#so I just ended up writing the Or it can go like underneath
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Relax, and let go
Alicent Hightower x Female! Reader
Summary: When the duties of the realm take their toll on her, her sworn sword takes care of their Queen.
or: the one where reader fucks Alicent in a bathtub :)
Word count: ~3K
Warnings: Soft smut (Alicent deserves some love), top!reader obv, yearning hehe MDNI!!!!!
a/n: Im back! sort of lol. Trying to get back into writing, and what better way to get back into it then with a little Alicent content right before season two?? Hope you all enjoy, and let me know if you all would like to see more Alicent content. Anywayssss....#teamgreen
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Her footsteps were heavy on the cold stone floor of the halls. The Council meeting had been a long one, the sun had already been set for a while now, the castle quiet since most staff and royals had retreated to their own chambers. The Queen made her way to her bedchambers at the very end of the hall, escorted by her sworn sword. You both walked in silence, you could see the weight of her duties dragging her down. Her shoulders were slumped, but still she walked with purpose. She hadn’t been sleeping, you knew that, because every night you stood outside her room to stand guard, you saw the light slip underneath her door and heard shuffling inside the room.
You open the big wooden doors that lead to her quarters, so she can step inside. You follow right behind her, lighting some candles to light up her room a bit. Before you announce your departure to the queen, now standing facing the balcony, you decide to speak for the first time in what felt like hours.
“Your Grace?”, you ask softly. She doesn't answer, seeming to be lost in her own thoughts, so you try again.
“Alicent?”
The use of her name instead of her title makes her wake from her thoughts. She turns around and looks at you. It takes your breath away every single time. You knew it wasn't right, she was your boss, the queen of the seven kingdoms, but you couldn’t help it. Every time you laid eyes on the Dowager queen, you couldn’t help but admire her beauty.
“Yes?” she responded curtly, though there was kindness in the way she spoke to you.
You decide to speak, all might it be out of line. “You should get some rest”
“Rest...” Alicent echoed, her voice tinged with frustration. "I wish I could, but duty does not pause for the queen's exhaustion." The weight of duty was immense, and the thought of rest seemed like a luxury she could not afford in times like these. Yet, the truth was that her body was beginning to buckle under the strain. Her husband, the king, was very ill, and his duties had become hers.
"But... I suppose you are right," she added, acknowledging the wisdom in her guard's words. "I cannot lead if I am weakened."
“Ill draw a bath for you, your grace” you propose. It was so late when the two of you came back from the council that her handmaidens had already retreated back to their homes.
“Alright,” Alicent answered quietly, a hint of relief creeping into her voice, “Thank you.”
Without another word, you remove the heavy layers of your armor to be able to help her out. Making your way to the bronze tub in the corner of the room, you start by heating up the water. Filling the water with oils, the sweet fumes of which filling the room with a relaxing smell.
"I... I will need some help removing my dress." Alicent spoke up. Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment, but her words were tinged with an underlying fatigue.
“Of course, your grace”, you say, as you try not to think about the proximity in which you will be to the queen. The two of you have been close before, of course, you were her sworn sword, her protector. But never like this. Never just the two of you, confined in her bedchambers, nonetheless.
Alicent nodded her appreciation, thankful that she would not have to struggle alone with the intricate laces and ribbons of her dress. As she stood by the tub, the scent of rose oil wafted through the air, a soft fragrance to soothe her stress.
“I do not wish to burden you with my... personal matters." Despite trying to keep her composure as queen, at that moment Alicent felt a sense of vulnerability, as if the queen’s facade of regal authority had slipped away.
“You do not burden me, your grace”, you say softly. “I'm happy to help.”
“Can I?”, you ask her softly for permission to start untying the laces of her intricate green dress. It was absolutely breathtaking. A deep dark green, decorated with lace and stones. It must have cost a fortune. The contrast of her green dress and the brown of her eyes, that shimmered in the light of the candles around the room and made it look like flowing honey, made your head feel foggy.
Alicent nodded, “Yes, you may,” she replied politely. It was almost a whisper. She was slightly taken aback by your question. It seemed so simple, but to the queen it wasn’t. Her body was never hers, she had never been asked to be touched before, and your simple question of permission made her heart warm. The two of you always had this sort of tension. The air feeling thicker when you got close. You spend a lot of time together, since you were her personal guard, but somewhere along the way you created a special bond. The two of you didn't speak a lot, but Alicent knew you were loyal to her family, but mostly to her, and always stood by her, no matter what. You made the Queen feel things she hadn’t felt since Rhaenyra and her were young.
As you approached, Alicent presented her back to you, the laces of her emerald green gown flowing down her waist like intricate strands of thread. The Queen's breath hitched slightly as her guard gently removed the complex knots, the feeling of your strong hands touching her being strangely soothing to her.
And as you worked on undoing the laces, Alicent's breath grew softer as the tension from her dress lessened. The queen's back was bared for you to see, you gulped when you saw the smooth skin of her back being presented to you. The room being filled by the smell of rose petals and the steam from the bath, representing the growing tension between the two of you.
Your fingertips brush slightly against the queen's back as you remove the last of the laces. Taking a step back, you allow Alicent her space to undress further.
Alicent gracefully let her dress fall down, pooling on the stone floor like cascading waves. The queen's pale skin contrasted against the deep emerald-colored fabric, and as she stood in her smallclothes, the queen felt a strange sense of vulnerability.
She could feel her guard's gaze upon her back, but there was something strangely comforting by the presence of someone who didn't seek to take advantage of her body or her power, but simply to serve and protect.
Letting out a quick cough, you turn around with your cheeks reddening, so she can rid herself of the last layer and get into the bath.
With her guard's eyes turned away, Alicent slipped out of her smallclothes and stepped into the awaiting bathtub. The warm water enveloped her body, and some of the day's exhaustion melted away in its embrace. As she settled into the bath, the queen sighed softly, relishing in the feeling of clean, warm water against her skin.
The moment you turn back around, your breath hitches. Although the cloudy water hides most of her body, you have never seen her like this, and your imagination runs wild about what hides beneath the rippling service of the water. You quickly shake your head to get rid of the inappropriate thoughts about the queen.
“Ehm, ill leave you to it then, your grace”, you say as you try to look away from her naked figure. Once you pick up you armor and leave for the door, a soft voice stops you in your tracks.
“Wait,” Alicent's voice interrupts you, “stay.” There is a flicker of longing in her eyes as she speaks out to you.
You feel like you are in a dream right now. “Excuse me, your grace?”, you ask to make sure you heard the Queen correctly.
Alicent repeats her words, her voice tinged with a subtle plea. "Stay. Please... stay with me."
The queen's gaze remains fixed on you, and the vulnerability in her eyes is a sharp contrast to the regal composure that she so often wears around the castle.
You drop your stuff to the floor, your gaze never leaving hers. “Where do you want me?”
She points to an antique stool next to the bathtub. “Just keep me company for a while.”
