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railingsofsorrow · 4 months

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summary: in which a phone call ruined your day.

... or not, because your boyfriend made sure to be there for you until you were okay again. pairing: s. reid x gn!reader

w.c: 2.1K

warnings/content: reader is reckless and puts themselves in danger (one time); angst; mentions of shutting people out; an argument happens but the fluff comes right after; case-related violence; reader is going through something but it isn't explained; mentions of past bad habits; be aware of spelling errors.

A/N: my finals aren't over but I forced myself to take a break for the night. thus, I'm posting this hurt/comfort blurb. hope you like it.

navi

masterpost

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“you're mad.”

the day started good. you even got breakfast at home, which is something it almost never works out. but a case only arrived at around nine, so you had time to eat something before leaving.

spencer made toast, crispy, just the way you liked it. you sipped on your orange juice as he took his coffee, hand resting above yours in the comfortable morning silence you liked to partake in.

the day started good.

until things went south really quick.

it all begun with a phone call. not a work call, you were pretty used to those and when hotch called you up to the briefing room, everybody was already filling out paperwork in the bureau.

your mood went sour in a matter of seconds. you think you were able to desguise it from most of the team, though. except for spencer and maybe emily, because emily noticed every eyelash that was out of place, she couldn't even help it.

the news you got caused you to retract back to old habits, shutting people out and drowning in work to avoid thinking about it. you were numb, doing everything on autopilot, but you didn't let it compromise your professionalism. never. that fucking phone call wouldn't make you a bad profiler for a second. you wouldn't let it.

being numb lead you to be impulsive. and you took advantage of that. you'd jump straight into action just to avoid dealing with your problems. just to forget.

“i'm not mad.”

your boyfriend's tone was clipped, short. almost cold, but it didn't got that far yet. it took a lot to make spencer reid mad. but when it happened, and you were the reason, you were always conflicted on whether to let him cool off for himself, give him space, or beg for forgiveness right after you screwed up.

this time, you decided on the former. you don't think it worked that well.

the unsub had a gun pointing at a seven year old child. he was cornered in every way possible. police cars were still arriving at the scene, although five FBI agents aimed at the man, ready to shoot in case he so much as twitched a finger on that trigger.

anxiety ran along the bystanders as they watched it all happen in their neighborhood. you hadn't plan that, in fact, all of you had planned something else entirely. the profile was solid as well as the location and the unsub's endgame.

but people are unpredictable. no matter how hard you've studied the human brain. in certain circumstances, they would be capable of anything. including threatening children's lives.

your boss advised everyone to stay back. that they had it covered. it was only a matter of talking him down, carefully and with confidence.

but the second you heard the sob of that seven-year-old boy, you stopped focusing on the command reaching your earpiece. bulletproof vest and gun set aside, you marched forward, no ounce of hesitation. you knew what you were doing.

“spencer.” you followed him into your bedroom, a tired sigh leaving your lips as you felt your legs wobble slightly. you were exhausted. the day was hell both physically and mentally and you just wanted to take a good shower and sleep for forty eight hours. you wanted to forget it ever happened. you wanted to forget that phone call.

he didn't spared you a glance as he grabbed a pair of clothes to get into the bathroom. there was it. that coldness you hated. it was finally here. “spencer, please. can we talk?” you begged. if there was one thing that suffocated you was sleeping while upset. and your boyfriend was an elite grudge holder. you just couldn't do that tonight.

“of course.” he leaned back from the door just before entering the bathroom. an impassive expression across his featured as he turned to you. you wanted to scream at him. “you've been avoiding me all day, but you want to talk now? of course.”

okay. you deserved that.

did you though? why couldn't he make your life a little easier?

“sorry I was rude to you,” you said, holding back the petty comment wanting to slip out of your tongue. sorry I'm going through something and you're being an idiot about it. “i didn't mean to. I shouldn't have treated you that way.”

spencer's tongue poked around his cheek and you braced yourself for what was about to happen. an argument. in the middle of the night — morning, it must have been past two am.

“i don't care that you were rude the entire day.” spencer clarified as if that would make things better. “i care that you threw yourself in front of a psychopath with a gun, without a bulletproof vest and only your hands to work as a shield.”

“you had my back.” you insisted, recalling the moment the whole team started to shout at both you and the unsub. they were behind you, you had good coverage. “someone needed to talk him down.”

he didn't seem to be on the verge of snapping anymore. his shoulders were slumped. he was tired too. he was exhausted. it has been a long day and you needed to rest. you needed to sleep. you needed to forget.

it had started as a good day.

“we were doing that.” spencer mumbled, softly. he eyed your bitten cuticules, the bandage in your arm and your far away gaze. spencer wasn't stupid. he noticed things. he noticed you. he knew something was wrong from the moment you excused yourself to take a phone call in the middle of the case briefing. you came back into the room a different person. contained. robotic. strictly professional. “why couldn't you wait?”

“it was a child. he was scared.” you snapped, flinching away from him. “he didn't have time to wait.”

spencer pressed his brows together, deciding to not mention the time you did have to do what you had to do. statistics wouldn't help now. “you could have gotten shot in the chest.”

“it barely grazed my arm.”

“that's not the point!”

“and what is?” you yelled back, turning to him, fuming. “there is no point. the boy was in danger. you decided to wait. I decided to act. he's alive. I'm barely hurt. the case is over.”

spencer faltered, seeking something in you that he wasn't able to find. his gaze travelled accross yours in a desperate attempt to make you realise how stupid that single sentence was. one mistake. one wrong move. and you could have been somewhere else instead of in your shared apartment.

a bodybag.

“who called you?” you blinked at him, taken aback by the question. you expected him to blame you further. you even expected him to ignore you for the rest of the night. you would not back down. “i know something happened. someone happened. you're not... you wouldn't do that if you were thinking.”

“so because I'm impulsive one time, you're questioning my judgement?”

“when your judgement makes me almost lose you, yes. I am.” he crossed his arms, licking his lips as he studied you. profiled you. you fucking hated him right now. you wanted to rip his brains out.

“there was an entire team aiming at the guy, spencer.” you scoffed, pressing a thumb against your forehead, a headache brewing. your will to argue has vanished. you just wanted to sleep.

“you were blocking our aim.”

“can you stop?”

“no.”

you no longer had control of your emotions as your sight begins to be blurred by tears. fuck, I can't do this.

the room became silent. as if hearing your inner turmoils, spencer paused. he thought it through, any possibility that might have caused your sudden mood change. your impulsiveness. he thought he had done something, but by your reaction it wasn't that. it wasn't him.

it all shifted after that phone call.

you didn't retract when he approached. you didn't reject his touch or pushed him away. but you remained frozen, locked up in your own cage.

“do you want to talk about it?”

it had started as a good day.

you stood up, brushing your strands behind your ears and swallowing up the feeling of something permanently lodged in your throat.

you didn't turn to watch his expression faltering in disappointment. you didn't had the guts to see it.

“no.” you said. “i'm fine. I'm going to take a shower. I'm tired.” you left to your shared bedroom without a goodnight, knowing it would be pointless since you'd be sleeping alone tonight.

sleeping was a strong word. you closed your eyes, pressing your eyelids so tight that you're seeing stars. tossing and turning for around one hour in an empty bed was enough to leave you upset. the weight of the day and the argument you had with your boyfriend taking a toll on you.

maybe you hadn't been fair to spencer. it's not like he did anything to force your sudden mood change; he had absolutely nothing to do with it, actually. he wasn't responsible for that phone call, he wasn't the person at the other line whose voice you didn't want to hear ever again. he was just the one at the receiving end of your irritability.

your boyfriend, he wasn't one to pry. to force you to speak of things that made you uncomfortable. things you weren't ready to discuss yet. he was the kind of person who would ask if everything was alright and he would make sure you knew you had a shoulder to cry on and a ear to vent if necessary.

spencer was caring and respectful. he knew you needed space just as he did at some moments. so much so that he wasn't sleeping on the couch because he was mad at you — though you had been rude for that to be case — but because being around him, or anyone for that matter, would only set you off.

his curled up frame on the couch, half covered by the blanket and half uncovered to the night air. curls splattered around the pillow he stole from your bedroom when you were still in the bathroom. you wanted to bury yourself into his arms and never leave him again. you wanted his warmth all over you.

standing on the entrance of the living room, you watched his eyelids move incessantly. it was what told you he wasn't in a deep sleep.

he was pretending to be sleeping and you knew he was aware of your watchful eyes.

“i'm sorry.”

you mumbled into the uncomfortable silence, scratching your arm beneath the bandage in nervousness. shifting into your feet, you contemplated approaching him, but remained in the spot.

he peaked at you as his eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness of the room. he moved to a sitting position, outstretching a hand in your direction. an invitation.

“c'me here.”

you didn't need to be told twice.

“i'm sorry I was rude to you, I didn't mean it. you were just there and I—” he shushed your ramble with a kiss to your temple, arms squeezing you against him the way you craved in bed a few minutes ago. “i'm sorry, spencer. please don't be mad at me.” the last part you let out in a soft whisper but it only made him pull you closer as a form of comfort, to erase the pain you were feeling.

spencer cupped your cheeks so you would look at him “i'm not mad.” he promised, thumb grazing your face lovingly. “i just thought you needed space, but I promise I'm not mad, okay?”

you nodded with your lips trembling slightly. you were fairly certain that if you were to speak anything right now you'd burst into tears immediately.

you did manage to let out i don't want space, I want you. because it was all that you needed right now. always.

he kissed every teardrop that slipped out after that, bringing you closer to lay on his chest as he rested his back against the arm of the couch.

“i'm here, baby.” he whispered, fingers dancing across your arms. “always.”

you turned on his hold to be face to face with him, lifting one hand to touch the side of his face, caressing his jaw where you felt the growing stubble on his chin.

“thank you.” you said, smiling faintly when he pecked the tip of your nose.

he ended up covering the both of you with the spare blanket.

he breathed out as if pretty satisfacted with your current position, even though you both will most certainly be complaining of backache as soon as you wake up tomorrow. “i love you.” he let out, not minding about the pain in his joints in the morning. the only thing that mattered was you in his arms, safe and sound.

the day started good, until a phone call ruined it completely.

or not. because spencer was there and he kind of made things bearable. and if he could just make you feel better for a little while, that's what he would do.

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taglist: @lilyviolets

#reader insert #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x gn!reader #spencer reid hurt/comfort

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lovetei · 4 months

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Hiii! I’m that person that request the “them finding out that MC is married to Solomon” and i wanna add one more thing if u don’t mind! And i can’t stop thinking about it

So after married to Solomon for too long MC is able to chow down his cooking with ease. His cooking doesn’t make them passed out anymore, doesn’t send them in the past anymore, and it actually tastes good…?

They would be the saviour whenever Solomon brought his cooking to the HoL

Tumblr decided to fuck with me but I ain't no bitch so yeah, here's your long delayed request :')

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Their reaction to finding out MC is Solomon's spouse and they find his cooking edible

Warning: Shenanigans, grammar error, spelling error, no proofreading, Consists of three parts, readers gender is not mentioned

Versions: Demon brothers, Side Characters

Links: Masterlist

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SOLOMON'S SPOUSE...

LUCIFER who knows about his spouse but doesn't know who it is and whose faces turn sour whenever he would flirt with you because he seems to forget he has a spouse.

MAMMON who rolls his eyes whenever Solomon proudly mentions his spouse while having an arm around you and continues to tell him off saying he should be loyal.

LEVIATHAN that doesn't want to get close to him and doesn't want you close to him because he cheats on his spouse when the two of them are not together.

SATAN that tried consoling Solomon about how he treats you and if he remembers he has a spouse. Oh how his anger boiled when he said, they won't mind. They're used to it.

ASMODEUS who knows he flirts with Solomon and knows about his spouse but he can't help but feel dirty now and then knowing his spouse might be crying.

BEELZEBUB who refused to talk with Solomon and kept on telling you to keep your distance with Solomon and stay close to him because Solomon is shady.

BELPHEGOR who would pull you away without any warning and tell you that he's a married man, telling you that it would be better to stay close to him or else you'll commit sins.

SOLOMON'S SPOUSE?!

What the fuck do you mean you're actually his spouse?! Is all LUCIFER can think about after you declared to everyone that you two are actually, legally married.

MAMMON whose mouth hanged open as soon as he heard the news but immediately tried to assert dominance by saying he marked you up first and saying he's your first man.

A tear almost fucking dropped from the eyes of the LEVIATHAN as soon the news reached his ears. He would lock himself in his room for a few days out of pure shock.

SATAN swears to burn everything breathing if anything will even get close to him knowing how angry he is that his lover is actually married and he's the other man.

While everyone is furious, ASMODEUS couldn't get any happier knowing that two of his favorite humans are married, knowing that he can be the first demon in the relationship!

BEELZEBUB who lost his appetite through out the week because of pure sadness and shock. How come you couldn't tell them this important information MC?

BELPHEGOR who almost jumped out of his bed, a knife in his hand, ready to kill the sorcerer on sight as soon as he found out about the marriage papers with your and his signature in it.

SOLOMON'S SPOUSE!

Christ in a stick, that looks fucking horrendous is all LUCIFER could think as he looks at the food Solomon wants him to eat but luckily MC grabbed it out and ate it for him. He can't even think straight anymore after smelling that...

He fucked you up didn't he?! Is what MAMMON thought as soon as you ate his portion of Solomon's food, even saying how it can taste good as time passes by.

The way LEVIATHAN would sit beside you, whispering requests for you to eat it for him instead because you're the spouse! You're suppose to like his cooking right?

SATAN who said that the spouse should get more of the portion because the husband's hardworking should not be wasted to someone like him and proceeds to push his portion to you.

ASMODEUS who even spoon fed you his portion of Solomon's food saying that you'll need more energy to tend and care for two husband's now!

BEELZEBUB who got even more sad because how can you get used to eating this nuclear waste, another reason to add to his protest on why you should break up with him.

He doesn't care, BELPHEGOR will eat it for the sake of that hospital record he will soon add to the annulment protest with the reason of maltreatment and attempted murder.

#obey me #obey me fluff #obey me headcanons #obey me nightbringer #obey me scenarios #obey me shall we date #obey me x reader #obey me crack #obey me angst #obey me leviathan #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me mc

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owliellder · 7 months

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Two's A Crowd

College Bully! Leon Kennedy x fem! Reader

MDNI 18+

(Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5)

Description: College is proving to be a lot harder than you imagined. You cannot fail this math class. So when you've tried everything else, a well-known student is recommended to you by your professor for tutoring lessons, not really leaving you with much of a choice but to work with him.

Warnings: Not proofread, No Use of Y/N, Dub-Con, Unprotected Sex, Bullying, Yelling, Cursing

Tags: College AU, Bully! Leon, Shy! Reader, both are in their early 20's, Leon is Rude AF in the beginning, Loss of Virginity, Oral Sex, Fingering, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Mention of a Fight, Additional Tags to be Added

Author's Note: Ahh thank you for 1,000 followers!! I don't even know how that happened!! Anyways, I think it's a little anticlimactic? I just feel like since I am definitely not the kind to raise my voice, a shy reader wouldn't either. Besides, disappointment hurts more than anger, right?

Cross-posted onto AO3

Chapter 4:

Leon really did like you, honest. You were such a sweet girl, so innocent and clueless. Maybe it’s because he never gave his one night stands the time of day, or maybe it was just the sheer amount of time he had to spend with you to get this close, but now he knew he was a pretty terrible person for taking that bet

In the beginning he didn’t feel the slightest twinge of guilt due to the words the frat spewed at him. He knew all the right questions to ask, all the right things to say, the sweetness of it all had you under a spell. It was also such a menial thing to get, a single pair of panties… You probably wouldn’t even know it was missing!

But as time went on, it got harder and harder for Leon to stomach just what he was doing. You’d opened up so much to him about your home life, how stressed you were, how much pressure you were under. Doing this would absolutely ruin you so he did his best to convince himself that he was being the nice one by waiting to complete the bet until you had finished all your finals. All that time spent together had him second guessing, triple guessing, even quadruple guessing his decision to go through with this. The good grades were important to you, he didn’t want to draw your focus away from that.

It was a shame his friends couldn’t keep the damn thing to themselves even if their life depended on it. He’d explicitly told them that it’s done and there was nothing more to it, yet of course they just had to snicker and make snide little comments to each other the next day when they saw you in passing.

Leon wouldn’t admit out loud that you’d really grown on him over the months, so he could only brush his friends off whenever they’d tease him about getting angry whenever the topic arose. Chris was the worst out of all of them, being his best friend, it seemed like his mission was to dance on Leon’s nerves any chance he got.

“Delete that.” A scowl graced Leon’s features as he glared at Chris, who’d stepped back from the agitated man. Almost the entire frat had posed with the panties Leon stole from you, all of them making some form of exaggerated pose and face. What was only meant to be goofy on their part was making the man responsible furious.

“Relax, it’s just a picture. I thought you’d find it funny.” Chris chuckled, bringing his phone back in to look at it again himself. “You’re acting real sour for nothing.”

“It’s not nothing. You’re all acting like a bunch of fucking idiots and I’m sick of it. Now delete that damn picture before I smash your phone with a hammer.” The nonchalant attitude from Chris was driving Leon up the wall. He already knew he’d fucked up big time, and with the way everyone was acting would only get him into bigger trouble.

“Shut up, man.” Chris laughed, like this was all some big joke. Everything was a joke to him. “Acting like you’re gonna explode or something.” This man was an actual dumbass, never taking a moment to actually think about what consequences having photo evidence with the entirety of the frat’s members posing with something stolen would have.

Leon scoffed, holding his hands up before letting them fall dramatically to slap against the tops of his thighs. “No fucking way..” One hand came back up to cover his mouth, breathing out sharply through his nose. It was a sad attempt to keep himself from pouncing on the other man, seeing as not barely five seconds later he tackled Chris, hands scrambling to rip the phone from his hand.

Chris was a few inches taller than Leon, a bit stronger too, so the scuffle didn’t last long. Some punches thrown here, a few kicks there, and Leon had the wind knocked out of him at some point, thrown to the side and left to struggle to get up off the floor while Chris decided to make his way to a different part of the house, muttering under his breath all the while.

“God dammit-” Leon wheezed, on his hands and knees, one hand against his chest as he tried to catch his breath. Sure he reacted purely on instinct, but Chris could stand to be knocked down a few pegs in his opinion. The guy is an ass.

After finally collecting himself, Leon slowly spun around to rest his back against the foot of the couch, elbows resting on his knees. He coughed a couple times and let his eyes fall closed, eyebrows furrowed as he silently seethed. Chris was most definitely going to send that picture around since he obviously thinks it’s the funniest thing to ever grace this planet. You were going to see the picture. That thought alone had his head falling forward in defeat, breathing out a weak sigh and a few more coughs.

