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dilatorywriting · 2 days

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Monster Mayhem: Siren's Song [Part 3]

Gender Neutral Reader x Vil Schoenheit Word Count: 5.2k

Summary: Teaching a Siren to read is perhaps the best or worst idea that you've ever had. If only you were half as capable of reading between the lines.

[PART 1] [PART 2] [PART 3]

‘U-G-L-Y’

“Wow,” you drawled. “What a wonderful use of your new talents.”

The fish you were cooking landed upside down on the hot stone with a crackling sizzle of skin that you could feel as a jumping prickle of heat all along your arm. You poked at your impromptu stovetop with your impromptu stick-spatula and prepared your impromptu leaf-plates. A true culinary connoisseur, you were. When you were rescued, you were going to argue to Riddle that you deserved a promotion to the kitchens. Though, apparently not everyone appreciated your talents.

‘UGLY’ the Siren poked again, jabbing his talon into the sand.

“Then bring me prettier fish,” you returned, pointed. “It’s not that hard.”

His sharp, black claws came up to point at you next alongside his wonderful, two-syllable insult. Then back to you again, with four fingers this time. Both hands going for it. There was a tight, irritated expression on his face that you refused to call a pout because firstly, surely this vicious king of the seas could never pull something so childish. And secondly, because in these past few days you’d developed a terrible habit of just chattering each and every one of your thoughts aloud. And if you called him bratty, or dared imply such pouting was coming from his regal visage, you were just setting yourself up to get drenched by his flailing tail all over again.

“You can’t hurt my feelings,” you said, bland. “Ugly is the nicest thing you’ve ever called me.”

He huffed and smacked his fins against the sand. The trailing, dark tips cracked against your leg and you kicked him right back. It didn’t actually hurt, no more than a pinch to the side, but you’d spent enough time with this asshole now that not fighting back like a toddler pitching a tantrum wasn’t an option anymore.

Just over two weeks, now. Fifteen days and counting.

Those first few days had been spent in a nervous, prey-like panic, of course. Watching him circle the bay with his shredded fins, crying at the top of his lungs until your goosebumps had goosebumps. And then you’d helped untangle him from the mess you’d made, delicately working salt-brined twine away from weeping wounds. Sure, there’d been that whole hoopla of him pinning you in the sand after your act of Great Chivalry and promptly threatening to rip your throat out with his teeth, but you’d moved past that. The offering of home-cooked meals had softened his scaly hide, and then the even greater move of handing him your species’ alphabet like some great, guarded secret of old had sealed the deal. Cheers all around. It’d only taken you nearly being eaten, disemboweled, and drowned, but you’d made peace with your roommate. What a success story.

And now instead of trying to murder you, he just called you U-G-L-Y.

So, you know, baby steps.

The thin, pointed end of his tail whipped up from where you’d kicked him to twine around your ankle and give a sharp tug that had you sprawling face first into the sand with an oomph. Your great tumble sent all those pretty letters of his scattering in the breeze, and you spat out a mouthful of grit.

“Here’s a new one for you,” you chirped, digging your fingers into the muck. F-U-C-K—Y-O-U.

The Siren yowled, which you’d come to recognize far too well as a prickle along your nape and that forever echoing tug, tug, tug somewhere in your head that could never return the call with its corresponding answer. His tail flailed out again to smack at your hands. It was thick, and scaly, and all smooth, powerful muscle. The fact that he hadn’t crushed your poor fingers into a sad, bony paste by now beneath its wrath was a miracle. If you were a more optimistic person, you’d say he was being extra gentle with you on purpose. But even you weren’t delusional enough to think he liked you that much.

“Okay, okay,” you grouched, spitting out another mouthful of pebbles. “Fine. Just not around the food. Unless you want to have to go hunting for dinner all over again.”

The Siren huffed, rolling his eyes like it was a professional sport, and settled himself prettily back against the butt of his tail like he’d never even tried to beat you to death with his fins at all.

You sighed and pulled yourself back out of the sand, scrubbing it from your salt-sticky skin as best as you were able. You returned to poking at your fish. They weren’t too terribly singed, despite your distraction. And the Siren seemed to like the edges extra crispy either way, so it wasn’t any kind of loss. You were in the middle of balancing your impromptu stick-spatula against another impromptu stick-spoon to try and flip the fish without destroying it entirely when you felt a gentle poke, poke, poke against your arm.

You looked back and the Siren stared down at you, lips canted in a sharp smirk that was all pride.

U-G-L-Y—A-N-D—S-T-U-P-I-D, the sand said.

He’d been struggling with applying the whole -pid noise to the proper lettering, because of how similar it was to -ped. And the spelling had been tripping him up (with much obvious frustration) for the last day or so.

“Well done,” you sighed, not even too terribly upset that it had taken you months in Riddle’s impromptu classrooms to learn what he was picking up over the course of a few, harried sessions delivered with broken bits of sharp sticks and an ever changing canvas. “Try this.”

You scribbled another message in the sand. An insult, naturally, because he seemed to like those. You sounded out the letters as you hopped the tip of your finger over them one-by-one, and the Siren stared down at the inscription with the sort of intense focus meant for ancient tomes or sacred texts. You watched his lips move silently as he sounded it out alongside your mini-lesson, and then he was reaching forward to trace over the letters with the curved tip of a claw—knuckles bumping yours for a moment before shooing your hand away.

You returned to your dinner—finishing up the poor, murdered fish as best as you could and doling it out as usual. You reached out to hand pretty boy his leaf-plate, which he took like a lord accepting a meal from a lowly servant. All upturned noses and pointed disinterest. He set it beside him and nibbled on the offering as he continued to study the new task you’d given him—grand, purple fins splayed out at his sides to brush against your hip like a habit. And this was your life now, apparently. Sitting and frying lazy, shallow water fish over a heated stone while your Siren student studied curse words in the sand. If you managed to survive this, no one would ever believe you.

The wrecked ship called to you like, well, did you even have to say it.

(It felt like a low hanging pun at this point. You’d never be able to use the expression again for as long as you lived without thinking of narrowed, purple eyes nearly rolling up into the back of a too pretty head because you were apparently that annoying.)

Every day when you ventured towards the western side of the islet to feed your teeny, round octopus friend, you couldn’t help but sit and stare at the shattered hull. It’s not like it was in any sort of shape to actually get you off your little, sandy prison, but it was… There was something about it that was familiar enough to scratch an itch in your brain, but just alien enough that figuring out what was itching was outright impossible.

Silver songbirds.

‘Not safe,’ the Siren had demanded, with an almost frantic look to him. Not safe.

Every time you tried to venture closer to get a better look, it was like he could feel it. And he’d be pacing the shoreline like a blood-frenzied shark—rattling off muted, angry complaints the whole time that popped against your skin like soda fizz. So, lesson learned. Keep away.

It was a particularly sweltering afternoon today. Not a cloud in the bright, blue sky and nary a breeze to be seen. Sweat was beading unpleasantly along your brow and all down your back, and you hated it. At least on the Rose Queen there had been shade. And the lower decks of the ship submerged in the waves had always felt at least a little chilled. You could practically feel the damp, cool wood against your cheek. The smell of salt and pine oils in your nose. But here, on this stupid not-island with its barren trees and nothings, you just had to suffer in silence. The memories of your ship had you thinking of the washed up Songbird all over again, and you were in the middle of a heated, internal debate over making a swim for it again when something cold rained down over your face in small, scattered droplets.

You blinked back into focus to see Mister Merman at your ankles. You’d been sitting with your heels in the water, but no deeper. Because the shallows were still his territory, and while he hadn’t tried to hold you under in a while now, it was hard to forget something like that so easily. You didn’t really want to chance it if a foul mood struck him, no matter what sort of fragile truce seemed to exist between the pair of you lately.

Last you’d looked he’d been sunning himself on one of the wide, flat rocks—as he was wont to do. Lavender-tipped hair splayed out along his cheeks in a pool of soft gold and fins spread at his hips like the finest, plum silks. How he never seemed to burn with that delicate, ivory skin of his you had no idea. Maybe it was a Magical, Mystical, Merman perk yet undocumented. Or maybe he was just Like That. But he’d been snoozing away on his favorite boulder, and now he had rolled in with the tide to lounge by your toes. His fingers were spread, still dripping with sea water from where he’d flicked you in the face. You frowned at him—partly curious, but also pissilly blinking salt out of your eyes that stung, because come on dude.

He flicked more water your way and said something that you couldn’t manage to catch the shape of. When you didn’t respond with anything other than a pointed scrub of the water dripping down your cheeks, he reached out to wrap a clawed hand around your ankle and give a gentle tug.

“What?” you frowned, confused, and he tugged again.

He canted his head towards you, and then out to the cove behind him. He slipped back with the soft, frothy roll of the waves—just a foot or two—and clearly meant to pull you with him. You slid against the sandbar with a yelp and dug your heels into the muck to keep from getting yanked all the way in.

“No way,” you snipped, kicking a mess of water into his face. He didn’t even blink, just frowned down at you with a twisty sort of petulance. “I thought we were over this. If you drown me you won’t get any more cooked food, y’know. And I, in turn, would very much like to not be drowned. Win, win.”

That frown of his went stiff, and his lips twitched down at the corners. His amethyst eyes darted away and for a moment you swore that those gemstone irises flashed with something almost like guilt. He rolled forward with the next curl of surf and pressed a claw into the damp, dark sand at your hip. He scratched out a careful message, stubbornly refusing to meet your gaze all the while.

Won’t, it said.

“Forgive me for not believing that,” you returned, dry. “You’re oh-for-two now, I think. And, you know, fool me twice, and all that.” Though maybe the first one didn’t really count, seeing how you were both tangled together and sinking to the bottom in a mutual sort of destruction. But whatever. You were keeping it.

The Siren’s brow pinched in the middle and he reached forward to dig his claws in again.

Accident.

Your own brows jumped nearly to your hairline. You were just about to politely point out that dragging someone to the bottom of the ocean until they were bubbling from the nose and flailing wasn’t really an accident,but then you remembered the startled look on his face. The way he hadn’t stopped you from clawing your way back to the surface and how he’d carefully helped tow you back towards the shore after. And… maybe he hadn’t really meant it. It had to be strange, probably. Being able to thrive so easily below the waves and then be faced with someone who would die if they were left facedown in a puddle.

“…Fine,” you huffed, and his eyes jumped back up to yours with all cat-in-the-cream smugness. “But just because I’m about to drop from heatstroke. Not because you asked.”

The Siren rolled his eyes at you and returned to dragging you by your ankles into the shallows.

The bay really was very lovely. It was crystalline clear and the sort of brilliant blue that you’d never even known existed until you’d left the land for a life on the open ocean. The sand below your feet was soft and white, with barely any pebbles or broken bits of shell to dig into your toes. You watched a few crabs scurry out of the way as you were led deeper and deeper, but most of the cove’s occupants were spoiled and slow. Unbothered by this weird, fleshy, bipedal creature stepping past because they’d never known anything else. Once you hit waist-deep, the Siren let go of you to sink more fully into the water. He swam around you in a languid, looping circle—plum fins cresting the surface to flick water against your arms and scales shining like polished glass in the sunlight. It was still far too shallow for him to move around in earnest with how massive that tail of his was, and how wide and trailing his great, beta-like fins were, but he was still elegant. Still fast and flexible as he swam rings around you like an orbit.

“Show off,” you scoffed, but couldn’t quite bite back the grin twitching at your lips.

Because creature from the deep trying to devour your crew or not, Sirens really were so impressive, weren’t they? Straight out of a storybook, and deserving of every song and tale attributed to them.

You reached out before you could help yourself to run your fingers along his tail. The scales were smooth, and sleek, and cool against your palm. The wispy ends of his fins caught along your fingers, but other than a bit of a tangle, you almost managed to run your hand along the whole of it. And what was it? Eight feet? Ten? Bigger than you at least, that was for sure. It wasn’t like anything you’d ever felt. No fish, or whale hide, or shark. Something entirely of its own.

You realized on the next loop when your fingers danced over a patch of still healing scales that you’d felt already that he had most definitely realized your err in personal space, and was letting you poke about on purpose. You glanced up, embarrassed and warm faced, to see the tail end of a smirk quirking out from the water’s surface. Preening bastard.

You turned up your nose and waded deeper. There was a ripple in the water around you, like a chuckle, and he returned to his looping circles. Occasionally his tail would brush up against you to get you to jump, but otherwise he kept his hands to himself and—as promised—did not attempt to wrestle you down to the sandy floor and your subsequent watery grave.

Once you’d made it up to your chest, the Siren was able to start his dance in earnest. He darted away to make a wide arc around the edge of the cove—sunshine catching on his scales like a glare on the water. He shot from one end to the other, so fast it was nearly dizzying to try and keep up with. And then he was back to circling your ankles all over again—tangling your legs in his fins and curling his talons against your calves to try and drag you deeper.

“Okay, okay,” you laughed, paddling after him until you were well and truly above your head. The bay wasn’t very deep, but there were a few areas that dipped down to at least fifteen feet. So soon enough you were bobbing like a top in the gentle surf as he looped around your idly kicking feet—brushing up along your ankles and tugging at the frayed edge of your shirt with his claws when he passed by.

When he next rose above the surface, you’d already taken in a big mouthful of water in preparation, and shot it right into his face. The Siren’s whole expression shriveled up like a hundred-year-old prune and you laughed so hard he had to curl his tail around your waist to keep you from dipping under the waves and choking yourself. You let him drag you around and only grabbed at his fins a little. He would dive below your feet and you’d sink after him. Not nearly as agile or adept, but competent enough to follow his little game of tag without losing completely within the first few seconds. It was—it was nice. Genuinely. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d swam for the fun of it. Way back when you’d first joined up with Riddle’s crew, maybe. It’d been a hot day, just like this one, and you’d been anchored in a safe, shallow inlet off the coast of an archipelago. Deuce and Ace had jumped in first, already brawling, and you’d dove in soon after. It’d been a mess, and Riddle had nearly hung the three of you up by your toes for it. But it’d been fun. Familial. Warm. Something you’d never forget. And while this moment didn’t feel entirely like that one had, there was something similar about it. Sure, you weren’t trying to give the Siren a bloody nose and there were no rock wars, but it was… well, it was nice.