The queen's voice is laced with sincerity and a touch of exhaustion, her gaze meeting yours with a hint of tenderness and longing.
Without another word, you walk over to the stool next to the bath and take a seat, arm resting on the side of the tub. Alicent leans back against the bathtub, relishing the warmth and comfort it provides.
“Thank you,” she whispers softly, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of her lips.
As you sit in silence for a moment, you try not to let your eyes wander to her barely covered body. Alicent remains quiet, her gaze drifting to the surface of the water, which slightly shifts and ripples along with the movements of her body. The heat from the water and the rose-scented steam fills the air, creating a calming atmosphere. The queen's body is mostly hidden, and yet the gentle swell of her curves are visible through the water, adding an air of mystery and intrigue to her presence.
When you catch yourself looking at her body, you quickly look up, only to be met with her brown eyes already on yours. Alicent notices your gaze upon her, and a soft blush tints her cheeks. Neither of you look away, and for a moment, the tension in the air thickens.
“I'm sorry your grace, that was inappropriate”, you say as you go to stand up, but she grabs your sleeve as not to let you leave her side
"It's alright, please... stay." Alicent's voice is a tender whisper, and as she grasps the sleeve of your shirt, her touch is gentle but insistent. Her eyes hold a faint hint of vulnerability. Without breaking their eye contact, Alicent gently tugs on your sleeve, a silent plea for you to stay. Her touch makes your breath hitch, and you sit back down, not leaving her gaze
Alicent's eyes continue to hold yours with a mix of vulnerability and comfort. The heat of the water, the scent of the oils, and the quiet intimacy shared between the two of you create a sense of closeness that goes beyond mere companionship.
Alicent's hand remains gently resting on the edge of the tub, within your reach. So you decide to make the first move. “Tell me if you want me to stop, your grace”, you say, before letting your fingertips softly touch her hand, slowly dragging them up the length of her arm.
Alicent's heart skips a beat as she feels your touch, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. Her breath catches in her throat, and her eyes follow the movement of your hand with a mix of anticipation and eagerness. After a moment of excruciating silence, she finally whispers, "Keep going," in a low, enticing voice. The queen felt like her skin is set ablaze, and she leans into your touch ever so slightly.
When you suddenly stand up, Alicent wants to protest, but before she can speak up, you move the stool behind her and sit back down. Your hands make contact with her shoulders, massaging away the tension of the day. A soft sigh of contentment escapes Alicent's lips as she feels the firm yet gentle pressure of your hands on her shoulders and neck. The queen's body relaxes under your touch, the tension, and stress of the day melting away as you work out the knots and kinks in her muscles. Your touch is soothing, and the queen closes her eyes, savouring in the sensations.
As you keep massaging her body you move your head closer to her ear. "Would you like me to keep going your grace?" you speak in a hushed tone.
At your quiet whisper, a shiver runs down Alicent's spine, and her response comes in a low and breathless voice. "Yes," she whispers, her eyes half-lidded with pleasure. "Keep going...please.."
As your fingertips work their magic, the queen leans further back into your embrace, her body surrendering to the sensations you create. Sliding one of your hands over her shoulder, you move it towards the water. The queen's body responds to your ministrations, her chest rising and falling slightly as she lets out a soft gasp. The mixture of pleasure and excitement is undeniable as your fingers graze against her soft skin.
Alicent's breath hitches as your hands make contact with her breast, the sudden intimacy and sensation sending a jolt of desire through her body, towards her core. Her back arches slightly at your touch, a soft moan escaping her lips.
"Just relax, Alicent." you speak up. "I've got you."
Your other hand mirrors the one on already on her breast and you begin to massage her chest, teasing her by sliding your hands across her nipples. When her breathing becomes more ragged, your movement become bolder. Playing with her nipples makes the Queen moan and mewl softly. You decide these sounds might be the holliest of things you have ever experienced. Kissing her neck, you can feel her pulse quicken. Never had Alicent felt such pleassure as she did now. Never had she been taken care of like this, being pleassured without being demanded something in return.
Alicent sits up more, exposing her chest to you. The top of her back that wasnt against the tub, now pressed against your front. One of your hands abandons her nipple and traverses lower under the water. When you reach her intimacy, the Queen holds in her breath. Cupping her pussy, you can feel how wet she is, even while she is submerged in the tub.
As Alicent turns her head back and to the side, you stare into her big doe eyes. Her mouth hangs open slightly as your palm slowely starts rubbing her clit. The Queen's soft sighs turn into moans and curses as the friction increases.
The hand that was still playing with her nipples, moved to her face, pulling her closer so you lips were mere inches apart. You press your lips to hers in a seering kiss, and at the same time you push a single diget inside of her. Alicent moans into the kiss, but returns it feverishly, her hand tugging at your shirt, pulling you closer. You have to try not to fall into the tub with her.
The moment you start pumping you finger inside of her, she loses it. God, if you knew the Queen of Westeros would be this loud in bed, you would have made the first move ages ago.
"Please, please, please, please..." she says over and over again, the words spilling from her lips like a prayer.
"Shhh, ive got you." you reply, adding a second finger into her, slowly picking up the pace with which you fucked her. Some of the water violently splashing over the tub by now.
You could practically hear the seams of your shirt ripping, with the force Alicent was clawing at you. Your tounge explored her mouth as your fingers kept working their magic underneath the water.
"I- Im gonna..."
"Cum for me, your Alicent" you interupt her.
And like clockwork, Alicent came undone all over your fingers. Her back arching out of the water, a loud moan of your name filling the empty space. And as you let her ride out her orgasm on your fingers, you litered her skin with kisses. Showing her your love and loyalty. Not to her family, but to her and only her.
She shuddered when you pulled your fingers out of her. Pulling them out of the water and straight into your mouth, cleaning your hand of her juices, moaning at the sweet taste. The Queen just stared at you with wide eyes.
"Thank you...for that." Alicent spoke first after she had regained her breath. A rosy tint spreading across her cheeks.
"It was my pleasure, your grace." you anwer with a slight smirk. "The water is getting cold, let me help you out."
Alicent stood up in the tub, slightly emberassed to show her body to you, even after the activities the two of you just did. She never found herself quite attractive, her body in particular. It was made to bare children, nothing more. Thats the thought she had grown up with. But now, standing naked in that tub, with you staring at her like she was the most beautifull woman that had ever set foot on the earth, she felt like she wasnt just a tool for men to use and abuse. She felt seen and loved.
You lifted her out of the tub like she weighed nothing and pulled a large towel around her naked frame. Rubbing you hands over her arms to help her dry off. You let her dry herself off fully as you go over to blow out most of the candles, letting just a few lit for when she sleeps.
Standing back infront of her, Alicent had now dressed herself in her nightgown. You push a strand of hair behind her ear and cup her face, before kissing her one last time. For all you knew, this moment would be a once in a lifetime. Where the two of you would not speak of this ever, or you would wake up tomorrow to guards dragging you infront of a dragon to be its breakfast for what you just did to the Queen of Westeros. The kiss was short, but her lips felt heavenly on your own.