If he had just followed his own shitty advice, he would’ve taken a second to think about it. Why didn’t he just tell you in the first place? Why didn’t he just go to the store and buy a random pair of panties? Why did he follow through on such a meaningless bet?

Now that Leon thinks about it, he was the dumbass in this scenario. A royal one.

He probably sat there for an hour with his eyes closed, mind racing a million miles a minute. Trying not to make another stupid decision, he decided the best course of action would be to tell you before you saw that picture. You should hear it from him and not a total stranger. It was the right thing to do. Right?

He let out a few more strangled coughs and wheezes as he stood up off the floor and threw his coat on, beginning the walk of shame to your building. It wouldn’t have taken that long, but the snow and sludge on the ground made it a bit more dangerous, he needed to tread carefully. In more ways than one.

The extended walk left him alone with his thoughts, seeing as he didn’t grab his own phone to bring with him. With every step his mind grew heavier, an involuntary grimace scrunching his face up as he mulled over what exactly he’d done. He was mentally beating himself up over how easy it would’ve been to avoid this situation if he’d just thought outside of himself for one singular minute.

What had he done?

Leon stomped the excess snow off his boots once inside of the dorm building, hands hidden in the pockets of his jackets as he meandered over to the stairs to get up to the second floor where your dorm was. He took his sweet time, practicing what he wanted to say under his breath as he stared down at his feet while walking up the steps.

Your dorm was down the hall around the corner, allowing him the few extra seconds it would take to get there to get his heart under control. You would be mad, rightfully so, but would you forgive him? Is it selfish to hope that you would?

He stood in front of your door for a minute longer, hand hovering just in front of it, trying to bring himself to knock. Licking his dry lips, he quickly hit the knuckle on his index finger against the door three times, his eyes downturned. As much as he wanted to be the bigger person, it scared him to no end. He’s never cared this much before, so why was he so worried about it now?

Leon’s eyes shot up at the sound of the door opening, immediately showing his confusion when it was Sky on the other side. They didn’t say a word, but they looked mad, or at least very irritated. “Hey, I really need to talk to-,” they cut him off by simply holding up the palm of their hand to him, taking in a deep breath. “We saw it.”

Those three words made his heart drop to his stomach, his eyes quickly darting to look through the opening in the door to see if he could see you. “Please, if you would just let me explain I can-”

“Don’t embarrass yourself. Just go.” Sky was just about to close the door before they quickly looked over their shoulder, shutting the door almost all the way. Leon could hear them whispering to you, and though he desperately wanted to listen in, he decided to take a step back from the door and wait patiently. It was the least he could do.

He looked side to side to make sure no one was walking through the hallways, not wanting anyone to eavesdrop on such a sensitive situation. The door reopened, only this time it was you standing in the doorway. You looked so sad, so disappointed.

Leon hesitated before opening his mouth, yet you cut him off before he could even get a word in. “I trusted you,” you rasped quietly, a shaky sigh passing your lips, “I-.. I trusted you… and this is how you treat me..?” His shoulders slumped as he listened to you. He didn’t think he could feel any worse about this, but here you were, reminding him just how much of an ass he’s been.

“All that time we spent together.. all those kind, encouraging words you told me.. were all a lie?” You sniffled, arms slinking around yourself tightly. Sky was standing out of his view rubbing your back, knowing you wanted, no, needed to confront him yourself.

“No- I-..” Leon stuttered, trying to find the best way to explain everything. And no matter how many times he formulated it in his head, the explanation would never justify his actions. Instead he settled on something that would probably mean and do nothing for you. It was worth saying, though. “I’m sorry,” he said, “I’m so sorry,” his voice fell to a whisper as he repeated himself, eyes remaining on yours. What else could he say?

Silence fell between you as you only stared back at him with glassy eyes, your every breath shaky as you held back sobs. Crying in front of him would only give him more fuel, was your thought process. In your mind, he couldn’t even be trusted with your trash.

By now, Sky had walked over and grabbed your suitcase, rolling it over next to you. You were leaving a day earlier than you said you would, Sky having offered to drive you back home since your hometown was only a couple hours away from where theirs was.

You didn’t give him the satisfaction of a response, instead taking the handle of your suitcase from your friend before silently walking out of the room, past Leon, and down around the corner. He only stood and watched you walk off with a deep frown, head turning back to look at Sky when he heard them lock the door behind themself.

“You’re only sorry that you got caught.” They grumbled as they walked past him, giving him a quick yet harsh glare. They soon disappeared around the same corner you had, leaving him all alone in the now quiet hallway.

You were the nicest, most considerate person he’s ever had the pleasure to know and he blew it. The worst part about it all was you didn’t even seem mad, just heartbroken. Disappointed in him.

You had put so much of your trust into him, even after he’d been so nasty towards you in the beginning, and what did he do with it? He basically spit on it, lit it on fire, and then flushed the remnants. He was only annoyed with you the first few times he had to help you study, the bickering the two of you shared easily becoming one of the things he liked about you.

Leon honestly liked you from the start, so determined to pass a class that you’d put up with what was basically harassment from him. When he told his frat buddies about you, they were quick to draw up that bet. Unfortunately, he’d known most of these guys since middle school, and you were just a girl he met on chance. His friends’ words blanketed his own morals, and because they saw you as a target, so did he, that subconscious need for peer approval leading him to make one of the worst decisions he’s ever made thus far.

If he was in your shoes, he’d raise hell, so your decision to leave was completely understandable. For some reason you’d let him off easy and he knew he didn’t deserve such light treatment.

All he could do now was hope you’d come back next semester. He’d be fine just getting to see you in passing since you most likely wouldn’t want to be anywhere near him anymore, your friends would certainly keep him at a distance away from you.

Would writing a message be okay? You need time before he approaches the topic with you. Should he leave you be? No, you deserve an apology, even if you don’t want it, nor accept it.

Someone brushed by Leon, breaking his train of thought. He was still standing in the hallway in front of your dorm room. He needed to go and try to make this right, or at the very least rip everyone at the frat a new one. He wasn’t sure, maybe it was because he was angry at them and himself, but leaving the frat sounded like a pretty good way to start righting his wrongs. Not before he made sure that the picture was wiped from everyone’s phone and the panties he stole were kept far away from everyone there.

Chris sent the picture to you, which means it was sent to a bunch of other people too. He’ll spend all winter break tracking down every last person it was sent to, tell professors what he’d done just so it didn’t spread any further. And if it meant he’d lose his scholarship, then so be it.

tags:

@kayotee4 @k-fallingstar @bobastayhigh @mi-zer-y @chasingkennedy @l30nva @espressonerd @jjouki @5tarx @bunnybreadloaves @whoisgami @cyanscribe @c4b3r1a @darichvep @mmmangel @kingtacocat @klee-iii @baby--vera @dakiniii @kenma-izhu @aliidarling @leonsmamacita @deadghxsty @nekoheist @dumbassmortal @cassiecasluciluce @iovewilliams @maeplayscello @deddiemunsonsblog @paranoid-but-android @mariesmain @tteokhwaa @bonnibuckets @eilonwykennedy @1dk-anym0r3 @papatyacikcik @animesnowstorm @lexi-zsy09 @mylifedoesntexist @ifeellikedying @yourmommylol04 @ravioli19 @dakiniii @papichulo120627

(few of your blogs won't work, i tried though 😭)

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ddarker-dreams · 1 year

Text

Redamancy.

Yan Scaramouche x F Reader.

Warnings: Yandere themes and unhealthy relationships. Word count: 1k.

“You scowl too much.”

If anyone else were to speak to Scaramouche, Sixth of the Eleven Fatui Harbinger in this way, they’d certainly be reduced to a pitiful pile of ash on the ground. Perhaps he’s thought about subjecting you to this fate, once or twice. That number could very well have been bumped up to three times if the indignant air he currently regards you with is to be considered.

Then again, no one aside from you would get to experience this deceptively domestic scene. You sit beneath a canopy, branches free from winter’s thaw hastily preparing buds to herald in spring. Scaramouche holds your thighs captive, the soft flesh serving as his pillow. Indigo locks splay out against and tickle your skin.

“There’s a lot to scowl about,” he replies, though he makes an effort to relax his tense facial muscles. The contemptuous smile he gives makes his previous expression look benevolent in comparison. “I’m stuck dealing with a fool of a woman who’d probably wander off a cliff because she was too busy admiring the clouds.”

“Clouds are meant to be admired.”

“Case in point.”

“You make it sound like I’m chained to you with iron shackles, though,” you raise your ankle (notably shackle free, imagine that), drawing his attention and ire. Your sarcasm never fails to rile him up. He never seriously tries to put a stop to it, however. Such is his capricious nature. “If I’m such a bother, why not let me wander off the cliff?”

Scaramouche grits his teeth. “Because…”

There’s a pause, then, weighty and tangible. You know what he both wants and fears to say. If he were any less of a coward, he’d fill the aromatic air with truth, rather than engaging in his usual sidestepping. He’s so proficient at the act you swear he could moonlight as a crab. This mental image earns a barely contained giggle from you, one that further sours his mood, if such a thing were possible.

Knowing you as intimately as he does, he correctly assumes that he’s the unwitting source of your amusement.

“I can’t stand you,” he grumbles. Whether it’s to you or himself, you can’t decide. “Truly, I can't.”

“Then hand me over to someone who can.”

There’s a flash in his eyes then — otherworldly, malicious — he disregards composure like a snake abandons shed skin. He rises in a flash. Inhumanly cold fingers take your chin captive, bringing you closer to him, his delight in the ease with which he can manhandle you evident. Always the type to go for grand gestures, this one. His theatrical outbursts befit his moniker.

Scaramouche grins, beset with an onslaught of bitterness akin to a black hole. It draws in and swallows anything unfortunate enough to be nearby.

“You just love testing my patience, don’t you?”

If you feared him, maybe you’d tremble, but you don’t, so you are still. It’s likely that you should fear him. He is volatile, a mess of contradictions too complicated to untangle, a vessel who fills himself with acrimony, the same way humans must with air. He delights in it and considers it his birthright.

Your smile is not without kindness and that’s what bothers him most.

“Come, don’t pout. I have no intentions of being complicit in whatever havoc you'd wreak if I was with another.”

His eye twitches at the pesky word ‘another’. The mere thought of this faceless, nonexistent being having the audacity to lay claim to you, even in the land of fantasy, has his nostrils flaring and jaw tightening. You can see the ripple of muscles beneath his synthetic skin. He’s a wonder, this proprietorial doll, who can exalt and condemn you in the same breath.

You are mine, and mine alone, his eyes seem to scream, and I’d sooner end the world than exist in it without having you for myself.

“You really do scowl too much,” you reiterate your opinion from earlier, gently, almost sweetly. Whatever spell Scaramouche was under temporarily breaks, or perhaps he’s held prisoner to a new one, far more agreeable if not equally dangerous. “Your face is too pretty to always be frowning.”

You enchant him by running your finger over his lower lip. It trembles by your command. His eyes go lidded, a lovelorn haze obscuring the former tempest. He can never decide if he wants to destroy or devour you. For someone like him, he can’t do one without the other. His love for you is a death sentence, despite the immortality that should’ve never belonged to your mortal body.

It’s you who kisses him.

He temporarily forgets himself. The arrogance, the hurt, the fear that you might slip between his fingers should he ever relax his hold. You find him foolish in that regard. He can have you in the palm of his hand if he likes, and you know he’d like that very much. There’s nowhere else for you to be. Not when he’s seen to the fact himself.

Scaramouche melts into your person, returning your kiss with rapture, drunk on the way you offer yourself to him. He makes a deep, breathy noise, willing you closer, demanding total subservience. You let him have his way. Civilizations could rise and fall in the seconds that follow, and he’d pay them no mind, too absorbed with savoring your temporary connection.

It is what he lives for; what he'd kill for.

His fair skin is flushed when you part. From the apple of his cheeks to the tip of his ears, he’s painted in a color from your palette. The pigmentation suits him. Red is the color around his eyes, of his longing for you, and of what would spill across the land should you ever part.

“There,” you whisper, as if it were a secret meant for him alone, “That look suits you far better.”

He wants to deny it — you can tell by how his grip tightens — but he remains uncharacteristically quiet. If he gets to delight in you, it’s only fair that you can occasionally delight in him, he supposes.

Such is your capricious nature.

#i wanna chew on him #yandere scaramouche x reader #scaramouche x reader #yandere genshin impact x raeder #yandere genshin impact x reader #scaramouche brainrot #genshin impact x reader #yandere x reader #yandere #reader insert #my stuff

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jals-stuff · 1 month

Text

a routine.

Orter Madl x f!reader

Obnoxious, sour, call him whatever you want, Orter Mádl couldn't care less about what people thought of him. You can’t help but wonder if that’s what you find attractive, or if you just have a thing for authoritative, serious-looking jerks (because I do).

Warnings: slight angst? orter is a jerk, hurt (just a bit) with comfort, reader being too nice.

Word count: 3.4k words

Note: again with no sleep, sorry for any spelling mistakes, don't stone me to death. thought about making a part 2 for this, no clue yet let me know what y'all think. (i swear i have never simped for a man that hard before)

definitions at the end, but it doesn't matter if you don't read them so no worries! enjoy-

Indeed, Orter was a man who would sweat for the status quo to be protected. If this man had his name on an alignment chart, the creators would have to make up something like “lawful lawful”. That is how lawful Orter Mádl gets. It didn’t matter to him how people perceived him, or whispered to each other whenever they saw him walk through the large corridors of the Bureau of Magic. Few things mattered to him in fact, but if he had to put them into a list, it would look like this:

Making sure rules and order are respected

Staying undisturbed during working hours (and out of working hours, too)

Not doing anything unnecessary.

He had a very specific routine he followed almost perfectly everyday, and so far, nothing had pushed him to change it. No one had, either, because from an ordinary person’s point of view, Orter was nothing else than a sour workaholic, strict, obnoxious man. Most women (and some men as well) who worked at the Bureau always seemed to look to the ground when crossing his path, while the other ones were too busy gossiping about him being a potential serial killer, since he was “so calm and quiet”. But one (wo)man’s trash is another (wo)man’s treasure and surely enough, you were one hell of a hungry raccoon lady.

You had been working at the Bureau for almost a year now, and since the very first time your eyes had landed on him, you knew he was the one you wanted. And since that day, you were one of the only people who even dared speak to him— if you don’t count the other Divine Visionaries as people (because Kaldo’s… obsession¹ with honey made him a creature, and not a human being, we have to be honest here).

You’d always greet Orter when meeting him in the morning, or wish him to have a nice break time when he’d actually allow himself to take a break, and he would simply greet you back, always giving you the same confused look. Simply seeing him illuminated your days and kept you going through your seemingly unending workload. Yet, as much as you enjoyed these small interactions, the same couldn’t be said about him.

Orter didn’t dislike these despite the way he looked down at you everytime you greeted him. He simply wasn’t used to such… fervour² from any of his other colleagues. You were certainly very passionate, and he had to put in a lot of effort not to just immediately send you away whenever you’d bring him coffee when you had free time or simply try to chat a little when you were to give him a report.

It wasn’t against you or anything specifically, but Orter was a firm believer that saving energy was the move. After all, why bother doing anything that is unnecessary?

Even if it, indeed, was nothing personal, you were pretty much everything he disliked. Noisy, talkative, full of energy, sPEED, and quite naive as well. The embodiment of a child who has been given too much sugar and is now experiencing the zoomies.

And so, like an uninvited grain of sand in his eye, you slithered your way into his daily routine. Each morning, before entering his office, he knew he would encounter you at this specific time of the morning shift, by turning this corner. It happens everyday, and it will happen again today. He knows you get your break at 10:05 am and usually will knock on his office door at exactly 10:11 am to bring him your reports as well as some coffee you grabbed for him.

He knows that in the afternoon, usually between 3:48 pm and 4 pm, you’ll find an excuse— any excuse to bring him some pastries, or any kind of snack with another cup of coffee, but this time a bit more sugary.

He has gotten used to it now, but he still cannot quite understand why you’re spending so much energy on him, and when Orter doesn’t understand something, he gets frustrated. He does not often interact with anyone, and so the fact that people around him might have feelings is completely unbeknownst to him, or so it seems.

...

It’s approximately 4pm on that day and, as usual, you knock on his door. He looks up from his paperwork and just mutters to come in, knowing damn well it’s you. But this time, you’re not bringing any coffee or snacks. You just hand him a report you had written, as usual, and he notes that you look a little nervous.

You patiently wait for him to read through your carefully written report. He gives a nod, not even a word, as usual, and this time, instead of immediately leaving, you decide to speak up.

“Umm..” you start, and you start wondering whether this is a good idea or not. He’s looking at you now, in all of his cold, emotionless expression. “So… would you maybe… like to have your coffee break with me this time…?” you ask, looking away a little bit.

He leans against his chair’s backrest at the suggestion. He could definitely use a break and some coffee right now, but he isn’t sure if he can take the amount of energy you’ll be talking with for the whole duration of your time together.

“With you?” He asks, and you’re unsure if he means this in a mocking way, or if he’s just asking. You shyly nod and he adjusts the position of his glasses a little bit. “I could use a break,” he starts “but I’m not sure I can handle more of your… eagerness to converse³.”

It hurts quite a lot; you knew Orter had always been blunt, but to hear it from his mouth was something else. Were you really bothering him that much? Maybe he didn’t mean it in a bad way? After all, he did have a lot of work, and of course he’d like to free his mind a little bit and enjoy peaceful silence with his afternoon coffee. He quickly takes note of your nervous squirming and your lack of response.

“I don’t think this is a good idea,” he finally says after what seemed like an eternity “I don’t want this headache to get any worse.”

A headache. Was this really all you were to him?

“I.. can stay quiet if you’d like me to, but I would really like to have—”

“No, thank you. I’ll have coffee on my own. ” He cuts you off, looking back to his paperwork, probably very oblivious to the fact that he just hurt you deeply. “I don’t understand why you’re so eager to interact with me when all I’m really asking for is to be undisturbed.” Was it personal, or was it because of his lack of human interaction? Well, both meant the same to you, if you really were the only person he interacted with, it was directly against you.

You didn’t know what to say. You wouldn’t give up on him, of course, but your entire personality had just proven to be a nuisance to him, and you weren’t sure how you’d recover from this one. You had been standing for a minute, looking at the ground in front of his desk, before his authoritative voice you loved so much pulled you out of your overthinking.

“Anything else?”

You shake your head ‘no’ and promptly exit his office now. It sounded clear to you that you were a disturbance to him, and it was the complete opposite of what you wanted to be. But again, no matter how bad his rejection felt, you decided you’d be a little more like he wished you’d be: invisible, silent.

