#i think his voice could lull me to sleep so fast | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

some-bunniii · 3 months

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Lucifer with an artist reader

・❥ You’re hosting an art class, and the nude model is someone you never expected

xx: it’s a long one y’all 😭 we’re still in the pre-dating era! Slowburn, anybody? Forget the crumbs, have the whole loaf of bread, my swans ☺️

warning: brief mentions of nudity & mild swearing

After Lucifer’s initial tour of the hotel, he started coming around much more often.

He was beginning to reconcile with his daughter, and that meant making up for all the years he had missed out due to his self-isolation.

When Lucifer came to the hotel for Charlie, he always made time for you.

At first, when you had still been busy working away at the paintings for the hotel, he had used the excuse that he was just coming over simply to “admire the art.”

Nevermind that he crossed the entire hotel just to look at some paintings, but you never pried him about it. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t waiting in anticipation for his visits.

Sometimes, he would lean against the door frame in silence, watching as your brush glided across the surface of the canvas. He dared not to disturb you while you worked. Too afraid he’d cause you to slip up and place your brush in the wrong spot, ruining your piece.

He never would admit it, but the soft, feather-like strokes you made always seemed to lull him into a state of tranquil bliss.

If he had the opportunity to sit there for hours and watch you paint, he’d probably drift off into a peaceful sleep.

It was ASMR for the King of Hell.

You weren’t always sure whether he was admiring the painting, or you. You were too concentrated on making a leaf of a tree, or the surface of the water just right to trace his gaze.

You’d think with Lucifer being the embodiment of pride and his rank as ruler of the realm, he’d have demanded your attention instantly.

Instead, it was you who usually spoke first. “Are you going to sit down?” You’d tease with a warm smile, greeting him with a bat of your eyelashes as you soaked your brush with fresh paint.

“Of course, I just wanted to see your progress, it’s looks beautiful as always.”

You had hummed a thanks as he strode over to the flat cushion in the middle of the room, and collapsed in it. He had now claimed it as his personal spot ever since he had first used it when you let him use his wings for reference.

Every time he made himself comfortable, he would exhale a large sigh of relief, like he just walked out of a noisy and over-stimulating circus show.

His tolerance for people in general was still pretty dicey, but here, in the quiet corner of the hotel, he could reset his mind.

And with you there? He didn’t feel so lonely. Even in your silence, your presence and the multitude of large paintings leaning against the walls was all he needed to keep his mind from drifting off into darker thoughts.

“Boy, do you work fast. I can’t imagine what Hell would like if you were the one running things.”

“Probably terrible,” You had laughed, “I may be able to create art under time constraints, but the pressure of an entire realm on my shoulders? We’ll let the super-powerful-fallen-angel deal with that.”

“There goes my vacation,” He had sighed dramatically.

Sometimes, he’d catch you humming to an ancient tune, and every time he’d ask you about it.

“What song is this?” He’d ask, genuine interest lacing his voice.

“Innsbruck, ich muss dich lassen”

“I’m not even going to pretend to know what that means”

“ ‘Innsbruck, I must leave thee’ ,” you’d laugh, “It’s a German song and is, you guessed it, from the Renaissance.”

“Oh, right. Germany. Yeah, they were our biggest influx of souls back in the early 1900s,” He replied, “Must’ve been fun people.”

You shook your head at that. Right, ‘Fun’, that was a rather.. surface-level take on what that country had gotten into during that period of time.

“You should tell me more about the Renaissance.” He’d ask with puppy-dog eyes, which always made you set down your brush and turn to him. A content smile spreading across your face.

Your knowledge of such a time always intrigued him, the Renaissance as a whole did. For so long, he had desperately clung onto the hope that some of humanity would go on to create great and beautiful things due to his actions. That his Fall wasn't all for nothing.

Slowly, that hope fizzled out, and Lucifer’s growing delusion that Earth mirrored the sinful realm of Hell in more ways than one plagued his mind.

And then you appeared, passionate about Man’s most beautiful creations. Art, music, long-ago writings of sappy declarations of love in the form of poetry, and times when humanity’s intellectual and innovative nature flourished.

“It was absolutely magnificent,” You’d start, drawing from the depths of your mind all the imagery you could remember from when you were alive, “Filled with all kinds of artistic expression, painters that filled the ceilings of churches with heavenly imagery-“

Lucifer had snorted at that. This era in time had such a romanticized idea of what Heaven and their Creators were like. He pitied their ignorance.

“-and beautiful music. They were known for bringing to life a worldview known as Humanism. It was meant to bring back ancient philosophy — like from the Greeks — to uplift people to participate in the betterment of humanity, and to perpetuate much more virtuous actions. There must be a whole city full of them up there, I can't imagine anyone from that period ending up down here with how protective they were of their moral code.”

He’d always listen attentively in silence as you educated him. Sometimes, he’d even pull out the classic yellow rubber duck toy he held so close to his heart, and begin to fiddle with it as you spoke.

When he worked on them in your room, he’d curate them especially for you.

“Look! This one can refill your palette with the bestest freshest paint!” He’d exclaim as he wiggled it in the air, “And it still quacks!”

Every time, you’d pull up a cushion across the table from him, and rest your chin on your hand as you watched in amusement as he demonstrated his work.

In this instance, he squeezed the sides of the duck and it let out a pathetic Sqeaaooo and a glob of paint slid out of its mouth and plopped right onto the table. It splattered, leaving a few droplets on his pretty white overcoat.

Lucifer was a messy fella, and times like this made you growl quietly and reach for a wet cloth from your cleaning bucket. Hastily trying to rid his clothing of the bright red paint. Your movements across his sleeve made his body tense, and his breath quicken.

For someone who easily flustered you with abrupt acts of affection like the first time you met, Lucifer had the uncanny ability to turn his face as red as his cheek spots when you displayed such care towards him.

“It's still a work in progress.” He’d bashfully assure you every time something like that wouldn’t go as planned.

You’d wish Lucifer displayed such creativity outside of the yellow bath toy, but you promised yourself to help him down that path.

You could only imagine how many ideas this man had stored in that head of his, and you had a feeling you’d get him to wake up eventually. The thought of being there for him — with him, made your cheeks hot.

When it was finally time for him to leave the hotel — sometimes hours later, you’d walk him to the door of your little atelier and he’d turn to you, with that charming smirk and half-lidded look.

“Aren’t you going to say goodbye to Charlie?” You had ask, as he adjusted his hat and coat to depart.

“I already did before I got here,” he replied nonchalantly, as if you two existed in completely different buildings. Nevermind that she was a flight of stairs and a few halls away.

There were no more bold kisses to the limbs from him after your first meeting, to your displeasure. Even thinking about it gave you feelings that tugged painfully at your heartstrings and made you beg internally for more.

You desperately wished for him to softly hold your hand once more, to feel his lips graze your knuckles, to drink in the warmth of his touch.

Instead, he clutched his staff tightly, and dipped his hat to you.

“Until next time, Darling,” his voice, like silk, had echoed as waves of gold surrounded him. In a blink of an eye, you were left alone once more. Your heart pounding just like the first time, and every time after that.

Today, your heart was pounding just as fast. Except there was no Lucifer in sight.

Three days ago, you got a call from a good friend of yours who ran an art studio on the other side of Pentagram City. She realized she had double booked her classes, and had begged you to take over one for them.

“I’ve never taught anyone before…” You had trailed off over the phone, apprehensive to the idea.

“Nonsense! You are so well spoken, and you’re fantastic at this kind of stuff,” She exclaimed, “It’s not that hard, all you have to do is sit there while they trace the model and step in a few times to give them some tips on techniques. They aren’t a beginner class, so they shouldn’t need much instruction. You’re also in charge of guiding the model with the poses, but I already have a sheet that has them all, so you just need to follow along.”

You stood there for a moment, thinking. This was something totally strange to you. What were art classes like in Hell, anyway?

“Oh, AND they are going to be nude. At least partially, we make them cover their um, nether regions. That shouldn’t be a problem for you, right? I mean, you get paid for it so…”

Your friend trailed off, and the line went quiet for a moment as you mind raced. You looked around the now -empty atelier, your paintings finished and hung up around the hotel. You had nothing that was stopping you from doing it, not your skills, your time, or even the fact that the model was going to be exposed. You were in Hell, seeing someone like that was an almost daily occurrence. Telling her no just because of your nerves was a douchy thing to do, and you were far above that.

“Fine.” You conceded.

“YAYY!!” She shrieked in happiness, and you had to yank the phone away from your ear before it could start to bleed.

The next few minutes were her telling you where, when, and what to do. You had listened intently, memorizing her words. You didn’t want to make a fool out of yourself in front of strangers that you were teaching.

After hanging up the phone, had you went downstairs and to the hotel’s lobby to inform Charlie of your new job.

“I’m really sorry if this interferes with me working here, but I just couldn’t leave her hanging.”

“Pffft, it’s fine,” Charlie had waved it off, “You accepting the position as my new interior design manager is more than enough, i’m just glad you’re getting out of your comfort zone like this!”

You sighed a breath of relief. Good, no issues. You were worried she would have said no, and the fact she knows about Lucifer visiting you? Well, you weren’t sure how she was taking that. You never dared to ask, nor did she make any kind of indication her feelings about that.

“What’s it like?” She had asked, breaking you out of your thoughts.

“It’s nothing too bad, I think I might actually like it. I just help them with their techniques on mastering figure drawing by using a model as a reference. My friend says they are still looking for one to pose, so hopefully they find one in the next few days.”

“Interestingggggg” Charlie responded, her eyes holding a mischievous glint to them. You could see the gears turning in her head, but what for, you had no clue. You didn’t ask either.

You had spent the next few days preparing, you even had visited the studio. It was very pretty, and the room you were in was small, but rather homey. You had more confidence with your ability to lead the class now after locating specific areas of importance.

Which lead you to present day. You were hurriedly scrambling around the room, grabbing anything of necessity.

Your eyes jumped to the clock, and a squeak of panic escaped you as the class’ starting time got closer and closer. Finally placing the last pencil in your bag, you raced down the stairs, beelining for the door.

“Where you going in such a rush, Hot Cakes?” Angel Dust called out to you from the bar, Husk next to him as he poured Angel another drink.

“To class, do you know where Charlie or Alastor is?” You questioned them.

A rush of wind tickled your back, and you whipped around to see the Radio Demon himself looming behind you.

“Hello, my friend!” Alastor’s toothy grin on full display.

“I heard you were looking for Charlie, unfortunately she left not too long ago. She said it was something of great importance, and that it could shape the future of the hotel. But do not worry, I am here to assist you!”

You placed your hands together into a praying motion, trying your best to appeal to the demon’s better nature. If he had one.

“Can you pretty, pretty please send me to the Regal Fortune Studio? I’m doing a class there and I need to get there on time.” You begged.

Alastor’s eyes squinted in thought. Before his smile widened more than ever.

“Alright, I suppose so.”

You didn’t get to utter a thank you before the demon snapped his fingers, and dark energy crackled around you. Cold suddenly gripped at your shoulders, and your vision blurred.

You squeezed your eyes shut, unsure of what would happen next.

‘Please don’t kill me, please don’t kill me’

Suddenly, light hit your eyelids and you slowly opened them to see the studio before you, just steps away from the front door.

You exhaled a sigh of relief, before yanking open the door.

The door to the classroom was slightly ajar, and you could hear faint voices inside. Indicating that everyone but you was ready to begin.

You crossed the lobby, ready to pull on the handle of the door, before a slight movement in the corner of your eye caused you to turn your head.

At the far end of the room, you could partially see long, blonde hair sticking out into view. Then, you heard the stranger speak to herself. Quiet grumblings of a feminine voice as they berated themself.

You raised an eyebrow.. could it be?

“Charlie?” You asked slowly.

The stranger squeaked, their hair pulled out of view. You heard a thump against the wall, as though they’ve pressed themselves against it in an attempt to hide.

You slowly tip toed the hallway, before whipping your body around the corner, surprising the mysterious figure.

“Charlie!” You shrieked in surprise at the sight of her, crouched against the wall. Her eyes widened in shock, and she let out a shriek of her own. Her eyes darted around, before she pulled herself up to meet your gaze.

“Oh my gosh heyyyyy, I didn’t expect to see you here!” She mocked innocence.

“Bullshit,” you retorted, “I told you where I was going like three days ago. Why are you really here?”

Sweat beaded on her forehead, and she bit her lip. As if she was deciding whether to tell you the truth, or another lie.

Suddenly, she let go of the breath she held, her shoulders dropping in defeat.

“Okay.. the truth is, when you told me you were hosting an art class I was so thrilled! For you, of course. But then, I thought about how much you and my dad were getting along! Then, I thought about how you guys seemed to have the shared interest of art. So I.. told him about the class?”

“And?” You questioned, irritation lacing your voice. You really did not have time for this.

“And I told him about how you were still looking for a model, and you know how he is. He doesn’t have a problem doing things like that in front of people, and he’s getting better at being around people in general..”

You gripped Charlie by her shoulders when she trailed off again, shaking her.

“Spit it out! What about your dad?!”

“HE AGREED TO BE THE MODEL FOR YOUR CLASS BUT I HAD NO IDEA THEY WERE SUPPOSED TO BE NUDE UNTIL WE SHOWED UP BUT HE JUST SAID GOODBYE AND WALKED INTO THE BACK ROOM!!”

You stopped dead, your breath caught in your throat. You turned your head slightly, eyeing the classroom door.

“Your dad… is in there… naked?” You finally managed to get the sentence out, your gaze returning to Charlie in a look of disbelief.

This was a joke, right? There was noooo way you were going to walk in there a minute and see Lucifer there. This was just a terrible (-bly good?) dream.

Charlie nodded in defeat, her head hung low.

“I don’t even have the mental strength to go in there. I couldn’t stop him, even if I wanted to. He was dead set on this.”

You rubbed a hand along your face, gathering your thoughts.

“Well, there’s no stopping it now,” You said, rolling your shoulders in preparation, “Guess I have a class to teach.”

“Have fun..?” Charlie smiled innocently at you. Her plan was working, after all.

You shot her a glare before crossing the lobby once more, and pulled open the door. You stepped inside, breath hitched, and gently shut the door behind you.

In front of you, four older women sat behind easels with a blank white canvas attached. If they noticed your arrival, they didn’t show it. Instead, they giggled in the direction of the slightly lifted stage. You couldn’t see who was on the stage, but the familiar voice with giddy amusement told you exactly who it was.

“You’re finally here!” Lucifer called, and you did nothing but stand there for a moment.

Straightening your back, you exhaled a deep breath, and walked forward. Right past the stage. You kept your eyes in front of you, ignoring the golden gaze that trailed your figure.

You positioned yourself between the platform and the women who had finally stopped giggling and whispering to each other, and cleared your throat.

“Hello, everyone. I’m your instructor for today, unfortunately Renee couldn’t be here today. We’ll be going over the usual though, figure drawing with the model present today.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, before opening them with renewed energy.

Slowly, you turned on your heels and pivoted in the direction of the platform. Your eyes widening at the sight.

Before you, on a long, red couch lay the King of Hell. Lucifer Morningstar, in all his glory. Shirtless, with no pants in sight. Thankfully, a thin, barely-hiding-anything sheet covered his waist section.

You met his gaze, a playful smirk etched on his lips. He wiggled his eyebrows at you, gauging for a reaction.

You made sure not to give him one. If he thought he was going a reaction from you in front of all these people, he was wrong.

“Let’s start by doing a quick sketching exercise, take about ten minutes to do your best and draw the model in front of you. Once the timer goes off, we’ll review and go over some techniques, before switching to a much longer pose.”

You clicked the timer, and the faint ticking of its gears cemented you into reality.

“Is that Lucifer?” One of the ladies whispered to her friend a chair over. Her friend shrugged, “I have no idea.. but boy, is he handddssoomee.”

You pressed your lips together, trying to ignore their gossip.

Sitting in the chair farthest from the group, you crossed your arms, your gaze resting on the floor. Was he looking at you right now?

You sat there for a moment, before realizing you couldn’t ignore him forever. He was the model after all. Soon you’d have to be helping him change poses anyway.

You looked up, drinking in the view. He was lazily leaning against the back of the velvet couch,

His hair, with no hat to cover it, stuck to his face messily with sweat. As he adjusted his head, a few strands of curls fell in front of his eyes. His intense stare slightly masked.

Was the room getting hot, or was it just you?

His eyes were locked on you, that stupid smirk still on his face. You sent daggers back to him.

He replied with a wave of his fingers.

You refused to let yours eyes travel any farther than his face, not ready for what kind of images your mind would give you regarding what was underneath the sheet.

“Did you know the Renaissance was pretty famous for constantly expanding its artistic art forms?” A voice smooth as butter filled the silence.

What the hell was he doing?!

“Believe it or not, the naked human was a very big inspiration for many of their paintings. No sheet in sight.”

Some of the women perked up in interest at Lucifer’s words. You couldn’t tell if they were actually interested in what he had to say, or just to hear his voice as it commanded the room’s attention.

“For an era so virtuous,” He teased the last part, reminding you of your discussion days earlier, “They so did love their scandalous marble status.”

He let that sink in, and you rolled your eyes dramatically at him. You couldn’t believe this was how Charlie planned on setting the two of you up.

A candle lit romantic dinner? Nah. A trip to the movies? Boring, apparently.

