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aemondtargaryenonlyfans · 2 days

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FORBIDDEN TEMPTATION.

Aemond Targaryen x niece!Reader

WARNINGS: SEXUAL CONTENT—MDNI; canon typical incest/targcest (uncle married niece), menstrual sex, p in v, fingering, lactation kink

WORDS: 2.1 K

NOTES: Thank you to @lady-phasma and the rest of our little group for this period smut collaboration 😝 and extra thanks to @zaldritzosrose for the moodboard!! I love you guys sm 💕 It was so much fun working with this request. Cheers to the dragon friends🤍

✖️ 𝐚𝐝𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

A poking ache in your stomach is what pulls you out of your sleep, like a sharp, stinging tug that makes you curl into a bundle, clutching your belly. With your husband still sound asleep right next to you, his snores filling the room, you’re determined to not moan out in pain too loudly, though you’re close to failing.

“By the Seven,” you whisper, a clear strain to your voice, and when you bring your hand down between your legs, the stickiness you're welcomed with makes you sigh. There’s hardly any light of the moon falling into the room, which makes it difficult for you to make out the source of the wetness that coats your fingers, yet the smell lets you know it’s familiar. Your moonblood.

“Oh, this can not…” you trail off, moaning through gritted teeth as another jolt of pain runs through your belly.

Next to you, your husband has been roused from sleep by your stirring and moaning, blinking against the darkness and blearily into the night as he tries to understand what is going on. Propping himself up on one elbow, his groggy voice is laced with worry as he speaks, “what is the matter?”

You shift to lie on your back again, leaning up against the headboard. “I… my moonblood has come,” you say. The realization that it’s just your monthly bleeding does bring you some sense of relief, meaning your husband has not yet managed to put another child in you, but it also concerns you. “It feels like someone is clawing at my belly from the inside out… and I can not remember for it to be so painful before the pregnancy.”

It’s an instinct he’s developed over the course of your pregnancy, something you still catch him doing every now and then, but Aemond‘s hand immediately goes to your belly, rubbing small, soothing circles to somewhat ease the pain. And for someone possessing the blood of the dragon, his body certainly emanates a lot of heat. You’re immediately drawn towards him, melting against his frame, warmth radiating off of his bare chest.

Aemond brings his lips to the crown of your head, wrapping his arms around you. “That was to be expected, was it not?” he asks.

“Yes, but it is quite severe.” You flinch again at the stinging pain, though it is not as sharp with his warm hand splayed over your stomach. “Could you fetch me the maester to ease the pain?”

Your husband’s mind, however, quickly comes up with a different solution. “Well, I have heard and read that there’s another way to ease that kind of pain, my love,” he says, a teasing lilt to his voice. “A more… pleasurable alternative that may not completely rid you of the pain, but certainly takes your mind off of it.”

His words and the innuendo don’t surprise you at all. Ever since he truly has learned what it meant to indulge in the pleasures of flesh with you, he’s turned into a starved beast, desperate to get his fill of you every night until your little Baelon was born, and determined to get you round with his seed as quickly as possible again. The few weeks of rest that had been prescribed by the maester were the most difficult for him, struggling to keep his hands off of you. It was the complete opposite to the way he was while you grew up together; your usually quiet and observing uncle turned into a beast, similar to the one he claimed when he turned ten.

Aemond’s hand slowly drifts lower, and a small gasp escapes your lips, his fingers dancing lightly over the damp linen of your smallclothes. You look at him, your eyes half-lidded with a mix of pain and desire. “Do you really think… it would help?” you murmur softly, instinctively arching into his touch. The throbbing ache in your belly is temporarily replaced by a pleasant warmth spreading through your core.

“Oh, I very much believe it will,” he whispers in your ear, his voice low and gravelly.

A sly smile is on his lips as his thumb brushes over your pearl, making your breath hitch in your throat. Your head tips back into the pillows with a moan slipping past your lips. “Aemond…” you whisper, his name coming out in a mere breath, “please.”

He is quick to bow his head forward, capturing your lips for a kiss. As he tugs on your smallclothes, you wrap your arms around his neck for support, using the leverage to shimmy out of the damp linen.

You gasp against his lips as his nimble digits ease into your cunt, and Aemond presses his forehead against yours. Feeling you writhe beneath his touch, he lets out a low groan, a small shiver running down his spine at the wanton sight of his wife on the cusp of pleasure. “Relax, my love,” he rasps. “Let me take care of you.”

His fingers continue their ministrations, his touch gentle yet insistent, never slowing down, and your hips buck into his touch. There’s no denying your desire for him, your need for him. And while he focuses on easing your pain, your focus solely lies on him – or rather his cock. It’s always the same, for his fingers are never enough for you.

Aemond has pushed his sleeping trousers down to the point he was able to free his cock, thick, hard, and the tip glistening with a few beds of his arousal, indicating just how badly he wants to take care of you. Feeling his knuckles brush your thigh as his fist slides up and down his length, you whimper in anticipation while a strained grunt leaves his lips.

Without another word, Aemond positions himself between your legs, the motion fluid and practiced. His hands glide over the smooth skin of your thighs, pushing them further apart to accommodate him.

There is some impatience evident in his movements as he drags the tip of his cock through your soaked folds, causing you to gasp each time it presses against your sensitive pearl.

“Stop teasing me, Aemond,” you whine, your nerves on fire.

His lips curve into a smug smirk at your desperate whine. “What’s the rush, my love?”

Tilting his head forwards, he watches as he circles your entrance with his cock, repeatedly pushing just the tip inside… only to pull out mere moments later. While it drives you insane with lust, it also makes you aware of how slick you are for him – knowing it’s not just your arousal he’s coated in now.

That realization makes you feel shy, and you momentarily try to squeeze your thighs together to escape his hungry gaze – but to no avail. Tsking, Aemond is quick to pry your thighs apart again, raising a brow. “Do not shy away now,” he warns. “A little blood does not repel me.”

Pressing your lips into a thin line, you nod meekly at his words, and your husband takes that as his cue to continue. Where he usually sheathes him inside you in one, swift thrust, he’s slow and careful to enter you now, making sure you feel every vein and ridge of him on his way inside. You both moan in unison, never getting enough of each other.

Despite you being quite tense from the sharp pain tugging at your belly, Aemond buries himself inside of you with ease, your moonsblood adding to your slickness. It feels different than usual – you feel different than usual, more sensitive – yet the pleasure it brings is heightened and coaxes you to melt around him.

Your head tips back into the pillows, but Aemond is quick to bring a hand to the side of your neck, applying a bit of pressure to your chin with his thumb to force you to meet his gaze. There is a slight stutter in his hips as he sets up his slow pace, settling only once he’s found the perfect rhythm. With expert precision, he rolls his hips against yours. Your heels dig into his rear, encouraging him to go even deeper.

The dull, continuous ache in your belly grows weaker with every thrust, replaced by a warmth that spreads all the way to your limbs, fueled by the squelching sounds of his cock repeatedly disappearing into your soaked cunt.

Aemond has one hand on your neck and the other positioned on the mattress right next to your head, careful not to put all of his weight on your sensitive body. You take it upon yourself to tug on the low neckline of your nightgown, pulling it even lower to free your heavy breasts from their confines.

Your body is still providing enough milk to feed an army of children, despite you merely birthing one, and while they are heavy and hard to the touch, wearing clothes has always been a far worse agony. The creamish silk has been damp even before Aemond has touched you, and so it’s no surprise droplets of milk trickle from your darkened buds as soon as your fingers touch them.

And that is the moment he stops being careful, bowing down to capture one bud with his lips and press his body against yours. It’s a mix between a gasp and moan that slips past your lips, yet it’s enough to make clear the relief you feel.

The position all but forces him to roll his hips against yours languidly, but neither of you mind for it seems to bring you both enough pleasure. You can feel him suckle on your breast in the rhythm your cunt clenches around his cock. His cheeks dimpled from the suction; he’s propped up on one elbow, using his hand to pinch and roll the other bud between his fingers.

He alternates between licking and sucking, not keen on wasting just one drop of your precious milk. “Gods, Aemond,” you whine, arching your back against him. You feel him throb inside of you at the despair audible in your voice, spurring him on.

Your hips move on their own accord now, grinding against his and matching his movements, the pain in your belly and breasts long forgotten as you chase your pleasure.

A couple of moments pass until you feel Aemond’s breath growing labored, his chest almost heaving with more and more muffled grunts and groans escaping his throat. He is loud – much to your surprise – but your body seems keen at that, the pressure inside of your belly tightening at a rapid pace.

As his lips wrap around your other bud, the knot in your belly snaps. It’s either gripping the sheets or his hair to keep yourself grounded, and you opt for the latter, burying your hands inside of his silver strands. You use the grip to pull him closer to your breasts, more out of instinct than of clear will.

The sheets below you are soaked with a blend of your arousal and moonblood, trickling out of your cunt and coating Aemond’s cock and the sac of his stones. It’s the tightness of your peak’s contractions that eventually forces the seed from your husband, milking him for every last drop of his spent. His muscles go rigid, yet he hardly withdraws from your bud to release grunts and groans, too drunk on what’s supposed to be for your son.

He bites down as he spills inside of you, harder than you like considering your whole body is a sensitive mess at this point, but you do not begrudge him – it’s well deserved with how caring and careful he’s been to tend to your needs.

He buries his face between your now soft and tender breasts as you leisurely ride out your peaks, both your movements slowly, but surely, coming to a stop. You tug on his hair, and the sight of his half-lidded eye and his swollen lips makes you clench around him once more.

While Aemond swallows a groan, you urge his face towards yours for a kiss, moaning at the taste of your milk on his tongue. Labored breaths fan across each other’s faces as his mouth leaves yours, and you take a moment to stare at each other silently.

“Is the pain… has it eased?” Aemond’s voice is a hoarse whisper. Panting softly, he sits back on his haunches.

A small, bashful smile curves your lips, the haze of desire beginning to lift. Your body still thrums with the aftereffects of his endeavors. “I am quite alright,” you reply. “But perhaps we should indulge in a bath. I do believe a soak in hot water may alleviate my discomfort even more, and it seems we have both made quite the mess.”

You notice the mischievous gleam in his good eye. “If that is what my love desires, then consider it done. I shall have hot water brought to our chambers, and then I shall ensure that every bit of your discomfort is soothed.”

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chrollohearttags · 1 day

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taste of our world | e. jaeger, a. artlert, r. braun

(Y/N) is your typical workaholic. A successful business woman with everything going for her….except a love life! That is until your best friend invites you to dinner with her colleagues. Who beyond their fancy suits and expensive cars, harbor a secret that no one would expect.

black fem!reader, (reader is a bit nerdy and reserved) niesha cameo, finger sucking, groping (consensual), fingering, corruption kink, toys use, voyeurism, m/m action, spit play, 3 sum with an eventual fivesome, polyamory + other things, all the characters are in their late 20’s

📜: I’ve had this idea floating around for a while and I just wanted to try it out. It’s very much different from my normal fics but hey, maybe experimenting will get me out of this rut I’m in. Bc writing should be fun, not perfect and clean! :)

── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.───── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.──

life: it always had a strange way of working out. It could lead you down a variety of paths..some that you’d never even imagine. It was the very thought circulating your mind at the moment…positioned in a rather intricate and compromising manner; legs parted with your feet propped as if they were being hoisted by stirrups at a doctors office..not exactly how you would’ve been spending your Friday evenings some months ago.

“You poor thing, you’re so tense…must’ve been a long week, princess.” “Maybe she just needs someone to take her stress away. I think we can handle that..”

two voices interloping over that of your own infinite train of thoughts, speaking as if you weren’t even in the room. The ones racing through your mind at lightning speed as you struggled to take in your surroundings. A dimly illuminated room, shrouded in burgundy, black and cream colored decor. Canopy drapes hung above your head from the ceiling whilst you sat spread open with satin ropes binding your hands and ankles..those strappy heels you wore throughout your eight hour work day? Still coiled around those beautiful brown legs. It was a rather delectable sight to behold and they were itching to devour. The same could also be said of your button down blouse..still flesh against that curvaceous body and torn open by your doting boyfriends, the second they saw you in it and exposing those supple tits in the process. They made haste in hoisting your skirt to your tummy, and tugging those soaked panties down until they were torn completely off.

“And look, she even kept her toy in, all day..just like we asked. We’re so proud of you, baby.”

that deep voice cooing to you with a palm cupped around your cheek and a thumb pursed between your lips to suckle on. It was attached to a man, who by all accounts was your boyfriend. Eren, who’d entered your life six months prior and turned it upside down. Naturally, it was for the better..but it was certainly a culture shock nonetheless. Not many women could say they had a successful, attentive, loving partner who catered to her every whim in this society; less known, two of them. That honor also went to that of Reiner Braun. The more reserved yet most certainly, yet dominant of the pair. They were in sync, working reminiscent of a well oiled machine to convey their beloved (y/n) insurmountable pleasure at all costs. Needless to say, you had no complaints! Eventually, Eren would go on to replace that digit that had been pacifying you with his own lips, bending down to feed you slow, gentle yet sloppy kisses. Your tongues clash in a haze of bliss and coagulate with strings of saliva. Your doe brown eyes couldn’t help but to fixate on his green ones..full with lust and passion for his lady. He’d never seen something so precious to him. Something he wanted to protect and defile in the most salacious ways at the same time. Hence why his opposite hand was roughly groping those plump breasts and pinching your nipple. The other half of those perfectly manicured digits resided between your warm, spongy walls. Casually resting there with only subtle movements every so often.

“Of course..she was even kind enough to send us videos of herself. Can’t believe she only came once..told you our lil’ training would pay off, darlin.’ You just had to trust us..makes getting the whole thing that much better once yer’ home with us.”

that thick, buttery accent rang out in your ear as he nipped at the lobe. Marking it with gentle kisses before selfishly spinning your head around so that he too could get a sample of those sweet kisses. They were absolute feigns..addicts for every square inch of your flesh. Begging for a mere taste each time they were near you. Meanwhile, Reiner’s finger pads circled that sensitive clit; honing in on the swollen bud with gentle rubs to stimulate you. The men would cooperate in perfect harmony to stimulate all of your erogenous zones. Eren was far more delicate with his movements, as opposed to Reiner, who really appeased your sadistic side. One you weren’t even aware you liked until a few months ago. Yet here he was, feeding you very soft pats to the cheek as he intermittently pinched your nipples, even coiling that same hand around your throat to lightly asphyxiate you. A sensation you’d grown to be obsessed with. That’s how it was…when one would pull, the other pushed. When one gave to you, the other took but it was in the name of your gratification. Somewhat of a proverbial tug of war that they were playing both mentally and physically. “Oh my gosh…right there. Feels so good..” By the time the men hit their stride, you’d been reduced to a babbling mess with drool seeping from your lips. Eyes glazed over in inebriating lust and tiny giggles emitting from your mouth. Those whimpers and shrill cries had blossomed into beautiful moans that fed both of the men’s satisfaction. “Yeah, that’s what we wanna hear, baby. All we want is to make you feel good.” As they lay on their sides, still dressed in their designer slacks; although the top halves were bare, had managed to unravel their belts and tug them down until those aching erects were exposed. Conveniently, your hands were positioned ever so slightly so that you had access to both of those erect cocks.

“Fuck me…God, you’re so wet, princess. All that cream on my fingers. Can’t wait to feel it on my dick too..” his words slurring almost as if he were inebriated. Eventually fading off as he continued making out with you. Meanwhile, Reiner was not to be ignored. He had much more to say. “Maybe we can play in all those pretty holes, baby. Just like you wanted..use that cute little mouth of yours, this cute pussy and even fuck that lil’ asshole too..we’re gonna make you come yer’ brains out. So there isn’t a single thought left in there by the time we’re done.”

it was a threat that you personally wanted to see to fruition. You’d already made a mess once before..splattering their arms and fingers with your juices and was well on your way to a second release. You couldn’t take anymore of these promises. Your body was brimming with lust. Pure, unadulterated, unfathomable lust that could only be fulfilled with the lecherous desires that had been mentioned. “Yesss, please fuck me. Make me come.” To be used, stretched and stuffed to your ultimate capacity. Until your mind went absolutely blank and all that was left of you was a drooling little slut with the sole purpose of being their fucktoy. After all, it was what you had signed up for..literally and figuratively! When you agreed to become their submissive, their girl..you relinquished autonomy over yourself in the bedroom and allowed them to be solely responsible for delivering that sensation every week. Make no mistake, they fully supported you within your career and would never interfere with the way you ran your company. But when it came to personal aspects, you loved the idea of letting them make the decisions. The men would continue their descent and as they toyed with your body, their own lips would clash in a steamy haze. Heads dangling over your own as they made out and swirled their tongues around one another. The sight of two men kissing above you caused your insides to twitch around those fingers. You knew the drill…panting reminiscent of that of a pup, your tongue dangled from your mouth as it lay wide open. Before long, their own remnants of saliva were seeping in. This was due in part to those amazing handjobs you’d been giving them. Eren would reach down and grasp your throat as their fluids spilled to the back of it. “Good girl..swallow it.” Precum from both of their aching red tips seeped onto your knuckles. All of you were overcome with pleasure. And yet, still craving more.

but alas, your little display wasn’t the only one transpiring behind those four walls…

“Fuck…that’s so sexy.” “Yeah? Looks like she’s having a good time.” “I told you she would.”

because right before the foot of the bed, lie two spectators to this very illustrious rendezvous. Trusted eyes glued to the little display and partaking in activities of their own. Your best friend. Another successful woman in her own right. A home selling maverick with a rather successful real estate empire and her equally successful fiance, Armin. He amassed his fortune in marine engineering and helped craft some of the world’s most expensive sea vessels. A power couple by every definition of the word. However, at the moment..their eyes were fixated on you. With her back pressed to her man’s chest and her legs spread wide, she sat between Armin’s thighs as his arms spanned down between her own. His nimble fingers pushing in and out of your best friend’s tight cunt. Never would you have imagined being in such a compromising position. He’d massage her clit as the two observed you. You had known your best friend since childhood and there was rarely a secret harbored between the two of you. However, the one she decided to withhold…was interesting to say the least! Because after what you thought to be a harmless, casual dinner with her and some of her colleagues..who she was introduced to by her fiance, things changed! He and Eren happened to be childhood best friends as well and you figured this was her attempt at arranging some sort of relationship between the two of you. If you knew anything about her, she’d probably say that it would be cute for you guys to hook up solely because you’d be two sets of besties dating! You didn’t really pay the notion much mind but after sitting across the table from this charming and handsome man, your resolve softened and by the end of the night, he had you giggling like an idiot..smiling from ear to ear. He began to call and leave gifts at your office. Kind, respectful and gentle: all the quality traits you sought in a man. Eren was everything you could’ve imagined. He swept you off your feet and took your breath clean from your lungs. However, there was something off about this dream beau of yours that you couldn’t quite place your finger on…in fact, the whole group seemed to be in on a secret you were clueless about. One you’d find out about after overhearing your best friend and those two whispering after a night out.

“Maybe we should tell her..”

“I don’t think she’ll be down for it. You see how she is for yourself.”

“We don’t know until we try..”