You made a mental note to change your behaviour around him and stop being so clingy and noisy all the time, then maybe, if you destroyed this personality of yours he seemed to loathe, maybe he would look at you. Even just once.

...

Orter arrives at the Bureau the next day as usual, and already knows you’ll be just around the corner where he meets you everyday. He gives a sigh and walks around… to find no one. He blinks a few times in surprise, but simply assumes you’ll be somewhere else, ready to greet him…. But there’s no sign of you. Or rather there is one, but it’s only the usual morning coffee you give him, and it’s sitting on his desk inside his office. You, on the other hand, aren’t here.

“Probably a different schedule today.” he thinks and quickly dismisses it to sit at his desk and remove his coat. He takes a few sips of the warm coffee and sighs before diving into his unending paperwork again.

As expected, there is a knock on his door at 10:11 am. He lets you come in and is pleased to see you’re still bringing him some coffee, along with your usual report. You quietly greet him and hand him the papers as you put the tall coffee cup on his desk, and await his review. Again, he gives you a nod and puts the papers back into his drawer, and as he looks up from his paperwork again to listen to your usual morning talk, he’s surprised to see you leave his office without a word.

“Probably has more work today.” he thinks, dismissing the change in your behaviour as the man sinks into his paperwork once more. You, on the other side, are only hoping your efforts aren’t vain. You’ve practised staying silent for a bit and you think you’re nailing it, honestly. All for the sake of the obnoxious, lawful man.

It doesn’t occur to him even once that you might be in emotional pain from his words; he isn’t well versed with other people’s feelings— and probably not his own either. You probably have more work today, and that’s why you’re not as talkative as usual. Or maybe you’re tired. Are you sick?

He stops himself for a second and takes off his glasses to rub his eyes a little; no. No, no. It shouldn’t matter to him whether you are ill or simply tired. He has too much work to do to care about one of his coworkers.

Roughly around 3:50 pm, you knock on his door again, bringing in the usual pastries and sweet coffee. Now, he’s wondering which excuse you found to visit him as he crosses his hands on his desk and looks at you intently.

His eyes on you start to feel uncomfortable. It’s like he’s tearing your soul open and trying to figure out what’s going on in this little skull of yours⁴, and really, it isn’t just an impression. He was expecting you to ask him out again, or talk about the weather, complain about your workload, but none of these words escape your mouth. A simple, polite “have a good afternoon”, and you’re gone immediately.

Your schedule must really be something else for you to quit pestering him about your state of mind like you used to do. But again, he takes a bite of the delicious pastries you brought him, and keeps working in religious silence as he occasionally takes a sip of the sweet coffee you delivered.

Time flies fast, and it’s already evening. You clock out, as one does, and as you walk away from your office, you encounter Orter, who seems to be clocking out at the same time. And this is when the overthinking kicks in. Is he going to think you waited for him? Will he believe it was a mere coincidence? What if he thinks you’re being clingy and annoying for clocking out at the same time?

But your thoughts come to an end as he simply walks away without a word; maybe he just doesn’t care. Right, maybe he just doesn’t care. It probably didn't matter whether you were quiet or talkative, hyper or calm. He probably didn’t care.

...

The next morning, you arrive earlier at the Bureau, as you did yesterday, and fulfil your morning routine: getting a few snacks for yourself, and a tall coffee for Orter. But unfortunately, the cafeteria is a bit more crowded than usual, and you end up exiting it at the same time you usually did.

He encounters you again at the very same corner, and he is now convinced you simply had a rough schedule yesterday, but as he was about to greet you, you simply hand him the coffee and walk away towards your office without a word.

The day goes on like the previous one; you barely exchange any words with him, and he makes no effort to change this. You’re quiet, reserved now, and you just internally pray that he will like you more. This isn’t you, but you will be whoever he wants you to be, if there’s the slightest chance that he will look at you.

What you were completely clueless about was how this little change of yours was affecting him. At first he didn’t think much of it, but he had gotten used to your nonstop talking, to your cheerful voice when you greeted him, and to the very specific hours you’d come to visit him and ask him out or talk about everything and nothing.

Orter was going nuts. The routine he had gotten used to was crumbling for reasons unknown, and he couldn’t understand why, it was beyond his power. The grain of sand in his eye⁵ had become an entire desert, and the frustration was great enough that he could barely focus on his work anymore. Something was missing. He needed to figure it out quickly.

His focus was long gone, and all he could think about was why the usual, cheerful girl who always greeted him with a smile and warm coffee had become so… dull and painfully normal. Had you been sick the whole time? Why did he even care in the first place?

But as much as he disliked admitting it, he had grown quite fond of your behaviour, even though his words had proven to oppose this fact. He needed to make sure of what was lacking in his daily routine now. You were still here, you still brought him coffee everyday, did your job correctly… What could be missing?

His mind was a complete mess and he could not get you out of his head for some reason, which made him even more annoyed. You were such a headache and a nuisance, right? He couldn’t possibly be going insane from the lack of… you?

As usual, at 10:11 am sharp, you visit his office with your daily report and his coffee. This time though, he doesn’t take the papers from your hands and just crosses his legs, looking straight into your eyes. “I would like you to read it out loud for me.”

Read it out? You ask yourself, why couldn’t he read it himself? But again, we are talking about Orter Mádl; this man could tell you to get on all fours and bark, and you would gladly do it without giving it a second thought.

“...right.” You started, a little confused at his sudden request. “The Bureau’s investigation on Magol Castle…”

Your words grew distant to him, but not your voice. He wasn’t listening, he was listening. He felt himself oddly soothed at your tone, for once, as he kept trying to find this missing piece of the jigsaw. But it was as if his focus had returned and he could finally get back to work. As soon as you stopped talking, he extended a hand for you to give him the reports, and you did.

“Good, very good. I’ll read it again later.”

You stood in awe for a second; Orter had just praised you. Your efforts were working, and now you just had to keep going and stay quiet most of the time. You gave a polite nod and walked away from his desk.

“Wait.”

That was it. You were the missing piece. But it made no sense, since you hadn't left, you were still here with him at the very moment... but then why did it feel like you weren't?

You turn around as you hear him speak and you just stand there, waiting for him to keep going. The silence is heavy and it seems like an eternity before he finally speaks up again.

“You’ve been… quiet.” He remarks, his eyes never leaving yours, and you couldn’t tell whether he meant this in a good or a bad way. Of course, his expressions always suggested that everything he said was to be taken in a bad way, but you knew better than to assume anything, especially about Orter Mádl. “Why?” he asks, and there’s an undertone of desperation in his voice. He sounds like he’s at his wit’s end.

At this point, you can’t really do anything else than speak up and tell the truth, can you? So you take a few steps towards his desk and nervously fiddle with the hem of your shirt.

“I… do not wish to be a nuisance or give you a headache.” You simply reply, in all of your honesty, and he looks at you, clueless and distraught now. Was that the reason why you had been silent the entire time? Were you driving him completely crazy because of what he said to you?

He buries his face in his hands and sighs. His glasses were slightly falling from his nose now that his hands were rubbing it entirely. You walk around his desk and gently push his glasses back in place, his state worrying you a little bit. You had never seen him being affected by anything before, so you were a bit confused.

“Are you alright..?” You quietly asked, not daring to touch him too much, lest he’d find you clingy, but the man sighed loudly once again and cleared his throat, his hands crossing against his desk again.

“You are driving me insane, (Y/N).”

You’ve never heard him speak your name before, and it felt… rather nice. You couldn’t tell if his words were meant to be good or bad though, so you only stood next to him and waited for him to speak up again. An uninvited feeling of guilt made its way to your heart and you couldn’t help but feel like all of this was your fault. You only wanted him to look at you, to make his life a little easier… but instead, you had somehow wrecked it.

After what seemed like an eternity, Orter was still dead silent, and you had to do something.

“I… I’m sorry…” you mutter quietly, not fully sure of what you did, but feeling the urge to apologise anyway. His state was more than concerning and you were the cause for it. “I… meant no harm, with whatever I did to you…”

And then something hits him. A feeling he’s probably rarely felt before: guilt. He looks up at you, and you clearly look like you’re holding back your tears as you shamefully look away from him. It takes all of his energy not to get angry— but at himself this time. He was the one who caused this situation, not you.

“It wasn’t your fault, only mine.” He sighed as he took off his glasses and started wiping them to distract himself from your sad expression that was awakening a myriad of new feelings within him. “I shouldn’t have said those things. I… did get quite used to your company. Please, feel free to speak as much as you want.”

He looks up at you, and despite the fact that he still isn’t smiling, his eyes are softer now, his expression is gentler and his voice has lost its authority. He is just asking you to speak to him. It isn’t even an order, he is actually pleading.

You can’t help this slight blush from creeping up to your cheeks as you try to regain your composure. You had gotten praised by Orter today, and he even pleaded with you and apologised? It was clearly your lucky day, so you thought you might as well try your luck. You cleared your throat a little.

“A-hem… so… maybe you… would like to have coffee with me this time?” You ask, timidly.

Orter merely chuckles, still not letting his face sport the ghost of a smile. He simply pushes his glasses up to his nose and stands up, pulling his coat back to his shoulders.

“I would love to.”

¹: this man will cover his sashimi in honey and proclaim it’s still edible.

²: read → insistence.

³: nonstop yapping.

⁴: empty, hollow. Not a single thought behind those eyes— or so he thinks.

⁵: you, sorry.

#orter madl #orter mádl #orter x reader #mashle orter #madl orter #orter madl x reader #mashle x reader #mashle x you #orter madl x you #mashle orter madl #orter mádl x reader #mádl orter #mádl orter x reader

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rae-writes · 1 year

Text

om boys cumcanons

nsfw

Lucifer

off white, has the thickest consistency of his brothers; it actually can be a bit hard to swallow all at once sometimes because of that, so he practically keens whenever your cheeks are puffed, visibly full of his cum, as you take your time swallowing it all. Tastes a bit bitter from all the coffee he drinks, but it’s not unbearable, and you start to actually like it after a while

Mammon

pearl colored with a golden tint, creamy consistency; you would think it tastes like sugar with the way it looks, but it’s just a distinct Mammon taste (with a tang of sourness from all the hell-sauce), and the texture is perfect for making you greedy to come back for more, which he is all too happy to give

Levi

paper white, but has some transparency to it, with an iridescent shine— it’s thinner than his brothers and a bit runny; he cums a lot so the consistency is good for quickly swallowing it down (and for easy clean up). Tastes like candy— literally. Sometimes leftover beads of it will roll off your tongue when you open to show him and the sight drives him crazy

Satan

milky with a rather normal consistency, though sometimes it’s thicker depending on how pent up he was; it genuinely looks like milk and is very easy to swallow. Tastes rich and almost sweet, like a loaded coffee that gives you the energy to keep going and going until you’ve both had your fill (gives a whole new meaning to the nickname ‘kitten’)

Asmo

pearly with a rose gold tint to it, a bit on the thinner side; he actually likes painting your face/body with it, so it’s pretty to take photos of and not too messy to where it’ll be hard to clean off (and he tastes amazing- like a fruity mixture but not too sweet and not too sour)

Beel

off white and has the second thickest consistency, though his is more of a creamy texture like Mammon’s; he cums the most out of all his brothers so it’ll definitely overflow out of your mouth (not that he minds the sight). Surprisingly, he doesn’t taste that bad, but you can’t really pinpoint the taste- it’s kind of bland, but given what he eats all the time, you’re okay with it

Belphie

milky, normal consistency, and glints under direct light (like stars); loves having you open your mouth with your tongue out and let his cum drip off- very aesthetic, tbh. He’s a mixture between sweet and bland yet it tastes so good, especially in the morning (where you can be caught giving him a wake up call with head on many occasions)

Diavolo

off white and is the third thickest consistency, but he comes so much (more than Beel) that it’s basically impossible to swallow it all down without either taking your time or having it dribble down your chin. Has a hint of sweetness, but it’s mostly bitter in taste, and even more so because of how much is in your mouth at once. Not the most pleasant, but you manage

Barbatos

paper white, bit of a thin consistency, but thick enough to where it’s pleasant as it pools in your mouth when he doesn’t allow you to swallow until he’s finished working; he’s a curious mix of bitter and shockingly sweet, it’s almost confusing on whether you love it or hate it (you love it, come on)

Simeon

pearly white with a pearlescent glimmer, and the consistency is perfect, just the right amount of thick and thin; and- and his taste??? Delicious— a delicacy, if you will. You could sit and swallow his cum down all day if you could (and when you tell him this during one of your cock-drunk spells while licking said cum up? he ascends. absolutely lets you overstimulate him till he’s passing out right then and there)

Solomon

off white, on the thicker consistency side; and I know what you’re thinking- but he actually tastes good- it’s kind of irritating, really (and makes you just want to get on your knees instead when he offers to cook for you. He can’t complain though, not when you’re shoving your cum coated tongue in his mouth and making him agree, though that might just be because your taste was mixed in too)

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luci-is-a-bitch-x3x · 1 month

Text

Obey me! Younger Brothers Reaction to: Mc doing the "Come over. He just left" Prank

Other parts can be found here: Older Brothers

━☆*:･ﾟ✧✧ ♡ ❀ ♡ ✧━

Welcome! to another part of this adventure! The characters may not be how you imagine! I apologize for any poor jokes, bad spelling, and terrible grammar. Without further ado, please enjoy the content. ♡

CW: Satan angy, Asmo is Asmo, Beel's precious, Belphie's a brat, and some fluff, sums it up pretty good.

━☆*:･ﾟ✧✧ ♡ ❀ ♡ ✧━━☆*:･ﾟ✧✧ ♡ ❀ ♡ ✧━

Satan's Reaction:

Satan has to go meet a new cat, he has to know every cat in the Devildom after all. The demon with this new cat was called up to the human world by a witch, the demon met a cat while doing tasks in the human world, the cat grew fond of the demon and followed the demon home. A love story Satan could only dream of experiencing. Satan wanted to invite his favorite living thing besides cats Mc along with but Mc said they were too busy! How can anyone be too busy for cats, Satan will never know. A little disappointed but wanting to be understanding, Satan leaves his human's room, heading for the front door, he walks out the front door down the pathway towards the street. When Mc hears the front door shut, they run to look out a window. From inside the house looking through the window Mc can see that Satan has already made it to the street and is almost out of sight. Mc quickly sends the prank message: "Come over. He just left." Mc watches as Satan pulls out his D.D.D while walking, seemingly getting the message. Mc watches as Satan freezes in place for like 5 seconds, within that five seconds you can tell his attitude sours. Satan gets an angry purple aura around him, but the scariest part is how oddly calm he is as he turns and begins walking back towards the House of Lamentations. When Satan gets back inside the house he doesn't even say anything at first, he just gives Mc this eerie smile. When Satan finally speaks he tells Mc that he's going to wait to go meet the new cat some other day, because he just feels like he needs to be home today. Mans is sticking around so he can murder whoever Mc is trying to link up with. Mc realizing Satan is missing out on meeting a new cat because of their prank feels bad and explains to him how it's just a prank, and nobody is coming over. It takes some explaining and he wants to know why Mc does the prank in the first place but eventually Satan understands. He isn't particularly fond of the prank, and Satan likes pranks, but that's because this prank got him worried and everything. Even though Satan winds up understanding, he brings Mc with to meet the new cat, not only can he make sure Mc doesn't meet up with anyone, he also gets to have an even better experience, Mc and cats make everything better, soon enough he'll be forgetting all about the prank.

Asmodeus's Reaction:

Asmo has to go to the store to get ingredients for dinner since he's on cooking duty today. He wanted to bring his favorite living thing besides himself Mc with, but Mc said they were too busy! How can someone be too busy to hang out with Asmo, Asmo doesn't know, I mean it's a blessing to even be around him even for a second! Disappointed and confused Asmo reluctantly leaves his human's room. Asmo makes his way to the front door of the House of Lamentations, heading out the front door and down the pathway towards the street. When Mc hears the front door shut, they rush to look out through one of the windows from inside the house. Mc sees that Asmo's made it to the street and is almost out of sight so they quickly send the prank message: "Come over. He just left." Mc watches as Asmo pulls his D.D.D out while walking, seemingly checking the message. Mc watches as Asmo freezes in place for like the longest time, it's surprising as Asmo usually reacts to things quickly, especially D.D.D messages. It takes a little longer before Asmo is finally turning and rushing back towards HoL. When he gets inside the house he dramatically starts asking who Mc's trying to see behind his back. Asmo will be dramatic and not calm down until Mc shuts him up with a kiss and explains it was just a prank. Unbeknownst to Mc, Asmo knew it was a prank all along, Asmo saw the trend on FabSnap and planned to try it out with Mc. When Mc tried it on him before he could try the trend on them, he was pleasantly surprised, it took him so long to react because he wanted to give Mc some type of reaction, he didn't want them thinking he doesn't care. Asmo will never tell Mc he knew the prank, purely because he can now guilt trip Mc into spending time with him, by acting like he's all jealous and worried. Mc is totally forced to accompany him to the grocery store for dinner's ingredients now. Asmo doesn't really need the reassurance, but he will make Mc reassure him multiple times, just because he likes their attention.

Beelzebub's Reaction:

Beel has to go to the store to buy some food, because he ate everything in the kitchen and his brothers got mad, so he feels bad and wants to replace the food..and possibly eat some of it as he carries it home. Beel went to his favorite hunger distraction Mc's room, he wanted to bring his human along with because he knows he wouldn't eat all the food on the way home then..sadly Mc said they were too busy to go with. Being completely understanding, Beel leaves Mc's room and heads for the front door to the house of Lamentations. Beel walks out the front door, heading down the pathway towards the street. Mc waits until they hear the front door shut, then they scurry to a window, looking through from inside the house, they see Beel has made it to the street and is almost out of sight. Mc quickly sends the prank message: "Come over. He just left." Mc watches as Beel pulls his D.D.D. out of his pocket, seemingly checking the message. Beel stares at his D.D.D for a second before he looks back towards HoL, looking confused. Beel begins to slowly make his way back towards HoL, staring down at his D.D.D with a confused look on his face. When Beel gets back inside the house, he holds up his D.D.D to show Mc the message, even though they sent it, Beel then asks what the message means, Mc has to explain the prank thoroughly for him to even properly understand, he's not stupid, he just doesn't worry about stuff like that, he trusts Mc too much. After finding out what the prank was meant to be, he may end up wanting to hear that it was just a prank once or twice, but he's ultimately pretty chill. If anything he feels bad for not understanding the prank and giving Mc the sort of reaction they wanted. Beel will ask again if Mc would like to accompany him on his food run, but if Mc still says no he won't be pushy or force them to come with. Beel will go on his food trip alone if Mc doesn't want to join, but Beel will hang out around Mc a little more for the next few days, and he'll constantly give Mc some of his food. If someone was giving him some of their food he'd never even consider anyone else, and he hopes it's the same for Mc, he doesn't want to lose his human after all.