Were you against the idea of getting closer with the ‘Big Boss of Hell’? Of course not! He made you laugh and was actually interested in your ideas. This was just not how you expected it to go down.

“Keep talking, pretty boy!” One called from behind her easel.

Before he could speak again, the timer shrieked in your palm. You shot up from your seat, clasping your hands together loudly.

You turned your back to Lucifer as you began instructing the class, showing them a few techniques on how to straighten their lines, and how to hold their pencil just the right way that would give them a much thicker line for specific parts of the body.

“Alright, now, we’re going to have the model switch positions.”

Grabbing the paper that held all the different poses, you held it out to him, your finger tapping against the specific one in question. It showed the figure in a front facing view, one hand closed in a fist supported their chin, the other tucked neatly underneath. As if they were listening intently to some hot gossip.

“I’m afraid I can’t see what‘s on the paper. Perhaps, if you come a little closer and show me?

You groaned internally, he was enjoying this too much. You strided over to him. His gaze followed you, his grin only widening as you closed in on where he laid.

“You need to turn facing them,” You commanded the King himself. He pivoted, his body fully facing the group of gawking onlookers. He gave them a wink, and they hid behind their easels, their whispers fast and beathless.

“Now, you have to move your arm.. like this.” You spoke, reaching out one hand. You hesitated for a minute. You’ve never been so.. upfront with like this.

Reaching down, you gently circled your fingers around his wrist. Slowly, you allowed your hand to slip down, reaching his forearm.

His body was hot to the touch, and you felt like melting right then and there. Maybe it was time just to accept defeat, this man was just too good looking.

You felt the muscles of his arms shift, and you halted for a half a second.

Did he just tense?

Maybe you weren’t the only one who could be teased.

You guided his arm forward, and then up. Sliding your fingers, ever so gently, around his knuckles. You squeezed, and his hand enclosed into a fist. You guided it underneath his chin.

“Touchy today, aren’t we?” He spoke quietly to you, his voice dripping with velvet allure as you positioned him as the image on the paper showed.

“You be quiet.” You scolded him, trying your best to bring on your most serious face.

His quiet chuckle in response made you drop the face instantly. It was obvious you were pretty bad at this kind of thing, at least compared to Lucifer.

You grabbed his other arm, and gently tugged it underneath. Letting it lay neatly below him.

Taking a step back, you admired your work.

You were going to return to your seat, before a thought crossed your mind. You took a step forward, closing in on Lucifer again.

“And one more thing…” You started.

Using two fingers, you grazed the bottom of his chin, firmly pressing upward. Instinctually, his head followed the motion. He met your eyes, his gaze intensifying.

“Good boy.” You teased, your voice laced with a hint of sultry satisfaction.

You didn’t miss his pupils dilating into slits and his breath hitching slightly. You just turned on your heels, not giving him a second glance before returning to your seat.

You tilted your head at him slightly, looking at him through your eyelashes. Your lips curling into a provocative smirk as you gripped the timer.

Maybe now this would be an even match.

“Begin.”

Time flew by once more, and this time, Lucifer refused to meet your gaze. Instead, he was purely focused on the easels in front him.

“Tell me, my dear artist,” He began, addressing the demon woman before him. Her eyes widened when she realized he was speaking to her.

“If we were back in the Renaissance, would I make quite the muse?”

“Pardon?” The lady asked timidly, her voice coming out in a whisper.

“How about a statue? Think about that. Tall, Marble-skinned, and… lacking this rather uncomfortable cloth.”

The woman’s face turned bright red. Her mouth opened and closed, her tongue refusing to cooperate. Lucifer knew how to play this game well.

Then, he turned his head to you.

“What about you, stranger? Would you think i’d look good in such a form?”

You crossed your legs, leaning back in your chair.

“If the statue could stay quiet, while the class finished their work. Then, perhaps.”

The angel huffed, averting his gaze. He blew a few strands of hair out of his face, before continuing his blank stare at the wall.

The timer in your palm rang once more. You lifted yourself out of the chair. This was it, the last pose.

You strided back to Lucifer, his smoldering gaze on your figure as you approached.

For this pose, he needed to be off his stomach. You weren’t going to roll him like a log, or go anywhere near his torso. That was too brazen of an act for you to commit to, at least with all the eyes on you. Instead, you squeezed your eyes shut and gripped the white sheet. You tugged with all your might.

With an oomph he rolled along with it, he shoulder blades digging into the cushions as he landed exactly where you wanted.

Before the ladies could get even a glimpse, you hurriedly adjusted the sheet back onto him.

“Impressive, bending the devil himself to your will.” He commented as you continued to adjust his arms.

Ignoring him, you moved onto his legs, positioning them slightly.

“Careful~” He chided.

You said nothing to that either. Once he was in the correct pose, you released him. You glanced at his hair, now messily covering his face.

You reached forward and, splaying your fingers, pushed his hair back behind his head. You let your nails softly graze his scalp before you tugged them free.

“Sorry, can’t have your curls covering your face for the girls back there.”

“I bet they wished they were in your position,” Lucifer hummed “Few rarely are.”

You chuckled softly, “Please, the view looks better from back there.”

He let out an audible “Ha!” as the words left your lips and you turned away from him once more. You knew that must’ve stung, sending a blow to the prideful king’s ego.

Thirty minutes went by as you sat there, you spent more time examining your hands than meeting the gaze of the angel across the room.

This had turned into quite an eventful class, you couldn’t lie. You also didn’t expect such a shameless attitude from Lucifer, he was much more timid back in your painting room. Perhaps there was a side of him you still had yet to meet.

To be honest, sitting here, watching the clock tick by, you were pretty surprised this man had managed to stay near-perfectly still these past few hours.

Another thirty, and the timer rang its last chime. You had been positioned behind the drawing ladies, giving them critiques on their work.

You ignored the fact it was Lucifer you kept staring at on their canvas, instead simply regarding it as charcoal lines in need of straightening.

You wished them farewell at the doorway as they left. You hoped they had at least a pleasant time, since they’d have at least a good story to tell to their girlfriends over the phone.

Shutting the door with a soft thud, you sat there for a moment before your shoulders dropped in exhaustion. You honestly weren’t used to that kind of atmosphere, since your work consisted of you alone in a quiet room all day.

Taking a few steps backwards farther into the room, your gaze landing on the couch atop the platform. It was empty. Your eyes widened, did Lucifer just leave you here?

You rushed out of the classroom and strode into the lobby, searching for any signs of him.

“Wow, that little sneaky piece of-”

“I’m right here.” Came a familiar voice behind you.

You jumped, whipping around to find Lucifer dressed fully. Hat and all. Now this is what you were used to. Crossing your arms, you raised an eyebrow.

“What was that back there?” You motioned to the room behind you.

“My daughter invited me to look good in front of people and I did an outstanding job, as usual.”

“As the model? You couldn’t have just used your position as King to get a spot behind the easel instead?”

Lucifer grinned widely, leaning back against the wall. Could this have been his plan, and not Charlie’s? Now you weren’t so sure.

“Unfortunately, not many of us have a skill as perfected as yours with a brush.”

You accepted that praise. You had worked hard for it.

“And, not many people have as great of a photogenic face as me. So, we’re square.”

You chuckled, shaking your head as you walked away. Lucifer kept pace as you both exited the studio, heading toward the curb.

“That reminds me,” Lucifer halted, reaching into his pocket to fish for something.

You stopped beside him, the mystery item in his coat pocket piquing your interest.

“I fixed it!” He held the the paint-vomiting rubber duck out to you, wiggling it in delight.

“You did?”

“That’s right. This bad boy can now pop out six different colors, you just have to pull its beak.”

“That actually really cool,” You laughed, taking the rubber toy from him. You turned it in your hands, maybe later you’d pretty it up with some fresh paint.

You looked up at him again, his golden eyes shimmering from the bright neon backdrop. You have much more to say to him, but your thoughts were jumbled from the day. There was one, though.

“You know, next time you should just ask.” You gripped the duck firmly in the palm of your hand, lowering your arm.

“Ask what?”

“Don’t play dumb with me, Luci. You’re telling me you hijacked my class because you had a change in career choice?”

His smile turned playful again, and he pivoted to face you, shrugging nonchalantly.

“Maybe, maybe not. That depends if i’ll be seeing you next week?” His eyes met yours with a questioning stare.

You gave him a warm-hearting smile, nodding your head.

“As always.”

His smile widened, and with a tap of his staff. Golden waves cascaded around you. It wasn’t cold, like Alastors. Instead, it was warm and relieving, like face planting into your pillows after an exhausting day.

As your vision began to obscure, you saw his face peak into the cascades of light, his hand reaching forward.

“I almost forgot.” His voice echoed, distorted by the magic as it circled them.

His hand enclosed around your own, and planted a kiss right onto your wrist. His lips lingered for a moment, as did his grip around your hand, as if your time together was too fleeting to let go.

You promised silently it wasn’t.

The light rushed over you suddenly, and you had to squeeze your eyes shut to keep from being blinded. Lucifer’s touch vanishing with your sight.

Feeling your feet planting on solid ground, your eyes widened to familiar surroundings of the hotel lobby. You were home, and Lucifer was no where in sight.

“Hey, Hot Cakes!” Angel Dust called, still seated in the same spot at the bar, “How’d it go?”

——————

🤍 alright, let me know what you think of this!! your comments are appreciated, esp if you have any ideas on what to do next!

💜 the kisses are getting higher! part 3?

#lucifer morningstar #lucifer morningstar x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #did i do the sexy good?#my asexual ass is trying y’all #this man has been in one ep and we’re all snarling over him jesus

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sainzproductions · 6 months

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𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐝𝐨 ⋆ 𝐜. 𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐳

THE OTHER WOMAN / SEQUEL !

where you acclimate to the current dating scene after eight years of being with carlos...

liked by lewishamilton, charles_leclerc and others

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↶*ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊ-

You felt like you had done a good job all by yourself. You took your sweet time getting used to being alone again, having spent the better part of the past decade accompanying carlos and living together with him.

As embarassing as it was to admit, there were days where you'd wake up abruptly as if hearing his footsteps, or the faint rumble of his voice lulling you to sleep. There were moments where you'd break down crying upon seeing an article of clothing belonging to carlos, or seeing pictures when you were still happily together.

It wasn't easy to forget an eight year relationship. You soon realized. He was all you've ever known and adored... You dreamt a life with the guy for crying out out loud!

You wanted all the permanent things, the domestic future, him.

But the reality was that you were different people who wanted starkly different things in life. Carlos was set on his career while you had the burden of being a woman. You didn't have forever to waste away, and you didn't want to spend it waiting for a future that could never be in the stars for you and him.

You had accepted it. It wasn't all tears, and tearful reminiscing anyways. Your life had picked up after a couple of weeks. It was a lie. You spent a month and a half being pathetic. But who was counting?

You were having the time of your life. Your singleness provided a way for you to realize new and old hobbies.

You finally went back to your hometown, despite your fears of facing your parents' knowing looks and getting an ill timed i told you so's from their ever skeptic way of seeing life. Especially your relationship with Carlos..

But your mother took one look at you; in your deshieveled and devastated form, wordlessly opening her arms and craddling your pathetic self as you wept about your broken heart.

You found peace in the tranquility of your childhood home. Reacquainting yourself with your horse, champion whom you had been neglecting— you realize belatedly. The help couldn't take the horses out that much, where you formerly took the stallion out for most of the day. You made sure to make up for lost time however.

You were also able to rekindle old friendships, quickly becoming fast friends once again as if no time had passed at all. You traipsed all over Madrid, enjoying the thrill of meeting new people, of learning new things... And how forward the current dating scene seemed to be in regards to matters concerning...

"Wait, wait." You press a hand towards his broad chest, breathing roughly. Your chest rose and fell with excitement as you tried to come down from how fast the things had quickly become heated between the two of you. "We're going a bit too fast, don't you think?" You whine under your breath, as his face came down to press open mouthed kisses on your neck, easily finding your most sensitive spot as he expertly manouvers your body, backing you up against the wall.

"Relax. We won't do anything you don't want." He says, softening his tone, "I'm not a hooligan." He tuts, pressing a feather like kiss on the side of your lips.

"Says the man who pulled me into a dark room to play tonsil tennis." You retort amusedly, stroking your fingers on his neck. You couldn't help but close your eyes at the sensation of his lips against your skin, his fingers making quick work of slipping under your skirt, and you hissed from the sensation of his cold rings against your thighs, "You're cold!"

"Warm me up then, love." He was evidently amused by your reactions and the way your cheeks flushed at his crude remark. He wiped away every other thought from your mind, as he kisses you wantonly. He made sure to hold your gaze as he pulls away, sinking down to his knees... and kissing your thighs softly. "Beautiful. So fucking beautiful. I couldn't think of anything else when you walked into the room. Nobody else mattered but you... you're bad for my business, darling."

You could hardly register anything else after that

↶*ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊ-

The breakup came with the long forgotten territory of male attention. Sure, there were some bold and uncaring lads few and far between, but Carlos had quickly shut down every attempt with a swift glare and a possesive hand over you. You didn't mind. You only needed him and his attention and everyone else were merely annoying backnoise.

As it is, your breakup was made public through the urging of Carlos' management and his public relations team. You cooperated seamlessly despite being civil, to the point of rudeness, to their every demand.

How ironic was it that through his blatant act of wanting to separate himself from you and everything else that had to do with you; he made a declaration to the world that you were readily available.

Your dms were sure packed to the brim when you'd later had the energy to do anything asides from the basic tasks of taking care of yourself. You couldn't laugh nor cry upon seeing several of carlos' work acquaintances making their presence known in your dms. You even saw his former (and possibly current) teammates taking their shot.

You couldn't help but wonder for how long has he been... Non committal towards his best mates about your real score. They couldn't possibly muster up the courage had it been the true duration of your separation. Men aren't that proactive. They atleast had some base sense of loyalty.

Then again, it didn't take very long for him to be spotted with some model on his arm. He looked happy, invigorated... Annoyingly handsome. Fuck him and his perfect face. You wished you atleast threw a heel at him for being a dickwad.

Were you seeing other people out of spite or trying to prove yourself to him? You wouldn't exactly say so. You'd had an agreement with the well established, and good looking gentleman who had made you tremble and writhe under his tongue. He was incredibly lax and cool, and great company in every sense of the word. He made you laugh, he also made you cry just now.

And so while you made yourselves look presentable, you were first out the door while he waited a few minutes to make his entrance into the party again. You gratefully took a flute of champagne from a passing waiter, wetting your parched throat as you looked around as normally as you could. Blending in with the fancy people in their cocktail dresses and designers.

You heard footsteps approaching after a few moments. Another man spotted him, and he grinned in recognition upon the sight of the ever famous....

"Sir Hamilton!"

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itsabouttimex2 · 6 months

Note

Hello! I read your Lmk fics and they're awesome! 💗💗💗 If the request are open can I ask one of Yan Macaque wanting Reader as is apprentice or be their mentor but Reader doesn't want to and every time they deny his offer so he tries to convince them? (being the manipulator he is can offer them more power or strength) Thank you so much! 💖

Tough Love

Yandere Mentor Macaque

You know he’s outside. If it isn’t him, it’s one of his shadow clones. Either way, he’s keeping you up again, scratching at the walls and windows of your house. Today is the fourteenth day of this hell, desperately trying to sleep while Macaque tries to force you to come outside and confront him.

There’s a brief lull in the scratching, and right when you think he’s given up, he begins to pound on your window, rattling the frame as he does. You roll over and stuff your face into your pillow, hoping to block out the thunderous noise. In response, it only grows louder and louder. You bear with it for a few minutes, and eventually… it stops entirely.

Then your bed begins to shake.

You jump to your feet as fast as possible, reaching for something to defend yourself with. Instead, you find Macaque’s shadow clones snatching up everything in reach and pulling them away from you, leaving you completely unarmed and off-guard.

Something taps your shoulder, but you don’t turn around. You already know who it is, after all.

“Hey kiddo,” he starts, his voice surprisingly soft and calm. It doesn’t stay that way for long. “Here I was, starting to think you might be ignoring me, or something.” There’s a definite edge to his voice as he finishes, like he’s daring you to confirm his words. Instead, you just stay quiet. It feels like there’s no right words for this situation, nothing you can say to improve your lot.

“Remember when you said you’d think on my offer, bud? I’m still waiting for an answer. Kinda starting to lose my patience, here.”

He taps your shoulder again. An unspoken command is conveyed through that simple motion. Turn around.

You slowly turn on your heel, revealing your weary eyes and tired face to the demon. He clicks his tongue and huffs. “You really don’t know when to give up, huh? I could make you stronger than you ever imagined. I could teach you to protect yourself.”

You take a step forward, ready to protest and argue, to drive in for the final time that you don’t want or need his help.

But he beats you to the punch.

“Can I ask you something, kid? Why do you even bother to say no? Are you scared? Of what? You’ve got no one left, kiddo. I mean, if you did… they’d be here helping you, right? But no. You’re dealing with the big bad demon all alone. And you still won’t give in. So stubborn! You kinda remind me of an old friend of mine, actually. Difference is…”

“He has people who care about him.”

Everything freezes in place, all the color draining from your face as the world goes quiet. You have no retort, no reply, no defense. His expression grows smug, knowing he’s hit a weak spot. He takes a step forward, looming over you to really drive in how powerless you are right now.