Alicent leans into the kiss. She felt like a teenager again. Deep down she knew this was wrong, but right now she had never felt this good.
"You should get some sleep" you say. "its late and you have a long day tomorrow."
"You are right" she says before kissing your cheek and climbing into bed.
"You can't stay, can you?" she asks. She knows the answer, but still sounds hopefull.
"I can't, but i will be right outside your door." you answer as you put your armor back on to stand guard at the Queens door all night.
As you go to leave, she stops you one last time.
"y/n?"
You turn around and see her all cozy in her bed. "Yes?"
"Thank you" she says in the most sincere way possible.
"Anytime." you answer, before leaving her room and closing the door behind you. You didnt know what would happen between the two of you now, but you meant it. You would be there for her, always, no matter what. You had told her many times but after tonight, Alicent might truly believed that.
#house of the dragon#hotd#hotd fanfic#alicent my beloved#alicent hightower x reader#alicent hightower#alicent hightower smut#wlw#wlw fanfictions#olivia cooke#game of thrones#olivia cooke x reader#team green
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Astarion, his siblings and his "victims"
I wrote a blog about how I really do not get those folks, who do honestly in their heart believe that Ascending Astarion is the "good" ending. And frankly, the comments that AA fans left underneath really make me just shake my head.
One of the people understanding my point also put a really good comment underneath:
Because I really get the feeling that the AA fans do not even consider the siblings and the "victims" of Cazador as actual characters within the story.
And yes, sure. From a writing perspective they are not big characters. I mean, the siblings do have very little in terms of background. Some have a bit more (mostly Leon and Darylia), the others a bit less, and then there is Yousen, about whom we know nothing but the name. And out of the other 7000 we obviously only really do know Sebastian in any regard. Which from a writing perspective is absolutely fair, because the focus definitely is on Astarion. Yet, the interactions you do have with the siblings - and with Sebastians - are meant for the player to understand that this is about empathy.
It is very likely that pretty much all of the siblings got abused just as much as Astarion - or at the very least lived in the same fear of abuse as Astarion. They are all the victims, even though it is fairly likely that they also abused each other. That is just something that abusers use in their advantage: Trying to get their victims to abuse each other. BUT that does not stop them from being victims.
And yes, it is absolutely heavily implied that some of Astarion's "Victims" also have raped him (same with the other siblings). Because as he was ruled by the order of Cazador to bring him victims he had not even a lot of chance to fight back. But we know that is not true for all of those 7000 souls. Some of which will just be purely innocents, who got seduced or kidnapped, and who have at times been made to suffer endless hunger in that dungeon for at times 100 and 200 years!
This means that to ascend Astarion, what you do is to kill a lot of innocent victims of abuse. More than that, you are with it condoning the abuse their abuser had put them through - because you are quite literally enacting the plan this abuser has come up with.
I feel this is a big thing that is also missed with the Vellioth memories. While Vellioth obviously would have prefered to live and go on abusing Cazador for years and years to come - he is also proud for Cazador to defeat him and then continue the circle of abuse. Because in Vellioth's minds he has "taught him well".
While yes, Cazador wants to ascend himself, at least if Astarion ascends all the planning for the ritual, and all the "lessons" he has taught were not for nothing. Astarion will continue Cazador's legacy. He will simply become the next Cazador, until inevitably one of his own spawn will rise up against him and so on and so forth.
If Astarion ascends, Cazador lives on through Astarion. Because in that case Astarion does all the things Cazador would've wanted to happen.
Of course we as players are biased for Astarion, because not only is he the one vampire spawn we know, but we really get to know him really good. Not the very least given the fact that Astarion also is literally the companion with the most playtime for his companion quest. But just for a thought experiment imagine that by sheer luck one of the other spawn also has gotten loose from Cazador and was doing a quest with some of their own companions, while Tav/Durge, Astarion and other companions were doing theirs. And now imagine that other spawn - no matter who of the other six it might have been - went in wanting to sacrifice everyone else, including Astarion, to ascend themselves.
I can guarantee you, that each of them could have made as much of an argument for it, as Astarion.
Would you still think that would be a good thing?
By all means, argue about the fact of how good the relationship between Ascended Astarion and your own Tav/Durge might be. How it is totally not an abusive relationship despite the non-consensual choking...
But that does not change the fact that the ascension itself is a bad thing that is going to continue Cazador's plan and Cazador's legacy.
And no, there is simply no world in which killing 7000 people, of whom all have been abused before, while at least several thousand of them are innocent, is "the good thing".
... Also, I just want more fandom content about the vampire siblings, because I just think they are neat.
#baldur's gate#baldurs gate 3#bg3#astarion#astarion ancunin#the pale elf#cazador szarr#bg3 cazador#bg3 aurelia#bg3 yousen#bg3 leon#bg3 petras#bg3 darylia#bg3 violet#vampire spawn#analysis#media analysis#cw abuse#abusive relationship
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why juni ba’s the boy wonder has my favorite jason characterization of any contemporary comic run: a needlessly in-depth analysis (pt.2)
alright here we are with part two! i promised i'd be quick with it, didn't i? you can find part one here. thank you guys so much for all the nice comments, i love yapping to a receptive audience :D
so, if you haven't read part one, i've been going over the common critques of ba's characterization of jason, the main three being:
the typical boiling down of jason's character to "the angry one"
his lack of strategy going into the fight with the demon is out-of-character
the neighbor's kid interaction
in the first part we went over #1, so now were gonna look at #2!
so, a problem people have with the story is how ba writes jason's reaction to the fight with rok (white tophat demon guy); damian and jason jump into the fight with seemingly no preparation at all, "underestimating" rok and paying the price for it.
i'll be honest, i do agree with this critque a bit. jason, if he is nothing else, is an obsessive planner and strategist; his back-up plans have back-up plans, and so on. we see this in plenty of his comic renditions, especially in lost days and under the red hood, where there are numerous examples of jason's competency. despite this, many comics fall into the habit of treating him as the "reckless, stupid robin", once again reducing his character to just his anger, usually to make the other robins more competent. looking at his actions in utrh & lost days, however, makes him jumping into a fight with no information uncharacteristic.
so, i sort of agree with this critque. HOWEVER. i will attempt to rationalize this part of ba's writing (because there are still parts of it i disagree with and it's more fun than just agreeing and moving on)
alright, to begin, lets look at these three different series; utrh (under the red hood), lost days, and the boy wonder. there is obviously many other examples out there, but i'm just gonna focus on these three for now because otherwise we'd be here all day.
in utrh & lost days, jason is driven by an obvious goal with an obvious end result; in utrh his goal is making bruce kill the joker & taking over gotham's underbelly, and in lost days it is getting skilled enough to complete the previously mentioned objective. i also chose to highlight the scene where jason puts a bomb underneath the batmobile in lost days, intending to kill bruce, because it's another very clear example of jason's strategic prowess. the whole bomb thing even happens before jason starts his murder training, making the feat even more impressive.
