#i don't mind if you do that but i do mind taking the effort to look and then seeing it
The Birds & The Bees (S.R. | Pt. 24)
Summary: Spencer and Bunny take a trip to Vegas.
A/N: I BARELY finished this on time. Next chapter is just as long, so don't be surprised if I update in 3 weeks instead of 2! I'll try to keep you up to date :)
Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader
Category: Slow Burn (NSFW, 18+)
Content Warning: Gambling, casinos, references to sex workers, semi-public sex, unprotected sex, penetrative sex, mild fighting, brief jealousy
Word Count: 11k
MASTERLIST | Series Masterlist
Most days, the sun followed my Bunny. Like the pantheon of sun gods and goddesses, the dedication and persistence of her daily travels across the sky were unwavering. Each day I was left wondering how she’d managed to do it. How she could so easily give away so much of herself while remaining whole. She had singlehandedly provided comfort, life, and warmth that had sustained me through a harsh and unrelenting winter.
It only made sense, then, why it rained the first day we’d arrived in Las Vegas.
We viewed rain differently there. It was not a symbol of darkness, not an omen of danger. The torrential downpour was probably the most refreshing thing the universe could offer the desert. A reprieve from the otherwise scorching heat.
The girl still half asleep in my bed seemed soothed by the rain, too. Like a true desert flower, she curled into herself as though she could catch the water pooling between her limbs.
It was the smell of carefully planned coffee that woke her. Or perhaps it was my absence. Either way, she was unusually quick to abandon the comfort of our shared bed in favor of food and caffeine.
The hour passed with remarkably little chitchat, and I found myself resisting the fantasy I wanted to throw myself into. The domesticity of it all left me breathless and unable to focus on the crossword puzzle that would normally take me less than five minutes to solve. It had been 15, and I’d barely touched it. I didn’t mind, either. Watching her was such a better way to pass the time.
I’d promised her an interesting day but left all the details vague. I’d divulged enough, however, for her to know that she definitely needed to preen herself into oblivion.
Again, I hadn’t minded waiting. Watching her struggle to apply various colored paints and somehow shove an entire package of bobby pins and hair clips onto her head was the highlight of my day thus far. The efforts she’d gone to just to stand beside me while I probably made a fool of myself were… flattering, to say the least.
Of course, I’d predicted she would do as much. I had sort of planned on it happening, really. Although I would have been happy to take her anywhere no matter what she’d looked like, I knew she would have a much better time if she’d looked the part.
A high stakes casino was a strange place to stand out - especially as a beautiful young woman.
That was why I’d done my own preparations. While she continued to perfect what was already flawless, I located the box that I’d somehow managed to keep hidden from her until then. I removed the bundle of carefully crafted fabric, inspecting the color and already coming undone at the thought of it on her.
As I laid the dress down on the bed, I forced myself to abandon one of a million daydreams. Because she was there. I didn’t need to wonder or worry. I just had to call her name.
“Come here, sweetheart.”
Within seconds, my Bunny popped her head around the corner of the bathroom. While she said nothing at first due to the makeup brush perched precariously between her lips, it didn’t take her much longer before it clattered to the floor with a gasp.
“Oh my god! Is that for me?” she shouted before disappearing back into the bathroom to put down the rest of the stuff she’d been juggling.
“I’m certainly not going to wear it,” I joked just as I saw her little hand stick out to collect the brush she’d dropped. Once everything was where it ought to be, she’d practically tripped over her own feet to find me.
She came to a stop in front of the dress, staring down at the extravagance with a dropped jaw that was starting to worry me. I had considered whether she would consider the gesture, or the dress, to be gaudy or in otherwise poor taste. Granted, I had checked with the few women I knew before purchasing it, but it didn’t silence that voice in the back of my head that swore I would never get it totally right.
“I can get you something else if you’d rather.”
“No!” she squeaked. Her arms shot down, snatching the fabric as carefully as she could in her haste. She pressed it against her chest and looked down at the way it looked against her skin. My darling Bunny looked back up at me, and it was only then that her shock faded into a smile.
“I love it,” she said, quiet but true, “Thank you, Spencer.”
She leaned forward at the same time I did, meeting me in the middle so that my lips would meet her forehead and hopefully not ruin any of the work she’d done so far. She was too excited to linger, though. Even in the little bit of space between us, she had started to undress herself so she could don the dress, instead.
I had no qualms about it. It just meant I got to ogle her for a little while longer before I had to muster up some semblance of civility. Really, though, no matter how the dress fit — although it did fit as perfectly as I imagined — that was hardly what made her beautiful.
It was the way it made her smile. That soft, appreciative look that assured me I’d done at least one thing right. It was knowing that she wanted to be here, and that I still had some vague ability to read her correctly.
There was the other thing, too. The one I hadn’t told her about yet.
Taking the young woman into my arms before she managed to wrangle herself into the dress, I held her against me and took comfort in the warmth her bare skin offered.
“There’s something else after you change,” I whispered into her ear.
“How ominous,” she giggled.
As soon as she wriggled away from me again, she handed me the garment. I understood the instruction and was more than happy to help her into it. She slipped into it with relative ease, and I think that alone shocked her more than the surprise waiting for her in my pocket.
“How did you know my size?” she asked carefully.
There was an explanation, of course. I could explain the exact equations and estimations to her, but I figured that would be a terribly boring way to spend such a wonderful day. So, instead, I answered as simply as I could.
It succeeded in making her laugh, and so I was happy with my choices.
“Okay, weirdo,” she snorted.
“Let’s just say I look at you often and with the utmost care,” I noted in my own defense. And although she rolled her eyes at the praise, I couldn’t help but notice how she’d bit down on her tongue at the same time.
I allowed the feigned displeasure and took solace in the bashfulness hidden beneath it. Because it was all just an indicator of growth. The small flower that had once shied away at mere eye contact was now in full bloom, and I was more than happy to stay in the shade of her brilliance.
But when my hands ran down her arms, I couldn’t help but to hold her softly. The greedy, reckless hands of my youth calmed in her presence. When I pulled her closer, I fought the urge to dig fingernails into flawless skin. I did not need to leave my mark on her; she was already perfect just the way she was.
She existed before me, and she would continue to be beautiful when the day finally came for me to leave her. Although that thought also seemed silly, because while the two of us swayed to nothing but the beat of the rain, I realized that I would always be some part of her so long as she was willing to have me.
Where would I go otherwise? I didn’t care. I would simply lose myself in memories, instead. Morbid thoughts like that once frightened me. Other times the nightmares were almost dreams. Fantasies of an existence where I couldn’t disappoint the ones who relied on me.
But when I was with her, death was nothing but a vow worth breaking.
Till death do us part, I laughed to myself.
As if something so simple could ever keep me from her.
My thumb brushed over her left hand ring finger, painfully bare but still as beautiful as the rest of her. I closed my eyes, resting my head against her so that I could force my brain to stop memorizing everything. Because it wasn’t right just yet, but I needed it to happen, anyway.
Because I wanted to feel her and hear her without distraction when I asked her.
“Be my wife for the night.”
As expected, my Bunny froze in place. She returned to her prey instincts immediately. But I could handle the shock and the spike of anxiety in the silence, because when she did move, she only fell further into my arms.
Her fingers remained under their calloused counterparts, and they did not shake.
I felt as though I owed her some explanation, lest she think that I was truly insane. Part of me was worried it would cheapen the request, but I pressed forward, nonetheless.
“I don’t want the other men to have any ideas about whisking you away from me.”
With a slight waver in her voice, she answered, “I wouldn’t go with them even if they tried.”
The both of us laughed, if only to break the tension that had quickly formed and dissipated with the rain still thrumming against the windows. I took the time to slowly spin her around to face me. I soaked in the sight of her. I looked at her, drew my knuckles gently down her jaw as I tried to convince myself that this was all some elaborate dream from a damaged psyche.
But then she laughed because it tickled, and I remembered that my dreams of her were not nearly as beautiful as her company.
“They will try,” I promised her.
My Bunny answered with a peculiar offer. She held her hand up to me without any tension or tremors. Her eyes locked onto mine and filled with the wonder of an infinite number of stars. Her gaze burned into me with all the daring and temptation of the rays on Icarus’s back.
“Go ahead, then,” she whispered. “Show me the ring.”
I laughed at just how confident she’d appeared, because the giddiness was still hidden behind a bitten lip and a bounce in her step. It finally bled through the second I looked down to fish the rings from my pocket.
I thought to reassure her that it wouldn’t be the same ring I offered her when the offer was permanent, but I didn’t want to risk ruining this moment. Because regardless of the temporary nature of it all, it was wonderful, nonetheless.
I didn’t tell her that it was my mother’s ring, nor that it was a bad omen to use a ring from a doomed marriage. I never much liked to put stock into myths and fairytales, anyway. Even now that my most deluded dreams had come true, I decided that those people who wrote of romance still hadn’t experienced true love like we had.
There were no words of any language to describe the feeling that filled me the second the ring slid onto her finger. No metaphors, no artistic renditions, nothing that could ever represent even a fraction of the pure, unadulterated bliss that overtook my everything.
She was the one to kiss me. One of her hands knotted in my hair and pulled me to her, while the other sneaked into my shaking, clumsy fingers to take the matching band from me. Then she returned it, somehow managing to find me and coordinate weary but wired muscles.
She placed my father’s wedding band onto my finger, and I promised myself that I would use it as a reminder of how far I’d gotten without him. How I would be a better husband when she finally said forever.
As soon as it was settled, my hands returned to her. I couldn’t hold myself back any longer — my soul forced its way forward into our mouths. I let it taste her sweetness and reminded myself that she had found something worth sharing in my bitterness. I thought about everything that had led up to this moment, and how one day I would look back on the first time I called her my wife, no matter how small and silly it seemed in comparison.
Reluctantly, we parted. Our lips stuck together like honey drenched petals, and I savored the taste of her still lingering on my skin. I released all the breath that remained and replaced it with whatever oxygen remained from her spent lungs.
Drunk on carbon dioxide and love, I barely even blinked. I was too scared I would wake up.
“I’ll never understand why you chose me,” I whispered. “But God, am I so grateful that you did.”
But my Bunny must have been intoxicated on me, too. Albeit in a… different, more sinful way.
“There are some perks,” she snickered.
I heard the warning her playfulness carried with it, but I was still caught off guard by a firm hand pressed against the bulge in my pants. I was so shocked by the promiscuity that I actually moaned against her cheek. I hadn’t regretted it, though, because it made her laugh. And her laughter would always be my favorite sound.
Alas, I had other plans for the day. Hers would have to wait.
“Not now young lady, you need to reserve your strength,” I said through strained cords and with my hand in an almost-too-tight grip around her wrist.
“But—” she started to whine. I cut her off with a much more chaste kiss, followed by an explanation that was anything but.
“Because whether I win or lose, although I will definitely do the former, I will need you after to take out my frustrations or… the more likely… celebrate.”
All her disappointment fell aside immediately, replaced with an enthusiasm and unbridled joy that I wished I could bottle. I got the feeling the rain clouds felt the same, because shortly after she’d smiled, the rain finally started to wane. The setting sun peeked from behind the clouds to light our way to the next den of sin I would guide her through.
“What kind of casino are you taking me to, anyway? I thought you weren’t allowed to gamble?” she teased. Her attention to the most embarrassing of details was mostly charming. It also gave me the opportunity to make everything sound even more exciting.
I searched for goosebumps on her skin as I whispered back, “The only one that was willing to let me back in.”
And with my hand wrapped around the back of her neck, I found them.
“Let’s hop along, little Bunny,” I continued until her entire body trembled, “I want to show you what I can do.”
I’d never been in a casino, but I was surprised to find that the movies had depicted them rather well. Despite the moderate crowd and the constant barrage of lights and sounds we’d walked through, the room where Spencer led me was noticeably quiet. The only sounds there were the ones whispered by men who stunk like cigars and the lingering scent of alcohol coated skin.
I didn’t say a word as we sat down, exactly as instructed. Spencer assured me that he wasn’t embarrassed by me, but he explained that I could quickly get myself into one of many predicaments with just a few poorly worded thoughts. I didn’t ask him to clarify.
My seat was close enough to him that my arm could still fit neatly within his, and so I grabbed hold quickly and rarely let go. Spencer was smart enough to keep his cards out of my sight, although I’m not sure what good it would have done to the others if I had seen them. Heaven knows I was not as good of a poker player as the others at the table.
There were a million questions running through my mind, but I also hadn’t really wanted the answers. Questions like, ‘How did you meet these men in the first place? How much money have you made gambling? What kind of people are you willing to take advantage of?’
On another day, under other circumstances, the last question might’ve bothered me more. But in that moment, sitting in a room filled with smoke and overindulgent, sinful splendor, I knew that the only people available to be taken advantage of were exactly the kind of people that would have done the same if the roles were reversed.
Of course, it was all a rather cocky train of thought, considering he hadn’t won anything yet. It was hard to imagine him losing. Spencer excelled at damn near everything he tried (although Derek assured me there are many things that he is bad at).
One thing was for certain: Spencer was in his element. The only place I’d ever seen him so at home was alone in his office late at night, breathing in the scent of freshly brewed coffee and contemplating something I couldn’t dream of ever understanding.
The laws of light seemed to bend within the battle of willpower that surrounded the table. The white overhead lighting somehow appeared dim in its still blinding scrutiny. I felt as though I could see every imperfection etched on the skin of each person at the table, and yet I knew nothing of what they meant.
Considering that fact, I turned to the man next to me and sought an answer to the impossible question of what he couldn’t do. I searched sculpted cheekbones and chiseled jaw — I dipped into oceans of honeyed irises and found no errant honeycomb among the flecks. Each freckle, each stray curl was painted with such care that I wondered how anyone could ever doubt some kind of intelligent design.
Just as the thought occurred to me, Spencer turned to me. He smiled, more reserved than what I was used to, but probably more expressive than he’d meant to be. I was grateful for it, nonetheless.
I was also grateful for the fact I wouldn’t need to be so apathetic. Lord knows I couldn’t if I’d tried. I pulled myself closer, resting my head on his shoulder just in time for him to press a gentle kiss to the top of my head.
That small act of affection, however unfortunate for his game strategy, was appreciated beyond words. It reminded me of all the other little ways we could communicate. The subtle displays of our feelings in those moments where we had to remain composed.
I glanced down at my hand wrapped around his arm and I smiled. The diamond, like the light above, paid no mind to the smoke-filled air or the pompous energy of the men surrounding it. It simply shone as beautifully as it was meant to. Exactly as I was meant to do for him.
Normally I was the last person to consider myself anything remotely close to an object, but I couldn’t ignore the way it felt to be attached to someone with such notoriety. The kind of person who could carry a bag full of betting chips probably worth a full semester or more in my program for fun. The kind of person that made other people nod their heads when they passed, regardless of stature or sentiment.
My eyes strained to look up at him from his shadow, and I wondered what it must feel like to be the one taking the brunt of the blinding light just so I could exist in relative peace.
I wondered if I had gotten it wrong. Perhaps I wasn’t the diamond in this scenario.
My head perked up at the question. My eyes shot around the room to find the man who’d just spoken. When I located him, I was only somewhat surprised to find him staring hard enough to burn. His grin was unsettling, too. Like he had stolen some piece of my mind that I hadn’t wanted to give him.
I hated men like that.
“What?” I asked, breaking the cardinal rule Spencer had given me because I was angry at the breach of my peace.
My boyfriend, or husband if anyone were to ask, was less bothered than I. Without even looking up from his cards, he ordered in a somewhat bored manner, “Ignore him.”
“I just can’t help but notice how much she’s messing with it,” the other man announced from the other side of the table, “Usually that means one of a few things. Either you two are recently engaged, you’re having marital problems, or she’s not used to wearing a ring at all.”
The other men at the table chuckled at the last explanation, and it took me a moment to understand why. It wasn’t until I turned to one of the other women, a girl about my age who wore a smile so fake I might mistake it for a jester’s mask, that I understood what they’d meant.
If you want to call me a whore, just say it! was on the tip of my tongue once more, but I swallowed it the best I could. I didn’t turn to Spencer, either, because I was afraid that he would take one look at my puffed cheeks and pursed lips and lose his ability to lie.
Then again, when he did speak, nothing he said was a lie.
“You’re forgetting quite a few explanations,” he observed coolly, as if there was nothing to worry about. Like he was absolutely certain that our marriage — which, mind you, was a sham — was perfectly intact. He kept his eyes off me, but I knew he could feel my nails digging into him as I tried to bite my tongue. I kept going until he chuckled, placing a hand over mine on his arm and attempting to soothe the anger away with his thumb.
He looked back up at the man who’d made the taunt, and he said through a smile, “Regardless, I don’t appreciate the implication.”
“Which one?” he pushed further.
Spencer, who had managed to seem unbothered by it all up until that point, snapped. His arm between us shot up, and I let go to stop myself from falling forward onto the table with him.
“Spencer—!“ I started, but I was cut off by his stare.
He said nothing to me, just looked at me. He looked at me, and I felt something stir awake inside of me that I hadn’t ever felt before. This odd, almost creepy feeling in the pit of my stomach that I needed to sit down and shut up. That he knew what he was doing.
The look couldn’t have lasted more than a few seconds, but it didn't need to go on any longer. Spencer’s hands on the table moved forward slowly, but with enough force that the top of the small stack of chips behind his fingers toppled over into the pot.
“All in,” he said with an undercurrent of rage that almost sounded… wrong.
Instead of looking at him, knowing that I wouldn’t get my answer, I turned to each individual player still in the game. I watched as they tried to analyze him with what they perceived to be varying levels of success.