Belphegor's Reaction:

Belphie has to go to Hocus Pocus, the magic item store 4 those who don't know, why? Because they got new items and are having a sale on them, Belphie can't miss that, the Anti-Luicfer league, I think that's the name, needs better stuff to use on Lucifer for even better pranks! Belphie wants to bring his favorite living pillow Mc along with, but Mc said they were too busy. Belphie tried everything, whining, pouting, trying to blackmail or give Mc a real reason to tag along, but to no avail his human stays stubborn and says they can't come with. Upset that his brattiness didn't get him his way, Belphie reluctantly leaves Mc's room, all pouty like the spoiled youngest is when they don't get their way. Belphie heads to the front door of the House of Lamentations, heading out the door down the pathway towards the street. When Mc hears the front door shut, they scurry to look through one of the windows from inside the house. Seeing the Belphie has made it to the street and is almost out of sight, Mc quickly sends the prank message: "Come over. He just left." Mc watches as Belphie slowly pulls his D.D.D. out of his pocket, seemingly checking the message. Mc has never watched the Avatar of Sloth react so fast before in their life. It's like the moment Belphie reads the message, he's turning and running back towards the house. When does Belphie run? Mc realizes the prank really got him, they laugh nervously as Belphie comes bursting back into the house. Belphie looks like he's ready to murder someone, hopefully not Mc, he's already done that. Mc gives Belphie a chance to ask what the hell is up, then they try and calmly explain that it's just a prank. It takes some explaining, some reassurance, and some apologies to finally win Belphie back over. Belphie makes a big deal out of it and uses it to guilt trip Mc into indulging into his bratty antics for the next few days. In reality, Belphie calmed down pretty quickly and felt a lot better after a little reassurance from Mc, he just wasn't going to miss out on an opportunity to have Mc's attention, and to have Mc in a situation where they feel bad for not giving him his way, he's a brat like that.

━☆*:･ﾟ✧✧ ♡ ❀ ♡ ✧━━☆*:･ﾟ✧✧ ♡ ❀ ♡ ✧━

Thats all for now babes! Hope you enjoyed!! ♡ This is not proofread. Feel free to comment or reblog any thoughts or any add ons you have! The last three were a little bit rushed and probs not my best work, sorry. Anyways, more content is coming soon so Stay Tuned! Stay Safe! & Stay Groovy Scooby! ♡

━☆*:･ﾟ✧✧ ♡ ❀ ♡ ✧━

⟡˙⋆Masterlist⋆˙⟡

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runnning-outof-time · 8 months

Note

For the ‘little intimate things that leave me breathless’ thing, could you do “having a piece of hair brushed off your face as you're reading or looking down.” With Tommy pretty please if you are able! 💖 Thank you!

Thanks so much for sending this in, anon! I’m sorry it took so long for me to write — I hope you enjoy this fluffy piece! Also sorry one last time for the spamming of stories that I’ve been doing … I hope it hasn’t been overwhelming, and that the reason behind me wanting to clear out my asks and drafts will make sense tomorrow. Enjoy! 🥰

PLEASE LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK!

A Good Look

Tommy Shelby x Reader

Warnings: smoking

Summary: Tommy tries to smooth-talk his way back into a good standing with (Y/N). It doesn’t quite go the way he hopes it would…or maybe it does.

(Y/N) was engrossed in the ledgers when the sound of the door opening echoed through the otherwise empty betting shop floor. She didn’t bother to look up, knowing exactly who had entered from the sound of the shoes on the hardwood alone.

She continued reading as Tommy took a seat in the chair across from her, hearing him go about fishing his cigarettes out of his pocket so that he could put one between his lips and light it with a match. It was only after he asked “what is that?” that she brought her eyes up to meet his.

“The ledger from the Eden Club,” she answered flatly, holding his gaze for a moment before dropping it back down to the paper.

“Why do you have it?” was his next question.

“Arthur gave it to me…he wanted to have someone check it over to make sure it was done properly,” she answered, her words making him scoff.

“Bloody Arthur,” he mumbled, shaking his head, “he probably didn’t look it over in the first place.” His statement made (Y/N) glance up at him again, her eyebrows raising as he continued to mumble something about how he should have never trusted his brother with such a big responsibility.

Not saying anything in response, (Y/N) shook her head at her husband’s mutterings before focusing herself on the ledger again. She read a few more lines, focused on the numbers and the meanings behind them, before she felt the strand of hair that had fallen in front of her face being tucked behind her ear. When she looked up, she found Tommy moving back to sit normally again after having leaned over the table. “What was that for?” she couldn’t help but ask, an eyebrow quirked.

“Just wanted to get a good look at you, love…haven’t seen you in a few days,” he answered, the right corner of his lips tugging upwards. (Y/N) couldn’t help but snort at his statement. Her reaction filled Tommy with confusion. “What?” he had to ask. Usually his smooth-talking would be met with an equally as smooth and flirty response, or at the very least a grin. So to get the complete opposite this time sent his mind into a whirl.

“Schmoozing me isn’t going to make this go away that easily, Thomas,” she told him, pressing her lips into a tight line.

“Make what go away?”

“That stunt you and your brothers pulled at the Eden Club before taking it from Sabini…” she didn’t hesitate in spelling it out for him, “there’s about a million better ways that you could have gone about that.”

Tommy sighed almost immediately after hearing the reason behind her sour mood. “(Y/N)…” he started, taking a deep drag from his cigarette before he continued - because he most certainly needed it, “we needed to show Sabini that we were serious. We didn’t enter that club with the intention of having things go the way we did…”

“Sure,” (Y/N) was quick to cut into this explanation, sarcasm laced into her voice.

“It’s the truth,” he defended himself.

“You don’t go anywhere without a plan, Tommy, and you know damn well that your plan’s going to work the way you want it to ninety-nine percent of the time. You entered that club with the intention of making a violent statement, and you and your brothers succeeded in pulling it off.”

Silence fell in the room after (Y/N) finished her frustrated statement. They kept their eyes on each other, watching the other’s moves intently; looking for any possible microexpression.

It wasn’t until Tommy glanced down at the ledger that the silence was broken: “you’re unhappy with how we went about our business there, but yet you’re still checking over the club’s ledger,” he pointed out, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Tommy…” (Y/N) said in a huff, annoyed that he had to be so cocky, but yet so right.

He said nothing in response and instead relaxed back into the chair, clasping his hands over his abdomen. The smirk that was threatening to break into his face was in full view now.

“Have you gotten your good look yet?” (Y/N) broke the silence, her one eyebrow raised inquisitively.

“Hmm?” Tommy hummed, amusement clear in his voice.

(Y/N) huffed at his response. “Will you get outta here so that I can finish this up?” she asked a different question, trying not to completely crack her countenance.

Ever the betting man, Tommy tried to wage a deal: “Depends, will I see you later?”

“If you leave now?” she asked, seeing him nod before it was her turn to grin, “maybe.”

“Alright then,” he nodded, standing from the chair to go to the door of the shop. He turned to look at her before leaving, seeing that she had already dove back into checking the ledger. He just had to get one more good look at her before leaving.

(Y/N) shook her head as she heard the door to the shop shut. That was one way to get rid of him, she thought to herself with a grin.

———

Tagged: @mystcldydrms @the-anxious-youth @cloudofdisney @look-at-the-soul @elenavampire21 @mrsalwayswrite @julkaamazing @evita-shelby @lilyrachelcassidy @notyour-valentine @shelbydelrey @onlydeadcells @peakyswritings @just-a-blackhole @watercolorskyy @strayrockette @peakyduchesss @alexxavicry @captivatedbycillianmurphy @yummycastiel @dark-academia-slut @tommystargirl @stevie75 @lyarr24 @signorellisantichrist @zablife @anotherblinder @midnightmagpiemama @cillmequick @rangerelik @dandelionprints @letal-y-poetica @itscheybaby @gypsy-girl-08 @insanitybyanothername @depxiety @raincoffeeandfandoms @dragons-are-my-favorite @youtifulsunshinelixfics @forgottenpeakywriter @cljordan-imperium @areyenotfondofmelobster @little-diable @thomashelbyswife @iambored24601 @shaddixlife

MASTERLIST

#tommy shelby #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby x y/n #tommy shelby blurb #tommy shelby fanfic #tommy shelby fanfiction #peaky blinders #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders x y/n #peaky blinders blurb #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic

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maxwellatoms · 3 months

Note

What kind of video games do you like to play Mr. Atoms?

So many! Assuming there's time. These days there's generally not, so I've been bingeing Vampire Survivors in half-hour doses.

Above is a gif from Noita, my top game of the pandemic. It's an old-school "Metroidvania", but every pixel is simulated and you're a witch who can manipulate her spells (and thereby the world) in a seemingly infinite number of ways. Here, I've built magical "buzzsaws" around myself, which blinded me to the shadow amoeba. In Noita, almost every death is due to hubris, and I think I love that pendulum swing. If you're lucky and skilled, you can become a walking whirlwind of destruction, but you're always your own worst enemy. Bonus: You can turn your vomit into rats.

I'm currently on a break in the midst of my Baldur's Gate 3 run, with a party consisting of my BG2 character's daughter, Karlatch, Lazelle, and Shadowheart. Ladies' Night!

I'm also playing a bit of Shadows of Doubt. I'm not sure it'll hold up long-term, but it's got a lot of potential.

I don't really limit myself by genre or platform, but I'd say that I primarily play indie PC games. The games in my Steam library that I keep going back to again and again?

Cities: Skylines: A chill City Building Simulator. Lots of fun mods.

Darkest Dungeon: This thing is a classic strategy game IMO.

Death Road to Canada: A light, fast Project Zomboid. Dogs with guns!

Dwarf Fortress: For me, it's the ultimate fantasy sim. I love it so much. Looking forward to Adventure Mode finally appearing on Steam.

Project Zomboid: The ultimate lonely 2D zombie apocalypse survival game. Or non-survival game, I suppose.

Total War: Warhammer: For when I'm in a strategy-y mood. Like a lot of people, I'm a bit soured on the modern DLC scene, so I'm still waiting on #3 even though I'm a Chaos stan.

Not on Steam? I do play some Star Citizen from time to time. I backed it a decade ago. I used to joke that it was the game I was going to retire into, but more and more that's looking less and less like a joke. Still, it's made some good progress in the last couple of years and I'm hopeful that repair and engineering turn out to be fun.

The game I'm looking forward to most would be the next Elder Scrolls. I know it's still a ways off. Ever since my Nereverine landed in Morrowind with the intention of becoming a just and righteous cleric and instead found herself an unwitting villain and colonizer, I fell in love with the Elder Scrolls and it's deep, gray lore. It is (for me) a great way to really get into a character's head. Roleplaying... go figure.

Since Morrowind (and a backtrack into Daggerfall), I only allow myself one canon playthrough. My rule is to "let it ride", so that aside from death, if I screw up or if something unexpected happens I don't save-scum. All of my characters are related, either by quest or bloodline. I already know that my next character will be Aventus Aretino (the kid you catch summoning the Dark Brotherhood). My Skyrim character (above) had adopted him and then left him in the hands of a vampire, so I should be covered even if there's a big time jump. Now I just have to wait six more years for the game. And then maybe two for mods. God I'm so old.

I need to spend more time with Dave the Diver.

Anything current I'm missing out on?

#maxwell atoms #video games #all over the map

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ivymarquis · 10 months

Text

Blind Date

Me: “why the fuck is this fic taking so long to finish?”

The fic: *is the longest singular piece I’ve ever written for one chapter*

Pairing| John Price x F!Single Mom!Reader Rating| M Word Count| 8.4k Kinks/Content/Warnings| Drinking (everyone is clear headed), run ins with a shitty ex, mentions of abuse from prior relationship, these two are incredibly down bad for each other, oral (m! and f!receiving), protected piv, squirting

There is a certain catharsis in lamenting your dating horror stories with men to a married lesbian who’s over a decade older than you. Kate is always willing to lend an ear, and you’re positive that she gets a kick out of your misadventures in the way so many married people did while listening to their single friends.

“I swear I’m this close to just giving up all together and embracing spinsterhood,” you grouse with a drink in your hand after the work day had concluded.

You like to think your standards aren’t unreasonable. Someone kind, with their head on straight. It felt like finding a man who respects you as a person is becoming too big an ask and you very simply would rather be alone than deal with the endless hoard of men who seem hell bent on destroying any confidence you have in yourself.

“What about the guy you went out with yesterday?” Kate inquires with her head tilted. Must be fun, listening to your ramblings with a devoted partner at home.

“Oh did I not tell you? He was engaged!”

Kate pulls a face like her drink soured on her, matching how you’d felt at the time.

“Even better- guess how I found out he’s engaged.”

“She showed up at the restaurant?” Kate hits the nail on the head on the first try.

“Bingo,” you raise your glass in a gesture of affirmation before finishing it off. “Somehow I ended up being the one getting yelled at in that situation. Un-friggin-believable.”

You don’t abuse your work privileges to creep on people you meet in your personal life, but public record could have spared you if he’d been married. Harder to find out about an engagement from a total stranger who was determined to not let you find out about it and didn’t have social media.

“There’s always the other side,” Kate teases.

“Women scare me too much, I get all nervous.” You could appreciate an attractive woman as much as the next gal but good God you just could not help yourself when it came to men. The subtle way their breathing would change before they made their move, that low timber growling in your ear. The sheer weight of one on top of you as he manhandled you into the bedding-

Dear Lord, you need to get laid. Maybe you’re fixating on it too much because you’ve had an over 2 year dry spell. That tends to happen after a baby though. Especially with a pain in the ass ex who thinks he can pick and choose when to be around (and becomes absolutely incensed each time you remind him he could be consistent or he could stay home).

Kate is thoughtful for a moment, clearly kicking around an idea she hasn’t fully committed to in one direction or another. You can see the moment she decides to proceed with the thought. “Depending on what exactly you’re looking for, I might know someone.”

��

And here you are on a Saturday night, nerves clawing at your belly like a rabid dog.

Most (well, all) of the men you’ve dated you met online. There’s almost additional butterflies beyond the first-meet jitters knowing that the date is set up by a mutual friend.

There’s more at stake, even if the stakes are relatively low pressure. If the guys you met online did something incredibly out of pocket you never had to see them again, and held no qualms divulging the events to friends. Your romantic life has been full of misadventures but has given you a handful of stories, and as strangers you never have to consider any possible fallout in telling those stories.

Your son is with your mother for the night, allowing you the opportunity to focus solely on yourself this evening. No concern about keeping an eye on him while getting ready, worrying about what possible trouble he’ll get into when your back is turned.

It is hard at times- striking that balance between wanting to be a good mom and also wanting to be acknowledged as a desirable woman who has needs. A lot of men are shitty about it. You’d grilled Kate for every detail of his reaction when being informed of your young son. You don’t need another ambush regarding your disinterest in making it work with your son’s father.

She’d soothed your nerves- he hadn’t batted an eye, was about as worried about your reaction to how often his job pulled him away as you were about him having a poor reaction to being a single mom. You both have responsibilities that have to be placed above a relationship, now go play nice and have fun.

You tell yourself you can have one drink while waiting at the bar of the restaurant you’d agreed to meet at.

White wine ends up being your pick- not quite so easy to suck down as a tasty cocktail full of liquor, but gives you something to occupy yourself with.

You’ve only had the drink a handful of minutes before hearing someone clear their throat slightly behind you, and then your name.

Kate has shown you a photo of what he looks like so you’re not caught off guard when you turn around.

He’s handsome. You expect that but it’s different seeing him opposed to just the photo. Kind eyes, a warm smile on his face as he takes you in.

At least you both seem pleased with the big reveal.

“I’ve got a table waiting for us if you’re ready, love.”

He holds out a hand to let you balance yourself as you dismount from the bar seating, allowing you to steady yourself in your heels.

His hand is warm on your waist as he guides you and you’re already smitten by the time the pair of you sit down.

You’re fifteen minutes into dinner when you decide that so long as he a) is willing and b) doesn’t say or do anything completely deranged, you are going to ride Captain John Price like a mechanical bull at a shitty dive bar at the end of the night.

Perhaps the bar is in hell but either way you have been utterly deprived the past few years and he is checking plenty of boxes for you.

“So you work with Kate?” Starting off on the easy footing- the common ground that leads you both here.

“I do. Not directly- I work more on the tech side. I’m an independent contractor, I basically built the entire system she runs off of.”

“Beauty and brains,” his praise warms you, an impressed expression on his face. “Would explain how we’ve never crossed paths if you were hiding in a backroom surrounded by monitors,” he teases.

“You’re actually not that far off the mark,” not that you hide persay, but keeping that contract keeps a roof over your head and food in your child’s mouth. That keeps you busy. The fewer people who know how to work your program, the harder you are to get rid of.

You may or may not have hidden a few kill switches. Job security you call it. Though it’s not exactly first date material to talk about how you’ve got a government agency in a mutual understanding- keep extending your contract, and the program continues to work.

Either way, you don’t have much contact with the soldiers. Maybe you have passed each other in the halls but probably not- you’re certain a face like that wouldn’t have escaped your notice, introduction via a mutual friend or no. But you decide to utilize that mutual friend to shift the conversation. He’s hedged around talking about his work- on his end, sees that as the thing that might be a deal breaker for you. Probably wants to delay that until you've at least gotten your entrees.

So you go from business to hobbies. And it’s probably not entirely fair, but you’re about to see what his sense of humor is.

“Kate mentioned you’re a big soccer fan?” You make sure your expression is wide and doe eyed as you ask the question.

His eyebrow twitches- caught, no doubt, between wanting to leave a good first impression and biting back it’s football over here, love.

You crack far quicker than you initially plan, the wide grin on your face as you let him off the hook he’s good naturedly trying not to bite.

“Beauty, brains, and a comedian, lucky me.”

“I’m sorry, I had to. In fact, it was in her terms for this,” you make a vague gesture with your hand.

“Trust Kate to wheel and deal just to get my blood pressure up,” he muses as he takes a sip from his drink.

The conversation rolls easily enough- an ebb and flow as one of you poses a question, the other answering before allowing the first to say their contribution to the subject and moving on.

He’s charming, attentive, and a good storyteller. The way he carries himself screams military without being overbearing. He’s relaxed back into his chair and something about the scene in front of you makes you want to climb into his lap like a domesticated house cat.

Being the field captain to a specialized task force it’s no shock that he’s in incredible shape and you find yourself slightly distracted on more than one occasion by his hands and forearms.

The food is wonderful though the company is better- you end up moving back to the bar for fresh drinks and to free up the table for the server.

You spend a good length of time just talking with him at the bar.

John’s attention is on you but it’s clear he’s proverbially chewing on something the further on you go.