“That’s what I can give you, kid. A place to belong. Someone to look out for you. Strength to stand on your own two feet. Why not let me help you? It’s not like anyone else is trying.”

Your throat tightens painfully, and tears prick your eyes. You try to take a few deep breaths, but your dry lips are stuck together. Every time he had made this offer previously, you had argued him to a standstill, countering each of his points with ease. Now, you can’t even breathe right. You can’t even speak.

He chuckles, and reaches out to pat your shoulder. “All alone, huh. Pretty rough feeling, isn’t it? But you don’t have to be alone. Neither of us do. Let me make you something better.” While you’re still unable to resist, he loops his fingers around one of your wrists and drags you outside with him. The shadows roil and writhe with each step he takes. You stumble along after him, only stopping to take a look back at your house.

Somehow, you feel like you won’t be seeing it for a while.

#platonic yandere #yandere lmk #yandere lego monkie kid #yandere macaque #Yandere Mentor #tw: manipulation

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insult-2-injury · 7 months

Text

Scream Queen - Part 1/2

Gojo Satoru/FemReader

When it comes to horror films, Gojo considers himself a connoisseur. He knows a good chase when he sees one, and he's had his sights set on you for a long time.

AO3 Link

NSFW, 6.3k wc, porn with plot, dirty talk, fingering, pussy eating, masturbation, mild predator/prey

Part 1

Gojo had picked the horror flick that night. Had insisted it was critically acclaimed. But it was just some campy thing where the heroine was running all too slow down a flickering hallway, her screams serving only to alert the pursuing monster of her exact location. The woman’s hair was as beautifully curled as when she’d arrived, her skirt hiked up to her upper thighs, tank top torn in a way that left little to the imagination.

“‘Amazing cinematography’ my ass,” you mumbled. You lay sleepily on Gojo’s couch, head in his lap, his fingers carding through your hair.

“You don’t like?”

“She’s tripped over six times.”

“Yeahhh she’s a little clumsy,” he agreed. “But try and think about it this way: every time she stumbles, her tits go bananas. I mean talk about breaking the fourth wall.”

The woman ran into a room, barricading the door with just a weak press of her shoulder, weeping hysterically. You pointed at the screen, livid. “I can literally see a cameraman standing in the corner! Critically acclaimed? Really?”

“Yeah. Critically acclaimed by my penis.” He frowned. “Did I not say that?”

“No, actually, you failed to mention that, deviant.”

The tug of sleep was beginning to draw your eyes closed, the warmth of his thigh and the drone of shitty TV lulling you into a dreamlike trance. It was a rare occasion that you didn’t like the movies Gojo picked out; in fact this was a first. He actually had a surprising eye for pretty things and a knack for picking out quality flicks you’d never even heard of. But this was… decidedly un-epic.

The sound of wood splintering through indicated the start of yet another chase sequence that you couldn't care less about witnessing.

“Couldn’t be me,” you mumbled, melting further into his lap with a deep sigh, eyes finally closing. “I’m fast as fuck.”

“Yeah?” His voice held more than a touch of amusement. “You’re alright.”

With a cursed technique that granted you a speed on par with the all famous Gojo Satoru, you’d fare more than alright in a horror film.

“You could never catch me.”

The fingers in your hair paused for a good minute before he responded.

“You think?” he said.

Your only response was a sleepy hum.

“Hm.” The fingers continued. “Alright.”

You were too tired to think much of it, honestly, or the fact that you had inadvertently issued a challenge to the most insufferably competitive man you’d ever met.

As your breathing slowed, his touch switched almost absentmindedly to the shell of your exposed ear, sweeping softly along the curve of it. Back and forth. Goosebumps tracked down your arms and you shivered, pulling your legs so tight to your chest that they knocked into his. You opted to ignore the puff of amusement from above – not like you could help that his couch was so comfortable.

Not to mention his apartment was bafflingly huge compared to your 400 square foot rabbit cage – with one of those open plan living spaces boasting enough area to plant a giant sectional couch right smack in the middle of it. But for how filthy rich he was, the place wasn’t ostentatious at all. It was cozy. Blessedly quiet, too, in comparison, even with the constant murmur of background noise that you were convinced Gojo would drop dead without.

His apartment had become somewhat of a home base in recent months for you to decompress after tough missions. It hadn’t been easy finding friends since your move to Tokyo. Not that Gojo had started out as anything close to one. You’d hated his guts at first, actually. Still did sometimes - your first meeting ending with you fuming and him grinning down at you like you were the funniest little creature. He had a habit of that, making people feel small, what with his 6 '3 string bean stature and a perma-smirk that did little to fight off the asshole allegations.

You weren’t sure if you could deign to call whatever this was a friendship, either, with the two of you pushing each other’s buttons like it was your sworn duty to do so. But the bickering was a strange sort of constant in your life, and jujutsu sorcerers didn’t get many of those. So you showed up here time and time again for what? Normalcy? Comfort? Something like that. You just took it for what it was, and Gojo was certainly never one to complain about company.

You dozed off to the thought of how surprisingly cushy his thigh was, even if he was built like a string bean.

A sharp pinch on your earlobe jolted you awake. In an instant, you’d snatched the offending wrist and pulled yourself up. “Ow! The hell was that about?!”

“Whoopsie! Sorry ‘bout that.” Gojo shrunk back from you, his sheepish apology so comically phony he reminded you of a kitten caught testing its boundaries. “Got scared. Hand slipped.”

“You’re so full of shit.”

“Sheesh. Careful, no second chances with this one.”

He was being extra annoying tonight, and you said as much. Grumpily, you released your hold of him and he made a real show of it: inspecting for bruises, rubbing at his wrist and shaking his hand out like he’d been in iron shackles. Worst of all, the movie seemed like it was only a little past the halfway point, which means he hadn’t let you sleep through much of it at all.

“Well.” You clapped your hands together. “you’ve just got to fill me in on what I missed.”

He inhaled.

“Sarcasm.”

His bottom lip stuck out in a pout, his head falling against his shoulder as he regarded you.

“You’re so mean to me.”

With a dramatic huff, you turned and collapsed back into the couch beside him, rubbing the sleep from your eyes with the heels of your palms. With senses so finely attuned to Gojo’s impulsive tendencies by now, you blindly knocked his hand away with your forearm before he could reach out to aggressively ruffle your hair in retaliation.

Just as smug as he could be, you crossed your arms and smirked. You’d found he often liked to justify inciting violence by lecturing how a good sorcerer was always on their guard. Well, guess what.

“Who’s the strongest now, bitch? That’s twice now I’ve blocked your ass.”

You caught the tail end of his quiet, mournful suffering – “could’ve seriously been injured…”

“You have a weak constitution.”

He pointed at himself, looking around the room as if to say ‘me?!’ You nodded solemnly.

“Uh oh, I smell jealousyyy,” he sang, fingers drumming a scattered beat on the leather behind your head.

“Yeah? What of?”

He raised his chin with a dazzling smile. “My dainty, effeminate wrists, of course!”

Despite your best attempt, you snorted a laugh. Damn if he didn’t look pleased as punch about it, too.

“Strongest,” you scoffed. “You can’t even stand up from the couch without groaning. Let’s get you home, grandpa…reduced to bone dust if someone tightened your watch band a little too hard–”

You let out an angry squeal when the fingers behind you finally seized the chance to reach up and tousle your hair– not in the cute little gesture of affection kind of way. More in the pure violence for violence sake kind of way. You threw your arms over your head, forehead tucking into your folded knees, shouting over his witchy cackle.

“Strongest guy at the bingo table more like! Stop. Stop!” You smacked at his accosting hand blindly but it was like swatting at a relentless swarm of bees. “THAT’S ENOUGH.”

With one final ruffle, he let you go. You threw him your fiercest scowl.

“I hate you.”

His fiendish laughter trailed into the low, drawn out sound of your name, hummed with a purring appreciation that had your stomach flipping oddly, twisting in knots. You froze. Dear lord, when had you gravitated so close to him? If you tipped your head back, you’d be lying on the crook of his elbow.

Quickly, you averted your gaze and got to work on your hair, smoothing down the devastation he had wreaked upon it. But strangely, his touch never quite left you, knuckles stroking gently at the base of your neck in an unfamiliar act of intimacy. You waited for him to launch an attack again, but he didn’t. Just quietly kneaded his fingers into your spine. The whole thing left you feeling a little stranded by what seemed like an unnerving insinuation of closeness, gaining an invisible weight to it the longer it went uncontested by you.

You blinked and spouted the first lie you could conjure up.

“You make for a terrible pillow, by the way.”

He made a throaty noise of disappointment, studying you a moment longer before turning his attention back to the movie, touch abandoning your neck. “Come into my home…”

“And I’ll walk right back out of it if you’re not careful.”

“Ooh, consider me scared!”

“You should be scared.”

“Don’t I know it.” His long form slouched impossibly further down into his seat, his fingers lacing over his chest before he barked out one startlingly loud laugh, as if he’d just remembered you’d said the funniest thing. “Careful,” he said, a self-satisfied grin beginning to creep across his lips. “You would hate careful.”

You frowned. “What–”

“Don’t worry about it, sweetheart,” he waved you off. “You can do whatever you want.”

Your jaw clenched at the pet name. But still it took a moment for your brain to kick back into gear. It was just… the way he’d said it that gave you pause, like he knew something you didn’t.

“Shit movie,” was all you could think to say.

“Yep,” he said, popping the ‘p’, sitting there still with a far-too-pleased grin.

Hit with a sudden bout of nerves, you turned to the coffee table, which was littered with a variety of sweet snacks he’d fished out of his cupboard. Stomach already full and strongly protesting to anything more, you panic-swiped two kit kats and jammed them into your mouth, taking the opportunity to scooch yourself away from him.

For a guy whose cursed technique allowed him to control space, Gojo was awfully oblivious to the concept of it. He was a taker; give him room to spread and he would take it unapologetically. It was no different now, his long form stretching immediately into your space again. His knee chased yours almost mindlessly, leg knocking into yours, bouncing there with a fervor.

“Stop.”

He looked at you with a raised brow. “Heh?”

“You’re encroaching.”

His gaze flicked down, noticing the personal space violation for the first time, blinking, making a small hum of decision. He leaned in close, murmuring into your ear. “Well here’s an idea, yeah?” He grabbed your knee with an outstretched palm. “Go on and walk right out of here, then.”

You could only pray the movie was loud enough that he didn’t hear your breath catch. God, his hands were huge, his long, spidery grip bleeding warmth across your lower thigh and knee.

The feel of Gojo’s breath swept across your cheek as he observed your reactions closely. And you couldn’t help but gulp as a different, more alarming heat burned its way slowly up your thigh like a lit wick.

A thumb brushed featherlight across your bare skin, the pads of his fingers beginning to crawl gently inward to tickle the sensitive skin at the inside of your knee. You quickly jerked your leg away.

“Here’s an idea,” you sputtered, fumbling to find anything clever to say and failing miserably, “stop… being the way that you are.”

“Uh. Alright.” Gojo scratched his head, pulling back to give you the space you thought you wanted. “Don’t know what you want me to do about that, really. Sheesh. What’s a guy to do? Not like I can stop being hot or a genius or whatever. You want me to just ‘say goodbye’ to my baby blues?” He cupped his palm over his mouth in hushed confidentiality. “My giant horse cock?”

You made a horrible retching sound.

He shrugged away your disgust. “Just sayin’, you’ve gotta see it to believe it.”

“Cut it out.”

It was like you’d told him there was strawberry cake on the ceiling the way his eyes lit up, rolled back in his skull, jaw dropping as he threw his head back in fake ecstasy. And you just knew what he was about to do.

Your fist pulled back to prepare what should’ve been a non-punch to his infinity.

“Stop or I will punch all the way through you.”

In an outrageously high-pitched, shrill voice, Gojo moaned.

“Make me, daddy–!”

The words were cut short by a choked grunt as he allowed your fist to connect to the soft of his stomach. Hard. His head lolled backward, a long, appreciative groan slipping from between an open-mouthed grin. The slender column of his throat bobbed as the raunchy noise dissolved into giggles. And you might as well have been struck in the gut yourself with how violently you yanked yourself back from him.

Because Gojo Satoru was beautiful like this. In that stupid, unfair way that made you want to run your tongue up and down his neck just once to see if he was made of real flesh and blood. You shook the thought from your head.

“You’re so weird.”

“You think so?” he asked, voice just a touch raspy.

‘Yeah. I do.”

His eyes rolled coyly to the side to meet yours.

“Brat.”

“Pervert.”

Gojo lifted his head lazily, perfect tufts of snow white falling across his forehead, a dangerous grin stretching slow and wide across his face. “Babe, you have no idea.”

Your face heated, nerves shooting off like a flurry of butterfly wings in your chest. You wanted to hiss at him. What was he playing at anyway? He’d flirt with the likes of a potted fern, but still.

It wasn’t something you could afford to think too hard on. This was just who he was: an irredeemable flirt, someone who couldn’t help but poke around the edges of boundaries just to test the strength of the fenceline. A guy like him wasn’t interested in the long term, anyway, and probably wouldn’t last with someone who didn’t want to sit around and stroke his vanity all day.

Besides, it was nobody’s business but your own whether you occasionally thought about how it might slap his thighs when he walked.

To your growing horror, you found yourself unable to tear your wide eyes away from his; gaping far too long to chalk it up to a mental hiccup. And he was eating it right up if his stupidly smug smirk was anything to go by.

You fell back into your earlier TV watching position, but instead of settling your head in his lap like before, you curled yourself beside him, the crown of your head pressing against his outer thigh. Safer that way, better to avoid his gaze. Mortification burned bright and unbearable in your chest.

“Stop staring. And stop calling me babe.”

“Why should I?”

“Because,” you said sharply.

“Because,” Gojo considered, nodding, seeming to roll the word out on his tongue. He laughed, insincere. “Because! You’re so right.”

You remained stubbornly silent. The pad of his thumb dropped to smooth over the deepening scrunch of your brows and you barely allowed it to stay. It was just a thing with Gojo; his hands always had to be fiddling with something, touching something. And you were usually the closest thing.

That was all.

“Ya know, you get all twitchy when you’re nervous,” his voice purred from above. “You nervous?”

Having little hope that he missed the small shudder that tracked your spine, you craned your neck to shoot him a warning look. But the sight that greeted you had you forgetting how to breathe.

Gojo was studying you with a shocking intensity, the glowing Six Eyes flicking between yours like he was carefully mapping you out. The ghost of a fascinated, greedy sort of grin curled at one corner of his mouth, seeming only to deepen at the sight of your unease. You dropped your head back into the couch, squeezing your eyes shut to will away the stone of want that had lodged itself firmly at the base of your throat.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Never been able to stop you before,” you snipped.

Gojo hummed, undeterred.

So sly that you hardly registered what he was doing until his shadow was looming over you, he repositioned himself, one leg sliding onto the couch so he could turn sideways to fully lean over your balled up form. With a quick move and a scooch forward, you found your head propped on his lap again.

A large palm cut off your furious protests, sliding to cup gently beneath your jaw, two fingers grazing over your clattering pulse. A calloused thumb slid across the seam of your downturned lips.

“Do you like feeling helpless?” he asked softly.

You stilled as a drop of startling heat slithered between your legs. His hand drifted down the column of your throat to follow the contraction of your nervous swallow, like he’d predicted it, like he was fine-tuning an instrument. Shit, you felt so small tucked into his lap like this.

You averted your eyes back to the movie.

“Serial killer question,” you said, wretchedly anxious with him peering down, every tiny response of yours seeming to be dissected and filed away for something sinister.

You pretended to be invested in whatever Oscar-worthy, nonsensical bullshit was happening on screen, the woman now captured in the monster's clutches. That is, until you were thrown headfirst into a crippling silence.

“Hey! I was watching that.”

The remote landed with a loud clatter on the coffee table. “Sorry, baby. Can’t have you holding out on me.”

And then suddenly, the real horror was right here in the dead quiet. The only light source was a soft overhead. With a burst of anger drawn up from a slowly drying well, you rolled onto your back, glowering up at him.

“Can I fucking help you?!”

“Mhmm.”

Your teeth clenched. “What are you even talking about, helpless?”

Gojo propped back on one hand and pretended to think about it. “Ah, you knowww. Scream queen style or whatever. When the cards are down and you’re all played out.” His eyes flicked down your form to where your hands twisted nervously into the bottom of your t-shirt. Then back up, voice dropping pensively. “So fast you’ve probably never felt it, though… being chased down like that, backed into a corner. Never been challenged the way you deserve, I bet. You like the thought of someone who can keep up with you?”

If the body was a chest of drawers, yours overturned all at once. Someone who could keep up with you… Challenge you. Like… him? Your jaw clenched. A desire you didn’t even know you had settled with a pulsing heat in your lower belly.

“So, what I’m hearing, and correct me if I’m wrong.” You stopped, centered yourself with a deep breath. “What I’m hearing is you asking whether I’d get off on being chased?!?

“Get off on it?” Gojo’s jaw dropped, acting as if the idea had only just occurred to him. “Wow. Uh. Dirty girl. Well. Sure I mean, yeah. If you want.”