By the end of it, he was swimming lazy, looping shapes around the cove, and you were being dragged alongside him like a raft—kept afloat by the curling press of his tail and relaxing in the afternoon sunshine with the cool ripples of the ocean water to keep you both comfortable in the heat.

“Do you do this a lot?” you asked, as you relaxed in the gentle lull of the surf. “With your pod, I mean.”

The Siren stiffened beneath you, but after a moment he nodded. Slow and rigid. Which—

Oh. Right.

“…sorry,” you mumbled, gaze darting away.

Because he was missing his family just as much as you were missing yours, wasn’t he?

All that frantic pacing at the start of your mutual stranding had just seemed to… fade away as the days passed. He would still circle the entrance of the cove some mornings, singing towards the skies and tilting his head—fins pricked as he searched for an answer. You’d feel it in your nerves, see the gulls overhead dipping in a trance and watch the crabs crawl up onto the sand like they were being dragged out by their little claws. But most of the time now he just… didn’t. He spent his days mumbling over the letters you showed him, or carefully preening over his healing fins and resting in the sun. Catching fish for you to prepare and roast, and taking his meals at your side as you both snipped at each other with sandy curse words. It was pleasant, this routine you’d fallen into together. But all the same, he never really stopped checking the ocean waters. And you could see a spark in his eyes, an itch. The same one that lit yours, no doubt, every time you caught yourself squinting for the outline of ships on the horizon.

The difference between the two of you, of course, was that in a few more days his scales would be healed enough to face the dangers of the open water alone. Life as a rogue mer was notoriously perilous. The lone Sirens were those that poachers were willing to risk battle with for a trophy. They were the ones caught in fishing nets, and found mauled by rival pods. But your Siren was smart. He was big, and strong, and impressive. He’d find a way to survive it, no doubt. One morning you’d wake up and he’d have darted off into the deep to search for his family. To go home. And you…

You would still be trapped here.

Alone.

Forever.

Rotting under the sun with no one to take you swimming in the afternoons. Or bring you clawed up fish to cook for dinner. Or to use your writing lessons just to insult you with scribbled words in the muck.

Which—that was what you’d wanted, wasn’t it? At the start of all of this.

And it was only fair, in the end. He was the better of the two of you, after all. Born and bred to thrive in the depths of the sea that would swallow you whole without a thought. And if either of you was going to survive, to find your home again, it was always going to be him. Maybe you’d be a story, like he would have been for you. The strange human with no ears, just like the rest of the pirates whispered about. Who taught him that fire could make fish extra tasty and that leaves could make perfectly serviceable plates if you tried hard enough.

You sighed, and bubbles of salt water frothed along your mouth.

The Siren raised his head from his own lazy sprawl to arch a brow at you in question, and you did the very mature thing of spitting water in his face all over again.

You ended up being dragged through the cove in a flurry of spitting, Siren rage. Laughing and laughing until he huffed and hauled you back to shore to keep you from swallowing any more seawater like the idiot that you were. And it was fine, really it was. He wasn’t so bad, not really. And if he was able to reunite with his pod once more after all those days of hollow wailing and pacing, pacing, pacing that had made something deep in your soul itch like a freshly scabbed wound that you just couldn’t stop picking, well, that wouldn’t be such a bad ending after all.

The next afternoon while you were out on your daily Octopus Wellness Check, you came across a piece of pale, purple sea glass mixed into the rocky shore. It was smooth to the touch and frosted over by the endless tumble of the tide. You held it up to the light and it sparkled just like the Siren’s scales.

“What do you think?” you asked the octopus as it grabbed shredded bits of fish with its chubby, little tentacles. “Do you want it? Or should I give it to—”

You blinked, startled, and realized all at once that you’d never learned the Siren’s name. Or given him yours. You’d just sort of been calling each other a variety of derogatory pseudonyms and hoping for the best. Which, huh. You hadn’t even realized you’d wanted to know his name. It wasn’t yours to take, of course. Let alone from someone who would no doubt be leaving so soon. But it was a thought.

“You always give the best advice, you know,” you told the teeny creature, and it hid from you like you were a great, looming monster of old. “Whether you meant to or not. Thanks for that.”

So on the way back to your cove, you picked through some tufts of beachgrass to find the longest, driest spikes. You began winding them together as you walked, and settled down in your favorite little corner of the inlet to continue your weaving. The Siren, naturally—being as nosy as he was—was immediately hovering over you like a child watching someone hold a bag of sweets just out of reach. You clutched your little project to your chest like a secret, and it had him puffing up in irritation and smacking his fins against your sides like your refusal to share whatever had caught your attention was a crime beyond comparison. He arched up as tall as he could to try and peer over your shoulder, and, in failing at that, just outright tried to snatch the thing from your hands.

“I won’t give it to you if you keep being a pest,” you warned, and immediately he was slipping back to rest on his stomach in the damp sand with a starbright curiosity in his eyes, chin pillowed atop his interlaced fingers and gaze following the movements of your hands like a cat tracking a mouse in its hole. Clearly the promise of it being a treat for him was mollification enough to keep him from hovering.

Once you’d braided a sturdy enough chain, you carefully twined it around the sea glass in a little, crisscrossing cage of fibers. Just knotted enough to keep the ocean-worn trinket safe and in place without hiding the shine of it. With that, you held up your trophy with a dramatic wave, and the Siren was popping up all over again. His amethyst glare tracked the swinging pendant with startling focus and a surprisingly wide-eyed spark of confusion.

“Here,” you said, reaching out to drop the makeshift necklace into his lap. He caught it in his claws, eyes still far too round with shock. “It made me think of your scales. I thought you might like it.”

He was staring down at the gift in utter silence. And not the normal sort of quiet either—where your broken eardrums simply refused to pick up on all his petulant grousing against your person. This was actual silence. His lips were parted like they were caught on a breath, but he wasn’t saying anything. Not even a complaint about how plain and ugly it was. He curled his claws daintily around the woven chain, as if he was afraid of tearing right through it with an accidental prick, and then held the sparkling bauble aloft like he was utterly entranced by the soft gleam of it.

After a long, long moment of that near eerie silence and a pool of dread filling your belly that screamed you’d clearly fucked up in some way (overstepped some weird, Siren tradition. Accidentally insulted his father. Handed him a bad luck omen on a string. Something), the Siren was twisting around to show you the back of his neck. He held up the woven chain so it draped along his shoulder blades, and he pointedly shook the ends at you.

When you just gaped back in shock, he turned to sneer over his shoulder at you and jabbed a claw at his throat, then the necklace, then you, then his throat again. Which, oh. Oh! That—that you could do.

So you reached out to pluck the ends of the grass-woven thread from his talons and he immediately shifted around again to make himself comfortable. Curling his tail firmly against the sand with his plum-lined fins spread out in all their glory like a spill of purple ink along the shoreline. He set his shoulders square and firm, and looked straight ahead with that same, queer sort of focus to him as before.

You tied the ends of the necklace in a bow against his nape, making sure it was securely fastened in place and not snagging any of the softer, shorter hairs at the back of his neck. Once it’d been fussed with to his liking, he turned back around and stared you down until you could feel goosebumps prickling up all along your spine. You wanted to meekly tell him that it was just sea glass. Just a little trinket you’d found in the sand that you’d thought was pretty enough that he might like to have it. But the words died on your tongue. They felt wrong somehow. And you’d put your foot in your mouth plenty of times throughout your life, but this definitely felt like it would have been the biggest boot of all.

“…You like it?” you tried instead, because that sentiment at least seemed less like something that was ready to clog up your throat.

The Siren nodded, firm, his eyes still drilling into yours with that unnerving level of focus.

You coughed into your fist and awkwardly attempted to shift away to give yourself a bit of room, and—Huh. When had his tail come up to wrap around your leg? That made running away a bit inconvenient. You’d just have to try and wriggle your way out and hope he would take mercy on your far inferior musculature, and—

There was a poke at your hip. Tap, tap, tap. One, two, three. And you glanced back up at him with a pinched frown, confused.

The Siren pointed to a scrawl in the sand. Tap, tap, tap.

Acceptable.

You gawked, and then swallowed a laugh so fast it nearly choked you. Because he was still himself, wasn’t he? No matter what. Sassy, asshole fish. Gods, you were going to miss him.

You wiped at the bubbling, giggling tears prickling at the corner of your eyes and reached out to pat at his tail in good humor.

“I hope you find your happy ending,” you beamed, and meant it.

The Siren just looked at you with one of his familiar, lemon-sour puckers. He pointedly reached up to flick at the necklace around his throat, like that had anything to do with him finding his family again at all. Like it wasn’t just some silly trinket you’d gifted him in hopes that maybe one day he could look back fondly on the little human that he’d found himself stranded with. To not just forget you outright. To make your fleeting presence in his life something tangible, rather than just a mess of already fading scars and memories that would too easily be swept away in the depths of the sea.

“At least it’s acceptable,” you said finally around your giggling, and he huffed at you in a way that almost looked fond. You stood from the sand and brushed the mess of grit and salt off your pant legs. “Come on. Let’s go have dinner and I’ll teach you some nicer words tonight. So you can give me a real compliment next time.”

There was spray of water all along your back from where he’d no doubt dove back into the shallows behind you and walloped you with his fins to the best of his ability. And honestly, you couldn’t find it in yourself to be bothered by it at all.

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dumbbitchgalore · 3 days

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Aphrodisiac chocolate ft. old man!Price 💕🍫

A few days ago, you receive a box of chocolates from your best friend. It was a black velvety box which almost seemed too sophisticated for a chocolate box. You couldn't help but remember the look on her face when she gave you the box. All winky and smily. At one point you thought that she either had a stroke or that her face got stuck in that position

Now a few days later, you stare at the same box in your fridge sighing softly. Most be one hell of a good chocolate if the box looks like that. You shrug your shoulders and open the box to see what the stroke-like face was all about.

You open the box and only see three divots where the chocolate is supposed to sit, except one is missing. Thinking John may have eaten one, you go to your shared bedroom to ask what it tasted like before you eat one yourself. You've always been skeptical of new desserts so you want to ask him before you tried it just incase it wasn't your cup of tea.

But when you enter the bedroom, you do not expect to find what you did

John Price, former SAS captain, in bed with his eyes screwed shut fisting his cock which looked painfully hard. You drink up the sight in front of you as you listen to his breathy pants and desperate grunts. You walk up to the edge of the bed and move the hair that's clinging to his forehead.

"Honey." You call out to him.

His doesn't stop his movements and just simply opens his eyes slightly, jerking his cock at a brutally fast pace,

"Sweetheart." He croaks out as if he's in pain.

You frown at his discomfort.

"What do you need, handsome?" You whispers softly.

And that was enough to have John manhandle you onto the bed, laying on your chest with your arse in the air. You gasp at his roughness but have never seen John like this before.

John simply moves your panties to the side and rams his cock inside of you. You yelp in shock but that soon turns into a moan when he starts fucking you.

Nice and deep. Hard and merciless. Fuck, this felt good. It felt too good. Your moans are salacious as they reverberate off the walls of your bedroom.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" You squeal.

John lets out a breathy laugh as he continues his brutal pace not stopping for a second. And poor you had your face smashed against the pillows but it's not like you mind it one bit. Your moans only get obsscenely louder

A few more thrusts and his cums so hard inside of you that you yelp at the new sensation. Hot, thick and sticky cum coating your insides. And at the same time you chant his name like a prayer as your orgasm hits you hard. John teasingly pulls out and with it, his cum starts to leak out of your hole. You pant and you go limp in bed. Damn, that felt good.

John chuckles, kissing your forehead. "Sometimes I wish that I could do all the time. You deserve being covered in my cum, birdie."

You chuckle hoarsely too. "I don't think I could keep up with you if you're like this all the time." You mumble softly.

He hums in agreement, laying down next to you as he rubs your back gently. "Those chocolates are something else, huh?"

Your eyes widen slightly.

Oh so that's what the chocolates are for.

#john price #john price cod #john price smut #john price x reader #captain john #cod smut #tf141 smut #captain price #john price x you #tf 141 x reader #ri's rants

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ecoamerica · 1 month

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youtube

Watch the 2024 American Climate Leadership Awards for High School Students now: https://youtu.be/5C-bb9PoRLc

The recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by student climate leaders! Join Aishah-Nyeta Brown & Jerome Foster II and be inspired by student climate leaders as we recognize the High School Student finalists. Watch now to find out which student received the $25,000 grand prize and top recognition!

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lovebugism · 2 days

Note

oh my god absolutely feral for the cynical prompt list PLEASE!!! maybe like bad at feelings/grumpy!r x steve with these vibes?:

• "you.. LIKE ME???" "i'm a little wary but so far, yes."

• "you're my favorite person. i didn't know you could have those."

• i love the idea that although they're cynical they would simultaneously not care to admit it ^ like "okay, yeah, i fell in love. so what???? people fall in puddles, and pools, and you know, other things!!! don't hold this against me!"

or literally anything from that list like i just know you’d eat

hope you like it angel xoxo — you tell steve you love him for the first time in front of all your friends who didn't even know you were dating (grumpy!r, fluff, 1.3k)

Eddie drops off a few Hellfire stragglers at Family Video after a lengthy campaign, you among them. Robin watches you file in with a freckled chin nestled in her palm. “Stevie! Your children are here!” she singsongs in the otherwise empty store, flipping unenthusiastically through an old magazine.

Dustin and Lucas grumble under their breaths about being called children, though you think they’re still very much deserving of the term. Eddie, meanwhile, crosses his leather-clad arms over his chest. “You know I’m older than him, right?” he monotones with squinted eyes. “So that’s, like, scientifically impossible.”

You deadpan from beside him, somehow more stoic than the raucously dressed metalhead. “And also, I’m dating him,” you frown. “So that’d be, like, extra weird.”

Everyone looks at you like you’ve grown two heads, then. Like you’ve just said something awful.

Steve’s presence saves you, but only for a moment. He comes out from the back wearing a stupid grin on his scruffy face. “Hey, babe,” he greets you first, with a wide hand spread warmly over your back.

When he ducks down for a fleeting kiss, you can taste the Cheetos he’d been snacking on and the wintergreen gum he’d just plucked into his mouth. The concoction is strange. Maddening, still.

All of your friends leer at you for several long moments. They gape at the two of you in horror, as though there was some kind of truth in what Robin had just announced moments ago — as though you and Steve shouldn’t be kissing at all.

“Wait,” Lucas mumbles, filling the heavy silence. His face twists in confusion a second later. “What?”