“That is the look of someone with a question they’re not entirely positive they want an answer to,” you’ve got a habit of being a touch direct at times. Amazing how it streamlines a conversation though.

“Observant one, aren’t you?” He pauses, takes another sip of his drink. “It’s probably none of my business, but ah- is your son’s father in the picture at all?”

It was your turn to take a drink. This was always such a fun topic of conversation. Frankly the number of men who took your ex’s side when the whole custody arrangement gets brought up alarms you.

But he has a right to his son.

Fuck that.

Your child is not property and you do not give a singular shit about your ex’s feelings- especially if it comes at the expense of your son’s safety. But it saves you a substantial amount of time not wasting energy on someone who could not understand the reason for your decisions.

“The short answer to the question is no. I had already left him by the time I found out I was pregnant, and given I left because he’s a raging alcoholic- with the emphasis on the rage-,” what a nice, polite way to say he is an abusive asshole. Your gaze shifts down towards the bartop, missing the way John’s expression softens as he reads between the lines of what you say. They’re not pleasant memories, but you’re not a wounded bird anymore- you’ve tended to your clipped wings and grown new feathers. “I didn’t want him involved.”

“He ended up finding out from a mutual acquaintance, and while he claims he wants to be around, he hasn’t done much other than blow my phone up at midnight trying to throw his weight around every time he gets a new girlfriend. So I get to be the cold blooded harpy that he gets to cry about- which is fine by me. On paper he says he wants to be involved, but he’s made absolutely no effort to arrange plans or anything while sober. I haven’t seen him in over 2 years. I can’t trust him to be a safe parent, and since he’s not on any official records I get final say unless he wants to go to court over it.”

Your whole little house of cards hinges on the fact that your ex wants everyone to bend over backwards for him while doing nothing for anyone else. All it would take would be one subpoena for a paternity test and your hands would be tied. He is an incredibly functional alcoholic, so there isn’t a criminal record or anything you can do to prove he would be unfit. There’s no proof of the abuse he inflicted on you.

Which means, if push comes to shove, you would be forced to relinquish sole custody and hand your child over for unsupervised visitation.

But that requires effort on his part. And that effort is the only thing keeping your little house of cards afloat.

“Sorry that’s probably way more information than you wanted-“ good job. Everything was going great until you laid out your drama.

“No apology necessary; I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want to know.”

And there’s no lecture about how you should give your ex a chance, that the opportunity to raise his son could make him change for the better. No dissertation on how you owe it to your son to do whatever it took to make things work with his father (that had been a weird way to end a date, and the only reason you hadn’t gotten up sooner and left was because it was such a bizarre conversation you’d half convinced yourself the whole thing had to be a bad dream).

You’re not a wounded bird and on the one hand it’s a good thing to get everything laid out on the table, but on the other you don’t want to sit and mope about your personal troubles. You’re actually enjoying John Price’s company, and don’t want to think about your problems.

And yes you are enjoying the time for what it is but part of you can’t help but also keep an eye out for… any opportunities for a transition.

As hot under the collar as you are, John’s gaze makes warmth coil in your gut in a way that has nothing to do with the wine- he’s being a gentleman.

It’s sweet. He’s being polite and respectful and showing sexual discipline while making it clear he’s interested.

And for all your bemoaning of prior dates with other men who aren’t captains of specialized task forces about how they were too pushy and too presumptuous and a nice dinner paired with drinks doesn’t entitle them to you dropping your panties—

Yet here you sit, hours into a conversation when you’d decided 15 minutes in you want to jump his bones. And you have to be patient otherwise you’re a total hypocrite.

You’re not entirely subtle. The pair of you are perched on barstools again, much closer than the table allowed you to be with the two of you angled towards each other.

Your dress looks good on you. A jewel toned blue that compliments your skin beautifully, the hemline stopping above your knees and loose enough to bounce tantalizingly when you hit your stride walking.

It’s not exactly an olive branch, but it is an offering of sorts when you carefully take the leg closest to John and cross it over the other. The hemline of your skirt slips up your thigh, exposing more of your leg. It stops just shy of exposing the top of your stockings and the clip to your garter. It does show just a hint of the darker border to your stockings, the lace peeking ever so slightly before transitioning to the sheer material that covers the rest of your legs.

You’re incredibly pleased with yourself when his eyes flick down for a split second and linger before snapping back to your face. Got you. He tries to hide behind being caught with a sheepish clearing of his throat. It’s adorable, really.

Your cheeks are starting to get sore from all the smiling and laughing that’s occurred over the past few hours. But he’s pleasant company so it’s a discomfort you’re happy to deal with.

You look past him for a split second- nothing in particular catching your attention but just taking in the scenery of the restaurant behind you. Your eyes are back on him in a moment only for your brain to process what it saw after a delay.

There’s no fucking way-

Yes. Yes there is. Your ex is mingling in the background, and you don’t even realize the smile on your face has fallen to a flat line like all the previous giddiness is draining out of you and pooling on the floor below.

It would not take a captain of an antiterrorism task force to see your sharp shift in disposition, so John notices immediately.

“Everything alright, love?”

Maybe he won’t see you. Maybe, if there is a God and he is merciful, your ex won’t look in your direction, won’t see you, and you can continue your cheerful plan of trying to seduce your date.

And whether there is not a God or he is just not merciful- either option remains with you having the same shit result. He turns his head and makes direct eye contact. God damn it.

You look back to John. You’d hoped you could move past talking about your ex for the evening. “Remember how I said I haven’t seen my ex in over 2 years?”

There’s a twinge of relief on his face- the look of a man grateful to not be the cause of your displeasure.

“Let me guess- he’s right behind me?”

“Not quite “right behind”, but yes. Hopefully he’ll just-“ a short huff off agitation leaves you as you cut yourself off.

So much for hoping he’d simply mind his business and stay with his group. He’s making his way towards the pair of you at the bar, and you can tell he’s had a good number of drinks in his system just looking at him.

You’d become extremely proficient at gauging how drunk your ex is at a glance. A skill you developed while still with him and one that doesn’t seem to have faded.

This is, you know without question, going to end up being absolutely humiliating for you. You just know it.

“I am going to go ahead and apologize now for whatever is going to come out of his mouth,” you inform John.

His hand finds your knee, giving a light, reassuring squeeze. “It’ll be alright, love.”

“Well what do we have here?” is the warning shot letting you know he’s not going to show any form of civility.

“Hello, Michael,” you greet cooly, mind spinning a hundred miles an hour trying to figure out how to end this conversation as quickly as possible.

“You don’t have time to answer my texts but you’ve got time to go out. That’s good. Good to know you’ve got your priorities in order,” he starts.

“Answering your texts isn’t even remotely on my priority list, you know that.” You’re trying incredibly hard to keep yourself from being outright nasty but a whole lot of old wounds float up to the surface at the sight of your ex.

Maybe your new feathers aren’t as filled out as you’d initially thought. You feel raw and exposed and it’s difficult to think. You know what you should do, how you should handle it- and there’s still that one little part in your brain that is keeping tabs on John and his response to all of this.

“Your priority should be my son-“ he starts,

“-who is with his perfectly capable grandmother for the evening, thank you,” you finish for him, jaw set tightly. “Why are you here?”

The direct question is aggressive but you know the cycle with him too well to allow him to steer the conversation. He’ll run you in circle after circle until you’re so frazzled you can’t discern left from right.

“Can’t say hello and introduce myself to your new fella? Come on now, where’s your manners?”

Your eyes widen as Michael reaches a hand out- there is no way this asshole is about to grab you in public.

Quick as a snake, John runs interference and drapes his arm across the back of your chair, his fingers holding the shoulder furthest from him lightly.

The entire length of your back and shoulders are blocked by the SAS captain, forcing Michael’s hand back as there was no easy place for it to land that wouldn’t also be touching John.

Up until now, John has been quiet and assessing the situation. Not bowing up or trying to assert himself- letting you deal with your ex and navigate the situation for yourself.

The look on his face is downright unpleasant to put lightly. This is the man in charge of an elite task force, who barks orders at soldiers who drop everything at once because he told them to-

-and you don’t feel so exposed anymore. You find yourself sitting up a bit straighter only for John to gently stroke his knuckles against your shoulder in a soothing gesture. The gesture isn’t a miraculously grand one, but one that makes you realize you’re not alone in this situation even as disorienting as it is. And if you’re being honest with yourself, the upright posture and shifting of your thighs isn’t so much a stress response to your ex as you keying in on John’s response to the whole situation.

“John, Michael- Michael, John. There, now you’re introduced.” Go away now please.

Your ex is too drunk and too full of himself to see the writing on the wall, and continues to poke the bear. “Well, since she doesn’t seem to want to give a proper introduction-“ he sticks an arm out, and you can’t help but notice how the simple gesture causes him to need to correct his balance. Good lord it was barely dark out and he’s already-

Well. Not your problem. Not anymore, at any rate.

John is sitting to your left, his right arm the one that’s draped across the back of your chair. The pair of you flash a quick look to each other, John lifting his arm from your chair to take Michael’s hand and-

God.

Damn.

It.

The exchange is actually as hilarious as it is embarrassing (You can’t quite decide if it’s all the second hand cringe variety, or first hand because Look, John! Here’s the father of my child! I sure know how to pick a partner! Is still coiling in the depths of your stomach). You’d prefer if it simply never occurred at all.

You can see your ex’s forearm flexing as he shakes John’s hand. The microexpression that flicks across your date’s face confirms your suspicion- Michael is (for some reason) trying to use an overexaggerated grip to establish some sort of dominance in the situation.

The quick really? that reads on John’s face rapidly turns to a bemused and subtle if that’s how you want to play then, a barely noticeable shift in his own grip resulting in Michael wincing.

“Captain John Price,” his tone is easy, betraying none of the pissing contest your ex instigated and is failing miserably to get one over on John.

Your ex mumbles his full name, clearly realizing that whatever his brilliant little plan is a) isn’t so brilliant to begin with b) he might just be alert enough to acknowledge the fact that he clearly has no true plan. He came over with the intention of being an asshole and has been flying blind the entire time.

There’s one woman from the group your ex split off from who is watching the three of you keenly. If you were to guess, she is probably his new girlfriend.

You can’t help but wonder- does she know enough to know that this is routine behavior for him? That he throws himself headfirst into a situation he hasn’t planned out- isn’t sober enough to plan out? Situations that don’t need to occur just so he can throw his weight around? Too petty to give a genuine “Hello, how are you? It’s been a while. I want to talk to you about Sam when we’ve both got some free time?”

Everything is vindictive. Constantly worrying about not being undermined and being respected to the point he gets in his own way. Actively sabotages his own opportunities. In dire need of therapy to work through his issues because you know the alcohol is how he copes and you’d sympathized at first but the reasons became excuses and then he’d started blaming you and-

-John places his arm on the back of your chair again and you pull yourself out of your mental spiral.

“I think your date is waiting for you, Michael. Best not to keep the lady waiting.” John observes, his tone neutral despite being a clear dismissal.

“You’ll be hearing from me later. I want to see my son.” Michael’s ignoring John’s presence but taking the hint.

You don’t fling a final barb at him. The venom has been drained out of you and you just want the interaction over and done with. Let him have the last word. You just want him gone.

You merely cast a look over at the woman who is Michael’s date for the evening and hope she’s got better sense than you did- that she leaves before he sinks his claws in her too.

The weight that settled in your stomach upon first seeing him is finally lightening up on you. You know you’ll wake up tomorrow to a barrage of phone calls and text messages that you won’t answer. It’s probably not good you’re so desensitized to the idea that it barely registers as a problem. Merely one of life’s many inconveniences.

“You alright, love?” John’s voice helps you shake the last of the tendrils that cling to you.

“Yes. Sorry. Wasn’t expecting to run into him of all people tonight, is all.”

“Never fun being ambushed, is it?”

You take a bit of a risk- you know enough about his job but he’s steered the conversation away from it every time the topic would naturally shift that direction. You know how Kate’s work can go and you assume his is very similar. “Well you’d certainly know more about that than I would.”

It works. The two of you break out in grins, and you find yourself no longer worrying about Michael and your focus readily settling back on John where it belongs.

At some point- long after the single cube in John’s drink has melted, and the condensation of your wine glass has soaked the bev nap underneath it, and more importantly long enough that you don’t feel that you’re fleeing the restaurant- the suggestion is made to go back to John’s. “No more surprises, hm?”

You gladly follow him. You’d taken an Uber to get to the restaurant, anticipating drinking and hoping to go home with him, so you have no worries about your own car.

You can easily see him being the type to give you a quick, chaste kiss on the doorstep after safely dropping you at home. In another universe you’d appreciate the restraint, enjoy fleeting touches over the course of a few dates that get more intense each time before finally finding yourself in his bed.

In this universe however, you don’t have to wait. Don’t want to, either. You get to indulge your earlier impulse of crawling into his lap, knees spread wide on either side of his waist. Lowering your hips allows you to feel him and what exactly he’s packing between his own legs. Your hips cant in short motions and heat coils heavy in your gut.

From the feel of things he’s proportional and John is not a small man. There’s a brief flicker that runs through your mind that you might be in over your head with him. The pent up lust and desire stifles that flicker. You’re more than game to see what a night with him ends up being like.

His hands are warm against your skin- one cupping the back of your head and keeping you close as the pair of you make out, the other settles on your hip and keeps you steady as you grind down on him.

You are possessed with the desire to get his cock in your mouth.

It’s cute how his face follows yours as you pull away from him.

“Help me with my dress?” Your question is perfectly innocent as you turn your back to him, presenting the zipper that runs down the length of your back.

His pleased laugh warms you, a shiver of desire and anticipation running down your spine as his breath fans across the back of your neck.

You’ve got a surprise waiting for him underneath your dress, partially revealed as one of his hands holds the top of the dress steady while the other draws the zipper down.

You gave him the hint you were wearing stockings when you’d baited him back at the restaurant, letting the heavy fabric of the dress fall to a heap around you before kicking it off to one side.

Turning back to face him, John seems quite enraptured with his surprise.

The lingerie set is a matching shade as your jewel toned dress, the garter belt clipping to the sheer black thigh high stockings.

There’s always that split second hesitation when revealing yourself to someone- the anxiety of if they’ll be pleased with what’s presented to them.

John is the first person you’ve been with since you’ve had your child, and the slight anxiety quells quickly at the look on his face.

John looks like he wants to eat you alive. Any insecurity is knocked firmly aside by desire quickly ramping back up.

Placing one hand on his thigh to steady yourself as you lift a leg to take your shoe off, John is quick to stop you. “Leave them on for now, love.”

It’s a request but it’s not. Really that doesn’t surprise you- he is someone who is likely used to having his whims accommodated to. You find yourself having no urge to defy him, nodding in compliance. If John wants your heels to stay on, then they’ll stay.

He guides you between his legs, enough space between his knees for you to slot yourself in. With him sitting on the bed he’s shorter than you standing straight up in your heels. Bending down to give a quick, teasing kiss you let yourself drop to your own knees.

“You don’t have to-“

“I want to,” you assure him with doe eyes and are rewarded with him settling into the bed as your hands go to work on his belt.

Unable to resist teasing him, you mouth at his bulge through the thick fabric of his pants. You’re rewarded with a soft cant of his hips, having his belt undone and working on the button and zip of his pants in record time.

Your earlier suspicions are correct. John is a big boy in more ways than one. You want him in your mouth- now.

While you’re occupying yourself with getting his pants off, John shucks his shirt and shoes.

He is, simply put, delicious to look at. From the broad muscling to the thick dark hair running from his chest down his abdomen. He doesn’t have the hard chiseled abs of a man who lives in the gym but the sturdy build that comes from having useful, functional muscle that’s put to work.

And that’s incredibly hot. He’s girthy as hell in your hand as you give a few strokes before putting your mouth on him.

You’re not entirely certain if deep throating him is going to be an option, but by God you’re going to try.

“Bloody hell, love.” John grunts while you bob your head up and down the length of him. You’re gauging just how much of him you can get in your mouth- where your threshold is before your gag reflex wants to kick in.

He’s petting you. Doubtless trying to fight the urge to fist your hair, his hips struggling to stay still on the bed.

You want him to. You feel feral, all the pent up sexual energy you’ve been storing for God-knows-how-long welling up all at once. You want this man carnally and your brain presently thinks having your hair held in place and your throat fucked is a fantastic idea.

John clearly has other plans, restraining himself and letting you work at your own pace. That low, deep breathing paired with his soft grunts and voiced encouragements stoke the flames of your arousal hotter.

Eventually you do need air, pulling off of him for a moment. Your hand works his shaft and teases the tip of him as you lean forward to run your tongue up and down the length of him, dropping a bit lower to lave at his heavy sac. He jolts which only encourages you to do it again.

You know your eyes are one of your better features- you’ve heard the compliment enough times both in and out of the bedroom, holding John’s gaze as you lick him back up the length of his shaft and circle the head once before having caught your breath enough to wrap your lips around him once more.

The second time around you’re able to get a bit more of him down your throat, but not all the way. What you can’t reach you stroke with one hand, the other resting on his thigh to help balance yourself as you work. You can feel the tension building in his thigh as he gets closer, pleased with yourself.

It’s a heady feeling. You don’t know exactly all the dirty details of his job but understand enough to know you’ve got a powerful man at your whim right now and that scratches a deep seated itch in you.

“Good girl,” his praise washes over you, warm and welcoming. “Just like that-“

You’re intent on sucking the soul out of him, all doe eyes and hollowed cheeks with those painted red lips. Eventually he gives into the urge to grab a fistful of your hair. He doesn’t do anything to interrupt the rhythm you’ve settled into, letting you move as you see fit.

He bites out your name and you feel the muscles in his leg drawn tight. “I’m getting close, love.”

It’s not quite a question. You give your not-answer by doubling down on him. You’re so close to having him in your mouth all the way to the base. You don’t want to back off. What you do want is for him to finish down your throat.

You get your wish. John’s fist tightens and you let out a grunt as his thrusting results in your nose pressed against his public bone.

The taste of him doesn’t really register as he spills inside your mouth, your focus on breathing through your nose and keeping your gag reflex down.

He’s petting your hair again, praises falling freely from him and soft apologizes. “Lost myself for a moment there, love. You alright?”

You keep your mouth hilted on him for a moment to prove a point- you’re fine, he didn’t push you past threshold- before finally releasing his softening cock.

He’s pulling you up to him after that, an open mouthed kiss that flusters you considering he just came in your mouth. “You’re just a treasure,” his voice purrs in your ear. “Only fair I return the favor, hm?”

He guides you to lay on the bed, knees hanging over the edge before he turns to settle between your legs.

He starts at your neck. You’re ticklish at one spot his lips, squirming in his hold with a giggle. “Sensitive, hm?”