ba's jason, though, exists in a reality post-utrh; his plan failed and he must live with the consequences and implications of that truth. the recklessness that he presents in the fight in the boy wonder could be a representation of him grappling with this idea-- his supposed failure and banishment obviously must have had an effect on his psyche, and ba is attempting to portray that. ba plays a lot with the sadder side of jason's existence in the comic, so it's a plausibly theory, even if it is admittedly reaching a bit.
additionally, referring back to the earlier conversation about jason's anger in the first part of this discussion, i have the same sentiments about portrayal's of jason's recklessness. he can possess a strategic mind while still being reckless; it's his numerous paradoxical character traits that make him such an interesting character (at least to me). he's a mess of contradictions.
furthermore, while jason's actions are reckless and brash in this specific instance of the story, that does not mean that ba presents him as a reckless character. there's a difference between a reckless character and a character being reckless, and i feel like jason mostly falls into the latter. while maybe not super obvious, jason's tactical-ness is still present in ba's portrayal. this is represented through damian's responses and reactions to jason.
the fact that damian goes to jason for help in the first place is baffling. as a prideful kid desperate to prove himself, damian is not predisposed to asking for help, which is clearly presented in the first issue when he interacts with dick and babs.
damian's willingness to work with jason could be a result of him recognizing their similarities; he's more approachable than dick "golden boy" grayson. beyond that, he goes to jason because he needs a certain set of skills to help him catch the demon.
while jason is not able to fully present his usefulness at this task because the demon finds them first, he is clearly seen taking charge of the situation and dictating their plan to locate the demon, and damian actually defers to him. while brief, this instance represents that despite his recklessness in the battle against rok, ba still accurately presents jason's tactical skills, underscoring the intelligence he has that so many author's ignore or downplay.
i could go into how this plays into jason being a foil character to damian, but i'll save it for another day. sorry if this post is a little nonsensical, i did my best. i'll finish up my analysis in part 3! :)
part 1 / part 3
#dc comics#jason todd#batman#dc#robin#red hood#batfamily#batfam#dick grayson#damian wayne#the boy wonder#juni ba#juni ba's the boy wonder#tuesday spoilers#nightwing#barbara gordon#red hood: the lost days#under the red hood
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Ok I don't know anything about Cod but am curious to know who of your faves is most likely to lovingly hold you on a chokehold and do they prefer to use their biceps or thighs to do so!
Yes this is the same anon who asked about chokehold bicep Bi-Han many moons ago and I do apologize for my fixation on muscular men flexing their muscles on reader 🙏 love your writing btw!
I hope you know anon that I ALSO have a fixation on muscular men flexing their muscles on reader (I think I wrote something similar for Cassidy from ow a while back) so I happily invite you to return to my inbox. That being said—
Johnny 100000% would. He loves it when you look at him, the guy has a serious peacock-like attitude where he’ll walk around in wife beaters and sleeveless shirts as an excuse to flex around you. He knows you love his body, but even better is the satisfaction of knowing he can grab your attention so reliably. If there is anything he loves, it’s your eyes on him.
He realizes just how badly you love his muscles when you ask him if he can put you in a chokehold. The question makes his eyebrow raise a bit before a smile sweet as sin spreads across his face.
“So, wanna get nice and personal?” And before you can take back what you said he spreads his meaty thighs nice and wide, pats the corded muscle of them and invites you close.
“Come on then, time’s wasting.”
Which is how you ended up with your head trapped between his elbow, his deep Scottish voice tickling your ear with each sound. He hasn’t even fucked you yet, just let his cock rub between your thighs, your pussy leaving an embarrassingly large wet spot right on the front of his pants.
“There ye go, nice and gentle,” he coos, just barely rocking himself to your rhythm. “We’re not in a rush, just sit back and enjoy yerself.”
He squeezes his arm just a bit harder and you swear you see stars, the lack of oxygen making your head light. A second, another, a third passes when he lightens his hold on your neck and you’re finally given a reprieve, only for him to repeat it all over again.
“Should fuckin’ see yerself, cute hips trying to bounce on what isn’t there,” he groans, holding your legs wider so he can slide his cock against your clothed sex. “Want me inside yet? Want me to choke ye while I make ye cum?”
Your body burns with exhaustion, hips bucking into the air with each word. You frantically nod your head as much as you can, and in response Johnny makes you a deal.
“Go on then doll, cum for me just like this and I’ll make sure to fuck ye just how ye need it.”
That’s all it took to having you chasing your release, nails leaving crescents against the skin of his strong forearm. Your breath hitches, a pathetic whine leaving your lips, a sloppy mess of his name as you cum.
His praise is nothing short of worship, fingers dipping underneath your pants to touch your sensitive pussy for the first time, astonished at the slick that coats his fingers with each swipe.
“Fuck me, you really did it…” he says amazed, then quickly carries you to the bed. “You’re coming like that at least twice on my cock before I even think about letting you out of the house.”
#all of the cod men love showing off for you but Johnny. that one LIVES for it.#robo speaks#ask#call of duty smut#call of duty x reader#john mactavish x reader#john mactavish#john mactavish smut#soap x reader#soap smut#john soap mactavish#cod modern warfare
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one of these days i'm going to write up all that i've changed from azzarello's bullshit era and the one (1) piece i've kept from milligan (and also changed) and the only thing currently stopping me is that it is going to be so, so inside-baseball incomprehensible. and i almost never want to go reading/screencapping azzarello and milligan to add references but i Want to add references.
canon is goop, just know that we continue to ride the bus down "hellblazer ended at #250 and looks like swiss cheese before that" street.