Your nails scraped across the leather of the couch, trying to distract yourself from how ridiculously enticing the idea was. Because it shouldn’t be at all. Nope. Not to a well-adjusted person. What made it exponentially worse was that the longer you went without storming out of his apartment, the more Gojo looked at you like the cat about to eat the canary. And damn it all, you didn’t hate it.

No. You hated that you didn’t hate it.

“If I want?” you grit out. “First of all, there’s something wrong with you if you get your rocks off on the idea of hunting women. Elmer Fudd over here. Get a grip.”

He smirked. “Be nice, kitty cat.”

Using your elbows, you shoved yourself up, whirling around to sit on your heels so you could better set him on fire with your eyes.

“Why should I?!” you spat his earlier words back in his face.

Gojo went still, his slightly widened eyes flitting across your red-faced indignation. His gaze dropped to your lips as he chewed on his own for the span of a few breaths. Finally, he clucked his tongue. Whistled softly.

“Well, shit,” Gojo said. “Would ya look at that.”

Without an ounce of shame, his hand slid down the front of his pants.

“Wha–”

“Sorryyy,” he sung. “Mind of his own, it’s the darndest thing!”

You gawked at him in disbelief as he casually adjusted himself.

“Really, man?!”

“Oh relaaax. Ever seen one before? Wanna take a peek?”

You tried to clear the image of those long fingers wrapping his cock, bringing himself to completion for you with that same groan he’d demonstrated for you earlier. The thought had you too hot in your skin.

“I’ll kill you. They’ll never stop finding your body.”

“Oh, keep going, I’m almost there!” he groaned theatrically before he shot you a cheeky, lopsided grin. “Gotta give it to you, babe, you really know how to get a guy goin’. I’m half hard and we haven’t even started.” His head cocked just a degree further and suddenly the playful grin he sported gained a sharp, predatory edge, voice dropping in low warning. “Keep looking at me like that. All angry. Sweetens the deal at the end of this thing. Makes it allll worth the wait.”

You swallowed, throat like sandpaper. “Deal?”

“When I catch you.”

You should walk out. You should walk right back out, like you said you would.

Unfortunately, your silence spoke volumes. Frustrated on several different levels, your hands flew up to cover your eyes, fingers pressing into the lids until you saw spots. But nothing could distract from the hyper awareness of the ache between your thighs.

“What do you want?” you asked, voice sounding small.

A long-fingered hand encircled each of your wrists, prying your hands away from your face. He held them hostage, pinning them to your upper thighs so you couldn’t retreat as he leaned in. Your heart stopped when his cheek brushed past yours.

“What I want is the whole thing. Listen. I love it when you play dumb with me. Seriously I do,” Gojo murmured into your ear. “But I think we’ve been sitting on the same page here for quite some time now, yeah? All the fighting, dancin’ around the tension and whatnot. I mean it’s sexy as hell, don’t get me wrong, but we both know it’s just extra bullshit.”

Your entire being was up in flames, face so hot you wondered if he could feel the heat emanating off your cheeks, his own pressed so tightly to yours he could probably feel your jaw work out a response.

“Make your point.”

He laughed, dipped his head, the tip of his nose nuzzling down the slope of your neck. The tiny, experimental flutter of warmth against your skin made you twitch, but the sudden hot drag of his tongue had you violently shuddering, searching for purchase until suddenly you were the one holding onto him, fingers digging into his shoulders. You could practically hear his arrogant smile as he breathed you in long and slow, the following sigh one of genuine contentment.

Gojo leaned back to have a look at you, disgustingly pleased with himself.

“Sure thing. I’ll make my point,” he said. Your arms felt strangely bereft when he moved out of your space, falling limply at your sides. Casual as could be, Gojo settled back into the couch, one ankle perched over his thigh, fingers clasping together like the two of you were discussing weather patterns. “Here’s the thing. I wanna find you, chase you, and fuck you in that order. Think you’d like somethin’ like that? Being pinned down with my cock in you?”

His eyes dropped to the motion of the unsubtle squeeze of your thighs, a razor sharp smile spreading slow across his lips.

“Yeah,” he purred. “Always thought you might.”

“You don’t know shit.”

His eyes flicked back to yours.

“I know that pussy has to be nice and wet by now.” Another spasm of want rocketed between your legs. God, he was so arrogant. “No shame in it, sweetheart. Tell me I’m wrong and I’ll drop the whole thing.”

A palm settled on your knee, thumb stroking in a gesture of mock comfort. His voice was soft. “Orrr you could just admit you’re making a mess of your panties right now hearing me talk like this.”

It was like your strings were cut all at once, your chin tipping to your chest as you lost whatever self-preservation instinct you had left. “Shit,” you whispered.

A finger hooked into the bend of one of your knees, tugging invitingly. His hum was a soft, rolling lull.

“Come here and sit on me.”

You may have been cracking, folding beneath the weight of your desire, but nothing could have dulled the precision of the homicidal glare you leveled him with.

“Think you have it in you to shut up for like six seconds?”

Gojo laughed. “Damn, my girl gets mean when she’s frustrated, huh?” At your lack of response, his smile dwindled and he seemed to truly consider you, taking in your stiff form. His gaze fell unabashedly between your legs again, tongue running along his teeth in deliberation. “You want me to eat you out a little? Loosen you up?”

Your jaw clenched as the mental image tore across your mind: hooded blue eyes looking up from between your legs, warm tongue put to work lapping at your cunt – he always did like to stay busy. Shit, why could you conjure up that image so well?

Because Gojo had looked at you like that before, hadn’t he? Like he wanted to take you apart, piece you back together. You’d just been too blind to see it.

He continued, his other hand reaching out now so both were hooked behind your knees. “Yeah… Yeah. That’s what you need. About time, too, huh. Makes my dick so hard just thinking about it. C’mere.”

“I don’t–”

In a single movement, you were pulled off balance, falling flat on your back. He cut off your yelp of outrage, seized your ankles, spun and dragged you to the edge of the couch, your thighs now bracketing his. You squirmed, head spinning as you panted up at him with searching eyes. It wasn’t a comfortable position you’d been suddenly squeezed into, your head bent awkwardly against the back of the couch, trapped in a slouched position by the oppressive energy coming from the man standing between your spread legs.

Gojo loomed above. His fingers twitched at his sides, drawing your attention there and then directly over to the glaring evidence of his arousal pressing against the front of his pants. Your breath caught in your throat.

“Feels like I really don’t even have to check,” he breathed, hungry gaze trailing across your body like he couldn’t decide what to focus on. “Just know you’re soaking. It’s crazy.”

“Tell me I’m wrong,” he said again, tongue darting out to wet his lips. Last chance.

“I– you’re… F-fuck you.” His grin was deadly, eyes sparkling in dark victory. It was unsettling, how much you wanted to fall headfirst into that blue.

Gojo Satoru collapsed on his knees like he was about to start muttering prayers. He tugged you closer, the weight of his head falling against your inner thigh with a satisfied hum. Laying there so he could simply observe the slight quiver in your legs as he slowly drew his oversized palms up and down any bare skin available to him.

“Fuck. Look at you,” he murmured, breath sweeping across the damp crotch of your sleep shorts like he was talking right into your clothed pussy.

At the sound of your tiny, pathetic squeak, his shoulders shuddered violently. He slid forward, fingers hooking into the hem of your shorts, teasing there. His eyes raised with a hooded intensity, holding yours for a few heated seconds. Terribly slow, he let his jaw drop, tongue unveiling itself, and leaned forward to press it firm and flat against the thin fabrics covering your entrance, letting the heat bleed from his mouth. A groan choked out of your throat, coming out more as a grating wheeze, the noise met with a gleaming, wicked satisfaction.

“So the…” you swallowed thickly, voice so ragged it was almost completely foreign. “The thing with eating pussy is you have to remove my-”

There was a sharp, reprimanding smack on your thigh. “Don’t start.”

You half expected him to rip your shorts right off; you wouldn’t have been opposed. But Gojo instead rolled the hem down little by little, so torturously slow your fingers ached with how hard they dug into the couch with anticipation. He nipped, sucked bruises into the skin as it was exposed, gently guiding you to lift your hips so he could pull your bottoms the rest of the way.

His eyes danced in wonder across the arousal that you could feel being squeezed from you just by his appraisal. “Shit,” he exhaled, his warm breath brushing gently across your soaking cunt. You gasped, legs automatically attempting to clamp together. To get away. When was the last time you’d been this vulnerable to anyone?

“No, no. Nope. None of that,” he reprimanded, pushing your knees into your chest, spreading your legs more lewdly for his perusal. “Lemme see what I did to you.”

“I– I c-can’t.” You averted your gaze. It was all too much: the sight of Gojo Satoru kneeling between your legs, looking as if he’d let the world burn just to get a taste of you. He breathed across you again, his mouth so damn close that you wanted to start tearing at his hair.

“Shit,” he said again. “Pussy got hot hearing me talk about how hard I’m gonna fuck it later.”

You couldn’t help but let out a muffled cry when two fingers stroked down your slit, pressing against the entrance to your pussy, swirling there. He coated the tips of his fingers thoroughly in your wetness, raising them to the light just to slowly scissor them apart. Watch your own fluid stretch thin between them before going back for more, just lightly teasing. Your face felt impossibly hot, chest rising and falling in short gasps, chasing the stroke of his fingers, needing something to clench around, the slow spread of your slick too ridiculously loud in the quiet room.

“You always this wet for me, baby?”

“I d-didn’t think your head could get any bigger.”

Gojo hummed in amusement, giving no warning before he began to slowly ease two fingers inside you. A string of expletives punctuated the air as your cunt throbbed and clamped down in relief, accepting him greedily.

“Look at that,” he said, hooking the long digits inside you and pulling another whimpered curse from your lips. He took his time dragging them out, pushing them back in with an obscene squelch. “You’re a sweet girl letting me finger fuck you like this. Shit, look at your pussy suckin’ on my fingers. So fucking hot… my girl letting me do this to her.”

“You–You’re- I d-” You attempted to mouth off, snap back that you didn’t belong to him, but a targeted curl of his fingers cut you off at the pass.

“I know,” he crooned. “Feels good, doesn’t it?”

A thumb pressed into your clit and your back arched as bolts of pleasure shot up your spine, hips rolling with the pump of his fingers, chasing more. You needed more. You couldn’t even breathe you needed it so badly.

Gojo bit the inside of your thigh, moaning obscenely and latching harder when you yelped in pain and smacked him hard in the head.

“Ow. What the– what the fuck,” you gasped, although you hadn’t really disliked it at all. He soothed the sting away with little licks.

“Sorry,” he said insincerely, voice in shreds now, strained with an odd concentration. “Wouldn’t believe how many times I’ve whacked off to the thought of this right here. But now look at you spreading your pretty legs for me. Still tryin’ to act like you’re not starved for my cock after all this time. Making me wait like that. Dripping your cum all over my couch. Makes me fucking crazy. Filthy girl. You’re my filthy girl, aren’t you? Ffuck,” he hissed.

It took you too long in your blissed out state to realize his shoulders were rocking slightly, and not just from the push and pull of his fingers inside you. “And my sweet girl’s gonna let me hunt her down, isn’t she? Spit on her tits, slap her, fuck her from behind.”

You couldn’t see it, but there was no doubt now that Gojo was masturbating himself in tandem. Thrusting his hips, not fast enough to relieve himself, just to appease the torment. God, he was vulgar, he was disgusting. He was sexy. He was the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen.

With a wet schlick, his fingers pulled out of you. And you could only assume from the way both his gaze and hand fell down to his lap that he was spreading your cum along his cock. Fingers wrapping himself, Gojo choked on something between a salacious moan and a manic laugh. His eyes slid up to yours dangerously.

A quick flash of pink was all you got before he was leaning forward and sliding his tongue through your drenched folds. Finally, you let loose the keening cry that had been stuck in your chest. Your spine felt close to snapping with how hard it pulled taut, your fingers leaping from their death grip into the couch cushion to embed deep in his soft hair, unsure whether to push him away or pull him closer.

A long, appreciative groan came from deep in his chest and he sighed, relaxed further into his task. One hand fisted around his cock, the other wrapped round one of your thighs to draw you closer, hand splaying across your lower belly to better hold you down. The rough pad of his thumb found your clit, dragging tight circles.

With long strokes of his tongue, he lapped at the wetness collecting at your entrance. You wanted him to go higher, needed his mouth elsewhere, for that wet heat to replace the thumb steadily masturbating you. You dipped your hips to guide him there but he didn’t relent, tongue fucking into your cunt with the same aching slowness. It was like this wasn’t even for you.

“Gojo,” you said weakly. He just hummed, the vibration sending arcs of pleasure up your spine. God you were so close already. You just needed… “G-Gojo.”

Still he didn’t speed up, acted like he hadn’t even heard you. And it pissed you right off. He wanted the whole thing, didn’t he? He’d said that before. Gojo Satoru wanted you. Badly. He was good, but so were you. Gojo was a man who took. Had taken his entire life. He didn’t want someone who sat around and stroked his vanity. No. He wanted someone who took, too. He wanted you.

A rising anger loosened your tongue.

“Gojo, you f-fucking prick,” you spat. “Take your hand off your fucking cock and do this the right way.”

Deliberately, his tongue pulled from you, thumb still working you at an infuriatingly slow pace. A lazy, dangerous grin began to crawl across his lips, still wet with your juices.

“Careful,” he warned.

“I hate careful.”

Something dazed crossed his face then, like you’d struck him square across the face. He shuddered, his eyes darkening, glimmering suddenly with an almost terrifying devotion.

And then both his hands were on you.

Arms wrapped under your thighs, palms splaying to lock your hips down completely. A blessed heat enveloped your clit with a gentle suction, tongue fluttering where you had so desperately needed it.

“Ffffff” was all you could manage, your back arching, unable to even watch him like you wanted to as your body contorted with the pleasure shooting to a quick crescendo.

“Shitshitshitshit,” you cried, fingers yanking at his hair, uncaring whether it hurt him, shoving his face impossibly further into your pussy. A vulgar, encouraging groan left him and with one final suck and a flicker of his tongue, you were sailing into oblivion. You clawed at him, a string of filthy curses stuck in your throat as you spasmed against him. It was long, debilitating, and drawn out by warm, slow slides of his tongue against you as he continued to lap up what you spilled, murmuring soft praises.

Your spine laid flat against the couch again as you collapsed with satisfaction, the pleasure still buzzing like a livewire across your skin. You twitched with sensitivity when his thumbs spread you apart, observing the final, tiny convulsions of your pussy.

“I– you’re amazing,” he groaned, like he was imagining himself deep inside you. “God, baby I… I wanna ruin you. My fucking cock is…” His forehead fell between your thighs for a second, like he was gathering himself. “I’m so fucking hard.”

Gojo leaned back on his heels as you sat up, assisting as you pulled your pants back up. He helped you up on shaky legs, until the two of you stood looking at each other, him unmoving, just eyeing you silently with a dark intensity.

Gently, you pulled his face down to yours, placing a short, gentle kiss to his lips.

You pulled back.

“I really do hope you’re as fast as they say you are.”

And you disappeared.

#gojo satoru #gojo satoru smut #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #no use of y/n #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk smut

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atlasscrumpit · 6 months

Text

Dad Miguel O'Hara x Child Reader

(you're about five or six years old)

Miguel woke up in the middle of the night to hear a scream. He immediately jumped out of bed and ran to your room to see you on the floor sobbing your eyes out and holding your arm.

"Y/N! What happened?" He asked, rushing towards you and kneeling onto the ground.

"I-I rolled out of bed and landed on my arm." You managed to stutter out through your tears.

Miguel took your arm and gently examined it before you screamed in pain.

"It's okay, sweetheart. I think we need to go to the hospital, I know you don't like it but I'll be with you." He said as you shook your head.

"No! No please daddy I don't want to." You shouted in a panic as Miguel held your face in his hand.

"Love, let's take a breath. I know you're in pain but panicking will make it worse. I need you to be a brave girl for me, darling. I'll be right there with you the entire time, it won't be scary and you won't be alone." He said in a calming voice as you began to calm down.

"Okay, daddy." You whispered as he smiled, he picked you up and sat you on your bed.

"Stay here, darling. I'm going to get what I need and get changed then I'll come back and get you into a coat, okay?" He said as you nodded and snuffled softly.

Eventually he came back and helped you get dressed, careful to not hurt your arm anymore than it already was.

He grabbed a hand towel and made a make shift sling for you.

"Come on, love. We need to get into the car." He said gently picking you up in his arms and carrying you into the elevator.

You sat in the car trying to hold in your tears.

"Please, don't leave me there." You whispered on the verge of tears.

"Oh, sweetheart. I'm not leaving, ever, okay?" He said turning to you a little.

"You're being really brave for me, darling. After this I promise to buy you a new stuffed animal and some ice cream. Does that sound good?" Miguel asked seeing a small smile on your face.

"Yes, please." You muttered making him smile.

You had fallen asleep in the waiting room against Miguel's chest.

He gently played with your hair until a doctor finally called your name.

Miguel gently woke you up and walked you into the doctors office, you wouldn't let go of Miguel's hand.

"Let's have a look." The doctor said as you hid your face in Miguel's chest.

"Just tell me where it hurts, dear." The doctor said as he began to examine your arm, you screamed in pain and sobbed into Miguel's chest.

"It's okay, sweetheart. It's alright you're doing so well." Miguel reassured you as he wrapped his arms around you.

