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#ive been obsessed with this kiss since it aired
themotherofhorses · 1 year
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you can pretend it's not meant to be (but you can't stay away from me)
summary: to you, he is fictional. but to him, you are everything and more. he can't live without you. and, really, there is no use in trying to run away, he'll always find you.
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pairing: (somewhat) dark!aemond targaryen x fem!reader
warnings: explicit language. noncon to dubcon. abduction. massive obsessive tendencies on aemond's part. breeding kink. slight spitting kink. pregnancy.
note: hey this is me practicing writing smut because ive never ever done it before and i don't know jackshit like wtf is a dick hahaha im dreading posting this hahahasendhelpplshaha
masterlist | series masterlist
part two | part three | part four | part five
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How did you end up here?
That was all you could ask yourself, over and over again.
It had only been hours ago, maybe, that you were sitting at home, rewatching the first season of House of the Dragon for what seemed to be the thousandth time. Perhaps you dozed off on the couch too, but that was it. You have heard of shifting techniques before- ways to visit your favorite fictional worlds- but you never sought to try them out yourself.
College left you too busy with assignments and textbook readings, as well as the constant and unwavering pressure to maintain both your scholarships and high GPA.
Ever the dutiful and driven daughter, hungry for academic validation and success.
Oh, fuck, your scholarships!
Your GPA!
All those assignments and discussions and exams!
And what about your family? Your mother and father? And your best friend?
Aemond Targaryen seems not to understand your words, and why you tell, beg, and plead for him to let you go. “Please, I need to go home,” you cry loudly, while yanking at the thick knots that bound you to his bedframe, “please! My family, my friends. They will be worrying when they don’t hear from me, and all my hard work and accomplishments, it will be for nothing! Please, I beg you, let me go home.”
But he just chuckles and kisses your forehead and says, “Oh, my sweet girl, I’m your family now. Or what is of it.” His lips feel so soft and wonderful, and how desperately you wish to enjoy the feeling. But not like this. You cannot think properly nor muster any sort of response, too distracted and stressed and focused on calming your breathing.
“Although,” he then adds with a smirk, “it truly is not considered a family until you have a babe of your own…or two.”
At his words, you tremble and whimper and try your best to break free, though it is all in stupid and foolish vain. There is no going anywhere, the knots are too tight and Aemond can easily overpower you. All you can do is stare up at the man you once considered your favorite character in the series, ever since the eighth episode aired and he stole your heart and soul and burrowed himself deep within your most inner thoughts and fixation.
“Do not worry,” he says, and you can see a twinkle in the violet of his eye. He rests a hand on your collarbone, gently drawing little shapes across the skin. “Good things will come out of this night, my love, I promise you that.”
Look on the bright side, you tell yourself, in some dumb attempt to steel your nerves, better Aemond Targaryen to lose your virginity to.
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“You need to be quieter, my darling-” Aemond murmurs close to your ear “-we do not need curious ears listening in, do we?” He has you riding him, both hands clutching your hips as you do your best to bounce on his cock and match his thrusts. You’re sloppy and inexperienced, and a bit confused on what exactly to do, but it is so endearing that his lips curl into a grin.
Oh, you were made for me, he thinks, watching the way your glazed-over eyes try to hold his gaze. He will have you believe that by the end of the night, dawning if necessary.
There is much rush now that he found you, now that he has the chance to claim you.
You still moan, loud and high-pitched, and he slaps a hand flat over your mouth to shut you up. It makes your pretty and teary eyes widen more as you grab at his wrist, holding onto it while he tuts. “I’ll move my hand when you learn to listen to your husband and stay quiet. No one is allowed to hear my wife in her pleasure. No one but I.” At that, you bat your eyelashes at him, breasts heaving as he leans you down, so close your lips nearly touch, and Aemond can feel your heavy pants against his mouth.
“They will take you away from me, and ship you far across the world where I can’t find you,” he hisses, pinching your swollen nipple between his fingers, “I can’t have that. No, no, do you hear me? I will not survive being torn from you.”
The mere thought of losing you, either at the hands of his mother and grandsire or you returning to your homeland, fills him with sheer dread.
He does not know how to tell you that you are the girl of his dreams, everything he has desired and more. He has seen you in his nighttime slumbers and in the gleam of the summer sunlight and up among the black midnight stars.
But the words fall apart on his tongue, and all he can do is lay beneath you and marvel at your beauty: cheekbones and pretty puffy lips and the curve of your nose, the way your eyebrows furrow in pure pleasure, and how you look utterly delicious and ruined.
“You were made for me,” he breathes in awe, palming at both your breasts. You have to believe him, this sweet and pretty girl of his, how could you not? The gods above created you for him, he will make you see it. “You are taking me so fucking well,” and Aemond flattens a palm against your belly, where he can feel the slight bulge of his cock. “Look at you, you’re my dream come true.” He thrusts his hips up, fucking into you harder and deeper. It makes you squeal and go cross-eyed.
“Is this too much? I know you can handle it, my darling. My love, my sweet girl,” he purrs.
Aemond swipes at the drool pooling at your lips before stuffing two fingers in. “Fuck,” he whines, breathing hard, slipping his other hand in between your thighs, and with his thumb, rubbing at your clit. Your face twists in a gasp as you tremble, your entire body tightening until you cream over his cock, your loud moan muffled by the fingers in your mouth.
“Good girl,” he hums, slowing his thrusts, “Such a good fucking girl. Look at that, did that feel good, my love?” he asks you.
You nod, rocking your hips back and forth. Your thighs shaking and your face scrunching in complete bliss as you start again, taking his cock deep in your stomach with tiny bounces. “Please- please- please-” you babble against his palm. “I-I want- I need-”
“Want what, my sweet girl? Need what, my darling wife?”
You don’t answer, too overtaken by the pleasure. Aemond chuckles and leans upwards, to bury his face between your breasts. You are absolutely stunning, gorgeous, a living goddess; how he went this long without you is baffling. “You wish for my seed. Is that what you want?” he mutters against your nipple, “of course you do, this belly is too empty, isn’t it? My son should be sleeping inside.” His fingers pinch your clit, and you gasp again. “You’ll be the prettiest mother. You were made to carry my children. You were made for me,” and he pulls your face back to his, with a rough grip on your chin.
“Tell me,” he demands through a pant, “tell me how fucking badly you need my seed. Tell me…tell me right now.”
“I- I need it-“ you choke out, but then you shake your head. “No- No I can’t! I- I need to go- go home!”
Aemond laughs, so hard he flings his head back. The sight takes you by surprise before he shoves you off, causing you to land next to him on the bed. You stare up at him, wide eyed and puzzled and swollen and covered in countless bites and bruises. In one swing, he forces your face into the pillow as he mounts you from behind, fucking you hard. His fingers return to your clit, squeezing and tweaking and not caring one bit about your muffled yelps and whines
“You’ll learn, my sweet girl, but perhaps not tonight. I am your home now, do you understand? I’m your family, your husband, and the father to your children.”
He grabs a fistful of damp hair and yanks your face back, never once slowing his thrusts. Your mouth is open with many moans spilling out, eyes clouded with tears, and cheeks flushed. With his lips next to your ear, he whispers, “You are going nowhere.” Then propping himself on one arm, he trails small kisses up your back to your shoulder blade until his mouth slams down on yours in a heavy and wet kiss.
And when he pulls away, his fingertips squeeze your cheeks together as he demands for you to open your mouth. "You are mine," he grunts, "you belong to me," before spitting into it. "Good, now swallow."
And when you do, he smiles.
"There, see?" he coos, leaning to kiss your forehead as he feels you tighten around his cock. He was going to seed you again, deep inside your womb. Come the morning, he knows his son will be in there, and he can hardly wait.
"My wife, my darling girl, the only woman deserving of me and all of me. Only me." He watches you sob at that, pink lips pressing in a tight line as fat tears streak down both cheeks. "Oh, do not worry, my love. You're too lovely to be crying," and he uses his thumb to brush away the tears, "I'm here to give you the life you deserve," he vows, so lovingly, "you will want for nothing."
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With a loud huff, you plop yourself on the couch.
The saying “home sweet home” never felt more sincere until now. It took much time and planning and effort and sneaking around on your part, but you managed to find a way to escape from Aemond Targaryen, though not without consequences. Your belly was growing only larger with every new moon, and your babe was starting to shift around more. At most times, you could feel the fluttering sensation across the bottom of your tummy, and every now and then, the tiniest kick.
It was adorable, you admitted, and you tried your best to find enjoyment throughout the pregnancy, sometimes wondering at night about who your child would resemble.
Would their looks favor yours? Or would they favor their father, with his Valyrian features- that iconic silver hair and violet eyes. The latter worried you the most. How could you even begin to explain why your child looked as if they belonged in the Game of Thrones series, specifically in House Targaryen?