#( ooc. ) OUT OF CIGS.#i'm doing page maintenance before i fuck off to work rip it's got me thinking#anyway i think i said WAY back on this blog that a side goal of mine is to make hellblazer lore accessible to non-comic readers where i can#bc it's such a Heavy comic & i love it so much & i always felt Terrible recommending it to people only for them to be disgusted#and like. @ past me that particular goal is NOT as easy as you thought it would be lmao#esp because i have a habit of getting VERY detail-oriented when it comes to talking about hellblazer i think#but by GOD it's still a goal. i can put in some motherfucking references here and there when i talk about The Lore#like. azzarello's writing style never translates well for me in synopsis bc he Loves to put the audience in the outside perspective#where we are bystanders/with the rest of the bystanders to constantine's actions and not to his motivations/inner monologue#and i HATE that. hellblazer has ALWAYS been about what this guy has going on underneath the masked exterior#all the things you can't say out loud when you're queer and working class trying to survive in 70s-80s-90s england#but that you FEEL with your WHOLE fucking chest. how that feeling drives you to enjoy little rebellions wherever you can get them#(also azzarello just fucking Sucks LMAO but i'm talking style rn)#so i end up relying on frusin's art to tell the story a little more bc i think he understands the Theatre of constantine's public persona#and when that theatre is Absent then it's really REALLY noticeable. so frusin keeps me in it most of the time#and if i'm digging into frusin art then i'm Going to want to compare it to older panels bc i like body language consistency#milligan on the other hand has NOTHING to save his sorry ass bc his writing is drop-jaw fucking terrible AND the artist seems to like it#but the loss of john's thumb being tied to his mental health (ignoring the bullshit with shade) has always felt. important to me somehow id#anyway MUCH thinking about my favorite loser on this about-to-be-annoying day shdjksd he has been done so dirty#hellblazer brain go brrrr
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one day i’ll write an articulate post about why the gavin brothers are the most emotionally repressed people in ace attorney and maybe ever but in two entirely separate ways but as of right now whenever i think about that very concept i feel like screaming into a bottomless well so that idea is on hold
#saturn.txt#but you guys know the post right#the one about how the most emotionally repressed person is the one who#acts extremely friendly and shows surface level acceptable emotions#but never the true emotions underneath#you know that post right. you know klavier gavin right#klavier gavin who i can only imagine has perfected his emotions to a t#here is what he can get mad at here is what he can't#he can't cry unless it's picture perfect and he's always amicable for the right people#you know how kristoph gavin has the black locks right#how even at the end he won't talk about why he did what he did#THIS is why ic an't write either of these characters in a satisfying way#because they're so fucking complicated when it comes to emotions and and and#screaming at the top of my lungs only one of them will likely have the chance to open up again#but will he do it? would he do it?#how does klavier gavin even begin to untangle his emotions#did hiding them away from the world make them manifest in major outbursts?#does he just dissociate instead? what has happened what happened#rattling him back and forth#i love the other characters in AA but you cannot tell me that anyone is more repressed than the shit these two have going on
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Tw infertility
#i have this thing where i keep hanging onto objects because i attach them to a certain moment in my life#so they end up in drawers and boxes little buried treasures for me to find#we changed our nightstands. and i had to go through my old one#somewhere in the back of my mind i must have known why i kept refusing to go through it#why i kept putting it off#underneath the knicks and knacks and the highlighters and all the pens#and some old medicine and post its and even some buttons i thought id lost#were 6 pages neatly folded. meant to be forgotten because i just couldn't throw them away at the time#every tracked cycle. and every measurement of my ovaries and ovules neatly documented. with a complete list of meds and supplements#because ofc i was being pumped full of those too#every failed iui tracked to the very last detail--to the hour#so here i am on the floor of my bedroom 5 years later staring at those 6 pages#proof of the worst days of my life#it's funny because i kept telling myself then that there would be a point to it all to all the pain and the tears and the prodding#and the only way i could push through at the time was write 'failed :(' next to each cycle#and now i still feel like a 'failed :(' person#on the very last page there's still 'failed' written next to it. and you can tell there used to be a :( too#but not anymore because over it theres a heart in black and blue pen#and i have no recollection of it but it must have been me#and on the corner of the same page i seem to have written 'it's ok'#not that i remember but it is my handwriting. and it is the way i draw hearts#i guess i've always got me#im sure there's some deeper message here but now im feeling the post-cryimg crash#and i have stuff to arrange#I've added a trigger warning just in case#i still dont know what to do with my 6 pages#love you. it's ok.
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An idea popped into my head that I feel you would write very well!
Rafe x virgin!reader. They are having a pretty heavy make out sesh, he slips his hand into her pants and then she just blurts it out? Like, "I'm a virgin," and she's like terrified. But rafe doesn't mind at all.
(also, is the 🪩 taken.)
oh my goodness!! I’m obsessed with this. no it is not taken omg welcome to the club!!!!!!!!!! ty so much for requesting 😚😚😚😚
your night with rafe had gone as perfect as any night could have, dinner by the beach, watching the sun go down while you ate dessert, and then heading back to tannyhill with him for the night, like you always did.
your nights with rafe always ended the same day, crawling into bed wearing one of his big shirts and then making out until you were soaking through your panties and rafe was hard beneath you. you're sure that rafe might have guessed you're a virgin by now, from the way everything he does is so new to your body, reacting primally to every touch. the two of you fall asleep like that, and you feel tingly from your head to your toes, waiting for rafe to say something about going further.
you're sure he would. there's no doubt in your mind that he's ready to, and he's probably done this with a million girls before you-a thought that makes you want to cry, but you put that aside. you're rafe's now, and you know that giving him your virginity is part of the deal. you're not sure just when that'll be, since he has you in your panties nearly every night.
maybe it'd be tonight. when the two of you get back to his room, you head for his dresser immediately to pull out a shirt, but rafe pushes you against the door. he leans down into a deep kiss, and you let it progress, hands snaking into his hair while he holds your waist tightly, his own hands running up and down the soft material of your sundress.
it's a little uncomfortable against the door like this, but rafe eases you up immediately, your legs wrapping around him while he pins you in place. you don't mean to start moving your hips, grinding down against him, it's just instinct, chasing that toe-curling feeling that you haven't been able to feel with rafe yet. his hands snake further down to the hem of your dress, and then slide underneath the material to the smooth skin of your legs.
rafe's hands keep traveling, gripping your thighs while he keeps you locked in a kiss that has you feeling dizzy, would have your knees weak if he wasn't holding you up. his tongue pokes into your mouth, and you moan around it, not even wanting to pull away to breathe.
you have to, though. rafe's hands are at the waistband of your panties, and just as he starts to grope, finding where he can yank them down so he can finally do what he wants to you, you pull away, hands resting flat on his chest.
he likes you like this--hair disheveled, lips red and swollen, the strap of your dress hanging off your shoulder. he leans in, pressing a kiss to your shoulder and then your collar, then up your neck.
"rafe," you whine, but it's easy to let him keep going. "we should stop-"
his eyes dart up to meet yours, pulling his face away from your neck.
"why would i do that, hm?" he kisses you again, but you turn your head away. "finally got you where i want you."
"i-well, i'm a virgin, rafe." it falls out of your mouth, even though you've spent countless hours thinking about the best way to tell him. you've thought everything through, how to say it, how to reply based on his response, how to deal with the embarrassment you're sure to feel.
"yeah?" he questions, pulling away to look at you in the eyes. still pushed against the wall, you can feel his hard dick pressed against you. the two of you don't move an inch, besides for the nodding of your head to answer his question.
"so, no one else has ever touched you where m'touching you?"
you shake your head.
"and no one's ever seen you like this?"
you shake again, feeling your eyes get watery.
"i'm sorry-"
"why're you saying sorry? told you to stop doin' that."
"because... because it's embarrassing."
"says who? hm?"
"says everyone. right?"
"no, kid. not me. you want me to stop?" your body melts into his grip. you shake your head again. "good girl. c'mon, get on the bed. not taking your virginity against this door."
#THIS WAS SOO FUN!!! <333#pls come again!!!! lmk if you liked it???#📮 asks#rafe cameron#rafe cameron x reader#🪩 anon
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Would you be able to write if {Michael, Brahms, and Thomas} found out their s/o had a breeding kink.