"We'll have to get an X-ray but it I think it's safe to say it's broken." The man said as Miguel nodded.

Miguel felt like he was ready to pass out, considering it was now 6am in the morning and all of this had happened at 12am.

But, eventually everything was settled, your arm was only fractured and not fully broken so it only needed a temporary cast.

Miguel drove home as you sat in the passenger seat and tried to stay awake, making Miguel chuckle softly.

"Go to sleep, darling. I'll carry you to bed." He said as your head lulled to the side and you passed out cold.

Miguel decided it was best to let you sleep in his bed for the moment, it was bigger and he could easily keep an eye on you.

You were fast asleep as Miguel laid beside you and watched you sleep.

He gently took your uninjured hand in his and slowly fell asleep beside you.

#Miguel #Miguel o'hara #Dad au #Dad Miguel O'Hara #Father Miguel o'hara #Miguel o'hara x reader #Platonic

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fairytsuk1 · 4 months

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Could you write something how alexis would deal with a needy gf? He seems so busy and all that he wouldnt have time for a gf and then theyd argue but make up afterwards ofc

alex with a needy gf

honestly yall you cannot show your neediness before the relationship or he's running for the hills LIKEE i'm sorry but he def does need someone mildly independent in order for him to feel safe to enter a loving space

once you're together, though? well he's literally locked in. he'd definitely feel so bad being with you and having to manage the server, his channels, and everything else. coming out to see you fast asleep on the couch makes his heart hurt. is it really worth the eyebags and sudden colds? to leave you on the couch as the sun sets back on the earth? suddenly, work didn't seem all too important.

he really starts putting in hard work once he realizes he can't have his cake and eat it too. it's thrilling! finally, his shoulders aren't clenched up to his ears and he has less headaches. you do all the things he needs.

you crawl into his lap like you belong there, and you do. he swears he could almost hear you purr as you nuzzled into his neck, "hey there, what's up?"

"just missed you," you mumble lazily, "i wanna stay in here while you work."

"babe..." he'll get distracted, you'll distract him, but your frustrated huff makes him think twice, "well..."

you're completely content to relax into your beanbag chair, slotted right next to his desk so you can lean against his calf and whine for his attention.

there's other times though where the tension is so thick you could cut it with a knife. alex wasn't an angry person. he never so much as yelled at you, but when he was stressed like this? you could tell it was eating him alive, and you knew that every rejection from his end was only the result of stress.

you weren't the one to take that, though. demanding he speak to you, scoffing when he rejects you, and finally you break by shouting at him, "i wish you would act like my boyfriend sometimes!"

alex's heart skips a beat in the worst way. he can see every rejection clear as day. when he declined to have lunch with you that day because he'd been too busy. when he'd said, "i really don't have time for this!"

you stand there, pathetically wiping stray tears of frustration off your cheeks while holding yourself defensively. he doesn't make a move towards you, fearing the dreaded step back you might take.

"i-i'm sorry," and you're still silent, "mi amor, i'm really so sorry."

you don't reply. sniffling and barely glancing at him. you don't step back when he approaches you, when he wraps his arms around you and he feels how tired he is. and how he feels better just hugging you.

"i know i haven't been paying you much attention," he whispers, and there's something in his voice that sounds watery, "i'm too stressed, but i can't take it out on you. my love, i am sorry."

"you're so stupid, alex! god, making me cry and everything..."

you wail into the cotton of his sweater, but he can hear the forgiveness laden through your words. he can hear every wonderful thing. your sweet breaths, the beating of your heart, the loving embrace of your arms. you care so much for him, and he cares for you.

"i love you so much, i really am so sorry," he says.

"i know."

"let me make it up for you, please?"

the tenseness washes away. the next morning, you're delighted to feel alex sleeping behind you, spending a few extra minutes snoring away into the pillow. the lull of sleep and warmth of your body lets him dream the sweetest of dreams.

#quackity imagine #quackity scenario #quackity x reader #quackity x y/n #quackity x you

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milkywaydrabbles · 7 months

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Number 15 for Alucard, it'd be so cute!

A/N: I don't think this is the fluff you were expecting LOL I promise it's a happy ending but the angst took over. In case you (or anyone else) was wondering the song is Cherry Wine by Hozier (i'm in my feels right now about this man I'm sorry) Anyways I hope you like it mwuaaah

"Sing to me again" x Alucard

Fight.

Attack.

Defend.

Alucard couldn’t think of anything except you and the baby while he was on the front line. The village had been so peaceful, for long he nearly forgot there were still monsters crawling around in the world. The stragglers that had grown stronger, the ones who persevered throughout the days, weeks, months. The stragglers that had already killed some of the makeshift infantrymen, the ones who have had nothing but time on their hands and are so hungry they see red. The stragglers that had Alucard running out to defend the village while you stay hidden away deep in the castle, barricaded and locked behind the safety of your shared home. They were evolved, instantly locking onto the dhampir who was the strongest amongst the men, bloodied grins widening: teeth sharp as blades that could tear through muscle and sinew with ease. Alucard steadied himself, gripping a little tighter onto his shield and sword, kissing its hilt and imagining your sweet face, the sweet face of his newborn daughter, and lunged.

You were frantic, trying so hard to stay calm if only for your energy not to be poured into the babe huffing and crying in your arms. You’d been trying to put her to bed, but how could she? How could she sleep when she felt your panic, your anxiety pulsing into the very air she breathed in? How could she sleep when your soothing rocking was more jarring than anything, your voice shaky as you shushed her? How could you ever expect her to calm her sorrows when, if you tried hard enough, you heard the incessant howls and screeches from the deadly monsters outside castle walls. You prayed, you prayed to all the deities and gods that could ever possibly exist to bring your Adrian back home. You’d never worry like this, he’s so strong, fending off the monsters with ease. But you’d never seen him so nervous like this either: having the heavy knocks of men on the castle doors begging for saving. The sheer strength of the creatures overwhelming them.

What felt like days passed, it could have been a few minutes, it could have been a few hours. You’re not sure, you and your daughter going in and out of sleep, waking at every creak and bang that was heard. You shushed and cooed, steadying yourself the best you could to maybe sing a lullaby to your darling girl. “Shh, shh, I know sweet pea--I miss him too. But he’ll be safe, he’ll come back..” You whispered, kissing her forehead as a tiny hand balled into a fist rubbed at scrunched up eyes.

Her eyes and words are so icy oh, but she burns like rum on the fire. Hot and fast and angry as she can be, I walk my days on a wire.

It looks ugly, but it’s clean, oh momma don’t fuss over me.

Way she tells me I’m hers, and she’s mine. Open hand or closed fist, would be fine. The blood is rare and sweet as cherry wine.

The cries lulled to a few whines and whimpers, holding her to your chest as you continued your hushed tones.

Calls of guilty thrown at me, all while she stains the sheets of some other. Thrown at me so powerfully just like, she throws the arm of her brother.

But I want it, it’s a crime, that she’s not around most of the time.

Way she tells me I’m hers, and she’s mine. Open hand or closed fist, would be fine. The blood is rare and sweet as cherry wine.

Singing has calmed you enough to keep a gentle bounce, baby slowly falling asleep in your arms. You internally sighed, thankful that at least the immediate worry of your child has been quelled.

Now all you can do is wait for your beloved.

Alucard ended the life of the final monster, hearing the victorious cries and hollers of the villagemen around him. He was grateful the battle had ended, retreating quickly to your shared home, finally able to hold you in his arms. Slowly, he opened the doors, knowing any sudden movements could stir his (hopefully) sleeping baby girl. He didn’t want to increase your stress, already guilty that he had to leave you in disarray. He made his way to the room he’d left you in, sure you’d still be in there: the nursery. The very nursery that you two built with your own hands, right next to his old bedroom.

Just like Vlad and Lisa.

As Alucard got closer, he heard small hiccups and babbles from his daughter, along with the soft singing coming from you. He recognized the song, a song you’d often sing to yourself when you thought he wasn’t listening. The same song you’d sing into his hair when he was half asleep. He pressed the door open, his heart stopping at the very sight of you whispering the song into your daughter’s fluffy mess of a head, eyes closed. You hadn’t noticed him, and he was grateful. He wanted to just take in the moment, all panic and anxiety of constantly thinking that something might have happened, that something might have gotten through the castle, all quelled the moment he saw you both.

He let you finish, giving you a moment before softly knocking on the door, your eyes darting to him immediately, tears forming in the corners of your eyes. “Adrian..” You whispered, voice heavy. He crossed the threshold, kneeling at your feet and holding you both without disturbing the sweet babe. “Oh thank god you’re safe.” You did your best not to cry, you really did, not realizing just how scared you were for his safety. But he was alive and well and back in your arms. “I’m here now, love, I’ll keep you both safe always.” He whispered into your hair, looking down at his baby with adoration.

“I heard you singing, love.” You hummed, calm enough now to put your girl down in her crib. The moment you sat back down though, Alucard’s head rested on your lap, hugging at your legs. You pet his hair, combing your fingers through the blond tresses. You hummed the melody of the song to him as his eyes fluttered close, breathing even. By the end you’d thought he’d already falling asleep, instead he spoke a whisper: “My darling, will you sing to me again?” Your heart clenched, and with a smile you responded:

“As long as you keep coming home to us, I’ll sing to you every day.”

#milk writes #adrian tepes #alucard #alucard x reader #castlevania #adrian tepes x reader #alucard tepes x reader #castlevania (2017)#milk flufftober

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dulcewrites · 1 year

Text

Fool Me Once (part 8)

Pairing: Aemond targaryen x reader (once again.. kind of lol)

Summary: Daella achieves a feat, while you reach your breaking point. Startling discovery is unearthed in King's Landing (wc: 5.5k)

A/N: ok… so a lot happens in this part. We have some shit we need to handle. And we are officially getting into the political stuff. I don’t really have much to preface this with but I hope y’all enjoy lmao. Please reblog, like, and follow. Also come and chat if you read anything you like.

Fmo masterlist

Young Landyn Massey turns out to be a much-needed addition while at Dragonstone. Terribly shy but extremely useful. Unassuming, clearly in need of a friend and quiet as a mouse; the perfect person to have to suit your needs.

His fascination with you had seem to spiral itself into hero worship for Quinton. A young member of the Kingsguard that stood out against the few older ones that occupied Dragonstone under Rhaenyra’s behest. He had even gone as far to ask for lessons from him.

“I am sure you can learn something from watching Prince Daemon,” you say over breaking your fast. “He must be tending to Jacaerys and Lucerys’ swordsmanship.”

Landyn shakes his head, blonde curls flopping with him. “He does not teach the princes.”

Quinton and you exchange a look.

“Their good father has not been continuing their training lessons?”

“Most of the training has been overseen by Ser Darklyn, but it is few and far between,” he shovels more bread and jam into his mouth.

For all the faults Daemon has, he is skilled with the sword and an accomplished warrior. Former leader of the Gold Cloaks that has also seen actual battle. Not taking it upon himself to help his sons after they missed years of training is an inditement on their relationship to you.

Dragons to their names are of course assets, but that does not mean their dragons will always be around. Protection for them seems of no concern for them. No protection for the boys, no attention for the girls. It makes you wonder what Daemon and Rhaenyra have been doing the past six years; the priority seems to lie in creating more heirs. Heirs that ironically bluster and hinder Rhaenyra’s claim. She has true born Targaryen sons that stand in clear contrast to ones she had before Daemon.

“I am sure Ser Quinton can show you something.”

Quinton raises his dark brows, and you raise yours back. He sighs, but agrees, nonetheless. Landyn leaves the two of you in the hurry once his lady mother calls for him.

While pouring more tea, you notice Quinton staring at you incredulously.

“What,” your shoulders slump. You lower your voice a bit. “I know it may be a bit much have a kid follow you around, but I think it is from a good place. If you really do not want to teach him anything, I can tell him.”

He shakes his head, before scratching the scruff on his face. “It has nothing to do with him. I want to know what you’re up to.”

You try to put on a look of confusion.

“I know you, and I know where this is going,” he frowns softly. “All I can ask is that if you confront him or ask anything or him, you do it with me in the room.”

Quinton’s distain for Daemon has been well documented since being at Dragonstone. He doesn’t seem to trust him nor Rhaenyra, but he manages to hold his tongue about the named heir. You lean over and grab his hand.

“I will not do anything with Daemon without you knowing.”

He nods slowly, choosing to believe you despite knowing how your impulses and restlessness seems to be carrying you these days. You received a long lecture from him when he could not find you in your chambers one evening. His tone softened when told him that you walked the halls of the castle after not being able to sleep. It was a particularly fussy night for Alaric, who you finally lulled to sleep.

It was not exactly a lie, the same way telling him you would not deal with Daemon without him was not a lie. You did walk the halls, not able to sleep. Since coming to Dragonstone, you have had the most vivid dreams. Fire, blood, rich black hair attached to a faceless woman. It keeps you up at night. Who is she, and what does she want with you?

You left out that you tried to get into Daemon’s study just to realize it was locked.

You don’t plan on confronting Daemon. He is too much of a wild card for that. Why confront him for the truth when there are other avenues?

———

The day flies by and by the night, you find yourself in Baela’s apartments. The two of you in your dressing grown, all ready for bed. She sat at her vanity while you stood behind her. You gently oiled her silvery blonde curls. It was a soothing pastime that you did with Daella too. There was even time that Aemond let you brush his hair before bed. You were always envious of how soft it was.

“May I ask you something a bit… personal,” Baela’s voice cuts through the peaceful silence within the room. You nod, meeting her eye in the mirror.

“How did your labors go?”

The question takes you a bit by surprise. Being a mother is such a large part of your life but having your children is something you push out of your memories. The whole experience was scary enough, not even mentioning everything going on in your life at the time. When you had Daella, there are was excitement but debilitating fear of being a mother. With Alaric, your mind strayed to bringing another child into this mess of a family.

You knew Baela lost her mother lost to do child birth; the last thing you want to do is make her more scared.

“They were hard and painful,” you admit. Upsetting her was not your intention, but lying does no one any good in a life-or-death situation like labor. “But the septas and maesters that tended to me were helpful, and in the end, it was all worth it. Daella took longer while Alaric came fast.”

She nods slightly before looking down at her hands.

“I understand if you have reservations about marriage and children. Perhaps you can speak with Rhaenyra about it. I am sure she had similar worries.”

The suggestion is sincere on your part. If anyone could quell the anxiousness of childbirth and fear over your life being expendable for heirs, it would be the Princess. Baela looks up, something dark flashing behind her eyes. You had always scoffed at the notion of her being like her father. Baela is all warmth and good-natured wit that you assume she got from her mother, but you see him in the look she gives you.

As if she is one bad day away from burning a place to the ground.

“You feel unprepared for it all. That is not unusual.”

You comb through her curls with your fingers. “But on the bright side, you will be our future queen.”

The smile you put on fights to be earnest. The realm will sooner burn than having a clear bastard running it. Jacaerys taking the throne means Rhaenyra managed to get through her reign. Both things seem like far-fetched aspirations.

“Rhaena and I always joke that she has the temperament to be Queen, far more than me,” she laughs, then a mirthless look comes over her face. “We also talked about ruling Driftmark together… when we were young.”

She waves her hand as if to swipe away memories floating around her.

“Well, it technically could be your birthright,” you walk a tight line. “You are the first born twin of the eldest daughter of you grandparents. Of course you would imagine yourself as Lady of the Tides. Especially after your wardship with your grandmother.”

She finally turns to you as you pick up a damp towel to wipe the oil off your hands.

“It is not that I mind Lucerys, not at all but…”

Baela trials off.

“I understand. I am not naive to enough to think that if my lady mother and father were able to conceive another child, a boy, that I would be able to inherit whatever my father leaves for me,” you try to steer the conversation in the direction you want. “It is why when the time comes, I hope that Daella and Alaric are both able to take advantage of the fruits of my families’ labor.”

You brush a stray curl behind her ear. “You are allowed to be upset at father, Rhaenyra, the order of things, or at your situation. You are owed that at least.”

A part of you doesn’t know if you were saying that more for her…. or for you.

Aemond is going to choke his brother to death. It would leave his mother down a child, and his nephews and niece fatherless, but he thinks it would be a necessary evil.

The beginning of the day was spent placating his mother and trying not to strangle his siblings. First, Helaena let Jaehaerys get a hold of one his books on the First Men. He confronted her about the missing pages, and all he received in return was a shrug.

“That is not my problem, brother.”

He was sure he was in one of her moods. Helaena, who normally had the patience and will of several people put together, all but snapped at him. Looking back on it, he should have asked if it has to do with something she saw. She hated to be disturbed immediately after a dream.

The rest of the morning went just as bad. His mother had forced him to break his fast with your parents and her. It might have been nice if Aegon did not show up. Chipper, cheeks flushed, and a letter in hand. He does not say who it is from, but the smugness permeates from him. The whole meal is filled with Aegon making pointed comments, and Alicent trying to steer the conversation in a different direction.

There was a sense of relief when both him and Aegon were excused from the table. The older adults chatting about remedies for the cough your mother had mom down with.

“Do you want to go train,” Aegon began to follow him from the dining hall.

“No.”

All he wanted to do was lay down.

“You know, when we were younger, I always hoped you grow out of the moodiness,” Aegon fakes a wistful sigh. “But here you are, a man grown who pouts and sulks his days away.”