I turned back to Spencer, and saw that his smile, unlike his voice, was perfectly in tune.
“If you’re so convinced that you are a real profiler, then by all means, go ahead,” he laughed before his voice fell to a whisper that shared none of the prior amusement.
“Call my bluff,” he seethed.
That was when I realized what was wrong.
Spencer was lying.
He wasn’t lying in the traditional sense. His words were all straightforward. His confidence in his skill shone through to me, but the others seemed rocked by his displays of jealousy and rage. But it was those feelings that were a lie.
Spencer was no more bothered by the implication than he was by the attempts of many men to solicit me in the main room. He wasn’t worried by how they perceived me because he knew the true value of my company. There was a brief moment where I wanted to scold him for using me as a tool in his game, especially when I actually had been bothered by those nasty men’s implications.
But then he turned over his cards, and I decided I wasn’t mad anymore.
He had won. Of course, he had won.
The small gasp that left me was the only noise he let slip through. Under the table, Spencer grabbed my hand tightly as a warning to hold it in just a little while longer. So, instead of screaming about the massive influx of money headed our way for us to spend in whatever ridiculous ways we’d wanted, I turned to him. I basked in the sight of him at his peak, thanking everyone for playing the game he’d warned them he would win at. As I stared at him, I heard a familiar voice from the other side of the table.
“Lesson learned,” said the only man at the table watching me instead of Spencer.
There was a knowing glint in his eyes that I had missed before. An almost apology for having used me to get ahead, although I think he was mostly upset it hadn’t worked. Either way, I was too happy to hold a grudge at the moment. So, my answer to his stare was holding my husband closer to remind him that he had been, above all else, wrong about what he’d meant to me.
I didn’t look at the money, nor did I thrust myself forward into the spotlight. I remained where I was meant to be — beside him as an equal, but still waiting for my instruction. After all, he was the expert. I was just along for the ride.
As we gathered our things to go, the other man returned one final time. He placed a heavy hand on Spencer’s shoulder, but once again kept his eyes on me.
“Enjoy your celebration,” he conceded with a chuckle before adding more to me than to Spencer, “Whatever it might be for.”
To my surprise, Spencer took the surrender well. Turning to me with all the love that he was unable to display while on display, he let out a shaky breath that betrayed the still calm exterior. The icy charade slowly chipped away with each inch closer we came until there was nothing left but the normal warmth that he carried with him.
“We will, thank you,” he answered when he finally convinced himself to look away again.
The loss wouldn’t last long, however. The same second that we’d walked out of the room, Spencer had practically lifted me off the ground in his excitement. We broke into smiles that quickly devolved into raucous laughter that remained drowned out among the sounds of luck and misfortune surrounding us.
“Oh my gosh! That was so cool!” I beamed with a bounce in my step.
Per usual, Spencer somehow remained composed. Instead of meeting my energy, he released a dreamy sigh and brushed his hand over my cheeks that were practically burning from the adrenaline rush.
“Thank you for your help, Bunny.”
I figured it was his way of apologizing for what I’d already forgiven him for. But little did I know, Spencer was far from over with his amends.
His hands were the first warning. Inch by inch they fell down my back until it came to rest on the zipper on my side. He toyed with the piece of metal with skilled fingers that threatened to expose me to hungry eyes in a matter of seconds. His other hand didn’t fare much better. It rested lower, with the pad of his thumb digging into the skin like he was trying to etch his existence into my hip bone.
“Come with me,” he spoke with hot breath against my ear, “I want to show you something.”
There was no space in my mind for questions, no worries about what exciting new dangers he might be leading me to. I followed him without reservation, and with each hurried step I found myself recalling the first time he led me somewhere with this kind of enthusiasm.
Do you feel like a woman now? he had asked me that night.
I still pondered the question often, sometimes as a serious reflection upon my answer, more often as… something else. An attempt to relive that thrill and satisfaction derived from something as simple as a kiss in a janitor’s closet. A reminder of just how deeply rooted his desire was, and how easy it had been for us to decide when it was just the two of us alone.
When he shut the door behind me in that moment, though, we were far from a janitor’s closet. I couldn’t hear what he’d said to the man outside of the room, but I figured it would have meant little to me, anyway. The extravagant room was small, and mostly bare bones, but the pole in the middle of the room surrounded by a few chairs told me just about everything I needed to know about where he had taken me.
Before I could plead my case and swear that I had never touched a stripper pole and certainly wouldn’t be able to help him in that manner, Spencer cut me off with a kiss that possessed so much strength I would’ve fallen over if it hadn’t of been for his hands still clutching me like his favorite toy.
“Professor,” I tried to vocalize, although it sounded nothing like the word.
He didn’t let the sound distract him, either. He continued to kiss me hard and fast and unforgiving until I returned it with a similar passion. It hadn’t taken very long, anyway.
Still, Spencer wasn’t satisfied until I was trembling. He pawed at my body like he wanted to shred the luxurious fabrics he’d only just dressed me in. Even his teeth claimed the exposed skin of my collarbone like he was dedicated to ensuring that I did not leave the room until I was completely and utterly wrecked by him.
Defiled was a word he’d used before. Desecrated and displayed to the others as evidence of his power that he so rarely showed. The ability to bring me to my knees despite no one having ever taught me how to.
It was intoxicating how he managed to touch every part of me at once. It only made sense that I had barely noticed his hand bundling the fabric at my hips so he could touch the soft, damp spot forming in my underwear.
With an obvious mockery and an even more apparent amount of desire, Spencer growled something into my ear that I wouldn’t soon forget.
“Tell me what you want, Mrs. Reid.”
The sound of the title made dreamy giggles erupt from my throat. His hands that had felt suffocating suddenly felt like feathers, as if the warmth pouring from my chest had made him fuse to my skin and create something new. I was addicted, lost in the way he commanded my body so easily with a mere suggestion from his hand stroking my inner thighs.
“I like that,” I purred, much to his delight.
He came closer, taunting me with his lips just far enough away they only ghosted against my cheek while his hand remained everywhere but where I needed it most.
“Oh, do you?” he chuckled lowly, “You like being my wife?”
Fighting every urge to submit inside of me, I forced myself to correct him so that I wouldn’t lose myself too far in the fantasy and do something embarrassing.
“Pretend wife. We aren’t married yet.”
But for all my self-preservation, Spencer displayed none. His words, tone, and body language carried nothing but hubris and a staunch disrespect for the traditional romance I’d come to know him capable of.
“We can be,” he said like it was all some grand joke. “We’re in Vegas. I’ll take you right now.”
“Stop that!” I said through now-awkward chuckles. I tried to play it off, but his hands were starting to feel less arousing and more unnerving. A mere distraction from the frustration quickly mounting as I started to push him away from me. “You haven’t even asked me!”
“Sure I have, in so many words,” he hummed against my neck.
While his hands had returned to the outside of my dress, I knew it was less due to my apprehension and more so he could lead me the last few steps over to the seating.
I went with him, albeit not as happy as when we’d first arrived in the room. Spencer had finally started to notice, as evidenced by his slowing movements. His hands, still trembling from the win, cupped my face instead of my body. When he tried to turn me towards him, he stopped at the first sign of resistance.
“You need me to ask? Fine,” he laughed. A dark, foreboding sound like the one I’d heard the first time he touched me, the villainous timbre of him taking me in the backseat of his car after showing me just how powerful he could be.
Like a dare I was meant to disobey, Spencer whispered against my lips, “Be my wife.”
It was not a question, but I said no, anyway.
My hands made contact with his chest so quickly, I’d barely thought about it before I shoved him. He only stumbled back a few steps, still bursting at the seams with laughter at what he’d perceived to be an overreaction. While it was all in good fun for him, however, I was significantly less enthused by his antics.
“Spencer Walter Reid, if you are joking, this is not a very funny joke!” I shouted, crossing my arms that had just hit him and trying to stop all the blood from rushing to my face still scorching hot from his kisses. “I take wedding proposals very seriously, and I am a woman who deserves… romance! I mean rose petals, wine, happy memories —"
His laughter faded along with the adrenaline. Each word seemed to bring him closer and closer to the earth, and therefore back to me. He kept his distance, didn’t dare move forward while I let the anger and anxiety spill from my lips even when I knew that I was acting like a child. I continued, nonetheless.
“—and you’d better believe that if you propose to me in a… a casino stripper room ever again, I’ll…! Well, I-I’ll say no! Again!”
Spencer tried not to smile, to his credit. The composure he’d kept during the game returned momentarily but was quickly fused with enough adoration to give away his true feelings. The amused chuckle didn’t help, either.
“You are so goddamn adorable when you’re mad,” he said.
“I’m not joking!” I whined, pouted, and stomped, not unlike a toddler during a tantrum, “It’s not funny!”
The red filling my vision started to fade the second that he touched me again. His fingers brushed against my elbow so gently that I’d almost missed it. If I hadn’t been staring at him, trying to analyze the unreadable in his eyes, perhaps I would have.
But he was calling to me, with his chest open and his mouth curved in a more sympathetic smile. His hand slid down my arm until my fingers uncurled to make space for his. Although perfectly capable of pulling me forward, he didn’t. He waited for me to decide, albeit with a little bit of a nudge in the right direction.
“Oh, Bunny,” he said like an apology, “Come here, sweetheart. Come sit with me.”
And I did. I took my sweet time shuffling over to the chair. He took a seat on a couch that was certainly big enough for the both of us to sit side by side, but his hands and eyes made it clear that wasn’t where he wanted me.
Spencer led me onto his lap like royalty to the throne. His hands that had been quick to claim were suddenly bashful. He only held me where he needed to secure me, and in doing so he reminded me why it had been ridiculous to ever question his ability to make even the filthiest of places feel like home. My body recognized his almost immediately. Like instinct of something akin to soulmates, we fell into place perfectly.
My dress was once again bundled at my hips to allow me to straddle him, but nothing about it felt sexual… yet. Not until his voice hit my ears from mere inches away, low and spoken through an ungodly amount of restraint.
“When I ask you… I promise you that there will be no doubt.”
Holding a handful of my hair away from my neck, he drew sloppy kisses against the skin just below my ear until I had started to squirm again. The stark contrast of his breath against saliva covered skin in an otherwise frigid room made goosebumps erupt over every exposed inch. And I swore that if I’d given him enough time, he would’ve counted each of them with nothing but his tongue.
I tried to redirect him, tried to bring him back so that I could look into his eyes and possibly find something nearly half as beautiful to say in response. I wanted to frolic in the golden wheat and clover fields of his eyes and see if it reminded me of Persephone’s first home.
But then he spoke again.
“I’ll make you a queen,” he promised, and I felt the excitement of my first chance of freedom after a millennium of waiting. I felt the earth split below me and I leapt with fullest confidence into the crevice bursting with nothing but promises of hellfire.
I craved the warmth that only he could provide. The power and security I would find at his side. The knowing that although he was the first, he was destined to be the last. That I would never need to search for anything more than what I found in his hands.
I was not a bird frozen in the nectar pooled in his palms. I was the phoenix, reborn into the woman I’d always wanted to be. The one that could easily choose independence but decided that it was more fun with his company.
With his left hand locked in mine, Spencer squeezed harder and harder until I was woken from my reverie and returned to the ecstasy of his lips on mine. Through the open-mouthed kiss, he groaned, “I want to dress you in diamonds.”
I decided then and there those formalities, technicalities, and crystallized carbon be damned. For that moment, in that small pocket universe where there was nothing but the unbridled lust of a young goddess finally freed to feel whatever she wished, I was his wife.
And I wanted him. I wanted him so badly it hurt.
“What is it, sweetheart?” he dared me to speak it into existence. His hands were already working just as mine were to pull our clothes aside as much as we needed to in order to come together again.
“I-I want you to…” I slurred, my voice failing the second he pulled aside the flimsy cotton and dipped his fingers into my heat. The contact only lasted a few seconds, just long enough for him to see that there was no preparation needed at all.
That realization emboldened him to continue more playfully, “Say it, Bunny. Use your words.”
“I want you to…” I tried only to feel the words get caught in my throat. Something about his stare and the order made me feel bashful in the best way. Like it was the first time all over again. I channeled that feeling, the pure bliss of him sharing my body and existing within me both figuratively and literally, and I whispered just loud enough for him to hear, “Fuck me. Please.”
“That’s my girl,” he said with a smile that made my heart melt, “I’m so proud of you.”
Spencer pulled me forward into his arms at the same time he lifted me to position himself at my entrance. I buried my mouth against his neck and waited for him to release my body weight, only to be surprised when he slowly lowered me down a few inches before helping lift me again. Each torturous motion would give me a taste of him before I was forced to be empty once more. Eventually, though, his willpower and restraint failed him the same as shaking arms.
With one final push of his hands on my hips, I dropped onto him in one fluid motion. A desperate cry tore from my throat that Spencer made no attempt to stop. In fact, as soon as it was over, he thrust up into me again, harder, and harder until my voice broke and became nothing.
I lifted my hips, overjoyed by the ability to control my own pace once more. I closed my eyes for just one second to focus on the lewd sounds of sex coming from between our bodies. When I opened them again, I found honeyed irises engulfed in a similar desire.
“Someone got excited watching the men fight over her,” he teased with an undeniable admiration for my newly found confidence. Or, rather, how quickly I’d abandoned it when he touched me.
“That is not why!” I tried to plead my case but there was too much to focus on.
He predicted each time I was meant to speak and would punctuate the silence with his mouth attached to the crook of my neck until blood vessels rioted and broke in their fight to come closer to him. It wasn’t until my nails dug into his nape and my fingers tugged hard enough on the hair to elicit a moan from the man that he was able to speak.
And speak he did.
“Tell me what it is, then, Bunny,” he said through lips still wet from painting my skin with his tongue, “Tell me what got you so excited that you’re already dripping when I’ve barely even touched you.”
Fighting against my grip, Spencer's eyes met mine dead on. He challenged me with his everything, holding me down with a firm grip on my hips while he bucked into me to remind me of how deeply he permeated every part of my existence in this fantasy we created each time we were alone.
I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know how to thank him for the way my skin felt like delicious fire and I wanted to burn forever. All I could do was return each of his efforts with sounds that only barely resembled his name. All I wanted to do was praise him until he took mercy on the both of us.
“Speak up, sweetheart,” he whispered with no mercy at all, “I want to hear that pretty voice while I fuck you.”
“But…” I started, only to be swiftly cut off with reassurance that almost sounded like a warning.
“You can do it, sweetheart. Tell me.”
Just as he’d said it, his grip on my hips loosened and allowed me to move freely again. But that embarrassment and insecurity crept back between us. It filled my throat and made my eyes burn, but I wanted to do it for him.
Spencer touched me softly and with nothing but kindness and patience. His lips were no longer haphazard or wanting, and instead only chose chaste places to call home. Places like my cheeks and my nose and eventually pouted lips. He kissed away the anxiety and eased tense muscles with his thumb on my back.
“Please, Bunny?” he asked so sweetly that the words came to me without even thinking.
“I like them thinking I’m your wife.”
From his position still inside of me, I felt his cock twitch at the thought. His hands also betrayed his patience and began to urge me to move.
But his eyes, those beautiful, evocative things, remained filled with reverence and wonder. They filled me with such admiration and pride that it spilled from my lips without regard to what effect they might have on him.
I simply said it because it was true.
“I… I’m proud of you, too."
The effect, however intended, was instantaneous. That fire that Spencer could control so easily flared all at once. Any restraint was thrown to the wind along with my fears that I might do something wrong. There was no space for regret or mistake in our embrace.
Slowly, we built up to our previous rhythm before he had to go and remind me that he would always find me flawless. Soon enough, I was crying out his name like a prayer in one of the devil’s homes. I etched my lust onto his pressed suit and reminded myself that he could just buy another one now, anyway.
“Fuck,” he laughed at the same time as me. That beautiful, blissful sound was all that I could hear for a few seconds longer. It ended to make sure for another promise from the man that I was proud to call my husband if only for a day. “I’m going to take care of you no matter what, Bunny. You know that, right?”
I didn’t trust myself not to say ‘I love you,’ so instead I nodded my head with my bottom lip firmly between my teeth. I rocked my hips in the same motion until I couldn’t hold my mouth closed any longer. I sought out the friction to end the encounter not because I was tired of him, but because I wanted to witness his undoing, too.
“That’s it, Bunny. Keep going just like that,” he begged for both of our benefits, “Use me to get yourself off. You deserve to feel so good, sweetheart.”
As wonderful as the sentiment was, as much as he wanted to feel useful the same way I always got to, I couldn’t bring myself to allow it. I couldn’t make him small enough to consume. I couldn’t convince myself that he was anything but the other half of my soul. I didn’t want to use him, I only wanted to feel his love in the only way I knew how.
“I want you to take care of me,” I requested softly and sweetly so that he might understand just how much I wanted to please him. I nuzzled my cheek against his and hoped that he would feel the way I felt about him in the plea. “Please, Professor.”
There were no further complaints or requests. His arms shook the same as my legs, but he persisted through the ache and exhaustion. He held me as tightly as he could while he fucked me. All the while he littered my face with kisses, affirmation, and praise.
“I’ve got you,” he whispered just before the stars inside of me burst.
“I’ve got you,” he repeated when my walls started to flutter around him. He didn’t stop, didn’t even slow down as I held onto him. He pushed through the resistance until he could find his own release at the deepest point of me.