Breeding kink
With Michael, Brahms, Thomas
Michael
He honestly doesn't know what to do with this information but he will save it for later.
One night you were particularly stubborn and the easiest way for Michael to coax you into doing what he wants is to abuse your poor little entrance. You know he hasn't touched you for weeks and him just teasing you with just his tip probing at the entrance that awaits his full length, fluttering and welcoming him with open arms but he doesn't give in.
"M-michael please.. " you tried to beg for him to just fuck you, insert his full length into you despite him not wearing a condom right now. "Please Michael I'll do whatever the fuck you ask me just fuck me outta my misery.. " you said frustrated already, you know despite his mask, he's smirking underneath. Without a warning, he shoved his whole cock inside making you yelp and ease up around his length. He hooked your legs onto his shoulders and started fucking. His balls slapping your ass and you can hear it making lewd noises. On how rough he was being you can't help but feel your orgasm coming. You grasp whatever words you have left in your cock drunk brain and said "cum in me! Get me fucking pregnant!! " you screamed. Now, he's curious. You want his seed? You want your tummy full of his babies, your breasts swollen with milk? He's not too sure about this but hell you were such a good girl for him right now looking all needy and disheveled, maybe just this once he will fuck you full of his seed.
Brahms
The fact that he was spying on you watching porn and your fingers melting into your very Nectar. He has to know what you were watching so he can replace those damn fingers with his cock. So while you were asleep he swiped your phone and in the safety of his walls he played the video he saw.
He couldn't take off his eyes on that pussy being abused and edged by this guy's long shaft. The video was about to end until the guy pulled out a mix of their cum oozing out of her cunt onto the bed as she shivered from all the orgasm she had. You were watching this while your fingers were desperately trying to make you cum like the needy slut that you are? He didn't want you to suffer when all you needed was his cock and his buckets of cum in you.
After he persuaded you to do it with him he's already in you with no foreplay whatsoever rubbing your clit so roughly while snapping his hips with yours. "Ugh.. All mine Mine!! " he said going faster just burying you on the bed, ass up. He slapped your ass until it was red making you yelp while you felt his cock ramming itself in and out. You had no energy to tell him to slow down but gosh it felt so good when he's this rough! "Get pregnant Get pregnant Get pregnant!! " he chanted while rearranging your insides. Gosh how many orgasms have you had and how many loads does he need to fill you with until he's satisfied?
Thomas
He couldn't help but imagine how your legs wraps around his waist pulling him closer to you while he ruts your very hole. He couldn't help but notice how unresponsive you were after 2-3 rounds and he just couldn't get his mind off on how his meaty cock was a bit visible on your cute tummy while he fucked you up.
He didn't understand what a breeding kink was until you blurted out that he should cum inside you that day.
In the morning while you and his family were having breakfast, Luda Mae asked if you two were gonna have children soon since you couldn't even be separated from Thomas. You choked on your water then looked at Thomas who was already blushing but nodded that he indeed plans to have children with you sooner or later but until you get married to him.
One particular night after that you couldn't take it anymore. He kept cumming outside and on you! He was so careful not to get you pregnant until marriage. "T-thomas please.. Just cum in me! Please I can't wait till marriage I'm already yours!! " you blurted out. He stopped for a moment but then picked up the pace as he rutted into you fucking your g-spot over and over again as he groans in agreement. Mixing your juices and his pre-cum so deliciously and night after night he kept fucking you full of his loads and every time after that you felt satisfied even after you conclude that you were indeed pregnant now.
#slasher fucker#slasher x you#slashers x reader#slasher imagines#slasher headcanons#slasher smut#michael myers x y/n#michael myers headcanons#michael myers smut#brahms x you#brahms smut#brahms x reader#brahms heelshire#brahms the boy#brahms heelsire x reader#thomas hewitt headcanon#thomas hewitt smut#thomas hewitt
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You write fluff and flangst absolutely amazingly and I’m in awe every dang time!
Buuut since you’ve got spring break coming up, a little fic idea that’s in my head that I’ll never do justice! (If you’re interested)
Fem!reader finding out an adorable way to tell Spencer she’s pregnant. I don’t care if they’re dating or married or what - but like she puts together a crossword, or a puzzle and he just doesn’t get it. (If you wanna throw angst in, he leaves without getting it for a case and then realizes it in the middle of the night.)
puzzling | S.R.
trying to tell Spencer you're pregnant, but he's too concerned with your well-being to fill out your custom crossword puzzle
who? spencer reid x fem!reader
category: fluff
content warnings: pregnancy and misc. symptoms., talk of fainting and blood tests.
word count: 1.69k
a/n: welcome back to the spencer reid dilf agenda! i hope this does your request justice and thank you for entrusting me with this idea!!!! <3
you
It was your pride and joy, the collection of folded papers that sat on the kitchen counter, next to a cup of coffee that you had already filled for him.
On your fake newspaper, you had created a custom crossword puzzle. With four very important clues.
Across: “Early stage of life”
Across: “American actress Frances _”
Down: “Must be finished by”
Down: “Veteran’s Day month”
You smiled softly to yourself as you heard Spencer’s footsteps coming down the staircase. Padding over to the kitchen counter, you sat on one of the stools, a cup of tea in front of you.
Before he even looked at the newspaper, Spencer leaned over to kiss you good morning, “You look tired,” he whispered, hooking a finger under your chin as if he were investigating the dark circles underneath your eyes.
“Way to make a girl feel good about herself,” you teased lightly, even though you knew he was right. At least you felt tired.
He rolled his eyes, “You know that’s not what I meant.” Turning to grab his mug of coffee off of the counter, he observed you again, “Are you sure your doctor said nothing was wrong?”
Smiling, you gave him a brief nod. You had gone to see your doctor a few days ago for nausea and fatigue, and Spencer would’ve gone with you had he not been on the other side of the country on a case. “They’re running some tests, but they didn’t see anything blatantly wrong,” the doctor was running a few blood tests, checking your iron levels and HCG.
Using his free hand, Spencer reached over and moved a lock of hair out of your face, “They said your blood pressure was low?”
Low blood pressure, as it turned out, was a pregnancy symptom that was most common in the first trimester. “You’re freaking out over nothing, Spence,” you told him. Really, it was something. A rather large something – or small, depending on how you wanted to look at it. “Come on, it’s crossword time,” you told him, using the end of the pen to tap on the newspaper.
“I worry about you when I’m away. You do know that low blood pressure can cause syncope, right? Did they prescribe you anything for it?” He asked, ignoring your wishes to move on and do the crossword.
There was a small part of you that just wanted to tell him, but frankly, you had worked too hard on the crossword puzzle to give yourself away like that. You couldn’t tell him that they didn’t prescribe you anything because they didn’t know how far along you were. A larger part of you knew that if you just got him to work on the puzzle, he would have his answers in about seven minutes.
Then his phone rang, he pulled the device out of his pocket, and the Caller ID on the screen caused you to slump your shoulders forward. It was Garcia. “Hey Garcia,” he greeted on the phone, “at the tarmac?”