The thing in question exactly? A foursome! Because unbeknownst to you, everyone within your friends circle was into polyamory. What was even more so shocking, is that it seemed to be another missing piece from this puzzle as well…totaling the group to a quadruplet. Make no mistake, you loved each of them dearly and as much as you hated to admit so this early on, you were absolutely smitten with Eren…but even this was a lot to take in. Your sex life was rather vanilla and honestly, nonexistent up until this point. You’d consider yourself bisexual at some point also but never really acted on it. You were too busy with work to concern yourself with any of those matters. But after one night with Eren, you were exposed to things you never thought possible. Both sexually and emotionally. You never knew pleasure the way you did with him and yet, the thought of sharing him made you want to denounce the potential relationship altogether. However, once the four of you were alone, things changed. You began to realize just how confined and restricted your sexual prowess had been.

that you’d limited yourself to all the possibilities that could transpire within your love life. When you asked why they participated, their answers aligned to the same thing. The corporate world was a drag and there was something so liberating about breaking societal norms within their personal lives when everything else was so structured. Even your best friend said that she’d never felt closer to Armin and more in tune with herself. So, as a way of ‘initiating’ you into their lifestyle, once you agreed to give it a shot..your boyfriend placed a blindfold over your eyes, spread your legs apart and allowed all three of them to take turns eating you out..feasting on that sweet little pussy of yours and devouring it until you were a shaking mess.

you lost track of the number of times you came that night and all of them were enjoying themselves quite a bit but your pleasure was the number one priority right now. What started as a simple double date between successful couples, ended with your best friend’s tongue in your cunt as her husband to be fucked her from behind! Meanwhile, Eren sat back observing..stroking himself at the sight and you’d never been turned on more than you had in that moment! Even so, to the naked and public eye, no one would ever guess that this sort of thing roused any of you guys’ fancy. What you all displayed to the world were business oriented professionals who excelled at their line of work. Behind closed doors, however..were lovers intertwined in an adoring and sex positive relationship. Fast forward a month or so after that and you were introduced to Eren’s partner..who held the title in more ways than one. Reiner Braun..the hulking six foot four, two hundred and ninety pound stud of a man with a thick country accent. It was blatantly obvious that he was enamored with you from the second your eyes met.

“She’s beautiful, isn’t she?” “Damn gorgeous..”

where Eren exercised couth and gracefulness in every word he spoke; soft in tone yet deep in vibrato, Reiner made up for in sheer honesty. The contrast was something you grew to adore..especially when they both made it abundantly clear that they wanted you and they weren’t interested in making you choose. Rather, they wanted a different arrangement..one that allowed for the three of you to be in a relationship. Exclusive only to one another with the occasional hookup with your best friends..complex may have been an understatement but you were somehow open to the idea. Naturally, it wouldn’t just be limited to sexual favors. They’d take care of you in mind, body and spirit. Cooking meals for you, massaging your feet, ensuring that your bills were paid despite being capable of doing so all on your own..hell, only a month into the agreement, you were the most pampered you had ever been! No longer did you feel the need to live in survival mode..not being strong and independent because you had no other choice. If they even so much as saw you struggling to open a can, they’d rush to your aid.

“As long as we’re around, you don’t need to worry yourself with anything. We’re gonna take care of you, princess. I promise.”

there were never any egos involved or talks of no longer wanting to share..they set aside their pride and all solely for you. They wanted you to feel safe, loved and secure in every facet of your life. You could be soft or weak and they’d never judge you for it. They’d kiss your feet and the ground beneath it if it made you smile.

so as you sat bound with their fingers buried inside of your hole..the other circulating your clit as the three of you exchanged sloppy pecks and saliva..nearing your climatic peak, they’d observe and follow the pace. All of you in tune with one another’s psyche and nearing your inevitable orgasms…it was a pleasure you’d never experienced before and it made you so happy that you’d finally gotten a taste of their world.

“Fuck..are you gonna come for us, baby? Please come for us..squirt all over our fucking fingers, princess..”

“Yeah, let us have it, sweetheart. Don’t you dare think about holding back.”

and now that you had, there was no way you were coming back to normal!

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tootiecakes234 · 1 day

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Aged up Characters

MDNI: smutty

Katsuki had been gone for a month on an assignment and not only had he been away from you all that time, but it’d also been one of the most exhausting assignments he’d been on. Which is why he had EVERY intention of getting home and passing out in your shared bed for the next 3-4 business days.

He had a plan. Get home, take a shower and get directly into bed. Fuck food, fuck putting his things away.

But that entire plan went up in smoke when he got home.

He walks in with all his stuff and just drops everything close to the entrance. He trudges his way through the house and into your bedroom, when he hears the shower cut off.

He knew you were home because your car was in the driveway, but expected you to greet in the front room but he now sees you were otherwise occupied. What he didn’t expect was for you to come scampering out of the damn bathroom completely naked and dripping wet.

You of course screamed bloody murder because you hadn’t heard him come in.

“Katsuki what the hell?!! You scared the shit out of me! I could’ve killed you.”

He snorts, “with what? Your tits? Death by smothering??”

“Maybe dammit. My hearts almost came out of my throat.”

“So this is what you do when I’m gone huh?” He asks as he starts walking over to you. “Walk around naked and wet and what?? Do you air dry?” At this point his voice had dropped an octave or two and you could feel his eyes roaming over your body.

“No i d-don’t air dry…. Well that wasn’t my intention this time. I just left my towel out here.”

“Mmmm…” and he snakes his arms around your waist pulling you to him focusing his eyes on yours. “ I get home after a month and you dont even seem excited to see me.”

“Well maybe if you hadn’t tried to give me a heart attack…ouch asshole. Why the hell did you pinch my ass?”

“Be nice to me. I’m tired and jetlagged…. And now, because of you I’m hard” he of course takes this moment the press his groin up against you so you can feel how hard he actually is.

Your hands are resting on his biceps before the slide up and your hands sift into his hair.

“Well let me just dry off and I’ll help you with that” and you have the nerve to try and pull away from him.

“Why would you go dry off when I like you just like this hmm? Wet. And Naked.” And then he presses his firm lips against yours before sliding his hands down to cup both of your ass cheeks.

“Tell me you missed me brat. I’ve been here 5minutes and you haven’t said it.” He says with his lips pressed up against you ear and then he moves down and start placing sloppy kisses on your neck.

“Of, fuck, of course I missed you Katsuki. I sent you voice messages e-everyday telling you how much I missed you.” You whine.

“I don’t believe you.” And you jump before letting out a moan when this asshole slaps the hell out of one of your asscheeks. Then he slides his hand down and in between your puffy pussy lips.

When he pulls back to look at you there is a smirk playing on his lips. “Maybe you did miss me.”

“I told you.” You say as a pout forms on your lips.

“I can’t be sure though. I need you to prove it.”

“Prove it how Kat? I’m wet for you already. Is that not enough??”

Then his smirk turns into the most devilish smile you’ve ever see. “ i told you im exhausted from fighting villains, and you know making the world a safer place.”

“Get to the point you terrible man”

He chuckles at that. “Well that means I need you to be a big girl and do all the work this time. Need you to get my cock all wet with that filthy mouth of yours and then need you to ride me til I fill up my pretty little cunt ok?? Can you do that for me?”

All you can do is nod your head and drop to your knees.

This definitely not how he pictured his arrival home. It was so much better.

Katsuki Bakugo Masterlist

*id just like to say that this fic started with a whole different idea in mind and evolved into this and i never even got around to the original because it was getting too long😭

*also this isn’t proofread in the slightest so sorry🤭

Tags: @dreamcastgirl99 @xxvendettaxx @justbepeace @moonpieshawdy @theloveofnagiseishiroslife @mintsbubbletea @darkstarlight82 @anon-mouse223 @b134ch-m4h-ey3z @i-literally-cant-with-this @flowerbedbaby @kit-katsukii @blaize-hewwo @sweetblueworm @tippy-toes @superlegend216 @kxtsxkii @liliththeunqualifiedsimp @burgvndy @fluffismystaplefood @yoyolovesdaiki @zaiban2989 @zanarkandskylines

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ventique18 · 1 day

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Shop owner 🌸 and 🐉 who comes by everyday to get something without fail. The first time you met was uneventful; just one normal customer amongst the many-- if a huge guy dressed in expensive-looking tailored outfits was the norm. You called him "sir" the first couple of times, but after a few pleasant conversations and comfortable laughter, you began to affectionately greet him with a "Hello, stranger." He flushed at that and immediately introduced himself because he always forgot to do so before. You laughed and proposed that "stranger" be your exclusive nickname for him, to which he reluctantly agreed. He eventually grew to like it.

If you sell flowers, he'll rotate between bouquets and mention that they're for his grandmother. If you're a pharmacist, he'll pick up vitamins and maintenance meds daily. You ask why he just doesn't get a bottle once a month, so he'll share that his father's a bit forgetful so he personally hands it to him daily. It doesn't really answer why he needs to buy exactly one tablet each, once a day-- but you're not one to press people.

If you sell...rice, he's basically providing 90% of your income by picking up several kilos every day. You ask if he's running an orphanage with how much he needs, but he just laughs and spills that he has growing brothers and they both eat like hungry crocodiles.

Honestly, you quickly catch on that he just likes talking to you. You don't really see him around outside of his appearances to buy something, so it must take a bit of effort to travel from wherever he comes from. So one day you jokingly mention, "You should just move next to me if my wares are that integral to your life. God knows we need more neighbors here besides retired old ladies and their noisy grandkids ringing my doorbell for shits and giggles."

"I wish you would move into my house."

"Sorry, what was that? The neighbor's music is a bit loud."

He smiles a polite "nothing" before bidding you farewell for the day. A week passes by and he doesn't come again. You wonder if what you said was off-putting to him, but you settle with the more positive thought that he must have a lot going on in his private life. You find yourself hoping he'd pass by again so you could apologize if your joke offended him in any way. Odd as your relationship is, you do think of him as a friend.

So when one day you're walking home from having visited the groceries, your surprise is immeasurable as you stroll by Ms. Betsy's house. Because instead of the cranky auntie who liked to yell at kids and hiss at visiting stray cats, there now stands a guy. A huge guy with equally huge shears shaping the bushes around shrubs of roses that you swear Ms. Betsy never had. A guy that you know very well.

You do remember that the auntie used to like droning about how she'd sell that house and fly to a different country as soon as the opportunity arises, but...

"Hello, stranger..?" You greet with an equal amount of hesitation, confusion, and relief.

He turns. You swear your stomach exploded into a fit of butterflies when a mischievous smile plays on his lips.

"Why, hello... neighbor. You were not joking when you mentioned the children who enjoy ringing doorbells."

You laugh, "Did I mention shopkeepers who ring their neighbor's doorbells yet?"

"That," he replies as he begins sauntering back to his house, "I do not mind." When his hand reaches the door knob, he looks back to you with a grin, "Would you like a cup of tea? You can tell me more about this mysterious shopkeeper over a tray of honey biscuits."

#i played fields of mistria's demo and thought of this #twisted wonderland #malleus draconia #ventique rambles #malleus x reader

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kenntolog · 3 days

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So I read abt ur popular bf Gojo x loser gf (yummy work 👌)

But how about 👏🙌 popular bf Gojo with loser gf that’s has bad eyesight that refuses to wear glasses🫴 (totally self projecting)

Yk since his eyesight is rlly rlly good 😂

Idk if you’ll see this but imma shoot my shot 🏹💛🔖

𝝑𝝔 an: fun fact!! I TOO REFUSE TO WEAR GLASSES even tho i have them hehehhehe. thank you so much, my darling!! sending you all my loveeee <33 read more here!!

calls you 4 eyes. no one laughs, but satoru continues to joke about your eyesight when you’re around his friends, which doesn’t even bother you, you just smile sheepishly at him and look away. that is until he starts poking your cheek to get your attention again, he’s such a loser inside!

one thing about gojo is that he’s gonna carry a couple of sunglasses that have different shapes just so he can wear them and lamely joke about having 6 eyes… THAT SOUNDS SO CORNY BUT WHEN I IMAGINE IT IN MY HEAD I CAN’T HELP THINKING THAT SATORU’D LOOK SO CUTE

like pouting when shoko rolls eyes eyes with a groan and straight up leaves because of his bad joke, and all you can do is ruffle his hair and giggle a little so he feels better. his ego would be effectively restored after that, for sure.

also like, whenever you both sit beside each other in class you share, you ask him to read whatever the teacher is writing there so you can scribble it down real quick, you know, since satoru doesn’t really write anything down.

he agrees eagerly only so he can mess up whatever’s written there and laugh as you mindlessly note everything coming out of his mouth. only after reading through your texts later you notice that whatever you wrote just doesn’t make sense and is a pile of nonsense. satoru doesn’t even feel ashamed when you lightly scold him, laughing histerically 😭😭

he’s always telling you to get glasses, offering to go with you and help you choose the frame, even tries to trick you into going to the shop with him, but overall he doesn’t really mind that about you. quite the opposite, satoru’s always eager to help you out whenever you need him hehe :))

#— miya writes!#jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #gojo satoru fluff #gojo satoru x reader #gojou x reader #gojo x reader #jjk gojo #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru #satoru x reader #jjk satoru #gojou satoru x reader #gojou satoru x you #popular gojo x loser reader #— miya’s inbox!#jujustsu kaisen x reader

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devoutekuna · 2 days

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Having to share you

Includes- Toji, Sukuna, Nanami, Gojo, Geto

Sukuna-

He's not big on sharing, that's why he ate his twin brother in the womb. Normally he be fine with his daughter coming to you but whilst he was spending quality time with you was different. It was rare to get some time with the family, especially just you, since you were always so busy with your daughter. "Go away daddy" climbing onto the bed where you sat and your husband was said out on, hands wrapped around your waist. "I want mummy!" Pink hair ruffling along your knee as she used all her strength to get up, fortunately for him he had this bed custom made so that it would be higher. "You go away" glaring at his offspring. "No! You got mummy yesterday, it's my turn!" He didn't even know what she was talking about since they never took turns, plus you and him slept in the same bed every night. Helping the girl up as she sat next to you, wearing her white vest and light pink heart shorts, matching her hair. "Go away" kicking her father's hand away from your waist. Body being dragged towards him as he picked her up by the legs, hanging her upside down. "You've been getting on my nerves you brat" swinging her from side to side, much to your dismay.

"Leave her Ryo" trying to turn her upside down as he let go, if it wasn't for you she would've went face down onto the mattress. Coddling her in your arms, sticking her tongue out at the man.

Nanami-

He had you wrapped around his finger, body laying on his ass you two slept, he had just come back from a mission and wanted to unwind after having dinner with his family. He especially wanted some quality time with his beautiful wife, just you two. "Mummy!" Looking in the room before barging in, but having the courtesy to close the door behind her. "Your mum's asleep sweetheart" he was clearly lying as he just wanted you right now. "Now she's not!" Poking at her leg, only to get a reaction out of you, your daughter knew all your weak spots. "Hi mummy!" She was energetic today, maybe it's because she had some cake whilst you two ate dinner, getting herself up on the bed as she threw her toy down onto the pillow next to him, laying on his chest as she poked at your face which was buried in-between the blanket and his body. "Let your other rest" dragging her leg backwards. "No fair! You always get mum to yourself" that wasn't true, half the time you two were taking care of the girl rather than having quality time together.

Geto-

He loved his daughter but she was always with you, never getting anytime to you two, though how mena it sounded he loved when his daughter was at school or asleep since he could get you all to himself. Swaying your hips side to side as you finished putting away the dishes, hands tracing circles along your stomach, head resting on your head as he watched you. "When your done, do you want to head to the bedroom?" Smiling at you as you knew what he had in mind. "I think-" getting cut off as you heard your daughter screaming your name. "Mama!" Hugging your leg, completely ignoring her father. "Come play with me" tugging on your limb as she tried to drag you away from her father. "I can't baby, how about your father?" Glancing back at him as you saw his smile face, he was really looking forward to spending time with you. "I mean.."

Gojo-

Sat watching a movie with you, with you sat up and him laid out resting his head on your lap. Hands always digging into the bowl of sweets on the coffee table Infront, he wasn't even paying attention to the movie since he hated romance, but he'd do anything to have some more quality time with you. Enjoying himself till he heard the soft sound of feet coming towards the living room. "Mama!" You didn't understand why he was even awake since you chose to watch the movie at around 8pm so he should be in bed asleep. The boy walking up to you two wearing his blue dragon onesie with his stuffed dragon in tow. "Mama" rubbing his eye as he climbed beside you, resting his head on your side. "Let me watch" oh how much Satoru wanted to say no since his son was always with you.

Toji-

Sleeping next to Toji always had it's pros and cons, he pros being that he kept you warm and it was comforting to have a figure hugging you as you slept, the cons were that he always held you too tight or whenever you needed to get something he either refused to move wanting to stay with you or was always fast asleep. This day, he wasn't actually holding you whilst you slept since you joined him in bed after he fell asleep. Feeling another weight join in the bed as he rolled over, coming face to face with his daughter. Grinning in his face as she slapped him on accident, hand covering his face. "Hi daddy!" Moving her hand out of his face. "Hi, what are you doing in here?" Bringing your body closer to yours.

"I've come to sleep in here" wrapping herself underneath the blanket, that's where he was supposed to be, close to your body rather than his daughter. "How about we swap sides?" Trying to get closer to you. "I'm good" shuffling her body to get comfortable.

#geto fluff #gojo fluff #nanami fluff #sukuna fluff #toji fluff #geto x reader #gojo x reader #sukuna x reader #toji x reader #nanami x reader #geto suguru #gojo satoru #toji fushiguro #nanami kento #sukuna ryomen #jjk drabbles #jjk x reader #jjk #𝙳𝚎𝚟𝚘𝚞𝚝𝚎𝙺𝚞𝚗𝚊

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incognit0slut · 2 days

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Much Ado About Nothing (Act 1, Scene 1: The Silent Agreement)

Ever since that night, you and Spencer had always been at odds, but there was one thing you both agreed on.

Part warning: just two idiots bickering nonstop Words: 1,6k A/n: so nervous about starting this but welcome to the first part! It's a short introduction though I'm trying to make longer chapters in the future

SERIES MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST

Hate was too strong of a word, too intense and dramatic for the subtler, more nuanced disdain you felt toward him. It was more like a persistent itch you couldn’t scratch, a pebble in your shoe, or a fly that wouldn’t leave you alone.

You didn’t hate him. You didn’t even dislike him all the time. But there were moments when you wanted to shake him, or yank his tie hard enough to shut his smart mouth. Because every time he started throwing around statistics and facts, he made it sound like you couldn’t possibly understand, as if you weren’t on the same intellectual level as him.

And right now was one of those times you wanted to wipe that smug look off his face.

“You’re wrong,” you argued, not breaking eye contact as you leaned across the cluttered map with pins and photos of various crime scenes. “The Unsub doesn’t fit the profile of someone who strikes randomly. Look at the pattern, the meticulous planning in each location—it’s obvious they selected victims based on specific criteria, not opportunity.”

Spencer scoffed, his eyes narrowing slightly. “The victims have nothing in common. Different ages, different backgrounds, different cities. How do you explain the randomness of the victims if it was planned?”

“It’s the chaos that’s planned, the seeming randomness, each victim is at a pivotal point. The Unsub is not just killing; they’re sending a message through the timing.”

“A message? Or is that just what you want to see?”

You frowned, not liking the condescending tone in his voice. “Reid, not everything has to fit into your neat little boxes of logic. Sometimes, you have to look beyond the obvious.”

“You mean baseless assumptions?”

“How about intuition?” you snapped back. “How about pattern recognition that isn’t immediately visible but becomes clear when you consider the psychological aspects?”

“You mean your hunches?

You gritted your teeth. “It’s not about my hunches. It’s about understanding the Unsub’s mind. They’re choosing victims who are at turning points in their lives for a reason. Maybe it’s symbolic, maybe it’s personal."

“Or maybe you’re just reading too much into this.”