I tried to call his name, tried to sing his praise, but all that came out was a series of whimpers that he would take that way, anyway. Spencer didn’t ask me for anything; he just held me with gentle hands that eased the tension from my trembling body before he ever stopped to worry about the tremors wrecking his own.
“Good girl,” he said with a sated sigh. Then, under his breath and with static in each syllable, he muttered, “Я не могу жить без тебя (I can’t live without you).”
“Happy words?” I asked.
“Always,” he answered.
I didn’t ask him to clarify.
We stayed together for as long as we reasonably could, but it would never be enough. But perhaps that was the magical thing about love. Maybe that was why it always felt like the first time.
I decided that I didn’t care about being enough anymore. I just wanted to be. To be free and to be with him.
Unfortunately, we were still in public, so the awkward dance of trying to appear presentable after the throes of passion and with very little tools at our disposal was challenging to say the least. It wasn’t until we’d made it back onto the main floor that I finally let out the breath I’d been holding. I let the relief set in that we’d managed to escape the scene of the crime without being caught in a less than sophisticated position.
Spencer heard my sigh of relief and turned to me with a smile. It wasn’t necessarily a question — more an observation of my many idiosyncrasies — but I felt obligated to answer, anyway.
“That was lucky.”
Surprisingly, though, my boyfriend didn’t seem to follow what I’d thought to be an obvious train of thought. Instead, he just scrunched up his face in confusion and asked, “What do you mean?”
“No one came in…?” I explained cautiously, as if there was something else that I must’ve been missing.
Then, in his typical way, Spencer assured me that there was, in fact, something I hadn’t noticed.
“Oh, it’s because I paid one of the workers $2,000 to keep everyone away.”
“What?! Spencer!” I balked, but he didn’t relent in his nonchalant dramatics.
“It was worth it, if you ask me,” he decided with a shrug.
“I can’t believe you,” I scoffed with a playful bump of our shoulders. When he pretended like the gentle touch had actually wounded him and not just his pride, I explained rather loudly, “That’s more than my rent!”
Without skipping a beat, Spencer asked, “You want me to pay for that, too?”
Unable to find anything intelligent or witty to say to the dare, I simply made garbled noise until I could vocalize at least one syllable: “Hush!”
Although Spencer smiled and somewhat accept defeat, there was something about the look in his eyes that couldn’t be chocked up to the normal happy hormone rush after sex or the sudden dramatic jump in his income.
“I would,” he assured me without the usual mocking tone or quiet coo. In plain English he stated, “Or we can skip the middleman altogether and you can just move in with me.”
Spencer looked too calm, too vulnerable for me to be certain that he was joking. But his words still strained credulity, and I knew it would be too dangerous to assume he wasn’t just teasing me in a very cruel manner.
So, I answered his offer with a bitter, sarcastic drone, “Ha-ha. I get it. I was being a bit of a wet blanket. Very funny.”
“No, I mean it,” he insisted, but I was too scared to believe it just yet.
“Yeah… whatever,” I sighed.
Spencer let it go but took my hand in his with a sneaky smile that I swore was hiding something I desperately wanted to know. Something that sounded like an unspoken dare of, Just wait, you’ll see.
You are already mine to me.
Growing up in the desert shaped me more than I’d ever like to admit. Something about the way we desert people are taught to treasure the night and the flowers that bloom within it; the sweet serenity of silence when the oasis finally faded from your rear view.
There are few things in my life that I treasured as much as the rain, but she was one of them. I had likened her to night-blooming cereus on many occasions. A spectacle for the masses to crowd around so that they could be blessed with the miracle of the cactus that only blooms one night of the year.
But as we laid together on silk sheets, with every part of her glowing from the expensive bottle of champagne that still wasn’t good enough to kiss her lips, I think it was her night.
The moon peeked through city splendor to find her, still. To hopefully get a chance to touch some small part of her skin, to share in the sweet scent of vanilla unlike the others. To witness the way that she unfurled her petals to make room for my fingers to trace soft, fragile filaments with whatever parts of me I could make gentle.
My lips caressed the sensitive skin of her neck, not stopping when she giggled because I was waiting for her to wrap around me again. And she did, like always, clinging to the only warmth she could find in the biting night air.
With her hands in my hair and her leg hooked around me, the small flower beneath me brought my lips to hers, but she didn’t kiss me. Instead, she whispered playfully, “Professor, I have a confession.”
“I think… I’ve had too much wine to be trusted to share a bed with you,” she explained through snickers and her best attempt at a straight face.
I returned a hum and a feigned contemplation but dropped my body closer as I fell onto my forearms above her.
“Is that right?” I returned slowly, to be sure that she heard the plea for her to come closer somehow, instead. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah. I mean, I would hate for something scandalous to happen,” she quipped with a healthy dose of sarcasm, “Let’s not forget what happened the last time you let a drunk girl into your bed.”
“You mean you?” I laughed. I clarified it only on the off chance that it had been a genuine attempt to trick me, although I should’ve known better to think she wouldn’t have simply asked.
She always trusted me. Even when I didn’t.
Even when she shouldn’t.
The thought was interrupted by the incessant, charming attempts of the girl beneath me to pull me closer. I relented but refused to collapse entirely onto her. I struggled to keep my weight off her, no matter how hard she tried to pull me closer. The voice reminding me of my every mistake remained, shouting my fears from the safety of my own mind.
I don’t want to watch you get crushed under the badness.
“Kiss me,” my Bunny called when I began to drift away.
I was still lost in a memory, reliving that one moment where I somehow had the restraint to protect her from me a little while longer. I clung to that feeling the same way she held onto me. I reminded myself that I could still be a good man, even if I made mistakes along the way.
She had never been anything close to a mistake.
“God, I don’t think you understand how hard it was to say no to you,” I groaned before dropping my forehead against her own.
She must have anticipated a ‘no’ to follow because the poor girl became even more insistent.
“So don’t say no again,” she begged, quiet and shy and everything I could ever dream of.
My demure little darling, a dream in and of herself. The only thing that could never compare to a fantasy, the one who haunted my dreams by not being close enough to reality.
My lips found hers, claimed hers with renewed vigor that was returned in earnest. I reveled in the way that she was still clumsy and unpracticed in her movements, and I hoped that she would never perfect them. I wanted her to remain as untouched as when I found her. I wanted to make her mine, but I wanted each and every part of her to remain pure.
I wanted to take nothing from her. I wanted to take everything from her.
I wanted her to give it all to me and not come to regret it.
When we broke apart, she whimpered at the loss. Lips still sweet despite the bitterness of the wine remained puckered long after her eyes opened to reveal the glassy, lustful stare that permeated through all my most treasured memories.
“Oh, I would give you anything you asked for, sweetheart,” I promised her.
“Then kiss me more,” she begged.
I dragged my lips over hers, but she seemed unsatisfied.
“Here?” I asked between chaste pecks.
But as soon as I had them, they were gone again. My Bunny threw her head back, baring her neck to me with its lazy pulse. Then, with enough hunger to starve me, she growled, “Everywhere.”
She squirmed and scratched at the back of my neck until I did as she instructed. It wasn’t until my face was buried in her neck that she began to come to rest. I poured my soul into each loving touch. I tried to assure her through lips and hands alone that I would stay true to my promise to take care of her, to nurture and love her until there was nothing left of me to give.
As I felt her body start to go limp, I couldn’t help but think of the small but beautiful creatures that shared her name.
Rabbits are born naked, blind and deaf. They won’t open their eyes until around the tenth day of their existence. Until then, they trust the only world they know — the one where they are safe, warm, and cared for.
I looked down at the now sleeping girl, with her arms open and breasts exposed. I saw the vulnerability that I’d craved my whole existence. I watched her chest rise and fall, her eyes remaining closed even when my knuckles dragged over the sensitive skin of her chest. My Bunny trusted me. A deep, unconditional trust. The kind that I had never been able to return for anyone.
But I wanted to give that to her. I wanted to be able to display the darkest parts of me always. I wanted her to know every misstep, every mistake, and every regret I had ever made and that will ever come to be. I wanted to share it all with her.
Seconds after that sturdy wall around my heart had begun to crack, the pain followed. My insecurities and imperfections threatened to bring everything down into a chaotic pile of wreckage. It threatened to take her down with it, and I was afraid that she might finally walk away for good.
My hands started to shake. The warmth of her skin suddenly felt like fire, and I began to panic at the idea of leaving behind scorched feathers and wax. I had seen how easily someone like me could sink into skin and leave it stained forever.
I wanted to be vulnerable with her, but I had brought her here under the guise of a lie.
I tried to convince myself that it hadn’t been a lie — it was a failure to disclose. A half-truth, a misunderstanding. But she had looked at me with innocent eyes and asked me what Lila meant to me, and I had failed to tell her the truth.
Really, though, truly, the truth wasn’t that far off from the relative apathy I’d expressed. If you’d asked me 18 years earlier, or perhaps even 15, I might’ve had more to say about Lila Archer. But so much had changed that she had become not much more than a memory. Assuring myself of that did little to help the pit in my stomach, however.
I barely slept that night. It felt selfish and cruel, to rest soundly next to her when I had essentially guided her straight into the lion’s den. Although I’d hoped that Lila wouldn’t make a big deal out of the nothing we’d shared, I couldn’t blame her if she’d mentioned it.
After all, what kind of lunatic wouldn’t tell his girlfriend that the bride invited him to her wedding because he was her ex-boyfriend?
An idiot, I decided. That’s who.
I was a fucking idiot.
I was no profiler, but I liked to think that I knew my boyfriend well enough to know when he wasn’t doing well. Although, that was a significantly less impressive skill when he was behaving like he had been for the entire day leading up to our trip to Lila’s house.
Aside from the general antsy rambling, Spencer had barely said a word to me about the plans for the day. Of course, I knew that I’d be meeting his friends, all of whom were both famous and significantly older than me. I supposed that he figured that was enough to know. He would probably be right to assume that any more information would just lead to unnecessary anxiety and overthinking.
But as the taxi pulled up outside a mansion that was much too big, I couldn’t help but think that Spencer was the one stuck in a rut of restless thoughts. It was bad enough, in fact, that he had almost forgotten to open my door for me. Granted, I had opened it long before he would have made it to my side of the car, but this time I also managed to get out without his hand to help me.
That was when I noticed that the relentless rocking of the car had not just been Nevada roads — everything about him was filled with energy in the worst way.
“Spencer, are you alright? You’re shaking.”
“I’m fine,” he answered quickly enough that I didn’t trust him one bit.
“Do we need to go back to the hotel? You look like you’re really freaking out.”
“I said I’m fine. It’s fine. Everything is fine,” he grumbled, taking three steps towards the door just to stop and turn on his feet. We were already on the steps, but he looked ready to bolt into the night never to be seen again.
“You definitely look fine,” I responded with enough sarcasm to finally knock enough sense into him for him to admit, “Okay, you’re right. I’m freaking out, yes.”
Spencer’s hands balled into fists that he brought to his eyes. He pressed hard enough against his face that I watched red skin turn white. His chest was moving quicker, too, until I was honestly worried that he might pass out before the door even opened.
“Just breathe, Spencer. Whatever it is, I’m sure it’s fine.”
Spencer was not convinced at all by my assurances, and if anything, my relative calmness seemed to send him further into a spiral. Just before I felt like I might lose him to a much more troubling train of thought, he burst into a rant that hit me like a slap in the face.
“Okay, listen, this is terrible timing and I deeply regret it, and if I could go back and tell you at a different, better time, trust and believe me when I say that I would—”
“What are you talking about?!” I returned, albeit more hushed and somehow even more rushed than him.
“I wasn’t just Lila’s bodyguard,” he said, as if that had meant anything to me.
And then he said something else. Something that definitely, absolutely meant something to me.
“We slept together… Twice.”
The cloud nine I’d been sailing on for the past few days collapsed all at once.
“She was…” he said breathlessly, “She was my first.”
Every good thought and bit of confidence I’d had when we arrived had been shattered like porcelain that I swore I could feel filling my stomach. The stabbing pain of a million sharpened points of a once beautiful creation shredded my insides until it all came out in a few frantic, devastated words.
“You’re telling me this now?!”
Spencer, who was obviously freaking out at an equal level as me despite having no justification for it, considering it was his fault for not telling me before, spared me no mercy when he answered, “What did I just say about timing—?!“
Somehow, I managed to not smack him upside his stupid, beautiful head. I kept myself as together as I could with tears threatening to spill at any possible second. I swallowed the insecurities and anger, but it came out, anyway.
“I’m going to kick your ass!” I screeched.
My boyfriend, who knew me well enough to know that my threat was empty and only came from a place of profound pain, returned an exhausted groan. I could see the next sentence on his tongue; I could feel the apology and explanation that he had probably spent all day planning.
Unfortunately, the very same second that his mouth opened again, so, too, did the door.
“Hey, Spencer,” Lila said through a smile that made my skin crawl from just how warm it was. “I’m so happy that you made it.”
And when she reached forward to hug him, I found myself stepping away to make room for her on the patio. I stood on the sidelines as his arms opened for her and his eyes lit up again without having to look at me.
Do you think you’re the first girl to make this mistake? You’re not.
Good luck with that.
Trust me, you’ll need it.
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• PLACEMENTS THAT GIVE BAD BITCH ENERGY •
After some clarifications, now I know what BBL energy is. To the person who submitted this, I hope I got this one right. Long post ahead!
💅🏽 Aries, Taurus, Leo, Virgo, Libra, Scorpio, and/or Capricorn: Sun/Moon/Venus/Mars/Rising
Yes, this one listed a lot of signs in different placements, and it might sound generic. But honestly, people with these placements can really dish out that bad bitch energy when they want! Of course, it just so happens that it manifests in different ways.
A person with a Taurus Mars might show their aggressive and dominant side by show of material possessions. They're the ones to shine that 4-carat diamond bling, or someone who invited a lot of guests in their home to show grandeur. Another example is an Aries Moon. These natives are those who absolutely not afraid to call out anybody! And as much as other people find these natives "too much to handle," I absolutely love them, and the fact that they're the ones who can set things straight when nobody else can do so. 💪🏽
💅🏽 Pisces in the 2nd, 5th, and 8th House
You read that right. Pisces in the 2nd House natives are severely underestimated. Let me emphasize severely here. Others might think natives with this placement are all humble, meek, or simple fixtures in the house. But Pisceans know and feel everything within a 10-mile radius. And when placed in this house, Pisces becomes someone who is very conscious of power plays through the use of tangible things. These people are silent overachievers, believe it or not. They want to achieve things so badly so they could acquire whatever they want to show others what they're capable of.
People with Pisces in the 5th House are water signs with a touch of Leo's energy. If something doesn't sit right with these natives, the Leo energy gives them the right amount of push to say what's on their mind. And when they do, they can shut a bitch up, absolutely no problem. They're tagged as the person of few words, but can drive a point home. Don't try these folks! 🤨
Lastly, a person with Pisces in the 8th House is similar to that of the 2nd House counterpart; but in a more covert and intangible aspect. These natives are now amplified with Scorpionic energy, and when you combine Pisces and Scorpio... 😏 🤝 👀 You get someone who knows people's motives before anyone else got it figured out. And they 100% use this to their advantage. These natives will be that person you didn't see coming — but they suddenly come through with all the tea about everybody, and nobody can mess with them and the blackmail material. 😌🍵
💅🏽 Lilith in Aries, Leo, Virgo, Libra, Scorpio, Sagittarius, and Capricorn; and/or in the 1st, 5th, 6th, 7th, 8th, 9th, and 10th House
Whew, this is a laundry list of placements. But what we're not going to do is to not include Lilith placements in this post because she is the OG bad bitch.
Lilith in the fire signs — namely Aries, Leo, and Sagittarius — are those natives who exude the nature of Lilith without even making a lot of effort. Their presence is enough to speak for themselves. The regality and grandiose way these people carry themselves precedes any introduction. They just got that 💄 energy. Rihanna and Zendaya have their Lilith in Leo, for example.
Lilith in the earth signs — such as Virgo and Capricorn, in this case — have such a subtle yet very much present aura of grandeur that transcends time and trends. They have the bad bitch energy until the day they perish. Examples of this belong to Lily Collins and Zoë Kravitz, who both have their Lilith in Virgo.
I know a lot of people have mixed opinions about this person but you have to admit that Kim Kardashian is the embodiment of Lilith in Libra. She spearheaded an entire beauty standard and directly affected capitalistic businesses entirely, both in a positive and negative way. If you need another example, take Coco Chanel — another fashion icon.
Lastly, a person with Lilith in Scorpio is the ultimate eye-candy, bombshell, and Lilith incarnate. The amount of attention they get and attract is astounding, and they're not even doing anything at all! Beyoncé and Winona Rider are two of the famous examples of this placement. It's like... they're meant to be seen and remembered for their existence alone.
💅🏽 Asteroid Medusa (149) aspecting Personal Planets; especially Ascendant and Midheaven
Last but definitely not the least, Asteroid Medusa is listed here for a reason. Medusa evokes all sorts of feelings and emotions from people; mainly hate and jealousy. But that's exactly what it's all about. Other people are immediately sensing a predator when natives with these aspects enter a room. If you have this in your chart, you ain't to be trifled with. You might have gotten nasty looks sent your way by strangers when you're not even doing anything to warrant such negativity. It's not you, honey. It's them and their jealousy. 👸🏻👸🏼👸🏽👸🏾👸🏿💅🏽
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Fluff 27 Geraskier
“why the hell is there glitter everywhere?”
"Jaskier," Geralt says, looking at the scene in front of him, Jaskier sitting cross legged on the floor, an arts and crafts disaster taking up most of the rug. Jaskier has the look of a man who has gone slightly feral, and has yellow paint smeared up one arm and across one cheek.