You set your head on the counter and sighed in defeat as Spencer hung up the phone.
“Are you alright?” He asked you softly, tenderly wrapping an arm around your torso.
Humming, you sat back up, ignoring the stars in your field of vision as you did so. “I’m fine, you should go,” you insisted.
Spencer shook his head, “No, you’re sick. I’ll call Garcia back and tell her I have to stay back.” Acting bewildered at the idea that he had been so remiss as to agree to do his job while you were unwell.
You reached out and set a hand on his, “It’s alright, love. I can take care of myself,” you reminded him. Besides the fact that you were wholly self-sufficient, the only reason why Spencer would be asked to meet the team at the tarmac was if they were headed toward a particularly gnarly case – they needed all hands on deck.
“Promise me you’ll check in? Call your mom if you need any help, please,” he requested, pleading eyes following you as you got up to hug him.
Nodding, you wrapped your arms around him, “You should take the crossword with you.” Pulling away, you haphazardly refolded the newspaper and handed it to him.
Furrowing his brow, Spencer inspected the paper that you had given him. “We always do the crossword together on Saturdays,” he found you incredibly helpful on the pop culture clues. “We could save this one and then have two for next week,” he offered.
God. No. Your eyes widened at the idea of having to keep your secret for another week, shaking your head, you shrugged, “No, you should take it. It’ll make me look forward to next week even more,” you insisted.
He folded, and with a sweet kiss to the forehead, he was off to go save lives, remaining entirely unaware of the one growing inside of you.
him
The judgmental Italian behind him was proving to be a distraction, “Did you find something?” Spencer asked, eyeing the evidence board with frustration. Something bugged him about the case, and he couldn’t figure out exactly what it was.
“Not right now, but it’s three in the morning,” Rossi said, joining Spencer by the evidence board. “Why don’t you give that big brain of yours a break?”
Shaking his head, Spencer crossed his arms in front of his chest, “I tried. I can’t stop thinking about the case.” Men were popping up dead in a small Missouri town at an alarming rate, and he felt so close to a breakthrough.
Dave nodded like he understood the feeling, that was probably why he had emerged from his hotel room so early, returning to the precinct before the sun peeked over the horizon. “What do you usually do to wind your brain down?”
Raising his eyebrows, Spencer shrugged, “Crossword puzzles,” he admitted, any word puzzle would do the trick.
The chuckle from the older man next to him startled Spencer, “Now, why doesn’t that surprise me?” Rossi looked around the precinct, “I’m sure we can find one around here somewhere.”
“No,” Spencer said, “I have one in my bag, actually.” He refrained from including the detail that you had given him the crossword puzzle, or else he’d never hear the end of it.
Clapping him on the back, Rossi lifted his coffee cup, “Then I suggest you go take the thirty seconds to fill out that puzzle and then get some rest.”
Once he was back in his hotel room, he changed before pulling out the pile of papers that you had sent him off with. Sitting on top of the bed, he filled out the puzzle in approximately six minutes and forty-three seconds. Once the letters were filled in, he skimmed the puzzle – just to check it over.
The only one that might’ve given him trouble was about an American actress – usually he had you to help him with pop culture, but he recalled having the same last name as an actress in Days of Our Lives.
It was interesting that the words “Baby” and “Reid” were right next to each other.
Wait.
Quickly, he calculated the odds that the words “Baby” “Reid” “Due” and “November” were all in the puzzle and when the numbers were put together, they made your anniversary. Spencer just as quickly called you, listening to the phone ringing.
His heart was racing as he waited to see if you answered the phone. “Hey,” your groggy voice came through the receiver.
“Where did you get this crossword puzzle?” He asked you, flipping through the rest of the newspaper for the first time.
You hummed softly, “You’re doing it right now?”
Looking at the alarm clock on his bedside table, he dropped his face into his hands. “I’m sorry, love. I didn’t even think about the time,” it was just past four in the morning now, making it just past five in the morning in Virginia. “I just thought that…” his voice trailed off. What if it was just a coincidence?
There was silence on your end of the call, and he wondered if you had fallen asleep. You hadn’t been feeling well, and he’d woken you up with his phone call. “You thought what, Spence?”
The teasing lilt in your voice had given you away to him immediately. He knew. Every one of his suspicions were confirmed, “Y/N Reid,” he breathed.
“Spencer Reid,” you countered.
He took a deep breath, “Are you pregnant?”
“Yeah,” you answered simply, with about as much enthusiasm as he expected from you at five in the morning.
It all started to make sense to him. The low blood pressure, the drowsiness, and even the slight caginess when it came to him asking about your doctor’s visit. He swiped away a few stray tears, “I don’t know what to say.” It wasn’t a feeling he was overly used to.
You cleared your throat, “Are you happy?” Nerves clouded your voice, and he could hear you becoming more awake – more alert.
“I am,” he searched aimlessly. Elated. Thrilled. Ecstatic. “I’m so happy,” he told you, at a loss for words. “I don’t know what to say, I just… God, are you okay?” Dread washed over him, you were alone, sick, and pregnant at home and he was halfway across the country.
Sighing, he heard a ruffling on the other end of the call. “I’m great. I’m exhausted, I had no idea being pregnant was so tiring. I mean, I knew, but I didn’t know.” You sighed again, “I’m not making any sense.”
He laughed lightly at your rambling, “You’re making perfect sense. Chances are your energy will return during the second trimester.”
“Don’t get my hopes up.” You paused again for just a moment, “I’m sorry if I scared you. With the whole doctor’s appointment thing. They really are keeping an eye on my blood pressure and whole slew of other things, but they know the root cause.”
A giddy smile grew on his face, “It’s because you’re pregnant.”
A soft hum came through the phone, “It’s because I’m pregnant,” you concurred.
#criminal minds#spencer reid#criminal minds fanfic#spencer reid fanfic#criminal minds fanfiction#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x you#written by margot#criminal minds fluff#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid fic#criminal minds fic#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid angst#criminal minds angst#spencer reid hurt/comfort#criminal minds hurt/comfort#margot's requests#mindfullymutual#spencer reid dilf agenda
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Ok but can you imagine if bombshell!reader who is pregnant does fall down somewhere?? Everyone, Spencer very much so, freaks out and she tries to play it off cool even though she’s really sore. She and baby are ok but she and Spencer are definitely shaken up by this and he’s even more hover-y from this ����🥲
ty for requesting <3
pregnant!reader falling and panicking lovely bf spencer, 1.3k
“We’re like, the dream team,” you say, sewing your arm through the crook of Spencer’s. He’s trying to zip up your jacket, which is difficult given the ever-growing curve of your stomach. With one arm, it’s hopeless.
“We are,” he murmurs obligingly, thinking about how cold it is outside and how you’ve yet to give in to the ‘ugly-fest’ of maternity clothes at work. It’s a shame. You look adorable in them at home. “Maybe you should put on your hoodie.”