Eddie’s pale face contorts in something short offense, like you’ve betrayed him somehow. You sort of did, in a way. You’re Hellfire’s prettiest, grumpiest, weirdest member — you’re not supposed to be dating Steve The Hair Harrington. It goes against, like, every unwritten rule in the handbook.

“Is this why you wanted me to drop you off here?” he questions, palpably heartbroken. “So you two could— suck face?”

You shrug, emotionless. “Sorta.”

“We have a date tonight,” Steve announces with a proud smile. He squeezes gently at your shoulder, then cowers at the glare you give him. He clears his throat and corrects himself. “Not date.”

You’ve noticed his very strange tendency to call any time you spend together a date. You don’t like that. It makes you feel it’s some kind of appointment you have to book with him — an engagement you have to put too much effort into. Sometimes, you don’t want to go on a date. You just want to sleep over at his place, steal one of his shirts, and raid his kitchen in your underwear.

Eddie does everything but pout. “But I thought… I thought we came here to bother Steve until he let us take something home for free?” he confesses in a quiet voice.

“We can still do that if you want.”

“Yeah, but it’s not the same,” he frowns.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Robin shouts, abandoning her magazine and waving her hands in front of her face. “How did I not know about this?”

Steve bounces his shoulder, jostling the nametag pinned to his chest. “You don’t know everything about me, Buckley,” he sasses.

“So… you like him?” she presses, pointing to you and then the boy beside you. “You like Steve? Steve Harrington?”

You swallow hard and hope you don’t look as anxious as you feel. You shrug to feign an air of nonchalance. “I’m still a little wary about it, but, yeah… So far, anyway.”

Dustin’s senses return to him, then. He shakes his curly head in disbelief. “That is just… confounding,” he mumbles to himself.

“And how long has this been going on, exactly?” Robin squints.

“Couple months, I guess,” you monotone.

Steve has a much different, much more enthusiastic answer.

“Well, if we’re going by the first time I knew she liked me, it’s been five months. But if we’re going by the first time we kissed, it’s been four,” he rambles with his honey eyes flitted to the ceiling. “But if we’re going by the first time she actually admitted she liked me, it’s been… A wonderful six days.”

He flashes you a grin, which you meet with a hardened scowl. “Shut up…” you grumble, but don’t push him away when he cuddles you closer to his side.

“You? And Steve Harrington?” Eddie gapes. “You’re kissing?”

Steve scoffs. “Well, we’re dating Munson. So obviously we’re kissing. Among other things…”

You dig an elbow into his ribs to shove him away. “Do you have a death wish?” you spit, eyes narrowed and bitter, while the boy just chuckles to himself.

“It’s just… weird,” Dustin remarks.

“But, like, a good weird,” Lucas nods. “Like a solar eclipse, sort of weird.”

“Or, like, that one in a billion chance of atoms aligning and your hand going directly through a solid object, sort of weird,” the curly-haired boy adds, punctuating his sentence by slapping the front counter. His palm collides with the hard surface with a resounding thud.

“What did you think was gonna happen?” Steve monotones when Dustin winces.

“Well, impossible things happen all the time, Steve. Including now.”

You start to choke on the attention. The stares are borderline suffocating. A bunch of wide-eyed gazes holding yours until you feel like you can hardly breathe.

“What’s the big deal?” you blurt before you mean to. “We fell in love. Who cares? Dustin fell into a puddle earlier today— how’s that any different? People fall all the time.”

Dustin’s eyes narrow. “I thought we agreed not to bring that up.”

“Wait…” Steve mumbles, pink lips quirked in a crooked smile. His chocolate gaze glimmers with hope and confusion, eyes darting back and forth between yours. “You’re… You’re in love with me?”

“Yeah?” you shrug, trying not to cower at the way he looks at you. “So what?”

His grin widens. It takes everything in him not to kiss the life out of you then. He settles for a warm squeeze at your shoulder for now. “Nothing. Nothing, I just— I love you back. That’s all.”

The honeyed moment is ended bitterly by the sound of Eddie’s fake gagging. Robin gripes beneath the horrid noise, “You guys are gross…”

Lucas smiles. “I think it’s sweet.”

“Only ‘cause you’re more lovesick than these two idiots,” Eddie scoffs. He saunters away from you and takes the two Hellfire boys by the shoulder, leading them inevitably to the Sci-Fi section. Robin has no choice but to fix her frowning face and smile when a customer walks in.

With the crowd freshly dispersed, and the attention no longer on the two of you, you look up at Steve with a softer look than you’re used to. “Why did you look so shocked?” you murmur, eyes all squishy around the edges. “When I told you that I— that I loved you or whatever.”

“I wasn’t shocked,” Steve laughs and turns to face you fully. “I just… wasn’t expecting it, that’s all.”

You squint. “So you were shocked?”

“…I guess so. Yeah.”

“Well— you’re like— my favorite person or whatever,” you stumble over your words, finding it suddenly very difficult to meet his gaze. You gesture wildly with anxious hands. “And I didn’t even know you could have one of those, so… By that logic, I figured I must be in love with you.”

Steve grins, maybe bigger than he realizes. It’s all plush and pink and petaled, dripping with an adoration you’re not sure you deserve. “Well, by that logic, I must be in love with you, too, then, huh?”

“Guess so…” you grumble under your breath.

Steve smiles at the distant look of disgust scrunching your pretty face. “You’re so cute…” he mumbles under his breath, pressing a kiss to your pout before you can blink.

#published by bug #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #steve harrington #stranger things x reader #stranger things #stranger things imagine #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfiction #st drabbles #stevie drabble

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heich0e · 2 days

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thinking about single!dad osamu and little miya who calls you babe. the little guy is sitting in his favourite seat (his seat—as all the staff and regulars have come to call it) at the counter at onigiri miya one day after school. he's entertaining himself, colouring with some crayons that samu keeps behind the counter for him, while papa wraps up work for the day and chats with him.

but he's not particularly chatty today.

"hey, tiny," osamu calls, leaning over the counter to see what his son is working on. "yer awful quiet today."

he's barely made any progress on the picture of the onigiri godzilla destroying tokyo he'd been so excited about earlier.

"papa," his son says after a moment's consideration. "when's babe's day?"

osamu quirks a brow.

"babe's day?"

his son scrunches up his face a little, like he's thinking quite hard about it. "there's mother's day, 'n father's day. when's babe's day?"

osamu feels his heart squeeze in his chest, in affection as much as it is bittersweet. he's not altogether surprised by the question, considering father's day had just passed, but he's not sure he knows how to answer it either. he lifts his hand and adjusts his onigiri miya cap as he considers how to tackle the surprisingly complex question his four year old had put to him.

"well... there isn't a babe's day, buddy," samu starts, and immediately his son looks at him in abject horror at this shocking bit of news.

"but why?"

samu sucks a bit of air through his teeth. "well, not everyone has a babe. remember? we've talked about this."

osamu's son pouts a little. "but that's not fair."

"what's not fair?" samu leans against the counter on his elbows and cocks his head to the side.

"babe deserves a day too because we love her."

that pang in osamu's chest threatens to cleave him in two.

"yer right, buddy. we do love her, huh?"

samu's son bobs his little head in a somewhat sad nod.

samu reaches clear over the counter and plucks his son up from his seat, bringing him over to his side and resting him against his hip. the little boy grips his father's t-shirt as he clings to him, resting his head on osamu's shoulder.

"tell ya what," he whispers down to his son, bouncing him lightly, "how 'bout we make our own day fer babe?"

the little boy stares up at him with stars in his eyes. "really?"

"really," samu answers with a laugh. "you finish that picture fer her, 'n i'll get her some flowers, and then we'll make her breakfast in bed and take her out to do all her favourite things that day."

"when?" his son asks, wiggling excitedly in his grip. "when?"

samu racks his brain as he tries to recall what your schedule looks like in the coming weeks.

and then, in just the way you always seem to, you walk in right when they need you most. the bell above the shop door chimes signalling your entrance, and both of the miyas eyes go right to you—you smile brightly when you see them both.

"hi boys!" you call to them, waving as you approach.

"babe!" the littlest miya cheers, returning your wave excitedly.

samu leans down to whisper in his ear, quietly slipping onigiri godzilla off the countertop and tucking it away out of sight. "babe's day's gotta be a secret okay? don't spill it!"

his son nods determinedly, but truthfully osamu knows the secret is more than likely to be revealed before the big day. he smiles anyway, pressing a little kiss to his son's forehead.

little miya immediately reaches for you on the other side of the counter once you reach them, and you take him from his father's arms into your own—squishing him tightly before returning him to his seat and taking the one beside it (the one that now everyone has started calling yours.)

you fall into easy conversation with the two of them—samu stopping to chat whenever he can between customers—talking about your day and asking about theirs as samu serves you both your favourite onigiri.

"hey, babe," samu says as he sets a plate down in front of you, and you look up from the picture you and his son are making together with a smile and a hum. "you busy on saturday?"

he and his son share a secretive little look that's less than subtle. it makes you laugh.

"never too busy for you two," you answer easily, and beside you little miya grins.

"great," samu replies. "keep it free fer us."

a customer approaches the other side of the counter and osamu has to step away, but he can still overhear bits and pieces of your conversation with his son even as he goes about preparing a new order.

"...a surprise? for me?"

"mmmhmmm! cause we love babe lots and lots!"

samu laughs to himself as he tucks a small stack of napkins into the takeout bag, because his son couldn't be more right about that. he hands the takeout bag to the waiting customer with a smile, and turns to watch you and his little boy colouring away at your picture together as the afternoon light streams in through the shop windows behind you—nearly identical looks of concentration on your faces (though you don't have any stray rice stuck to yours.)

and he can't help but think he'd make every day babe's day if he could.

#osamu x reader #miya osamu x reader #hq drabble #hq writing #writing

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berryzxx · 3 days

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To Have And To Hold...Till Death Do Us Part

Azriel x reader

Summary: Azriel has spent decades centuries on trying to find his mate. A mate is supposed to be that one constant person in you're life. But as we all know Azriel was damned to an unlucky fate

Note: FIRST TIME WRITING ANGST be nice<3. also yes i will be reverting to fluff again. its my little cosy corner :) Also ty so so so much to @sarawritestories, literally an angel and helped me with this idea GO READ HER FICS BITCHES. @thelov3lybookworm, @fell-in-luvs @sweetorangeblossom @throneofsmut

@riddlesb1tch @milswrites TYSM for the help ily all. I'm never writing angst again <3

The dry, bland taste of the oats coated Azriel's tongue and he fought to swallow it down. A fight similar to his will to get out of bed every morning. Also similar to the fight of carrying on each day.

Mindlessly stirring his food which had now gotten cold he thought about what he would do for Star fall next week. Maybe he would get drunk so he wouldn't remember the night. Or maybe he would go up to the balcony to get the "best view" but in fact sulk in a corner because he didn't have a special someone to share the night with.

Pulling himself back to reality and berating himself for being ungrateful and forgetting about how much his family had done for him, Azriel watched one of his shadows depart and slowly move across the table until it had reached the open French doors. He tried calling it back but to no avail. Taking a deep breath Azriel continued eating, his shadows were always up to something. Maybe it was bringing back important information. Like maybe who his mate was.

His heart became heavy again at the thought. Still no mate. Azriel had seen so many things, lived through so much and sometimes he thought he deserved a mate. Sometimes when he wasn't so absorbed in self hate he thought to himself maybe he did deserve a mate like Rhys had Feyre or Cassian had Nesta. The thought left him as soon as it had appeared. He shook his head, he didn't deserve a mate. He would ruin her. He wasn't good enough. No where near good enough.

Scoffing at himself for even going down the path of thinking he out of all people could have a mate, he carried on eating his oats, finishing them in record time to get to training with the Valkyries and the priestesses.

***

"Isn't that your shadow?" Nesta asked pointing toward a lone shadow which was making it's way back in to the house, moving across the training ring floor and the edges of the walls before it disappeared completely. She was laying down on the mat, sweat dripping down her face. It had been an intense training session, Nesta having started to channel her anger into physical exercise resulted in Azriel having to hold the punching pads tighter than usual. He was happy for her. Glad she was better now and getting used to her fae body.

"It is" Azriel replied, his confusion increasing slightly. They were acting extremely strange. And the one that had left this morning still hadn't come back. Not to mention the shadows still with him were dancing around as if they were waiting for something. He shrugged it off. It was probably a new bakery or some drama from Velaris they had picked up on. Nosy pricks.

Nesta's silver eyes held concern, "Are you okay?" She bit her lip there was something like recognition in her eyes, as if she once held the same vacant stare that he did. "Are they usually like this?" Nesta questioned again, sitting up and trying to read his expression. He shook his head, flipping his water flask upside down to realise it was empty "They'll come back eventually"

She stood up and brushed her clothes down "You could get it checked. I heard Madja's working late today"

Azriel tried not to get angry. It wasn't as if she would know how it was basically impossible for any healer to ever help him.

"We'll see" He replied instead, already brushing the idea away. All he'd get was an afternoon wasted and a whole lot of poking at his back and wings. It wasn't that big of a deal. Well...that's what he hoped.

***

Flipping the dagger in his hand he began to sharpen the other side, making sure it was as sharp as possible so it would make a clean cut. He didn't need more blood on his hands. Well more than usual anyway. Looking to his right he saw Cassian stretching out his wings and yawning "I'm off to bed. Don't stay up past your bedtime" He grinned. Azriel shook his head a smile on his face even though the joke wasn't funny.

"I won't" Azriel lied. Cassian looked at him for longer than usual as if trying to figure something out. Of course he didn't. Azriel's secrets were too well hidden.

"I'm here if you ever need to talk" Cassian said resting a hand on his shoulder. Azriel gave him a rare smile and patted his hand "I know brother"

Leaving him to sit peacefully on the roof Azriel looked up at the sky. Automatically his eyes searched for the one star constellation he loved. Lyra it's name was. His mother had pointed it out to him when he was young. Said it was one of the constellations that would never leave him. Sometimes it felt like this constellation was the only stable thing in his life. Something that would never leave him and so far it was living up to it's reputation.

***

All fucking night his shadows had been restless, moving about and not letting him get one minute of sleep. Yes he ran on 4 hours of sleep perfectly fine but his shadows didn't even let him close his eyes for one minute without being irritating. Not to mention his shadows from previously hadn't come back. What the fuck was their problem?