Your frustration bubbled over. You knew if he weren’t talking to you, he might actually agree—No, he would definitely agree. You had enough experience working with him to understand his analytical style and to know that he valued well-reasoned arguments. Yet now it felt like he was purposely dismissing your perspective.

He wasn’t being fair.

“You know what? Sometimes I think you’d argue with a freaking wall if it meant you could prove a point.” To me at least. "Not everything is a textbook case, and not every answer is in your precious statistics.”

You saw him raise an eyebrow. “And you’d dismiss all logical analysis if it meant you could rely solely on intuition. How is that any more valid?”

“It’s not about relying solely on intuition,” you defended. “It’s about seeing the connections, the human behavior that your statistics can’t always explain.”

“But you’re assigning meaning where there might be none.” He gave you a pointed look. “Not only is that dangerous, you’re being reckless.”

Red. You were seeing red. Your retort was on the tip of your tongue when a sharp clearing of a throat suddenly interrupted. You both turned to see Hotch standing at the corner of the room.

"Let's redirect this energy towards something productive," Hotch interrupted, you could almost feel the weight of his stare. "Both of your insights are pointless if you keep arguing like this.”

“I wasn’t arguing.”

You rolled your eyes. “Sure, you weren’t.”

Your boss sighed, the kind of deep, exasperated sigh that seemed to pull the oxygen out of the room. “Just... work together. Please.”

The plea was simple, filled with the tiredness of having had this conversation more times than anyone cared to count. He then turned to leave and the room suddenly felt too big, the silence too loud.

You glanced over at Spencer the same time his eyes fell on you. But before either of you could say anthing, the door jerked open, and you watched as Derek sauntered into the room.

“Did you two fight again? Because Hotch asked me to babysit you.”

You scoffed. “Really? Those were his exact words?”

“Of course not, he asked me you needed supervision because you can’t stop sniping at each other.”

“Supervision,” you muttered under your breath, the word sounding ridiculous because it was the last thing you needed. “We don’t need supervision.”

“Exactly. What you both need is a babysitter.”

“We’re also not kids.”

Derek chuckled, leaning against the doorframe. “Could’ve fooled me. Given how loud you were, I half-expected someone to start throwing toys.”

Spencer was quick to defend himself. “We were having a professional disagreement.”

“A professional disagreement?” Derek mocked, pretending to be deep in thought. “That’s what they’re calling it these days?”

You huffed, crossing your arms. “Yes, Morgan, some of us prefer to call it that instead of ‘arguing like toddlers’.”

The grin spreading across his face was so annoying that you wondered whether you should’ve put your frustration on him instead. Derek pushed himself off the doorframe and walkes over to Spencer, casually draping an arm around his shoulders.

“Alright, Pretty Boy, let’s hear your side of this professional disagreement.”

Spencer shifted uncomfortably under his arm but managed to maintain his composure. “We were discussing the Unsub’s choice of victims. I believe the randomness is genuine, while someone,” he glanced pointedly at you, “Thinks there’s a pattern.”

Derek raised an eyebrow. “What pattern?”

You stepped forward, determined to explain. “Look at the victims’ timelines. They were all at critical junctures—new jobs, big moves, major life changes. The Unsub isn’t picking them randomly; they’re choosing people going through something significant.”

Derek nodded thoughtfully, removing his arm from Spencer’s shoulders. “Alright, I see where you’re coming from. And you, Reid, think it’s just a coincidence?”

“I think the Unsub might be targeting randomly to avoid detection. Patterns can be dangerous for them.”

You sighed. “Can we at least agree to look at both possibilities? If we cross-reference the victims’ life changes with significant dates in the Unsub’s background, we might find a connection.”

You held his gaze as he studied you. You were right, you both knew you were, but you could tell admitting he was wrong was the last thing he wanted to do. There was a tense silence as he considered your suggestion, his eyes flicking between the evidence board and you.

Finally, he nodded, albeit reluctantly. “Fine. We can analyze both angles and see if there’s any overlap.”

“See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?” Derek chimed in with a smirk, clearly enjoying the moment. “You know, you could’ve gotten more work done if you two still got along.”

Derek’s words hit harder than you expected, a bittersweet reminder of a time when things were simpler. He was right, of course. There was a time when you and Spencer were more than just colleagues locked in constant debate. You were friends—good friends, even. You could almost hear the echoes of shared laughter that had once come so easily.

You remembered late nights at the office, the two of you working over case files and tossing ideas back and forth. Back then, your debates had been lively, yes, but never tinged with the frustration and competition that seemed to color your interactions now.

And to make matters worse, Derek suddenly voiced out the question neither of you dared to ask out loud.

“You guys used to be inseparable,” he mused, glancing at the two of you with an amused smile. “Wonder where it went wrong.”

You knew he was joking, but his words carried an uncomfortable truth that you couldn’t ignore. You could also tell it affected Spencer because his eyes met yours silently.

You both were thinking the same thing. You were sure of it, because everything had changed after that night, that one night you wished to forget. That one night when you thought your friendship would change for the better, but instead, it turned into a moment of clarity, a freaking slap to the face.

The change was immediate, like the abrupt silence that follows a sudden, jarring noise. What had once been effortless and natural now felt forced and awkward. The distance between you grew. The ease with which you once communicated had been replaced by a strained formality, as if both of you were trying too hard to pretend that nothing had changed.

It was as if you had made a silent pact to never speak of that night, an unspoken agreement to bury it deep and carry on as best you could. Both of you were too proud, too scared to address the elephant in the room.

You looked away, unable to hold his gaze any longer. The weight of the unspoken words pressed heavily on your chest, and sure, it seemed childish to harbor such disdain at your big age, but you couldn’t help it. It wasn't just the loss of a friendship that stung; it was the betrayal of knowing someone so close could cause you such pain.

Because Spencer Reid had hurt you deeply that night, so much so that a small, spiteful part of you wanted to hurt him too.

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girlokwhatever · 3 days

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ʚɞ✧˖ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ- end of beginning,, pt.2

part one

emily engstler x fem!ex!reader

you got ready in record time. the combination of your nerves and excitement together spurred you into a frenzy, encouraging you to bounce around your hotel room like you were being rushed.

emily said she’d pick you up soon, causing you to hurriedly make the finishing touches on your look tonight. there was that feeling still, deep down, that you wanted desperately to impress her.

the shared conversation you had echoed in your mind the moment the two of you departed. she asked you out to dinner. your mind teetered on the line between two ideas: she wanted closure so you two could be teammates without your history getting in the way, or, maybe she hasn’t moved on.

you think in some ways you have, but was that even true? if emily came to you with a confession of love that she never let go of, what would you do?

there wasn’t time to ponder the thought because your phone dinged. it was a simple message from emily telling you she’s here. ‘waiting for you outside’ she said, simple but enough to make your heart beat faster. you gathered your essentials and left the ghost-like hotel room to meet emily outside.

when you caught sight of her, leaning against her car, hands buried deep in her pockets and ankles crossed, you knew you were done for. she looked so beautiful, no less than you remember.

“hey, sorry, i know i’m a bit early.”

“it’s all good, i was ready anyway.”

she eyes you up and down, smiling to herself because she recognizes the bracelet you’re wearing. it’s one of the many she bought for you during your relationship. a token of her love for you.

“i was thinking we could get some hibachi, your hotel is kinda close.”

you nod, affirming it’s a pleasant choice. the car ride there is filled with simple conversation. you realize it’s the kind of conversation you’d have with someone you barely know, but then again, it’s been two years since you’ve seen emily.

she is different. but so are you.

“okay i’m gonna warn you, i’ve heard mixed reviews about this place.”

the two of you had been seated almost ten minutes ago and still haven’t been given drinks. you didn’t mind much but you could tell by her bouncing leg that emily was losing patience.

“and you didn’t feel like that was worth mentioning earlier?”

“well i remember you like hibachi and this is the only place i know of that serves it.”

she’s giving you a playful shrug as her fingers toy with the lanyard attached to her keys. you can’t help but let your eyes linger, watching her facial features shift slightly when she breaks eye contact or noticing the almost invisible shake in her hands. she seems much more reserved, a lot quieter than you know her to be.

“hey do you remember that time,” she smiles as she pauses to collect her thoughts, “when we got hibachi and the guy accidentally burnt you with the shrimp?”

“oh my god- yes. i still, to this day, have no clue how he managed to flip it on me instead of the stove.”

“dude that was classic. i mean, unfortunate for you but definitely funny.”

emily leans back against the wooden chair, relaxing into the seat. she was looking at you again and still smiling at the contagious happy memory. it was a popular story to tell during your relationship.

“yeah okay, but when i mention that time in the park when you fell on your face it’s not funny?”

“no. you threw the ball way too high. i don’t even know how you threw the football like that.”

“from practicing when we went to the beach that one time, remember? we’d throw the ball on the beach at night.”

all the recounts of priceless stories never to be forgotten makes your chest swell with fondness. to see the way emily smiles when talking about them warms your heart even more because she’s genuinely happy and you sense no resentment in her tone. she’s appreciative of the time she got to spend with you, even if it was short-lived.

“i don’t think i could ever forget that. it was the best vacation of my life for sure. it was so good, school had kinda been stressing me out and all so i was just happy to get away with you. i remember our first night there you wore that really pretty dress, the white one, and you asked me to take pictures of you at sunset but it was so windy and you kept getting mad. oh my gosh you were so mad. i still have the one picture where you’re pulling that piece of hair out of your mouth and you got so upset because i took the picture and sent it to myself. but you looked so beautiful anyway, it was good.”

you don’t say anything, too shocked to properly collect yourself. though you knew ex’s could be friends, you weren’t aware it was like this. you’re in awe of her really, feeling your cheeks grow warm at her compliments of your beauty.

your eyes stay trained on emily but she’s looking straight ahead at the wall, rummaging through all her memories containing you. you’re all she can think about in this moment and she’s not aware how obvious that simple fact is. she was too lost in thought, too busy missing her past to realize her word vomit.

“i remember too how an ocean wave knocked you over and you got a bunch of sand in your hair,” she leans back further, trying to submerge herself in the memory. “and i had to help you wash it out that night cause your arms were tired. then for the rest of the week you made me go in the ocean with you every time so i could help hold you up, i think i can still feel how tight you’d grip me when a wave came. and we’d always get burnt cause we’d float together for ages. but i didn’t even care because i was just happy to be there with you. nothing else mattered to me.”

the intensity of her words finally dawn on emily, immediately stiffening and clearing her throat. the air between you is thick and her confession weighs in the space between. you have no idea how to react or what you could possibly say to her, but you don’t have to because someone is finally asking what you want to drink.

the rest of dinner was tense with very few shared words. every now and then emily would comment on the quality of the food and you’d say nothing in return.

what could you say?

the ride back to your hotel was even worse. the soft hum of the radio and an occasional road bump was the only noise to fill your space. your eyes stayed glued on the sunset out the window the entire time, trying to remember how you ended up in this situation.

you thought back on everything. from the moment emily asked you to be her girlfriend, the moment you broke up with her, to earlier in the night when she asked you out to dinner. anecdotes of your shared past with her flooded your mind and refused to leave. it wasn’t until she parked at your hotel that they drained, leaving you with a teary waterline and regrets of past decisions. and current ones.

“thanks for taking me out tonight.”

“yeah, no problem.” silence lingered as you climbed out of her passenger seat but once you were about to shut the door she spoke up again, “i’m sorry.”

but it was too late and she wasn’t even sure if you heard her because you just kept walking. shaky breaths and silence consumed the walk back to your room, nothing in your mind but blame on yourself.

you should’ve said something, acknowledged her admission and reciprocated it. instead you sat there silently and visibly watched her shrink in on herself.

you were a coward.

you were a coward back then when you broke up with her, not able to face the uncertainty change would bring. it had only gotten worse. you realized that maybe some things don’t ever change.

the harsh opinion you harbored for yourself only made you feel worse. once you reached your room the tears began to fall one by one down your face, a pent-up sob escaping you from your spot on the bed.

emily was still parked outside, watching the time pass by. with each minute she debated on going inside, straight to your room. she wasn’t entirely sure what she’d do or say when she got there, but she just wanted to see you again.

it had been thirteen minutes since you left. thirteen minutes since she saw you. thirteen minutes since the opportunity to win you over again had passed. thirteen minutes sitting in silence waiting for you to text her something, anything. but you never did.

she couldn’t leave knowing she didn’t try.

so she didn’t. she remembered seeing your key card, your floor and room written across it in bold lettering. that’s where she found herself now, standing on your floor gathering the courage to just knock.

finally she did, hearing you shuffle on the other side of the door. she could swear a drop of sweat was dripping down her forehead, bringing the back of her hand up to wipe at it.

“emily?”

“can i talk to you?” she was going to throw up, she was going to throw up, “please?”

“yeah.. are you okay?”

“are you?” emily looks at your face, makeup disrupted by wet streaks and eyes slightly red, red enough to be noticed. her tone came out harsher than she meant it to, pushing her way into the cold room. you don’t answer, instead busying yourself with shutting the door and turning the lights on.

“can i sit down?”

“go for it.”

she props herself up on the end of your bed, hands resting on her bouncing knees as you approach. you lean against the wall a few feet away as she begins to speak.

“i’m sorry for dinner, if it made you feel weird or anything. i think i should tell you, just get it out of the way, that i still think about you. all the time. and, like, i miss you. i know we’ve both probably changed and we’re different people now, i get it. but nothing, nothing, amounts to the way i felt with you. when i saw you today i felt like old me again. i want nothing more than to be like that again.” emily catches her breath, the jumbled confession coming so suddenly. “i went back to louisville last summer, just to see jeff and stuff. being there reminded me of you. i felt better there because i felt like part of you was there with me.”

she looks at you expectantly, waiting for some type of reaction. you just stare at her with an unreadable expression, tears dipping at the corners of your mouth and you bring a gentle hand up to wipe them away.

“do you ever..” she buries her head in her hands, dragging them down her face, “do you ever feel that way? tell me you don’t and i’ll leave if you want me to. i just have to know so that i can move on with my life.”

“emily..”

“it’s okay” she whispers, “it’ll be fine.”

she stands, tucking her flyaways behind her ear. your eyes connect with a silent message as you try to find the right words. you turn your head away from her direction because you feel like she’s peering into you, dissecting every thought and tearing you apart to find what she wants.

“i think about you all the time.”

it’s short but effective. emily’s heart skips a beat and so does yours, the gap between your bodies lessening.

“getting on the court with you again was so amazing and for that reason alone i’m happy to be here. i left louisville because i couldn’t do it without you. and i spent, oh my god, so many nights regretting my decision. i miss you emily. i’ve missed you for two years.”

neither of you have any words left as she surges toward you, pulling your body into hers. your lips meet in a passionate kiss to make up for lost time, finding peace within one another. emily holds the back of your head to press you as close as possible because she fears you’ll slip away again if she doesn’t. she finally has you back, nothing is taking that away from her.

you’re the first to pull away, placing your forehead against her own. your noses rest side by side, lips touching and fingers tangled in hair as you both pant from loss of breath. you’re so relieved that you’re almost convinced it can’t be real.

there’s no negative feelings plaguing either of you anymore, finally feeling complete.

the rest of the night is spent with tangled limbs and gentle kisses to pass the time. she never leaves your embrace and you don’t leave hers, feeling content right where you are.

you can finally wave goodbye to the end of your beginning with emily, ready to move into the next chapter with her.

ʚɞ✧˖ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

thank you @astroph1les for literally giving me all the motivation to do this

i hope no one forgot about pt.1 i know it’s been a minute 😬😬😬🤗

not spell checked yet but it will be later!!

pls enjoy!!!!!!!

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fayes-fics · 1 day

Text

Vibe & Vexation

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader, Modern AU w/ Regency roleplay

Summary: Watching Pride & Prejudice evokes playtime in Benedict.

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors DNI, established couple, Regency era sexual roleplay, teasing, remote vibrator, dirty talk, female orgasm, brief vaginal sex. Also features lake!Darcy!Benedict, anachronistic costumes (just like the real show this season tbh) and absolutely unacceptable use of Jane Austen.

Word count: 2.4k

Authors Note: Yes, the title is a terrible play on Pride & Prejudice. Listen, I don't know what this is either, and I'm posting before I lose my nerve after 3 weeks of writer's block. This is dedicated to @godofstory whose casual comment on one of my fics finally dislodged my brain block. This is modern Benedict roleplaying Regency. Also thanks to @colettebronte for reading through, being kind and saying I haven’t lost my mind. Well, not completely. Err, enjoy? <3

“Ben, don't be silly…”

“Are you suggesting that I wouldn't look dashing in a frilly shirt and snug trousers?” he teases, raising his head from your belly and twisting to look at you, his eyes twinkling with a mischievous glint as the credits roll on the Austen film you've been idly watching on a rainy Sunday.

“No, I'm not saying that,” you chuckle, your fingers touselling his hair. “You look good in everything and nothing…” you tease, enjoying the prideful swell of his chest at your compliment. “But I'm not in the mood to track down Regency outfits for a little sexy role play.”

“Leave the details to me, my love.” He waves a dismissive hand as he flips over and begins to crawl over you. “I will be your Mr Darcy….” he attests, lowering his voice to that rumble which always makes your belly flutter.

“But I don't have a lake in this flat,” you deadpan, perhaps not helpfully referencing a different adaptation, but too distracted to care, his crooked smile hovering right above you now.

“‘Tis a pity,” he agrees, quirking his lips, “but I shall think of something….” he winks before capturing your lips with his.

And, just like that, you forget all about the subject…

—

Two days later

“They didn't have any fusilli, so I got penne; I hope that's okay…” you call out as you enter your flat, dropping the heavy bag of shopping from your shoulder and flinging off your shoes, grateful to be out of them and home.

When there is no answer, you frown. When you texted on your way home, he sent back a list of supplies for dinner.

“Ben…?” you round the corner into the kitchen and realise it's empty, nothing cooking on the hob. “You're not even cooking….?” you raise your arms in a shrugging gesture, nonplussed, apparently talking to yourself in what appears to be an empty flat.

“Ms Bennet….”

His voice rings out resonant, a teasing lilt that has you spinning around. And almost toppling over.

There, in the doorway to your bathroom, is Benedict…. dressed up as a Regency gentleman.

Well, partially dressed. And what he is dressed in is damp and clinging to his skin in a way that gives away absolutely everything about why you cannot resist him. Broad shoulders and a tapered torso, completely visible through the most transparent white frilled shirt you could ever imagine. Snug blue trousers that, again, give everything away. He must have hopped into the shower to achieve this effect, his clothing virtually painted upon his skin.

You literally bite the edge of your tongue.

“Mr Darcy….” you stumble, incapable of any other words, mouth falling open as he saunters towards you with a confident gait, his trousers straining over his thighs as he does so.

“My eyes are up here, Ms Bennet…” he teases as yours ping guiltily to his face, knowing you are being entirely called out for your ogling.

“What if your eyes are the very last thing I am interested in, Mr Darcy?” you finally find your voice, stepping into the role of a feisty, historic heroine you enjoy so much.

“The eyes are the window to the soul…” he tilts his head challengingly, raising an eyebrow.

“That’s Shakespeare, not Austen,” you shoot back pointedly.

“All the world are good and agreeable in your eyes,” he corrects, indeed a quote from Pride and Prejudice. He has obviously been revising—something about that is as adorable as it is arousing.

“You don't fight fair…” you whisper as he closes in on you with a handsome smirk, but it hardly feels like defeat as his long fingers spider up your jacket buttons, the warm fug of his clothes amplifying the mouthwatering scent he wears under them.

“All is fair in love and war,” he counters, sliding nearer, his lips warm on your temple now as he flicks open your topmost button.