Aemond snorted, that was rich coming from Aegon. If it was something he had in common with not only his siblings but with his mother, it was the ability to wallow when they want to.

Alicent used to tell him that certain people were meant to have lingering, lifelong happiness while others had to cherish their fleeting moments. She always said it in the tone that implied that they were the people with fleeting moments.

He ignored Aegon despite his brother following him into his apartments. Helaena was sitting on the couch, large black book sitting in her lap.

“I came to replace the book,” she holds it out, blank look on her face. “It is from grandsire’s collection, but I do not think he will notice.”

She goes to leave, but Aegon stops her. “Please tell our darling brother that he would be so much more handsome if he smiled more.”

Helaena shrugs off the arm he placed around her shoulder. She looks at both at her brothers in mild annoyance.

“Do not mind him Hel, he is just excited his weekly dose of sympathy and attention flew in.”

Aegon’s round eyes narrow a bit. “And where is your letter, Aemond. Or must you get updates on your children from other people.”

“She told me she was not going to right,” the words burn on his tongue and lips. You did tell him it would be better to limit communication. That you would always check in on your and kids’ safety through other avenues. But he feels like an idiot explaining it to Aegon.

His brother has a special way of making him feel that way.

“You two-“

Helaena tries to interrupt their argument.

“I know you worry about what I would do to your wife if given the chance, but have you ever thought about what your wife wants to do to me?”

“Aegon-“

Helaena tries again, more forcefully this time, but it is too late. Aemond shoved his brother, and received an equally rough one in return. He does not remember how they ended up on the ground, but he does remember feeling Aegon’s teeth sink into his flesh.

Helaena stood there for a moment, wondering how this was her life. The sight before her made her feel like she was four and ten again, watching her brothers fight each other in the training yard. Like then, the only thing she could think of was finding Criston. The only saving Grace being the master apartments are near Aemond’s.

Criston sighed at the sight of them but pulled them apart in easy fashion. Years of practice under his belt. The look of exhaustion that he gave them was nothing compared to the berating tone of the lecture their mother gave them afterwards. Auburn curls bouncing as she paced around the room.

It was the typical spiel that Alicent gave her kids when she felt the arguments had gotten too personal. Reminding them that they are family; fights will happen, but there is always a line. They are brothers they will need to depend on each other more than they know. She made them apologize to each other. Aegon and Aemond mumbled out apologies to each other, then ones to Alicent.

Now Aemond laid in bed. A cloth filled with ice lays over his head. Your perfume still lingers on the sheets.

Little does Aegon know is that Aemond does laugh and smile a lot. In the privacy of his own space, he is endlessly amused at how his life has turned out. The irony of the situation is not lost on him. It sits dip in his stomach daily. His days are spent rotating the same thoughts and people in his head.

You, the kids… her.

There was a time that meeting Alys was considered a breath of fresh from the monotony that plagued his life. He knows you would never believe it now, and perhaps he cannot blame you, but it did not start off as affair. Or even looking for one. The map was something that sat in the back of his mind for years till one day he just needed to get out. The day he met Alys gets fuzzier and fuzzier as time goes on. As if someone asked him to draw someone he had not seen in years from memory.

He strangely started to understand Aegon’s attempts at getting out of the castle. Having something that was just for himself. But in the end, nothing is ever just for him. There were moments he should have noticed something was not right. He is smarter than that. Maybe it was the common sense that ironically kept him so dense.

If he admitted it was too good to be true, if he questioned it the way he questioned everything else, the happiness would be ephemeral. And as manufactured of the kind he was used to.

Alys asked about you. He always chalked it up to sheer curiosity. He was curious about the men she had been with, why would she not wonder about the woman he had children with.

“At first I thought it was the blonde woman I kept seeing,” she comes and stands behind the chair Aemond was sitting in. “Then the more I saw her, the more picked up on the resemblance.

A gentle hand works up his back, and dances across his neck.

“She is pretty.” The hand worked its way into Aemond’s hair. “But the other woman I saw… oh, she is much more my type.”

Alys tugs his head back gently. A languid smile traced across her face. A smile he has grown accustomed to. Alys saw and knew so much; there was a slight thrill of not knowing what she was thinking all the time. But the biggest rush came from her honesty with him. Though knowing she thought about his wife left his throat feeling tight.

She lets go of his hair to sit near the fire, green eyes trained on the flames.

“If I only I could see her more…”

He wanted to ask what Alys saw when you showed up in her fires. Aemond is so selfishly interested in his wife through the eyes of other, even now.

The three of you will forever be deeply intwined. The roots of a dead tree bonded together till the rot finally takes over.

As days begin to blur together while at Dragonstone, you notice how restless Daella has become. Her energy and ability to strike up interest anything and everything was nothing new, but something felt different.

She begged and pleaded to see a different part of the island. You use it as an excuse to get away from it all.

Daella chats away, while skipping down the steps. She enthusiastically points to dragons flying around the fortress. It something you had have to get used to. At least at King’s Landing, to see any dragons you would go to the dragon pit; a secure place. Here, they fly and move amongst themselves. They are the true inhabitants of the island, everyone else are the guests.

She rattles off fact Rhaenyra had told her about Syrax. A bright look in her eyes.

Your daughter is so painfully good natured, it makes you wonder what a cruel image of fate for her to be born into this family dynamic. You like to believe she will grow up to be the good parts of you and Aemond. Same with her brother; praying that your mistakes will not eventually be theirs.

Once you two clear a rocky path, you swing towards the back of the castle. It was a back passage that Jacaerys had shown you one day.

“I want to see the flowers, please.”

You laugh a bit. Septa Margery had been trying to instill in Daella that being a lady requires saying please and thank you. Now most of her orders are at least followed by one of the two.

“We can see the garden, but you need to promise me you will eat all of your f-“

A guttural roar breaks up the conversation, and you freeze. It sounds closer than comfort. The ugly and throaty nature of it reminds you of Vhagar. A cry to send fear through those who hear it.

A large breath of hot air hits your back. It takes a moment for you to finally turn around.

“Oh, fucking hells,” you breath out.

The dragon has to be almost as large as Vhagar. Bronze scales with large tan wings. Golden eyes lock in on you and your daughter. You feel the tiny hands tug on your dress, and a face burying itself behind your thigh. The dragon begins to stalk slowly towards you, like a cat cornering a mouse.

This is not how you want to die, at the behest of a dragon. It would be twisted fate for that to happen. Far from home, on an island you hate with people you try to tolerate. Your children need you but you need them alive more than anything. She does not budge. Instead, she peaks her head from behind you.

The dragon stops in its tracks for a moment, and stares. Yellow eyes zeroing in, gray teeth shows as it pulls its mouth back.

“Daella, I need you to go,” you reiterate once the dragon begins to walk again.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Caraxes’ distinct red scales circling around the scene in curiosity. You cannot make out his rider on top of him.

The bronze dragon in front of you comes closer, as you try to take small steps back. It extends his neck, and you close your eyes expectantly. This is it you think. Your demise. You say a small prayer for everyone. For Alaric to grow up well, and your parents to not mourn you too deeply. You pray that Helaena lives a happy life, and Aegon finds his purpose. That Alicent’s life gets a bit easier. You do not want Quinton to beat himself up over this. You even send a thought out that Aemond finds some peace in his life so can take care of his son. You especially pray the Mother forgives for putting your daughter in this situation.

A loud screech blares out from the dragon as you feel the wind of breath brushing fiercely against you. You squeeze your eyes shut harder, waiting for the inevitably to come but it never does. By the time you finally have the courage to open your eyes the dragon has flown away. Rush past the castle and towards the mount.

The tears that welled in your eyes fall as you watch in confusion. You know little about dragons and chose to keep it that way. But from small doses you do know, you had never heard of a dragon pausing when it could likely eat you if it wanted.

A sense of dread pools in your stomach as you look down at Daella who had come from behind your leg, and stares towards the Dragonmount.

— — —

The event earlier has been on your mind all day. To the point where your palms inched to write Aemond. If anyone would tell you want you should do, it is him. But you worry a letter addressed to him and sent to King’s Landing would not go through proper channels. You had managed to keep all your letters back there almost farcically lighthearted in fear someone was watching you the way you are watching this family.

An idea pops into your head as you search for parchment to write on. If you cannot write to King’s Landing, perhaps a letter somewhere else may work.

A soft knock breaks you away from your writing.

“Come in Quinton.”

He always checks in on you before you go to bed. When the door opens, it is not inky brown hair that catches your attention, but instead bright blonde.

Daemon is still in his dragon egg gathering gear. Stipes of red and black adorning him. Quinton’s words ring out in your ear. Where is he?

“I hope I am not disturbing you,” he smiles softly. You pull your changing gown around you and shake your head.

“I heard the most interesting story about something that happened earlier today,” your heart sinks as he sits on the bench in front of the bed. “It seems that one of the dragons that normally inhabitants the Dragonmount has gotten out.”

You know you have two choices. Lie or admit to what occurred.

“Oh Gods, well I hope nothing bad has happened.”

The mirth on his face only grows. “You are odd little bird aren’t you.”

He gets up and comes behind you at the desk. Your eyes instantly go back to floor. He sighs as if he was hoping this conversation would go better, that you would choose diffently.

“Vermithor will notnstop till Daella acknowledges him as her dragon. He has not been around people for quite some time.”

A lonely, unruly dragon could wreak havoc if not claimed properly.

“She is just a girl,” it sounds pitiful as soon as it rolls off your tongue. But it is the truth. She is a little girl, your little girl.

“She is a Targaryen,” Daemon rebutted, “Being a dragon rider is a part of her blood. Not many get this opportunity.”

Your mind strays to Rhaena, and how much she hopes for a dragon. How much she hopes it will manage to make Daemon into a better father.

“You do not have to give me the ‘it is privilege to have the blood of the dragon’ speech. This is not about my daughter embracing something. It is about another dragon being accounted for.”

Daemon chuckles at your boldness, softly then louder. The laughing goes on longer than is comfortable.

“I am sure you have noticed how fond our future queen is of you. It would be of your best interest, and the best interest of your children, to understand what advantages can come from that,” Daemon’s voice lowers. “Creating the best future for your children includes aligning them with those who can properly take care of them.”

There something left unsaid in the air. Daemon speaks in riddles and tones that makes everyone feel like they are not in the plan.

“Daella and little Aegon could be betrothed,” his words make your head snap up at him. “And in the future, mayhaps that will benefit her and you.”

You flitch when you feel his hand brush your hair from your shoulder. The urge to let out blood curdling scream creeps up your throat.

“I trust that in the end you will make the right decision. It would be such a shame if something… bad were to happen because of it.”

Daemon leaves without another word. You had never felt colder in your life. A wave a nausea rush over you.

That night when you try to sleep, it is not the faceless woman who haunts your nightmares. It is Daemon, covered in Rhaenyra and Aegon’s blood. Crooked smile on his face and Dark Sister in his hand.

Aemond wakes to commotion in his room. He feels fingers pitch his nose, leading him to gasp for air. He expects to see Aegon standing over him, instead the figure is taller, skinner. A deep frown on his young face.

“Daeron?”

He is wearing Hightower green riding armor, hair askew from what Aemond assumes is the wind. Aemond glanced outside the window and sees the sun just starting to come up.

“What did you do?”

The question makes him stare at Daeron for a fraction too long. He’s sprouted up like a weed the way Aemond did when he was that age, all limbs. With blonde curls he makes no effort to tame like Alicent. Aegon’s smile and Helaena’s nose. Aemond likes thinking of his younger brother as a sum of all their parts. All their best parts, not muddled by life.

He thinks about Daeron of all people being upset with him, and a bile works up his throat.

“Because you can imagine my confusion when I get a letter from my good sister saying she is at Dragonstone, without you, and that she is now worried because and I quote ‘her little girl might have claimed a fucking dragon’.”

Aemond’s trance seems to be broken at that.

“Daella what!”

Aemond reaches for what is it Daeron’s hand, but he moves his hand away.

“What did you do,” Daeron asks again, this time softer.

“We are having problems.”

It is the simplest way he can explain it. It is too early in the morning, and his mind is still on his daughter possibly claiming a dragon. There is a feeling of relief of one of the kids reaching that feat. He knows the situation is not the same thing, but he would never want either of them to feel the inadequacy he did growing up without one.

Daeron sighs and sits on the bed next to him. “Apparently she claimed Vermithor.”

Aemond brows shoot up in response.

“Even your kids can’t do anything small,” Daeron laughs, before growing quiet again. “You need to fix this. All of it. Whatever it maybe.”

Daeron also inherited the light spirit Aegon had as a boy. Anger and frustration are not things that bog down the youngest child. Aemond knows he is upset by the serious look on his face.

—— —

Alicent was woken up by guards alerting her of Daeron’s arrival. The joy of seeing her son was quickly replaced by confusion and worry. Daeron always wrote before he came to visit.

“I just missed my siblings, and you of course,” he said brightly, giving her a kiss on the cheek before scurrying off to see his brothers and sister.

She knows there is something more, there always is with her kids. But her mood had only improved even more since seeing him. She naively wanted to embrace her son, who she misses dearly, without having to fret over why he was there.

Alicent always felt like she had to fight to keep her head above water. Lately, she felt like she could breathe a bit easier. She tried not to lend it to the letters Rhaenyra had been sending her. It made her feel like a girl again, in the worst and best ways.

Rhaenyra would mention something baby Viserys had done, and it was easy to forget the years of bad blood. Other days, she would mention Viserys the elder or slip in Daemon’s name, and Alicent could not help but think - sometimes I have not fully forgiven you.

She cannot fully put aside the years she spent alone at court. A young mother without her father. She cannot fully put aside the blatant lies. Alicent knows Rhaenyra does not make these mistakes or steps over others for malicious reasons. At least she convinces herself of such. But Rhaenyra does expect others to go along with the lies, even at the expense of their own safety. Some days, Alicent is sure selfishness is the only thing Viserys decided to pass onto his daughter.

But then Alicent thinks of Rhaenyra’s smile, and one always manages to spread across her face.

Their relationship is not perfect, but then again it has never been. Even in the throes of innocence when they were girls. So, she takes the letters in stride and writes back with the enthusiasm she reads in Rhaenyra’s.

Alicent goes to make her rounds to see Viserys. Over the years, she had assumed it was her sole duty to take care of him herself. The reigns had been lessened over the past few weeks. She let the maesters tend to him more, as she tried to prioritize her time to other avenues she lost over her girlhood.

She had begun drawing again, reading literature that had nothing to do with the Seven Kingdoms or diplomacy. It was nice. Entirely too nice. She should have known the Gods would punish her because of it. When she walks into the King’s chambers pass the lint covered model.

“Viserys,” she calls out softly. He is flat on his back, eyes closed. He is always irritable after being woken up, but he needs to try and get something on his stomach.

“My King,” Alicent tries again, sitting on the edge of the bed.

Viserys had not smelled right for over a decade, but something felt different this time. Slowly, Alicent leans her head over his chest, trying to her the murmur of a weak heartbeat. Seconds of silence go by before Alicent snaps her head up in shock. She covers her mouth as a choke sob fights its way up her throat.

Their were times she dreamt of this day. Of being the one that finally ends this cycle, smothering him in his sleep, slipping some poison. Even something with gore like a knife to his good eye, as revenge for her Aemond. But now that it is here, all Alicent feels is cold all over.

Viserys is dead, and she is once again alone.

You do not remember when the sleep walking started. It feels silly blaming your sleep problems on Dragonstone. A building you have no connection to changing your mood. The trip you insisted you must take leaving you debilitated.

The first time you catch yourself in the hallway. The next time in the dining hall. Quinton had insisted on making his night shifts longer, but you refused, not wanting him to lose precious sleep because of your bad habits. Your lack of sleep had made you snappy, and even more paranoid. The nightmares do not help. All you see when you close your eyes is black hair, and green eyes. The faceless woman image started to become clearer.

Shocking chill is what makes you wake this time. A flush of panic watches over you when you look down to find the bottom of your night gown in the water of the beach. The sun in beginning to rise over the horizon. Drudging yourself through the water is paused when you notice a figure on the beach.

The figure is wearing a flowy grey dress. Black hair, red lips curled into a smile. You blink wondering if you were still in the nightmare.

When you open your eyes, you then notice the sharp blade in the woman’s hand. It is a familiar knife. Sparking silver handle with a big sapphire on the end.

Aemond blade… the knife you got him for your first wedding anniversary. It all dawns on you. Who the woman in the nightmares is. Alys.

Your vision blurs red. You are tired of being someone who bad things happen to. Perhaps it is time to make bad things happen.

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64yrsold · 9 months

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ACHES 5. sunshower

18+ (please see masterlist for cw) aches masterlist previous (4)

“You live close to the bar,” he noticed, hands tight on the steering wheel. I wished he’d reach over, hold one hand to the inside of my thigh.

“Yeah,” I clasped my hands together, “Convenient, I suppose.”

“Sure,” he nodded, his hand opening on the wheel as he turned right. “You go there a lot?”

“I guess,” I uncrossed my ankles, and crossed them again. “Not a concerning amount.”

“‘Course not.”

I listened to the low hum of his car. He kept the radio off, which made me focus on the sound of my breathing.

“Do you live in the city?” I asked, since he asked about where I lived. And I didn’t want to admit that I did go to the bar a concerning amount.