Finally giving up he went down to the kitchen, drank a glass of water and stomped upstairs on to the balcony. His shadows were still making incessant noises and moving around too much for this early in the morning. Azriel walked over to the edge of the roof, standing on the edge and freefell down down down.

The air hit him at the perfect angle and gods did he wish he could keep falling. If he hadn't opened his wings at the right time he would have died but who really cared? It was just him after all.

He flew over Velaris, the sun barely visible resulting in a still and quieter city at this time. Not to mention it was Saturday, most of the fae probably nursing their hangovers right now. He veered left toward the Sidra, going past Feyre's bright and cosy artists corner, following his shadow at a leisurely pace as it stopped in front of what seemed to be a row of houses. They were bright and colourful, pale pinks and bright blue's, pleasing to look at. Settling on the roof of a house opposite them he watched the sun rise, his shadows finally calm. It felt like his heart was calm too.

A few minutes of sitting led to one of the rooftop doors opening and......and Azriel couldn't describe what and who stepped out.

She was a goddess.

She was the fulfilment of his dreams.

She was the most ethereal fae he had seen.

She was...gods words couldn't describe her never ending beauty. Moving toward her flowers towards the right of the roof she began to water them, her soft brown hair falling forward and covering her face slightly. His heart hurt. He didn't know why.

He could stare at her for an eternity. Her green eyes sparkled in the sunlight, her pink lips looked like they could say the sweetest words. Like they could soothe any pain he had from one whisper of her sweet voice. He swallowed.

He wanted to talk to her. Enjoy her company. Make her smile. Make her laugh. Watch as her eyes brightened because of him.

He could change. For her he could, he thought to himself as she stood up from watering the roses and looked at the sun rise too.

Her cheeks held a slight blush, hair dishevelled as though she had just gotten out of bed. Azriel was cataloguing each and every thing about her, storing it into his memory to cherish.

Clenching his fists and readying himself, memorising what he would say to this oh so gorgeous female he extended his wings.

Softly landing behind her, he felt like his tongue was twisted. Her hair fell in waves down her back, her arms wrapped around herself.

Taking a deep breath he cleared his throat. She whipped round and it felt like time stopped.

Her hand rested on her chest and her eyes were wide with surprise. Beautiful. That was all that went through his mind as he drank her in, looking at each and every perfect feature.

"Who are you?" His heart felt like it would burst from happiness. Her voice was music to his ears. She had straightened up slightly, her shocked expression gone as she patiently waited for Azriel to speak. He didn't want to. What if he messed it up?

"Azriel. Sorry I....I didn't mean to invade your privacy I-" He cleared his throat cursing under his breath for his stupid twisted tongue. Her lips turned up in a small smile as if she was encouraging him, waiting for him to finish. Like she actually cared for what he had to say.

"I just saw you watching the sunset- not that I was watching you...I meant I just saw you here-" A small laugh escaped her as she watched him struggle. He knew one thing. It was that his heart was no longer his. It was hers. His soul belonged to her. His broken and bloody soul was hers however much it had gone through.

Falling in love was impossible he used to think but looking at her now, he thought it possible.

He was so busy in trying to memorise her face he didn't realise his shadows from earlier swirling around her wrists and waist as if they had found their home.

"It's alright. Lets watch the sunset together, the view's gorgeous from here" Her soft voice beckoned him closer and as she turned back around her arm knocked one of the vases. She turned around trying to grab it and in that split second, she fell.

Over the roof and down to where Azriel couldn't see her.

His heart raced as he ran to the edge and jumped down onto the concrete floor, using his wings to slow his descent.

He had heard the sickening thud when she had fallen but he refused to believe it.

He watched as her lifeless body lay there.

Still.

The life in her completely gone. Silence rang in his ears, his throat closed up, he wanted to rip out his heart. Why?

Why?

Why was all he could think about it as he looked at her broken form. Blood pooled from her head, a puddle of deep red gathering around her hair. His shadows swarming around her, frantically trying to do something.

Maybe if he weren't so useless. Maybe if he had any dignity or shame he wouldn't have stared on and could have helped her. It felt like his voice was lost.

He looked at her dead eyes and when he did it snapped. The golden thread sparkling between the two of them, connecting them, before dying out again. The moment of completeness vanished in a split second.

Mate.

She was his mate.

He let out a tortured scream, his own voice ringing in his ears. His legs weakened as he dropped to the ground next to her, his energy depleted.

Tears slipped down his face and for the first time he didn't wipe them away. Didn't berate himself for crying because this....this was a tragedy everyone should have cried over. But instead it was only him watching her once smiling face lay face down on the concrete.

Why was it him? He hadn't even gotten to see her smile properly because of him. Hadn't been able to hear her speak completely. Hadn't heard the sweet words she was sure to voice if he ever got the chance to get to know her.

His eyes wouldn't leave her body as he choked out sobs, eyes blurry and wanting to look away from her limp body at the same time. His....His mate.

The word left him feeling empty. All he wanted was right in front of him except she was gone. She was dead and it was because of him.

His hands shook, his control slipping away as time passed, slowly reaching for her. He gently touched her hair ever so softly as if maybe she were sleeping and she would wake up. Slowly moving it to the side, he could finally see her beautiful beautiful face. A face which had been removed of all colour and life.

A strangled sound escaped him as he looked on unable to tear his eyes away. His heart fractured into so many pieces he didn't know what he'd do anymore. How could he live without her? Life wasn't worth living without her.

His mate.

Tears made his vision blurry as he tried to memorise her perfect features. She was a poem he would never be able to memorise. She was the dream he was always so far from reaching. She was his except she wasn't. Not anymore. Because she was gone.

He wished he could take her place. Wished he had died after seeing his mate. He would have died happy. Finally would know what true happiness was before dying.

Any alternate way of living his heart didn't know how to. Without her in his life he couldn't search for any reason for continuing on.

Gods he didn't even know her name. At the thought of this his lips pressed together trying to stop the heart wrenching scream he wanted to release. He didn't even know her damn name.

His mate.

His mate who was lying dead in front of him. Looking down at his hands he saw they were shaking, so was his body. He didn't deserve to live. This perfect female in front of him wasn't able to live her life so why should he, a broken and unlovable torturer?

The glint of his dagger beckoned to him. It would be oh so easy to end things now. Stab himself through the heart and lay down, lifeless just like his mate. At least they would die together. Taking out his dagger he looked at. Really looked at it.

The fates had known.

This was why he had sharpened his dagger. For this exact reason.

If his mate didn't deserve to live neither did he. He lifted the dagger, tears streaming down his face, his heart broken in too many places to fix, no one left for him in this world. Looking at his mates face for the last time he pushed the dagger straight into his heart.

Fitting ending he supposed. After all the killing he had done, he had ended his own life. Blood seeped from the stab wound but he didn't care. He tried to touch her face one last time, extending his hand, but he couldn't. Because he had collapsed onto the cold floor next to her, unable to touch her for the first and last time.

He was damned. His fate was unlucky.

He was a bastard who didn't deserve anything.

Without even realising his shadows had left him too.

"LYRA" A heart wrenching scream echoed in his ears as the blood emptied out his body. That was his mate's name.

Lyra

If he were still alive he would have smiled and cried at the irony of it all but he wasn't. His eyes now stared straight up as his heart no longer pumped blood.

A fae walking past would see it as a tragedy but it was more than that. It was a man who would never get a happily ever after no matter how much he wished for it. It would be a story passed down to generations. A story with no happy ending.

***

If only Azriel had known that he was in fact loved. That he did have people that held him close to their heart

If only he had known.

Rhys who was waiting in his meeting room for their debrief.

Cassian who had set up a game of chess for him and Azriel to play.

Nesta who thought up new techniques for fighting that she would show him the next morning.

Feyre who was painting his portrait in her art studio.

Nyx who was waiting for his favourite uncle to come home so they could fly together.

Little did they know Azriel would never come home again.

....first and last time writing angst :) if u can even call it that

->Masterlist <-

tagging: @hijabi-desi-bookworm @lilah-asteria @fxckmiup @minnieoo

@kennedy-brooke @daycourtofficial

#berrywrites #azriel angst #azriel #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x oc #azriel x reader angst #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel acotar #acotar series #azriel fanart #acotar azriel #azriel shadowsinger x reader #azriel shadow singer x y/n #azriel spymaster #acosf #acotar fanfiction #acotar fic #acotar x reader

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not-magdi · 2 days

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-daddy won! / dad!lando norris

Warnings: None, just some heavy fluff

Words: 1k

Reading Time: 4 min 14 sec

A/N

I know I'm a bit late to the trend, but I wanted to celebrate Landos incredible win with this. Hope you enjoy it,

Love y'all Magdi <3

Part one | Part two

Ever since Henry was old enough to travel, Lando insisted on taking him to every single grand prix with him, claiming he was his lucky charm. The first few races were hell for you. Being a new mum in the hectic place called the paddock was nothing but pure stress for you. But after some time to adjust, you started to enjoy being back at the races again, cheering for your man and overall having a good time with your small family.

After being together with Lando for over five years, you started not letting your nerves get through the roof at every single race, but currently, your heart was beating out of your chest as you saw Lando begin his final lap in front of everybody else. After all these years, all these podiums and that one moment in Sochi, which we all agree to forget, the day has finally come. Lando Norris is about to win his first-ever Grand Prix! And it couldn't be more deserved.

You didn't even realize Lando already crossed the finish line, the shouting and cheering from Lando's team members pulled you out of your thoughts. Henry became restless on your lap, as if he knew his daddy just won his first grand prix.

"Oh my god," you whisper to yourself, grabbing Henry, you turn him towards you and kiss his nose and little rosy cheeks. "Daddy won! My baby your daddy just won!" Henry squealed in your arms, giving you a wide, toothless grin, throwing his little arms in the air. As if he had any clue what you were talking about.

Jon, Zak and Andrea all came over to hug and congratulate you. Zak then whisked you and Henry away to rush to the podium so you could finally see your race winner.

And there he was, his face red, hair completely dishevelled and the biggest smile on his face you have only ever seen once, and that was on Henry's birth.

It took Lando some time to come to you as every driver came over to congratulate him, a sight you found incredibly heartwarming. But after getting weighed, he finally turned to you and his team. Running towards you guys, he jumps into the awaiting hands of his team, who held him up, celebrating and congratulating him. You stood a bit aside from all that, not wanting Henry to be in the middle of such a large crowd.

Lando was then let down by his mechanics, and the second he saw you, he jumped over the fence, embracing his little family in his arms. After you broke apart, you grabbed Landos face with your free hand and gave him a deep kiss.

"Hi baby." Lando whispered, pulling his forehead against yours.

"H-hi." You laughed, feeling the tears run down your face.

"I'm so proud of you Lan, so proud." You sobbed, unable to hold back your emotions.

"Thank you, baby, I couldn't have done it without you, without you two."

You and Lando looked at the little baby boy in your arms, who didn't have a clue what was going on but had the biggest smile you have ever seen. Lando whisked his son out of your arms, smothering his face in kisses, which resulted in Henry giggling and squirming in his arms.

One of the FIA staff members then told Lando that he had to get to the interview. Lando wanted to give Henry back to you, but the little boy seemed pretty comfortable in his daddy's arms and didn't want to be held by you.

Lando then asked if he could take Henry with him to the podium. You weren't quite sure at first, but Lando pulled out his puppy dog eyes, and it was game over for you.

"So Lando congratulations on your win, seems like you have brought a little guest with you." The interviewer started.

"Yes, thank you. This is my little son, Henry. I thought the best way to celebrate the second most important achievement in my life is to take my most important achievement with me. Isn't that right baby?"

Lando looked down at Henry, who was currently sucking on his pacifier, looking at his daddy with big eyes, grabbing his face with his little hand.

"I take that as a yes!" The interviewer laughed and continued with the interview.

Afterwards, it was time for the podium, and everybody was crowded beneath the podium, waiting for your boyfriend to collect his well-deserved trophy.

And there he was, going up to the top step with your little baby boy in his arms, both of them having the same smile on their face. The ceremony was absolutely beautiful. Hearing the British anthem and seeing Lando receiving his trophy had you in tears the whole time.

Lando disappeared before the champagne shower, not wanting Henry to get wet with alcohol.

-----

It was now late in the evening, and Henry was absolutely knackered and had already fallen asleep in the car, so now he was sound asleep in his crib. You and Lando were cuddling in bed, reminiscing about the day today.

"You know, you could have really gone out to celebrate today Lando, I really wouldn't have minded."

"I know, but I am exactly where I want to be, with my family. There isn't a place in the world where I'd rather be right now."

His statement made tears roll over your face again. Whipping them away, you chuckle and cuddle yourself deeper into Lando's embrace.

"These damm hormones make me so overly emotional again, Jesus Christ." You chuckle out, whipping over your eyes again.

It took Lando some minutes to comprehend what you just said. "Wait a second, are you pregnant again?!"

"Y-yeah, I found out about it yesterday morning", you laugh as Lando nearly throws himself on top of you, showering you in kisses and cuddles.

"Oh my God, oh my god, oh my god. This is incredible, your incredible! I love you so much baby." Lando exclaims, his voice breaking mid-sentence.

"I love you too Lan, so much."

"This is one of the best days in my life, honestly now!"

That night, you fell asleep, Landos hands both under your (his) shirt, stroking your still flat belly. Both of you, dreaming about the future you will have in 9 months as a family of four.

--------

Don't forget to leave a note if you enjoyed it, feedback is always welcome !❤️

#lando imagine #lando x reader #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #lando norris #lando norris x y/n #lando norris oneshot #lando norris fanfic #dad! lando norris #dad!lando #dad!driver #mclaren #formula 1

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ecoamerica · 2 months

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youtube

Watch the American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 now: https://youtu.be/bWiW4Rp8vF0?feature=shared

The American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 broadcast recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by active climate leaders. Watch to find out which finalist received the $50,000 grand prize! Hosted by Vanessa Hauc and featuring Bill McKibben and Katharine Hayhoe!

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i2sunric · 2 days

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thoughts about ceo! heeseung after a hard day of work came back and became angry because you were too busy and didnt welcome him. so then you got what you deserve, a punishment.

AHHHHH abshabsha

BABY, DON’T LIKE IT (l.hs)

warnings: heeseung ceo drabbles. rough sex, unprotected sex (don’t be silly, wrap your willy), degrade kink, p in v, boundage, pet names (slut), if more lmk. NOT PROOFREAD.