“Are you going to talk in literary quotes all night?”

Your ask is much breathier than you intend, very much not a protest about what is transpiring—a tingle down your sternum where his fingers trail over your skin down to the next button. You feel the curve of his cheek against your face from his responding smile.

“I might stop,” he proposes airily. ”But perhaps only to tease you until you pass out…”

“How?”

The question falls from you unbidden, curiosity seizing your lips.

“With the help of things poor Mr Darcy never had access to…” he offers enigmatically. “But for now, how about you go change into your outfit, Ms Bennet?”

“I have an outfit too?” your breath catching at the idea he has planned a whole scenario.

“Oh yes, ‘tis hanging in your room, fair lady,” he mutters, taking a half pace back. But before you go, he grabs your hand, raising it to his mouth and dropping a kiss that is anything but chaste—wet, plush lips with a slight edge of teeth dragging over your knuckles as his hot tongue lathes between your fingers lasciviously.

—

“I'm not sure this is quite Regency accurate…” you assert as you swan back into the living room a few minutes later, even as there is a frisson over your skin at the very sexy outfit he has chosen.

“Perhaps not,” he concedes, his eyes lingering on the pronounced swell of your breasts as you sashay closer. “But yet, I cannot fault my choice.”

“More Marquis de Sade than Jane Austen…” you opine, revelling in his stare, the time spent fastening each hook and eye down the front of the ivory corset worth it for that hungry look and the nascent swelling you see in his clinging trousers. The silk, frilled French knickers he picked out are new, which you are grateful for, but they match perfectly. There was an odd weight to them as you pulled them on, though, but you did not spend much time contemplating it, so keen to get back to the scene.

“Ms Bennet, how dare you turn up to my home so scandalously dressed when I am entertaining company?” he admonishes, his tone suddenly brusque, stepping fully into his roleplay, gesturing to the empty kitchen area as if it were filled with guests.

“Mr Darcy, I can only apologise. I thought you were away on business,” you improvise, clutching your hands over your body in a futile attempt to conceal your state of undress, acting horrified to be caught.

“Do you make a habit of trespassing in my home and flouncing around so slatternly?” he snaps tersely, his eyes flashing approvingly.

You know the question is rhetorical, so you just hang your head, biting your lip, playing at being ashamed and chastised for being so wanton in the home of the man you desire. This is nothing like anything in Pride and Prejudice, but you could not give less of a damn, a flutter low in your gut that this could go somewhere utterly delicious.

“I must insist you desist,” he continues imperiously. “This must never happen again! Now go to my private quarters and think upon what you have done!” he concludes, pointing to the sofa.

“Yes, Mr Darcy,” you nod and curtsy with faux demureness, which he seems to greatly enjoy based on the flash in his eyes, seemingly even more so when you break character and poke out your tongue insolently as you pass.

You take a seat on the sofa and watch, initially confused, as Benedict remains in the kitchen area, play-acting as if he is chatting to guests, supping from a wine glass and gesturing. Puzzled, you watch as he reaches for his phone casually and flicks something on the screen, his back still turned to you.

There is a sudden, sharp buzz in your underwear that steals your breath, your legs tensing, your feet kicking out reflexively, sliding your clit heavier against the vibration.

Oh fuck.

That’s why the underwear felt oddly weighted. He must have snuck a thin remote vibe pad into the lining.

He makes a half-turn and smirks over his shoulder as you pant and stare at the play of his back muscles under his translucent shirt, your fingers clawing into the sofa at the sudden not-at-all-gentle onslaught.

“Ms Bennet, are you quite well?” he calls out, a triumphant look claiming his face. “You appear somewhat flushed.”

“Mr Darcy, I find myself in a most perplexing dilemma,” you grit out between clenched teeth, impressed you can even form words. The vibe is a persistent thrum that you attempt to tilt yourself away from slightly but seem unable, always there, dragging against you in a way that makes you writhe, your back arching.

He spins around to face you entirely now, putting down his wine glass, phone casual in the other hand, thumb hovering portentously over the screen with a gleeful mien.

“What troubles you, Ms Bennet?”

His lilt is teasing and velvet, humming in your bones as much as the toy. The vibration suddenly ceases, and you collapse back into the sofa, panting mildly, the corset restricting your ability to take the gulps of air you need, your chest heaving, unable to do anything but stare slack-jawed at him.

“Have you quite forgotten your words, Ms Bennet? I thought you a creature of learning…” he needles, the painted-on regency garb he wears just more temptation, his cock straining against the wool now. He makes no move to draw closer, but he does flick open the buttons around his wrists and roll up his sleeves, his toned forearms flexing as he does so.

“I am a woman of learning,” you defend after a pause, “but I find myself rather disadvantaged tonight. I suspect deception…” You narrow your eyes at him.

He throws his head back and laughs, his Adam's apple bobbing prominently as he does so. It makes you want to pitch forward and bite it.

“Whoever would deceive such a fine woman as you?” he fires back as he tilts back down. You cry out as his thumb yet again swipes over his screen, and your underwear roars back to life—this time a softer pulsing wave, but no less titillating, an inflaming tease that staccatos against your engorged flesh.

“You might, Mr Darcy…” you accuse, but it's lighthearted at best, a toothless threat as all of your efforts are focussed on the fizzing pleasure radiating out into your pelvis.

“On the contrary, Ms Bennet. In vain have I struggled…” he begins.

That speech.

“It will not do….” he adds, shaking his head for good measure as he flicks open the buttons upon his soaked shirt, your eyes tracking the movement as each new slice of damp, heated skin is revealed in the soft, low lamplight.

“My feelings will not be repressed…”

He peels the sodden shirt from his form, and you moan as that honed body is revealed to you, glistening slightly. The vibe is a roiling wave against your clit that makes your pussy clench around nothing, wishing to be filled.

“You must allow me….” he pauses and lopsidedly grins as he roughly tugs upon the buttons of his trousers, a teasing striptease that has you spiralling fast, leaking copiously into your knickers now.

“Allow you what…?” you throw in, huffing against the restriction of the corset, something about its tight hold escalating your addled state, moaning as he drops the last vestige of his clothing, his cock springing free. His whole being glowing with pride in how much he can affect you.

“To tell you how ardently I admire and love you….” he concludes, his voice dark and smooth, settling over your skin like warm molasses as he finally prowls towards you.

You want to pitch forward and nuzzle your face into his cock. But he dips down as he approaches, pushing your legs far apart with his hands and falling to his knees, burying his face into your cleavage. He suckles vehemently on the swell of your chest, lathing his tongue over your flushed skin as you fight to gasp in enough air, the vibe and his lush mouth hurtling you fast towards oblivion, his hands a firm grip on your hips.

“I love you too, Mr Darcy,” you gulp in delayed response. “But, please release me from this torture…” you append weakly, needing reprieve from the prolonged hold.

“Is it not the sweetest torture, though?” he argues back as his nose trails up your clavicle to your neck, his mouth earnest upon a spot that always makes you pliant. “I want to see you struggle, my love, bound in my corset, sat upon my vibe, teased and vexed until you can take no more….” his words are a sinful soliloquy gusting almost wistfully into your ear, your lobe snagged under his teeth.

“Take pity upon me, please; I am distressed,” you appeal, feeling a slight wooziness as you circle a chasm of pleasure that licks teasingly at your edges.

“You are beautiful,” he counters, a firm hand cupping the back of your head and puppets you to stare into his blown pupils, his rigid cock trailing a sticky line over your thigh as he rumbles more debauched. “Now come for me, Ms Bennet, and then I shall have you…”

You screw your eyes shut just as he flicks to a higher setting on the vibe and can no longer fight or struggle, letting your body break, febrile, a dew on your back as it arches, you screaming to the ceiling as you are thrown into the stars and the earth at the same time, torn in a hundred directions by the intense pulse radiating out from your core and fanning across your whole body, every muscle tensing and releasing in a sudden wave.

Hazily, you hear his jubilant praises ringing in your ears, but it feels far away even as his hands and mouth are hot and heavy on your skin, ripping the corset and knickers from your body with a vehemence that would shock you were you in less of a euphoric, altered state. He pulled you bodily to the edge of the sofa, teasing his cock against your throbbing clit, making you groan and paw at him, the need rising again as you return to your surroundings.

“You have bewitched me body and soul,” he pants as he slides into your body, a surging insistence that has your fingernail curling into the sinew on his forearms, your toes curling around the fuzzy meat of his thighs. “I never wish to be parted from you for a second. I love you..,” his tone rough, broken, stuttering as he bottoms out inside you, quoting the film you watched together the other night before taking you urgently towards another blissful peak.

Benedict taglist pt1: @makaylan @longingintheuniverse @iboopedyournose @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @m-rae23 @last-sheep @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kmc1989 @desert-fern @corpseoftrees-queen @magical-spit @bunnyweasley23 @how-many-stars-in-the-sky @sya-skies

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annewithaneofthegreengable · 17 hours

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Hearts in Sync, Tires on Track

I'm sorry I have hit the deleted button 😢 and so I have to repost this one. This was based on a request of a reader @pear-1206, so sorry that your request message was also being deleted.

But yeah, here it is. Hope that you guys will enjoy reading it as much as I did. Also, if you have any requests please feel free to hit my dm, I appreciate it very much. If not then send me some of your love and support through that reblog and like button. Love ya alllll! 🫶🏻

Toto Wolff's wife and son, Y/n and Jack were in the garage, watching the race with bated breath. The atmosphere was tense, as nothing seemed to be working for George and Lewis. Toto's wife watched her husband's face, noticing the way his jaw was clenched, the deep furrow between his brows. She knew how much he was struggling, trying to figure out a way to turn things around for the team. Her heart ached for him, wanting nothing more than to ease his worries.

As the race continued, the tension in the garage grew thicker. She and Jack glued to his side, watching him anxiously. Toto's eyes flicked back and forth between the monitors, his fingers flying across his laptop as he tried to find a solution, anything that could help the team's chances. Toto's mind was a maelstrom of thoughts and strategies. His eyes scanned the monitors, searching for any glimpse of improvement from his drivers. As he pondered the various scenarios, his hand subconsciously went to his own wedding band, his fingers toying with it gently. Meanwhile, in the garage, Y/n sat with Jack, trying to keep a brave face despite her worry. She was struggling to keep her own anxiety in check, her mind constantly going back to her husband. Every now and then, she found herself twisting her wedding band around her finger, a silent prayer for his wellbeing.

The race was over, but the results had not been what he had hoped for. His heart was heavy with disappointment, and his mind raced with thoughts of what he could have done differently. Suddenly, there was a soft knock on his door, and he looked up to see his wife standing in the doorway. Her face was filled with concern, her eyes filled with a mixture of worry and love.

Toto's heart skipped a beat as he saw her. In that moment, all his worries and stress seemed to melt away, at least for a moment. He held out his hand, a silent invitation for her to come closer. She walked over to him, taking his hand and sitting down on the edge of his desk. For a moment, they were silent, simply taking comfort in each other's presence. Finally, Toto broke the silence. "It didn't go well," he said quietly, his voice low and strained.

Y/n nodded, her fingers gently rubbing small circles on the back of his hand. "I know," she murmured softly. "But you did everything you could. You always do." Toto let out a weary sigh, his shoulders slumping. "It wasn't enough," he replied. "I should have done more, I should have thought of something..." His wife reached up, gently cupping his face in her hands. "Stop," she said firmly. "You shouldn't blame yourself. You work too hard, you worry too much. You need to let go sometimes." Toto looked up at her, his expression a mix of exhaustion and guilt. "I can't," he said quietly. "I'm responsible for this team, for everyone who is now working at Brackley also. If I don't worry, who will?"

His wife chuckled softly, her thumbs stroking his cheeks fondly. "That's exactly what I mean," she said with a smile. "You're too dedicated, too determined. You forget to take care of yourself." Toto let out a huff of breath, his lips twitching into a small smile. "And who's going to take care of me, hm?" he teased, a hint of the old spark returning to his eyes.

Y/n raised an eyebrow, an amused grin tugging at the corners of her mouth. "Who do you think? Me," she replied, her tone playful. "Someone has to keep you from working yourself into the ground." Toto chuckled, the sound low and heartfelt. "You did a good job of it," he admitted.

As they were all laughing at his words, Toto's door creaked open, and they both looked up to see their son, Jack, standing in the doorway. The young boy's face was pinched with worry, his eyes taking in the sombre atmosphere of the room. "Papa?" he asked tentatively, his small voice breaking the silence. Toto's heart clenched at the sight of his son. "Hey, buddy," he said, mustering a smile. "Come here."

Jack hesitantly stepped into the room, his eyes flicking between his parents. Toto reached out a hand, gesturing for him to come closer. "Don't worry, everything's alright," Toto said, trying to keep his voice steady for his son's sake. "Just having a bit of a tough day, that's all." Jack slowly made his way over to them, stopping beside his father. He wrapped an arm around his shoulders, pulling him close. "We'll figure things out," he assured him, his voice gentle.

Y/n nodded in agreement, her fingers once again toying with her wedding band. "Papa's right," she said firmly. "We always figure things out. We're a team, remember?" Jack looked up at his dad, his eyes wide. "Us?" he asked, his voice small. Toto chuckled softly, reaching out to ruffle his son's hair. "Yeah, me, mama and you. We've been a team for a long time, haven't we?"

Jack seemed to accept this, his expression relaxing slightly. He leaned into his mother's side, resting his head against her shoulder. For a moment, they sat in silence, the weight of everything that had happened that day hanging heavily in the air. Toto could feel the presence of his family, their love and support grounding him, reminding him that he wasn't alone.

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turcott3 · 1 day

Note

listen here my concept on matt was being a good friend of his and you've never experimented or did really anything much with guys before so you nervously but boldly approach him and ask if you could practice giving him head and he guides you through it step by step .......... bye i had to.

21st

matt rempe x fem! reader

warnings?: cursing, wine, oral sex male receiving, kissing

masterlist

you and matt sat distant on the long sectional long after everyone had left your 21st birthday celebration. you’d been best friends with the boy as long as you could remember so you asked if he would stay the night with you like old times.

“this wine is actually really good.” matt says breaking the silence.

“yeah it is, that’s why i bought it.” you smirk.

“now y/n, how did you buy this wine last week? just a question.

“well let’s just say the ‘how’ is cut up in my garbage right now.” you giggle, cracking a smile.

“you sneaky sneaky girl.” you points at you.

“as always.” you giggle, downing the rest of your glass. the thing about wine that differed from the other things you drank is that it makes you honest. you were barely even buzzed, but wine brought out the honesty in you.

“wow it’s so crazy, i’m 21 and i still haven’t even actually hooked up with a guy.” you scoff.

“you’re not a virgin though? i’m confused.” he adds.

“well i guess the better word would be properly. he stuck it in, nut, and then left.”

“wow.”

“did i really never tell you that?” you ask, sitting up on the couch and setting your glass on the coffee table.

“no?” he replies giggling, doing the same.

“it’s kind of embarrassing.” you reply as he gets up and sits closer to you on the couch.

“why’s it embarrassing?”

“it just is. i don’t wanna be 21 and completely unexperienced.” you say as silence rung out in your living room.

“hey matt?” you ask, breaking the silence.

“yeah.”

“can you….. teach me some….. stuff?” you asked practically in a whisper, a blush burning on your cheeks as you stared at the floor.

“teach you what?” he replies, using his fingers to guide your gaze back to his.

“i don’t know, i just-“

“yes i can y/n, i was messing with you.” he giggles.

“oh okay.” you reply, the blush burning darker.

“don’t be shy now y/n, you can trust me.” he says brushing your hair behind your shoulders.

“i know i can trust you matt, i’m just nervous.” you reply picking at the skin of your nails.

“would you feel more comfortable if we went to your room?” he asks softly, running a soft hand up your thigh. you only nod in response as the tall boy stands up in front of you.

“come here.” he mutters as you reach for him. he picks you up, your legs latching around his waist as he carries you to your bedroom. carefully, he shuts your door behind you and stops in his tracks.

“look at me pretty girl.” he says, doing as you’re told you pick your head up off his shoulder and lock eyes with him, a smile spreading across his face before locking his lips with yours gently and respectfully. you moved your hands to grab onto his face, begging to deepen the kiss. you had never imagined you’d be in this position with your lifelong best friend but at the same time it felt so familiar to you. you felt safe in his embrace and absorbed the love from his affection deeply. regretfully, he breaks apart the kiss, setting you down carefully on the bed. you sat up on your knees and looked up at the brunette who looked down on you with a soft gaze in his eyes.

“now what is it you want me to teach you exactly?” he asks, squatting down to your level, his hand placed gently on top of your hand that rested on your thigh.

“oh um, anything. i really don’t mind.” you reply shyly.

“do you feel comfortable getting undressed for me or is that not okay?” he asks.

“i think im comfortable.”

“okay just take off some layers until you want to stop, is that okay?” he asks gently and you nod, removing your shirt revealing the black lace bra you’d bought yourself for your last birthday. you notice matt also removing his shirt.

“matt you don’t have t-“

“yes i do. it’s only fair. if you’re gonna be vulnerable, so am i.”

“okay.” you reply, blushing as you shimmied out of your jean shorts, him removing his jeans and tossing them to the side.

“i think this is good.” you say, very aware of your bareness.

“okay.” he says as you look back up at him.

“do i look okay?” you ask with a gleam in your eye.

“gorgeous.” he smiles, bending over and reconnecting your lips softly for a few moments.

“okay, i’m gonna teach you how to give head, that alright?” he asks and you nod eagerly. now that you’d seen him in this light, you didn’t think you’d ever be able to see him another way, and that didn’t bother you.

slowly, he pushed the waistband of his boxers down, revealing his soft cock. at first glance he was already big and that made you nervous as to what was to come.

“give me your hand.” he asks quietly and you do so. gently, he wraps your hand around his length.

“okay, now carefully but not too carefully, jerk me off.” he says and you do so, pumping your hand slowly up and down his cock. his hand wrapped back around yours moving you a little bit faster before letting go. you keep the speed and feel the blood begin to rush to his length. he thickened in your hand quickly as he muttered and mumbled words you couldn’t make out above you.

“you’re doing so good y/n.” he says.

“you’re so big matt.” you say before looking up at him with a smirk on his face.

“give me your hand.” he requests and you do so, removing your hand from his dick and holding it up to him. slightly, he bends over and spits a puddle of saliva into your hand.

“now do that again.” he continues and you do so, working the liquid into the skin of his swollen cock.

“good girl.” he mutters, a blush creeping into your cheeks once again.

“okay, are you ready babygirl?” he asks, using two fingers to tilt your chin upward to him.

“yes.” you reply lowly.

“i’ll start easy on you, open your mouth a little bit and stick out your tongue a bit as well.” he says and you do so, earning a nod of approval from the brunette.

“now take me into your hand, and put the tip onto your tongue.” he says and you do as your told, placing his wet, pink tip onto your tongue.

“now if you want you can brush your tongue along the underside of my tip,” he says and you begin to do so, “yeah just like th- fuck, it’s so-“

“sensitive.” you smirk, taking him away from your mouth for a moment.

“yeah, that.” he replies as your put it right back wear it was.

“now you can kind of take your tongue where ever you like, you can move all the way down to the base or you can circle the tip, whatever feels comfortable to you.” he says and you act upon his words, dragging your wet, warm tongue down his shaft to the base of his cock. you moved your way back up, circling the tip just like you’d been told.

“is this okay?” he asks, holding your hair in a ponytail.

“mhm.” is all you reply as you work your tongue magic on his thick cock.