Jaskier looks at him, looks at the mess, then says "oh".
"Why the hell is there glitter everywhere?" Geralt asks, because Jaskier is shimmering as he moves, the afternoon sun catching his fucking eyelashes which boast a healthy smattering of the stuff.
"I wish I could give you a reasonable explanation," Jaskier says, and shrugs. "Would you believe the Poundland round the corner had a mystery crafts box, and, ah, well, you know. It's a pound. I thought I should check it out for when Ciri visits, you know, something to do with her."
Geralt's heart softens at that. He knows how hard Jaskier works with Ciri, so sure that she'll never accept him, even though she's loved him from the first day she met him. No amount of convincing from Geralt, Ciri or even a very reluctant Yennefer can change his mind.
"She'll love it," Geralt says, and ducks down so that he's eye level with Jaskier. "All this," Geralt gestures vaguely, not quite sure what to make of it, "she'll love it."
"Nah, I don't know, maybe? I should have, I don't know. There's the posh craft shop in town, I could get something better? Or maybe she'd like a day out? No, no, that's a bad idea. Oh Geralt, maybe you should just take her out this weekend? I'll - go to a coffee shop or something. You won't know I'm here."
"Jask," Geralt says simply, and awkwardly reaches for Jaskier's hand, slightly tacky with glue. "You know I'm not good at this. But Ciri loves you. I can promise you that."
Jaskier squirms, looking down at the rug, then back at Geralt.
"You think?" He asks.
"I know," Geralt says, certain. Ciri may be four years old, but she knows her own mind. She gets that from Yennefer, he's sure of it. There'd be no persuading her if she didn't like Jaskier.
"Geralt, am I being a fool?" Jaskier asks. "I just want everything to be perfect. I don't want her to think I'm trying to replace her mum or anything. I'm trying my best, but this is all new to me."
"You're doing everything right," Geralt says. "She loves you. I love you. Please stop worrying."
Jaskier laughs a little at that, because it's an impossible request. Geralt understands that.
"I could calm down a little I suppose. But she's your kid, you know? That matters to me."
Geralt thinks, careful because he wants to get his words right.
"I wouldn't be with you if you didn't care as much as you do," he says after a long moment. "Everything you do proves I made the right choice."
"Geralt," Jaskier says, and grins, and there his Jaskier is. Finally.
"Clear this mess up, hmm?" Geralt says and Jaskier looks affronted.
"This is art!" He says, but does look slightly rueful.
"I'll hang it on the fridge," Geralt says, and rolls his eyes. "And you call Ciri a child."
"Hey, rude," Jaskier says, "one day this will be worth millions."
"Which is why it's going on the fridge, and not in the bin," Geralt says, and stands, his knees protesting.
"Hey, come back here, I want kisses!" Jaskier sulks, but makes no effort to move.
No. Geralt has learnt that lesson the hard way.
"No kisses until you've showered at least twice," he says.
"One time, Geralt, that was one time Yennefer made fun of you! The glitter suited you!"
"Hmm," Geralt says, and turns away to hide a smile.
Half an hour later, Jaskier still hasn't showered, but he gets his kisses anyway, curled up on the couch around Geralt.
Geralt finds glitter on himself for days afterwards.
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How the demon bros would celebrate an achievement of yours (headcanons)
Some positive headcanons! The brothers are so enamored by you that they would be delighted to celebrate an achieved goal of yours, no matter how big or small it was. Scored high on an exam you studied hard for? Finally finished your drawing? A project you were working on for ages? If you are happy, then they'll be happy.
Also I realized way too late that it completely took a turn from them celebrating your achievement, to the bros actually having excuses to spend time with you. But it's something they'd totally do, so oh well. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
Contrary to most of his brothers, Lucifer doesn't need to do celebrations that could be considered "over the top". While they are pretty tame and normal, his actions come from the heart, and this is what matters most.
As soon as he heard the news, he was quick to offer his congratulations, a reaction that might seem way too plain for some, but that's only because Lucifer waits for his brothers to leave you alone before stepping towards you and offering you to bring you along for a nice dinner, just between the two of you.
Everything is on him at the restaurant. You could order the entirety of what's written on the menu, and he wouldn't mind.
Tonight, YOU are the guest of honor at his table, and the only expression he wants to see on your face is one of happiness. After all, after such efforts, you deserve to remain in high spirits for the rest of the night.
He makes sure to ask about what you were working on all this time, he wants to know every detail about it just to appreciate the results as much as you do. Plus, it's nice to see you all excited to talk about it in front of him.
Expect champagne at the table, even if your achievement could be considered small by some. A hardworking person such as you needs at least one glass of the sparkly liquid to properly celebrate.
Once at home, he makes sure to keep you to himself for the rest of the evening. He locks the two of you in his office, and invites you for further drinking by pulling out some Demonus from one of his cabinets.
The rest of the night is pretty casual, yet comfortable. He sits you on his lap at his desk, and the conversation you had quickly turns into rows of laughter as the alcohol begins to kick in.
It doesn't take long for his loving eyes to stop on you, his hand resting on your cheek as his gloved thumb begins rubbing your skin.
"You really are something MC, you know that? Truthfully, I think you might actually be the most perfect person I've ever met. Would you mind if I kissed you? Consider it an additional reward for all your hard work."
Mammon is, as one would expect, way different from his older brother when it comes to celebrating something. Especially when it's something HIS human did.
He actually was the first one to even let his brothers know that something had happened, when he suddenly barged into the common room with you in his arms, spinning you around as if he had just heard the best news of his life.
"Yo, check this out! Just hear what MC did! You better show them some respect!"
Don't be ashamed, MC! You need to let everyone know how hard you worked your butt off! And he certainly isn't ashamed to show you off to the others, making sure to emphasize on the fact that *his* human did something impressive (and it's really important to remind his brothers about it constantly, you never know).
Once he's done making you dizzy, he lets the others congratulate you. You might be his and his only, but you deserve all the compliments you can get. The more you can hear from other people how much you deserved to reach that goal, the bigger your smile, and the better he'll feel as a result. It's a win-win!
But as soon as your eyes go back on him, he snatches you back before dragging you onto an impromptu shopping spree. What? No they aren't gifts, you just need to receive a proper reward for doing a hard job! That's how it works, dummy human!
They are really gifts, but of course he'll only admit it once his energy levels have depleted enough. Wait until the evening to make him go back on his words.
As soon as you've entered a store, he'll grab any item your eyes fall upon. This bag? Great choice, your tastes aren't as bad as he thought! Yes MC you definitely need this outfit! Wha? You didn't even browse through that section yet? S-Shut up, just go and try it!
If you still have energy left after your shopping spree, he'll have you two swing by the house to change outfits and hang together for the night. First stop is at The Fall, where he makes sure you spend the entire night by his side, only to finish it by walking around the city under the starry sky. You stop at a cliff overlooking the entire city in order to wind up faily soon after leaving the club, the both of you sighing in unison as you fall upon a bench to rest.
"Did ya finally get in your head that you deserved to achieve that? You did? Good. I really wanted you to realize how hardworking you were. It was better than to stay at the house doing nothing, huh? And I even got to have you to myself all day... Guess we both got good rewards in the end."
While he might not invite you to an expensive restaurant or some fancy nightclub, Levi does have his own ways of showing how proud of your accomplishments he is.
After all, it is not because he is the Avatar of Envy that he has to be jealous of everything you achieve. You manage to handle him and his antics every single day, it's only natural that he'd be happy for his best friend in return.
He already knew of your situation thanks to how much you two would talk to each other through text or vocal calls. And since he is quite the devoted friend, you hadn't even opened your mouth as you entered his room to play games, that he was already congratulating you.
His first way to show you how proud he is of you is to send you some rare items in one of your mutual co-op games. N-No, it's okay, he totally had extras! You can have them, you're the most deserving of them!
The majority of his gifts would be virtual ones, but he'd also let you borrow most of his precious manga volumes and DVDs. Just make sure to bring them back though, he'd like to read and watch them with you again in the future. Consider him allowing you to have a shared ownership over them!
Levi would most certainly be one to actually keep your success a secret from the others. He just knows deep down that if the word got out, his brothers would snatch you away and offer you better gifts than him. And as much as he loves you, he'd like this solitary moment with you to last a little bit longer.
Expect an evening where YOU get to choose what you guys do. He lets you decide on whether or not you want to play a certain game, watch a series in particular, or maybe do you want to play in VR? No matter your choice, as long as he gets to spend time with you, Levi will feel content.
Around the end of the "night" (well, more like early morning considering it's Levi we're talking about), when your energy levels have almost ran dry, that's when Levi actually takes the time to ask you more about how you were able to accomplish your set goal.
It's a surprisingly relaxed conversation with him, where, while the two of you are laid down face to face on the carpet, you get to let out all the worries you used to have, only to feel them being washed away once you were done with your objective. Levi nods fairly often, not missing a single word from your story.
"It's really cool that you managed it! R-Really, it's very impressive... Sometimes I wonder if there's something you cannot do. If that's the case, could you teach me some things you know? Like, huh... order something at a shop without stuttering to the cashier for a whole minute...? H-Hey, don't laugh!"
Satan is, as expected, pretty similar to Lucifer in his ways of congratulating you. But while he would agree a dinner could be a good idea to express how proud he was of you, the fourth-born would choose more traditional date locations to invite you at.
He had learned about the news from one of his brothers, and soon after you appeared in the living room, he placed down the book he was reading to offer you a kind smile, taking your hands in his.
"Really, MC? I'm very happy you were able to get it done, this was no easy feat. How about you and I head to the coffee shop? After all, you must be quite exhausted after all this. My treat."
On your way to the coffee shop, Satan made sure to ask if you hadn't dealt with too many problems during the whole process. Even if now, the thing had been taken care of, maybe he could always lend you a hand in the future. He doesn't want you to struggle with anything and end up overworking yourself.
Of course, he insists on paying for your drinks once arrived at your destination. Once sat at a table next to the big windows of the coffee shop, Satan begins freely expressing his thoughts on how you deserved to be compensated with something for all your efforts. "What would you like as a reward? I'd like to give you a present to celebrate this." If you end up saying you aren't really expecting anything, Satan just shakes his head and firmly states that he'll still find you something.
As the two of you walk back into the Devildom's streets, his eyes eventually stop on a big cat plushie behind a window holding a red heart saying "congratulations". Before you could even notice him staring at it, he exchanges a smile with you, proposing that the two of you go home for the day.
The rest of your day is relatively normal, the other brothers coming and going near you to plead for your attention for whatever reasons they have. After a while, you seclude yourself back into your room, seeking some peace and quiet for the rest of the evening.
That is, until a polite knock was heard on your door. As you get up from your bed to open the door, you are greeted by the sight of a big, fluffy stuffed cat's smile, with Satan's face soon appearing behind it.
"Surprised? I told you I was going to get you something. It might not be much, but I figured this plushie would be perfect for the occasion. Oh, is it that cute? You're smiling really big right now. Haha, I'm glad you like it. Should we try finding a name for it together?"
Asmo's way of celebrating in general is, what one could call "over the top". No matter what kind of thing you were able to achieve, the demon will insist on celebrating it with lights, glitter and music.
Not only is your achievement a perfect excuse to spend time with you, but it's also an excuse to party! And you know how much Asmo loves his partying.
"Whaaat? Of course we need to have a party! That thing you worked on was really hard, right? Then I say it's high time you relax and let your hair go down, hun. Now, leave all the planning to your favorite demon. I'll make it as perfect as me <3"
While organizing a party at home could be a good idea on its own, Asmo didn't really feel like having to deal with Lucifer's wrath regarding the clean-up once the party was over.
Therefore, he opted to book an entire reception hall instead! And since the more the merrier, his brothers were also invited to partake in the festivities. But of course, he'd be the one to stay by the guest of honor's side most of the time... such was his own reward as the party's organizer.
As long as Asmo gets to pamper you, he doesn't mind his brothers' presence. Before the party, he is the one to choose your outfit, the style of your hair, and even applies some makeup to make you glow even more than usual.
During the party, the demon makes sure to offer you your favorite drinks, take as much selfies as possible (to post them on Devilgram later), and last but not least, to steal you away from his brothers at any chance he gets.
In the middle of a dance, he invites you to follow him to the balcony for some much needed fresh air. Once outside and away from prying eyes, Asmo becomes much more caring, his hand running through your hair upon noticing how tousled it had become from all your dancing.
While the booming music keeps playing behind him, as your back touches the railings of the balcony, Asmo neatly rearranges your looks, his sunset eyes softening as they fall on your tired, yet smiling expression in front of him.
"You really were having a good time in there, hm? But I'd be lying if I said that seeing my brothers so close to you didn't make me feel a bit jealous. You don't mind me bringing you here so I can have you to myself for a little while, right? I just want to look into your eyes, just like this. And, you know... your smile looks the absolute best when it's facing me, and me only."
Beel is the softest in his ways of celebrating your achievement. No partying, no virtual gifts, and no expensive Demonus. No, once Beel knows about your success, he will be the one to come ask YOU what you'd like, so you can fully enjoy your day.
He wasn't around when the news had spread throughout the house about your achievement, only hearing about it for the first time through his brothers' group chat after playing a match of fangol. After reading the texts he had missed, he promptly made his way back to the house, and directly went to knock at your door, the bag containing his training outift still in hand.
"Hey, I heard about what you did. I'm really proud of you. If nobody's asked you yet, we could go out and find you a little gift in celebration. As long as we can stop by Madam Scream's on our way there."
For the whole duration of your trip in the streets of the Devildom, Beel feels like HE's the one who just achieved something big. His smile never leaves his face while he is by your side, his hand gently holding yours as he asks with interest about the different steps you had to take to reach your successful results.
Once at Madam Scream's, he waits for you to choose which pastries you'd fancy, even telling you that you could pick a whole box of cakes and he wouldn't touch it, adding that he'd feel "too bad if he accidently ate a gift of yours". For your happiness, he's ready to fight against his urges.
Beel manages to keep his newly acquired food rations under one arm, all so that he can keep holding your hand. Wherever you want to go, he follows you, acting up as your personal bodyguard and making sure that you can fully appreciate the aftermath of a job well done. After all, you deserved to recognize how hardworking you were on a daily basis.
After you two come back home from your trip, Beel isn't fully ready to abandon your side just yet. You're quick to notice it as you step inside the house with him in tail, and promptly invite him over to your room so that you can enjoy the rest of your pastries together. At first, he feels bad that you'd want to share something that was meant for you only, but you express how happy you'd be if you could share them with him, and his denial disappears right away.
All while he cuddles up to you as you sit between his legs on the bed, your back against his chest, you reach behind you to feed him the rest of the Madam Scream's cakes he had gifted you. Beel doesn't even notice you were giving him the last remaining sweets, too busy having you wrapped up in his arms.
"Sorry we had to stop so many times at other pastry shops on our way back. Next time, I'll make sure to eat plenty after my training so we can go to many more of your favorite places. It was nice to see you so happy when we were shopping together. I know you don't have anything else to celebrate but... Do you think we could go back tomorrow? I want to see you smile like this again."
To nobody's surprise, Belphie is the last one to hear about your achievement. What, did you expect him to suddenly wake up upon sensing you announcing to his other brothers about it? No, Belphie was trapped within the dreaming realm, and woke up late into the day before hearing about anything at all.
While he insists that it doesn't matter as long as he gets to know about the news, he is secretly disappointed in himself that he wasn't the first one to hear about it.
You had even sent him a text, seemingly all happy about announcing it to him first, but he had completely missed it by oversleeping. Now, he had to fix his mistake.
"Hey, about that thing you mentioned... Sorry for not responding when you messaged me earlier. I still want to hear about it, though. Hm? What's that smile supposed to say? It's not like I'm interested in knowing how you did it... I just want an excuse to spend time with you. Come on, let's go to the attic. You can tell me all about it once we're there."
Beware any of the other brothers who try to steal your attention while you're with Belphie, because that boy WILL growl and say that he was fully invested in hearing you tell about your achievement, before locking the door entirely so you two would be left alone.
Despite his previous words, Belphie keeps silent as he holds you close to him on the bed, your hand running through his hair as you explain about what you worked on. Belphie is a good listener, and you can bet that he'll remember any information you tell him about it, may they be big or small.
While recounting your achievement, the demon realizes that he wishes he could have been involved in this project of yours. Maybe not by taking a big part in it, but helping you a little would have made him feel even better. Hopefully next time.
That doesn't erase how proud he feels about you, of course. Belphie takes every single opportunity he can in catching you perk up any time you'd talk about your past self making progress on your project, the help that you received, and acknowledging your own skills. You were a human of worth, and it was nice to see you recognize it.
His own hand was petting your hair as he turned your face towards his, his cheeks now a bit redder than a few moments ago.
"It's kind of impressive. Before, I would have never realized that humans could be so hardworking. I guess you left kind of an impression on me, hm? Hehe, no need to pout, I was just joking. Oh, I forgot to ask, but... Did you receive proper compensation for your hard work? ... Yeah, thought so. If I kissed you now, would it be a good enough reward?"