Heeseung was always a hard worker, he did his best from five am until later than eight pm, meeting and greeting costumers and business partners.

So when he comes home he expects you to welcome him, shower him with kisses and cuddles— but that day, when he entered the house he was met with cold air and dead silence.

You knew he came back around that time so where the hell were you?

“Y/N?” He called you, searching here and there but finding only empty rooms. He groaned, taking his phone to call you, it being sent right away to voice mails.

Anger boiled in his veins, the frustration from both the company and worrying about your well-being drove him insane.

It was no surprise that when you came home, claiming you were out to buy groceries, Heeseung tied you to the bed with his tie, thrusting his cock inside of you at full speed.

You were a whimpering mess, all sweaty, moaning incoherent words “Ngh— T-Too much.”

“Fucking take it.” Heeseung granted, lightly slapping your tit “I expect you to be here when I come home,” He thrusted deep, hitting your sweet spot with every movement “Do you understand? Or are you so stupid you can’t even do that?”

You just moaned in response, his degrading comments added to the sound of skin slapping just made you clench around him.

Heeseung held your hips with one hand while the other wrapped around your neck “You’re just my little fuck toy.” He groaned.

“A slut who I can fuck whenever I want, right baby?” He cursed under his breath, feeling himself twitch inside of you.

“Heeseung— I’m gonna cum.” You warned, your eyes rolling back at the amount of pleasure he was giving you.

“Don’t you dare.” He slapped your cheek just to take your jaw in his grasp afterwards “You don’t deserve to cum, do you now?”

“Please.” You breathed out, trying to hold your orgasm “Please— I can’t—“ You gasped, falling apart under him, your body shaking and back arching.

Heeseung stopped his movements, letting you calm down from your high. He looked at you with wild eyes as he pulled out, making you moan in disappointment.

“You’ve been such a bad girl.” He hovered in front of your face, hard cock so angry, erected in front of your vision, making you lick your lips “And bad girls deserve punishments.”

Heeseung took his cock with his hand, pumping it, spreading your cum and juices along with his leaking pre-cum, smearing it on your lips “Now suck it and make me feel good.”

#casey’s talks <3 #enhypen #enhypen smuts #enhypen smut #heeseung #lee heeseung smut #lee heeseung #heeseung smut #heeseung hard hours #heeseung hard thoughts #heeseung drabbles #enhypen drabbles #enhypen x reader #enhypen headcanons #heeseung x reader

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babyleostuff · 13 hours

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up. and down

𝜗𝜚 angst, established relationship 𝜗𝜚 idol!seungcheol x fem!reader 𝜗𝜚 wc: 818 warnings: mentions of mental health issues, depression, oldest daughter syndrome

natalia's note: this is something very self indulgent, and as much as i'm kind of afraid to post it (partially because it's shitty as hell, and not proofread) writing it was a bit healing. whoever is struggling out there as well - i just want you to know that you're a fucking badass

everyone has their better and worse days. life is just a constant sinusoid of going up and down, up and down.

up. and down.

this was definitely one of your downs. but it was also one of those where you couldn’t explain why you were feeling so down. so numb. so washed out of everything. nothing bad really happened that day - you didn’t oversleep, no one spilled coffee on you, everyone you encountered was nice and polite. maybe the weather was a bit gloomy, but you knew it had nothing to do with the way you were feeling.

yet, as you were walking up the stairs to your apartment, all you could focus on was the emptiness in your chest, the heart that was beating way too fast for it to be normal, the tears threatening to spill, and your shaky hands that were clutching the door keys for dear life.

and you felt so guilty for that. you didn’t know why, but you did.

you tried telling yourself that you weren’t weak, that it was valid for you to have a worse day, and not feel guilty about it - but you just couldn’t. nothing happened for god’s sake, you didn’t have a single reason for the tears that were pooling in your eyes, so how could you call yourself anything but weak?

“hey, honey. you’re home early,” you looked up to see your boyfriend standing in the hallway, with a big smile on his face. the exact one that could usually turn the shittiest days into the best ones. but not today.

it made you feel even worse. seungcheol was one of the best things that could ever happen in your life. he was caring, loving, he’d move the mountains for you if he had to. he was the most hardworking man you’d ever met, and he never complained, no matter how hard it got.

you didn’t want him to see you like this. ever. you didn’t want to show the light of your life your ugly side, the one that could rot in bed for days because it had no energy to get up and take a shower. the one that cried for hours for no reason. the one that sometimes felt like giving up was the only solution.

you cleared your throat, trying to push everything away for the sake of your boyfriend. “hey, baby. what are you doing here, shouldn’t you be at work?”

“yeah, but,” he narrowed his eyes, and took in your form, “they let us go early today,” he said after a quick pause. of course in that split of a second he sensed that something wasn’t right. as if you could ever hide anything from him. “what’s wrong?”

“nothing,” you wanted to scream. nothing happened, except that your lungs didn’t let you breathe, and your heart was too heavy to beat properly.

“i don’t know,” you finally admitted, and shrugged your shoulders. that’s when the first tear fell. “i don’t know what’s wrong, cheol,” your voice broke.

seungcheol didn’t say anything else, he just walked up to you, and put his arms around you, caging you in an embrace that you knew so well. everything was so familiar - his gentle yet firm touch, the smell of his cologne, his slightly chapped lips resting against your temple - and still you felt like an intruder. like you didn’t deserve it.

“you know i love you, right?” though his voice was quiet, you could hear it was slightly shaky. “your friends love you,” he said, and slid one of his hands from your back up to your head, cupping it. “and kkuma loves you. very much.”

you choked on a sob, and hid your face further up seungcheol’s neck.

“i know you don’t see yourself like that,” you could feel something wet sliding down your neck, and for some reason you knew that the tears weren’t only your own, “but you’re so strong. you really are.”

by now you were gripping onto cheol’s shirt like it was the last thing that could keep you afloat. you didn’t care about the tears anymore. you didn’t care about the broken cries. you just wanted to stay like this forever.

“why am i like this? why can’t my mind just leave me alone?” you cried, your shoulders shaking.

“i don’t know, baby. i don’t know.”

and so you stood in the hallway of your apartment, with a very confused white fluff ball at your feet, till you had no more tears left to cry.

life is just a constant sinusoid of going up and down, up and down.

up. and down.

even though your down may seem like a dark path with no way out, like a never ending circle of tears and pain, you have to keep fighting, because you have people worth fighting for.

and most importantly - you have to keep fighting for yourself.

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gi4hao · 2 days

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ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི₊ ⊹ ˎˊ- how they make you feel beautiful

ot13 x reader — some mentions of insecurities

a/n: don’t mind me pushing the taking-pictures-as-a-love-language agenda for wonu, as always

— seungcheol: with gifts

with him, gifts for no particular reason are much more frequent than gifts for a specific occasion. he doesn’t like to come home empty handed and always says you deserve all the pretty things in the world. if he ever buys you a piece of clothing or jewelry, then he’ll be the happiest man on earth every time you wear it, showering you with compliments a little bit more than usual just because he loves spoiling you <3

— jeonghan: with specific compliments

every variation of color in your irises, the micro expressions on your face, the way your laugh slightly varies depending on what’s provoking it: whether it’s something new or not, jeonghan will compliment the slightest details in your appearance or your personality. sometimes he begins with a “did i ever tell you…”, and you know you’re about to hear the sweetest thing ever. like, “did i ever tell you how dreamy you look in that light? i can’t stop looking at you,” and even though he’s just talking about the orange-ish hues of your bedside lamp, you know he’s being 100% honest.

— joshua: by saying it out loud

“you’re the prettiest” while you’re brushing your teeth, “you look so gorgeous” when he’s picking you up in his car, or just your usual “hey beautiful” when you wake up in the morning. he never gets tired of saying it and you never get tired of hearing it. he barely uses your name anymore because he’s so used to calling you ‘beautiful’. the man is so smitten he could spend hours flirting with you, years into the relationship. and it’s even better if you’re easily flustered because he loves how shy you get when you hear those words…

— jun: with cuddles

there’s something about the way his fingers mindlessly trace your silhouette that makes you feel like the most delicate sculpture ever. you could just be cuddling in silence, reading a book or scrolling on your phone, and his hands will gently brush against your skin like they were made to do that and nothing else. sometimes you feel like returning the favor, but although he doesn’t mind it at all, it’ll never come close to how much he loves cherishing you with his cuddles.

— hoshi: by being your #1 hypeman

even though you’re someone that brings hoshi a lot of peace and serenity, your mere existence also gets him very excited for no apparent reason. the way he hypes you up whenever you’re getting ready to go out together is similar to the way people cheer for their favorite sports team. he’s celebrating two things: you being absolutely gorgeous, and him being lucky enough to be your partner. “honestly, if i saw you walking down the street without being the one dating you… i think i’d start crying.”

— wonwoo: by taking pictures

it’s not just him taking pictures that makes you feel beautiful, it’s the way he treats his photographs as if they’re the most precious things he owns. he regularly makes sure that they’re synchronized on his personal icloud account in case he ever loses them (it’s very serious to him). but also, he keeps a picture of you on his desk, in his wallet, as his phone wallpaper… and everyone thinks it’s the sweetest thing ever. the guys tried to tease him for it at first, but they quickly gave up because even they had to admit it’s an adorable way to express his love for you.

— woozi: with meaningful looks

it’s a rare occurrence to catch woozi in the act of being incredibly down bad for you. but it sometimes happens when you notice him looking at you with heart-shaped eyes and a smile tugging at his lips. you could be sitting on the other side of a room and his gaze would still find you in a second, lingering for a few seconds just to appreciate your beauty. he said so himself actually, when you asked him why he was looking at you so frequently. “everyone likes looking at beautiful things,” he replied very naturally, not picking up on the squeal you had to hold back.

— dokyeom: by talking about you

“y/n would love that”. “this would look amazing on y/n”. “oh look, y/n just sent me a pic!”. it’s a daily occurrence, and everyone knows they just have to deal with it. some boyfriends might try to gatekeep their partner: that’s not dokyeom’s case at all. in fact, people better be complimenting you in front of him! to be honest, he was talking about you non-stop before you guys even started dating, which is why you barely had to introduce yourself to his friends. you’re one of his proudest accomplishments and he wants the whole world to know about you!!

— mingyu: with kisses

there’s nothing like being kissed by mingyu to feel a sudden boost of self-confidence. his hands gently cupping your cheeks, the way he looks at you in between kisses and the growing smile in his eyes and on his lips… everything in his behavior seems tailor-made to make you feel like a vision of heaven. it doesn’t always have to be kisses on your lips tho, sometimes it’s on the back of your hand, on your shoulder or on your temple. but no matter where his lips touch your skin, they always convey just how much he cherishes you and every inch of your body.

— minghao: by drawing you

no other representation of yourself makes you feel as self-confident as minghao’s drawings of you. at first you were a bit taken aback by the feeling of seeing yourself through someone else’s perspective in such a raw way. but you got used to it pretty quickly, mostly because of how often minghao uses you as a reference. when you take a closer look at them, you realize his drawings are filled with details that not only depict your looks, but also traits of your personality. slowly but surely, you start to believe in the beauty he consistently finds in you, and that’s enough to let him know he’s doing a perfect job.

— seungkwan: by complimenting your insecurities

he doesn’t do it that often because he doesn’t want it to be the only thing he compliments you on. but seungkwan is very attentive to the way you perceive yourself so he will guess your insecurities even if you don’t talk about them out loud. therefore, he’ll find subtle ways to compliment them without making it too obvious. sometimes it’s not even out loud, it might just be by gently brushing against a body part you’re not confident in, or hyping you up in an outfit that doesn’t hide your insecurity. no matter how he does it, it always comes with such kindness and love that you have no choice but to feel a bit prettier than you did seconds ago.

— vernon: by paying attention

it sounds silly but it’s true. vernon pays attention to everything, from the colors you look most confident in, to what kind of compliments seem to work best on you. and later on, he’s able to adapt his behavior accordingly, to make you feel as good as possible in any situation. “you always know exactly what say, i don’t know how you do it,” you once told him, almost teary from how sweet he was being. “well, the fact that you strongly underestimate how beautiful you are is an insanely good motivation,” he replied, gently wiping the tears under your lash line.

— dino: by showing you off

he considers you the rarest gem of all, so yes of course he will show you off to whoever’s near! he’s the type of boyfriend that will enter a room before you just because he wants to do jazz hands for your entry. and he has such a smug look on his face when you two are out together, it’s like he’s in a permanent state of pride just because you’re holding hands in public. and although he’s not huge on pda, he has no problem complimenting you out loud in front of other people, and you find yourself on his instagram stories on a regular basis, which makes your self-esteem go up a notch every single time.

REQUESTS ARE OPEN!

#seventeen x reader #seventeen fluff #scoups x reader #jeonghan x reader #joshua x reader #jun x reader #hoshi x reader #wonwoo x reader #woozi x reader #dokyeom x reader #mingyu x reader #seungkwan x reader #minghao x reader #vernon x reader #dino x reader #seungcheol x reader

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hanasnx · 1 day

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" DOUBLE BUBBLE DISCO QUEEN " — katsuki bakugou.

MINORS DNI 18+ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ WARNINGS: fem bratty pink!reader ノ pussy whipped bakugou ノ established relationship ノ explicit sexual content ノ p in v ノ degradation: f receiving ノ reader has pink hair and pink style.

KATSUKI BAKUGOU didn’t know what to make of you at first. He’d never admit you were intimidating, but your commitment to one color made him nauseous. Pink was everything he saw you sport, as if you couldn’t have a style outside of it. Even your hair sprouted from your scalp in a soft pink shade. Regardless of his initial apprehension, somehow he was roped into a relationship with you. Now he carries your many bags, opens doors for you, holds your hand when you start yapping too much. You annoy him, and yet he sticks with you.

He’s come to respect you, and even like you a little bit. Not that you give him any choice. He can’t be fooled by your soft appearance, you’re just as domineering as he is. You’re spoiled rotten, and high maintenance as hell. It’s taken him loads of tries to get it right, to treat you exactly how you believe you deserve to. It’s difficult—next to impossible—but you make it worth it, don’t you?