Speaking of such, you had not touched House of the Dragon since you arrived back home all those months ago, too unwilling to turn on the tv and see the man whose child you were mysteriously carrying in your womb. It just did not make any sense, it felt more like a weird dream than reality.
But you were dying of boredom. The dragonling (you had taken to nicknaming the baby that, it sounded both cute and appropriate) was stealing away most of your time and energy, and your mother refused to allow you to do anything that could cause harm or add more unnecessary stress.
So you bit your tongue and swallowed down your grumbles and settled comfortably on the couch before opening Fire and Blood.
“Fucking crazy to think that this is a book of your family’s history,” you mumbled to your baby bump, “fictional my ass.”
So you read, to yourself and to your babe. Read about Aegon’s Conquest and the Year of the Three Brides and King Jaehaerys and his Alysanne and their triumphs and tragedies and legacy, and you read until you reached The Dying of the Dragons, the Blacks and the Greens, where you just sighed.
“And when Alicent sent for her second son to fly to Storm’s End, with the purpose of securing Borros Baratheon’s loyalty to Aegon II by winning the hand of one of his daughters, the Four Storms, the truth was finally known. One-eyed Prince Aemond, twenty and one, had taken a wife of his own in secret, a young maiden not of Westeros (according to Mushroom). Yet Prince Aemond lost her a month into their marriage, although by that time he had become so besotted with his bride, to such an extent that he could not bear the thought of living without her or taking another woman as his new wife.
With Prince Aemond refusing his mother’s orders, Queen Alicent had little choice but to send her youngest, Prince Daeron, in his place to Storm’s End. And by the seventh month, Prince Daeron wedded Floris Baratheon, and Prince Aemond One-Eye had reunited with his wife, who was heavy with child by the time he found her.”
You suddenly glance up from the book pages, feeling your heart hammering so hard in your chest that it seems at the end of your throat. On the wall, to your right, hung the calendar which you had taken to use as a means of tracking your pregnancy.
In two weeks, you’ll be at your seventh-month mark.
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thezatannaprint · 1 year
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im sending you a signal
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jack champion x fem actress! reader
🍂: you are tired of jack treating you like a friend so you send him a signal (well many of them.) but he doesn’t seem to understand.
“you look really good today jack.” you smiled and fluttered your eyelashes, his eyes left his phone screen and he glanced at you with his adorable smile. “thanks buddy.” he playfully punched your arm and your smile faded… buddy? really. telling him he looked good was a little on the nose so you decided to go for an even bolder compliment. “your hair looks sexy like that.” you moved closer to him and he chuckled. “really? your dress is pretty.” his eyes scanned your body and you were jumping for joy inside. “thanks” you felt your cheeks heat up, no way in hell he was just looking at the design on your dress
you purposely wore this dress let’s just say it enhanced one of your best features. his phone rang and he groaned, must be a business call?.“shit uh i gotta go, ill see you on set.” he kissed your forehead before leaving you all alone on the couch. as soon as you heard the click of the door shutting you screamed inside of your pillow. “really y/n his hair looks sexy god im so stupid” you sigh. “or maybe he’s stupid for not seeing that im basically throwing myself at him, or maybe he doesn’t care.”
that whole situation happened four months ago and since then you’ve been trying even harder to get jack to notice your very obvious feelings, it’s not like you were cassie from euphoria level obsessed with him but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t change up some hairstyles or outfits to ones you knew he liked. you asked jenna if she knew that you liked jack and she laughed in your face. “duh! the whole cast knows” she tried to cheer you up and said that jack was just painfully oblivious and she even suggested just telling him that you liked him straight up. “if he doesn’t notice my signals by wrap then i’ll confess.”
so you tried a different approach you flirted with him everyday and he would just smile and respond back with a “thank you.” or “no y/n you’re too kind.” you began to think he wasn’t interested so you backed off until jenna whispered to you during lunch that he definitely has the hots for you and she knew for a fact he would stare at you. that made you feel a little better but if he liked you why didn’t he say anything. “jack how’s it look?” you twirled around in your new dress that you were going to wear for an interview soon. “you slay that dress.” he high fived you, you were sick of this buddy buddy / friend treatment.
it was the final day of filming and jack still didn’t do anything so you decided you’d just tell him, i mean if jenna was right then he likes you back and even if he didn’t you weren’t going to press him anymore. you walked to jack’s trailer and knocked. when he answered he was in his sweatpants and a shirt. “y/n happy wrap day.” his voice made you wanna melt. “thanks uh can we talk… it’s important.” his face twisted into a worried look so he nodded and let you in. you both sat on his little couch and shared a glance, his eyes looked so deeply into yours. “what’s up?” he chuckled. “jack champion. i like you and before you say anything if you don’t feel the same way i get it and it’s ok.” as soon as those words left your mouth his smile got wider. “are you serious?”
he was like an golden retriever. “ive sent you so many signals but you never really picked up on them.” you held his hand and he shook his head saying that he didn’t remember you sending him any flirty signals, you told him each and every time you sent him such a signal and he gasped. “ohh this whole time i thought you were just super sweet.” he laughed and apologized for being oblivious to your feelings. “i like you to and i think this should’ve been the signal you used.” he leaned in to kiss you and you kissed back fireworks blew up in your mind as the kiss deepened and became more passionate.
you two pulled away for air and you giggled. “i like that signal- i have an even better one to show you.” you whispered softly in his ear and his eyes widened. “y-yeah?” he suddenly felt nervous.”i should probably lock it then?” he asked and you nodded.
UNEDITED OR UN BETA READ CUS WE DIE LIKE MEN AND ITS ALSO 4 AM ON A SCHOOL NIGHT
I hope y’all enjoy this one since y’all really liked the other one lemme know if I should continue to write for jack or any of his characters you guys can request or leave suggestions or anything in my inbox 📥 - zatannacore ✨🪄
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vintagexherry · 7 months
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Even if it Takes Forever
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Miguel O'Hara x Reader
//Obsessive themes, slight angst, Cloning sciency stuff that I probably got wrong about.
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"Recording? Again? You might as well work as a cameraman instead of a geneticist. " You giggle as you see a camera being pointed at you. You placed a hand at your pregnant belly as you smile at his actions.
Miguel was about to retort back when you both hear Gabriella running towards you.
"Mama! Mama! Look what I got!"
You look towards Gabriella, who has a handful of flowers, cradled in her arms.
"Can we make those flowers crowns again?" She asks as she sits in front of you, down on the picnic blanket.
You happily agree, as Miguel is filming the whole thing.
You and Gabi talked to each other about several things while interwining flower stems.
Gabriella suddenly pulled you down to her height and whispered something, causing the both of you to giggle.
"Say Miguel....Ever thought about modelling?"
"Wha?-" his questioned got cut off when both you and Gabi gently tackled Miguel behind the camera.
The camera got tackled to the floor while laughs and giggles fill the air.
With a swish of his hand, the hologram screen disappeared into thin air.
Silence fill the empty office.
Miguel deeply sighed as he stared into nothing, committing your and Gabi's voice into his head.
"Lyla, what per cent is it on now?"
As the mention of the name, a hologram of a lady appeared.
"You know, it won't get faster the more you ask." Lyla answered back.
"Just. Tell. Me." He sneered at Lyla.
"fifty-six per cent"
"Fifty-Six?! It's already been a month! Run the system again." He exclaimed.
"Numbers are numbers, Miguel. No matter how much you ask me, it won't get any faster."
Miguel groaned. He knew she was right, but the more days passed by, the slower it felt. He tried convincing himself that waiting is part of the progress, but it doesn't feel like he made any.
"Just.....Bring me down there." He said with a sigh as he steps on a small platform separated from his office computers.
Without another word from Lyla, the platform begins to decend, lower and lower into a dark abyss. Perhaps call it a secret passage way.
Once the platform completely lands, lights turn on immediately.
In front of Miguel, there were two human sized capsules connected to multiple tubes and wires to computers.
Inside those two capsules were yours and Gabriella's bodies, floating in blue-ish liquid.
Your face is serene and peaceful, and so is Gabi's.
He still remembers the days when he first started this project.
With the help of 2099 technology, he can make clones upon clones of people with the help of AI and human DNA.
But it wasn't easy.
Within the first trials, he was able to make Gabriella using his DNA, but she only lived up to a week when her internal organs failed due to missing chromosomes. He found out he couldn't make Gabriella without your DNA.
He almost gave up then.
Almost.
The second time, he tried you, using some DNA of a random woman he found.
You only lived for a week when your brain had miscalculations since it couldn't match with the DNA and with the codes he input and before he knew it, your brain self- destructed.
Trials upon trials pile up to a stack.
A missing limb.
An extra finger.
A missing organ.
So on and so forth, failed expirements pile up.
He remembers how much he was persistent on the project, so much that Lyla had to call for Peter and Jess to spray him sleeping gas and connect his body to IVs and nutrition tubes.
But he still didn't give up.
He finally found the solution when he went to another universe, where you are well alive and so is Gabi.