Taglist (to be added, send me a DM, an ask, or reply to this post!): @the-wilted-amaryllis, @amistytown
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Rating: Explicit (E)
Pairing: Pre-War Stucky
Word Count: 657
Tags: Cockwarming, Porn With Feels, Established Relationship, Light Angst, Stomach Bulge
A/N: A small entry for today. I don't think I've ever written these two and the feels got to me so it's a lil' angsty. I struggled with tags but think I covered it as best I could, but if you have suggestions I'd love to hear them. I hope you enjoy. 💜
Bucky’s lips are so achingly gentle on his neck, such a savory and syrupy movement, that Steve almost questions whether or not there’s a breeze slipping in through an unclosed window. The tip of his nose is frigid, one of the few parts of his body that Bucky isn’t touching, that their one blanket isn’t covering. He pulls his foot back and tucks his icy toes between Bucky’s shins, a movement that has Bucky humming into his neck. The hum alone says what he knows Bucky would verbalize if he so wished—
“Always so damn chilly, Rogers…”
He’s never cold when Bucky touches him like this, holds him like this in the darkness of their shared bedroom. Their voices are hushed if present at all, movements unhurried, almost as if they’re afraid of the repercussions of such intimate actions even in this space that is their own. They shouldn’t be, not in the privacy of their own home. Steve sighs, reaches for Bucky’s hand and places it on his lower stomach, presses down on his hand at the same time he clenches around Bucky’s cock.
Bucky’s quick intake of breath makes Steve’s eyelids flutter shut, a cheeky grin tug at the corners of his lips.
“You punk. Quit...quit teasin’ me. That’s not what this is for,” Bucky hisses, nipping at the shell of Steve’s ear in retaliation, yet doing nothing to remove his hand from Steve’s stomach. Steve doesn’t say anything in response, merely lets his grin grown in full.
Buck is right— this isn’t what this is for. This moment is for them, is for Steve to feel something so wholly, so true, something he’ll feel for days to come. With every breath he takes, with every inhale, he feels nothing short of consumed by Bucky. He’s slicked up and pressed blessedly tight within the most intimate part of Steve’s body, but he’s everywhere when Steve fills up his lungs, expands them. That’s exactly what Steve wanted to feel— at ease yet overwhelmed.
“Y’so...fuck, Stevie. You’re so tight like this, so little here. You’re sure this is what you want? M’not hurtin’ ya?” Bucky had asked the moment the tip of his cock slipped passed the resistance of Steve’s rim after minutes of working for it. Steve had nodded his head back into Bucky’s shoulder, and once he was done moaning softly, he was quick with his reassurance—
“You’re perfect, Buck. This is everything…”
Steve isn’t sure why he likes this so much, if this is something people even do. He likes feeling Bucky this way, to this extent. Every thought is Bucky, every movement is Bucky. He feels Bucky everywhere, against the line of his back, lips on his cheek, cock in his ass. He wants it most on days he’s terribly sad, on the days where he aches for Bucky even though he’s always within arms-reach of him, always shoulder-to-shoulder with Steve.
In the moments he finds himself exhausted with the efforts he has to put forth to make it look like he isn’t madly and completely in love with his soulmate, he wants this. He wants Bucky in the purest of forms, wants him inside of him this way, his body stretched tight around the part of Bucky only he gets access to. It’s a physical comfort but an emotional one as well, his mind going blissfully blank as he’s cradled and stuffed full and doted on.
“I love you,” Bucky whispers, voice matching the breath of kisses he gifted Steve with moments ago. Steve barely reacts when he feels Bucky’s hand on his erection, knuckles running along the underside. It’s a gesture that has him clenching again, but this time Bucky doesn’t chastise him.
“I love you more,” he whispers easily, eyes falling shut once more. Bucky doesn’t even bother arguing with him anymore.
“You want me to touch you?” Bucky asks, fingertips still brushing against Steve’s dick. Steve shakes his head.
“Not...not yet, Buck. Wanna feel you like this more.”
“Whatever you want, sweetheart…”
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love, and other words (AO3)
"Maria, hey, now's not really-"
"Michael's hurt," she interrupted him, voice choked up.
3x12/13 Missing Scene
... 🌼🌼🌼 ...
"Maria, hey, now's not really-"
"Michael's hurt," she interrupted him, voice choked up.
"You're-" his voice cracked halfway through the word, so he cleared his throat, "you're with him?"
He gathered his coat, his keys and all but ran to the elevator. "Maria, how bad is it?"
"I- I don't know."
"Okay," he soothed, trying not to let his own worry seep through the cracks, "okay, I'll be there in ten minutes."
The doors opened, and he flew out, running to his car.
As he drove to the junkyard, well over the speed limit, all he could think was;
Hold on, Michael.
Please, hold on.
He ran towards Michael's trailer, calling both their names frantically.
"Over here," she called out, voice tiny and far away.
The bunker, he thought, and changed directions immediately. He wasted no time in going down the ladder, then kneeled beside Michael.
Alex's hands automatically found their way to his face, and he stroked his cheeks gently. "Michael?" No response besides a pained moan. He turned to Maria. "What happened?"
"Jones stabbed him," she told him shakily, "he made me staple it."
Alex closed his eyes and let his forehead fall forward to rest gently on Michael's clammy one. "Michael? Baby, wake up," he muttered, dropping a kiss to his temple and lingering there.
Michael groaned, and Alex pulled back to look at his face.
His eyes fluttered open. Alex let out a relieved breath, and nearly choked on it.
"Alex?" Michael whispered, voice weak.
"I'm here. I'm here."
Michael slumped further into his arms, and Alex wrapped them tightly around him. "You're okay?"
Michael hummed, and tilted his chin up, expecting a kiss. Alex felt his lips twitch up into a helpless smile and bent down to oblige him.
He kept the kiss light and short, mindful of Maria, but pulling away took serious effort, especially when Michael chased his lips unconsciously.
"Come on," he addressed them both, "let's get out of here."
"Sanders," Michael gasped out, stopping abruptly a few feet away from the car, "where is he? Did he-"
"Michael," Alex cut him off, "what are you talking about?"
"Jones attacked Sanders," Michael told him desperately, naked fear painting every word.
Alex's heart squeezed in his chest. "Maybe Maria can-"
"No!" Michael shook his head fervently, "no, 0 take him."
Alex leaned away from him, eyebrows raised. "What's going on?"
"Please, just stay with him? Take care of him?"
Alex eyed him seriously. He wanted to refuse, but that same fear he'd seen a few minutes ago, when Michael remembered Sanders was hurt, was back on his face, and this time, the fear was for him.
"Okay," he said, even though leaving him was the last thing he wanted to do, even though he knew his place was by Michael's side. "Okay."
Michael exhaled roughly, and swayed forward to press a short, bruising kiss to his lips. "Thank you."
He smiled, crooked and a bit cocky. "Always am."
Alex rolled his eyes, but then he smiled. "Call me when you can?"
Michael was about to turn and walk over to where Maria was waiting for him, but Alex stopped him with a hand on his arm. He then used that grip to turn him back to face him, and hauled him into his arms in a too tight hug.
He heard Michael let out a sharp hiss, but then two shaking arms came up around him, and Alex let himself bask in the closeness.
I love you, he thought but didn't say. I love you more than anything.
He wanted to say the words, acutely aware of how uncertain their lives were at this point, and how there was a possibility that they might not make it through this night.
But then Michael pulled away, and he smiled at Alex, and it made him realize, with certainty, that when they said the words, it needed to be for them; because they were ready.
Not because they were forced by the circumstances.
He knew Michael loved him, and Michael knew Alex loved him back.
There would be time to say the actual words, but for now, that was enough.
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Sohn Youngjae/Eric - Let's Play Pretend
dom! pizza boy! Eric x camgirl! reader
Warnings: roleplay, unprotected sex, cum swallowing, spitting, creampie, squirting, overstimulation, daddy kink, choking, bad porn dialogue
Kind of a continuation from Incognito?
You and Eric decide to film a little something for your channel; your own take on a popular porn trope.
"Pizza delivery for Miss Rubi?" Eric (or Karson) asks as you swing the door open, eyes growing wide as your body is revealed, clad only in a tight crop top that barely covers your breasts and tiny little g-string.
"That's me! How much do I owe you?" you ask sweetly, fluttering your eyelashes, subtly pushing your chest out for him to ogle.
"It's t-twenty dollars, miss," the poor boy stumbles over his words, eyes bulging at the sight of your pierced nipples ever so present through the thin material of your shirt.
"Let me just get my wallet, why don't you come on in?" you offer, pulling him over the threshold before he could even reply, locking the door behind him. He stands stock-still, pizza box in his clammy hands as you shoot him another sultry smile, swaying your hips as you walk into the room to grab your wallet.
He heaves a sigh of relief when you step out of sight, dropping the pizza box onto your counter, and mentally wills his growing chub to go away. He can't help himsself, he's had a long day of pizza making and deliveries, and his last order of the day was you. He can't complain though, you're the prettiest customer he's had in a long time, and when you answered the door like that, his mind began to wander.
"I'm so sorry sweetie but it seems like I've lost my wallet... is there any other way I could pay you?" you step back into the living room so quietly that Eric jumps at your sudden reappearance.
He gulps loudly. You're approaching him slowly and deliberately, a particular look in your eyes. He can't believe this is happening, and he would absolutely love to let it happen, but he needs to get back to work to finish his shift. "You don't have to, it's okay. It'll be on the house just this once," he smiles, though it looks more like a grimace, with all the effort he's using to not freak out with horniness.
"Oh, but I insist, Karson," you purr, sending shivers down his spine when you trail a long fingernail up his sinewy arms after a glance at his nametag. Without waiting for a response, you drop to your knees before him, and Eric swears out loud. You palm his growing bulge through his shorts and giggle at how conflicted he looks.
"Just let me help you out with your little problem, and you can be on your way, okay?" you smirk, pulling his shorts and boxers down together, releasing his aching cock. You stare for a moment at his massive girth, already salivating. "I don't remember ordering an extra large meat..."
Eric's eyes darken as you begin lapping at his length, kitten licking all over his shaft and tip, captivated by the way his cock looks so massive in your dainty hands. He groans as you wrap your lips around his tip, suckling and rubbing it with your tongue as you stroked the rest of him with both hands. "Fuck, baby just like that," he sighs, running a hand through his cotton-candy hair. You giggle around his length, grabbing his hand to wind it in your hair, making him push your head down to sink further on his cock.
"Fucking hell, baby, you're such a cockslut aren't you?" he laughs. Looking up at him, you nod with some difficulty, since more than half of his dick is lodged in your throat now, but you manage. You begin bobbing your head up and down, producing the filthiest slobbering and gagging noises, but it's music to Eric's ears. He tugs on your hair, controlling your speed, but eventually he just uses it as leverage, fucking your throat however he likes. The warmth and wetness of your throat is too much for him, and his orgasm is approaching all too soon.
"Babygirl I'm gonna cum, you need to pull off. Baby? Oh fuck you want it don't you? Fine," he growls when you refuse to budge, continuing to choke yourself on his cock, so he keeps rocking his hips until he feels it coming. He releases down your throat with a loud moan, pulling off immediately to jerk himself some more, shooting hot white cum all over your pretty face and neck. You relish the taste of his cum, and the way it feels on your skin and in your mouth. You keep your mouth open to show him just how much he spilled into you, and he swears lowly at how filthy you look.
Eric grabs your jaw and spits into your mouth, and makes you swallow everything. Once you're done, you lick your lips and show him that it's all gone, and he grins proudly at you. You smile back up at him, reaching up to languidly stroke his rapidly hardening length again. "You're still hard, daddy," you giggle, wiping the cum off your face with the back of your hand.
"Yeah, gonna help me out with that, babygirl?" You nod eagerly, before getting up and dragging him over to the couch. Eric quickly sheds his uniform, and you're about to strip too, but Eric has other plans. He sits you on his lap, his hard cock digging into your ass, and spreads your legs wide before pulling your tshirt over your breasts, bunching it up. His hand deftly slips under your soaked g-string, rubbing at your wet folds, and his other starts massaging your tit while he leaves sloppy kisses and hickeys down your neck.
You throw your head back in pleasure, your hand coming up to tug at his cotton-candy hair, squirming on his cock when he plunges his fingers into your heat. "So tight, babygirl, I thought a whore like you would be looser," he chuckles, scissoring his fingers inside you to stretch you out to take his cock. He pulls your tit up, bringing your nipple to his mouth, running his tongue over the cold metal bar, making you moan loudly. He continues to suck at it while he fingers you, and his other hand rubs harshly at your clit.
All your squirming and writhing only makes his cock harder, leaking copious amounts of precum down your ass, and you can't wait to have it inside you, but it seems like Eric wants to torture you before you get his cock inside you. His fingers pump in and out of you so vigorously that your g-string is completely soaked with all the juices that have leaked out.
"Karson! Daddy! Too much, nghh!" you whine. He keeps rubbing your clit so harshly that your orgasm takes you by surprise, spraying clear liquid all over his hands and the couch and even the coffee table. Eric laughs as he takes in the sight of your heaving body, pussy still trickling down between his legs and onto the poor couch. You're dazed, slumped over and twitching in pleasure, so he takes the opportunity to slip his length inside you, ripping your ruined panties clean off, making you yelp.
"Oh daddy wait, wait it's too much-ah!" you whimper as his length fills you up completely. No matter how many times you've fucked, on and off camera, it still takes you by surprise, so it works especially well when you're roleplaying for your camshow, like right now. Without warning, Eric starts thrusting his hips up into you, and pulling you back down in time with every thrust. Loud moans rip from your throat with every snap of his hips and every jab at your g-spot. You're shaking from overstimulation, still far too sensitive from your last orgasm, that you can't do anything besides letting Eric use you like a cocksleeve.
Your body jolts with every bounce, your tits jiggling deliciously on display, and your face utterly lewd and fucked out, eyes rolled back into your head and drool dripping down your neck. His hands wander upwards to fondle your breasts again, making you bounce on his cock yourself, and your hand wanders down between your legs to rub your swollen clit again. You're so sensitive that it hurts, and you feebly attempt to push his hands away, but he remains firm, circling your throbbing clit with his rough, calloused fingertips.
"Daddy, please, I can't, it's too much," you mewl, squirming to try and avoid his touches, and yet, you continue to ride him, your body moving on autopilot. "Okay baby I'll stop," Eric agrees, instantly halting his movements, and the sudden pause has your lust-riddled brain confused. Eric just sits there, cock buried deep inside you, casual as ever, and part of you is impressed by his self-control. But the other part of your brain that's horny and desperate wants to yell at him for torturing you like this.
"Kars- daddy what are you doing?"
"You said you couldn't take it anymore, so we're taking a break, doll."
A whine of frustration escapes your lips, and you writhe around, wiggling your ass to get him to fuck you again. Meanwhile Eric is trying his hardest to hide his grin, completely enjoying your little tantrum, how adorably frustrated you look despite being covered in cum and almost completely nude.
"But I was so close~" you groan, shifting your hips, trying to restart a rhythmic bounce on his dick again, but his large hands encircle your waist to keep you still. Eric grips your chin, making you look him dead in the eyes, and the darkness in his eyes makes your breath hitch. He doesn't seem so playful anymore, and you want, no, need him to fuck your brains out.
"Sure you want it, baby girl? Once I do it, I won't stop until I'm finished with you," he asks, his gravelly voice deeper than ever. To the viewers, it just seems like the skinny, dorky pizza boy is finally getting the upper hand in this situation, but to the both of you, there's a deeper understanding and agreement that Eric is going to be very rough with you, and that you consented to it.
Mustering a firm nod, you smile at him. "Yes, daddy."
Eric grins back at you, before manhandling you onto the couch, face down in the cushions and ass up in the air without pulling out completely. You let out a surprised moan at the feeling of his cock pressing impossibly deeper inside you with this new angle, and his cock twitches at the lewd sound. He sets a punishing pace, pummeling his hips harshly into you without warning, and filthy moans and curses fall from your lips with every thrust.
You don't have the strength to do anything, simply letting him take over and use you like a cocksleeve, ramming his massive cock into your g-spot over and over until you're seeing stars, drool and tears trickling down onto the pillows. He's fucking you so hard and so quickly that the mixture of your cum and his precum has turned frothy and is leaking out of your abused cunt, down your thighs and onto the couch.
He reaches up wrap his hand around your throat, making you gasp. "You're close aren't you baby? Come on, cum for me," he rumbles, tightening his grip, making you wheeze. The pleasure is unbearable, the lack of oxygen rendering you unable to think, and your entire body shakes with the force of your second orgasm, pussy clenching so tight that he hisses in pain, but continues to fuck you through your clenching walls. All you can think of is how deliciously your pussy aches, with the graze of his massive cock inside your straining walls.
He's so close, cumming inside you soon after, rocking his hips slower as your pussy milks him dry, and it feels like your tummy is bloated from what seems like gallons of his seed filling you up. There's so much that some of it manages to leak out, his movements pushing some of it back out. He's exhausted, and wants to just flop on top of you with his cock still inside, but he knows the viewers love to see the aftermath, so he begrudgingly pulls out.
Eric pulls out with a low groan, eliciting a soft moan from you, and watches as the cum gushes out of your gaping pussy, trailing down your thighs and staining the couch. That was going to be a bitch to clean, but it'll be all worth it when the tips and donations for tonight's show come rolling in. Hell, you might even be able to buy a whole new couch with that money.
The show ends with Eric tucking himself back into his pants, straightening his clothes and stealing a slice of pizza from your order before walking off-screen; leaving you a dazed, grinning lump of mess on the ruined couch. Once the cameras cut though, he runs back to you, sweeping your hair out of your face and kissing you softly, making sure you're okay. You return his smile, exhausted but content, and he helps you clean up in the bath. Afterwards, you both finish the now cold pizza and decide to take a quick nap, grimacing at the ruined couch, agreeing to throw it out later that night.