You nod out a “mhm,” that breaks into a breathy moan as he works his way down your chest. Rather than removing your bra his hands work to pull your breasts free from the cups before paying particular attention to your nipples.

His hands are warm as they roam your ribcage, the heat of his body seeping through the lace of your outfit as his fingers trail across your skin and the delicate material.

“You’re so soft, love,” you don’t quite know how to respond to the compliment, mewling wordlessly in pleasure at the attention.

That seems to appease him as he kisses his way down your sternum and to your belly, the expanse of most of it covered by the fabric of the garter belt.

His eyes flick up to your own as his lips travel closer to the apex of your thighs. Where you’ve been lying patient and pliant in his grasp, the eye contact draws something tight in your core and you squirm again.

The next thing you feel is teeth as he nips you. “Be a good girl for me,” he tells you, soothing the soft throb of his bite with his tongue.

You force yourself to still as he moves lower, lower, lower- taking his time and having you thoroughly worked up before moving to the next patch of skin.

When he’s down far enough he slides one of your thighs over his shoulder, that arm looping under your arm and banding across your abdomen.

It’s his turn now to mouth at your clothed sex.

He pulls the gusset of your thong aside after a moment of teasing, his lips descending on you.

“Oh,” your hand immediately finds purchase in his hair, a pleased whimper escaping you at the feel of John’s tongue.

John feasts on you. There’s not much else that can be done to describe it. It’s lewd and wet as he laps at you, the flesh of his tongue doing little to soothe the burning ache inside you and only ramping it up.

Those eyes are wicked as he gazes up at you from between your thighs. The hand resting on your lower stomach is pressing ever so lightly, like John wants the pressure there but not too much yet and you’re once again struck with the idea you might be in over your head with him.

“John, please,” you beg. It feels good but you need more, lust clouding your brain as your hips rock against his face.

“You need to be patient, love. I’ll take care of you. Just relax, hm?”

It dawns on you that he’s probably running down the clock until his refractory period is up. That he doesn’t want to get you going too quick and then be stuck not quite ready to perform.

It’s an assumption, and you’re not 100% sure that you’re correct, but it’s a solid enough option that you move forward with that in mind.

The thought almost makes it easier to relax into the bed- the idea that John is going to pleasure you with his mouth until enough time has passed and he can get it up again. That he’s not just mindlessly toying with you with no end goal in mind.

It feels good you’re just stuck being greedy and wanting more stimulation despite knowing that won’t happen until John decides he’s ready to give you more.

You almost jump when the fingers you’ve been waiting for make their presence known. His mouth moves to focus on your clit, lips making a seal and sucking on it. You cry out, hips canting as his fingers gently rub at your labia.

He starts with one, gently sliding it in and out of you. Your back arches in satisfaction of having something to clench on and rub against. It’s more satisfying than just one of your own- that was for sure.

“That’s it love,” John praises you while easing a second one into you.

The second finger is what you were looking for, stimulation wise. John pets and strokes you, thumb gently working over your clit in soft circles before putting his mouth back on you.

He doesn’t just find your g-spot. John’s fingers are placed so they hone in on that spongy bit of tissue tucked inside you. He doesn’t let up on it, tongue working on your clit as you arch your back helplessly and moan.

That pressure is back on your abdomen, the hand not currently stroking you to nirvana pressing down on your belly.

You moan and buck against his hold. Your orgasm is creeping up on you and it’s like he’s determined to make you squirt.

“You keep that up and I’m gonna make a mess,” you warn him- not entirely certain how he’ll respond to the prospect of you squirting on his face.

John looks delighted and you realize that yes, you are in over your head with him.

There’s a mischievous glint in his eye as he pulls back from you, “You promise, love? Don’t tease me.”

Oh dear God- Next thing you know he’s reaching over you to pull a pillow from the top of the bed, wedging it underneath your hips before returning to his place between your thighs.

You’re flustered at how eager he is to see you squirt. His mouth is back on you, sucking on your clit and making your legs shake as two fingers go right back to abusing your g-spot, his free hand pressing on your belly increasing the pressure that is mounting by the second.

There’s nothing else for you to do but grab a fistful of his hair and hang on. “Please- oh! J-John! Right there,” at your encouragement he locks in on the spot that’s got you arching your back and your thighs trembling.

“That’s it, pretty girl. Show me,” he’s moaning encourments against your skin and you feel like a bow drawn tight and ready to snap. You’re so, so close.

The sounds he draws out of you- both from your mouth and between your legs- are filthy and vulgar and you don’t care at all as he gets you teetering just on the edge.

You’re practically gasping for breath, eyes screwing shut as the hand not buried in John’s hair fists the sheets next to you. You babble his name, chants of John all your brain can muster.

All that pressure coiling in you snaps and gushes out, literally and metaphorically.

“Good girl, making such a mess for me,” John’s praise has you flushing hot while his fingers work you like he’s making sure he can wring out every single last drop.

He stops when you have nothing left to give him, a trembling mess shivering in his hold.

Your brain at some point made the windows shut down noise, needing a moment to settle as you process what John just did to you.

This is the hardest you’ve cum in ages, certainly better than the orgasms you’ve given yourself during your little dry spell.

You return to the land of the living with his lips on yours, tasting yourself as he soothingly strokes your side. “You back with me?” He asks, eliciting a nod from you.

“Please tell me you have a condom,” your tone is pleading. You still want to ride him but you’ve learned your lesson about practicing safe sex. Once was, in fact, all it took for things to go off the rail.

“I do,” he stands, moving to the nightstand and opening a drawer.

Now that your legs feel somewhat compliant you sit yourself back up.

No sooner than John’s got the condom on then you’re guiding him back down, having him lay on the edge of the bed.

It takes a bit of maneuvering, getting yourself situated so your heels don’t catch on his sheets, but you’re straddling him with the leg closest to the edge of the bed hanging over the side as the opposite leg folds underneath you. You hover over him while getting everything lined up. The position of your legs allows you to alternate which one is supporting the brunt of your weight, a factor that is going to be fairly important once you’ve hilted yourself on John.

Even with how pliant your body is it takes a moment for the head of him to breach you.

“Oh,” you let out a breath as you sink down on him. You’re not able to get all the way to the base of him on the first go, getting your weight underneath yourself and lifting almost completely off of him before dropping down again. You get a little further this time, a moan escaping you.

“That’s it, love. Nice and easy,” his voice coos in your ear, that low timber having you liable to melt.

He’s thick. Not in a way that’s insurmountable to manage, but you have absolutely no complaints with how he fills you and anticipate being pleasantly sore in the morning.

Two more slow bounces have you sinking low enough to hilt yourself on him, taking a moment to enjoy the sensation of sitting fully on his lap.

One of his hands braces on your hip, the other his thumb circles your clit. You squirm at the stimuli, relishing in the feel of him before getting to work.

This is what you’ve been drooling over all night. Your reward is very well earned in your opinion. Moaning lowly as you bounce up and down, your movements are initially slow and languid but pick up speed as you get your bearings. John’s heavy exhales and grunts when you clench only serve to wind you tighter.

“You feel good, pretty girl? Hm? You like bouncing on my cock?”

You flush- a ridiculous notion given how you’re quite literally hilted on his dick-, face hot from the dirty talk.

The hand on your hip helps guide you to a pace that’s pleasurable for the both of you, eyes rolling as he thrusts his hips in a way that makes you see stars. “Yes! John- yes! Oh it feels so good,” your voice a low purr as he delivers on every fantasy you’ve had this evening.

The stretch of him in you feels absolutely incredible, knocking the air out of you on each bounce. It doesn’t take long until that knot begins to form again, growing steadily as you rise and fall in his lap. The press of his finger circling your clit draws staggered moans, bracing on him for support.

“Been thinking about this all night,” John grits out. “Wanted to flip you over the bar top and have my way with you right there on the dining room floor.”

You moan at the confession, feeling less like a rabid dog with no impulse control now you know you’re not alone in the intense desire that had struck once you’d laid eyes on him.

“Probably wouldn’t have- ah! st-stopped you,” you tell him. The grip on your hip tightens at that, another moan escaping you as you bounce on him.

Your eyes roll in pleasure, cunt practically fluttering from the way he keeps getting you to clench. The thickness of his girth doesn’t just let him keep hitting that spot in you with lift of your hips so much as the mushroom tipped head of his cock drags across it.

“Aren’t you just a fucking treasure,” he praises.

Your thighs are burning, eased by the position of your legs and John’s grip helping you but becoming more present with each wet clap of your sex against his lap. It almost helps you tip closer to another climax.

Your eyes squeeze shut, a staggered breath escaping you.

“Eyes on me,” he tells you and you comply immediately.

“John, please I’m so close,” your thighs are shaking again, threatening your already precarious balance.

“You need more, pretty girl?”

You shake your head. “No-no. Just don’t stop. Please don’t stop!”

And bless him, he doesn’t do anything to fuck up your rhythm. The fingers circling your clit keep the same tempo and pressure perfectly, his free hand still helping guide you up and out of his lap before sitting you back down.

You know you’re about to come but are caught off guard by how sharp it is as you squirt for a second time.

The sight of you spurting across his abdomen nearly severs any control John has left. The next thing you know John’s abandoned your overstimulated clit in favor of rolling you onto your back, your heels clattering to the floor from the motion. Your legs go instinctively to clamp around his waist for security- only one of them does, the other stopped by wet fingers gripping your thigh by your knee as he spreads you open. His weight is held on the forearm bracing next to your head by the time you process the shift in position.

“You alright, pretty girl?”

You can’t quite get your words out but manage a nod. “Ye-yeah,” you eventually stagger out as he waits for a verbal confirmation.

With the comfort that you were fine, that gives John the assurance he needs to seek his own pleasure.

More than satisfied with your two climaxes, you lay limp and pliant in his grasp while he chases his own end.

The wet squelch of his cock splitting you open with each thrust was loud and obscene although you were too far gone in the blissed out pleasure to care. Your whole body feels delightfully tingly, your head swimming pleasantly.

You clench down on him a few times, more for his benefit than anything else. You’re spent but more than willing to help him across the finish line as he buries his face in the crook of your neck, muttering praises that are punctured with short, sharp thrusts before he stiffens as his own climax hits.

The two of you have both broken into a light sheen of sweat by the end of things. After a moment to recuperate John stands with a “I’ll be right back.” (And you unabashedly enjoy the view of his ass while he retreats to the bathroom.)

True to his word he returns shortly, evidently having disposed of the condom with a towel in hand for you.

The pair of you get yourselves clean and sorted. Before you can decide how you want to ask, John seems to already know what the question is.

“You don’t need to leave, do you?”

Again it’s not entirely a question, but still gives you an out if you want to take it.

You don't want to take the out.

#john price x reader #captain john price #john price #x single mom reader #cod x reader #cod mwii #my writing #now I gotta name this bitch because I totally plan on a whole series and the other characters can’t be calling her love all the time lmao #i wrote and coded this whole thing on my phone because my laptop has once again quit on me

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ofallthingsnasty · 2 years

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There's always those stories of Fae would have a fuck ton of kids with humans and I can't help but think it's a breeding kink. Like maybe fae pregnancies are really long, especially in comparison to human pregnancies (9 months is nothing to a fae) so when Fae realize that they just can't stop themselves from grabbing the first pretty fertile human they see.

Just imagine it; being some pretty young girl who happened to catch the attention of a fae and getting whisked away to be treated like a prized broodmare, constantly being breed. If your fae gets really attached they might just use their magic to keep you young and fertile forever.

I need to brush up on faeries 1000% because I did not grow up with them and did NOT know that lol. How... curious... 👀👀 I am very intrigued ehe

tw.yandere, noncon, pregnancy, minors dni, as always my shitty version of being kidnapped by ... something not human

You know, right now I'd walk straight into any otherworldly little trap, so let's follow that thought for a bit. You're stressed, you feel like you're absolutely drowning in responsibilities, work, a million deadlines - so, so sleep-deprived and mentally exhausted that your judgment softens, your senses dull, your mind grows hazy. And while it will pass (all things eventually pass, don’t they?) and you’ll be fine some weeks, months from now on - the way through it all is grueling and hard, mundane and repititive. Wouldn’t you be fortunate to catch the eye of someone out there? Someone, something who thinks you’re quite charming; soft and human and almost clumsy in the way you putter about and oh, you’re so weak. Some beautiful stranger who whisks you away, to somewhere so odd you think you’re dreaming at first. It’s so surreal, you have to be asleep, right? And how harrowing it has to be to wake up for the first time, realizing that you made a stupid mistake some weeks ago, something you can’t even quite remember. Maybe the stranger caught you sometime during the dawn when you were half asleep- maybe they got you when you wandered too far into the forest on one of your nightly walks- it doesn’t matter, really, does it? Your head feels as sticky as cotton candy and heavier than a brick, and they keep you in a bed of soft linen and way too many pillows, and fuck you so full you can’t make out left from right- You can’t fight against them, and your rational thought is merely scratching at the door to your consciousness - but that underlying dread mixed with too-sweet dreams and kisses has to be terrible. Every passing day turns sweet to sour and when your stomach swells you finally manage to break away from the spell, if only to vomit out the food the stranger has stuffed you with... I feel like they’d basically keep you drugged and pliant for all eternity- with you just being able to feel that foreboding sense of ‘something is fundamentally wrong’ but not able to formulate a single clear thought. Any time you manage to free yourself from their influence, you’re immediately pulled back into it; and the memory erased. I can see them not even really talking to you - you’re like a sweet little pet to them, stupid and only there for what you can provide for them. Kept happy and dumb and pregnant, doomed to be a drooling broodmare...

#ask #anon #yandere teratophilia #tw.monsterfucking #tw.noncon #tw.pregnancy #sorry i am bone tired and i let myself run away with my own state rn #i can barely see rn you just gave me something to thinkm about™#*think #have you ever uh....#had a spicy dream so soft but also so hot it felt otherworldly??#like the sheer need drives you up the wall??#that's what i feel like getting fcked by a fae would feel like lol #and i mean... being drgged up and kept like that... not too bad right?#def better than taxes lol

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nexusnyx · 1 year

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OMG can I request a shuri x reader where reader gets hurt but refuses to worry shuri with it until one day it just gets unbearable. Idk I just nee dthe fluff fr

→ soft and sweet

⚠️ Mentions violence and injuries, no spoilers. | 🏷️Hurt/comfort, fluff. [2.9k]

"Should you be back in my lab so soon?"

Her voice makes everything still, and not even Ayo's eyes so firmly set on you matter. Every muscle in your body is frozen, as always.

"Your majesty," you nod, and watch as Shuri makes her way inside. "I'm sorry. I know you said don't be back so soon—"

"And yet, here you are," Shuri interrupts. In under five seconds inside the room, her presence has commanded everything—from your prognosis projected from your beads into thin air, to the aura of command that so far, belonged to Okoye sitting in the corner with her legs crossed. "What was it this time?"

"Reckless abandon and, what I suspect, the desire to see a certain—" Okoye starts, only to be interrupted by you.

"Improvements." Your heart rate betrays you in the back, but Shuri's eyes are on you. "Ayo mentioned improvements. I'm always curious."

"You don't have to be curious and injured to come here," Shuri shrugs. "You're the youngest Dora in training Okoye's ever recruited. I trust you not to break things or touch anything in the lab you shouldn't."

It's not the things I'm worried about.

"Let's take a look at you." Shuri's words make you nod, solemn and tongue-tied.

As straightforward as ever. Ayo clears her throat, and says, "As I was saying, Your Highness, our dear sunshine over there thinks she's still in the ballrooms sometimes."

"Ah," Okoye smacks her teeth. "You're just upset she injured herself after managing that move."

Ayo scoffs, turning around with her mouth wide open. "She almost stabbed Aneka."

"Almost being the keyword," Okoye retorts, sending you a smile that turns sour in two seconds. With her eyes set on you, her eyebrows pierce together. "Never do that again without telling me first that you'll be trying your... dance-y moves."

"Ah. So that's what it was?" Shuri asks, and you have to blink away from her eyes to be able to answer.

"Just trying out new things," you answer.

"Your 'new thing' made you dislocate your shoulder, clavicle and—Bast, how are you just sitting there?" she turns around sharply to the other Dora in the room. "How is she not knocked out in pain?"

"Drugged," both of them answer at the same time.

Your nod comes a beat too slow, and Shuri registers as she turns back to you.

"Yup." They definitely gave you something on the way in. "I am a-okay."

For the first time ever, you hear it.

Shuri laughs.

The sound freezes you again—it spells all the cells in your body, caught under an immediate trance. You only heard it before a couple of times, under different circumstances.

Under different times.

Times when Shuri was still Princess, and not Panther. Times when she had witty remarks, cheeky smiles, and middle fingers to offer to anyone willing and asking for it.

Bygones; or so you thought.

A quick, military sweep of the room — a surprising feat for your altered mind — shows you're not the only one surprised by the sudden burst of laughter.

Only two seconds of it, but the first one is enough to almost shock you back into sobriety, and the second has enough room for your heart to break. Ayo and Okoye share a look, and the amount of sadness that pours between pokes between your ribs.

Then, the laugh ends, and the moment was unfortunately too short for you to enjoy it.

"A-okay," Shuri mutters, chuckling. "You sounded like Ross for a second."

"The coloziner?" you shriek.

Shuri smiles at you, and damn it—"The one and only," she replies with a smirk. Her expert hand sends all your files flying, and she gestures for someone outside the room's glass walls. "I'm glad you're under medication already, 'cause I'm pretty sure this is about to hurt."

"Doras feel no pain," Okoye sneers.

Both you and Ayo nod in agreement. "No pain."

"Really?" One of Shuri's eyebrows goes up. "So if I do this—," she pokes the tip of her finger right against your clavicle and smiles when you wince. "Ah. I thought you felt no pain?" the sarcasm drips from her just like her damn clothes.

Why does she always look so good? "That was mean," you whisper. No whine comes out of you, because Okoye trained you better than that.

Shuri's smile widens as the doctor walks in, and she stands still in front of you for a moment. "Just a reminder that you're still human." Something else trembles beneath the surface of her words, and it compels you to look into her eyes. "One about to be part of the most well-trained and skilled army in the world, but a human, nonetheless. Please be more careful."

Please. The knot that grows in your throat out of nowhere is hard to swallow. "I will, my Queen."

"I saw you here not two weeks ago," she goes on. You can feel the doctor's hands starting to roam on your arms, and Ayo excuses herself with a quick 'we'll wait outside for you'. "I meant what I said. If you want to look at designs, just drop by."

"And bother you while you work?" you scoff in laughter. "I wouldn't dare to assume my time's that precious."