He fought the urge to stay within the universe, but he had learnt his lesson already.
While he watched you and Gabi sleep, he took it an opportunity to take a couple of hairstrands.
After collecting, he undid his mask and kissed your forehead and left with a heavy heart.
But he finally did it.
He remembers how joyous he felt.
He remembers smiling, which felt like since eternity since the last time he did.
Even Lyla was surprised when he stopped giving her angry demands and shouts.
He looked at the computer and saw that your organs,brain, and overall body were stable.
He still had leftover hair samples from you, and with his DNA sample, he also could make Gabriella.
He remembers staring at the capsule for so long that he swore he could be a statue until Lyla had to make him move eventually.
So here he was.
Looking at the unconscious and floating bodies of you and Gabi.
His palm automatically places itself on the glass, and if he imagines hard enough, he could feel your warmth from it.
He looked at the moniter next to your capsule and saw it was still fifty-six per cent, after seventy per cent he could then input the videos he took into your brain which could be made up to your memories, but alas, progress was slow.
His attention then shifted to Gabriella's capsule.
He remembers the way you would always remind him of how much she looks like him.
He would always respond back that Gabi's smile and laugh matches yours.
Oh, how much he misses those sounds.
He looked at her percentage, and it was still the same. Her heartbeat is stable and has a healthy condition.
"Miguel, you have a call." Lyla suddenly appeared on his shoulder.
He sighed, remembering he still has spider duties.
He went back to the platform, and once it started lifting up again, he looked at both of your capsules once again until the lights automatically turned off, leaving him staring at nothing.
He knows it will take forever for you and Gabi to be completely alive again.
But he'll wait even if it takes forever.
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vamossainz55 · 2 years
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Yours. (1.8k) || Carlos Sainz Jr x Reader / Requested
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helloooo, so i decided to combine these two reqs together. i hope it makes sense. i don't really have the 'she fell first' but carlos is definitely head over heels obsessed w reader in this one. also closest thing to spicy time ive publicly posted but borderline smut so pls read it with that in mind. the tiktok sent by anon made me feel things 💀. anywayws i hope i was able to encapsulate both requests and if not pls feel free to resend it and i'll write it again <33
warnings: 18+ technically, mentions or or*al, nothing more extreme and just sexual tension in general lmao.
enjoy!
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Carlos is obsessed with you, every single little thing about you drives him crazy. 
Your beautiful eyes and long lashes that are always giving him doe-eyed looks, your lips and the way they twitch into a smile whenever you’re holding back a laugh, and don’t even get him started with the sweet little noises that leave them whenever he slowly trails kisses down your neck, shoulders, chest, to where you usually want him most. 
He could stare at you for ages for all he cared, because every single thought in his head revolved around you. He’s not even embarrassed to admit it, letting you know every day, every hour, every minute. As long as you were willing to listen to him he’d let you know, shower you with every single praise possible, because that is what you deserved. You always laughed it off, told him Sure Carlos, whatever you say. But little did you know that he meant every single word of it. Always. 
You slowly shift in his arms which finally makes him break out of his thoughts. His arms tighten around you to pull you closer as he gently brushes one of the strands of your hair behind your ear before giving your forehead a kiss. You’re still asleep and he can’t help but nuzzle his face into your hair, taking a moment to breathe you in. Your legs are tangled with his and the memories from the night before are still fresh in his mind, and he lets out a deep and satisfied breath. He lays there for a while, what feels like hours. With you everything slowed down, it was like he was stuck in his own little bubble, his own little dream.
His body betrays him once his stomach grumbles though, and it takes him all his will power to slowly pull away from you. He gently places a pillow in his place and tucks you back into the covers before he’s quickly slipping on some boxers and hurrying to the kitchen. He opens the fridge door slowly, shivering at the gush of cold air that envelops him as he grabs eggs, bacon, and a few other things to prepare for you. 
He catches himself in the reflection of the window and he can’t help but to fix his own hair, trying to undo your mess from the night before. Once the pan he had heated up was warm enough he starts preparing some of the bacon, happily sighing as the sound of it sizzling invades his senses. He takes this time to brew the coffee and open both the window and the balcony door to let the summer breeze come in, singing to himself one of the songs you had been playing on replay during every drive. The sound of birds and the gentle ocean waves flow perfectly into the apartment and he goes back to the stove, checking on the bacon before leaning back against the island. 
It had been a week since the summer break started, and he had been flooded with questions from the reporters about what he was gonna do, the plans of the summer, and what he was excited about the most. Of course he said to take some time off, to enjoy the sun, and to have fun, but what he was excited about the most was small moments like today. It was waking up in the morning with you still in his arms, being able to enjoy cooking you breakfast, and more importantly, getting to see you like this right now, dazed from the sleep and last night’s activities. 
“Morning.” You say, walking out in Carlos’ Real Madrid shirt. Your hair is tied up lazily and you stumble into his arms, stuffing your face into your chest. 
“Good morning princesa,” Carlos says, kissing the top of your head as he wraps his arms around you. He can’t help but gently run his hand down the curve of your back, humming. 
“Last night was good, no?” He asks, you pull away slowly from the hug and he can’t help but smirk when he notices all the marks littered on your neck. You fix your hair a bit and nod, smiling up at him again with those big eyes and he can’t help but lean back down to give you a kiss. 
“Very good,” You promise, hand already trailing down Carlos’ chest. Carlos tsks, grabbing your wrist. 
“Breakfast first mi amor.” He says before lifting your hand and you smile and shake your head before letting Carlos twirl you. You laugh as you spin in circles, and you continue to spin as long as you can before you feel a bit dizzy. 
“Enough, enough,” You say, smiling from ear to ear. Carlos gently lets go of your hands but holds your hips instead, soon hoisting you onto the kitchen counter. You rest your hands beside yourself before Carlos is going to take care of the food. 
It’s not until you’re both seated, quietly eating breakfast when Carlos speaks up. “Happy anniversary cariño,” He says with a smile. It’s not like you hadn’t said it to each other -you had the night before at midnight- but you smile and blush regardless. 
“Feliz aniversario,” You say with a smile (and a little help of google translate), and you can see the way Carlos lights up. 
It’s later that evening that you both go out to celebrate. You were much less amused than Carlos when you notice all the marks littering your neck. It takes a lot of concealer and powder to cover everything, and even then you still feel like it wasn’t enough. Once you’re done with your make up and head to the closet, you feel strong arms wrap around your waist from behind before lips are once again gently grazing your neck. 
“Babe,” You say fondly, craning your neck away. “I just covered everything, don’t you dare.” You say and smile when Carlos lets out a small complaint before letting go of your waist. “So what should I wear?” You ask, because frankly you had no idea. The driver had promised to surprise you on the anniversary date so he had completely hidden the plans from you. Of course you let it slide, until now, when you realized you really didn’t know what to wear. Your boyfriend was already wearing a sleek black suit so you knew you had to dress up. Had you even brought anything really fancy?
“I actually have your outfit sorted.” he smiles before sneaking to the back of the closet and opening one of the drawers. He takes out a black bag that makes your brows furrow, it’s only when he comes closer that you realize it’s a versace bag. 
“Carlos,” You say, shaking your head as you gently take the bag from him. You had tried refusing his gifts for ages, but one thing you both learned during the past years was that Carlos absolutely loved spoiling you. 
He watches you curiously peak into the bag before pulling out the box inside. You gently set the bag down before Carlos helps with the box. He holds it for you as you slowly open it to peak in and your eyes sparkle at the sight. 
“Carlos, this is beautiful,” You breathe out once your eyes land onto a beautiful red fabric. He slowly helps take it out and you gently unfold the dress to see it in its full beauty. The shade is stunning and your hands gently run over the small sequins that are in the front dress, over the chest area. The dress then curves down into a corset style before the fabric flows back down to the floor.
“I want to see you with this on mi amor,” Carlos says, gently lifting your hand up to his mouth to pepper kisses onto your knuckles. You smile and lean closer to give him a lingering peck before you’re turning to go change in the room. You stop when Carlos clicks his tongue though, turning back to face him. “You can change here,” He says, and his voice is low and hungry and you can’t help but feel your cheeks heat up from the way your knees go weak for a second. 
His eyes are following your every movement, watching you slowly slip off your shirt before you move for your shorts. The way his tongue slips over his bottom lip drives you crazy but you push yourself to slip the dress on. 
“It feels so good, the fabric is amazing,” You say, slowly pulling the straps over your shoulders as you pull the dress up. Carlos hums and nods, soon coming close to you. Both his hands hold your waist as a way to tell you to stand still and you comply with his request. Soon he is zipping your dress up, eyeing your back as he did so. 
“It looks beautiful on you,” He says with a smile, stepping away to get a full look at you. He smiles and gestures you to spin with his finger and you smile as you follow his instructions, doing a quick twirl. 