“now, if you’re ready, you’re gonna protect your teeth with your lips and start to take some of the shaft into your mouth.” he says and you do so, making an ‘o’ shape with your mouth you take some of him into your mouth, continuing to pay close attention to detail with your tongue.

“yes just like that.” he grunts as you make it just less than half way down his shaft before you begin to feel your gag reflex. quickly, you take him out of your mouth and look up at him.

“am i doing okay?”

“you are doing perfectly, is something wrong?”

“no, just don’t know how much i can take.” you sigh, avoiding a giggle,

“try to take a little more for me baby.” he asks and you nod, carefully taking him back into your mouth, pushing more of his cock in. you make it a moment further before gagging and pulling him out, spit webbing from your lips.

“god, i’m so close im sorry.” you sigh out.

“don’t apologize, here, hold onto your thumb like this, it’s shuts off your gag reflex.” he says and you copy his hand. using your free hand, you take his cock back into your mouth, your other hand gripping mercilessly onto your thumb, praying that maybe you could impress him. much to your surprise, you took him with ease, his happy trail tickling your nose as he bottomed out in your throat. you pulled him out with a pop, breathing heavily to get air back, not realizing you’d been holding your breath.

“that was so good baby, do you wanna try bobbing your head?” he asks and you do so, trying to mimic the same rhythm you used with your hand, your tongue tracing the bottom of his thick shaft.

“god you’re amazing.” he groans as his grip on your hair grows tighter, not pressuring you to move any other way. you continued this seemingly perfect routine, his moans and grunts growing closer together, his cock swelling even more. you could tell he was about to bust, as much as he didn’t want this night to end.

“oh fuck i’m gonna cum y/n.” he says lowly as you take him all the way, his warm, milky climax spurting down your throat, you pulled him out slightly, allowing him to finish on your tongue before you impressively, swallow his nut.

“you’re a fucking natural.” he scoffs, a smile spreading across his face as you wiped your lips from the mixture of saliva and cum.

“really?”

“god yes.” he says, tackling you to your bed pressing sweet kisses all over your face.

“so, can we do this again sometime?” you ask, face inches away from him.

“oh yeah? what’s our next lesson?” he replies.

“what about that, but on me?” you smirk.

“so the next one is you grading me?” he giggles.

“duh.” you reply, “or maybe we can call it the final, and we can go all the way?” you continue and he hugs you to his chest tightly.

“are you sure?”

“yes matt, i trust you. god you’re amazing.”

“i just can’t wait to show you the good sex you actually deserve. i in fact will not, stick it in, nut and then leave.” he laughs.

“well id hope not, better live up to the hype.”

“i won’t let you down.” he smirks reconnecting your lips.

“we never specified when this next ‘lesson’ was.” he sighs.

“soon. very soon.” you reply.

it was moments later that the two of you got cozy, deciding that maybe you should sleep together in the bed instead of a few feet apart on a sectional in your living room. and maybe you shouldve done this way sooner than your 21st birthday party.

#matt rempe #matt rempe smut #matt rempe imagine #matt rempe x reader #nhl #nhl imagine #new york rangers #turcs’ talk

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januaryembrs · 18 hours

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SWEET AND RIGHT AND MERCIFUL | Spencer Reid x Sunshine!Reader

request: my DARLING @avis-writeshq says: OMGGGG EM CONGRATS ON 3K !!! soooo deserved and i’m so so happy for you!!! please may i request tea for sunshine!reader 🥹🩷 maybe the moment when she realises just how much she likes him (perhaps she was in heavy denial beforehand)? I LOVE YOU SO MUCH THANK YOUUUUU 🩷🩷🩷

description: The Sunshine rookie Spencer had heard so much about is the first one to make him laugh since he got out of prison.

length: 4.1k

warnings: Lucky Strikes episode, talks of humans eating humans, cm gore, blood, violence etc. UnSub gets creepy with reader. sex jokes, spitting water.

author's note: dedicated to @avis-writeshq because she is my GIRL when it comes to Spencer Reid x Sunshine brain rot, and also because she requested a Drabble for them but I couldn't stop writing and here we are with a full ficlet.

It had been three weeks, three painfully long weeks since Spencer Reid had returned to the BAU, nearly ten years since she’d seen him lecturing at Pennsylvania. He looked different, but then Emily had said quite literally on her second day that their endgame was getting him out of prison for a crime he didn’t commit, and it seemed only natural that being a fed in a foreign jail would knock someone around.

She’d been too nervous to speak to him on their first day working together, had stuck to Luke’s side like glue because he was closest in age to her and he didn’t seem to mind the way she could speak a hundred miles per hour. They had only really had any contact when she was chatting with Garcia in the kitchenette at lunch, when she was talking to the tech whizz about the crochet set she’d bought even though she couldn’t seem to wrap her head around the way everything bobbed and weaved and bobbed again, and how the woman on youtube seemed to make the tiny bumblebee seem so achievable while hers looked like a yellow turd.

He’d come up behind the two of them, his footsteps deadly silent despite the fact he had sneakers on, and she wouldn’t have even known he was there had Penelope not lit up with glee at seeing Reid poking around their office again.

“Coffee, honey?” Penelope asked, looking over the girl’s shoulder, and it was only when he murmured a ‘mhm’ that the rookie noticed he’d crept up behind her, leaning over to grab his mug from the cupboard, and she hopped to the side immediately.

“S-sorry, just shove me out the way next time, my mom says I have zero spacial awareness.” She said with a nervous laugh, and he didn’t seem to care as he granted her a small glance, pushing the button on the coffee machine and clunking his mug beneath the tap.

“Have you met our newbie, Spence?” Penelope asked, friendly as ever even though the women caught the way his jaw seemed to feather with clenched muscle, like he was holding himself back from snapping, and his eyes were tired as he looked over at Garcia, barely flicking his gaze to the new face despite her prompt, “This is Y/N, she’s joined us from cold cases,”

“Hi,” The woman chirped with a quick wave, despite the fact he was stood only a foot away from her, “It’s nice to meet you after everyone’s spoken so highly about you, Penny said you like invented the term genius,”

Spencer pursed his lips, trying not to make a backhanded comment about how dumb that sounded because of course he didn’t invent it, of course it was coined in the mid seventeenth century from the latin gignere to mean ‘exceptional natural ability’, and the last time he checked he wasn’t even born then. But he stopped himself, because she was just being nice, and it wasn’t her fault that he hadn’t been sleeping or that he couldn’t eat dinner without waiting to hear a buzzer go off to let him know when it was meal time, and it certainly wasn’t her fault that she was just a few decibels too loud with her cheerful tone and smile that he could hear in every syllable.

So he just gave her an awkward smile, and an acknowledging nod, the whir of effort from the coffee machine slowing down as his drink finished pouring, and he grabbed his mug, not even caring that the ceramic scolded his fingertips because he’d felt so much worse before and gotten through it.

“I’ll catch up with you later,” He said coldly, not returning the sentiment, and he’d turned before he could see the way her smile dropped, her brows creasing in worry as she watched him head back towards his desk.

“Did I say something wrong?” She asked with a small voice, and Penelope wrapped an arm around her shoulder giving her a kind squeeze and a sad smile.

“It’s not you, sweetie, he’s just-” Garcia swallowed, her own pout growing over her red painted lips, “He’s not like the Reid we used to know, he’s struggling,”

And so she nodded, chewing at the inside of her cheek with a frown. It felt silly to have her feelings hurt, except she’d been thinking about the day two agents from the BAU came to give her sociology class a talk on geographical and societal factors compelling crime, how she’d headed straight to her tutor that evening to swap her major to criminology. Because she’d hung on every word Agent Hotch and Agent Reid had said, which definitely had nothing to do with the fact the younger of the two was so dreamy in his glasses and tweed jacket.

She’d been excited to meet him again after nearly ten years, maybe even thank him for changing the trajectory of her entire life. He was still handsome, and despite the fact she’d grown up since then, had only thought about him as that hot guy who gave a lecture in her class that one time, she still had felt that silly fluttering feeling in her chest the second she saw him talking with Emily in her office the morning he got back.

And he’d look at her like she was a girl scout selling cookies; a passing face, a summer temp, no one worth getting to know.

She pretended like she wasn’t the slightest bit disappointed, he’d been to prison for god sake. The guy had bigger problems than a little nobody girl from another department.

Things weren’t much better the day they got the case.

“You might want to cover your eyes for this bit, my little sugar plum,” Penelope said, looking at the rookie with soft eyes, and Emily smiled at her gently, knowing the girl had a bit of an innocent streak, not completely unlike Penny when she’d started the job.

“Why? I’m sure it’s nothing-” She cut herself off when Penelope clicked onto the next page, and the image of a woman who could only be described as utterly butchered flicked onto the screen in full size, “Oh,”

“Oh, indeed, rookie,” Rossi said with a wince, looking at the mulch of blood and muscle where her legs had been removed, and her fingers severed clean off as if with a carving knife.

Luke looked up at the girl, where she’d gone a little peaky, and he patted her back gently, sliding his bottle of water over to her without a word.

“All the telltale signs are here,” JJ said on a sighed breath, images of the rest of the crime scene flicking up on the screen.

“Pentagram, legs and fingers gone,” Rossi agreed, Luke and Matt looking between the team with a questioning glance, as she downed a sip of the water.

“There’s even one neat aspect right here,” Emily said, the tip of her finger pointing to one of the pictures of the floor outside the bathroom stall where the body was found, “Her earrings and jewellery are laid out equidistant on the floor,”

“Sure as hell looks like him,” Rossi said, and she cleared her throat, looking to the older man on her left.

“Like who?” She asked, her eyes snapping to Spencer who opened his mouth to speak, which seemed to be the only time he ever did bother making conversation; when there was a body on their hands.

“Floyd Feylnn Ferrell,” He said, as if the original case had only been wrapped up last week, but then with his memory she wasn’t exactly surprised, “A psychotic cannibal who’d been killing under the radar for years,”

“He killed ten prostitutes and then moved up to low risk victims,” Prentiss added, the rookie’s eyes wide. It wasn’t anything she’d never heard of, but it never made it easier knowing something even worse was coming after the murders.

“He kept slipping through the cracks and avoiding justice so people referred to him as ‘Lucky’” JJ said, her eyes darting over the crime scene photos that seemed to take her back ten years to when they’d seen almost an identical set of photos, like Hotch was about to call ‘Wheels up in twenty’ any minute now.

Rossi sighed, looking at the younger girl who watched him wide eyed, “Have you eaten today, rookie?”

She shook her head dumbly, “Why?”

“Because the worst of it was he owned a barbeque joint,” Her face dropped even more, if that was even possible, “And he fed one of the victims to the search party,”

Her hand flew to her mouth, blinking at the seasoned agent in terror, because that was something she hadn’t ever thought would enter someone’s mind until she heard it. As simple as it sounded, for someone who had seen cases going back twenty, thirty years, some particularly heinous in nature, there were new lengths she didn’t realise a human could ever go to, let alone would.

Penelope stopped, shutting her laptop lid and glancing at JJ in a plea for help, as the thought of what had happened after the Flynn case rushed to the front of her mind, when the guy she’d thought wanted to take her out on a date shot her.

“I have a computer…” The blonde trailed off, heading for the door to the office room with a dazed look in her eyes, and the rookie watched her leave, her neck and palms clammy as she thought about what Rossi had just said.

“I think I have a computer too-” She rushed, and she bolted from her seat before she could think of anything else, dashing after the technical analyst because she feared she was going to throw up if she didn’t get a breath of fresh air.

Spencer watched her hair swish as she scurried out the room, and he wondered how long she would last if she couldn’t stomach just a few photos. He had struggled with the gore at first, sure, but he’d never ran. Maybe he was being cruel, but he couldn’t say that a girl like her exactly fit the part of an FBI agent, she seemed… pure, like driven snow, and if anything he’d hate for the bloodied parts of their job to stain a girl so squeaky clean.

Emily nudged his shoulder, nodding towards her retreating figure when he looked up at her questioningly, “You keep an eye on her in this case. She’s still learning,”

And Spencer grit his teeth, because he hated the idea of babysitting when he had a dozen of his own problems, but he nodded indignantly.

He just hoped she didn’t make things too hard for him.

–

The door swung open behind Lori Flynn, the UnSub’s sister, the midday Florida heat boring down on her back, Spencer bristling at her right as Luke pocketed his badge.

And then there he was. The guy from the photo, his thick, wiry glasses exact matches to the ones he’d been wearing the day he got caught, though she supposed a mental facility didn’t exactly have funds for replacements.

“It’s no problem, Lori, I’ll speak with them,” His voice was a strong southern twang, and almost chillingly calm. His sister looked over her shoulder at him, the woman fretful as she glanced between the four agents, ten years of troubles on her shoulders. She sighed, running a hand over her neck nervously and headed back inside to be with her son, leaving them alone with their suspect on the doorstep, “You’ll have to wait, I’m on my way to church. It’s right around the corner so I’m within the thousand permitted yards from the monitoring station,”

He quickly glanced at where Matt and Luke stood behind her, the former with his arms crossed over his chest as he eyed up the thin, twiggly guy who looked like the type to live in his mother’s basement until he died, not the type to cannibalise and murder.

His eyes darted over to where Reid towered over him, familiarity flicking in his face as he looked at the agent, and he smiled slowly, like something out of a horror, the uncanny valley of a face so normal when she knew he was so sick somewhat terrifying to her. He fed one of the victims to the search party. She heard it rattling around her skull as she saw the whites of his teeth, and she imagined him ripping into her then and there, her hands shaking.

“Hey, I remember you. Where’s your friend, Agent Morgan?” Floyd said, and she felt Spencer tense up beside her, which she guessed meant it was a sore subject as she jumped into the conversation, her lips moving before she could think better of it. She’d always had a habit of talking too much when she was nervous, or to fill gaps, or when she could tell someone was uncomfortable, she’d always been told it was one of her more irksome traits.

“You wouldn’t mind if we took a look around, would you? Just while you’re gone?” She asked politely yet, for once, she regretted ever opening her mouth the second he turned his attention on her.

She felt something cold and dreadful run down her spine as he looked straight at her, his sepia eyes trailing down over her neck, running over her body and down to her hands that fidgeted at her sides.

They waited on baited breath, her stomach flipping with sickness as that manic smile drew even wider, trained solely on her, a thought privy only to himself somewhat amusing to him. She felt herself lean away without even meaning to, incidentally feeling Spencer’s arm bump into hers as she did, and the three men seemed to tense up as they watched Flynn smell the air, savouring every second of it, his eyes blown wide with something unreadable. Lustful yet starved, like he was on a four day fast standing next to an open roast.

“You’re awful pretty for an agent,” Floyd said, that drawling accent of his turning her stomach, and his eyes trailed down over her calves, and she cursed herself for wearing a midi skirt. But she hated jeans on her thighs, hated the way Florida air clung humidly to her skin when she didn’t let it breathe, but she thought she might just hate the way his mouth filled with saliva more, “Do you like running, agent?”

“Sometimes,” She whispered, shrinking in on herself even more as he took a step out of the home.

And Spencer felt his chest drop at the sound of it. She sounded petrified. But then, he would be too if someone his size looked at him like he was a five-course banquet. And he regretted ever thinking of her as babysitting, as defective, because she was clearly trying her best, and this was where it had gotten her. Right on the UnSub’s menu.

“I bet you do a lot of running, chasing after bad guys, huh?” Floyd pushed, leering towards her with another smell of her perfume, and she could have sworn his smile only widened into something cheshire cat-esque. She nodded with a worried gulp, her breath picking up when his hand began moving up to where a rogue stray hair fell out of her bun, running over her collar bone, her heart beating so wild and heavy beneath it.

And it was enough for Spencer to act, because within the blink of an eye, he’d side stepped in front of the rookie who seemed frozen in her spot, and Floyd’s arm was shoved away where it hit Spencer’s bicep. Flynn was forced to stop looking over her clammy skin with heavy swallows like he was imagining just how she would cut and marinate, and instead was confronted with a frown that could send any man scarpering, Spencer’s lips pressed into something furious, his shoulders seeming only more broad than they usually did when he purposely blocked Flynn’s view from her.

“You’d better get going, Floyd,” Spencer said, his voice a deadly sort of calm, and his arm stuck out behind him to keep her where she was as he spoke, “You’re going to be late for church,”

And Flynn listened, despite his smarmy smile as he dared a look at her when he passed by, despite the fact his eyes trailed back down to her jugular like he was ready to sever it there and then to string her up and cure.

Spencer’s hand fished around his pocket, glaring at the back of Floyd’s head as he strolled down the street, tossing the keys to Alvez, “Take her back to the car, don’t let her out of your sight,”

And the two of them listened while he and Matt swept the house, because anyone would be insane not to when Spencer looked so angry he could have put a hole through Flynn’s head without blinking an eye.

–

“Eating people, who eats people, what on earth is that all about,” She muttered, the four of them in the SUV heading back to the station. She sat at the front with Spencer where he drove because Luke and Matt were gentlemen and had offered her the extra leg room, and Spencer had zero qualms because he was under strict instruction to keep an eye on her.

She did that alot, he realised. Muttered when she was thinking about something. Where he went deadly silent when troubled, too focused on sorting through the mental files that seemed to be so resistant to organise these days, she was his entire opposite, always talking or humming a tune under her breath or playing an invisible set of piano notes on her knee, something to always keep the space filled.

He’d hated it the first few days, the sound like a blaring alarm coming from over by her desk, cutting through his limited attention span, grating on his nerves and making him have to bite his tongue to stop himself from yelling at her to shut the fuck up. But then, it wasn’t exactly personal to her, even the sound of the coffee machine had been enough to pull at his hair in frustration. At twelve years old, it spluttered and whirred and kicked back at every drink it made, every second of it winding Spencer’s patience up like a jack in the box.

But he found himself listening in on her mumbles, glancing over at how her frown screwed up her doe eyes, her lip pulling between her teeth whenever there was a tiny pause in between her words, before she started again. He’d quickly realised it was the easiest cheat in the book to know when something was bothering her, that she was so much of an open book, not at all cold and guarded like him or so many other profilers he knew, that he wouldn’t need to bother deducing her like she was his next UnSub to know what was wrong. She would just tell him as it was, wear everything vulnerable on her face.

“Something the matter?” He pressed, Luke also keeping a close watch on her from the back seat as she shook her head to herself, and her head snapped over to the driver’s side, her expression entirely caught even though she’d not exactly been subtle about her turmoil.

“M-me? “ She pointed to herself, and Spencer nodded, trying not to smile because sometimes she could be clueless, not the dumb kind but something sweet, naive, and he found himself somewhat jealous that she didn’t need to be the smartest person in the room to be worth something, she could just be herself, “Yeah, I guess I just,” She huffed, running her hands over her skirt, “I don’t get why anyone would want to eat someone else, it just-” She shivered, not in a theatrical or fake way but like a ghost had walked over her grave just thinking about Floyd smelling at her.

“Some cultures used to cannibalise other members of their society as funerary practices as early as twenty-four thousand years ago,” Spencer said, and she stopped fidgeting to listen to him, “There’s evidence that the Magdelanians in North Europe used to turn their dead’s skulls into cups they would then drink out of,”

“That I can understand, those guys were probably starving and it’s not like they can just chow down on a damn sabertooth as an easy lunch or something,” She said, and he bit his lip from stopping her to explain that the two of them were about four thousand years apart from one another, “But like, when there’s a burger king or taco bell on every corner, why are you eating women. Who eats women for breakfast lunch and dinner, like raise your hands which one of you would ever eat a woman,”

Luke sniggered, and Matt smirked at the innuendo of it, the double meaning of her words flying entirely over her head.