"Ouch," the thump of Shuri hitting both hands against her chest makes you look up—her hands placed over where her heart is, and her face set in a theatrical look of pain makes you feel so stupid and gone. You wanted her to smile like that all the time, preferably because of something you did or said. "And here I was, thinking my spar companion was at least a friend."

A friend.

You bite down on the cry of pain when the Doctor puts something back into place, and offer Shuri the best smile you can at the moment. "I was here thinking I was just the miserable, unlucky girl who Okoye wanted you to have as a punching bag."

Shuri cackles again. "Right. The prodigal punching bag who's been keeping me on my toes outside the suit, you mean?"

The lessons — twice a week, by the riverside, at dusk — are somewhat of a dream.

"How can I keep you on your toes if I don't end up here every now and then?" you gesture with your head around the lab, and Shuri's mirth is gone from her eyes.

"You're more creative than this," her tone is scolding. "Aneka took it easy on you. I don't want to see you coming back worse because you tried something on Ayo and she severed something that might never be replaced."

You nod at that. "I'll be more careful, your Highness."

Shuri opens and closes her mouth once, then nods at you. Whatever she wanted to say is left aside as she nods towards Vance, then leaves the room with Griot speaking on her shoulder.

You'll see her in two days.

It'll twist your insides as much as it does every time.

"Girl," Dr. Vance snorts, and you groan.

"Shut up."

"Good Bast, Shuri is blind."

The promise works, if only for a little while.

It's hard not hurting yourself when life does that by itself, so easily, and so often, too. It's hard to stay away from something that's a part of your road, and unfortunately for you and everyone around, bruises and aches were a part of you for as long as you were alive.

For a few weeks, the purples on your bodies and the grunts that come out of you come, for the most part, from your training sessions with her.

Black Panther.

Shuri is as deadly without the suit nowadays as she is with it, but as a woman of science, her training was nowhere as intense as a warrior.

You were training for six years before she took the mantle, and now, graduation is on the horizon.

"Eyes forward," Shuri whispers, right before she attacks.

The glint of purple and black paints your skies too, because of her.

It's so hard to focus when she smiles.

'Do not think I haven't noticed how poor your focus is when she's on-field, child.' Okoye, once reinstated as General, took you back under her personal wing. 'If that goes on, you will never graduate.'

It works, the slap on the face.

Fighting Shuri becomes easier once it's resignified to fighting for her, and the bruises come less often.

There's your graduation.

A whole new line of Dora Milajes—and you're one of the sixteen.

Shuri dances on the stones of the waterfall, and you think happiness is the only thing that looks more fitting than the mantle on her.

"Now I'll never see you around my lab again," Shuri jokes in the middle of the celebration party.

She found you with a drink in hand talking quietly with Nakia in a corner, speaking in hushed tones about trips around the world if you ever managed to take a vacation, and Nakie excused herself as soon as Shuri arrived.

It made you feel suffocated.

She had on traditional fighting clothes, and even the smooth, cold drink was going down in hard gulps. "Don't worry, I'll find a way."

"Yeah, it's called taking my invitation."

"I've been there," you argue with her, trying to fight a smile. "I went to see the new suits. And the improvements to the spear."

Shuri shakes her head. "Okoye's request."

"I went there two weeks ago to pick up the gadgets and stayed for hours. I'm pretty sure I got in the way of your work and made you arrive late for a UN meeting."

Shuri smiles as she shakes her head again. "The pick up was Ayo taking advantage of you. The meeting—," she tilts her neck. "I didn't want to go anyway. You just gave me a good excuse to show up fashionably late."

"I heard you made a scene."

"It's a thing we Wakandas too once outside our nation. You'll find out soon enough," she leans against the counter, and you almost take a step back because your brain alarms go off—

too close, too pretty, she smells so good, oh Bast please send me a light and I'll do all my morning prayers, I swear—

"'m not sure the General's keen on letting any of us new girls go out any time soon."

"I'll ask for my friend to be my escort as a personal favor, how about that?" Shuri wiggles one eyebrow.

Cool, you think. "I think you're above playing favorites," you chuckle.

"Then you don't know me very well," she whispers, smile turning into a grin. "See? That's why I'm bringing you along."

"We'll see about that, your Highness."

Being hurt is part of the job, but not a part Shuri is fond of, you discover.

Each time you shrug off the shrapnels of savages attacking your nation or the swollen bumps around your body, her face loses every inch of that easiness it had.

Shuri demands you to slow it down, to take it easier, to—"stop jumping head first in front of things! Are you out of your mind? You're not a human shield!"

To which Okoye fights back with, "My Queen, with all due respect, that is exactly our duty. To you, and to Wakanda. We are your defense. She was just doing her job this time and, doing it well, may I add."

"Her spear's not a shield, General. Something that, may I remind you, all of you have in your uniforms. Shields! So she doesn't end up like this!"

It's only when she raises her voice that you notice.

Shuri's chest panting.

"General—," you start, but as always, Okoye's a step ahead.

"Your Highness," her tone is gentle. It's the same tone you've heard her speaking with the kids, and sometimes, you. "I'll be back in an hour to check on her and my other two girls. And then we'll discuss the attack. Is that ok?"

"It is. You may go, General," Shuri nods to her.

And then, you two are alone.

And it hits you. "Panther," you whisper.

Shuri shakes her head, pacing around the room. "I'm thinking, give me a second." You doubt a single thought could be formed after the day you two had, but if one person in the world could have them, it'd be her. "It has the be something I'm missing—a breach, a—a bug. Something."

You see the way she rubs her hands together and try again. "Shuri."

After more than a year of working closely together, it's one of the few times you've used her name, and it works the same as the others:

Everything else stops, and Shuri turns to you.

Her posture relaxes as if someone pulled a pin.

"I'm sorry," you tell her. She's still in her Panther suit, and it's all you can get out. The lab is pitch black dark except for the glimmer of the machines that are turned on, and as she steps closer, you hear the stupid announcement of your vitals monitor alerting of your heartbeat rising, and shit.

Shit, shit, shit.

As blind as she can be, Shuri is not deaf.

"Why are you sorry?" she asks.

The sounds grow louder because she only stops when her legs touch the side of the bed, and you have nowhere to hide your nervousness. "I told you I'd be more careful and..."

"You weren't."

"No," you look away from the sewing pattern of the suit and try to find a thought that doesn't involve the way you can still feel the air humming around her. "And you seem... worried."

"Seem?"

It's like a hiss.

You look back at her, and Shuri runs one of her hands over her face.

She exhales loudly, and when her eyes find yours, your mouth runs dry.

"You jumped," she whispers at you—out loud, like a confession. As if you weren't there, and she somehow can't believe that. "Right in front of me."

You did, and you would again, and she knows that. You nod, unsure of what to answer, if you even could answer. Unsure if you would be able to no matter how much you wished to.

"Your eyes were on that thing, and I know you heard the drop, but..." there was no time for her to reach it. "I had to," you finish, and the little smile that forms on your face seems to do it for her.

Something snaps inside Shuri because her whole face loses its composure, and both of her hands come up to cup your face, alerting to what must be the entire building that you're on the cliff, hanging over and looking down at a heart attack.

"Never. Do that. Again." Her palms are sweaty on your cheeks. When she speaks, Shuri's bottom lip trembles, and all you can think is—

Oh.

I'm blind too.

"I have to," you repeat a little dumbly.

Shuri laughs, right in your face. It sounds like disbelief, and her hands grip you tighter, and you have to bite back a whine at how much you enjoy the force of that hold. "You're going to kill me if you do that again. Did you know that? Griot informed me. Griot said, 'My Queen, I'm obliged to inform that your heart has reached concerning rates', as if I didn't fucking know, as if—as if—," her chest moves up and down faster again, and you do something you never thought you'd have the guts to—

You hold her back.

It's surreal to feel the texture of the suit underneath your hands, but what's even crazier is the notion that she's under it.

"Breathe," you whisper to her.

"I can't—" she exhales shakily, and you plunge forward with your gut.

When her hands cupped your face, you tuned out everything around. The embarrassing heart rate, the machine noises; anything not Shuri didn't matter, and when her breathing comes out in raggedy tries, your lips reach forward before you realize what it is you're doing.

When you do realize it, both of you are caught under it.

It's a spell, you think.

Attraction. Love.

It's white noise and being submerged underwater all the same time—it's the feeling of her soft, delicate lips on yours, and the way you can feel her pulling in a deep breath before she whispers, "Bast..." and leans forward again.

Whatever it is that keeps you tied to her, you embrace it. Magnetism, gravity, electricity—it must be a little bit of each, all thrown into the bowl like the best recipe in the world, and the result is there,

on her lips, and the taste of her kiss.

Bast, indeed.

You'll never let go of the bruises if this is where they land you in.

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#usernexusnyx #shuri x y/n #shuri x you #shuri x reader #shuri black panther #shuri fluff #shuri imagine #shuri fic #princess shuri #shuri one shot #shuri x black!reader #shuri smut

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rubberonmyduck · 2 months

Text

Lust's Sexiest Couple (Part I)

[Prologue] [I] [II] [III] AO3 Link

Weakened angelic powers and one mishap with a rogue exorcist later, Lucifer is injured. As the looming threat of war with Heaven hangs above his head, and the delay of getting a healing spell from Stolas, Lucifer is forced to make a decision. New to the Pride Ring, you land yourself a job at I.M.P.-- the Immediate Murder Professionals. Desperate to make some money during a client-low, Blitz agrees to contract out a bodyguard for Lucifer Morningstar, the King of Hell. The catch? You're the one Blitz picks for the job.

Curse Stolas for being right– curse him for always being right!

Lucifer paced across the lobby, his sour mood reflected in how his face scrunched up, and how his heels hit the tiles exceptionally hard. It was almost as if he were expelling some angelic energy from him, warning those around him to stay clear. Not even the Radio Demon had bothered to tease the man this morning.

Oh, how Lucifer wished he could call this whole ridiculous plan off. A bodyguard? How pathetic! The news sites were sure to drag him once they caught wind of this, just like how they did when she decided to leave. Dramatically, might one add! Lucifer glanced at the golden ring on his finger. Yet he was too much of a pussy to take it off. Lucifer let out a huff, shaking his head.

He had the whole trip downward to think of some lie to conjure up. Sure the Sins– most of them– would be understanding of Lucifer’s predicament, but he couldn’t say the same for anyone else. Not that he cared about a sinner’s opinions on him, it just hurt his pride a little bit.

Okay, maybe he cared.

Charlie, bless her soul, had been nagging Lucifer all week about this new arrangement. She was concerned, and she wanted nothing more than for Lucifer to just stay at her hotel, letting Charlie keep an eye on her dad while he healed. She even offered to accompany him on his ventures downward, but Lucifer stood firm in his decision, no matter how much he hated it. He’d feel like a terrible dad bringing destruction to Charlie’s dream. To quell her worries, he offered to introduce the imp before he left. Meanwhile, Lucifer planned to stay back at the barron mansion he called home– if anyone attempted anything at the king, they’d be swiftly taken out by the demonic security he placed a long while prior.

“Do you at least know who it’ll be?” Charlie’s voice knocked Lucifer out of his thoughts, prompting him to look over at his daughter who was standing a few feet away, one of her hands resting on the wall.

“The boss, uhm– bits or something– informed me yesterday.” Lucifer wracked his brain for the name, coming up short. He couldn’t even remember it– Lucifer fished out his phone, tapping around to try and open up his previous conversation with Blitz. Just as he was about to speak again, there was a knock at the door. Lucifer froze.

Charlie’s attention went to the door, the girl quickly rushing over to greet whoever stumbled upon the hotel. As she opened it, she was greeted with the sight of a shorter imp.

“Good morning, Princess Charlotte!” You set your bag down and gave the woman in front of you a slight bow. The pictures didn’t do her justice, you noticed.

Charlie flashed you a grin, quicking moving forward to grasp your hands in her own, shaking it loosely but quickly. “Please! Call me Charlie!” She was quick to inquire your own name, complimenting the tactical outfit you had on. After responding to her, you noticed the king come into view. You gave him a bow, much like the one you gave Charlie.

“Your Majesty.”

“I informed your boss you’ll be out of the office for a few days,” he started, stepping past Charlie and out of the hotel, motioning for you to follow him. “You’ll be accompanying me to the Lust Ring.”

You picked your bag back up, rushing to get back to Lucifer before the two of you halted, hearing Charlie call out to her dad.

“Dad, wait!”

Lucifer turned his head, his body twisted just enough to see her. She rushed over, giving him a tight, side hug. Lucifer returned the hug.

“Stay safe! Bye!” Lucifer grinned at his daughter.

“Goodbye, Charlie.”

The sight was cute, and despite the pure awkwardness that came with standing only a foot away from the interaction, you couldn’t help but smile. Charlie rushed back into her hotel, waving at her dad once more before closing the door. Charlie had a very bubbly personality, and you couldn’t help but hope you’d see her again sometime.

Your attention turned onto Lucifer, who held a derpy smile as he stared back at the building. Somehow, the sight made you feel a bit queasy “So,” you started, distracting yourself from the feeling as you mentally ticked off a box list in your head.

“The bodyguard isn’t for your daughter?”

Lucifer raised an eyebrow at you, his face falling to a more neutral, unreadable position. The queasiness you previously felt drifted away as he did so. “No.”

“It’s for you.” You pressed on. You remembered the alleyway once again, now almost completely certain it was from that incident you witnessed, but you knew you couldn’t say anything about it unless Lucifer himself told you. You weren’t that dumb. But a part of you wondered if there was more to this than that golden blood you saw that night.

“I can’t exactly leave the Pride Ring with a target on my back.”

“But why?”

Lucifer simply ignored you.

You held your bag close to your body as you stood next to Lucifer, your legs burning from having to keep up with the man’s long strides. Between the annoyance of how fast he walked and how many terrible shortcuts he insisted on taking the two of you, you still noticed how all the other sinners seemed to part whenever Lucifer came into view. You were certain it was more out of fear than respect, though, knowing how a good portion of the people down here in the Pride Ring were terrible.

A few days ago, you took it upon yourself to research a little more about Lucifer. Despite his status as a Sin and the Ruler of Hell, you knew little about him. In fact, you knew more about that tacky clown, Mammon, than King Lucifer. Regardless, you quickly learned a few key ideas about him.

People did not respect Lucifer. Like at all. Sinners, Hellborn, even hellhounds and imps all thought the man was an absolute joke when it came to running this wretched place. Part of you didn’t blame him though, but you could see the anger the denizens had. He barely made any appearances in Pride, and even few in any of the other Rings– no wonder you barely knew who he was at first. Apparently the only thing he did for his people in the recent years was allowing a yearly extermination to happen in exchange for his family’s and Hellborn’s safety. What a guy.

Speaking of exterminations, there had been one only weeks prior to your occupation of the Pride Ring. You remembered Blitz mentioning it once or twice, where he would quickly follow up with how it didn’t affect them anyways, so there was no need to worry. But he did advise you to make living arrangements elsewhere that day. You found a few news articles on it, and one of the videos that came up was of the King himself. He looked more demonic, a pair of crimson horns jutting out his head, his eyes a shade of red and a whole bunch of eyes that honestly creeped you out. Sinners seemed to have a similar reaction, outright stating their newfound fear of the man. Well, most of them did anyways– some of the reactions were rather horny.

Regardless, the whole situation is how you landed yourself in this exact moment, first in line to the hellevator down to Lust. In fact, you noticed the original departure schedule had changed to fit Lucifer’s needs the moment you two walked into the building. Convenient.

At the sound of a ding, the elevator doors opened, revealing a similar golden pattern the rest of the building had. As the two of you stepped into the empty elevator– that no one else dared to even try and get in,” Lucifer spoke to you once more.

“I have a meeting with Asmodeus. I couldn’t find anyone willing to drive us there,“ Lucifer rolled his eyes, “and I don’t suppose you know how to drive?”

Despite being slightly insulted by his assumptions, you shook your head. He was right, afterwall. The doors closed. You felt the tiny compartment shift, starting its descent.

“Then we’ll walk.”

“How far exactly?” You set your bag down on the ground, leaning down slightly to open it and dig through. You pulled out a tiny pistol.

“I have this for a short, five minute walk, but,” you set the gun next to your bag, reaching in with both hands to pull out another weapon, similar to the first but much bigger. You pointed the barrel to the sky. “I also have a bigger version should it be longer.” Lucifer stared at you, the spot where his nose would be scrunching up.

You bit your lip at the look, your face slightly heating up. “Do you prefer knives?” You suggested, searching through the bag yet again. “I think Millie gave me some–”

Lucifer reached out, placing his hand on your arm and gently pulling it out of the bag.

“It’s– It’s a ten minute walk,” He stuttered, concern laced into the words he spoke, “The small gun will be fine.”

You shrugged, giving him a grin. “If you insist, Your Majesty.”

The elevator dinged once again, a robotic voice coming out a shitty speaker to announce their arrival at the Lust Ring. You quickly shoved your weapons back in your bag, opting to place your pistol in one of your pockets. The doors opened slowly, revealing a lobby similar to the once in Pride. This one, while still decorated with subtle apple and snake motifs, had blue accents replacing the shimmering gold you saw before. The place was filled as much as the one above was, but it seemed to have more succubus than regular imps.

Lucifer led you out of the building. The first thing you noticed as you walked outside was how blue everything else was. Even the sky! It made sense the more you thought about it– Greed was similar, but its whole get-up was the color green. Hell, the Pride Ring had its own red theme going on too. Though the Lust Ring seemed much cleaner than both the Greed and Pride Rings. You noticed the shift in Lucifer’s demeanor, his shoulders relaxing and his face falling into a more chilled expression. Perhaps he enjoyed the cleanliness as much as you did.

You maneuvered yourself to the King's left side, pulling your pistol back out of your pocket. “I’ll take the alleyway,” you announced.

This way, if anybody were to attempt something in a less than visible spot, you had easier access to them. Lucifer seemed to catch on, giving a nod and started his walk on your right without complaint.

#hazbin hotel lucifer morningstar #hazbin hotel #helluva boss #hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer morningstar #lucifer morningstar x reader #hazbin hotel lucifer x reader #immediate bodyguard professionals

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shownusgfayoooo · 6 months

Text

A Potions Mishap

Pairing: Seonghwa x f!Y/N

Tropes: Hogwarts au, Slytherin!Hwa, Ravenclaw!reader, hurt/comfort, fluff, mutual pining

T/W: injury with a knife, feeling dizzy/sick, f word

Words: ~4k

my masterlist

You normally enjoy Potions class, you really do. But, today, the thought of spending the whole afternoon in the dungeons was filling you with a sense of tediousness and dread. Not only was it a perfect summer day- one that you couldn’t even enjoy because of double potions, but it was also exam season- so, even if you hadn’t had class blocking up the whole day, then studying for your N.E.W.T.’s was enough to ruin anyone’s mood. Add a granola bar for every meal for the past two weeks and barely four hours of sleep from the night before, and the equation spelled a truly annoying and exhausting end to your school day.