“Perfect,” He says, slowly coming close before giving you a sweet kiss on your lips. “I got you new shoes too,” He says, slowly pulling at your hand to go back to the bedroom. You can’t help but shake your head, amazed at how much your boyfriend liked spoiling you. 
Soon you were sitting down on the edge of the bed, watching your boyfriend slowly take a pair of valentino stilettos out of their box. He’s leaning in front of you, gently running his hand under your calve to get you to stretch out your leg. Once you comply he gently slips it on your foot, smiling when he sees it fit you perfectly. 
“Do you like them?” He asks, looking up at you with his large puppy dog eyes and you can’t help but lean down, cupping his cheek before giving him several kisses. 
“I love them Carlos. I love you. Thank you,” You say in between kisses. He only pulls away to slip the other heel on your foot and you gently run your fingers through his hair, murmuring another thanks. 
You think he’s about to get up but he holds you by the ankle instead, gently peppers kisses over the inside of your ankle. You might had forgotten how he had looked at you whilst you were getting dressed, but he definitely hadn’t.
“Carlos,” You murmur, letting out a shaky breath when he begins to trail his kisses up. Your other hand makes it into his hair as well feeling his tongue swipe at your skin as he only moves closer. He uses his hands to gently push your legs apart, ducking his head under your dress shamelessly. His kisses are wet and sloppy and his stubble is rubbing your skin just right. 
“We need to go soon,” You breathe out, and despite your words, your grip is tightening on his hair, not wanting to let go. 
“Let me give you one more present before we leave baby,” He says, and how can you say no to that?
fin.
interested in reading more? check out my masterlist
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bbyquokka · 1 year
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Fingers ⋆˙⟡♡
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➥ pairing: Han Jisung x F!reader
➥ genre: smut. 18- DNI
➥ synopsis: Jisung's hands + painted nails equals you two having some fun 
➥ warnings: fingering, clit play, a little bit of nipple play
➥ words: 787
➥ a/n: ever since jisung got his nails painted, ive been obsessed so i wrote a little something. this and this just spurred me on even more. enjoy!
Feedback and reblogs are highly advised and appreciated as they fuel me with motivation
➥ tag: @hanstan34
➥ m.list 
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"A-Ah, Jisung."
"What's wrong baby?"
"More, I need more." You whimpered, withering in your spot. A small 'mhm' rippled from Jisung's chest to the back of his throat. You let out soft pants, his fingers making work on your sensitive bundle of nerves.
You were situated between Jisung's legs, your back against his chest as your head flopped to the side on his shoulder. His fingers rubbing painful slow circles on your clit, alternating between rubbing you clockwise and anticlockwise.
This all started when Jisung came home with his nails painted. Jisung's hands are your favourite part of his body, especially when his fingers are decorated with rings. You love the way his veins would protrude when he was doing the simplest of tasks. His long, nimble fingers wrapped around his phone or your neck.
It's safe to say that you find his hands very attractive, no matter what he was doing. Just one look at his hands made lust to pool at your core. So when he came home with painted nails, you couldn't help but throw yourself at him.
You wanted his fingers to be deep inside you. You wanted to watch his fingers appear and disappear as he made work on stroking your velvet walls but Jisung had other ideas
He knows you adore his hands, he can tell by the way you become hyper fixated on them when he is doing a simple task. He uses your weakness against you, purposefully sending you mirror selfies after the gym so you could see the veins protruding. Capture your face in his soft hands, making you whimper at his touch – he loves to tease you, it's his favourite thing to do.
"Jisung, I can't." You let out soft sobs. Jisung cooed at you. Tears pricked along your lower lash line as Jisung continued this painful torture on your clit. You need more, so much more that it burns.
Jisung's fingers rubbed up and down your slit, your slick coating his fingers. He used two fingers to widen your entrance, teasingly slipping the tip of his fingers inside before taking them out
You let a short puff of frustrated air out of your nose. Jisung's free hand came up from behind you, cupping your breasts. He squeezed and kneed the flesh before rolling your harden nipple between his fingers
He licked his lips as he looked at you. Your thighs shaking, threatening to close around Jisung's hand, your body coated in a thin layer of sweat as your cheeks were tainted a rosy pink.
You looked to the side, your eyes locking with one another's. You felt Jisung's cock twitch against your back as he looked in your glossy eyes, pleading with him to give you more. His tongue darted out, wetting his lips as he looked at your own.
He leaned in, locking your lips together in a sloppy, uncoordinated kiss. Teeth bashing against one another, tongues tangling together. Saliva spilling from the corner of your lips as moans ripped from the back of your throat.
You reached up, tangling your fingers in Jisung's hair. You tugged at the roots earning a delicious groan from him. His nimble fingers went back on working your sensitive bundle of nerves.
Soft whines left your lips as you pulled away from him. Tears falling from the corners of your eyes. Jisung smirked at you, loving your reactions – loving how you're slowly melting from his touch.
Deciding to end your torture, due to the fact that he was nearing his limit, he slipping two of his fingers inside you with ease. Your cunt welcomed him by clenching around his fingers, your slick coating them in an instant
Your walls felt soft and wet, ready and waiting to be penetrated. You sighed in contentment at the feeling of finally feeling full of something. Jisung's lips attached to your neck, sucking and kissing your delicate skin as his fingers thrusted at a steady pace
You let out soft hums, pleasure slowly making its way into your bloodstream. You felt like putty, melting at Jisung's touch. His fingers curled up against your walls, reaching the deepest parts of you.
You groaned, holding his wrist gently in your hand. Soft moans in the form of his name leaving your lips at speed. Jisung picked up the pace, your back arching off his chest at the sudden change as the sinful sounds of your wet pussy bounced off the walls.
Your eyes darted down at the space where you and Jisung were connected. You hummed, watching his fingers disappear and reappear with each thrust before closing your eyes, feeling the pleasure course through your veins.
"I always knew your fingers would look so good inside me."
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messycunt · 1 year
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hello there!! ive actually been thinking of an obsessive, yandere Arashi narukami x f!reader where arashi basically drugged s/o and forced s/o to be with her, its a pretty typical scenario but ive rarely ever seen it with arashi, and i also wanna see Arashi taking advantage of s/o's naivety, slowly manipulating her ever since Arashi's taken interest towards s/o. i picture s/o suddenly waking up in some kind of odd room where she's tied up and s/o is only wearing undergarments by that point. after freaking out, Arashi slowly and steadily approaches s/o and threatens her to stay put if she doesnt want things to go corrupt. s/o was crying because she thought of Arashi as an older sister figure whom s/o have dearly trusted, from there on, Arashi starts to kiss s/o and marking her up, telling s/o that things are going to be fine as long as she listens to her(Arashi.) That's it for my request, i hope im not asking for too much lol, this can be considered as noncon, so i hope that this much is fine, thanks!! goodluck on your blog!!
You’re not asking for too much! sorry this took so long and ty for the well wishes!!! i might write out a full fic w this concept if you feel these r too short TwT
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cw: noncon(touching), yandere, drugging, dollification(kinda), maybe ooc srry, not proof read
Naru is your closest girl bestie!
The two of you go to different schools and you really only ever see much of her on weekends but it’s not like you have anyone else to get closer to…
Girls nights that turn into sleep overs and shopping trips that could easily pass as dates are normal for you two but it seems to go right over your head.
Her lingering gazes and too tight back hugs where her hands linger on your chest just a little too long must mean nothing to you. 
You’d never look at her that way; she's like a sister to you! 
Maybe your air headedness is for the better. This way she can get away with much more without you even noticing. 
It’s a shame it had to come to this though
Not as if this was the first time she had slipped you something, far from it, this was just the first time it was something so strong and long lasting. 
Before it was just sleeping pills here and there to keep you knocked out long enough to give her a chance to feel you up a little. But this time it was more permanent. 
It had just become harder and harder to enjoy any of the time she spent with you knowing it would inevitably come to an end. Can you blame her????
Sure your jaw was too numb for you to speak and you only kept the muscles you could feel still under the blanket of her vague promise of making you regret it if you didn’t but you were hers now! For ever and ever.
Hers to play with hers to dress up and hers to kiss and cherish.
You just look so cute with glazed over eyes, covered in lipstick stains and almost lifelessly limp <3
12.4.22 - more
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scribblesincrayon · 8 months
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TWQ 10th Anniversary
It's hard to believe it's already been 10 years since that fateful week in 201 3 when this show first aired on BBC/Starz and created an instant fandom around people who have been dead for more than 500 years. Granted at least part of our obsession with the show was the vast fodder for historical shenanigans and medieval snark it provided, but it also spawned hundreds of GIF sets, thousands of words of fanfiction, some ship wars, genuine and lasting friendships, and at least one podcast. (Ahem, that would be Plantagenet Shade, co-hosted by @grand-duchessa and yours truly, @scribblesincrayon). You can't really ask any show to do more than that.