You're glad that Eric has now warmed up to being more active on your shows, and even ditched the mask he used to wear, now comfortable with showing his face online. His appearance has definitely helped boost your views and fanbase, but most importantly, he makes your job even more fun and comfortable, sending you to cloud 9 and bringing you back down to earth everytime with sweet, gentle aftercare. He goes along with your ideas so willingly and even pitches some suggestions of his own, and you constantly find yourself feeling grateful that you've got him by your side, both online and offline.
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If your orders are open, could we have a big brother scenario like Mikey and Hanma, but for Sanzou and little shit Kisaki? (if you write to him) if not, fine. Thank you :3
Hi! I don't really write these two characters as I'm not familliar with their personalities but I gave it a try, here you go!
A/N: It could a bit OOC so read at your own risk!🦊
Being their younger sibling | Tokyo Revengers Headcanons
Characters: Sanzu/Akashi haruchiyo and Kisaki Tetta
Baji Keisuke and Ken Ryuguji/Draken
Sano Manjiro/Mikey and Hanma Shuji
to be honest, he probably don't give much fucks about his siblings. he's distant both physically and emotionally for some personal reasons or just due to some drama between your family
the type who prefers to be outside than stay at home just to avoid all of you. probably ignores you too whenever you'd come accross him both in and outside the house
you're probably really scared of him too because he's just so stoic and indifferent one moment then loud and a bit psychotic the next, but there's still a part of you that wants to get close to him
becuz duh he's your brother, and you actually feel a bit jelous when he spent time with his delinquent friends but couldn't even spare you a glance
he doesn't really care though, in short, even if he does notice that you want to get close to him he won't bother trying but he wouldn't stop you either
and IF you do managed to worm your way in his heart even just a little, i don't think he would be that bad
he's probably awkward with you becuz he never had a proper/normal brother as a role model growing up, so he's clueless about how to deal with you
he'll pass his chores and errands to you yeah but he'll try to be much more approachable instead of just ignoring you completely
he'll try to interact or communicate with you bit by bit
it'll be just small things, but there would be an effort on his part at least
like returning your greetings or giving you thanks for making food, things like that
he'll probably try his best to be more attentive when it comes to you too, like knowing when you're in a bad mood, or when you're not feeling well
though he won't be able to comfort you in the usual way like taking care of you and showing affections, he's not familliar with that
but he'll still try to help and look after you in his own, awkward ways
if you're sick, you'll find several medicines and vitamins just sitting outside your door
if you thank him for it he'll deny it was him and act all pissed lmao
you're not in a good mood? he's still a little shit so he will either just bother and annoy you more
or he'll try to get out of your way to avoid worsening your mood
no in between
he'll probably turn a bit soft on you too like if he somehow get angry and raised his voice, he'll suddenly feel guilty when he see you flinch and cower a bit from him
he won't hurt you though, i mean he can but the worst he'll do to you is shove you when he's really mad while telling himself that hurting you would be useless because you're effing weak
when it comes to your safety on the other hand
you being dragged in his delinquent life or crime businesses doesn't really cross his mind much
like he can't find the need to worry about it because you're not involved with his life completely and he never revealed to anyone that he has siblings anyway
but if you do get hurt because of him, i can see him just leaving
like, he'll just walk out of your life and cut all his ties and connections with you
that would hurt you and he's aware of that fact, but he doesn't care
it's just that for him that's the best thing to do in order to make sure that you'll be safe
that you'll never be harmed again because of him
all in all, he just really have issues but he cares
he might be a villain in someone's story but i think he can be a really good brother (kinda)
he's probably one of the most reliable brother out there (kinda)
like, you're having trouble with anything,
money? he's got you, but he'll nag you about spending it
school works? he'll be willing to stay up late with you and he'll make sure you finish all of it with his help
he's not a bad brother, but that doesn't make him the best either
he's rather manipulative even to you, his own sibling
he can make you do something with just a bit of talk and he never hesitates to use the fact that he helps you with things most of the times to make you obey
he's really good with words that even if you know that he's up to no good, you just can't stop him
he's really secretive too when it comes to his personal business that you can't help but think that he's really doing something suspiscious
if you try to pry though, you'll receive an ear-bleeding lecture from him and he'll be willing to threaten you to mind your business
he do it partly because he can't let you ruin his plans, but also because he can't have you getting involved with the crimes he's planning to commit (crimes, as in plural)
he's not the most affectionate either, and he spends more time outside than he does at home
but he never neglects you nor ignore your presence at all. he actually spends time with you and try to form a bond
he's a bit hard to communicate with but he knows how to listen and actually deal with you
that's why even though he has a really shitty and ugly side, you still get along well with him
he's also good at comforting you, but in a more hard and educative way
like you fell sick because you slept with the windows open and he'll slap that fact on your face non-stop while feeding you the medicine he bought
he'll also start to pass by your room before he goes to sleep just to make sure you had the windows close after that
you're not in the mood because you got a bad grade at class? he'll sit with you and go over the test questions repeatedly and if you finally managed to get the lesson right, he'll give you a gift as a piece of reward be it your favorite snack or something you want but can't afford
he's also not the most protective brother, but if someone did decide to mess with you or harm you
that someone would end up dead (i dont make the rules, thats just how he is👁👁)
he'll probably start to be distant with you though when he finally play his plan and it could be for several reasons
but it's mostly because he knows that there's heavy consequences for his actions and that he's taking a gamble with everything on the line
and he doesn't want any of it to affect you.
like Sanzu, i can see him choosing to just walk out of your life at some point to continue with his plans and not have you involved with him
in conclusion, he's a responsible brother and cares for you. but he's not willing to let go of his ambitions for your sake.
Note: no ya'll i'm not a Kisaki fan💀 i just really think he'd be like this as a brother
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S/O with blood kink
Fem! reader x slashers
Michael Myers This man is the DEFINITION of blood kink. Fuck he loves to fuck with blood in between, be it yours, be it his, be it others, blood blood and blood. He's attracted to that kind of thing, he'll choke you, bite you, he doesn't mind fucking you while you're menstruating too. This is his thing. There's something very artistic about a body covered in blood or maybe it's just insane. He will lick the blood, rub it, this pain awakens the sadistic side of him that normally lingers in the curtains of indifference. And fuck, just seeing you covered in blood, depending on the situation, he's fucking hard.
Vincent Sinclair Will he have to hurt you? No, dude. He's not like Bo, he kills and does what he does for art, you're his muse, but he doesn't want to hurt you. It might even make some small cuts and record you, but it won't do anything too surprising. He thinks it's strange that you want to do this kind of thing with the blood of the victims, because he honestly doesn't feel much about blood, and it's even a little fascinating the way you stare at him soaked in blood, but when he sees your eyes rolling and how attracted you are, he doesn't stop thinking how beneficial it can be. He doesn't mind fucking you in your period either, but if it's bothering you or hurting you - in the bad way - he'll refuse and wait. (It's kind of attractive that darker side of you too, he's quiet but he can't deny it.)
Bo Sinclair Okay, that was surprising. He didn't think you could like that sort of thing and now he's excited. "How do you feel knowing I just ripped that guy's guts out and came to fuck you? Tell me" He's going to try out what other bizarre fetishes you have, he wants to try them all after this one, fuck now he has blood kink. He will definitely cut you and love to make you bleed just to lick and kiss later, but you won't cut him, not at all. He's the dominant one, don't forget that. He's going to tease the fuck out verbally, and purposefully soak himself in blood just to see you spread your legs so harmlessly, so submissive and crazy about him. He feels like he can come just by seeing the way you bite your lip.
Lester Sinclair What do you like? He's shocked and it's going to be very dramatic, he demands a better explanation. Not that he can't take blood or anything, he's always soaked in animal blood and he's used to cutting them up, but he doesn't understand the part where one of you gets hurt. He doesn't want to hurt you and he certainly doesn't want to hurt himself, so you guys need to come to a deal. Returning to the topic of animal blood....does it? You're so weird, but he doesn't care. It's a relief if you agree with animal blood, but if you don't, this guy will be very sorry to use his knife on you and might cut the mood a little, until he sees the way your eyes roll. Fuck if he has to get stinky and bloody, you moaning and begging it's pure music, fuck it.
Brahms Heelshire No, no fucking way, not even dreaming. He won't cut you, he won't cut himself, if you want that bloody show, he can kill the grocery-boy, or you can call someone to the mansion and he does it. But he doesn't want to hurt you and he hates to feel pain. He thinks you're really weird because you likes that kind of thing, it's different and bizarre, but he's obsessed with you, so still quite attractive. Seeing you so turned on by him makes him go into ecstasy too, but the idea of hurting you or him remains a big no. It will need a lot of persuasion. Won't fuck you in your period.
Thomas Hewitt He will look for sincerity and real desire in your eyes, holding you with his big palms. When he has that confirmation he will think for a moment, needing more detailed explanations on how he would do this. You're his first relationship, he doesn't want to let you down, so whatever it is he'll try for you. He can hurt himself, he actually constantly does it, but he's going to take a lot of effort to cut you, but when he does and sees your reaction, fuck. This man is a rosy mess, he's so hard and he's not fur blood, it's because of you. He's constantly full of animal and human blood, so he feels confident that you're attracted to that sort of thing after he's tried it. Also 100% would have sex with you menstruating, but if it hurts or bothers you, he will stop and take care of you. (Sure has some blood kink, seeing the blood of others running down your body, but he hasn't figured it out yet.)
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Breaking Point - Intimacy
Pairing: Hockey Player Eijiro Kirishima x f!Reader
Warnings: Swearing, discussions of sex and intimacy (implied mention of non-consensual sex), minors DNI, body image problems, body objectification mentions.
Contains: Fluff, if you watch/like fairy tail you might be in for a fun surprise
Summary: Dinner, hair dye, and discussions of intimacy in a bathroom. Good times.
A/N: Part two of the Breaking Point series. Friendly reminder that this is a quirkless AU, all main characters are at least juniors in college. Thanks <3
Other Parts Below:
Breaking Point - Part One - Locked Out
Breaking Point - Part ? - Do More (This is just out-of-order smut for the time being)
After asking a handful of times if there was anything he could help you with, the man you offered dinner to finally took a seat on one of the two stools in your kitchen, watching as you poured all the ingredients together and brought the stove to a simmer.
"So, what's it supposed to look like?" You asked, gesturing to his orange hair.
"What kind of red?"
"Bright red, like, fruit punch."
You gave the dinner a quick stir and told him you'd be back in a moment. It didn't take you long to find your box of miscellaneous hair dye you kept tucked away in the bottom of your closet.
"I've got this. Not sure if it's the right shade but..." You held up the tube of Matrix dye. "It's not a lot but I bet it'd cover your head just fine."
If you thought his small grin was cute, his full-blown smile was more than enough to make you grin back. "This is actually exactly what I use! You're sure you don't mind? I can pay you for it."
"That's not necessary. Don't worry about it."
Except, he did look worried about it. "You've been really nice. Letting me shower, offering dinner, and now this... I don't feel right accepting all these things and not repaying you in some way." He set the tube down on the counter, insisting he could just wait until his roommates let him back in.
You thought for a moment before settling on, "We can call it even if you can get me down an extra bowl from that top shelf so I don't have to go climbing." He stood with no hesitation and was able to reach the additional bowls with no effort at all.
"Too easy. We aren't nearly even."
"Then maybe you could tell me your name?" You scooped the dinner into the bowls he'd gathered.
"Shit." He muttered, "You let me in here, been so nice and-and I didn't- I'm so sorry! I'm Eijiro Kirishima." He offered you his hand but you just handed him a full bowl of food with a smile instead.
"You don't have to be sorry, Kirishima. I never told you mine either." You led him to the small dining table, telling him yours in return. There were only two chairs and the top of the table was filled with textbooks, binders, and your laptop which probably needed to be charged.
Quickly scrambling to clear some room, Kirishima took your bowl wordlessly so you could use both hands. Setting them both down when space was available and taking a seat in one of the chairs that look entirely too small for him to actually be comfortable.
"Y/N." He spoke your name after you both were seated, rolling it around like an experiment on his tongue and you weren't too sure if you were willing to admit how good it sounded coming from him. "It's nice to meet you, Y/N." You responded in kind but then quickly dug into dinner. "Still aren't even though, if anything, us introducing ourselves just cancels each other out."
Eventually, you agreed over dinner that you would think of something he could do to repay the kindness and let him know but for the time being, he'd drop the subject, and effortlessly dove into another. "So, why the extensive dye collection?'
"I just like changing my hair when the mood strikes me, even this is new." You twirled the end of your own freshly dyed hair. "The red was for a convention I went to over the summer. I really didn't wanna buy a wig." And you certainly didn't regret it since the heat during the con had been scorching on its own, a wig would have been horrible.
A smile spread across his face. "You cosplay?" It took you a beat but you gave a single nod of confirmation. It wasn't that you were ashamed to admit how much you loved going to conventions and dressing up but you were hesitant to talk about it with people you didn't know well. Too many people were critics with harsh beliefs, or loved to make fun of body types in cosplay or, a personal favorite, enjoyed objectifying those in the cosplays.
Kirishima laughed but not in a judgemental kind of way. "I've been going to conventions since I was twelve, I usually cosplay as the comic book hero Crimson Riot but I had to change it up last year 'cause I accidentally bought a bottle of dye... pastel pink. I literally had my shoes back on ready to buy the right color when my friend reminded me of the con later in the week. I dunno if you want anime but we went as Natsu and Grey from-"
"From Fairy Tail." You couldn't help the grin as you plucked the framed photo that stood proudly next to your TV handing it over to him. Huddled together in front of the large hotel stairs, you and two of your closest friends, Setsuna and Nejire were all smooching faces against Nejire's little sister. "We were supposed to have a Lucy too but our friend had a family emergency."
"This is amazing though! You must have spent forever on that Erza armor!"
"I was pretty proud of it."
"And this little kid looks like they're having the time of their lives. Little wings too."
"Hado," You pointed out the woman cosplaying Mirajane, "That's her little sister. She begged and begged to go and we finally let her. This was her first convention."
"So, is costume design what you wanna do then? Your major, I mean."
You set the picture back in its rightful place and gathered the empty bowls while explaining, "Nope, it's just a hobby. My goal is to eventually be a counselor for school-aged children. I'm a psych major." Kirishima hurried after you, insisting on washing the dishes while you put away leftovers.
"Hey me too! But, I wanna go into social work eventually. What courses are you in this semester?"
"Well, for psychology specifically I'm taking social and personality on Mondays and Wednesdays and then-"
"Developmental on Tuesdays and Thursdays at noon, right? I thought you looked familiar! I'm in social and developmental with you."
Shit, he was? The classes were massive lectures and you really didn't pay much attention to anyone in them. "Don't feel bad. We have what, like 75 people in each?" He grabbed the tube of dye from the counter and changed the subject again. "You're sure you don't mind me doing this here? I know it's gettin' kinda late..."
"I'm staying up until my roomie gets home anyways and I have no idea when that'll be. It's not a big deal, really. But, I am a little curious, why are you locked out?"
He rubbed the back of his neck with a nervous laugh. "Well, you see, I uh, got a little mad." You'd only known Kirishima for about an hour now but it was odd to imagine him as anything more than a little annoyed. "I have this math test coming up and I'm shit at the subject. So, I locked myself in my room to study, threw the bleach on my head, and got to work. And then my roommates decided to have their significant others over. They're not a quiet bunch. I asked nicely for them to keep it down, I asked nicely again, and the third time I wasn't so nice. They sorta shoved me out the front door and locked it."
You gathered a couple more old towels and laid them out on the black and white tile of your bathroom floor while he finished his story, "That's kinda harsh. You were just trying to study." Grabbed the developer and started mixing the proper amounts of each into a bowl.
"It's probably because they don't think I'm actually studying. Their idea of it is cramming three hours before an exam and anyone who does it differently is just wasting their time. I barely made it through my first year like that."
"Your friends seem like jerks."
He shrugged. "They are but they're my jerks." You motioned for him to sit on the edge of the tub while you finished stirring the goopy mixture together.
There was going to be barely enough room for the both of you to fit in the bathroom but with him sitting, you bet you could make it work.
"Oh no! You've done so much already! You're not gonna actually put the color on too, I can do that!"
"But... I really like dying people's hair." It was true, you found it very relaxing, but Kirishima's shoulders were ridged. His back went instantly straight and it was painfully obvious how uncomfortable he was with the very idea, "But I shouldn't have assumed that would be okay." You added in a hurry. "I'm really sorry about that. I'll, uh, be out in the living room when you're done." You left the bowl of dye on the counter and left the room without another word, kicking yourself nearly the whole way down the hall.
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
You muttered while putting away the box of hair products back in your closet under your row of shoes. Re-shelving the things you'd knocked over in your haste earlier.
You busied yourself further by scrolling through your phone, anything you could do to distract yourself from the awkward situation down the hall! Then an idea popped into your head. You opened the text chain between your best friend and roomie. The last message received this morning at 10:47 AM:
Suka: Gonna try to be home by 9.
You: Yay! Dinner?
Suka: If you're cooking, I'll never turn it down.
It was nearing midnight and there was still no word from her. You tried to call but it rang through to voicemail and so you pulled up the texts again.
You: Still coming back tonight? I made your fav. Gimme a heads up and I'll make sure it's warm for ya!
"Y/N?" Kirishima's voice carried through the apartment and you were almost too nervous to go see what he needed but, with your gathered courage, you slipped your phone into your back pocket and went to the bathroom door.
"Yea?" You stood at a comfortable distance in the hall.