“No, I’m just visiting for a bit.” He looked over his shoulder as he changed lanes. All his stops and starts were smooth, and he never went too fast around corners. The way he drove nearly lulled me to sleep.

“You have family here?”

“No,” he laughed, then cleared his throat, “No.” He flicked on the heating, adjusting the vent to wash over my stiff hands.

“So you’re gonna disappear on me in a few days?” I joked, hoping he understood my sarcasm.

“This car turns into a pumpkin at midnight,” he shrugged. Then, more seriously, “I’m here a week longer.”

“Well,” I patted his shoulder, “Thanks for giving me one of your evenings.”

“Two,” he corrected, with a shiny smile.

“That was more of a night, I think,” I returned his smile with a bigger one, squeezing my interlocked fingers back together so I wouldn't reach out for him again.

“Sure was,” he looked at me, winking. My heart rolled over.

We had slept together.

I swallowed, not unhappy, but feeling embarrassed. This was a new fucking low, completely blacking out and sleeping with a stranger in a random hotel room. I could’ve been killed. I could feel all the excitement of the evening seep from my pores, leaving an adrenaline-like emptiness. My pulse battered its way up my neck.

“We’re here,” he parked the car, “Ready?”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

“So, at that point, I wasn’t even really listening to her,” he rambled, chin resting neatly on his open palm. His fingers tapped his cheek steadily, a metronome which I watched closely, waiting for the seconds to dissipate. “I mean, who says something like that? So I told her–”

“Matty,” I interjected timidly, setting my fork on the pristine napkin, “I think I should go.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” he sat up straight, picking up his cup of wine, “Let me take you home.”

“Thank you, but,” I grimaced, clearing my throat. I smoothed the white tablecloth in front of me. “I think… I don’t think it’s working.”

His glass paused on his lips, “You don’t think it’s working?” He blinked slowly, voice distorted from the cup.

“You’re really lovely,” I smiled, and he set his glass down quickly. I sighed, “I just don’t think I’m the girl for you.”

His eyes looked down at his thumbs, which traced the edge of each other slowly. “Why not?” he was quiet, mumbling.

“Listen, I’m really sorry,” I urged, standing from the table, “It was great getting to know you.”

“Yeah,” he stood, reaching out, then tucking his hand behind his neck, “Yeah, you too.”

“I’m sorry,” I squeaked for a final time, letting my eyes linger on his furrowed brow. My lips formed a goodbye, but I couldn’t manage to speak it aloud. I turned, leaving him in the restaurant alone. My heart was thudding painfully in my chest.

“Wait!” I heard him call, and I stopped on the sidewalk. I didn’t look back, frozen as I heard him run up behind me. “I didn’t sleep with you.”

I turned to face him, his eyes wide with panic.

“Oh.”

“No,” he shook his head forcefully, knocking a few curls loose onto his forehead. “You were drunk. I… I would never.”

“I thought you were drunk too,” I picked at the corner of my thumb, ripping the skin into jagged pieces. “You were drunk when we left the bar.”

“I, um,” he was frantically scraping his hands through his neatly gelled hair, “I just sober up quickly, to be honest.”

“Okay,” I tried to find some sort of courage to tell him I had completely blacked out.

“I don’t know why I fucking winked at you,” he laughed, without humour. “I’m so fucking nervous, I’m trying not to fuck this up.”

“I don’t want to either,” I assured him, noticing his shoulders relax as I spoke. He thumbed at the corner of his mouth, pursing his lips. His hands were busy without a cigarette occupying them.

“I really like you,” he took a careful step forward, slipping a hand behind my elbow. He held it there gingerly, like a hummingbird over a flower. “I got you something.”

“What?” I frowned, “You don’t need to buy me anything.”

He smiled, “Just let me show you first.” He reached into the pocket of his jacket– which I was still wearing– pulling out a small jewelry case. It was sleek and expensive. He looked at me with a star in his iris. “Marry me?”

“Um,” I sputtered, my mouth opening and closing stupidly.

He laughed quietly, “Kidding.”

“Oh, fuck you,” I sighed, then fell silent as he opened the case. Inside was a delicate silver bracelet, simple with small diamond stars dangling at even intervals. “I can’t take that.”

“It might be a bit big,” he fussed, taking the bracelet out of the case, “Give me your arm, sweetheart.”

“I can’t have that,” I traced my fingers over my wrist, shaking my head. The bracelet sparkled like sunshower between his fingers.

“The diamonds are fake,” he reached for my hand, clasping the bracelet around my cold wrist easily. “Fits perfect.”

“Promise they’re fake.”

“They’re fake.”

“Because if–”

“I want you to have it, please. To remember our first night.” His eyebrows tucked into each other, pleading.

I didn’t remember our first night. “Okay.”

His hands were still on my wrist, his thumb pressed to the inside of it.

“I can take you home now.”

“Okay.”

His palm moved to cover mine, holding my hand firmly. He pulled me to his car, opening the door for me. When I fastened my seatbelt, he stared down at me, leaning against the roof of the car. I looked up at him, watching his mouth twitch and threaten to speak. He just let his pupils fill his irises, licking his bottom smiling lip. He closed the door.

-> next (6)

#matty healy #the 1975 #the 1975 fanfic #matty healy fanfiction #matty the 1975 #matty x reader #matty healy x reader #64matty

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starsomens · 6 months

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I have a fluff request: the guys are on tour, you think it ends a few days later but Noah tries to surprise you by coming home a day or two earlier. When he walks in the house and sees you and your daughter asleep on the couch with a children’s show on in the background and his heart melts at the sight of you both sleeping peacefully so he decides to cuddles up next to both of you. Maybe in the morning he wakes up and makes breakfast, and you wake up to your daughter waking you up saying “Mommy! Wake up! Daddy’s home! He’s making pancakes!” Before running back to help Noah finish making breakfast.

A/N:I am so glad dad!noah started here now my page is full and I love it. also I think thus came out more like a drabble

It was easy to say today was a busy but fun day. Noah was still on tour and you and your daughter Eden had been feeling bit down. So you had decided tot ell her to get dressed and have a little outing. You had gone out for some food, a little shopping and ice cream after. Once you were home you ordered some pizza and watched some movies together.

Even though the day had started rough, it ended pretty well. Eden had fallen asleep in your arms, you were planning on getting her to bed but you couldn't help the sleep that was overcoming you. You had one of Noah's hoodies on and the smell that lingered on it always lulled you to sleep.

At around 1 am the door slowly opened, and Noah was thankful he replaced the hinges. He had told you he'd be home in about a week, but he was actually coming home early. He knew he wanted to surprise his girls by coming home early. He was excited to see Eden run into his arms and to go and find you and just hold you both after so long. But when he had gotten home, he was greeted by a movie still playing and his wife and daughter fast asleep on the couch.

He smiled at the scene, just feeling happy to see you both in person rather than through a screen. He sets down the gifts he brought for you both on the coffee table, and his bag near the end of the sofa. He takes he shoes off and strips from his hoodie, leaving him in a tank top. He grabs a blanket for himself a large one to cover you and Eden. He snuggles into your side and breaths in your scent, one of the many things that he missed. As much as he'd want to wake you and spend the night talking with you, he was just as exhausted as you both were.

Noah POV

Morning came a lot sooner than I had expected. Y/N and Eden were still asleep and it was just around 8 in the morning. I get up and kiss them both on the head and get up for a shower. Afterwards I made sure they were still sleeping before heading to the kitchen to make some breakfast. I grab the pancake batter, sone eggs and pancakes. I really did miss the tranquility of home, the smell, the look, the memory and of course my girls. It just feels great to be home, done with tour and I can finally relax and rest.

The sizzle of the bacon filled the house but Y/N, was still asleep, she deserves it. She’s a great mom and a great wife, I’m just grateful I was able to get here sooner than expected

“Daddy?” A small voice came form behind me and I turn around to see Eden standing in her princess pajamas. I smile at her and squat down “daddy!” She ran to me and I catch her in my arms,

Third pov

“Hello my princess” he holders tight, missing how she filled his arms. Sometimes he looks back on the last 5 years and how much she’s grown from the tiny baby you delivered.

“You came home!” She cheered with the biggest grin which was ultimately his best and favorite part of working hard to get home sooner

“I’m home baby,” he sighs setting her down and going back to the stove “Eden, how about you go and tell mommy what’s going on so we can have some pancakes?” He smiles at her and she nods her head before darting out of the kitchen. He smiles to himself hearing her tiny feet hit the ground to get you.

You were in a deep sleep that you could have stayed in there forever….that was until Eden literally jumps up on you

“Mommy!”

“E…sweetie please don’t jump on mommy” you groan from the weight of your daughter in your stomach

“But mommy, daddy’s home and he’s making pancakes” she nearly shouts at you “get up so we can have pancakes!”

That's when it had finally hit you. Their bags on the floor, the air smelled like bacon and pancakes, and there were two gift bags on the coffee table. the only time that there were gift bags on random Tuesday morning was when Noah got back from tour.....

You jump up from the sofa and run into the kitchen to see Noah holding Eden in his arms as he took the bacon off of the pan and onto a plate. He turned to you and smiled

" Morning Sleeping Beauty is about time you got up. Didn't want the food to get cold" You smile and shake your head because this was just such a noah thing to do. You walk over still big groggy from sleeve and wrap your arms around him. You take in his fresh scent and convey yourself relax and feel at peace now that he's back at home.

You raise your head and puck it your lips for a long awaited kiss you had not had for a couple of months. Eden verbally ews as you guys kiss. You pull apart and smile at her and attack her with kisses from both sides. as get back for thinking her parents were gross for showing love at each other as get back for thinking her parents were gross for showing love at each other

"Come on, Let's ease I could give you guys your gifts from tour"

Breakfast was good as it always was, but even better now that he was back home. He spoke about tour where they had gone and the people they had men the sites they had seen. He showed you pictures that they had taken and small trinkets from different states.

After breakfast, you had told Eden to go and brush her teeth and to change out of her pajamas while you helped Noah clean up. But while Eden was gone, Noah actually directed you to the living room and handed you your bag

"I thought it'd be better to open it without Eden here" he winked At first you hesitated to pull out what was out of the bag, knowing that your husband could have bought anything, period from something like beautiful lingerie to possibly a gag that was inappropriate for Eden to see. But seeing as you couldn't waste time, you. pull out whatever was in there and hold it open, gasping at what he had bought you.

It was a velvety red lingerie, one piece that had the nipples and crotch cut out. It even had a lacey skirt over it. Your jaw was slack at what he had purchased

" Well, I'm glad you told me to open it while she wasn't here, or else I'd have to explain exactly what this is" You quickly fold the one piece back into the bag noticing there was one more item at the bottom. It was rope.. vibrant red rope that seemed to not hurt, but was strong enough to keep you from breaking loose.

" Well, just know when she's in bed. I wanna see you try that on and we can put the other item to use as well" he smirked "no returns, It's your measurements i checked" he kissed your cheek

"Oh my god...i can't believe you" you chuckle

" You're gonna expect me not to get something sexy for my beautiful wife after I've been away from you for months on end?" He asked taking the bag from your hand as Eden came in. He puts your bag aside onto the kitchen table. and grabs Eden's bag and proceeds to act as if nothing happens. Noah would be the death of you, but he? would also be the death of you if he was never there. You paused for a moment as you watch him pull out a beautiful, large teddy bear for your daughter from the bag, making her eyes light up like Christmas lights. and that. alone brought a smile to his face.

A handsome man with immense talent, a soft heart for his daughter. And of course, endless lust for you. What more could you have asked for?

「✨Taglist✨」 @lilhobgobbler @cncohshit @vir-tual @tdopomymind @concretenoah @misspygmypie @fvckmeorchokeme @lust-for-sacher @thescarlettvvitch @cind6547 @itsmrsfuentes @purple-lili @ima1986

#bad omens #noah sebastian #noah sebastian x reader #star’s anons✨#bad omens cult #noahsebastian #bad omens fanfiction #noah sebastian as a dad #noah sebastian fluff #dad Noah Sebastian

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samuel-de-champagne-problems · 1 year

Text

𝐒𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐚, 𝐁𝐚𝐛𝐲 — 𝐒𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐑𝐞𝐢𝐝

Summary: Spencer and Reader are up late wrapping last minute presents and sharing secrets. Content Warning: 16+: Pregnancy, parenthood, tame bedroom dirty talk Word Count: 2.1K Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem Reader Christmas Fic Masterlist

Santa, Baby

The house, decorated with homemade Christmas garland and toddler made Christmas ornaments, was uncommonly quiet. A hush fell over the small, yet cozy Cape Cod as snow piled in a picturesque blanket on the yard. A week old snow-family stood lopsided out on the front yard, welcoming the falling snow. Spencer’s quiet slumber and warmth threatened to lull Y/N to sleep. She hesitantly flipped over her half of the sheets, regretting that she neglected to wrap the plethora of presents bought for their kids.

Still sleeping deeply, Spencer’s hands glided across the warm flannel sheets, seeking out any part of Y/N he could reach. He hummed blissfully when his hands found Y/N’s waist. He slipped under the pajama shirt and his cold hands were icicles against her bare skin.

“Spence,” she groaned, watching intently as Spencer’s eyes fluttered open, “Go back to sleep. You’re exhausted and–”

“And I’m going to come wrap presents with you.” Spencer injected. He smiled softly in the dark. His kind eyes melted whatever resolve she clung onto. “Come on, I wanna help. Besides, someone’s got to help you eat the cookies.”

Y/N smiled, knowing well enough that she already decided to give into Spencer the second he fluttered his eyes open. “Come on then. I’ll let you come if you finish off that spiked cider with me. There’s two glasses and a plate of sugar cookies that have our names on it.”

She leaned across the bed, kneeling into the mattress, and knotted her fingers in Spencer’s hair. He welcomed the touch, placing his hands on her forearms. Spencer’s hair was messy with her fingers running through it, but he didn’t care to fix it. Instead, he allowed himself to melt into the solace that fell between them. He felt her cool, peppermint breath tingle his lips as she made her way across his jaw and down toward his collarbone.

“You know,” Spencer started, a playful smile materializing on his well-kissed lips, “At the rate you’re going we’ll never make it downstairs.” He looked almost proud of himself, with Y/N straddling his waist and his delicately strong hands bracing her hips. Smiling knowingly, Y/N leaned forward, nipping Spencer’s ear. She planted kisses against his soft skin, taking note – and great pleasure, when he groaned at her ministrations.

“You know,” she said, mimicking Spencer’s coy tone just moments before, “At the rate we’re going, we’ll have to find ourselves another stocking for next Christmas.”

She didn’t need to look at Spencer to know that he was blushy fiercely. To think that the thought of having another baby with her, while they already had two sleeping soundly the next room over, made him blush was almost too much for Y/N to handle. She stood up, feet on the ground as she planted herself between Spencer’s legs.

“Does that excite you, Spence?” She whispered in his ear, her voice so low and so sweet that it made his skin crawl with anticipation. Y/N’s mouth found him in the dark, yet again. She nipped at his lower lip, catching it in between her teeth and tugging expertly as he moaned into her mouth. As fast as it all started, riddled with sleeplessness and marred by procrastination, Y/N left him. Spencer was cold, missing the warmth of her body pressed into his and did the only reasonable, logical thing: followed his wife.

He heard her first. She stirred in the kitchen, making more sound than she intended as she heated up something on the stovetop. Spencer watched from the living room, the pile of unwrapped toys and gifts kept him company.

Spencer, from his childhood to early adult life, never had a reason to like Christmas. It never felt like a true white Christmas in Las Vegas, anyway. He supposed that the lack of snow and chill was the least of his worries growing up, as was having a cheery Christmas. But Spencer, much older, much wiser was a dad. And as a father, he’ll be damned if his children don’t get the best Christmases ever.

Lost in thought, Spencer hardly noticed when Y/N sat beside him. He felt the couch sink in, alerting him that someone was next to him. He turned facing Y/N in the glow of the Christmas tree lights. Spencer always loved the way she looked, but there was something about the way the multicolor Christmas lights twinkled in the reflection of her eyes that made his wife particularly stunning.

“You look worried.” Y/N noticed, handing Spencer a cup of steaming spiked cider. The spices and heat tickled Spencer’s nose and warmed his hands as he grasped it.

He shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly, “Just thinking.” He hoped that it would be smooth enough to not have to go deeper into what was turning the cogs in his mind. Even though he tried to stop it, Spencer’s mind kept replaying. Even though it was just seconds earlier, his mind was a kaleidoscope of flashbacks of her body writhing under his and echoes of her teasing him, whispering into his ear taunting him with what they both know they desperately want.

“I can tell,” Y/N teased, sipping the hot cider, “Well, we do have a lot of presents to wrap. And it’s still early so we can put on one of those overly competitive baking shows and just vent. You’ll go to town wrapping Auggie’s clothbound set of Chronicles of Narnia and I’ll just listen to you, love.”

A smile, although fraught and shy, tugged at Spencer’s lips. Y/N had an uncanny ability to put him at ease. He looked at her, from across the steaming spiral of cider, through the multicolored, candy-coded haze of Christmas lights and kissed her cheek.

“Sounds like a plan.” He said, whispering against her cheek. He kissed the corner of her mouth, which hid a smile of her own.

Y/N handed Spencer the scissors and roll of Christmas themed wrapping paper. Carefully, Spencer laid out the present, a toddler’s toy cash register set with play money, on the coffee table.