When you spread those legs, all pretty and eager for him, things go quiet. For once, things go his way. Katsuki’s never considered himself to be a pussy-driven guy until he met you. Suddenly, he’s letting you bully him into all kinds of things just for a glimpse of that kitty. He’d feel shame if his mouth wasn’t watering right now staring down at those drippy lips, open and waiting for him.

“C’mon, Katsu. Wanna feel you.” you whine with a coy smile to your lips, impatient and brows upturned. Just as you wiggle your hips enticingly, mean and callused hands envelope them, pinning your ass to the mattress.

Gripping the base, he feeds himself into your hole, sniffing out the give until you moan just from the stretch, and he sighs with goddamn relief. As if he’s finally getting payback for everything you throw at him. You’re a damn bitch, and you know he thinks so, but getting this tight cunt gives you a blank slate. After he’s good and fucked his fill, he’ll be ready to take your attitude again. For now, he keeps a palm over that smart mouth of yours, just so you don’t ruin the moment.

“Mmf—“ he grunts, scooping an arm under your knee to pick your leg up, giving himself a little more room inside you. “Even this princess pussy’s a brat…Clenching down on me.” he speaks through his teeth, rutting in and out to hollow out a space for himself. “You’re more trouble than you’re worth, you know that?” A bold-faced lie, but you take it anyway, nodding to him. Anything to get him to keep going, anything to get him to make you loosen up so he can fuck you for real. His palm over your mouth remains, and you smell his sweet scent of sweat.

“Running me ‘round, dangling this cunt in front of me knowing I’ll do whatever for it. Tch, you’re so damn annoying.” His words in your ear sends a powerful shudder down your spine, fluttering your eyelashes. You slick, lubing up his entry as he keeps pushing in and in. Even without seeing his face, breathing hard through your nose over his third pinky knuckle, you can feel him grin next to you. You know it's wolfish just from the sound of his reply, “You like hearing that shit, huh?” His husky voice grates your ears and you whimper pitifully under his weight.

His hips increase their fervor, getting excited over the new room in your hole, setting an immediate bruising pace just to be a jerk.

“For someone so spoiled, struttin’ ‘round like you can buy anything you want with daddy’s money, you sure like gettin’ called out on it.” That's what he's here for.

@HANASNX 2024 | do not copy, plagiarize, or steal.

#[🃏]#ch: katsuki #indy: drabbles #katsuki bakugou drabble #katsuki bakugou smut #katsuki bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugou x fem reader #bakugou katsuki smut #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou smut #bakugou x reader #katsuki smut #katsuki x reader #bakugo katsuki x reader #bakugo katsuki smut #bakugo smut #bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugou x you #reader insert

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ffsg0jo · 2 days

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𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭

character :: higuruma x fem reader

warnings :: fluff, mentions of death/ghosts, allusions to depression, children, pregnancy, higuruma has low self esteem sometimes, kissing, cute kids

w/c :: 1000

a/n :: thank you so so much @xodapawp for sending this request. it was written as a part of my fics for gaza commissions that im doing. if you enjoyed it and would like to donate to gaza, then please check out the linked post for more information and @ficsforgaza too !!

life was fleeting, something hiromi knew all too well. things could change in mere seconds, time slipping like sand between one’s fingers. the tighter he tried to hold onto it, the faster the streams ran, leaving behind bitter, salty grains.

guilt weighed on his shoulders with the intensity of a thousand suns, blinding his view and blurring the lines between sense and nonsense. the wax wings on hiromi’s shoulders melting, facilitating his spiralling descent. deeper and deeper he fell into the endless abyss of his mind. he was helpless, his sense of justice skewed. the mental subjugation and torment seemingly infinite.

but then you came into his life.

hiromi has no idea what he did to be deserving of you. he keeps waiting and waiting for something to go wrong, retribution for his misdeeds. through restless nights where he could hear shrieks of the ghosts of his past coming back to haunt him. he was so sure you could hear them too and that you’d leave, but you didn’t. instead holding him close to you through it all, the comforting weight of your body on his, fighting the emptiness within.

you loved and accepted him for what he was, a broken man in need of respite. he was underserving of your kindness and tried to push you away, but you saw the good in his heart and called out to it. you helped him heal and fought his hardships with him, side by side. slowly but surely, the fog in his mind lifted, the blinding lights dimming until his view was clear. in you he found atonement. he found liberation.

you blessed him with, not one, but two angels, with a third on the way. hiromi thought he knew happiness, like winning a case for someone wrongly accused of a crime or sinking into a steamy bath after a long, tiring day. but when he first laid eyes on his sweet baby boy he burst into tears, kissing your face repeatedly, his heart swollen, full of love. he had never been happier (save for the day he married his one true love).

hiromi watched his son grow day by day, looking more and more like him. his face may have been an exact replica of his father’s, but his son’s sincerity and open-hearted nature was all yours. in his son’s smile he saw you.

time flew before his eyes, only now he looked back on his memories with fondness and gratitude. before he knew it, his family was due to expand again, with the addition of his baby girl. he was the luckiest man in the world, his heart overflowing with warmth, happiness running through the ends of his hairs to the tips of his toes.

with you laying your head on his shoulder, his son doing his homework on the living room floor, and his daughter sleeping in his arms, he felt truly at peace. looking down at his precious daughter he found a million reasons why he had loved (and always will love) you.

hiromi was never one to appreciate to his looks. but in the mornings, when shaving before work, he’d end up scrutinising every single little detail. he saw his son, looking him in his eyes, a bigger version of his daughter’s cute nose on his face. that infectious smile of yours now mirrored on his lips. how could he have ever felt so insecure about himself when his children are the very essence of his being. looking at his beloved children, he thinks, no he knows, there is beauty inside of him too. that there always was.

“romi is everything okay?”

your voice lulls him out of his reverie, bringing him back to the present. your daughter was out of his arms and was now calling your son’s name, clambering onto his back whilst he was on the floor colouring. he paid her no mind, used to be treated like a climbing frame, and continued working on his school project.

hiromi, sat cuddling you on the sofa, laughs when she starts pulling his hair. his son finally has enough and stands up, pulling the three-year-old onto his shoulders, and runs around the tea table pretending to be a plane. your husband turns back to you, absentmindedly rubbing your swollen stomach.

“just thinking my love,” he says, leaning down and kissing between your brow. you hum and snuggle into his arms further.

“penny for your thoughts?”

“absolutely not, they’re worth more than a pretty penny,” he jokingly scoffs.

“fine,” you huff, leaning up to kiss him tenderly. “a kiss for your thoughts.”

he acquiesces, leaning down to press his cheek against yours.

“just thinking about how lucky i am to have you.” you turn your face to meet hiromi’s gaze, eyes shining at the strength of the sincerity in his admission. you bring your hands up to hold his face, pressing kisses to his lips.

“i’m the lucky one my sweetheart, you’ve given me everything i could’ve ever asked for and more.”

a warmth rushes through his body at your words and he captures your lips in the sweetest kiss. the hand on your stomach moves to your waist as he gently pulls you into him, deepening the kiss.

“ewww daddy’s eating mummy.” your daughter exclaims, pointing down from her brother’s shoulders.

you pull apart and laugh at her words. your son only looking at you both with a smile, heart warming at the sight of his parents being so openly in love.

hiromi jumps up from the sofa and runs towards your daughter, grabbing her off your son’s shoulders and playfully bites and kisses her cheeks.

over the sounds of her delighted giggles, hiromi exclaims “gonna gobble you next”, aggressively om nom nomming her cheeks.

your son sits down next to you and lays his head onto your chest, hugging you, mindful not to put too much weight onto your midsection. immediately your hand comes up to stroke his hair and you kiss his forehead. he’s so much like his father, both in personality and looks.

laughing at his dad’s antics, both you and your son fondly watch hiromi now throw your daughter up into the air and catch her. rubbing your stomach, you pray the child in your womb turns out exactly like their father.

truly, what a blessed family you’ve both created.

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sunflower-lilac42 · 2 days

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✧ 𝐂𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐧 𝐍𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐥𝐞 𝐒𝐨𝐮𝐩 || quinn hughes ♔

summary: y/n tries her best to cheer quinn up after the loss, and low and behold, her chicken noodle soup comes to the rescue

warnings: the loss (fuck u edmonton), sad quinny, kind of rushed writing

publish date: 05/20/24

notes: i hope you all will join me in singing the 'oilers suck' song but the tune to baby shark (if you don't know what it is pls look it up). on this, i am no way shape or form bashing the oilers fans on here! i just am emotionally destroyed right now and the oilers are part of that cause. i gave you guys just a little bit of angst bc my brain is fried right now but i still wanted to write. okay bye! | add yourself to the taglist ➺ taglist!

nhl masterlist | main masterlist

She tried, she really did. But her boss was relentless, he was not letting her take a day off, not even a few hours. So here she was sitting in her office when her boyfriend was playing in game seven of round two of the Stanley Cup playoffs.

She knew how nervous he was before the game having called him on her break. She had to calm him down before he left for the arena. Without Brock, she knew this game would be harder than the previous ones.

By some miracle she was able to make it back to their apartment for the third period, it was around 8 when it started. She sat on their couch, still working but mostly watching the TV that splayed the game across it. She felt as if she was sitting on edge the whole time.

As the clock ticked down, she only grew more nervous and anxious, wanting nothing more than for them to at least score a goal. Her knee bounced up and down, her laptop completely abandoned on the other side of the couch. She breathed a small sigh of relief once they got the power play.

The first goal they scored, she all but jumped off of the couch. Taking a deep breath and clapping her hands, she sat back down and watched the game intently, thanking Connor as much as she could. And then Fil scored too. She smiled a little bit of hope making its way back into her body.

A lonely tear slid down her face as the final seconds came to an end. She watched as their camera panned to all of their faces and she broke when she saw the look on Quinn’s. He had worked so hard for this, overworked himself until he passed out on the couch. He didn’t deserve this, none of them did.

She made quick work of making him something to eat, her homemade chicken noodle soup that always seemed to cheer him up. She knew that there was a good chance that he wouldn’t eat it, probably have little to no appetite at all, but if he didn’t, they could heat it up tomorrow.

When she finished making it, she let it sit on the stove, keeping it warm for when he arrived home. She moved to the couch to continue working, occasionally getting up to stir the pot.

She didn’t know how long it had been until Quinn got home, she only knew when she heard the door clock open and the sound of keys clattering on the counter shook her from her working state. She stood up and walked over to him but halted once she saw him holding his hand up, “I- I’m going to go shower.”

She nodded and reached her hand out to at least give him a reassuring touch but he shied away from it, making his way to their bedroom. She wasn’t sure how much more heartbreak she could take from him. She heard the shower turn on a couple minutes later and she didn’t know what else to do. She went back to work, hoping Quinn would be done soon and come out to at least sit with her.

Yet, after thirty minutes there was no sign of him. The water had turned off about ten minutes ago so she knew he was at least out of the shower, the bathroom not so much. She set her computer off to the side, making her way into their bedroom. She found him sitting there at the edge of the bed, his hands clutching one of his shirts. She walked over and kneeled behind him on the bed, wrapping her right arm around him and her left hand moved to rub up and down his arm.

She lightly kissed the side of his cheek and waited for him to say something. He whispered something but she wasn’t sure what he had exactly said. She moved to situate herself so she was sitting more comfortably before leaning in to hear him better, “Hmm?”

“Why does it hurt so much?”

She frowned at his words, her left hand now clutching his left one, “Because that’s your team, Quinny. Because you’re the captain and you feel like you let them down. But I’m going to tell you right now that you are in no way shape or form to blame here.”

He shook his head, trying to move away from her. He was afraid that if she was around him too much he would let her down too, afraid that he had already let her down. Her grip tightened around him causing him to stay in place. Finally, he broke.

He buried his head into her chest, wrapped his arms around her waist, and sobbed into her chest. She ran her fingers through his hair, occasionally kissing the top of his head. She held in her own tears, not trying to give him another thing to worry about.

As his tears slowed, he moved his head away and wiped the remnants of them from his cheeks. He locked eyes with her and for the first time that night, he allowed himself to truly relax. She ran another hand through his hair and smiled softly at him, “What’re you thinking about?”

“That I’m really glad I have you.” He reached out to hold her hand, gripping it tightly.

“And I am really really glad to have you, Quinner. Nothing is ever going to change how proud I am of you. You led this team to the second round of the playoffs in your first year as captain, you did amazing.”

He smiled at her which caused her to smile again as well. He hugged her tightly once more before mumbling, “I smelt chicken noodle soup.”

She laughed, “Of course you did. Made it right after the game finished. You want some?”

He nodded and stood up, holding his hand out for her to take. They ate in silence, occasionally looking up to sneak glances at one another. She did the dishes as Quinn made his way back to their room to settle himself into bed. She joined him a few minutes later, clad in one of his sweatshirts and the first pair of pajama pants she found.

She kissed him before snuggling into his side, “I’m so proud of you, Quinny.”

His eyes glassed over a little as he leaned down a little to kiss her head, “Thank you.”

𝑽𝑨𝑵𝑪𝑶𝑼𝑽𝑬𝑹 𝑪𝑨𝑵𝑼𝑪𝑲𝑺 𝑻𝑨𝑮𝑳𝑰𝑺𝑻 ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

@landoslover | @nonsensical-nonsense | @quinnylouhughesx43

#sunny lune writes #nhl #hockey #nhl imagine #hockey imagine #quinn hughes #qh43 #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes imagine #vancouver canucks #nhl hockey

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hotmencore · 12 hours

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“𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞 𝐬𝐨 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭” 𝐋𝐍𝟒

Pairing: Lando Norris x fem!reader (she/her)

Summary: After being coldly dumped by your long term boyfriend days before valentines, your bestfriend Lando takes it upon himself to show you how much you truly matter.

Warnings: Heartbreak? Pure fluff

A/N: This is so rushed because i started it like eight months ago and don’t know how to finish it. but I’m backkk, so let me know what you think!

Word count:

Likes and reblogs are much appreciated! Copying and reposts are not! My fics are only posted on tumblr, under this account, @hotmencore

5 days.

You hadn't left your apartment in 5 days.

Part of you felt ashamed of it. Of the way you have been treating yourself.

But the other, bigger part of you, just didn't care.

You had a right to feel torn. Desolate.

Broken.

The man you thought was the one had walked out on you. No explanation, no sign of remorse. Nothing.

I just don't love you anymore.

The words kept replaying over and over in your head. They made you feel defeated. Weak at the knees.