“I dunno, Alvez, do you like eating women?” Simmons asked, a smug grin in his words as the boys cackled childishly, and Spencer rolled his eyes with amusement.

“Pretty partial to it actually,” Luke chimed in, and she whirled in her seat to look behind her of scepticism, “How about you, Reid?”

“You guys are so weird,” She murmured, and Spencer took a quick glance off the road to see her looking entirely baffled, her feathers ruffled at the fact she was left out of the joke.

“They’re talking about oral sex,” He explained, because he remembered when that had been him for the longest time, and how it had made him feel like the butt of every punchline to not understand why everyone would smile at him knowingly, yet he found himself doing the exact same to her, his lips twitching at their corners.

Spencer watched her scoff, looking back at the two grown children in the back, “I take it back, you guys aren’t weird, your gross. Why can’t you be mature like Spencer?” She huffed, sitting back in her seat and fixing her skirt, “See if you were grownups like Agent Reid and I, you’d know the term isn’t eating a woman, it’s called focalratio,”

Matt pulled a face of confusion, flicking his eyes to her, “Isn’t that to do with a camera lens?”

“Do you mean fellatio?” Spencer asked, trying his hardest not to smirk because he didn’t want to make her feel stupid, except she just waved a hand at him.

“That’s what I said. I see why they call you Doctor Read and not Doctor Listen,” She giggled at her own words, watching the trees go by her passenger window, almost entirely oblivious to the way Spencer’s face cracked into a grin, something easy and charmed in his chest.

And for a moment, he saw exactly what Penelope had been talking about when she wouldn’t stop talking about how likeable she was and how it was harder to hate her than it was to love her.

Luke took a sip of his water, the bottle nearing the end as the Florida sun warmed it up, and he figured he might as well finish it before it became stagnant and undrinkable.

“Actually the term fellatio describes only male genitalia, the female equivalent would be cunnilingus-” Spencer explained, and he knew she was listening because he felt her eyes on the side of his face as he spoke, except he was cut off by the sound of her screaming so loud he nearly slammed on the breaks then and there.

“LUKE!” She yelled, and when Spencer looked, she had water dripping down the back of her hair, soaking her shirt to her skin, her black bra straps suddenly clear as day as they pressed against her dove white top. Alvez looked mortified, and he found himself apologising between coughs, water dribbling down his chin where he’d been so shocked to hear that word coming from Spencer’s mouth that he’d completely forgone swallowing and simply spat the whole thing out right through the gap between the headrest and the seat.

And Spencer laughed; it was quiet and foreign and nothing on the roaring cacophony coming from Matt in the back, as her and Luke descended into a squabble, her proclaiming him as a disgusting alpaca man as she tried to dry herself off with his jacket. But she caught it, the small chuckle coming from her left, and she looked at him, the sodden shirt almost forgotten when she saw him laugh.

She thought then that she wanted to make him laugh like that a million more times. And she knew she had it bad for Spencer Reid all over again.

#em’s inbox ᯓ★#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #matthew gray gubler x reader #sunshine!reader #post prison!spencer reid x reader

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merakiui · 1 day

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angel/angler.

yandere!azul ashengrotto x (female) reader cw: yandere, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, nsfw, stalking, non-con, non-consensual photography, chikan/groping (train molestation), obsession, kidnapping/captivity, drugging, violence, blood, death (or is it??), azul's insecurities and low self-esteem, azul’s not-so-subtle breeding kink, implied disordered eating, reader's height isn't described, but it's written that azul is taller note - to obsess is to hunger like an angler from the deep sea. living his entire life in pitch-black solitude, entranced by an angel's halo; his only purpose is to find the body that will become his lifeline and, one day, his cemetery.

entry 1: 18 April, 20XX.

For anonymity’s sake, I’ve chosen to write using a vague pronoun. Additionally, this diary will be a record of my thoughts so that I can keep my mind and senses intact. In my youth, I was prone to terrible fits of self-destructive rage, and as a result they suggested I write my feelings down to prevent any outbursts. I’m not very physical towards others. Rather, it was the harm I posed to myself that fostered concern.

But this space isn’t for my own views on myself. It’s about someone else.

I have a confession: I’ve fallen in love with you from the train, and I’ve been in love with you for the four months I’ve come to know you.

You wear perfectly pressed suits, heels of a modest height, tights, and pencil skirts that cut just at your knees. I want to touch you, but if I do you might stop wearing skirts altogether and then I’ll never see your legs again. I suppose trousers aren’t so unattractive. They’re appealing in their own right. Everything looks good on you, though. (Nothing would look even better.)

You work in an office building. I’m not sure which floor, but I’ll know soon enough. I wanted to follow you inside, but there’s a security guard in the lobby. He always greets you, and you always smile and chat with him. You’re a kind person, so I let this pass without incident. But I can’t lie to these pages and say it’s not troublesome when I watch his gaze linger longer than it needs to.

I’d kill him, but then they’d employ a new guard and you’d make friends with him because you’re so kind. I don’t admire kind people. Rather, I find kindness to be a double-edged blade (Is that the correct phrasing? It’s different in my hometown. We say kindness is like pufferfish—harmless until it’s provoked and then it becomes poisonous). It’s not that I look down on kind people. I just think you shouldn’t be so quick to befriend the world in its entirety.

After plenty of observation, I’ve learned that you often leave your building to get lunch by yourself. This is what you’ve eaten in the week:

Monday - A salad at a popular café. Iced tea because it was a sunny day. A tiny cheesecake for dessert. It was blueberry.

Tuesday - A wrap of some kind. Chicken? Or was it vegetarian? Sweet potato fries. Water.

Wednesday - You didn’t leave your building. Were you at work today?

Thursday - Another salad. Water. Same café. No tiny cheesecake.

Friday - You went to lunch with that guard. I only remember my irritation and so I’m afraid I can’t make note of your meal for today. He looks at you like an obsessed puppy waiting for its owner to give it attention. I want to pluck his eyes from his sockets so he’ll never look at you in that way again.

You lead a healthy lifestyle, but I can’t help wondering if you’re eating well. Did someone say something about your figure? I’ll eviscerate them for you and then they can see how much it hurts when unnecessary scrutiny is thrown around.

It’s quite late. I want to sleep, but thinking about you has my body wide-awake. I wonder if your mouth tastes like the moonlight shining in through my window. I wonder if your body is soft like mine… Of course it is. A silly, irrational thought. You’re much warmer than me. This is just a theory. I’ve yet to feel and confirm for myself. I will in the foreseeable future.

Before we part ways, I want you to know that I’m not very good at cooking. I’ve picked up a few books and hope to learn. I’m going to practice so that I can feed you better meals one day. Salads are the worst. Fried chicken is the true meal of heaven. I’m certain you would share this sentiment.

If I were to be condemned to a last meal like those serial killers on death row, I’d ask for fried chicken. Knowing you, you’re too good to kill anyone. In this hypothetical, supposing you’re a heinous criminal, your last meal would be something healthy. Do you even like those salads, or are you forcing yourself because you must? I understand calorie-counting well enough, but if there’s one thing to enjoy in life it should be food.

I suppose that makes me a hypocrite. I ought to take my own advice.

Oh. I’m starting to grip my pen with more force and the lines have become shaky. I usually break my writing utensils if my focus strays. I’ll stop here for today. Ink is a pain to clean.

AA.

The morning rush is your greatest enemy.

Jack Howl, the lobby’s security, has suggested giving you a ride on numerous occasions. “It’s part of the reason I got my license,” he explained once, “so that I can protect those who work in this building from the rush. Not like you have to accept my offer. It’s just…convenient for both of us. Again, I don’t care what you do.”

(He does. You see through his gruff surface.)

According to him, the morning and night rushes bring out the worst kinds of characters.

But isn’t that everywhere? you think as you peer out the window, watching the city come into clarity.

Like every morning, the train car is more crowded than a sardine tin. You’re used to being pressed up against other commuters, pinned to the window or between people. You’re flattered to know someone’s concerned, but nothing has happened yet. And why would it? It’s bright outside. No one would dare do something during the day. At least, not in a crowded area where anyone could see and hear.

I wonder what I should have for dinner. I still need to go shopping. My fridge is way too empty, you think, sighing. And I need to follow up with that one author. They’ve yet to get back to me about my edits. Perhaps we should meet in the office instead of through video call… And I also need to finalize that other style sheet after the last round of editing. And then another conference… There was something else. Was I scheduled to have lunch with an author? Or was that next week? I should check before—

The train shudders as it slides into the station. Someone brushes against you from behind. Their hand is pressed against the window just near your head. They steady themselves, their body so close to yours you can hear their staggered breathing.

“Ah. S-Sorry…”

It’s next week, right? I really should check once I get to my stop. This is going to eat me alive all day.

“Mhm,” you hum, waving dismissively.

The stranger standing behind you peels his hand away from the window. A sweaty palm print is left in its wake.

“We will be approaching the next stop shortly.”

Just one more and you’ll be getting off.

A pair of bright eyes blinks back at you in the reflection, watching the city just as you are.

entry 5: 22 April, 20XX.

I’m not a social person by any means. If I can avoid crowds, I usually do. An introvert’s paradise is best spent in the comfort of their own room, after all. But if you prefer outdoor dates I can become extroverted for your sake. There are lots of things I’m willing to do for your sake.

Which is why I’ve forced myself to tolerate the train. I loathe it. It’s cramped and uncomfortable. Most days I’m not even near you, and so all I can do is stare longingly from afar. I content myself with imaginary scenarios like in the books you edit. I’ve mentioned it sparsely in this diary, but you’re a brilliant editor. Most of the novels you work on aren’t exactly my taste, but there’s something to appreciate about them. Reading through them knowing your very eyes pored over these pages dozens of times before publication… I admire your work. Immense time and effort goes into all professions, especially ones that involve meticulous touches.

With this discussion of careers, you might wonder what I do for a living. I manage my own restaurant chain off-site. It must be shocking news for you to realize: your secret admirer is actually quite successful.

If I’m not able to provide an adequate life—no, more than that. If I cannot drown you in all of life’s luxuries, I should sooner throw myself on the beach and let this soft, wriggling body of mine dry out than settle for the barest of minimums. You deserve only the finest.

In fact, I have a room in my home dedicated to you. A private office in which you can write and edit in peace. It’s furnished with everything you’d ever need. I hope to gift it to you one day.

Remote work is very relaxing. (You’ll know this once you try it here.) When you’re boss, you work your own schedule. That’s why I’m able to fit our secret meetings into my weekly itinerary.

Today’s meeting was quite fortuitous. I felt like I’d won the lottery. Mostly because I was finally given the opportunity to be close to you. So close, in fact, that you didn’t even notice when I slid my phone under your skirt to take a few photos. Your undergarments are unexpectedly plain. Truthfully, I’m somewhat disappointed. I was hoping to learn your lingerie preferences. At the very least, I know your tights are sheer enough to show me the color of your panties.

I consider myself a connoisseur of many things, and I’ve done enough interior decorating in my time to become well-accustomed to color palettes. A fool would say your panties are red, but they’re actually maroon.

That same fool wouldn’t take another breath after glimpsing such a private side of you.

If you must know, my dear, I am excessively avaricious when it comes to the things I like. I have always been this way. I am a collector. A hoarder of secrets. I refuse to let others touch or take the things that belong to me, especially when they are wholly undeserving…

I’ve broken another pen. Thankfully, the mess wasn’t so extreme. Not-so-thankfully, I’ve lost my train of thought.

Ah. Right. Trains.

Today I rode the train, and I was standing right behind you. You were looking out the window, lost in your thoughts, and so you didn’t notice me. You must have seen my reflection, but I wear a mask and a hooded sweatshirt when I go outside. Perhaps it’s a touch embarrassing to admit, but I am very self-conscious of the way I look. Firstly, my eyes are too tired. I’ve read that many people are not fond of eyes with dark circles under them. Secondly, my face is average—unworthy of your love by my lofty standards. My hair never cooperates. My smiles never fit properly. My skin is too pale. My eyes are too blue and my pupils are abnormal. My weight is just a few kilograms above the average. I will work hard to bring it back down for your sake and for my own so that it won’t show. I prefer a slim waist, so I must stomach all manner of healthy foods for the weekend. What a pity… Wouldn’t it be wonderful if you could eat whatever you wanted without having to worry about caloric intake and numbers on a scale?

That aside, there are times in which my glasses sit crooked on my face and it’s a horrifying thought to imagine I walk around looking like that! As if I’ve rolled right out of bed with no regard for my appearance whatsoever!

Perhaps the both of us share one similarity. We are vain creatures who care too much about how we present ourselves to others.

Thus, I conceal myself so that you won’t judge me harshly should you look upon me. Not like you’d do that. You were so immersed in your head that you hardly paid any attention to your surroundings. You should be more careful. What if something were to happen and I wasn’t there to protect you?

The train stuttered to a halt at the first stop, and some fool bumped into me. I should thank them because I got to brush against you. You gasped softly. I watched your breath fog the window. I placed my hand just above your head and apologized softly, and you weren’t bothered in the slightest. Oh, how I envy your carefree nature.

As a result of that stranger’s mishap, I’ve learned something new. You wear perfume. Even with my mask, I could smell it. Strong and flowery, overwhelmingly sweet. Maybe you prefer these scents? I’m more partial to mature scents, but I admit there’s a certain charm to the scents you wear. I wish I knew the exact brand. There are dozens of perfumes with the same notes as the ones I picked up, but none can compare to the one you use. I want to be able to hold the bottle knowing it’s your favorite.

I’ve prattled enough. With the length of my entries, you’d assume I was this chatty beyond the page. I’m not. I only say as much as I think is necessary.

Once again, I’m having trouble falling asleep. I can’t stop thinking about you. I’m looking through the photos I snapped and the outline of your lips against your panties is lovely. I’m sure you’re just as soft and sweet inside as you are on the outside. If only I could experience it right now. My hand can’t replicate the softness or the wetness or the way you’ll probably clamp down when we finally make love.

I can only fantasize for now. What a pain.

AA.

“It’s going to rain today,” Jack tells you the minute you step through the lift doors into the lobby. He stands straight like a soldier, his shoulders squared and features set into something serious.

“Looks like it, huh?” You glance at the darkening sky outside, slinging your bag over your shoulder. “Hopefully it rains after I get home. I didn’t bring an umbrella.”

“I’ll drive you.” He falls into step beside you. “It’s dark out and the station is—”

“It’s only five minutes away. I’ll be fine. I take this way all the time.”

Jack’s lip twitches into a grim frown. The beginnings of a sharp, pearly-white canine flashes at you as his mouth curls. “Fine,” he concedes with a huff. Awkwardly, he scratches the back of his neck and looks elsewhere. “Do what you want. I’m not forcing you or anything.”

You smile at him. “You’re very considerate, Jack. I appreciate the concern.”

He’s like a puppy. It’s really sweet.

“W-Wha—who said anything about concern?” His face is growing warmer by the second, thawing his external ice.

“I’ll be okay. It’s not even that dark out either.”

“Still…” He sighs and cards his hand through his hair. “You haven’t noticed anything weird lately, have you?”

“Anything weird?” You furrow your brows, suddenly confused.

“On your way home. Nothing out of the ordinary? It’s the same every day?”

“Mostly, yeah. Why? Did something happen?”

“No. Just wondering…” Jack looks past you then, searching for something you can’t seem to see. “You sure you don’t want a ride? I can walk you to the station. Protect you if anything or anyone—”

You force yourself to laugh. “Come on. You’re trying to scare me on purpose. This is because I told you I’m editing a horror novel, isn’t it?”

Jack doesn’t share in your humor. Instead, his frown tightens on his face.

“While I’m grateful you want to help, I really don’t want to put that on you. It’s not your job to chauffeur me around. I’d feel bad if I made you do that. So thank you, but I’ll have to decline.”

You turn swiftly on your heel before he can protest, striding out the door into the gloomy night.

When is it going to be summer? It’s way too chilly.

You burrow into your jacket as you beeline for the station. A brisk breeze blows through busy city streets. Even though there are still people out and about, it feels strangely desolate.

Jack’s heart was in the right place, but did he really have to phrase it like that?

You wrap your arms around yourself and hurry along. Your steps are in time with your pounding heart. A cold sweat beads along your forehead.

Relax. It’s nothing to get worked up over. I’m fine.

Crunch.

You whirl around, clutching your bag between your arms. There’s no one in sight. The city seems eerily quiet tonight.

Stop scaring yourself. Nothing’s there.

No, it’s not something that could make that sound—a noise akin to a footstep. That belongs to someone.

Is someone following you?

You aren’t going to wait around and find out. Now you’re jogging the rest of the way, your heels clicking against the pavement. Your breath comes in shaky heaves, and by the time you finally step into the station’s blinding fluorescents, adrenaline still vibrating through your veins, you notice the time.

My train—it’s already here! Thank you. Oh, thank you so much!

You rush through the station in a flurry, and the relief is tangible once you’re safe and sound inside the train car. You squirm through the throng of late-night commuters towards the window.

“Sorry. Excuse me. Pardon me,” you murmur as you navigate the crowded space.

You make it to the window just as the doors slide shut. Moments later, the train squeaks into motion.

I worked up such a sweat. I can’t believe I got so frazzled over something as small as a snapped twig…or whatever that was. It wasn’t a footstep. And if it was, it was probably my own.

You shake your head at your reflection.

Look at me, losing my mind all because I let someone’s words get to my head.

The stranger standing behind you sighs alongside you. You’re about to turn around, but it’s their hands on your waist that stop you. Your blood freezes. Your spine goes rigid.

“Excuse me? Um… C-Can I help you?”

You gasp, horrified, as the hands creep higher until they’re wrapped around your chest. The stranger squeezes almost curiously. Their breath catches on an eager hitch. You peer helplessly at the window. Two blue eyes blink back.

“Wait… Hold on—”

“It’s okay.” A man’s voice. Sweet and silky-smooth. A reassuring whisper. Only you can hear it with this invasively close proximity. It might as well be a drop in the ocean that is the rickety din of the train on the rails. You reach to grab his arms, hoping to pry him off. “I’m not going to hurt you. As long as you’re quiet…”

“No, you can’t. Please, sir. S-Stop… Don’t touch there.” Your fingers curl around his wrists. You squirm against him, your brain blanking.

This can’t be happening… There’s just no way…

Something stiff prods at your ass from behind. You yelp softly when he rubs himself against you. You try to catch sight of his features when you crane your neck, but all you get is a faceful of a dark hoodie. He’s tall enough to block you from the other passengers, his body caging yours against the window. One hand slides away from your chest to slip under your skirt. He gropes at your inner thigh; his fingers draw dangerously close to private territory.

“Sir—”

He inhales a dreamy breath. “Perfect,” he babbles, his words muffled by his mask. “So perfect. Warm… And soft. Just as I thought.”

There’s nowhere for you to run. Nowhere to hide. You’re trapped here with this fiend until you get off at your stop.

“We will be approaching the stop shortly,” the woman on the intercom says, but it doesn’t give you the relief you’re after.

Three more stops and then you’ll be at yours. Three more. Three. Your stop might as well be years away.

Two fingers trace the outline of your pussy through your panties. You’re grateful you’re wearing tights.

His breathing is heavy. He’s mumbling filth in your ear. You hardly register it over the static in your brain.

Gross. So gross. Stop it. Please stop. I don’t want this.

A whine bubbles low in your throat when he presses down against your clit. He caresses you through the fabric of your panties. You slump against the window with your palms on the glass. Your heart is in your throat. You feel sick and dizzy. It’s too hot in here. Everything is spinning. Your heart is picking up its pace. Your hands are starting to shake.