Noticing the sour look on your face, your friend and fellow Ravenclaw housemate, Hongjoong waved his fork in front of your face. “Earth to Y/N.”

You wrinkled your nose at him. “Whaaaaat?”

“Have you seen the time? We have class in 5 minutes, and – did you seriously not eat anything, again?”

You blinked down at your where your plate should be. Instead, you saw your Potions text, riddled with notes in the margins and covered in pink highlights. To the side sat your plate of food, untouched.

“Ah, shit.”

Hongjoong began to open his mouth to lecture you before you cut him off, “Just save it- as if you haven’t forgotten to eat because you also got caught up in some project at the table!”

He quickly closed his mouth and gave you a stern smile instead. “At least I don’t do it every day. From tomorrow onwards, if you don’t eat, I will force feed you, I swear.”

You stuck your tongue out at him and finally pulled your sandwich towards you. Still, you only managed a few bites before it was time to go.

You sighed as you walked down the stairs. You were really not looking forward to – before you could even finish the thought, you were attacked from behind. Gasping, you almost lost your balance down the last step, but the perpetrators steadied you. You shot a look of annoyance over both your shoulders at the two banes of your existence.

“Aw, noona. What’s got you sighing like that?” San asked.

“Or should we ask- whoooo?” Wooyoung wagged his eyebrows at you.

You huffed as you pushed them both off. “As if. Try to kill me again, and I’ll hex you so bad you won’t be able to sit your exams, I mean it.”

“Oh, noona. Please hex me. PLEASE. I really don’t wannaa take these fucking N.E.W.T.s.” Mingi added.

You pushed ahead of the three Gryffindor idiots, hiding your smile. “Why do I even bother?”

A low chuckle reached your ears. “I ask myself the same question every day, Y/N.”

Your heart skipped a beat, but you managed to keep your features cool as you turned your head up to Seonghwa who was holding the door to the classroom open for you and the guys. You managed to say hello and thank him before the blush could really bloom on your cheeks and across your nose.

Hongjoong wagged his eyebrows at the look on your face as he took his usual spot next to you at the worktable. He was the only one who knew of your crush on the Slytherin.

It had all started in 6th year. Up until then, Potions had always been taught to you with the Hufflepuffs. As such, you, and Hongjoong for that matter, had never had this class with the Gryffindors or the Slytherins. However, at the N.E.W.T. level, there were barely enough students to fill a single classroom. This is when you first came across Seonghwa in a classroom setting. Even though you were friends with his “band of pirates” as they liked to call themselves, you had never seen or interacted with Seonghwa outside of the group. Here in class, San and Wooyoung were paired up at a workstation, as they had been their whole Hogwarts career, and the same was true for you and Hongjoong. Though Mingi and Seonghwa were from Gyrffindor and Slytherin, respectively, they had never been partners before 6th year. Even though they had always been friends, House always came first. Even you had always paired with Hongjoong, even though you were both close with Yunho who was a Hufflepuff who you had shared Potions with for 5 years.

“I’m telling you, Y/N. We gotta glamour your face or something, you’re as red as a tomato.”

You looked at Joong in horror as your hands came up to cover your cheeks. “Is it really?”

It was at that moment that Seonghwa reached his table and took his seat in front of you two. “Everything alright?” He looked between the two of you.

“Yes, of course!” You laughed awkwardly as you hit Hongjoong on the arm. It sounded a bit too high even to your ears.

Seonghwa’s smile was stiff on his face as he nodded and took his seat, just as your professor started the class.

“Alright class. New orders from above. Today, we are going to be striving towards inter-house unity!”

As the class gave each other unsure looks, the false cheery smile slipped off Professor Nott’s face. “I know it’s annoying guys, but please find a partner from a House that is not yours. And before any of you try to be sneaky- yes, I’m looking at you Mingi- if you already have a partner from a different house, then find a new one! We’re going to be working on the Shrinking Solution today, and you all know that needs two hands for the chopping and stirring that needs to happen at the same time.” The class groaned. “Do not kill me; it was not my idea,” he held up his hands. “Why the Headmaster decides at the very last minute of your academic career to shake things up; I’ll never understand,” he muttered under his breath, not quite successfully.

You stood from your spot with your bookbag, unsure of where to turn. But, before you could even take a breath, Mingi came around your corner of the table, jostling you, and wrapped his arms around Hongjoong. “Dibs!” The Ravenclaw was quick to shrug out of it and yell and start wagging a finger at him, but Mingi just stuck his tongue out at San and Wooyoung across the aisle who were throwing their arms up in the air and giving him the finger.

In the chaos, Y/N didn’t see Seongwa scowl at Mingi as she steadied her balance yet again.

You chuckled and started to make you way over to the Gryffindors you were most comfortable with, before San and Wooyoung quickly and efficiently swapped partners with the Slytherin boys that always sat in front of them, Changbin and Leeknow.

You frowned and quickly let your eyes dart around the whole classroom. Everyone was paired up, except for Seonghwa. He sat calmly at his spot, twirling a quill between his long fingers, almost as if he was waiting for you.

He sensed your gaze and looked up at your from under his long lashes.

“Wanna be my mine?”

Even though you were quick to surmise the true meaning of his not-so-innocuous question, you couldn’t help your eyes from widening as your heart heard a different meaning.

“S-sure, I’ll be your partner.” You took Mingi’s vacated seat quickly and avoided his gaze.

As the class settled, Professor Nott started his brief lecture on the potion. Your knee bounced under the table. You were so aware of every line of Seonghwa’s body, just inches from yours. Did you and Hongjoong sit this close, also? You had truly never noticed. The space between you and the Slytherin felt so heavy with static. Were you moving too much? You stopped shaking your leg, but that lasted two seconds, before your fingers started drumming against the desk.

Seonghwa suddenly leaned forward from his slouched position to place his forearms on the table next to where yours were. His fingers covered the movement of yours.

Your breath caught in your throat, but you kept your eyes on the board, as you felt him lean his head towards yours.

“If you’re so nervous about this potion, Y/N, don’t worry, I’m the top of this class. I’ve got you.” His whisper was a tickle against your ear.

Was it just you being delusional or did all his words have double meanings? You smirked back even as your heat raced in your chest at both his proximity and his teasing words.

You met his eyes briefly to retort back. “Actually, you’ll find that your tied for that position, with me. So, maybe it is I that will be carrying you.”

He smiled back, and your eyes caught in a moment that lasted what seemed like forever, before it was broken by the sound of scraping chairs.

You both blinked before also standing to start your potion. Pink dusted both student’s cheeks, unbeknownst to the other.

“Oh also, class! I know you know this but be careful when you’re chopping the cowbane. Even the juice on your knife is very poisonous blah blah, get to it!” You smiled at Professor T’s cavalier attitude, even though you knew he cared very deeply for his students and educating every generation of students he could be available to.

You and Seonghwa quickly settled into an efficient routine. It was almost like you could read each other’s minds; without even speaking, you both divvied up the tasks in a way that made sense to you. He had already chopped the shrivelfigs and added their juice to the cauldron, while you intuitively prepared the next steps by mincing the daisy root and preparing the hairy caterpillars as he heated the cauldron gently.

You were surprised, as you had never had such chemistry with another Potions partner before. You always had a hard time doing group projects, because you thought you could just do better on your own and were often irritated at having to go at someone else’s slower pace. You and Hongjoong had always worked well together, with the minor bumps caused by his temper tantrums and your passive aggressiveness, but you had thought that he was the best a partner could ever be. As you watched Seonghwa vigorously stir the potion, a step you always hated because your arm always got tired, you realized you couldn’t have been more wrong. You both naturally gravitated towards the different aspects of the potion that you favored and preferred. It was honestly euphoric to be working together like this, and the academic in you was singing with joy.

You were working on juicing the leeches when the heat of the room started getting to you. The many fires under the cauldrons made it so that the dungeons were sweltering. Somewhere in the room, Wooyoung started screaming that he had accidentally added rose petals instead of daisy root, and the whole class groaned because any first year knows that combining rose to blood from anything made for the most disgusting smell. The fumes started to make you dizzy, and you were suddenly regretting only eating two bites of a sandwich.

Seonghwa paused in his shaking of the rat spleen you had just handed over, barely a tremble to your hand. “Are you okay, Y/N?”

You blinked at him, surprised. “Yes..?”

His eyes looked into yours deeply. You were not used to someone noticing when things were barely off with you. This little bit of dizziness was nothing.

“If you’re sure.” He didn’t look too convinced as he turned to stir the cauldron clockwise.

As you started working on the cowbane, these thoughts took another turn. Not only was he the best partner you had ever had, but he was also so caring and asked after your wellbeing! Your crush reared its big head before you could stifle it down.

You were carefully slicing the second piece of cowbane to render more liquid- the first had not yielded enough for the potion. All of a sudden, the dizziness came back in full force and your vision swam before your eyes. The knife missed its mark and instead imbedded in your thumb. You blinked and swayed.

“Y/N!”

A hand wrapped around your left wrist, while another took the knife out of your right hand.

“Sorry, Seonghwa.” You had ruined the potion. He had stopped stirring because of you.

Along with the dizziness came a new feeling. Your body felt so floaty. Everything was too bright and too loud.

A voice swam in from far away.

“I think the knife had some juice on it, Professor, and she cut herself pretty deep. I’ve been holding pressure, but…”

“No, you did the exact right thing, Seonghwa. Don’t worry; she’ll be okay. We just need to get her to Madame Patil in the hospital wing, and the antivenom will fix her right up.”

There was the sound of a bomb exploding.

“I’ll go take care of San’s potion- he clearly added the rat spleen incorrectly, seeing as it misfired. Are you ok to take Y/N up by yourself?”

“Yes, sir.”

Then, an arm wrapped around your waist to pull you up from your chair. His other arm took yours over his shoulder as he began to take you out of the classroom.

“Seonghwaaa.”

“Y/n, just hang on, ok? We’re going to the Hospital Wing.” He looked down at you.

“You’re too tall.”

He looked down at you, confused, but did not stop his hurried rush across the corridor to the stairs. “Excuse me?”

“My arm hurts at this angle.” Why were words coming out so readily right now? Was it the cowbane?

He brought you both to a standstill. “Um, yea, it’s one of the effects of cowbane poisoning. Sorry, I didn’t realize it was uncomfortable.” You could barely feel alarm that there was no filter between your brain and your mouth through the haziness that was descending over your whole body.

He looked unsurely up the stairs and back at you twice before his face set in determination.

“Ok, Y/N, I’m going to have to carry you.”

“No!” You stepped back shakily. You were definitely too heavy. This was going to be so embarrassing. But, also, it would feel so good probably. To be in his strong Chaser arms. Oh my god. Wait, he could hear everything. This is so embarrassing.

He smiled privately to himself before pulling you closer. “I hate to do this without your consent, but technically, you are not sound of mind and actively have a poison in your system, and Professor told me to get you there as fast as possible, so-”

And with that, he swung you up in your arms, like you weighed nothing and started off up the stairs.

The sudden change of position set your stomach rolling and the dizziness came back with doubled force. You whimpered and burrowed your head further into his neck, forgetting to fight him for manhandling you.

“I don’t feel so good.”

Seonghwa glanced worriedly down at your face which was turning an unhealthy-looking shade of green. “We’re almost there, love. Just hang on. I’m getting you there.”

You whimpered and tried to focus on breathing in and out slowly. Still, even though you were feeling so sick, the comfort and exhilaration of being so close to Seonghwa was not lost on you. If you threw up on Seonghwa right now, you were gonna kill yourself.

“Please don’t. I’d miss you too much.”

“Ugh, please stop reading my mind,” you managed to say between clenched teeth.

He chuckled quietly before depositing you softly onto a bed. Oh, a bed? Was it his bed? What was he going to do? What did you want him to do? Before your brain could come up with incriminating ideas to answer that question, a soft voice interrupted you.

“Oh, thank Salazar she’s conscious.”

“Um, Ms. Y/N, you are in the Hospital Wing.” There was a laughing lilt to her voice before it turned serious. “Mr. Seonghwa told me of the situation that happened in the Potions class, and I have just administered the antidote. It takes effect in 15 minutes, so just try hang on a little bit longer as it clears out the poison in your system. I also administered an anti-emetic, so just breathe in and out so you don’t throw up the antidote, or we’ll have to start all over and you will just feel worse as the cowbane spreads further. Just these 15 minutes, Y/N, and after that you should start to feel better within the hour. I’ll go whip up a hydration potion, also, because your basic diagnostic charm did not look good, young lady.”

You finally blinked open your eyes to see the high ceiling above you. Madame Patil was not wrong in taking extra measures to make sure you didn’t throw up. You felt like a ragdoll thrown at sea. The nausea was overwhelming, and the panic that it was causing wasn’t helping either. Before you could start hyperventilating in full, a hand grabbed yours.

You turned your head to where Seonghwa sat in the chair next to your bed.

“Sh, just focus on me.” He inhaled exaggeratedly and raised his eyebrows at you to follow.

You clamped down your jaw harder and mimicked him. It helped a fraction. Then, the next breath came easier. As did the next.

You don’t know how much time passed, but looking at him helped you hold on and focus even when your whole body was thrown in turmoil. Staring into his eyes and seeing him stare back just as hard at your own anchored you and healed you in more than one way.

You didn’t even realize 15 minutes had passed and that the nausea had stopped until Healer Patil bustled back into the room, a pale pink potion in her hands.

“You did so well, Y/N,” she soothed quietly. At the nurturing tone and the knowledge that you could finally relax a little now, your eyes welled up.

“There, there- none of that. The worst has passed. Now, drink this.”

You wrinkled your nose and glanced at Seonghwa in dread. Rehydrating potions tasted so bad. When will the horrors end?

He shook his head at you sternly. “Hurry up, Y/N.”

“Ugh.” You downed the whole glass, and Healer Patil leaned you back softly onto the headboard.

“All done. Now, you just rest. I’m writing you a pass for classes tomorrow as well.”

“Oh, but-”

She looked down at you sternly. “No buts. I know it’s exam season, Y/N, but if you want to write those exams to the best of your ability, then you need to take care of your body as well as your mind. That means eating well, sleeping enough, and resting when you need to. Your body has just undergone a major ordeal even if it was healed so quickly, so give it the time it needs to recuperate.”

“Okay, okay. I promise I’m not that bad at taking care of myself!”

“Do you think my diagnostics lied to me? You haven’t eaten well in the past week and a half from the looks of it and are severely dehydrated! The poison wouldn’t have worked so fast if you weren’t already so compromised!”

At that, you had nothing to say. The older Ravenclaw nodded and sniffed as she walked away.

That left you alone with Seonghwa. As the haziness of your mind started to clear, the events of the past hour came back to you.

You snuck a glance at him. He looked the most worried you had ever seen him. Even more than when Yeosang had been upset- this sent any of the pirates into a spiral. More than when Jongho had to take a break from Quidditch because of a knee injury. More than any occasion before.

You looked back down at your hands. It was surprising to see the cut that had started this whole fiasco. Though it wasn’t that deep of a gash, it was pretty long, almost the whole length of your thumb. You winced as you prodded at it.

“Oh, here. Let me heal that for you.”

You looked up, surprised. “Oh, that’s okay. It’s not necessary.”

“Yes, it is.” He frowned at you. You were scared at his expression. He had never looked at you like that before. Just what exactly had you said in your state of delirium? What if he hated you now?

Before you could suggest that Healer Patil could do it, he took your hand gently in his and pulled it towards him. He softly muttered the incantation as he waved his wand over the cut, and the cooling rush of his magic tingled all the way up your arm. It was so intimate.

The heady feeling of happiness rushing through your chest at the feel of his magic coming up against yours halted in its tracks. What if he hated you now? His whole demeanor was so off. You had to clear the air.

“Listen, Seonghwa. I just wanted to say thank you. Thank you for noticing what happened immediately and getting me here so quickly and helping me… And, also, I wanted to say I’m sorry.” You were glaring at where your hands were twisting the sheets, so you missed his look of surprise. “I feel bad that you had to take care of me and that I took time out of your learning time, especially when we know that the Shrinking Solution is probably gonna be tested on the N.E.W.T.s, and I – I , whatever I said, I’m sorry. If you could just tell me what I said that offended you, I promise I probably didn’t mean it. Or if I did, then I can just explain-”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” His hands covered both of your own.

You looked up at him, your lip between your teeth.

“Who said I’m mad? I’m not. I promise.”

“But you- you looked so serious just now.”

“Well, yea! Of course, I am.” He ran his hands through his hair agitatedly. “But not because I’m mad that I had to take care of you or leave class because of you or any dumb reason you just came up with right now.” He smiled at you.

You laughed weakly. “O-oh.”

He looked up at the ceiling and muttered under his breath, “Fuck it.”

His hand came up to wrap around your own again. “Y/N, I was worried. Just now. That’s why I looked so serious. And who wouldn’t be when you hear that the girl you’re in love with pushes herself so hard that she is physically unwell? That a Healer who was trained for years had to spell that out so clearly for you?”

Where the poison couldn’t finish the job, his words just had- your heart was stopped. But that was surely impossible, because you could feel the telltale burn of blood across your cheeks. Could a girl still blush if her heart was stopped? You dropped your gaze to your hands again.

He chuckled quietly at the look on your face and leaned impossibly closer still.

“But, you don’t have to worry. I won’t look so serious again, because I figured out a solution to my problem.”

“What’s that?” Why was your voice so shaky?

“Since you won’t do it yourself, I’m just going to have to take care of you.”

You looked at his eyes, his impossibly soft brown eyes. And you saw reflected in them for the first time the same feelings you had harbored for him in your own the past two years.

You teared up at the sudden revelation, the tenderness with which he spoke, and the utterly gentle care you had received from him. And you just knew- this was it. This was it for the rest of your life. He smiled back at you just as brightly as you both were quiet in the reverence of such a moment shared between two souls.

The sudden bang of a door could be heard, not from the entry to the wing but from the Healer’s private office. It signaled that she had stepped out. Seonghwa tilted his head and then smirked mischievously at you before quickly climbing into the bed with you.

“Hey!” You laughed as you poked him in the side.

“Don’t act like this isn’t sooo comfortable for your poor healing-from-a-poison body right now.”

“Mm, I can’t deny that.” Now that you were not nauseous or dizzy or delirious anymore, your body felt like it had been hit by a truck. You sighed against his chest and his arms squeezed around you tighter, only this time you could properly enjoy it.

The silence was peaceful.

“Now, I know I’m in your bed, Y/N, but please try to keep your thoughts a little innocent for now. You’re sick, you know. When you feel better, we can revisit all those things you wanted me to do to you in a bed, ok?”

“Shut up!”

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