Sick.

And what made it even worse, was that it was right before valentines.

What a dick move.

You hadn't picked up your phone in days. You cut yourself off from the outside world, not feeling like you deserved to be a part of it anymore.

Messages left unopened.

Letting the phone ring until it would eventually stop.

You appreciated the concern, but you really just wanted to be alone. To drown in your sorrows until you plucked up the courage to actually go out again.

It was as if those 6 words had just sucked all life out of you.

And you hated yourself for it. You felt weak. Stupid.

Worthless.

But you were suddenly brought out of your thoughts, by a knock at the door.

You stayed where you were sprawled out on the sofa, though you reached for the remote to mute the tv, just to check that you weren't dreaming. It was as though the isolation you had kept yourself in had made you unfamiliar of any other presence beside your own.

You began to doubt actually hearing the knock. That was, until you heard it again. And, a voice.

"Y/N?"

Lando.

"Y/N open up, it's me" he called through the door.

Shit.

You knew he wasn't gonna leave. You let out a deep sigh, bringing your hands up to drag them down your face in misery, before pulling yourself off of the sofa, and trudging across your apartment to the door.

You open it, seeing Lando stood in front of you. His face was the first you had seen for the last several days…and it brought a small sense of comfort to you. But it also brought back the memories explaining why you had trapped yourself away…and you felt tears welling in your eyes.

"Hey" he breathes out, relieved to see you were somewhat okay.

"Hi" you reply with a half smile, your voice slightly cracking.

Lando could see the pain in your expression. He wasn’t stupid. He knew you like the back of his own hand.

He stepped into your apartment, his hand gently reaching out to pull you into him. His arms tugged you in, embracing you with a soft hold round your waist. Your head fell perfectly into the crook of his neck, as you let out a shaky breath.

“I’m sorry” Lando mutters into your hair, as he feels you begin to tremble.

He lets you cry as your arms wrap round his neck, holding him tightly. He leans back for a moment, holding your head in his hands. His thumb gently pushes a stray hair from your face, as he looks at you with a delicate gaze.

“You’re okay” he says quietly.

The both of you soon end up on your sofa together, sat beside one another. You sit slightly slouched, your head resting back on the sofa. Lando sits beside you, his arm stretched out behind your head as you look at each other. He let you ramble on about your feelings, how you pretty much gave up on yourself, and how your now ex had completely crushed any ounce of confidence that you had…leaving you empty.

And Lando simply listened.

And he understood.

“I thought he was the one Lan” you say quietly, your voice fragile as you look down at your fingers, messing with them.

“The one wouldn’t do that to you. The one would stay with you. Love you forever. Help you through things. And that isn’t what he did, Y/N. You deserve so much more than that” he softly mutters to you, your eye contact unfaltering.

Hearing those words come from Lando’s mouth made you feel something. Something more than the pain of the last few days. Something that you feel you haven’t noticed before…like a missing piece. His eyes almost shone at you, the understanding look in them reaching depths of you that had been isolated from even yourself. It was almost the the flip of a switch, a lightbulb going off in your head. Because in that moment, you realised that all this time, you have had the one in your life…but you had been looking right past him.

And now you see him.

#lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula 1 #formula one #lando norris drabble #lando norris blurb #lando norris fanfic #lando norris one shot #ln4 imagine #ln4 x reader #ln4 #lando norris fluff #lando norris x you #lando norris x yn

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ghoulfuckersincorporated · 1 day

Note

pls tell us you have more Ghoul Thoughts on the way🙏🏻

General NSFW Cooper Howard Headcanons 2

Prewar!Cooper Howard

Has a little-bitty bit of an intox kink. He'd never do anything untoward, but I think if he had a partner who didn't party much, it would turn him on a lot to watch them getting all warm-faced and losing their inhibitions after exactly one drink. Working in Hollywood means that sometimes you have to go out and attend functions to mingle and rub elbows, so he's pretty good at holding his liquor. Seeing someone who isn't stirs something up in him, and he's not good at rejecting your advances when the two of you get home like he should.

Shibari kink. Doesn't know that's what it's called, and hasn't really read up much about it, but really gets riled up seeing you wrapped in his lasso. One day you find a book about it, and you show it to him as a half-joke. Soon you're wearing a harness made out of that rope underneath your clothes.

Erotic grooming, anyone? This man will jump to help you wash and brush your hair in the shower. He finds it incredibly intimate, and would help Barb take care of her hair when they were together. He's also very happy to help you shave...

The Ghoul

Can we talk about how lazy this man would normally be during sex? He's 260+ years old and spends all day walking for miles in the desert heat and fighting the entire Wasteland. He would absolutely have you riding him/doing most of the work 90% of the time. And you know what? I support it. He deserves a little spoiling, so hop up and go nuts. But make no mistake: he's still the one in control.

Insanely possessive and only tries to hide the parts of it that he thinks would be truly off-putting. He knows he can't literally stop every single man in the world from interacting with you, looking at you...but if he could, he would. Big into marking you up with hickies, bite marks. Scent marking around other ghouls. The idea of tattooing or even branding you makes him hard as a rock, but he'd never bring it up first, too afraid it'd scare you off.

In the same sort of arena, he's obsessed with fucking his load back into you, be it with his tongue, his fingers, or his cock. You did the work of getting it out of him, you earned it; you're keeping it. Better have the Radaway ready.

#cooper howard #the ghoul #cooper howard headcanons #cooper howard smut #cooper howard x reader #cooper howard x you #prewar!cooper howard #vaultghoul #ghoulcy #fallout tv show #fallout prime #submission

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qlossytbh · 8 hours

Text

𝐢’𝐦 𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐲 - 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝 𝐱 𝐛𝐚𝐮!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 so what if instead of JJ you were the one who kept emilys identity a secret and spencer is giving you the cold shoulder.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 mentions spoilers for 6x18, spoilers for 7x2, mentions of drugs, mentions of addiction, very brief mentions of consuming alcohol to cope, fighting, pining, angst :(, but then fluff :D, not proofread

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 2.7k

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 so i had this idea while watching episode 7 and i got carried away lol

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭ੈ✩‧₊˚

“Spence,” You called, following hot on his trail, frustration welling up in every single fiber of your body. “Spence, look, can we talk about this?”

Spencer had been giving you the cold shoulder throughout the whole day. Dismissing you cruelly, brushing off your every input in the case— you knew you deserved it, if you were being completely honest.

It was only a matter of time before the team found out that you had covered up Emily’s whereabouts, and you knew they had a right to be mad but the only person who was still mad at you was Spencer. The one person you didn’t want mad at you.

Hell even Derek was willing to talk to you and hear you out, but Spencer— God.

And it wasn’t even like he was taking it out on Hotch as well. He was just getting a hit at you and you were growing impatient because he refused to talk about it, just like he was now.

“I don’t wanna talk about it,” He responded contemptuously. You held yourself back from groaning, you placed an angry hand on your hip and faced him.

“You’re angry and disappointed— I get it,” He scoffed, low enough for you to almost miss it but you didn’t. You watched him, completely baffled as he continued grappling at his files. “With the way we handled Emily we—“

He whipped around, nearly bumping into you. You stumbled back momentarily, taken aback by his hostility. “Listen, I have a lot going on, all right?”

“What? Spencer—“ He was halfway out the door, before your stuttering words stopped him in his tracks. He turned on his heels, facing you with the coldest expression you’ve ever seen him wear around you.

You and Spencer never fought. Like ever.

“You know what I think it is?” You started.

“What?” He responded, in a way that made it seem like he was testing you. Like he was warning you not to push him past his limits.

“You’re pissed that me and Hotch were able to control our micro-expressions in the waiting room that night and you weren’t able to detect our deceit.” Spencer looked away, seemingly not being able to face you.

You had definitely gone far, but the exasperation was driving you off the wall and you weren’t beginning to think straight.

Maybe it was the desperation to just be okay with him. Just the thought of this lasting more than a week filled you with dread, you felt helpless.

“You think this is because of my profiling skills?” Disbelief filled his voice and for the millionth time in these twenty four hours, you felt shame. You opened your mouth to continue but he cut you off by saying your full name— Not the nickname he usually called you.

He said it harshly and full of condescension. “Listen, the only reason you were able to manage my perception is because I trusted you— I came to your house for ten weeks in a row crying over losing a friend and not once did you have the decency to tell me the truth.”

You looked down, guilt ripping at every single fiber inside of you. You knew it wasn’t okay, and you felt horrible for the repercussions your secret inflicted on the team. It was gut wrenching, to hold someone you loved so much while he violently sobbed with grief and not be able to tell him the truth, not being able to protect him from the pain you swore you’d always shield him from.

But you did it to protect Emily and to protect them. And Spencer didn’t need to understand it, he was allowed to be pissed, but god forbid he talked to you about that anger. Instead he just let it bundle up until he was ready to rub it in your face.

“I couldn’t,” Your voice was unstable.

“You couldn’t? Or you wouldn’t?” There was that goddamn derisive tone again.

“No, I couldn’t!” You seethed, eyes beginning to burn with tears.

It wasn’t logical that you end up crying, and you didn’t want anyone— much less Spencer, to notice he had that effect on you. But he was your friend and he was being cruel.

“What if I started taking dilaudid again, would you have let me?”

You clamped your mouth shut, eyes widening slightly. The tears just began getting harder to blink away, mind flashing images and memories back to when Spencer was struggling with Dilaudid.

“You didn’t.” You weren’t sure if you were saying that to convince yourself or even ease yourself from the thought of the possibility that Spencer had relapsed. It was feeling harder to breathe.

“Yeah, but I thought about it,” He said finally.

No one, not Derek, not JJ— No one, had been by Spencer’s side when he was struggling with his addiction. As his best friend, the second you caught on to him, you encouraged him to get the help he needed and you held his hand every step of the way.

So how dare he throw that into your face right now, as if the consequences of your decision may have led him to potentially relapse. How he made it seem like his suffering was your fault.

For some reason you couldn’t help thinking that in a certain way, it was. And that killed you.

“That isn’t fair,” You whispered, trying to swallow down the tears that were causing your throat to close up.

“You’re not exactly allowed to talk to me about fair,” Spencer turned, giving you one last glance before turning and leaving the room. You stood there, frustration and tears heavy on your trail.

“Reid,” Prentiss called out, to which he completely ignored, waltzing past her without a second glance. The whole team looked over at him and then turned to you.

You sucked in a shaky breath through your nose, trying to prevent yourself from crying. The tears welling in your eyes were completely rooted by all types of anger.

You rushed out of the room and past the team, heading in the opposite direction that Spencer had stormed off to, desperately needing a minute to breath.

“But careful not to burn the onions,” Hotch inquired, keeping his gaze on the pan.

“Bravo Aaron!” Rossi exclaimed. You let out a low huff of amusement, rolling your eyes at your two co-workers.

Hotch had suggested hosting a dinner party where Rossi teaches the group how to cook like a ‘true Italian’. It was a bonding experience he thought would benefit the team.

Everyone was watching Rossi as he cooked his infamous Carbonara recipe, laying out all the essential steps and rules of a true pasta dish recipe. A glass of wine sat temptingly in front of you, but you knew that if you were to lay a single hand on it, Rossi would rip said hands off your body.

You really needed that drink though.

Once the jet landed after solving the case today, Emily came up to talk to you, mainly just to ask how you were holding up. You told her that you were fine, but she clearly gave you zero satisfaction in believing your white lie.

You were not fine, because since your fight with Spencer you hadn’t talked to him all day. Not during the case, not after it— Not even on the jet ride home, which is when you and Spencer would usually sit together to play poker or to read a book together.

Your mind had been running its gears near exhaustion, both worried and incredibly frustrated with him. It was when Emily informed you that she wasn’t entirely sure if Spencer was going to make an appearance tonight when you realized that you may have potentially ruined one of your most valued relationships.

So yeah, halfway through cooking dinner and no sign of Spencer. You needed that glass of wine— maybe even three more.

The sound of the doorbell ringing busted you from your thoughts. You turned to look at the door. When you looked at Emily she was just as confused as you were, shooting a perplexed shrug your way. Rossi glanced over at the door, before Derek stood. “I got it,”

“Grazie Mille!” JJ reached for her glass beside you before Rossi scolded her profusely.

“Should’ve given you a heads up,” You whispered, resting your forearms on the marble in front of you.

Rossi continued, blabbering passionately about pasta and the true art behind it. You couldn’t help but feel the familiar fondness nestle in your chest. It had been a while since everyone had come together like this. You missed it, but you couldn’t help but feel like there was still something off.

Probably because there was.

“It’s all about timing and rhythm,” He said, hands working on the pasta in front of him. You watched curiously, pursing your lips in concentration. “And if you don’t feel yourself doing it properly, please, order a pizza.”

You laughed softly, not feeling it quite reach your eyes as they fell down to the marble counter. “Sorry I’m late,”

You turned around, straightening your back to see Spencer making his appearance in Rossi’s kitchen. Your mouth hung open, just barely, and you could practically feel your breath hitch into the back of your throat, when he smiled widely.

He walked up to the counter, standing in between you and Emily. The two of you made eye contact and he opened his mouth to speak, but closed it shut, not entirely sure what to say— much less to you. Your eyes nervously left his, cheeks beginning to buzz with heat as Rossi continued explaining how this whole cooking dynamic was going to work.

You hadn’t mentally prepared yourself to see him tonight since Emily said that he was possibly not going to make it. But you weren’t about to deny how happy it made you to see him, and to have him close to you— even if he was angry.

About fifteen minutes and a wine glass later, you stood next to the stove, eyeing the pancetta and onions that sizzled away with another glass of wine in your hand, swirling the dark liquid around.

“The onions are starting to burn,” A voice beside you said. You snapped out of your trail of thoughts, turning to see Spencer making his way towards you, hands shoved deep in his pockets.

His chin jutted towards the pan and you noticed that in fact the onions were beginning to burn. You cursed silently, hands fumbling between the wine glass and the wooden spoon. You quickly downed the remaining wine in your glass before setting it on the counter next to the stove and removing the pan from the heat, all in a mildly frenzied panic.

Spencer took an odd notice that you had consumed two glasses of wine in a span of 15 minutes.

“Don’t tell Rossi,” You groaned, mixing the crisp pancetta and onions around lamely. Spencer chuckled, taking a step closer to you.