And there’s nowhere to go. No amount of begging will stop him. He’s all over you, pressed impossibly close—so close you think he’s trying to fuse his body to yours, becoming one mutual unit.

You want to scream, but you can’t find your voice. You can’t do anything. You can’t even think.

“Don’t be scared,” he murmurs, twining his fingers around your trembling ones. “It feels good, doesn’t it?”

“Mmh, no… No—stop. P-Please, sir, please stop.” You shudder against him, and a choked, broken sob rattles through your ribs.

He chuckles and squeezes your hand. His other circles your tender, sensitive clit, and the contact elicits a whimper from you. “Even though you’re making the cutest sounds? Aah, I wanna be inside you so badly… I’m sure it’s even softer there.”

You bite down on your bottom lip so hard that your teeth pierce the skin. A thin ribbon of blood dribbles down your chin. You refuse to give him that satisfaction. Even though your attempt to snuff your voice is successful, your body doesn’t seem to agree. It shakes in fear and arousal. When he presses against your panties next, he feels the growing damp spot.

That’s just a natural reaction, right? I’m not actually aroused by this. There’s no way!

Just when you think he might pursue further, he pulls back. His hips are still flush to your ass. You can feel his cock straining against the fabric. It’s gross and demoralizing. You’re nothing but a doll for him to get off to. Less than a person.

The train glides to a halt and the doors open. People exit and enter in a busy fashion. You stare out the window at your blurred surroundings.

When the train eases back into motion, you realize tears are welling in your eyes. They don’t fall. Not yet.

It isn’t until you get off at your stop, sprint the rest of the way home, hurry up into your apartment, and lock the door that the horror of it all finally catches up to you. You collapse to your knees and wail like you’ve just lost something precious—something you’ll never be able to get back.

You’ve never felt more dirty before.

entry 36: 4 May, 20XX.

I did it. I finally did it.

My hand is shaking; I’m so happy. No, I’m more than happy. I’m absolutely overjoyed!

You don’t know this about me yet, but I’m terribly envious. I suppose that’s why I could muster the confidence to touch you and hold you… Your body is so soft against mine. Every inch of you is beautiful. I wish I could have felt beneath your shirt, lifted your bra to see your bare breasts in the window’s reflection. This is quite the shameless admission. Even I, despite admiring you for so long, am loath to admit it.

You mesmerize me. I’m already flustered just thinking about the way your hand fit in mine when I held it… And you were aroused! I was so close to such a precious area, and you were wet for me and only me. I feel so overwhelmed. It’s a dream come true. You’re such an angel. My angel.

My dear, darling angel, I’m sorry for startling you. That was the only way, you see, and certain circumstances led me to that point. You must understand.

To be unfiltered about it, it was annoying seeing that security guard pester you. I had the strongest urge to kill him, but that’s not something you can do on a whim. Murder is like running a business, in a way. One misstep, a bad investment or a sliver of evidence left behind, and it might spell the end.

That’s besides the point. It’s hardly worth the time.

Regrettably, while on the train into the city, I noticed you were wearing trousers today. I was right. Last night was a once-in-a-lifetime event. A pity. Your legs in those sheer tights is a vision to behold. Luckily, I have enough pictures to satisfy the craving to see you in them. When you live with me, I’ll buy plenty of tights for you to wear around the house. That way you won’t have to worry if I rip them.

That aside, you’ve started looking over your shoulder more. You talked to that security guard longer than you normally do. It’s irritating. Quite frankly, it pisses me off.

I don’t want to be childish. I understand you’re stressed and nervous. Anyone would be. That’s normal. But I’m not going to hurt you. I even told you those exact words! I’m certain you would have calmed down if you could see my face. Unfortunately, I’m not very blessed in that department. I assure you my personality is far prettier…despite the ugly truths I’ve penned here.

But then those don’t matter when it comes to love. Even in love, couples are supposed to recognize and accept each other’s flaws. So it’s fine if I’m an ugly person. It’s fine if I’m a devil or something grotesque from the deepest trench in the sea. At least, in spite of such darkness, your halo will continue to light the way and I will always be lured in by your luminosity.

I can’t do much of anything right now and that has led me to feel increasingly itchy. I want to feel you again. Smell you. Touch you. I’d like to taste you next time. Part your legs or tear your skirt off and indulge in the space you keep hidden from me. I want to sink into your depths and know the shape of you just as you twist yourself to take the shape of me.

It’s just not enough. I desire more of you.

AA.

entry 40: 8 May, 20XX.

It’s been a few days. You haven’t taken the train since. Now you’re driven to and from work by that pest. I was overcome with such frustration yesterday that I slammed my hands down upon my desk and fractured my wrist. For the time being, until my wrist heals, I must wear this unsightly stabilizer-brace-thing and write carefully with my non-dominant hand. I like to consider myself ambidextrous, if only because it’s a talent I’m sure will impress you, as you seem to surround yourself with successful, talented people, but I must admit my lettering is rather…subpar.

It’s not as neat as I hoped it would be. Something to practice while my wrist heals, I suppose.

There’s only so much strain I can take, my angel. Are you really so afraid of me that you’ve chosen to rely on someone else to protect you? If it was funny, I’d laugh. But it’s not. It’s annoying. Must I chain you up by the throat so that you won’t run away? Must I cuff our wrists together so that neither of us can part ways? What must I do to ensure you’ll never leave me?

Every day I spend in solitude, you grow closer to everyone but me. It’s infuriating.

However, there are always silvers of hope to be found and exploited in misfortune. As a businessman, I know this well enough.

I can plan around this. I’ve taken a few photos of your house at every angle. It’s important to think ahead when making a calculated risk.

When you go to kidnap the love of your life, you must dress appropriately, no? Now should I wear a formal suit or something casual?

I have some time and plenty to look forward to.

AA.

Like always, early as usual, Jack is waiting for you below your apartment. You see his car from the window and light up at once.

It’s been two months since the incident on the train. Jack insisted you go to the police when you confided in him a week after the fact. But what could they do? A story isn’t evidence. Evidence is evidence. So to combat that, you’ve avoided public transport altogether. Jack drives you to and from work and anywhere else you need to go. You never knew him very well before this mess, and you regret not starting a friendship sooner. He’s everything you need right now: a friend, a listener, and someone you can trust and rely on.

Like always, he unlocks the door so you can put your things in the back. “It’s my turn to treat for lunch today, so let’s go somewhere you like.”

You shut the door and open the passenger side, sliding in seamlessly.

“There’s no need for that.”

Your heart skips. Your breath stumbles in your lungs. Your body tenses.

You finally look at the driver.

He’s wearing what appears to be an expensive collared shirt with a tie, but the top half is covered by the soft hoodie he’s thrown on over it. He has a mask like before, but there’s no denying his eyes. Bright and blue, deep and deceptive like the ocean, they blink back at you.

The door locks with a click.

You throw yourself at it in a useless effort to escape. The masked stranger seizes your wrist. You scream.

“There’s no need to be afraid. I-It’s only me! I won’t hurt you.” He tugs his mask down to his chin so that you can see the wobbly smile on his face. “Please don’t be scared…”

“Let go of me, you pervert!” You rip your arm free and reach for the door once more. “What the hell are you doing here?! W-Where’s Jack? Why are you—”

You choke around the rest of your words when he wraps his arms around you and yanks you over the seat towards him. You kick out like a deranged animal, breathing heavy and frantic, your eyes darting to and fro. The stranger manages to manhandle you into a chokehold despite the struggle. With his arm wrapped around your neck, he grabs a plastic water bottle with his free hand. Clumsily, he unscrews the cap and presses the lip of the bottle to your mouth.

“I’m sorry for being so rough, but I need you to drink this. Can you do that for me? Drink all of it.” As he says this, he tips the bottle and the strange liquid fills your mouth. You fight against his hold, doing everything you can to resist. He tightens his grip on you, dragging your body closer to his. “Swallow it, or I’ll slit your throat.”

Against your will, very shakily, you gulp down the solution. It tastes bitter and vile like medicine. A little salty.

“I didn’t want to frighten you, my angel, but this is the only way you’ll listen.” He swipes the tear threatening to spill from your eye. “You don’t have to cry. I’ll take you home and keep you safe. Just drink the rest of this and take a nap until we get there. That’s it. You’re almost done. I know it’s disgusting, but you have to drink it all, my love.”

“Why…” you sputter, coughing. “Why are you doing this?”

“Why?” He blinks at you as if the answer is obvious. “Because I love you.”

You can’t understand the logic there. You don’t want to.

Slumping against the seat, boneless and disturbed, you tremble when he leans over to buckle you in. And you continue to do so until you’re pulled into sleep.

Two blue eyes follow you in your dreams, sticking to your body like old gum under a school desk. In sleep, you feel his hands on you—clinging and cloying like tentacles and the stench of brine, all-enveloping.

entry 179: 24 September, 20XX.

Summer is winding to a close. The last few vestiges of warmth are slipping away. Today’s weather was crisp. Autumn is approaching.

It’s been a difficult few months. I’ve catalogued my process in the time you’ve spent with me, locked away in our bedroom. I must keep you chained to the bed for the time being. It’s long enough to lead into the bathroom. Until I can trust you, this is the arrangement at present.

They’re still searching for you, albeit not as frantically and frequently. I hope they assume you’ve met some grisly end so that I can finally shelve that anxiety and move on with my life. While I’m relieved it wasn’t as messy as I thought it’d be, I’m just a touch disheartened. I would have loved to watch the light fade from that guard’s eyes.

But that just wasn’t feasible or smart. Besides, what else am I to use my current fortune for, if not the props needed for that day? You call it kidnapping, and while that term is technically true I prefer something sweeter. A reunion of sorts.

There’s nothing of note to discuss. You haven’t accepted your new home or me yet, so I will continue to wait. I can be patient. I must be if this relationship is going to work (and it will).

I don’t particularly believe in soulmates. Rather, I find the concept to be foolish. Fate does not dictate an entire life. It is the decisions you make along the way that shape your paths. Just like in my favorite board game. I’d like to play it with you. Although I must admit I already know how our life goes. I have a few routes in mind.

You look at me with such scalding contempt when I imply we ought to start a family, and even though I’ve been victim to that look so many times it doesn’t burn any less. You just can’t see how good this is for you yet.

What else are we to do with our time if not use it to fill quiet halls with the pitter-patter of tiny feet? I have a few names in mind, but for now we’ll take it one day at a time. I’m a patient man despite my temper.

AA.

entry 257: 11 December, 20XX.

Exciting news! Though it may seem small, we’ve reached an understanding. Or so I suspect. You’re not so averse to me anymore. In fact, we take baths together, eat meals together, watch TV together, play board games together… There are so many things we do together as a couple and so, despite the encroaching winter frost, my days have become warmer! Just last night you allowed me to sleep beside you on our bed, and I held you close and you kissed me and I felt like the luckiest man alive.

Finally! Genuine progress!

I won’t delude myself and say that you may finally love me in the way I love you, but a start is a start. I admit I couldn’t help myself. I returned your kiss tenfold, all over your face, down the column of your throat to your collarbone. I was gentle and careful. I didn’t rush.

I like to play experienced in all fields, but even I can’t act perfectly. How should I describe our first time without all of the shameless vulgarity? Perhaps it doesn’t matter. Sex is sex no matter how you try to embellish it. Filthy and imperfect, sweaty and sticky, more effort and exercise than I realized.

You pulled me in close, pursued my mouth with the same want in mine, and it was more cathartic than anything I’ve ever known. Oh, to be kissed by the love of your life! I wasn’t aware such joy existed.

You palmed me through my pajamas and told me you wanted a family—that the idea of raising a little one was perfectly charming. I admit it’s an alluring thought I’ve had long before you lived with me. I’ve always thought you would look very enchanting while pregnant. I wouldn’t be able to keep my hands to myself. Even though it isn’t official yet, it doesn’t hurt to call myself your husband. In my mind and heart, we’re married. It may not seem so to you yet, but it will be.

Back to the matter at hand. Hearing that you wanted a child with me made me happy. I can’t remember if I cried. I must have because you pulled me in close and you, lying beneath me, wiped at my face and told me you wanted me to give you a child. And who am I if not the most doting, most benevolent husband? I’d do anything for you.

This must be what a predator feels when they tear into prey: a rapture so absolute and all-consuming that it covers their brain like a cotton shroud and renders every other action a hazy instinct.

It was a blur even though I was sure I moved slowly. Clothes weren’t exactly shucked. They were in the way and we had a singular goal, far too focused to remove them completely. Thus, they were pulled up, down, to the side, in whichever way provided easiest access. I closed my hands around your breasts and they feel so much softer without the obstruction of clothes.

Perhaps, rather than humans, we’re just anglerfish. Hungry for each other, using the other, a voracious relationship full of mutual benefits. If I could, I’d love to live inside you. I want nothing more than to press myself close enough to feel your heart beat alongside mine. To feel rushing blood. To turn myself inside-out just to satisfy you. Give you every little thing I can offer—brain and body—and we’d cleave through sunless waters as one, together forever.

The word ‘love’ is not large enough to truly encapsulate all that I feel for you.

My forehead pressed to yours. You kissed me once. I felt sloppy. I was sloppy. Inexperienced. We both are. Your hand wrapped around me. I told you it was okay, to do it at your own pace, to tell me if it hurts. But you kissed my every anxiety away, and in just a few strokes we were connected. Perhaps I died then and I’m still dead now.

Maybe I’m writing this from the moon or the deep, dark sea. Maybe all of this is just a long dream and I’m not even human. Maybe I’m the anglerfish stuck to your side, latched on with my sharp teeth, our lives forever intertwined. You taste of fruit and blood and every beautifully painful thing in this world.

For the first time in the many months we’ve lived together, you called me by my name. You gasped it as you curled your legs around my waist and clung to my chest, your arms draped over my neck, nails in my back. You chanted it like a song. I must have done the same with yours.

However, no amount of carnal euphoria can change the fact that I still have my reservations about unchaining you.

A deliberation for another day. It’s time to cook dinner. I’ve improved lots in the time we’ve known each other. You help around the kitchen as well. Harmless things like stirring batter or mixing a salad. I can’t trust you with actual food prep for reasons I’m sure are obvious and understandable. I try to create balanced meal plans. Now that I’m no longer eating alone and surviving off of misery, I want to show you that I’m both a great chef and a conscientious eater.

AA.

You watch the seasons shift outside the bedroom window and there’s nothing you can do.

You live life chained like a prisoner and there’s nothing you can do.

You eat off paper plates with the same utensils made for toddlers and there’s nothing you can do.

You let the same man whose touch was once so covetous pet you all over with his hands and mouth and there’s nothing you can do.

You’re stuck here forever and there’s nothing you can do.

There are highs higher than the clouds and then there are lows lower than the sea. You oscillate between these temperaments, a body thrown around on rocky waves. How you’ve yet to sink and drown for good, you’re not sure.

Today’s low has brought Azul to his knees. You stand over him, gripping the knife in a shaky hold. Chopped vegetables scatter in a rainbow on the floor. He had been chopping them so methodically, so wrapped up in pleasant conversation with you, that he hadn’t been expecting the retaliation. The blade is freshly sharpened. The perfect weapon. The perfect opportunity. Freedom just after this final hurdle.

Freedom that comes with its burdens—with a child and the law and the media and… And then what? A life of loneliness. A life spent working through mountains of trauma. A life in which you can never look at the train again.

Two blue eyes blink up at you. For the first time, Azul looks scared and weak—a small, pitiful thing. For the first time, you have him trapped beneath your thumb.

You want to bring the knife down and put an end to these cyclical days. You want to crush his spirits in the same way he crushed yours. You want him to know pain so brutal it rots him from the inside.

But you can’t. You want to and in an ideal scenario devoid of fear you would. But you can’t.

You dig your heel palms into your eyes and sob. “I can’t! I’m sorry. I… I can’t do it!”

Azul deflates with a deep sigh. “Oh… Oh, my angel, it’s all right. I forgive you. You’re just a little confused. A little emotional—I get it. We all have emotional moments. I’m not upset.”

“But I—I almost… I was going to—”

“You didn’t. You didn’t, my love, and that’s what matters.”

He beckons you to his height; you lower to your knees. The knife is still clutched in your hands. He looks between it and you, as if weighing which is more dangerous. Volatile emotions or a blade. Maybe both.

Azul wraps his arms around you and rubs your back consolingly. “It’s okay. I’m not angry.”

You sniffle, but the tears won’t stop flowing. “Still… I almost did such a horrible thing to you. I could’ve hurt you—k-killed you!”

“My dear, it’s okay.” He kisses the top of your head, tucking you beneath his chin. “I forgive you.”

Your fingers tighten around the handle. “You do?”

“I do. I always will.”

“Well, I don’t.”

“Angel—”

You turn the sharpened point inwards and slam it into his side, just below his rib. It pierces through soft flesh. You pull away just in time to see hurt and betrayal flash across his face, hot like the tears you’re now drying.

Shakily, his movements unsteady, he reaches for the handle. His fingers dance across it, assessing the reality of the situation. You stabbed him. You did it.

He hisses through his teeth when he tears it out. Blood spatters the kitchen floor in a brilliant, vermillion arc. Azul, knife in hand, staggers to his feet and lunges.

You stumble away in a blind panic.

“How dare you…” He clutches his side with one hand while the other slashes through the air. You narrowly dodge before the knife can slice your arm. Blood seeps through Azul’s shirt, staining his palm red. His expression is twisted in a dark concoction of agony and anger. “I’ve shown you nothing but love and care… I’ve been nothing but patient. I’ve done everything! You were beginning to warm up to me—to this life—our life! I was wrong to trust you. Get back here—”

“You’re crazy! You assaulted me, kidnapped me, threatened me! Do you really think I’d love you after all of that?!” You yelp when his slick, blood-stained fingers wrap around your wrist to drag you down. “Stop! Let go of me!”

You elbow him in the ribs, which causes a shockwave of pain to travel through him, and it gives you enough time to wriggle free. Ripping your arm from his hold, you try to get away when he, aiming to subdue you, grabs hold of your ankle next. You feel the blade sink into your calf before you see it. A terrible cry frays your throat, torn from the depths of your chest like a flower pried from the soil.

“If I’m going to die…” He flops to his knees, wheezing. “If I’m going to die, you’ll die with me.”

“Like hell I will!” you hiss through your teeth, thrashing wildly.

Stupidly, you pull the knife from where it’s wedged in. Blood spurts from the wound, trickling down your leg in a thick, steady stream. You wince and limp towards the door. Closer… You’re almost there.

Azul reaches out with a bloodied hand, his expression utterly shattered. “Wait… Don’t go any further. Please… I need you. We need each other. My angel, my love, please don’t go!”

You tear your eyes away. He’s a monster. You’ll never sympathize with him.

Just before you can get to the front door, Azul picks himself up and wraps his arms around your waist. He pulls you down and your head hits the floor with a harsh smack. You see stars. The ceiling spins above you. You try to get up, crawl away, escape—whatever it takes to lose him—but he clings to your side, holding tight. His blood is warm and wet against your shirt. The pain in your calf is sparking up your leg, joining the ache at the back of your head in duet.

Pressed so closely, the flow of blood slows. Your shirt soaks up what the rest of his already drenched shirt can’t hold.

You watch the ceiling. The light looks like a halo; it shines brightly. Azul blinks up at you, hopelessly, sickly enthralled. The tip of the knife prods at your stomach. If it pierces, you don’t feel it. You’re sore all over. Bruises are already beginning to bloom.

At the bottom of the sea, clothed in frigid darkness, there is no sense of direction.