"I always have a problem getting my roots totally covered and you said you like dying hair so I thought that maybe you could just check and see if I got them? It's hard when it's your own head, ya know?" His posture was still too stiff for your liking but he was the one asking.
Kirishima managed to just it mostly covered, clearly, this wasn't his first time dying his hair but there were a few spots that could be better saturated. You took up the brush and painted the color before running your fingers through his hair just to make sure nothing else was missed, nearly breathing a sigh of relief when his shoulders finally relaxed.
You didn't have gloves, meaning your hands were going to be stained a wonderful shade of pink for the next couple of days but that didn't really bother you. You brushed back some of his hair away from his forehead and froze.
A throaty moan bubbled out from Kirishima making your hands instantly still in his hair and his fly to cover his mouth. You had no idea it was even possible for a guy as large as him to look so flustered, so utterly embarrassed.
"Y/N! Fucking hell! I'm so sorry. I didn't -"
"I didn't realize, Kirishima! Shit! I'm really sor-"
"- make it fuckin' awkward. That's why I didn't know if I should let you in the first place but ya look so sad -"
Both of you paused your rambled apologies, cheeks as red as the dye on his head, and then simultaneously busted out laughing.
"Okay, okay," You were starting to catch your breath again, "I think you're all covered but I wanna make sure it's off your face, is it okay if I do that?"
His throat bobbed and shoulders went tight again but, "Yeah, I'll, uh, be more careful this time. 'M really sorry again."
"It really doesn't bother me, Kirishima, I promise. I don't take it personally."
You took up a washcloth and started to clean up around his ears and neck where the dye had touched his skin. "I barely let anyone mess with my hair 'cause of it." He admitted, "Feels so nice but, damn, it's embarrassing."
"Can I be blunt?" He gave you permission. You explained about the spa trip you'd gone on with your friends when you were sixteen, how it was your very first time getting a massage, "This woman's hands dug into my back and I made a noise that was so unbelievably suggestive, I was mortified!" He chuckled, "Yeah, now it's funny, but sixteen-year-old me was in a panic! The masseuse was kind though, she told me we cannot help what makes us feel good and that the difference is in the intent." He craned his neck back while you wiped his forehead, watching you closely, "My intent is just to dye your hair, that doesn't change the fact you like your hair played with though. You can let out a moan and enjoy the feel of it but it's far different than if I was doing it for... intimate reasons."
"Can I be blunt?" He was still looking up at you when you gave him the okay, "This feels kinda intimate."
"Of course it does!" You smiled at the pink washing over his cheeks again. "You're being vulnerable, sitting in my bathroom with my hands all in your hair! But, you're obviously comfortable and relaxed to some extent, which, thank you? Ha. Something can be intimate without being sexual. If it makes you any better, I'd feel the same if the roles were reversed."
"But, intimacy is a part of sex..."
You weren't too sure if that was a statement or a question but responded the only way you knew how. "Yeah, that's not always true. It's really sweet you think that way though." Kirishima furrowed his brow as if to say he didn't understand. "Alright, what do you believe intimacy to be, Kirishima?"
He thought for a moment, carefully choosing his words, "I think it's a feeling of closeness and or familiarity to a person, place, or situation."
"Right. So, if you and I, two people who are arguably a tad more than strangers, fucked right now, how would that be intimate?"
Pink rapidly turned bright red at your suggestion but that didn't stop him from adding to the scenario, swinging his legs around so he was facing you now while you leaned over the tub to wash your hands. "Because it is an act of being close, of gaining that familiarity and learning about someone on a deeper level."
You backed up, coming to rest on the closed toilet, knees bumping against his. "And what if it wasn't wanted?"
"But why would- oh." It seemed what you were leading to finally sank in. "It all depends on intent." Circling back around to your original point.
"Well," He gave a half-hearted chuckle, "It's the weekend and I'm still learning new things."
Your phone chiming was a welcomed distraction to clear the awkwardness out of the room. You pulled it from your pocket with still wet hands. "Everything okay?" He asked.
"Yeah, sorta. My roommate has been having some family stuff going on. She was supposed to be back tonight but she's just now leaving, it's like a two-hour drive and she's just letting me know. I don't really like sleeping when I know someones suppose to be home but they aren't."
He nodded, looking down at his feet, "But, come on, you've got forty minutes on that, and sitting on the tub's edge the whole time will just give you a sore back." You held your hands out to help him up, "I know from experience."
"They aren't gonna leave you locked out all night, are they?"
It was close to two in the morning. Kirishima had time to wash the dye from his hair and even dry it. Lucky man didn't even have any breakage from the bleach though he insisted he had you to thank for that.
Now you two sat on your sofa, a faded blue but still so damn comfortable Itsuka refused to get rid of it and you couldn't blame her. A bowl of popcorn separated you two watching a randomly selected episode of Fairy Tail though neither of you were paying much attention. Too busy chatting about classes and other various (more light-heart than the bathroom) topics.
He'd gone to check on his roommates once after his hair was washed and again after your first episode of the show. Both times, you stood in your own doorway watching to see if he'd be granted access and both times he came moseying back like a lost puppy, an apology on his lips for taking up more of your time.
You'd even given him your phone to try and call them but they weren't responding to that either.
Kirishima was going to make it up to you somehow, he promised that at least a dozen times now, he just didn't know how yet.
"Probably not. Unless they fell asleep and just left the door locked which could have happened. If, whenever you kick me out they still aren't opening up, I'll just go over to a buddy's or my cousin's house and crash on his sofa for the night. No big deal."
"It's already two though, are they going to still be awake?"
"Probably not." He laughed, "One likes to go to sleep as early as possible so, he'd probably threaten to blast my face off or something if I wake him up and my cousin, well, he's had a long weekend helping his girlfriend out back in her hometown. If he's back, he's probably dead tired."
"Well, if for some reason they don't-"
"No." He cut you off.
"Listen, I've known you for," He glanced at the green numbers of your clock, "Four-ish hours now, and that's plenty of time for me to know you're way too kind a person for your own good! You're gonna say if they don't let you stay, just come back here."
You folded your arms and put on a pretend pout. "And what would be so wrong with that? Have a not been a good host thus far?"
"You've been a magnificent host thus far! Really! And have I mentioned how thankful I am? Because I really am! But, I can't actually stay the night. I feel like that's crossing a line that I just shouldn't do."
"And I can't let you just have no place to sleep for the night! What kinda friend would I be if I let you do that?"
He stared at you for a minute, a slow grin tugging at the corners of his mouth, "Friend huh?"
"I mean, I guess, what kind of person would I be?"
"No, no, friends, I'd like that."
Both your heads turned when a key turned in your deadbolt. About damn time Itsuka got home! You'd already started reheating dinner for her just in case she was hungry even though you assumed she would probably head straight for the shower and then off to bed.
"Hey, babe! How was the drive?"
Her backpack fell to the ground with a heavy thud and she flipped her copper ponytail over her shoulder.
"Long, boring, there's nothing good on the radio after midnight." She complained and then finally looked up. You were ready to introduce Kirishima, your new friend but,
It would seem they were already acquainted.
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Can you do a nsfw alphabet, with any slasher<3? Anyways thank you, take your time.
⊱⋅ ────── ❴ • ✿ • ❵ ────── ⋅⊰
Nsfw alphabet with Vincent Sinclair.
✿Note:It's my first time writing something like this so I don't know if it looks really good, but I hope you like it.
⊱⋅ ────── ❴ • ✿ • ❵ ────── ⋅⊰
✿A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)
Vincent is a sweet and cute boy to you, so afterward he just wants to take care of you.
Did you like it? Does it hurt somewhere? Did I hurt you? Are you hungry? Do you want a drink? Do you want to take a shower? Do you want a massage?
Vincent will make sure you have everything you need and that you are fine.
If you just want to sleep, Vincent will hug you and kiss your face tenderly, whispering sweet words to you.
° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° °
✿B = Body part (Their favorite body part of yours)
He loves your every little detail, you're his muse, he thinks you're beautiful.
And his art shows that a lot, he sketches you and creates sculptures with every detail done with great dedication.
He loves every part of you so much, so he can't choose.
° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° °
✿C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically…I’m a disgusting person)
Vincent likes to end up inside you, but if you say no, he would end up anywhere you wanted.
° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° °
✿D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)
I think before you guys had an official relationship his feelings for you were his dirty secret, the way he loved you, the desire he felt for you, his desire to feel your soft skin against his and hear your sweet moans.
He kept it all to himself, being ashamed and afraid of you finding out, after all, Vincent really thought you would prefer Bo to him.
° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° °
✿E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)
None before you, he only knows the theory.
Vincent learns fast, but be patient and show him, he really wants to take care of you and show you how much he loves you, so be patient and teach him.
° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° °
✿F = Favorite Position (This goes without saying)
Vincent likes more intimate positions, as a missionary for example, but having you ride him makes him weak, he will touch every part of your body, delighting and absorbing every sensation.
° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° °
✿G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc.)
Vincent is rarely going to be funny on purpose, he's more serious in these aspects because he sees this act as intimate and vulnerable, so he's going to act that way.
° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° °
✿H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)
Vincent is well prepared, he puts a little effort into it.
He probably leaves only a small path to happiness.
° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° °
✿I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)
Very intimate and romantic, he wants to take care of you and show you how much he loves you.
° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° °
✿J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)
Now that he has you, he's likely to do it infrequently or when he doesn't want to bother you.
Before you guys had a relationship Vincent would probably do it more often as you would be constantly on his mind and he would need to relieve himself.
° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° °
✿K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)
Wax play(Absolutely!), Praise kink, Body Worship,(I'm sure Vincent likes to leave marks and have his hair pulled too)
° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° °
✿L = Location (Favorite places to do the do)
His shared bedroom and his desktop, he doesn't want to get caught by his brothers while making love to you.
° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° °
✿M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)
Bite the area between Vincent's neck and shoulder or run your fingers through his hair as you kiss him, he'll be ready for you!
° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° °
✿N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn-offs)
No for degradation, he doesn't feel good degrading you and he feels bad when you do that to him, Vincent has self-esteem problem, so it will make him sad and uncomfortable.
He doesn't like anything that could hurt you either and not even share you.
° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° °
✿O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)
He likes to give and take, but he likes giving much more. He makes you feel good with his mouth, you make such sweet moans and your thighs tremble around his head. He loves it!
° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° °
✿P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? Etc.)
Vincent is slower and more sensual, certainly gentle sex.
He can be rude if you want, but he'll always make sure you're okay.
° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° °
✿Q = Quickie (Their opinion on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)
Prefer proper sex, as Ambrose is only moved sometimes.
But I think if he's really busy he would be fine to have quickies.
° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° °
✿R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)
He'll be fine to try anything you want, just tell him.
As long as it's not degradation, something you get hurt or he has to share you.
° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° °
✿S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)
Vincent has a lot of stamina considering his work on Ambrose.
It sure can last several rounds.
° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° °
✿T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)
Vincent doesn't have any, but if you do and want to use it, Vincent is willing to do that, but it's not something he's attracted to, he prefers to pleasure you himself.
° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° °
✿U = Unfair (How much they like to tease)
It's not unfair, he can be a bit provocative but he loves you so much and wants to make you feel good.
° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° °
✿V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)
Vincent will growl and moan, whispering sweet things in your ear and believe me, this is going to be completely heavenly!
° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° °
✿W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)
If you want to tease Vincent, bite between his neck and shoulder or pull his hair lightly.
This can make you submissive and sweet or hungry and fierce, so do this at your own risk.
° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° °
✿X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants)
I think it's best left to your imagination, but if you really want to I can edit this and write about it.
° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° °
✿Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)
In the beginning of the relationship Vincent totally hides his sexual desires for you, he wants to go easy on you, he doesn't want to make you uncomfortable and scared.
However, with some time in the relationship, his desire turns out to be very high.
° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° °
✿Z = ZZZ (…how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)
He'll fall asleep after you, just after making sure you have everything you need and you're feeling fine, he'll fall asleep after you, hugging your soft body and kissing you on the forehead.
⊱⋅ ────── ❴ • ✿ • ❵ ────── ⋅⊰
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"And now I have to chop off some scary monster's head that suddenly jumps on the trail?" Dean says, eyes closed, "because now that would be relaxing."
"If you are not going to stop joking and take things seriously I won't keep going." Castiel sounds annoyed and Dean doesn't need to open his eyes to know his "so done with your bullshit" face is on place.
"Sorry Cas, I'll behave, I promise."
This whole meditation thing was Cas' idea, always going out of his way to look for ways to help Dean to healthly unwind and relax, sleep better and make it easier to live through the bad days.
Dean just thinks is silly, he doesn't really want to tell Cas so, because he doesn't want to hurt his feelings. But this thing simply won't work for him. He can't stop focusing in the hundred things always running around in his mind, all the noise, the positive and negative, he closes his eyes and he can't forget, he has a hard time focusing on his breathing, he fidgets where he is sitting in front of Cas, jealous of how Castiel can remain unbothered by any sound or minimal distraction.
He comes back to the present, he takes a deep breath and tries to keep up with whatever Cas is talking about, his nose is suddenly itchy, he reaches to scratch it and the dull pain that shots all the way down his arm from his bruised shoulder takes him back to the dirty floor of the warehouse of their last hunt, is like he can smell the blood permeating the air, and there go all his efforts to mantain a controlled breathing.
"I'm trying, okay?" His joking tone from before is gone now, frustation filling each word, "but I just can't stop thinking." He opens his eyes, meeting Cas', he doesn't look mad or anything, blue eyes warm and understanding instead.
"You tried, and that's what matters, it's okay." He smiles at Dean, and he is already feeling so much better, "meditating isn't for everyone." Dean knows Castiel meditates sometimes, mostly he used to do it at night, while he kept an eye on Dean's dreams, so he is far more used to it than Dean is. It's isn't just a lack of practice, though, and they both know it. There was never time in Dean's life, not when he was younger and even less in his adult life, to focus on himself for a moment, to take care of his battered mental health.
"Wanna try again."
"I don't want you to force yourself and have another thing to worry about."
"Just once, okay?" He offers, nodding," if I can't we will stop for now."
"Fine," Castiel seems to have an idea then, "let's try something, lay down," Dean obeys, strechting on the mat Castiel himself uses normally, "move a bit to the left." The mat wasn't made with two grown men sharing it in mind so, when Cas lays down next to him, half their bodies are out of the narrow surface.
Dean is on his back and Castiel settles himself on his side, resting his head on Dean's shoulder and throwing his leg over Dean's own. He reaches for Dean's hand, pulling it closer so he can put them both over the gentle beating of his heart, his chest moving slowly in a rhythm Dean's starts to match almost unconciously.
Castiel's warmth, his closeness and presence are grounding for Dean, clearing his mind and alowing him to focus on the moment and the intimacy they are sharing, the weight of his touch, he wants to believe he can even feel a wing protectively curled over his body, and all is quiet then, but for Cas' rough voice, that tells him to close his eyes and breathe.
"Is this okay?"
"So much better." Castiel presses a kiss to his shoulder and Dean squeezes their joined hands.
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Camping Was Intense: Part 2
A Drake’s Birthday Bash and Wacky Drabbles Follow-Up One-Shot
This is my submission for the Drake’s Birthday Bash event hosted by @twinkleallnight. In addition, this is my second attempt at a Wacky Drabble. The Week 116 prompt is “I don’t believe you” and will appear in bold below. Happy reading!
Series: TRR - (Un)Common Attraction universe
Pairing: Drake Walker x OC (Harper Gale)
Synopsis: In Camping Was Intense, Harper organised (another) surprise birthday party for Drake that didn’t end up going as planned… This follow-up instalment answers the burning, unresolved question plaguing everyone’s mind from the end of Part 1, namely ‘Does Drake get to finish opening his birthday present?’ 👀👀
Word count: 1,887 (bit long, I know, but I managed to keep it under 2,000 words!! Normally I’d write this kind of scene about twice as long 😅)
Warnings: NSFW (much swearing and smutty smut)
A/N: Similarly to the previous instalment, this one also references some conversations / events from the main story line (people who have gone on a binge spree and have already read (Less Than) Noble Intentions (love you all! 😘) will probably recognise these, but if you haven’t yet, it won’t affect your enjoyment / understanding of this fic).
"Fuckin' Beaumont..." gripes Drake as I help him back to our tent. "Never invite him camping again."
"What the hell happened?"
"Nothing," he grumbles, pulling the bits of toilet paper from his nostrils to check whether his nose was still bleeding. His efforts are rewarded by a fresh gush of blood down his face. "...fuck's sake."
I cast him a sidelong glance as I offer him the rest of the roll. "You tried to sneak up on him, didn't you?"
"No," he mutters, tearing a new sheet off.
His momentary hesitation is all the confirmation I need.
"Why would you do that!"
"Thought it'd be funny? I dunno..." he shrugs, sticking the fresh wads up his nose. "He interrupted us with his late-night cooler raiding, so I wanted to get him back..."
I shake my head exasperatedly as we reach our tent. "I kinda want to say serves you right..."
He cocks a brow at me. "But?"
"...but it's your birthday, and you've already suffered enough, so I'll save it 'til the morning."
"Gee, thanks, Gale..." he says dryly, ducking into the tent after me. "Way t' make a guy feel special."
"Well, I had a whole plan for that, but—"
He grabs my wrist. "What plan?"
"It doesn't matter now. You've got a broken nose and—"
"It's not broken."
"You got wacked with an ice pack," I remind him. "That was still frozen. If that didn't break your nose, I don't kn—"
"Trust me, it ain't broken."