You glanced up at him, and quickly averted your gaze back to the pan, blinking rapidly. Garcia and Morgan were laughing away as they chopped up some more parsley while JJ and Hotch were in charge of setting down the plates. Rossi and Prentiss were— drinking wine and chatting.

You were weirdly nervous and found yourself thinking of ways to get away from the situation at hand. “So uh— How are you?”

You bit back a spiteful reply, not wanting to make this worse. However, it was ironic that now he was the one wanting to talk and putting you in a position where you now wanted to give him the cold shoulder.

“Good,” You quipped, mixing the pancetta around. Spencer cleared his throat, shifting on the back of his feet. “I thought you were ignoring me.”

It did no good to beat around the bush, and honestly bringing up the topic at hand filled you with less anxiety than whatever small talk the two of you were attempting to make. Spencer sighed heavily. Your brows were furrowed, eyes drilling holes into the crisping pancetta.

“Can we talk outside?” He muttered. You nodded, informing Emily and Rossi that the pancetta was done but you needed to head out for a bit.

“What you said back at the station,” You started, closing the door behind you. “Were you actually thinking about relapsing or were you saying that to get at me,”

His brows furrowed. “Wha— Yes! I wouldn’t ever use that to spite you,”

You crossed your arms across your chest. “It felt like that was the intention,”

“It wasn’t, I promise I—“ Spencer peered to his side. “I was really mad— I still kind of am,”

“Then let’s talk about it,” You exasperated, voice growing weak as you finally turned to face him. “We talk about it Spencer, you don’t give me the cold shoulder and then lash out on me when I try to talk about things.”

Spencer knew he could be harsh, especially when he was angry and especially when that anger was rooted by betrayal. He had a hard time opening up about what was going on inside of him constantly, but that wasn’t an excuse to lash out on you the way he did.

“Can I ask you something just to get it out of the way?” Spencer nodded immediately.

“Anything,”

“Why does your anger feel personal? Why aren’t you shutting Hotch out the way you’re doing with me?” Your eyes were mixed with layers of all sorts of complicated feelings

“Because it is personal Y/n,” You looked at Spencer. “You are my best friend, probably one of the most important people in my life and It makes me feel stupid having gone to your house crying countless nights when you knew this whole time that she was alive.”

“I feel like an idiot..!” You felt a pang of guilt. You never wanted Spencer feeling stupid for feeling anything.

“I know! I know—“

The room suddenly felt heavy and you wish the back of your eyes weren’t burning the way they currently were. You really wanted this to be a good night.

“You’re allowed to be mad at me Spence,” You closed your eyes, drawing in a deep breath. “I’m not expecting this to be fine immediately, because whether or not my lie has justification, it was still a lie and I’m sorry,”

His eyes scanned yours slowly, both of your faces etched with regret. “I’m sorry for lying,”

“I really wish I could say I shouldn’t have done it, but I truly didn’t have another choice,” Spencer watched you dig your teeth into the plump flesh of your lower lip.

“Yeah,” He sighed in defeat. “I know,”

The two of you shifted in the uncomfortable silence, not knowing how else to act or what to say. You cleared your throat and looked up at him. “If you need some more time I get, just let me know,”

“No—“ Spencer shook his head instantly, looking down at you. “I really don’t want that.”

Spencer was miserable with the distance he put between you these past couple of days. It was hell to him, having felt so betrayed by someone he loved so deeply the way he loved you, but talking things out with you, it made things better. Not fixed, but better.

He reached out, grabbing your forearm and pulling you close to him. Your arms immediately flew around his neck, hands tangling into his hair while his arms wrapped themselves snugly around your waist. He buried his face into the crook of your neck, breathing in your scent and relaxing against your body. He missed having you like this.

“I’m sorry,” You muttered. Spencer communicated back by giving you a tight squeeze and the two of you stood there, engulfed in each other's company for just a while longer.

When you pulled away, it was only a few inches, just enough for your hands to remain on his shoulder while his hands sat on the curve of your waist.

You watched him, the hairs on the back of your neck suddenly standing up when you noticed his gaze flicker upon your lips. Your face burned and a million unconscious thoughts started barging into your head and—

“Reid! Y/N!” Derek shot from inside the house. You jumped, pulling away from Spencer and turning to the door.

“Uh—“ You pointed back. “We should, you know—“

“Y-Yeah!—“ Spencer squeaked, face turning red. “Yeah, uh, definitely— we definitely should—“

Yep, you definitely missed whatever this was.

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echoofadream · 16 hours

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Part 3 of "Your favorite patient"🥺👉👈

Your favorite patient...

Part 3

Summary: you came back from the hospital after a very stressful day and your good boy helps you relax

Contains: sub!male!yandere, AFAB!dom!reader(no gender specified), smut, oral(r!receiving), master/slave dynamic, praise, little bit of feminization

Short note: I hate how doms are portrayed like these people who don't moan or whimper because that's what a sub does and they only make those guttural noises and groans. Like, let people enjoy themselves. Anyway you moan a lot in this one

Part 1 Part2

You had an awfully exhausting day at the hospital. Trying to convince a stubborn man that surgery was the only way to save his life, then performing a three hour surgery on him is no easy work. You were stressed and could barely keep your eyes open as you made your way to your apartment on the tenth floor of the complex. It was nine pm. The elevator was broken. Such a wonderful day.

You took your keys out of your coat and unlocked the door on the third try. Sighing, you opened it and stepped inside. A small smile appeared on your face when you noticed the man kneeling in front of you.

"Welcome home, doctor" he said with the biggest, most loving smile you've ever seen in your life. He was on his knees, hands on his thighs and his back straight(the "good boy" pose, as you called it). He was wearing a short black skirt you'd bought him and an oversized white shirt. A couple of buttons were undone, leaving the bite marks on his chest exposed. What a sight he was.

He started untying your shoe laces, carefully taking them off and putting them aside. Then, he slowly grabbed your ankle and put your foot inside the house slipper before moving to the next leg.

"Dinner is ready, doctor. Would you like to change into some more comfortable clothes first and then eat?" the man asks, the same smile on his face.

"I'm not hungry" you say, fatigue palpable in your voice as you started walking towards your shared bedroom. He started living with you a couple of days ago and was already taking his job as your slave very seriously. He'd have breakfast ready for you every morning before he'd come and wake you up. He'd help you shower and stand by your side as you brushed your teeth. Sometimes he'd do your skincare since you were always in such a hurry in the morning. When you'd come back home, he'd be waiting for you on his knees in front of the door, helping you take off your street footwear and your coat. Then he'd either help you change into house clothes or straight up follow you into the kitchen where he'd serve you the food he made with pure love and adoration just for you. Every day another healthy homemade meal. Every night a relaxing bubble bath(when he wasn't fucked out of his mind; when he was you'd take care of him).

He whines and jumps to his feet, following you into the bedroom. "B-but I worked so hard to make dinner..."

You ignore him and take a seat on the bed. When you start taking your clothes off his hands stop you.

"I'll do it for you" he tells you confidently. You let him unbutton your shirt and slide it off your shoulders, hearing the soft sounds he made at the sight of your bare torso. "You're so beautiful, doctor..." he says breathlessly, smiling and kneeling at your feet.

"I'm tired" you tell him and he frowns.

"It's all that geezer's fault" he mumbles. You raise a brow at his words, silently telling him to continue. "That old man who argued with you about the surgery" he adds, his voice full of hatred. "How dare he think he knows better than you!?" he snaps. "How dare he stress you out!? Who does he think he is? That guy deserved being refused the surgery! He should've fucking died!"

His face flushes red at the sudden touch of your hand, gently stroking his cheek. You were giving him the same kind smile you used to when he first saw you in that hospital room. He bites his lower lip and lets out a tiny whine.

"How do you know about that, pretty boy?" you ask him. You weren't mad at him, god forbid! How could you? He was your boy after all.

" 'm tracking you, doctor..." he says softly.

"Yeah? How so?

God the way you were talking to him was making him lose his mind already. Every time you spoke to him like he was an inferior being, someone who could barely comprehend the meaning of your words, everything would go fuzzy for him and he'd lose himself completely.

"App" he says, giving you his signature puppy eyes.

"App?" you repeat, a smirk on your face. He whimpers at the sight, his hips slightly rubbing against your foot.

"On...phone...your phone...track location and...can hear...you...mic..."

You laugh. You've already gotten used to his obsessive and possessive behavior, so the news didn't surprise you that much. But the way he was already so desperate and you haven't even touched him yet! Never in your life had you ever met someone so sensitive. And you loved it.

"Is that so, baby?" you ask teasingly. "You're tracking my phone?"

"Mhm~...mhm..." he whimpers, nodding his head rapidly. " 'm taking care of you..."

You burst out laughing again and that only makes him feel smaller. You start stroking his hair, slowly moving upwards to the top of his head and pat him.

"That's so nice of you, pretty boy" you praise him.

He chuckles, his cheeks getting redder. " 'm pretty...your...pretty boy"

You kept caressing his hair as he leaned into your touch, soft sounds escaping his lips. You looked at him so lovingly, he was practically melting. Your thoughts were filled with...love for him. God, were you truly getting so obsessed with him that you didn't mind him tracking your phone and listening to all your conversations? Well, did you have something to hide from him anyway? Of course you didn't! He was the closest person to you. You could tell him anything. It wasn't as though you had any secrets he wasn't allowed to hear.

"Sweet thing, why don't you finish taking these clothes off, huh?"

He gulped and started nodding his head eagerly. "Yes, doctor! Everything you say!" His hands began to unbuckle your belt and you watched him with a proud smile on your face. He looked so pretty in that little skirt of his and you were one hundred percent sure he didn't have anything underneath. He was such a cute little boy!

He practically moaned when he finished taking off your pants, his trembling hands grabbing the hem of your underwear. You spread your legs in front of him so he could see the sticky wet spot on your panties.

"I'm so tired, sweet boy. Do you wanna make me feel better?"

"Yes!" he responds without hesitation. "Wanna taste you. May I taste you? May I? Please..."

How could you deny him when he asked you so politely? He's always been so well behaved! You never had to tell him to beg for what he wanted(except for when you wanted to torment him). He was such a good boy! If you weren't so mean he'd never receive any punishment because he never deserves it! Those are the times when you get mad at him for no reason, just because you need to justify why you wanted to cover his body in bites and bruises and smack his ass till he couldn't sit comfortably for days.

"Pleaseee..." he whines once more and you get pulled away from your thoughts.

"I want you to make me cum, you think you can do that?" you ask, teasing him.

His eyes light up and he starts nodding his head. "I'll make you cum...make you feel so good..."

You smirk before leaning on your elbows and waiting for him to start worshipping his master.

As soon as he saw you get in that position, his head was buried in between your legs and his tongue was already licking at your clothed clit. He grabbed your thighs and lifted them on his shoulders as his tongue pressed on your entrance and his nose rubbed your bud frantically.

"F-fuck baby..." you cursed, biting your lower lip, trying to suppress the sounds you were forced to make.

He grabs the hem of your panties and pulls them down, rapidly taking them off and throwing them on the floor, leaving your pussy exposed to him. A whine escapes his lips and his hot breath hits your sensitive cunt, causing you to groan and grab a hold of his hair.

"So pretty..." he says, already sounding breathless. "Such....pretty...pussy...wanna make you feel good..."

Before you can tell him anything his mouth goes back to work, tongue lapping at your folds and causing your body to tremble. Lewd sounds started filling the room as he kept eating your pussy like a starved man. And boy was he doing a good job.

"Does...mhm~ feel...good mhm...?"

You couldn't even answer his question. The pleasure overtaking your body at that moment was too intense for you to talk. He went back to your hole, shoving his tongue inside and rubbing his nose against your clit rapidly.

"F-ahh baby...a-atta boy..." The praise only made him go faster, his hands rising to your thighs and pushing them inwards, squeezing his head between them. His tongue started rubbing circles on your red bud, each stroke drawing a moan of pleasure from you.

Your sounds boosted his confidence as he moved his head faster and harder. You didn't even know such a slim man could possibly have that much strength! The bed was fucking creaking with every thrust of his face in between your legs. Oh, he's humping the bed. Yeah, that makes sense.

That's when your grip on his hair tightens and you try to sound as demanding as you could while he was tongue fucking you.

"D-don't ahh~... st-stop thrust...f-fuck...the fuck...oh fuck!....fucking bed...!!"

And he stops. Wasn't he such a good boy? He pulls his face away from your cunt for a second, catching his breath. "S-sorry...I'll b-be good~...from...now-"

You push his head back in between your legs, muffling his words as you start to grind on his face, getting closer and closer to your release. "Fuck baby...yeah! That's f-fuck...so g-good...atta boy! Atta fucking boy!"

You felt your orgasm approaching, your legs shaking and walls clenching around the tip of his tongue, which was laying numb at your entrance, too tired to keep going as you fucked his face. As you came he let out a loud whimper, then pulled away from your pussy, panting like crazy. His face was covered in your release and he was licking his lips sloppily.

"Taste so good~...mhm...love you..." he says, giggling like an idiot.

You weren't in a much better state yourself. Panting and full of sweat, clit feeling sore from his abusive tongue and legs still shaking slightly. Your gaze lowers and that's when you see the sheets and his little skirt, both covered in white fluid.

"Oh baby..."

He looks away, cheeks getting redder. He covers his mouth, trying to hide the smile on his face. God, he was so perfect. He came just from humping the bed and eating your pussy and he didn't even get to finish grinding on the mattress cause you made him stop!

"Darling, look at the mess you did..."

"Mhm...are you proud?" he whimpers, big puppy eyes staring right into your soul. "Did I do good? Was I a good boy?"

You smile lovingly and you couldn't deny the feelings you were starting to develop for this man. "You did so good, my sweet boy. I'm proud of you"

"Mhm...thank you...pat my head, pretty please..."

You pat your lap and his mouth curls into a smile. He stands up and places his thighs on either side of your hips before wrapping his arms around your neck and sitting on your lap. You were right, he wasn't wearing any underwear. You smirk at the feeling of his now semi-hard cock on your skin.

"Pats!" he whimpers. "Please...!"

You can't but chuckle as you start caressing his hair with one hand while stroking his back with the other. His breathing was starting to go back to normal as he let himself relax in your arms.

"Mhm...thank you...I love you..."

"I love you too, pretty boy"

Thank you for reading this! I hope you enjoyed it! You can send me requests for what you want me to write about in the next parts❤️

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