That’s the sweetest relief while you wade into unconsciousness with a parasitic angler.

#yandere twst #yandere twst x reader #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere twisted wonderland x reader #yandere azul ashengrotto #yandere azul ashengrotto x reader #yandere azul #yandere azul x reader #tw: noncon touching #tw: noncon #tw: chikan #n/sfw #tw: stalking

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monstersflashlight · 6 hours

Note

I’m so sorry because I’m always the one that’s like, ‘part 2’, and yeah. So, I just want to apologize for that before I say;

Alien inspection part two?

It was so good it made my genitalia quake.

Per popular request, here it is the alien inspection part 2. If you haven’t read the first it’s here. First of all, I want to say thanks to everyone who liked this story, it was very experimental for me and the feedback was amazing. As per everyone who requested more of it, thank you! It’s so nice to see that people enjoy my writing and want more of it. Hope it meets your expectations. <3

Alien inspection: the confrontation

alien x fem!reader || degradation/humiliation, restrains, double penetration, groping, dub-con, CNC

It takes you three days to find him again, calling in a couple favors from other humans at the space base until you find the damn alien. You are mad on every human’s behalf. He took advantage of you, he lied to you, and he ended up fingering you until you were coming so hard you saw stars. That wasn’t okay. That was rude. So found him. And you were going to call him out on his bullshit.

You stomp your way to him at the cafeteria. “Hey you!” You scream next to him. The other aliens with him all look at you like you are going mad. Maybe you are.

“What?” The alien doctor looks at you like he doesn’t recognize you. How dare he? “Who are you?” He asks finally, raising your anger to the point of boiling.

You look up at him as he stands up, your height difference once more making you feel small. But your anger is enough to make you feel like a giant. “What? You don’t even remember the humans you finger fuck? You are a piece of trash!” You scream. Everyone is staring at you two, you are making a scene. He looks like nothing is happening, but truth be told, you don’t understand alien features so well, yet.

“I don’t remember you, but apparently you do. But we are not having this conversation here.” He tells you under his breath, grabbing your wrist and dragging you out of the cafeteria. You think you heard some other alien say something about crazy humans. You don’t mind them as he leads the way.

“Let me go!” You pull your hand away the second you are behind a closed door. It looks like the medical room from the first day, but this one is bigger, and the walls aren’t bare. It looks like some kind of office. His office? Probably. It would make sense for him to have a medical table there, for private consults or something.

“So, who are you again?” He asks, clearly uninterested. You are fuming.

“You fuck humans because you have a kink and then you forget, what a piece of shit alien you are,” you curse him. His face remains calm and that makes something inside of you tick, infuriated.

“I do. I’m not going to deny that.” You are speechless at his acceptance, you thought he would deny it or something, try to sell you a different story, but no. He’s looking at you like you are stupid, and you start to feel like maybe you are. What were you expecting coming after him like this? He’s not going to apologize.

“You lied to me. You said I was your first human.” You try to keep the hurt away from your tone, but it’s fruitless. That’s the real reason you looked for him after all, you wanted him. You knew it was wrong and weird, but the orgasm he gave you was the best you ever had, and you needed a repeat. Fuck, you are depraved.

He didn’t even flinch as he confesses: “I tell that to everyone, I like them naive.” He smirks with his big mouth and strange features, making a shiver run down your spine and heat pool in your lower abdomen.

“What a piece of shit,” you curse again, almost spitting on him.

“Why are you really here, human? You want an apology? A repeat?” You shake your head, but he sees right through you. “Oh, so that’s it… You are one of those. I don’t remember you but I bet you didn’t try to fight me, did you? You enjoyed yourself. So much that you are here for more. What a depraved filthy human…” He looks at you without expression, like he’s completely neutral in this situation. You feel embarrassment creep up your cheeks as he stares at you with his weird big pupils. It’s disconcerting and creepy, but you can’t stop wanting him. What the fuck is wrong with you?

“What did you do to me? Why I’m craving this?” You ask, confused with yourself and with him. You don’t understand what’s happening, you shouldn’t feel the way you do. You shouldn’t be this wet just being close to him. This alien must have done something to you.

“I didn’t do anything to you. I enjoyed your body and you came for more. Color me surprised, human. No one before you came looking for more.” You sputter, trying to come up with a response but failing. His hand with too long fingers caresses your cheek and grabs your hair, pulling your head back. He leans down, his face close to yours as he says: “I’m going to enjoy your whorish human nature.”

And then everything happens so fast you can’t fully process his words. One second he’s in front of you and you are standing, and next second you are on the table with weird tubes holding your arms and legs down. You are spread completely, your body restrained as he stares at you. He turns his back and start rummaging in a drawer. Your anxiety spikes as he turns around and shows you one phallic device that resemble an earth dildo and some kind of suction cups.

You try to get free from the cables, but they aren’t bulging. “Let me go. I didn’t ask for this.” You bet you look pathetic, tied to a metal table struggling to get free. You can feel your skirt riding up, your thighs exposed, your panties almost exposed.

He looks at you like you are an interesting specimen before responding. “Oh no, human, you definitely did. You came looking for me, made a scene in front of my coworkers and then asked me why I didn’t fuck you again? You are just a stupid human whore, and lucky for you, I like my humans stupid. Just like you.” His smug tone is so different from the nice and collected he used last time. He was so convincing that you believed him, and now you are tied to a table in his office, feeling stupid and so turned on you could cry.

“I’m not stupid!” You try to argue, but it’s fruitless as he rips your shirt away before you can tell him to fuck off, exposing your breasts to the cold air and making your nipples pebble instantly.

“Oh! Now I remember, those tits are one of the best specimens I’ve seen.” The fact that he didn’t remember your face but he remembered your breast makes you want to fold into yourself and disappear. For him, you aren’t nothing else than a set of tits and holes to play with. And for some reason, that makes your pussy tingle. Fuck. He slaps one of your tits and you moan, instantly getting embarrassed. He looks at you the same way he did the first time: like an experiment. “This time I don’t even have to ask you to open your legs, you are already spread for me,” he teases, amused.

He rolls up your skirt, exposing your lacy panties and making your whole body flush, mortified. “You put me in this position, you sicko!” He chuckles at your weak response, completely aware that you aren’t as opposed to this as you say.

“Human, stop embarrassing yourself. Let’s make a deal, if I touch you right now and you aren’t dripping wet I will stop, okay? But I bet that’s not the case, is it? You are as sick as me and you want alien fingers inside your tight human puppy. How do humans call it? Oh yeah… Pussy.” Him saying that word makes something inside of you surface and a whine escapes your lips. He laughs, your translator getting weird as he does, filling with interferences. And then he rubs your opening over your panties and you scream. “As I hoped, you are a stupid whore.” He takes his fingers away and you whine again, making him snort in amusement as you groan, utterly humiliated.

He moves back to your chest, playing with your breast and pinching your nipples like he has all the time in the world. He even takes his chair and sets it next to you, getting comfortable to play with your body. You are mortified, you feel like a doll in front of him... and it turns you on. He grabs some of the devices he grabbed earlier and sets them on your abdomen, giving you a break as he positions them over your nipples. As soon as they latch, you feel a sucking sensation making you lose your mind. He looks at you with something like a smile as you groan and moan until your chest is so sensitive you start to cry and beg him to stop it. He doesn’t. He lets the weird nipple suckers there and starts caressing down your stomach.

When he gets to your panties, he doesn’t play around, in one fluid motion he pushes your panties aside and pushes two fingers inside of you to the second knuckle. “You are so wet you took my fingers so easily. What a good fuck-hole you have here.” He pushes the rest of his fingers inside, wriggling them as he tickles your cervix, making you groan and struggle. It feels so weird, you don’t even know if you like it. But he doesn’t ask, he just keeps doing that with one hand as the other flicks the suction cups over your nipples making you scream as he laughs, the weird interference in your translator making you shiver.

Tears run down your cheeks as your oversensitive nipples keep being tortured and he finger fucks you. You think that’s going to be it, but then he takes his fingers away and you cry out, asking for more, pleading him to keep going. He looks at you, zero emotions on his face as he reaches for one of the phallic devices and presses something in the bottom. It starts vibrating like a dildo, and some kind of ridges appear and disappear in a hypnotizing manner. You pant as he approaches it to your pussy.

“Say it. Say you want it. Tell me you are a stupid whore who wants this.” He teases your opening with the vibrating head and you scream, so needy and desperate you would do whatever he asked.

“I- I’m a stupid whore,” you mutter, grinding your teeth, shame filling you to the core. He looks at you expectantly, and you add: “And I want it.” He doesn’t wait anymore and pushes it inside in one solid thrust. You buckle your hips and cum instantly, gushing around it. He teases your opening around the dildo, all puffy and pink.

“So pretty.” He keeps rounding your entrance, not moving the dildo, just leaving it there as over-sensitivity rides your body. You are so tired and so stimulated your whole body feels like it’s on fire. You come again. And again. He doesn’t say anything, just stares at your pussy as it twitches around the vibrator. But then he says: “I think I’m going to play with this, too.” And touches your asshole, your never used asshole. You struggle against the restrains, but your body is so tired you can’t do anything to fight him. You try to tell him no, but before you can he shuts you up. “Shh, you are just a human hole. Shut it.” Embarrassment and humiliation feel bitter against your tongue, but your pussy doesn’t care about it was you come again.

He collects some of your fresh juices and circles your back door. He teases you for a bit, but without any heads up, he pushes one of his fingers inside, slowly. He gets it fully inside (all four of his knuckles) before adding a second one, your mind completely blown, your neurons not firing anymore. You feel so full. You are just in a constant state of orgasmic bliss as a dildo vibrates in your pussy and his fingers fuck your ass. You come again as he inserts a second finger. And again with the third. You are starting to lose your mind completely.

And then he stops. He takes his fingers away and stops the dildo and the suction cups. He takes everything away from you and starts cleaning them, without looking at you. You are a drooling teary mess on the table, your juices made a puddle under your ass and it’s starting to get very uncomfortable. You try to speak up, but your voice is completely gone after what feels like hours of crying and screaming in pleasure.

He finishes his tasks and releases your extremities, looking down at you appreciatively for the first time ever. “You did well for a human set of holes. I hope to see you again. Clean after yourself.” And he leaves. He has the audacity of turning around and leaving you there, naked and fucked out.

You hate him.

And you hate yourself more because you are already thinking when would you do it again.

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hisonlykiwi · 3 days

Text

"With that kind of power at your disposal, the possibilities are endless." part two

synopsis: azriel, who's never bothered to acknowledge your existence seeks you out for help.

wc: 1.9k

warnings: none

a/n: hey guys, here's part two! let me know what you think, i would love your feedback

taglist <3: @blackgirlmagicforever, @tele86, @lilah-asteria, @kylaisra, @deeshag

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡ ⋆

part one

Previously: “I need your help.” I pause and look back at him, a pleading look on his face. “Why? You’ve never spoken to me, let alone acknowledged my existence. Then you barge in here, provoking me and suddenly you want my help? I have to laugh.” I pull my wrist away, but he grips tighter, “Please.” He says, and I tug my wrist away again, but he doesn’t budge.

“Let. Me. Go.” I say, unable to withhold my anger. I blink and suddenly, I’m standing in the middle of the woods with Azriel still holding my wrist. He fucking winnowed us to the middle of nowhere. “Azriel, what the fuck are you doing?!” I give him a hard shove, but he doesn’t budge, of course, he doesn’t, he’s a 6’5 man made of pure muscle, ugh! He holds me close to his chest, “I have strong suspicions the inner circle is in grave danger and your abilities would be able to prove if I’m correct.” He quicky says, I stop moving, processing what he just said. He notices, slowly lets me go and moves away a bit but stays close. I peer up at him, confusion and concern laced in my features. “What do you mean, exactly?”

I furrow my eyebrows, still processing. Danger? How could they possibly be in danger? Is that why he brought us out to the middle of the woods, so no one would hear him. I hear Azriel take in a deep breath, “I think Elain is working with Hybern.”

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡ ⋆

part two

Azriel's jaw clenched as he spoke the words, a mixture of anger and determination etched across his face. I raise my eyebrows at his words, “Does she now? And may I ask what brings you to that conclusion?”

The air around him crackled with tension and his eyes hardened. “She's been acting strange, different. Dropping hints and whispering in the shadows. There have been strange occurrences in the city as well, odd movements, disappearances, things that only someone with inside knowledge would know....”

I furrow my brows and cross my arms over my chest. “Which could mean nothing... Look, Azriel, she has been through a lot. Elain was kidnapped from her bed and thrown into the Cauldron where she was turned into something she feared, then the love of her life rejected her, and then she was captured by the Cauldron, by Hybern. And if my memory serves me correctly, you and Feyre were the ones who helped rescue her. Are you sure you’re not reading too much into this?” I finish, peering up to look at him, the weight of my words hanging heavy in the air.

Azriel takes in another deep breath, his eyes ever leaving mine. “There are too many coincidences, and I can't ignore the signs anymore. I've been observing her behavior lately. She seems... different, distant, ever since I helped rescue her from Hybern’s war camp.” He pauses, his gaze darkening. “And, in my line of work... I trust my instincts. They're rarely wrong.” Azriel responds and I tear my gaze from him, this conversation becoming all too consuming.

I run my hands over my face. None of this makes sense, Elain? Sweet ol’ Elain… She isn’t capable of doing something like this. In my short time of knowing her, she doesn’t seem to have the abilities nor experience to fight for herself, much less work with someone as wicked as Hybern. But I can’t ignore what Azriel is telling me. There’s a reason he has sought me out, what would be the point of making such a heavy accusation if there wasn’t some deeper truth behind it? I meet his eyes once again, “So why seek me out? And not Rhysand? I’m not sure what you want me to do.”

Azriel lets out a frustrated breath, “We need someone who can enter minds, who can see if my suspicions are true. If Elain is indeed working with Hybern, we need to know the extent of her plans, and your power can give us that insight. I’m aware Rhysand has the ability to enter minds as well, but since he is mated with Feyre. I’m afraid she’ll be able to peer inside his thoughts, which could be catastrophic if she finds out what her sister is capable of.” His voice is firm yet filled with a hint of fear. I hate to admit it, but he makes a great point and what if he’s right? If Elain is helping Hybern, this is not going to end well. She’s been inside Velaris and knows the secrets and plans of the inner circle. Azriel interrupts my thoughts "I've thought about this a thousand times, and the conclusion I keep coming back to is that you're the only one who can get to her, get her to reveal the truth."

I could feel his eyes on me, waiting for an answer, this is Rhysand’s best friend, his brother, his family, I could trust him, I want to trust him. “If you’ve thought about this a thousand times, I’m going to go ahead and assume you have a plan?” I ask him. Azriel's gaze remains focused and determined. "Here's what we'll do," he says, his voice quiet. “The Winter Court is hosting a ball and they’ve invited all of the courts to attend, which is in 3 weeks’ time. The plan is simple. I’ll need to get close to Elain, to earn her trust. While I distract her, this will allow you to enter her mind without suspicion." He explains. “You'll remain hidden and silent, gathering any information you can find. The goal is not to alert her of your presence or intentions, otherwise she might catch on. We don't want her knowing we're onto her just yet." He finishes. Well, he wasn’t kidding when he said he’s thought this over a thousand times, the plan seems solid and doable. “Okay, I’ll help you... under one condition.” I give him a small smile.

Azriel's eyes flicker with curiosity at my proposition and he nods. "Alright, what's your condition?" I pause, “You can, under no circumstance, let anyone know about my powers. You said it yourself; I could change the course of history itself if anyone were to find out of what I’m capable of. Promise me you won’t tell anyone.” Azriel’s looks at me, his golden eyes glinting with intensity. “I promise,” he said, his voice firm and resolute. “Your secret is safe with me.” He held out his pinky, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

I look at his pinky being held out in front me, amusement being shown in my features., I let out a small chuckle and hooked my pinky with his, “Looks like you have yourself a partner. But really? A pinky promise?” I laugh softly. Azriel's lips curved into a small smile, "Hey, a pinky promise is sacred," he replies, his tone teasingly defensive. "Besides, it's a time-honored tradition among the fae and... let's be honest, it's more fun than a regular promise." I burst out into a fit of giggles and nod along. “A pinky promise it is.” Which causes his small smile to turn into a full blown out grin.

I felt a pang in my chest, similar to one I felt earlier as I looked at his, oh so beautiful smile. “Since we're going to be partners and all, I have a proposition you cannot refuse” I say letting go of his pinky so I can dig in my bag and fetch the report I was working on earlier. “You have to help me with this, Rhysand has me working on it. Which I was doing before I was rudely interrupted.” I jokingly say, handing him the report.

Azriel takes the report and quirks an eyebrow. He glances down at the report, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lip. "You were rudely interrupted, were you?" He teases, his voice carrying a hint of amusement. "I suppose, as your partner, it's only right that I help with your little report." He says. I give him a big grin, “Why thank you partner, you’re too kind.” I take the report from his hands and put it back in my bag, “Now will you please winnow us back home, the woods creep me out.”

Azriel gives a dramatic sigh and rolls his eyes in playful annoyance. "I guess I can do that," he says with a wry smile, holding out a hand. "But only because you asked so kindly." He stepped forward and I put my hand in his outstretched palm. And just like last time, in the blink of an eye, we’re standing in front of the town house. “Thank you, partner.” I say, peering up at him. I felt Azriel give my hand a gentle squeeze before letting go, a small hint of a smile playing on his lips. “Anytime, partner.” He responded.

Where are you? Rhysand’s voice rang in my head. I’m out front of the town house, am I needed? I mentally replied back to him. Yes. There’s been another attack, come to my office as soon as you can. Rhysand said. On my way.

“Everything okay?” Azriel asks and I let out a frustrated sigh, “No. Rhysand, just notified me there’s been another attack. I have to go meet with him. I’ll catch you later, yeah?” I watched as Azriel's expression fell, "Another attack?" He repeats, a mix of anger and frustration seeping into his tone. "Damn it." He grits his teeth. "Where was the attack this time?" He demands, his eyes flickering. “He didn’t give me any specifics. I’ll let you know what he tells me.” Azriel gives me an understanding small nod, "I'll keep an ear out for any more news. If you need anything, just let it know." He says, pointing to my shoulder. A moment later, he is wrapped in shadows and vanishes. I looked over at my shoulder that he pointed at, and to my surprise, there was a small shadow. Just like the one that was around my ankle earlier. “Oh, hi there.” I whisper to the black smoke hovering on my shoulder. It slowly comes near my cheek, a cool, airy feeling against it. It almost felt like it was caressing my cheek. I smile at the sensation, “Well, aren’t you cute?” I try to touch it and the small shadow wraps around my hand. I giggle softly, the feeling a little ticklish.

I admire the small, playful shadow before my mind slips back to the short conversation I had with Rhysand moments ago. I let out a sigh and made my way towards Rhysand’s office, the shadow following close behind me.

It hasn’t been a full week since the last attack and now there’s been another. The attacks are happening more consistently then how they were a couple weeks ago. How am I supposed to figure out the culprit’s motive? Their attacks are always unpredictable, there’s no pattern, no repeated habits or behavior. It’s so strange.

I bring my hand up to knock on the door of Rhysand’s office, but it opens before I even have a chance to actually knock. Hpmh, of course it would, it’s a magic house, I always forget. I make my way inside, “Alright, I’m here, what happe-” I freeze at the sight in front of me. “Elain?”

#acotar #azriel #azriel angst #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x reader #rhysand #azriel x you #azriel x y/n #azriel spymaster #azriel acotar #acotar series #elain archeron #elain acotar #a court of thorns and roses

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