THE WHITE QUEEN 10-Year Anniversary Week ->Favorite Episode: “Love and Death”
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The title and its initial focus on Edward IV and Elizabeth Woodville notwithstanding, the emotional core of this show was definitely the relationship between Anne Neville and Richard III, which was showcased so prominently in Episode 6, aptly titled "Love and Death."
The end of the episode, where Richard whisks Anne away in the dead of night and offers himself up in marriage was so beautifully realized in terms of both the cinematography and the acting, and that kiss scene as the snow swirled around them in the pale blue moonlight was just gorgeous. Those images have stayed with me for a decade now!
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elialys · 2 months
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hey lady!
i am new here, in a religion of Anna Torv. i’ve watched fringe a month ago for the first time and im shocked that ive never heard of the show for all 24 years of my life. i adore it w all my heart, but have one problem, sometimes i can be too obsessed w people, i mean actors and their characters so it becomes really hard for me to separate characters from actors. what i mean is that i get SO many goosebumps of every anna and josh ss interactions, my breath is taken by each touch and kiss. and of course i’ve read and watched everything i could to understand how their relationships went during shooting and go rn. rn there is like nothing, k. but what about years ago? were they comfortable around each other, did they get along? there are lots of rumors, and i get delusional due to these talks. i see how they marked each other and were quite happy and fine w each other, also josh said some things, that prove they were fine. i mean their chemistry was real (maybe not in a romantic way, but just as they felt comfortable and everything was fine). soo, sorry for this silly paragraph, but i am interested what is ur opinion about anna/josh and the rumors.
ps if it doesn’t feel right to answer me, its okay, i understand and really sorry to make you feel this way!
Hi there !! It’s always so lovely to know new people are discovering Fringe, and falling in love with Anna Torv, even after all these years!
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Look, I’m going to be honest with you, I have been part of the Fringe fandom in one form or another since October 2010, back when season 3 had just started airing, and from the moment I stepped into the madness up to now, people have always been speculating about Anna and Josh. What I have also learned is that it’s a thorny topic. People have gotten very passionate about it through the years (especially when the show was still airing, obviously, since both actors were still working together).
As I now stand, I have also learned that people love to bite my head off when I speculate about things, so I’m not going to say anything on the topic. I have plenty to say, since I’ve been here forever and literally witnessed the ups and downs of that particular…partnership, but I’m not comfortable discussing it publicly on my blog anymore.
If you keep searching, you’ll probably conclude a few things on your own. If you’re really keen to find some information, you can always delve into my ‘anonymous’ tag, which contains all the answers to every anonymous message I’ve received through the years, because I’ve definitely answered anon questions about Anna & Josh before. There are over 1300 messages in that tag though, so I don't necessarily recommend it 😅
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malewifemanhunter · 2 years
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i agree with u 100% that macden has been intended since like... at the very least season 5/6!! like the subtext is super clear to me. and yeah mac is gay so its not traditional baiting. but the current problem lies moreso with the fact that because the majority audience doesn't read those subtextual clues (cuz they don't have to/arent used to doing that to find rep in media so it inherently seems excessive to them) the ppl who do see it are told they're just crazy or obsessive and i think ppl are just tired of that and want to feel supported by showrunners. like the unfortunate fact is the wider audience wont see macden as a legit possibility until there's something more substantial than coding/subtext. so i do still think the macdennis teasing for promo/hype for s14 was still kind of shitty considering it within the pre-existing context of queerbaiting esp in the 2010s. cuz the thing is they never rlly teased macdennis in the marketing/hype before (as far as I know) which was the new thing that was off-putting in retrospect.. if that makes sense?? like i think the s14 writing still supports a gay story when u dig thru it. like I read the charden kiss as being a commentary on how ppl just view gay intimacy as a joke with dee representing said ppl who view it that way, rather than the writers themselves making the actual joke just 'haha two guys kissed!' but the general audience still reads it as the joke just being two guys kissing. which to some queer audiences can still feel more hostile than supportive, esp when these eps first aired. like I do still think (esp after s15) onscreen macden is in the cards and that was heavily hammered in with the subtext of s14. but I do also think some of the shit like 's14 is getting weird' 'ive been shipping this duo for years' resembles a lot of previous queerbaiting type stunts, again considering a majority straight audience wont take dennis as queer/macdennis as a legit possibility unless its handed to them on a silver platter or spelled out in horrible stereotypes yknow what I mean LOL? so even tho I still think macden is the plan and was being pitched in s14 to be set up in s15, I understand why some of those things from s14 left a sour taste in ppl's mouths is all !!
i fully agree with you on this (that they were pretty much baiting the fans with a lot of inuendos for the the marketing of s14), and i'm sorry i didn't make that clear. my whole thing was that it's not queerbaiting, since mac is gay. but it was baiting (the regular kind that you see in any other show), creating some kind of hype in this part of the community, just to not go anywhere with it, not really, nothing more than the "gay, gay ass" speech and the "shove it down their throats" speech.
and yes, you're 100% right about people outside the queer community not being able to see/ take seriously queer dennis or macdennis as an actual couple (every guy i talk to that has seen the show is surprised that i ship them lol). and unless rcg start laying it on thick, if/when they do decide to make macdennis canon, these other fans will complain that it was out of nowhere, or the lgbt agenda or some other shit.
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enceladussx · 3 months
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las americas
thats where we met. on the island of tenerife celebrating both new years and my birthday. its past midnight now and i am finally 18. but equally still just a girl. me and my friend have got our eyes on you and your louis vuitton model friend. youre the only good looking people on this island it feels like; you gave off this energy of wealth and cleanliness we had to get your attention. we walk over to you and your friend and to my shock you wanted to talk to us first. thank god. we start talking and as time progressed i felt more and more attracted to you. all of a sudden we are walking to the rocks on the beach and youre undressing me and you soon start fucking me. "lie on the rocks i wanna fuck you in missionary to see your pretty smile", you say to me. damn okay, im thinking to myself. your dick is greatly ramming me into the rock underneath me and your kissing me so gently and slowly whilst the rest of your body is going insane on me. i was so in the moment. waves were splashing on us and i just remember lots of laughter whilst youre still inside of me. who are you? it lasted what felt like a lifetime but i loved every second of it. we stopped eventually as i was in so much pleasurable pain and we kept on talking. so much laughter and joy surrounded us, you picking me up and throwing me in the air, so many smiles. i gave you a ring that i made and you wore it for the whole night. i took you back to our accomodation and before we slept your hands roamed my body, so slowly, so intimately and it felt better than anything ive ever had before. i remember looking at your eyes in the dim lit lighting and us softly smiling at each other. you're soft precious smile feels so comforting to me i cant let go of it i cant let go of anything. i couldnt help myself so we went to the toilet and stepped inside the shower where you proceeded to fuck me so hard. the way you handled my body felt so intimate and equally so so safe. i want so much of you this is so insane. you eventually finished, all over me even, and afterwards i just remember you embracing me so hard as we knew i had to leave so soon. you stayed with me until the very moment my taxi showed up, we hugged once more and kissed and that was goodbye.
i hate myself for this because maybe i am just so incredibly fucking delusional but that was easily the best fucking night of my life. never been happier. weve been in touch since and we are both so insanely obsessed with each other, we text each other all day and its looking very likely that i am going to sweden to see him next week or he will come here, who knows. but i just so desperately need to see him again and from his words, he badly wants to see me soon. this could be the beginning of something big (im delusional.)
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longinglook · 3 years
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best of bl 2020 challenge, day 28: favorite kiss [1/1]
↳ fightertutor (why r u)
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miyagihawk · 3 years
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opposites attract | eli “hawk” moskowitz x reader
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summary: everyone is confused about yours and hawk’s relationship; you two couldn’t be more different. you reminisce about the night you met him.
warnings: cussing, fluff, hawk being a big softie for you, there’s not really a plot just cute moments :)
a/n: sorry y’all ik im a harry account but ive been obsessed with cobra kai (particularly hawk) anyways enjoy
word count: 711
Heads were turned towards you as you walked down the hall, with Hawk’s arm hung around your shoulders.
Usually so many eyes following you would’ve made you really nervous, but you were reassured by Hawk constantly looking down at you and pulling you closer. You actually felt kind of confident; being around Hawk always made you feel that way.
It wasn’t surprising that everyone was staring at you two. You and Hawk were an unlikely pair. You were a soft-spoken artist, who only had a few friends and kept to yourself. Hawk on the other hand, was loud and attention grabbing. If his mohawk didn’t already get eyes on him, then his reputation for starting fights does.
You two met at a party that your friends dragged you to. It was an hour in when you needed air; the smell of smoke was too much.
You sat by the pool in the backyard and dipped your feet in. There were still people around, but it wasn’t as stuffy as being inside. You felt yourself get lost in your thoughts as you stared into the glimmering water that reflected the night sky.
Suddenly, you heard yelling and two figures were right beside you, looking like they were wrestling. Then one of them fell in the pool, and you were soaked by the splash.