“Watch the drinks, Spence!” Y/N said, nudging Spencer as she tucked her feet under her knees and brought her drink to her lips. “I’ve been home with a 6 year old and a 3 year old all week. You’ll be making me another one if you spill this.” She warned with a teasing glare.

Spencer nodded, sipping the hot drink from his own cup and holding it in his hands. He felt the warmth of the cider slide down his throat and land in the pit of his stomach. He watched silently as Y/N wrapped the remaining presents. He felt himself slip away again, mind stolen from the moment by the worry that placed itself front and center of his thoughts.

A tentative worry plagued Spencer’s face as he threw Y/N a cautioned look. “Is it hard on you? I mean, God, that’s a stupid question. I’m gone a lot, I know it’s hard on you without you having to tell me. I just mean, if we were to have more…”

“You want to have more kids, Spence?” Y/N asked, eyes open wide, despite the hefty amount of booze that once filled her drink.

“Yeah, I mean...” Spencer stammered, running a hand through his hair. “It’s just. I know it was dirty talk, or whatever,” he blushed, reliving the thrill that flooded his system earlier, “I just think we make really neat kids. And you’re such a good mom. And I love being a dad. I know it’s a lot, on you in particular. But I’ll scale back at work. I’ll get a new job if you want. It might be nice to be home more for August and Ellie and you, regardless of what happens or doesn’t happen.” Spencer said, looking at Y/N’s eyes, searching for something lost in the lines that crowd her face.

“Spence,” Y/N said, eyes tearing involuntarily as Spencer’s hands came to rest on her kneecap, “I don’t know how you do it, love, but you always know exactly what to say. I wanted to wait till tomorrow. I had this whole thing planned. It’s kind of stupid in hindsight, but you would have thought it was cute.”

“Tell me what?” Spencer dared, eyes frantically watching as Y/N rummaged into her basket of yarn, “Y/N.”

“Spencer Reid.” She said, taking his hands into her hands with such care and love Spencer would have thought he was built of something fragile and precious. “You’re the absolute love of my life. I think I know you better than you know yourself sometimes, but for this,” her voice choked a little, hitched on the words that tumbled out without care or grace, “I’ll admit for this, I was a little scared. Three kids…is hard. It’s a lot of work, but there’s no one. Not a single other soul on this planet or any of the universes I’d rather be doing this with.”

Spencer sat there, hot mug of cider still in hand, watching in awe as his wife placed a small box in his lap. Carefully, tentatively Spencer laid the cup down on the coffee table and shot a look full of love for his wife toward her.

“Is this what I think it is?” Spencer asked. His fingers delicately gripped the red satin ribbon and tugged it apart.

“Just open it, Spence!” Y/N whispered-screamed. She watched with worry and excitement casting brilliant and stunning shadows on her face.

Spencer pulled off the lid and revealed the contents of the package. He was stunned. He licked his lips, a wave of disbelief washed over him as he registered exactly what the little plastic test with two pink lines.

“Is this…is this real?” Spencer questioned. He was hesitant, still conditioned to face good things that happened to him with both an err of caution and disbelief. “We’re having….you’re pregnant?”

The Christmas tree lights danced in the background like tropes of multicolored ballerinas on pointe shoes cascading their twinkling light against the cream colored wall as a backdrop. Her face, perpetually angelic, crinkled at her eyes and mouth and nose with a potent mixture of happiness and love. Her laugh was what broke Spencer’s resolve. He felt a thud of weight against his body and the air knocked out of him as Y/N launched herself into his arms.

He held her gently, unable to whisper how happy…how genuinely happy he felt in the moment. Spencer’s eyes leaked tears that fell against Y/N’s shoulders. He could smell the cinnamon and maple syrup against her breath as he kissed her. It was a soft kiss, the kind of kiss that happened all the time between them.

“So the cider,” Spencer started, worry and confusion plaguing Spencer’s face, “I’m guessing your’s wasn’t spiked.” Y/N laughed, careful to keep the noise at a low volume as Spencer held her in his arms. His hand rested on her lower abdomen as wonder and care filled his eyes.

“No, neither was yours. You’re too much of a lightweight to tell something so important while tipsy.” Y/N explained. “But um, this is a happy thing right for you too?”

Spencer grabbed Y/N’s hand, kissing the place where she wore her wedding ring during the day. He traveled down her hand and kissed each individual knuckle. Spencer turned Y/N’s palm over, pecking and peppering kisses against her skin.

“Sleeping upstairs,” Spencer started, “are two people of three I love most in this world. And now you’re telling me there’s going to be a fourth. I can’t tell you Y/N how happy that makes me.”

Spencer’s heart swelled with pride as Y/N’s teary face interrupted the spiral of his mind. “Oh baby,” she whispered, leaning forward and planting kisses on Spencer’s neck, “I’m so happy you’re happy. I was worried.”

Spencer tucked a strand of his hair into his ear and kissed her temple. “Happy news, bad news, everything in between we are in this together, sweetheart.” Spencer reminded her. “You know you’re the love of my life right? Anything you do will make me just about the happiest man alive.”

“You are such a sap,” Y/N said teasingly, although the smile plastered to her face told a completely different story. “But you better know you make me ridiculously happy, my love.”

Spencer sank into the couch, comforted by the news that filled his heart with love and chest with pride. He rubbed shapes into Y/N's side as they whispered about what was to come. Eventually, silence. fell upon them as as their heartbeats melded into one.

TAGLIST

@reidsbookclub @reidslovely @coldbrewat3am @fightingdragonswithwho @hotchandspencearedilfs @sadgirlml @goldentournesol @spencerslibrary @foxy-eva @paperbackprettyboy @reidselle @alexxavicry @justlivinginadaydream @tragiclilb @reidsmilf @givemeth @reidslibrarybook @mrs-dr-reid @spencerreidsmommy @spencer-reid-wonderland @radiant-reid

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x fem!reader #dr spencer reid #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fluff #my writing #merry ficmas rosies version

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hutahuta · 5 months

Note

Also thinking ab a rainy day indoor date/cuddle session with Pavia <3 His voice line about liking rainy days makes me wonder what he will do with his partner/gf on a rainy day.

P.AGE OO.6 — 𝐃𝐄𝐂𝐎𝐑𝐔𝐌 & NOBILITY : 交 ✦ ⏱

✦ fem!reader — rainy day headcanons ::

Fingertips carefully glazed over the soft skin of your hips. Slender, pale, hands drifted so slowly over your bare cheeks, so ripe and plush that he could bite into them like fresh peaches on a cold, winters night.

Eager whispers exchanged, worlds intertwined like the stars watched over the both of you and the skies offered its blessing from underneath the sofa you both laid on.

' Beautiful, isn't it? The rain can wash away many things.. '

The occasional pinch of your chin with his gentle fingers that made you look at him with eyes so tender and loving. That same hand that used his knuckles to stroke your cheek and watch your pupils dilate with the motion of his palms cupping the bare skin of your sides.

The rain watches over you, and the noises of pattering and small taps that embossed and stamped itself into a puddle against the windows. Pavia stirred himself in and out. In and out of reality.

Where his mind trails off to numbness, devoid of all emotion whereas you quietly fumble with his shirt.

He doesn't mind. He never does.

Pavia loves listening to the quiet static of the radio with the hankering enchantment of the beauty of silence allowing the rain to be fully heard.

Its gateway allowed it to have the both of you drift in a quiet, warm sleep. Embraced with one another in arms so tender and fond.

He watches you take the step to slowly close your eyelids first. Guarded, protected. Even if there's no threat nearby. His lips were folded between his teeth, feeling his lower hand that hung off the side of the sofa, had been met with a wet lick that it's scent gave off the familiar face, that of his little canine family.

Andrea drooled over his fingers a little, nuzzling it softly to which you quietly ironed your eyes from your light-sleep and witnessed how they all huddled around the front of the sofa with eager whimpers.

Both of you, tenderly, welcomed all of them in. Maleficent taking it upon themselves to be seated in front of pack, with your arm stretched to pet each one of them. Your motherly touch send them to drift, lowering their heads to huddle around, generating the warmth together that would lull them into a slumber.

All pups knew how to take care of themselves, but you couldn't help but admire how close everyone was with each other.

Pavia, occasionally whispered close into your ear, how the rain doesn't fall one by one, they fall together in a pack out of the clouds. Tiny droplets that reach its journey by landing on the ground. They fall so fast, it's hard to catch one by the naked eye by itself.

' Family is everywhere, isn't it? I found mine. Here, with you, amore. '

Those enamored with rain often find solace in its rhythmic patter, as each drop orchestrates a symphony that echoes a myriad of emotions. Pavia, above all, adored all of it. But his fascination doesn't stop there, it washes away everything.. Like it almost cleanses him in some way.

The rain enchanting the city with its crimes and darkness encasing the slums of most areas had him captivated on how nature itself can forgive humanity for its destruction against society and how it does those a favour to wash away the bloodstains, tire tracks and marks and allow those to witness a beautiful view.

Cleansing him, but not ever forgetting.

#reverse 1999 #pavia #pavia reverse 1999 #pavia x reader #reverse #paviarev1999 #r99 pavia #reverse 1999 pavia #pavia fluff

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iluvshinytwink · 1 year

Note

Trent with school smart, but emotionally/socially dumb, and a very sensitive gf and he gets frustrated with her and yells at her and she bursts out crying making him feel bad and both end up crying but with a fluff ending I love ur angsty works😩

Sensitivity - Trent Alexander-Arnold

Summary: After a harsh game where Trent wants nothing more but to hold you close and pure silence, you come to him ranting about your lesson and Trent gets frustrated and lashes out on you.

Now Playing . . . How To Disappear by Lana Del Rey

A/N: tell me why i forgot to put other players in my first introduction, anyways thank u for requesting and liking my works!!! this'll be the first time i'll post about trent so i hope u enjoy this! <33

put on some mother lana so i hope she'll bring out the angsty words from my dictionary and into this goofy oneshot 😈🤞🤞

Trent sighs to himself, his body ached of pain and his eyes drooped low. He was worn out and even though the game was done he felt his heart beating faster due to the adrenaline. He took off his shoes and all he could think about was you. Your warm body which he wanted to embrace, your soft hair which he wanted to run his fingers through, your eyes which he wanted to be lost in, your lips that curled into a smile and which he wanted to kiss senselessly, to forget everything.

He felt his chest close in, his mind thought of nothing but you. He was happy the game was over, he could drive home and run into your arms, melting into your body as you played with his dreads with a book in your hand.

Trent steps into his car, quickly turning it on, he wanted to be home as quick as possible. As he drives his mind started remembering the subtle moments he wanted to experience again tonight.

Trent had his head on your chest, eyes closed. His arms wrapped around your waist, almost protectively. With your right arm you played with his dreads, humming a tune from a song. And with your left hand was a book, reading silently. He remembers the way your chest rhythmically pumped up and down, he was lulled by your soft humming and eventually fell asleep.

He smiles at the sweet memory and continues driving.

Trent opens your front door, being met with silence. He was a bit upset that you weren't immediately there to greet him hello and maybe engulf him in a hug. He softly sighs, letting the things in his hand fall freely on the ground.

"Babe?" your boyfriend called out as he took off his shoes. No response.

His body ached by the second and gave up on the idea to search for you. He let his body freely fall into the couch, a deep sigh escaping his lips. He closed his eyes as he hoped he'd drift to sleep and when he wakes up you'd be beside him, also sleeping.

Suddenly, fast footsteps descended a flight of stairs.

"Trent!" you exclaimed. Trent immediately felt his eyes open and even though his body felt numb he sat up, there you were-- the person he craved for. "Hi--" he said but he was cut off. "Ugh! Today was such a pain in the ass!" you groaned, folding your arms together. He felt his eyes droop lower and his patience ran thin.

He loved you with all his heart, his soul, his body but he hated the fact that even though you were academically smart you were dumb with emotions and reading them in general. You would cut him off when he was upset or happy but he was fine with it. No person was perfect and he knew that but it was annoying.

Trent leaned back on the couch, staring at the ceiling as you rambled. Whatever you said was incoherent to him at this point. Trent closed his eyes, mind blank and ears seemingly closed.

"Trent?" you called out to your boyfriend. His eyes slowly opened, meeting with yours. "Are you done?" his tone sounded annoyed and bothered. "Are you okay?" you asked, a little worried at this point. "I just want silence for a while." he plainly explained, voice laced with bother. "A-- Are you sure? You seem--" you started fiddling with your fingers, you didn't know what was going on or what would happen after this. "Can you just leave me alone!?" Trent yelled. A shudder was sent through your spine, your ears rang from the volume of his voice. You were scared, emotional, and everything in between. "I--" your throat gave out all it could, all that was left. Your voice wobbled. A lump formed in the middle of your throat, your eyes stung of tears and you blinked rapidly to scare it away.

"What? What else do you want to say?" Trent stood up. You instinctively stumbled back, eyes glued on the ground. "What else!?" his voice was louder than it was before. You felt yourself flinch at his voice. The voice you once craved to hear, the voice that made you feel calm, loved-- scared you.

Trent feels a heavy sigh escape his lips which felt like more of a groan out of annoyance. Trent turned his back on you, collecting his patience back. Trent mumbled things under his breath. With his mumbling you heard: "Why are you like this?" You felt angry, sad, and somewhat betrayed. Your eyes stayed on the ground, you held your breath for several minutes, afraid that if you open your mouth a strained whimper would escape your lips.

Trent turns to look back at you, finally seeing your head hung low, hand fiddling with each other. Trent stayed silent, his mouth open, his throat preparing for something to say.

Then, he sees a tear fall into the ground. He felt his chest close up, his world stopped and his heart broke. Were those tears? Your tears? Did he make you feel the need to cry?

"Y/n?" his voice was low, shaky. His feet slowly approaching you but you back away. Were you scared of him? "Babe..?" his voice came out a desperate call, a whisper. Your teeth gritted against each other and a hic came from your mouth. With that, he felt another piece of his heart break away.

Even so, he kept nearing you and every time he neared, you backed away.

Eventually you hit a wall. Your back pressed on the wall as another hic escaped your lips. "I'm sorry.." Trent whispered, eyes blurred from the tears. He didn't dare blink. He wanted to look away from you, to stop this feeling-- this ache in his body to stop but he didn't want to. He couldn't break his gaze from you.

Trent feels his arm reaching out for you. Trent's hand eventually touches your shoulder and he feels you flinch for a moment, your entire body stiff from the sudden move. Slowly, you felt your body relax. Trent's lips quiver in fear, sadness before bringing your body to his.

He hugged you tightly, afraid that if he let go you'd vanish. Your arms stayed on your side, not wanting to hug him. His chin rested on your shoulder as he cried. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to.. I--" he croaked. You felt your body tense up once more. You blinked and more tears fell. You felt your hands dig into your palm. You didn't know what to do-- how to feel. A shaky sigh escapes your lips and slowly, instinctively your arms wrapped around him. "Please forgive me." he mumbled underneath his sobs.

You hugged Trent comfortingly, your touch told him that it wasn't his fault, your embrace felt warm, your arms told him that you've forgiven him, your fingers told him that whatever he'd do you'd never break away from him, no matter how hard he pushes.

"I'm sorry, baby. I can't-- I didn't--" he stammered.

"It's okay, Trent." you finally spoke, your voice came out soft and comforting. "You didn't mean to." you reassured.

Trent felt guilty, a part of him knows it was his fault but a part of him started believing it wasn't his fault.

He felt guilty, like he did an unforgivable crime and lied about it.

He broke your heart and he broke his own.

"I'm sorry." he repeated, desperate and shaky. "I know you're sorry, you didn't mean it, you didn't mean any of it." you cried. The way your voice broke, the was it cracked-- it hurt him. Your words were soft and calm but your voice was broken into pieces.

"I love you and you love me. That won't change anything, whatever you say won't affect that. You hear me?" your voice calm and steady. "There's no point in saying you're sorry because I know you are." you pulled away from him, looking at him directly. His eyes glimmered with tears, cheeks stained with it. He looked at you, your eyes were red and puffy and he felt like he couldn't forgive himself for doing this to you.

You inched closer to him, planting a kiss on his forehead, then to his cheeks. You cupped his cheeks with a wobbly smile on your face.

Even though he made you cry, you loved him regardless, even though he made you scared of him, you held him tightly, even though he screamed at you, you spoke to him tenderly and softly. Even though he'd never forgive himself, you forgave him in a heartbeat.

(SPECIAL TAG TO @habuonlylikesu she has sent 2 requests and shes such a slayer idk how to explain her bro.. ANYWAYS the reason why this is so long is cause of the description of the details 🙄🙄 i tell u guys mama lana del rey DOES something to ur writing. ANYWAYSYSYSYS THIS IS MY FIRST TIME WRITING FOR TRENT AND IM LOWKEY PROUD. funfact i did this the evening i got the request and i just deadass didnt know how to execute it and like 2 days later i finish it in one sitting. OKAY SMASH THAT LIKE BUTTON AND SUBSCRIBE FOR MORE BANGERS LIKE THESE!!! 😱😱💕💕)

#trent alexander arnold #trent alexander arnold x reader #trent alexander arnold x y/n #iluvshinytwink #imsoslaying #delulu hours exe #ijusttookadoodoo

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