"I don't believe you. That amount of blood only comes from—"
"Busted noses always bleed a lot."
"You're just saying that because you want to finish what we started."
"Damn straight," he confirms, pulling me into him. "You got me a present that I actually like."
"And now it's going to have to go back in its wrapper until—"
"Fuck that," he growls, fingers digging possessively into my bare backside. "We're finishing this now."
I throw my head back with a laugh. "Dream on, cowboy! You're not banging me with toilet paper stuck up your nose."
"If it's that much of a problem, I'll take it out."
I snort. "So, you can bleed all over me? No thanks."
"What if you're on top?"
I heave a sigh. "Drake. I love you. And I'm sorry that the second half of the night crashed and burned. But sex is off the table until you're healed up."
His eyes widen. "You're not fuckin' serious..."
I hold his gaze uncompromisingly. "Yes. I am. You know as well as I that you need to keep your head elevated and avoid strenuous activity until the bleeding and the swelling subside. Otherwise, you're just going to make it all worse."
He glares at me like I've just issued him a death sentence. "That could be up to two weeks."
"Best start resting up then, bud."
He mutters something profane under his breath as he pushes past me towards the sleeping bags, unbuckling his belt as he went to push his jeans irately down.
I roll my eyes as I move to the bags to locate the first aid kit. Pulling it out, I shuffle over to Drake, who'd finished taking off his blood-splattered clothes and was now laying back on his sleeping bag in his boxers, arms crossed in a grump over his chest.
"You'd better be prepared to make up for this, Gale," he warns as I open the kit to extract a disinfectant wipe so I could mop the blood off his face.
"Oh, don't make it out like it's the end of the world, Walker," I chide, ripping the packaging open. "You'll be good as new before you know it."
"Yeah," he scoffs. "At the expense of blue balls."
"I don't think it'll get to that," I murmur, throwing a knee over him to settle myself on his hips.
I hear him suck in a breath, but he keeps his arms crossed and expression indignant. "Easy for you to say. You've never had blue balls."
"And neither have you," I counter, leaning forward to gently clean his mouth and chin, "even when we were apart for three weeks."
A groan hitches in the back of his throat as my lace-clad breasts graze his forearms. "Don't remind me. That was fuckin' torture."
"I wouldn't go that far," I say softly, tilting his head up to get at the blood under his chin. "It's not like you had to go completely cold turkey."
"Phone sex doesn't count," he grits, as I slowly pull back from him to drop the used wipe back in the first aid kit, my hair trailing along his chest in the process. "It's just glorified jacking off."
"It's a bit more than that," I point out, picking up the pot of arnica cream and unscrewing the lid. "You're forgetting the visual element of those video calls."
"That's what made it torture," he expounds, uncrossing his arms to slide his hands up my thighs as I lean over him again. "Seeing you, but not being able to touch you..."
I gasp as his hands round the curve of my ass.
"...to kiss you..."
His tongue darts out to lick my wrist as I massage the cream in around his nose, making me shiver.
"...to feel you start to quiver just before you fall over the edge..."
A low moan escapes me as he thrusts his hips up, the thin lace of the thong between my legs doing nothing to dampen the heat of his rekindled arousal straining against his boxers.
"Drake," I say with as much force as I can muster, looking him in the eye. "We shouldn't, and you know it..."
"But you want it as much as I do..." he insists, grinding our hips together in full knowledge of what that manoeuvre did to both of us.
My eyes flutter shut with a sigh as my body momentarily betrays me and I rock back against him.
Opening my eyes, I fix him with a serious look. "Fine. We'll do one thing from the plan. On one condition."
Drake drops his head back with a groan. "What is it this time...?"
"You don’t move."
He jerks his head up in disbelief. "You can't be ser—"
"One twitch from you and we stop. Are we clear?"
I see the muscle in his jaw work disapprovingly before he grunts, “Crystal.”
"Good boy," I approve, dropping a kiss on his cheek.
"You’re going to be the death of me, Gale..."
"But, we're not doing anything until your nose has stopped bleeding."
He rolls his eyes at me as he reaches up to gingerly pull the paper from his nose. After waiting a moment or two, he says, "Looks like we're good."
"Hold tight, cowboy," I purr, leaning in to nip his ear. "You're in for a ride."
I hear the breath hitch in the back of his throat as I feather my tongue down his neck before moving lower to drop kisses down his chest and abs until I reach the waistband of his boxers. Grabbing the elastic with my teeth, I tug it down with the help of my hands, freeing his erection.
Running my palms back up his thighs, I draw the tip of my tongue along the underside of his length, pulling a sharp exhale from him, before slowly reversing the manoeuvre.
"You're a goddamn tease, girl..." he grits, fisting his hands into the sleeping bag.
"I'm just getting started..."
Another groan escapes him as I wrap my fingers around him while I trace little circles around his glistening tip.
"Harper..." he says through gritted teeth. "You're killin' me here..."
"Oh, I think you'll live," I assure him as I start sliding my hand up and down to the same rhythm as my tongue.
"I'll... remind you... of that," he pants, clenching his eyes shut, "when I return... the favour."
"I'm sure you will..."
A ragged gasp is torn from his throat as I take him into my mouth.
"Christ...!" he exclaims, bucking his hips up.
"Ah!" I admonish, withdrawing from him. "What did we agree on?"
Expletives spew from his mouth as he stills himself with some difficulty.
I slant him a coy look. "I thought your self-control would be better than this, Walker..."
He scoffs breathlessly as I resume sliding my hand up and down. "It's a damn sight better than yours, Gale. You'd be a writhing mess by now..."
"Let's put that to the test, shall we?"
Bending back down, I close my mouth around him again, sucking, licking, and nipping until I feel him start to tremble.
"Sweet fuckin' Jesus, girl..." he grits, fingers tangling into my hair. "You're gonna make me cum so hard..."
Seeing the tight expression on his face, and knowing that he was close, I swirl my tongue around his throbbing head as I tighten my hold around the base of his shaft, causing him to thrust into my mouth with a strangled moan.
"Hard foul, Walker," I declare, popping my lips off him again. "I told y—”
Before I have a chance to blink, he’s pulled me up onto him, throwing my legs around his waist.
Yanking the flimsy material of my thong to the side, he shoves me unceremoniously onto his rock-hard dick, drawing low groans from both of us.
"Hold tight, girl," he growls, clamping his hands onto my hips. "You're in for a ride."
My head tips back with a moan as he yanks me forcefully against him. All thoughts and protests evaporate from my mind as I give in to the heart-stopping feeling of us coming together. Tightening my legs around him, I give my body free reign, even though this had not been part of the plan.
"Come for me…" he grits, his movements now erratic, his breath laboured as he tried to hold out, waiting for me.
“You don’t need to—”
“I wasn’t asking.”
He reaches up to thumb my nipple through the gossamer lace, and I feel myself start to tighten in anticipation as I continue to move against him. And when he leans in to run his tongue up my exposed neck, teeth nipping the sensitive skin, I hear myself cry out as the intensity becomes too much and I succumb to ecstasy. Watching Drake's unguarded reactions to my mercilessly teasing had obviously been more of a turn-on than I had realised!
I feel Drake tighten his hold on me as he tenses before his own release shudders through him with a loud groan a heartbeat later. He tugs us together a few more times before we collapse against each other, breathing hard.
“You okay?” I ask softly, trying to catch my breath.
“Your nose is bleeding again…”
“Don’t care…” he grunts dismissively, wiping the blood away with the back of his hand. “It was 100% worth it.”
“As long as you don’t bleed out on me, Walker.”
He scoffs as he flops back onto the ground, taking me with him. “Don’t worry. I’m planning on sticking around for a while if this is how we’re going to celebrate each year. Just promise me one thing.”
“You’ll remind me to lock the cooler in the car next time.”
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only a sith deals in absolutes - part ii
obi-wan kenobi x senator!fem!reader
PART I HERE
warnings: inappropriate use of the force, smut, p in v sex, use of the title master, edging, semi-public sex, slight dom behavior bc who doesn't love daddy-wan kenobi, minors dni 18+
word count: 1,757
a/n: so i really just went nuts here, i know this is not canon accurate as to how the force works or anything so don't come after me, oh and this is all rots obi-wan btw ;) and i know this is kind of short so im sorry!
You were at a long table in one of the meeting rooms in the senate building on Coruscant, Padme on your right and Obi-Wan and Anakin in front of you both. The four of you were looking through holopads with every move documented from the war. You were trying to find a way around sending more clones to their deaths, which will accomplish nothing. You all had been there for what felt like all day, finding no alternative plan. You were beginning to grow frustrated at the lack of a breakthrough.
“Maker, why is nothing making any sense,” you rubbed your face in annoyance.
“I feel like there is no way around it, wars are won with soldiers, not talking. We have to send them in,” Anakin was always the more...brutal, of your group.
“General, with all due respect, we could send a thousand troops into this war and never make any headway,” Padme was always the peaceful one.
You all spent some more time debating the matter while all growing increasingly frustrated. It had been a few days since your encounter with Obi-Wan, it had been really the only thing on your mind. The feeling of his fingers curling inside you and his mouth on your skin still made your knees weak. Ever since, you and Master Kenobi had been catching eachothers eyes all day, trying not to let your gaze linger very long. As your debates started to die down, you were all feeling a little tense from sitting for too long. You started to roll the tension out of your shoulders as you felt the familiar feeling of someone watching you, a presence that lingered around you. You looked around, finding no one else in the room except the four of you.
You had learned a little about the Force from the Jedi you had worked with but had of course never experienced it for yourself. With two Jedi in the same room you thought maybe you could be feeling something from them but both men looked to be focused on something else. The feeling was almost like a pulsing thickness in the air, something that coated your skin. After a few minutes of it not going away, you started to feel slightly ansty.
Obi-Wan was noticing your nervous behavior and knew you were feeling his efforts. He knew he loved to see your reactions to his teasing, he wanted to take it a step further. He reached out through the Force, sensing your presence and washing a feeling of calm over you. He instantly saw the reaction you had to it and a small smile cracked on his face. He decided to take it a step further.
You felt a soft sensation climb up your legs, almost like delectae fingers tracing up the inside of your thighs. The sudden feeling startled you at first, thinking something was under the table. You looked around the table at your companions, who seemed like they felt nothing. Your gaze met Master Kenobi’s to find him smiling at you with lust in his eyes. You quickly caught on to what he was doing, smiling back at him.
You had no idea the Force could be used in this way, something physical another person could feel. You quickly caught on to what he was doing once you felt the ghost sensation go up towards the apex of your thighs. Your body was betraying you and reacting to his movements, you couldn't stay still as he teased you. This went on for almost an hour, Obi-Wan using the force to create soft touches on and around your core. You were fidgeting in your seat the rest of the night, Padme often leaning over to ask if you were alright. One particular moment you felt a harsh pleasure inside your walls, mimicking when his fingers made that curling motion. You lurched forward and a loud inhale made its way past your lips in surprise. Everyone looked at you, making sure you were ok.
“Sorry, must be a stomach ache…” you grabbed your stomach in fake pain, giving Master Kenobi a warning look.
“You know, I think we should all get some rest,” Padme stood from her seat and said her goodbyes. Anakin quickly followed to ‘make sure she got back alright’, as usual. As soon as the room was empty you let out a relieved moan as you sunk down into your chair. Obi-Wan couldn't help but smirk at your reaction, loving how it all affected you. He rose from his chair, circled around to you all while keeping up his use of the Force to torture you in the most exquisite way. His large hands landed on your shoulders as he lowered his mouth to your ear, his delicious voice leaving goosebumps along your skin.
“You did very good for me, little one,” he peppered your neck with kisses as the invisible touch was building pleasure in your pelvis. All you could do in response was whimper and grip the edge of the table for dear life. You were quickly tumbling towards your release and Obi-Wan knew it, and he also knew that he could be a nice guy and let you finish, but he wasn't feeling very nice right now.
“Oh Maker, Obi-Wan don’t stop,” your voice was a hushed moan. If Obi-Wan wasn't so determined to drag this out, your plea would have almost worked. Right as you were about to fall apart he withdrew his Force signature and watched as you whined in response. You cried out in frustration, got up and grabbed the Jedi Master’s robes that were across his chest to pull him into a heated kiss. Your hands were on each other in no time, trying to feel as much of each other as possible.
“You’ve made me wait long enough,” you pulled away just enough to give him a dirty look before he grabbed your waist and put you on top of the table. All your clothing was quickly stripped from both of your bodies. You were sprawled across the table with your legs wrapped around his waist as he slowly dragged the blunt tip of his cock through your wet folds. Your wanton moans dragged a low growl from his chest then he quickly buried himself in your needy cunt. The long awaited feeling of having Obi fully seated inside you made you both groan with pleasure. The slowness turned to hard thrusts of his pelvis into yours that drove you mad, you couldn’t help the noises coming from your throat.
“You have to be q-quite love, or i’ll…have to stop”
His hips never let up in their harsh pace while his hand grabbed the back of your neck. You were really trying to hold yourself together but it was getting harder as your climax grew closer.
“Are you going to be my good girl and stay quiet?”
All you could do was nod and hum in response. You felt like a woman possessed. Your body was not your own, too strung out on pleasure to have any semblance of control. The hard thrusts of his pelvis into yours was drawing needy moans from you, your own body disobeying his orders. He clapped his hand over your mouth to trap your noises behind his palm as the other grabbed your wrists. Obi-Wan held your arms over your head as he continued to pound into you relentlessly.
“You keep these h-here for me,” he squeezed at your wrists. “C-can you do that - fuck - little one?” he ground his hips into yours slowly, hitting the very spot inside you that deepened your pleasure.
You hummed in response and screwed your eyes shut in ecstasy as the Jedi returned to rutting into you mercilessly. In an attempt to keep your hands above your head as instructed, you held onto the other end of the table for dear life. You reveled in the way the esteemed Jedi Master looked above you, unraveling as he bathed in your pleasure.
You felt the pressure of your release building in your core when Obi-Wan began to draw small circles around your throbbing clit. You wanted so badly to scream out his name but quickly remembered the building might not be empty. The thought of someone finding you here only made your heart rate kick up and lower walls clench around his length.
“Mmm, fu-fuck me, you feel so g-good… darling,” that beautiful accent made every word off his toungue sounds like honey. “I can feel you about - mmm maker - about to cum for me.”
“Ple-please, I want to cum,” every word was punctuated by his hips slamming into yours, both of you chasing your impending highs. “Please, Master…”
Your blissed out facial expression along with his formal title made Obi nearly lose his mind. He decided then and there that you moaning his name was like hearing angels sing. He loved the way he affected you, watching you react to his ministrations. His fingers picked up the pace as well as his hips, somehow moving faster than before.
“I w-want you to cu-cum for me love,” his voice was barely a breath at this point. Your hips angled up towards him now, making him hit the most devastating spot inside of you. That accompanied by his expert fingers had your orgasm crashing down on you faster than you expected. You writhed under him, your muscles clenching around him as you rode out your release. Seeing the esteemed Jedi Master above you, face twisting in pleasure and hair now messy with sex, made your climax even stronger. Obi-Wan kept his fingers moving in tandem with his hips as he felt his pleasure come to a peak. In the midst of your pleasure, you almost missed how he went to pull out.
You quickly locked your legs around his waist. “No, p-please. In-inside me, I'm safe.”
“Oh fu-fuck--” His hips stopped as he coated your walls in his release. The feeling made your muscles clench around him again, triggering an aftershock in your pelvis. The low rumble of his moan vibrated down your spine as he collapsed onto your chest.
Before you had a chance to fully catch your breath, a voice carried down the hallway. “Master? Are you still here? I have a question…” As the voice of Obi-Wan’s padawan made it's way closer to the room, the two of you scrambled to find your discarded clothing. Grabbing your dress, you bolted to the nearby closet when Obi-Wan grabbed your arm. Planting a kiss on your still kiss-swollen lips.
“Meet me in my quarters, love. I'm not done with you yet.”
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reader: why did you grab me?
yandere! character: I love you! We will be happy together!
reader: well...if I have my own space, access to the internet for memes and fanfics, and dishes that I don't have to wash in huge quantities, then ok
yandere! character:..... okay??? .....
This is so trueeee
Honestly speaking, I'd be scared for a couple weeks but as soon as I realised they're never going to hurt me or use me for untoward purposes, they respect me as my own person and take into account my desires, and genuinely made an intense effort to understand me as an individual, I would be fine.
The biggest problem would actually be the lack of internet access (well, that and contact with my friends) but all of them would give that back to you eventually once they trusted you not to use it to leave them. The personal space, all of them would give to some extent, though the level varies from person to person.
Finally as for the chores thing, I don't think any of them would make you do any chores at least while you're still an unwilling prisoner, and even after that nobody's going to expect you to be a housespouse. Some of them would definitely encourage you (particularly Prosciutto- he thinks it would do your mind some good) but no-one's getting offended if you don't.
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sometimes pro-jedi discourse is fun (because i adore the jedi) and sometimes it's just "how much longer can you try to blindly defend one person before you lose track of everything else in the argument"
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Writes an essay of a vent I have nowhere else to put in the tags cutely.
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Do parents realize that attempted guilting their children to call back in fact lessens the chances that they'll call back more often and also at the humble price of 0 money (any currency), it costs them emotionally nothing to message instead if you can't reach. It's been years, dad, you know I don't always have the energy or capasity or time or want to pick up every time you call which isn't even a lot
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Guess who's rethinking everything about her OC's storyline?
( check tags for mini rant)
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can i sleep with you tonight?
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