You quickly got up, looking down at your wet clothes. In front of you was the person who pushed the other guy and the first thing you noticed was his obnoxious hair.
“Oh shit. I’m so sorry,” the boy apologized but he was holding back his laughs.
You looked at the other boy, now swimming in the pool; he had dark hair and braces. His hands were covering his mouth as he giggled. “Sorry.”
“All good,” you shivered. It was a cold night out. You weren’t angry, there’s no use getting mad at someone who is probably drunk. You turned away to head back inside; to you this looked like a sign to just leave the party.
“Hey, hey, wait,” the boy with the mohawk jogged up to you, lightly grabbing your arm. “You’re cold. Here,” he slipped off his jacket and held it out to you.
“I’m actually leaving now, but thanks,” you replied, and continued your walk to the house, dripping and shivering.
“You came with Avery and Cassie right? I’m pretty sure they left,” the boy called from behind you.
Just my luck, you thought.
You internally cursed at your friends for leaving you at this stupid party that they made you come to. You were starting to get pissed. Being wet, cold, and betrayed made you wish you just stayed home. Now you had no idea what to do.
“I can give you a ride? To make up for... you know. That,” the red-haired boy gestured to your wet clothes.
“Aren’t you, like drunk?” You questioned. The way he was acting with his friend made you believe he was, but maybe he was just crazy.
“I’m not, I promise. I couldn’t anyways, I have a tournament tomorrow,” he explained, and you wondered what sport he played.
“I can’t go with you, I don’t even know your name,” you laughed. He wasn’t a complete stranger though. He knew your friends and you’ve seen him around school sometimes. I mean how could you not when his hair could be spotted from a mile away.
“Hawk. I’m Hawk.”
Now as you walked with him to your next class, you smile at the memory of meeting him. It’s been almost a year since then, and you know him through and through. You know him enough to see that you two actually aren’t all that different.
“I’ll see you after class,” Hawk took his arm from your shoulders and put his hands on your waist to pull you to his chest. You hooked your arms around his neck and played with his hair at the nape of his neck.
You got butterflies as he leaned in to give you a kiss. You felt so good being his, with his arms embracing you.
“I love you,” you kissed his nose softly and he scrunched his face. He laughed, genuinely, and in that moment you saw right through his bad boy facade.
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fancywrites · 2 years
Text
coffee
john tyler x reader | 829 words | 5+1 fic | slight stalking tw another blurb for lovely @darkestamralime
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i. you should've noticed who sat the cup down on the counter before leaving. but it seemed to happen at the perfect time; the messy handwriting reading your secret admirer across the side opposite the label that reads your exact go-to order. the gesture should have you more freaked out than how you actually feel. intrigued, appreciative, the butterflies in your stomach from having an admirer. if you were more observant, maybe you'd even seen the figure standing out your work window, watching you from across the street. ii. you'd recognized him as a semi-regular for a while now. not really knowing what he wants but always getting something he has to ask you so many questions about. but today he's not looking to buy, not from your store. instead he's asking you out. "I thought maybe we could maybe catch coffee sometime?" he names off the shop you stop at every day, the one that's farther out from your work, out of all the closer cafés and big chains around that he could've chosen. his eyes dark and intense as espresso, so bold and obsessive despite his act of fidgeting and nervous. you can't say no. iii. the smell of freshly brewed coffee perks you up, has you watching him with half-lidded, loving eyes. it'd become a ritual, ever since he stayed the night. and even now, months after moving in, it's his way to get you fully awake. after the kisses and cuddles, the tickles and soft whispers of all he has planned for the two of you. all of it having you in a half-dozed state, somewhere between blissfully awake and comfortably dead to the world. only when he brings you your first cup of coffee, perfectly curated to your sweet tooth, are you sitting up and fully awake, attention solely on him. it's his favorite part of the day. iv. he'd just settled you both on the couch, laying your back against his chest, arms wrapped around to hold his mug against your stomach, barely sipping on it. the heat acted as a temporary heating pad, soothing your aches and pains on the outside, as your own cup of coffee warmed you on the inside. the caffeine was a bonus for your cramps, and the sweetened milk alternative keeps you from having an upset stomach. you wanted to ask him how he knew exactly how to make you feel better. but he was turning it to your favorite show, whispering sweet things into your hair, and you didn't have a care in the world for his observances when you're feeling so much better. v. the patio was your spot when you couldn't sleep. the sounds of the city helped you relax on nights like these. the rain tonight blends in to the busy noise miles away. you startle when the sliding door opens, and immediately relax when something warm is wrapped around your shoulders. you pull the edges of the blanket closer before a mug is in your view. you grasp it and look over as he joins you on the porch sofa, his own cup of black decaf placed on the accompanying table. and there it will sit until the next morning. you never ask why he doesn't drink this coffee on these nights, nor do you ask why it always puts you to sleep so much faster than anything else. i. he jerks awake, almost frantic when he doesn't feel you beside him. you were never awake before him. had you finally left him? a thunk from down the hall gets him up. what if somebody's taking you from him? or are you trying to get out? he slinks out of the bedroom, slow but determined steps towards the kitchen, when he hears you softly curse and there's another thunk. he peers around to find you over the stove, staring down at something that smells obviously burnt. the air escapes him that he didn't realize had been held since he first got out of bed. he's behind you in seconds, large body hovering over you with arms looping around your waist, pulling you in as close as humanly possible. you smile, hum in his embrace, and apologize. "I didn't mean to wake you. I just..." you push the eggs with the spatula, then peer up at him. "you always make me coffee. I thought I'd make you breakfast in bed for once." it's so sweet, wanting to wake up and do something for him.
he kisses your nose.
"i don't think we can save the eggs." thankfully it had been the only thing you attempted. other than the coffee pot, which you of course made easily, his favorite mug made up in front of it. "how about I take over, and we'll both eat in bed?" the grateful yet bashful nod makes him smile and you start your shuffle away. he stops you before you can fully pull apart, kissing you so softly yet so possessively.
"happy anniversary, love."
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after-witch · 3 years
Text
Ginger Tea [Yandere L Lawliet x Reader]
Title: Ginger Tea [Yandere L Lawliet x Reader]
Synopsis: You’re sick. Unfortunately, your captor has no intentions of leaving you alone to recover.
For request: something concerning death note L? 
Word Count: 1500ish
notes: yandere, kidnapped
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You’re sick. Not sick-sick, not enough to land you in the hospital--which briefly makes you wonder what L would do if you needed serious medical attention. Would he take you to a hospital himself, spin some life about being a concerned spouse? Sneak you into some clinic on the opposite end of the country, so no one might recognize you? No, you think--if it came to that, he’d probably have the resources to bring in a team of private doctors to poke and prod you and hook you up to IVs until you somewhat resembled your old self again.
Not that he’ll be bringing in any doctors for your current mundane, yet wholly miserable condition: a nasty cold, maybe a sinus infection. Whatever it is, it has you feeling like absolute shit. 
Your head feels so tight that you swear it’s pulsing. Your throat is scratchy and sore, yet thick with phlegm that has you coughing, chest burning and tight, until it makes its globby way onto a napkin. Even your ears hurt, which is the worst, and when you cried out earlier, L had practically bound into the room like a wild dog to check on you.
Part of you hoped he would avoid you, be afraid to catch whatever it is that has you stuck in bed, feeling heavy and tired. If he caught a terrible cold, it might derail him from the mission he refuses to talk about except in the vaguest of terms.
But you have no such luck. Instead of leaving, he hovers. He clings. He checks your temperature with a thermometer, then with his hand (an excuse to touch you, clearly, but when you grumpily called him out for this he merely ignored you). 
He swaps out cold washcloths when they're warmed by throbbing forehead. He even brought in a humidifier, unceremoniously plunked down in a corner of the room; you can't complain, the warm, steaming air has been heaven for your aching lungs.
And a few minutes ago--or maybe more, you couldn't open your eyes to look at the clock if you wanted to--he asked if you were hungry. You weren't. He hmmed. And said he would fix you something, anyway.
It's funny. He has become so attentive, so caring, that you would feel flattered under different circumstances.
But it's hard to feel anything right now except sick, sick, sick. Weak. Helpless. In more ways than one. You hate being sick, as a rule; being sick at the mercy of your kidnapper is... not something you ever wanted to experience. Even if he is fawning over you like a mother fawning over her baby’s first sniffles.
You take a slow, deep breath, wanting to avoid the stings of pain that came with breathing normally. When you do, you realize that there's something else mingled with the hot air steaming out in intervals from the humidifier: ginger. Muted through your stuffy nose but noticeable enough to make you realize that he’s back from the kitchen.
You open your eyes and, sure enough, L is standing in front of you with a bed tray. He sets it on the nightstand and pulls the cloth, now warm, off your head.
"Do you want a new one?"
You nod. He hums, and quickly finds his way into the adjacent bathroom. You can hear the water running for a moment before he returns with a damp, achingly cool cloth that is refreshing and soothing as he places it on your warm, hurting head.
You want to go back to sleep, and half-close your eyes. Maybe if you just go back to napping, he'll leave you alone for a while.
The feel of the mattress dipping as L sits next to you on the bed destroys that thought. You open your eyes, weary, and see that he's opening up  the kickstands on the tray so that it can easily (and safely) rest over your lap. How thoughtful. How annoying. He’s gone to a lot of work to make you food. He kidnapped you.
You glance at the tray. Hot ginger tea, you can see granules of sugar melting away inside; rice porridge with eggs, scallions. Your favorite sick foods. You briefly wonder if he somehow knew this but, barring his somehow developing actual mind reading powers, you tuck it away as a coincidence.
“I don’t want anything,” you say, voice scratchy. 
“This will help with your symptoms,” he replies, lifting the cup of tea in his hands. “Drink the whole cup.”
You turn your head slightly and murmur, but all that comes out is a vague mm-nn before the cup is lifted to your lips. You can smell the ginger, warm and rich, before tasting its warmth on your tongue. With nothing else to do, you swallow. The liquid does feel soothing on your throat, in your chest, and you sigh, deflated, and gently take the cup from his hands.
You sip and sip, waiting for him to go. But he doesn't. He sits on the bed and stares at you.  You have the nerve to glance up at him, and you wish you were as good at reading his expressions as he was at reading your... everything. Your motivations. Your personality. Even your thoughts, you swear, sometimes. But when you look at him, all you see is his focus, his interest. He always looks the most intense when he’s focused on something. At the moment, that interest is you.
The mug is halfway empty when you set it down. He doesn’t protest, so you consider it a small victory. But when he plops a spoon into the rice porridge and pushes it closer to you on the tray, you shake your head.
"M'not hungry," you murmur.
"You are hungry," he corrects. “You haven’t eaten all day.” He’s right--but it’s hard to think about hunger pangs when your head hurts so much, when your lungs keep you in coughing fits.
If you were feeling healthy, you might be able to banter. Argue. Get him going until he huffs and stomps off. But right now, there's no arguing with him, and no arguing with the firm yet gentle way he shoves a pillow behind your back, propping you into a better sitting position. You feel too weak to muster any further protest when he lifts a spoonful of porridge to your lips, and you open your mouth just a bit--feeling a twist in your stomach as you do--and meekly accept the soft mixture.
The taste brings back memories. Of your mom, of course, but even of your old life. Before he took you. Making yourself steaming bowls of porridge in your apartment, thumbing through recipes on your phone to find something to target ear aches or headaches or nausea. Back when you were free to leave and do and say whatever you wanted. Back when life was simpler, when you didn’t have to play battles of wits and walk on eggshells and find yourself plotting a thousand ways to escape only to find out that he was ten steps ahead of you the entire time.
Back when you weren’t struggling with the realization that someone on this planet was so obsessed with keeping you that they kidnapped you, and now, they’re hovering over you like a lover, making sure you’re okay.
You don’t know you’re crying until L’s thumb wipes away a tear. You don’t have the energy to flinch, so you just stare at him, eyes half-lidded.
“Is it your ear again?”
“No,” you murmur. It’s not your ear that hurts.
L looks away. He brings the thumb, still salty with your tears, and swipes it on his lip, before returning your gaze again. He lifts up the spoon brings more porridge to your mouth, spoonful after spoonful. You must admit: it is nice to have something in your stomach, something soft and filling.
When it’s nearly empty, you turn your head and he lets you, opting to set the spoon in the bowl and put the tray back on your nightstand. He gently removes the extra pillow and you feel yourself sliding back down,  your eyes barely able to stay open. He takes the washcloth on your head without a prompt and returns with a new one, freshly cold and damp.
“Thanks,” you whisper, half-sighing from the cool comfort. It’s the first time you’ve thanked him since he started his hovering.  The first time you’ve thanked him about anything, actually. Your eyes are shut before you can see his reaction--a quiet moment of surprise, then pride, before he lifts up the comforter on the bed and pulls it up to your shoulders.
You turn slightly, tucking yourself on your side for comfort. You can feel your head buzzing, feeling fuzzy and thick from your headache and need for sleep. As your thoughts dim and your mind begins to slip back into slumber, you can feel something soft, something light and slightly wet, press on your cheek.
He kissed you.
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bubsdolan · 3 years
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hi bubba!! i have this really unusual tattoo (at least i think so, ive never see anyone do it), basically, i have stretchmarks that stretch on my hips and love handles so tatted on some of them are little flowers and the marks are basically the stems...if you get what i mean idk if i explained it really well lol....would u mind writing a blurb ab reader w this tattoo having a beach day w gray and he’s never seen her tattoos before and is basically really impressed and fascinated w it?? none of my past bfs liked it so :(
{ok firstly let me start by staying that is the most beautiful tattoo idea i think ive ever heard of. it’s so unique & i just know you look absolutely stunning.}
“baby, you coming in the ocean?”
grayson’s mesmerising hazel eyes bore into you as he watches you get your little station of sun lotion, a book, snacks and all your other beach essentials set up for your day of relaxation ahead. you could never say no to grayson, his face was one of those you became so desperate to hold, to kiss, to touch whenever he looked at you the way he was right now- love. he was so beautiful you often wondered what he saw in you. 
you giggle as a puppy like grayson bounces on his feet before you. with ethan and kristina long gone, chasing and splashing in each in the cooling water under the 80 degree heat of la, grayson was just as eagar to follow behind, but he wouldn't go anywhere without you right by his side.
“s’give me a minute, i’ll meet you there.” you lean over to place a quick peck on his lips, feeling him smile in the kiss as he thrived in the affection you gave him and in nature. he loved being outside that was a given, in the fresh air and beautiful scenery with the woman he planned on one day marrying. you, his twin and nature was all grayson needed to survive and right now, he couldn’t be happier.
accepting your kiss, grayson soon turns contently to meet his brother and his girlfriend in the water he was so desparte to indulge himself in. however he stopped short of hitting it, when he saw you hesitantly strip your body from the cover up you insisted on wearing in the heat and leaving you in nothing but your tiny bikini that made his mouth water. he couldn't take his eyes off you. 
raking in the breathtaking site of your body, the one he worshiped every night but never fully got to idolise as you always made a conscious habit of wearing his t-shirt in the bedroom. his breathing hitches and eyes falling when he noticed the art that adorned your hips. 
there, in plain sight were tiny little flowers, all shapes and sizes, grazing your stretch marks. scars grayson could only consider as beautiful as they acted as the strems of your creation.
it suited you perfectly, it made you stand out even more in his eyes and only confirmed the fact that you were damn near perfect for him. your body a priceless canvas as he fell in love with you even more at the sight of the new found discover. he fell harder, his soul already married to you. his future standing in front of him.
a niggle of doubt crossed his mind as to why he was only just seeing your masterpiece now. did you not feel comfortable around him? were you ashamed? grayson never failed to make you feel worthy, loved and worshipped, that he hated himself for not noticing sooner. how could miss something so vibrant and alluring. 
“ready to go bear?” you place your hands on grayson’s pecks after jogging slightly to catch up with him, your fingers dancing over the skin of his heart as he didn't even realise he was lost in a trance of you, until your angelic voice brought him out of it. 
his hands automatically find their home on your hips, his fingers trancing every elegantly precise line that helped shape your body. his fingers soothing, loving and warm. his eyes watched the gentle movements as he traced and memorised each petal, each leaf and each stretch mark. he had to pinch himself that you were real. 
“s’come you never showed me this before?” 
you heart drops, completely forgetting about the art you permanently drew on your body when you were just 18, after suffering with the insecurity of your scars most of your teenage years. ever since the day you ‘friends’ ridiculed you and doubted your life choice, you vowed to keep the tattoo in your own possession. not wanting to deal with the heartbreak of more judgement, especially from the only person who mattered the most. 
you feared your stretch marks would put him off you, make you less attractive in his eyes and made you not fit in with the beauty standards that surrounded grayson daily due to his status. you feared he would find your stretch marks disgusting, off putting, not wanting to be with you any longer as you were scared. permanently damaged. you weren't like other girls grayson had been associate with in the past, and that in turn forced you to keep this secret from him for many months.
you avoided his strong gaze and instead focused on the way his hands praised your body by continuously following where the tattoo leads. there was nothing but love in his eyes, he was truly fascinated by the way you turned such an already beautiful part of you, into something more breathtaking.
you gulp, your own thoughts running away with you as you thought back to the moment your friends and family laughed at you. claiming you made a mistake and ruined your body forever.
“i- erm,- i wasn’t sure what you would think about it. didn't want you to be turned off or laugh at me, m’sorry.”
grayson whips his head up to look at you so fast he almost gave himself whiplash. he was completely taken aback by your comments, as he never once gave you the impression he wasn’t utterly obsessed with you. the odds of existed are slim, so the odds of you and grayson existing at the same time is next to impossible. but that was the beauty of your relationship and grayson vowed to never take it for granted.
bringing one hand up from your waist, he lifts your chin delicately between his fingers and forces you to look at him. his touch electrifying, causing goosebumps to rise on your skin due to the outpouring of love being shown to you.
“fuck baby, i couldn't be more in love with you if i tired. this-” he refers, point down to your tattoo that has taken his breath away, “only makes you more beautiful.” 
“plus i think it’s super badass my girl is tatted.”
you search his eyes for any sign of dishonesty, but when you are met with nothing of the sort, you break down. tears free falling as you crash into grayson’s chest and let yourself be held by him in a way that made you feel safe. all your pent up fears, doubts and insecurity’s washing away in a matter of seconds by thr kindness and love grayson showed you thoughout your entire relationship. you felt silly for ever thinking different. a tattoo doesn't change you a person, it doesn't define you and it cetinaly doesn't make you incapable of love. 
grayson listened to your soft sobs, a mix or both happy and sad tears as he wished he could capture all your sadness in the grasp of his palm, clutching it tighly and ensuring it could never find it’s way back to you. he wished to vanish all the negative opinions of people in your past who made you feel any less than perfect. any less than beautiful and any less worthy of being loved the way he loved you.
as graysn held you, shushing your whimpers and kissing your forehead repeatedly, his hand presume their precision back on your hips. unable to draw himself away from the art that in his mind has him already planning a similar tattoo. maybe he’ll even get you to design and hand draw it. a sign of his love for you that was permanently and going to stay with him till the day he parts the earth. with you by his side.
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copias-thrall · 3 years
Note
Would it be alright to request some Papa IV x f!Reader? Like the reader is a very kind and sweet person and she has always supported Copia kind of thing? Maybe they’re having a whole day to themselves to celebrate?
Yes! Let’s get some more sweet Copia 😊 
They made fun of him and called him The Rat.
Terzo made him the butt of all his pranks.
Nihil undermined him at every turn.
Imperator pushed him to the point of breaking.
What you saw a man trying to do his best with his only flaw being an outsider within the Abbey walls, and in a place where actual hellbeasts were basically demon cats, were rats such an odd choice of pet?
You were fairly certain Copia knew the “Squeak if u like cheze” sign was taped to his back, but he just walked down the corridors anyway and let the Siblings and Ghouls chitter at him. You’d seen this man save one of the Abbey mice from a glue trap, and your heart just couldn’t let it continue.
So, you’d approached him and offered to remove the offending paper.
Copia, however, had just smiled at you.
“It is good of you to say, Sister. But let them have their fun, eh?”
He’d given you a slight bow and had gone on his merry way.
After that, however, Copia had warmed to you, often seeking you out so he could sit with you in the mess hall at mealtimes or chat theology with you on lazy Saturday afternoons.
When some of Terzo’s faction had started stuttering to make fun of Copia’s shyness with public speaking, you’d tried to shut them down. Not everyone was good in front of a crowd—especially when that crowd was hostile. All that did, however, was get them to double down and start calling you, "rat lover."
“Doesn’t it bother you, Cardinal?" you'd asked during one of your food dates. "It’s so…petty.”
But he’d just given you a fond look.
“It is of no consequence, dear Sister. Let them be thinking what they will.”
You’d learned all of his rats’ names and started smuggling them contraband from the kitchens.
Copia had you transferred from Imperator’s admin pool to work as his assistant.
“All this new paperwork!” He’s swept his arm across the stacks of his desk. “I thought I could be using a little help from a friend, yes?”
You’d inherently understood you weren’t there to file paperwork—you were there to tell him when to take a break, to replace his cold coffee, and to be a sounding board.
And you didn’t miss the way Copia’s mismatched eyes would look on you with adoration.
Well, you thought he was pretty neat, too.
When he’d been away on his first tour, you’d done your best to keep up with him. You had your other duties and your friends, but you tried to send him a supportive word before, during, and after each performance.
His missives back had grown fewer as the tour had dragged on, but each one had been effusive—if riddled with typos.
After the first tour, things had been different. Copia had come back from the road a glowing success…and in a tight suit that showed off his assets instead of his smothering cassock.
The tide turned, and while there were still his many detractors, gone were the days of “kick me” signs and farces.
You’d noticed a significant pay increase and an extra day off.
“But Cardinal! You need me here!” you’d protested.
He’d simply grabbed your hands and kissed each one.
“I do. And that is why you must be well-rested. Lots to get done. Now, shoo!”
And truth be told, the two of you had worked harder. Copia had spent less and less time in his study and more time attending meetings or at band practice or at weekend symposiums. You’d done your best on keeping his mountain of paperwork down to a molehill, but sometimes the two of you needed to work late into the night to meet seemingly arbitrary deadlines while you put your foot down and told the kitchen Ghoul that making some rigatoni past hours wasn’t going to kill them.
Of course, then you needed to put your foot down about Copia stopping long enough to eat the carbonara. Sometimes he’d growl at you, and you’d have to snap your fingers at him and tell him being hangry wasn’t a good excuse to be snippy with you; he was predictably contrite after he’d consumed a good portion, and you took his apologies as your due.
All of which is to say: you had Copia’s back from the get-go, and he knew you were always in his corner.
When he comes back from Mexico newly ascended, there are dozens of Siblings who want a piece of him. Some—like you—have been in his fan club since day 1; others jumped on the bandwagon during the final tour; while a few just see the razzle dazzle and want to shine too.
You’re in his study because you want to make sure everything is caught up before he comes back to work. You imagine that he’s going to spend a few days reaping the rewards of his promotion, and—while a part of you feels a little let down about not being a part of that particular party—you are genuinely invested in Copia succeeding.
So when the door bangs open, you’re startled to find Copia…er…Papa Emeritus the 4th striding into the room.
“Oh! Your Dark Excellency! I was just making sure—”
“How did I be knowing I would find you here, eh? Today is not a day to be working!”
“But you—”
He makes a shushing noise and reaches his hands out. They linger in the air between the both of you until he makes a “come here” motion with his fingers.
Tentatively, you curl your fingers into his gloved ones.
“We are taking the day off, yes?”
“W-we?”
Copia raises an eyebrow at you. “Sí. With who else should I be celebrating?”
You blush, pleased that he seems genuinely baffled.
The March air is living up to its reputation, so Copia leads you to one of the sunniest rooms in the Abbey. There, you find a picnic blanket set up with a picturesque spread of food, and Rain helping Mountain to position a bevy of potted plants around the area.
Copia clucks at them good-naturedly to leave. Rain gives you the thumbs up and Mountain just pats you on the head as they leave. (As Copia’s Girl Friday, you’ve had to backmanage his ghoulies as much as you’ve had to organize his report piles.)
When he gestures for you to sit, you arrange yourself comfortably in a big square of sun that’s streaming in from the windows. As you take in the meats, cheeses, sandwiches, and fruits that populate the corner of the blanket, Copia putters around with a bottle of Champagne and two glasses.
The whole thing is a little unexpected, but not unwelcome, and you watch him with fondness as he utters a Whoopsie when the cork goes flying at the ceiling and as he obsesses over making each glass level.
You two clink glasses with a Salute, both taking a modest sip.
“This is lovely, Cop—uh, Papa.” He’s all smiles. “But why me?”
His eyebrows draw together, and he tilts his head at you.
“Mia cara…who else would it be?”
You blush and shrug your shoulders, looking down at your platter. When he takes your hand in his warm, leathered one, you look up and get lost in his earnest, mismatched gaze.
“You are the most important person in my life.”
His thumb strokes over your knuckles.
“You are too sweet, mia cara. Helping an old man—”
“You’re not old—”
He tsks at you.
“Helping a person I am being. At my side even when you are in the knowing.” He taps his nose and winks. “Our little conspiracy of silence, yes?”
That Copia is not quite exactly the bumbling, nutty-professor he leads the rest of the Clergy to believe he is? Yeah, obviously.
He nods.
“And yet, you are by my side. Keeping my head on straight. Because you are wanting to.”
Because you saw the way he treated his rats, his Ghouls, and even Sister Imperator. He may have a dangerous ambition, but he’s not a dangerous man.
“I believe in you Papa.”
He gives you that fond look again.
“Well. I believe in you too, Sister.”
Copia lets your hand go and claps.
“Now! Let us enjoy this feast! Next up is a movie marathon where we enjoy our food comas, yes?”
You pop a grape into your mouth.
“Of course, Papa.” You give him a devilish smile. “How ‘bout you give the schedule so I can make sure we’re on track, hm?”
He blinks at you for a moment before giving you his little rat laugh.
“Ah, eh heh heh! There is my little taskmaster.”
“What would you do without me?”
He tosses a gape and just barely catches it in his mouth.
“I wouldn’t, cara. I wouldn’t.”
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