“It’s fine, it’s like, three steps between the station and the hotel.” You smile at him. He loves your eyes, your lashes, and he forgets to be stern.
“Let’s go, then.” He waves at Emily where she’s chatting with an officer. “You ready?” he asks.
Penelope pops her head out of the office with her laptop bag tucked under her arm. “Let’s go home, my chickens.”
You and Spencer devolve into one of your murmured conversations, giggling, pressed arm to arm as you and the team emerge from the warmth of the police station and into the cold winter air. It’s sub zero outside, Spencer’s sure, wanting to get you back out of the elements as quickly as possible.
He takes the steps first and holds out his hand a few beneath. Emily laughs, says, “He’s so chivalrous,” to Penelope’s delight.
“He’s always been our gentleman,” Penelope says.
You look eager to agree. “He’s my prince,” you tease gently, taking his hand, leaning just a little too far forward.
Your foot slips out from underneath you with a sound like a knife scraping the snow. You fall hard and fast, and the horror is that your one leg trips more than the other and you end up slamming flat on your side.
Spencer has you up again before the slush can so much as wet your clothes, but it doesn’t matter. Your eyes go wider than he’s ever seen them and your lips struggle down into an immediate frown, a wobbly expression, alarm in your voice as you say, “Oh, woah.”
“Oh my god, Y/N, are you okay?” Penelope asks, she and Spencer rushing down to the bottom of the steps to meet you.
“Sit her down, Spencer,” Emily says quickly, not scornful or anything but her concern turning her tone hard.
“It’s wet,” he says, as his head bubbles up with horrible statistics.
“Spencer,” you say tightly, “I’m fine.”
You don’t look fine. He yanks his suit jacket off and drops it to the floor, a write off, he and Penelope encouraging you to sit on the bottom step. Your eyes are filled with tears, he suspects from panic and pain at once, and he doesn’t really know what to do in this situation for a second, he has to think back. It’s hard to think and hold your hands at the same time.
“It’s okay,” he says, enthusing his voice with false pep.
“What should we do?” Penelope asks, quicker to panic than the rest of you.
Spencer bends down in front of you. You’re the only person that matters in that moment. “What hurts?” he asks, hand hovering over your side. “Does anything hurt?”
“Yeah,” you breathe out, before shaking your head, “What about–” You cut yourself off. “Yeah.”
Spencer takes your wrist. “I’m gonna call Dr. Cordell right now. Okay? Just as a precaution. That’s what you’re supposed to do, okay?”
“I think I hurt my hip,” you say smally.
With some help from the girls, Spencer gets you back to the hotel. He calls your doctor, and they decide to get you an emergency check up with an antenatal doctor he knows while you’re still out of state. It feels less panicky and more dread while you wait, but the appointment goes well, and you’re given the all clear a few hours after your fall.
You’re uncharacteristically quiet at the hotel. Spencer asks if you’re alright and you say, “Of course,” while he spends the rest of the evening watching you wince.
It’s getting ready for bed where he finally gets you to crack for him. You’re not expecting to be sore, that much is clear, and you’re bashful asking for his help. “I can’t get my shirt over my head,” you say from the bathroom, with no need to shout. He can hear you from his not so casual seat at the foot of the bed.
He lost his tie a few hours ago, and his suit jacket lays soggy in a plastic bag on top of his suitcase. He rolls his sleeves up as he eases into the small bathroom, eyes dropping to the naked bump of your stomach where your shirt is pooled. You have a yellowy bruise taking form on your hip. Another on your bump, like the lines of the stone steps.
“Angel,” he murmurs, fingers glancing over the bruise gently.
“Doesn’t hurt.”
“You don’t have to lie.”
You poke him. “Help me get changed, handsome.” You laugh at your demanding. “Please help me get changed.”
“So rude,” he says.
He grabs the ends of your shirt and pulls it up your back and over the back of your head so as to not agitate your cut up elbow again. You sigh as he pulls it clean, leaving you shirtless and gorgeous in the bathroom, despite all your worrying. He should tell you. He can’t not tell you, really.
“You’re so beautiful,” he says, taking your shoulders into his hands.
“Even with the baby weight?” you ask.
He rubs your arm. “You’ve never been this beautiful.”
“Oh, no, don’t say that.” You cover his arm with yours, hand over his, fingers intertwining loosely.
“You’re always…” He leans down. He’d been about to stop himself, but he continues, lips just an inch from yours, the two of you eye to eye. “Beautiful. I’m sorry about today, it was my fault.”
“It was my fault.”
“I should’ve been more careful, I knew it was cold enough for frost.”
“I should’ve been more careful,” you say, frowning at him indignantly, “I know how fragile I am right now and I’m not being careful enough.”
“You slipped,” he argues. It could only be an accident.
“What if she felt it?” you whisper.
Spencer was trying to assuage your fears and he’d been planning on a kiss, but a hug feels more important in that moment, a careful loop of his arms under yours. His few inches of height over you are especially helpful in steering clear of your stomach. “She didn’t feel it, Y/N, I promise. You took the fall for her, and the doctor said everything is just fine. She didn’t even know it was happening, I swear.”
You let out a long, slow breath. You nod into his should after a few moments. “Okay. Thank you for picking me back up, Spence.”
“That was impressive, right?”
You poke him some more as you let the entirety of your weight slouch into his front. “You’re quite impressive, Reid. I felt the muscle.” You kiss his neck, voice dropping to a murmur, “I’m okay.” He hasn’t realised how badly he needed reassurance too.
“I know.”
“Sorry if I was dramatic,” you say.
“Dramatic?” he laughs, thumb on your neck drawing shapes. “You tried to tell me you were fine. That’s the opposite of dramatic.”
“…Maybe I should slow down some. Maybe. Take some days off.”
Spencer kisses the top of your head. “That could be nice. You’ve been bouncing around for months. We could just spend a couple of days laying down, right? You can try out some of those maternity pyjamas you’re so reluctant to wear.”
“Why’d you buy so many?”
“I’m trying to take care of you. I thought I’d finally be allowed,” he says.
Your voice turns to a whisper. “You always take care of me, Spence. You really do.”
#spencer reid#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x you#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid oneshot#spencer reid scenario#spencer reid drabble#spencer reid fic#spencer reid fanfiction
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— ❈ YOU'RE SO PRETTY, BABY.
▸ prompt ; companions and their responses to being called pretty boy / pretty girl.
▸ a/n ; bit of a generic post im sorry forreal. while i was originally just going to write this for astarion i had ideas for. all the other companions.
most of the characters have a reader w a specific class or background, all varied! also spoilers for gale, shadowheart, karlach, and lae'zel.
reader / tav is always gender neutral!
▸ wc ; about 4.5k, about 700+ words per companion.
ft. astarion, wyll, gale, shadowheart, karlach, lae'zel
no minthara or halsin bc i could not bring myself to write it. but maybe later if enough people ask lol.
❈ ASTARION ;
Astarion tries his very best to find your affection for him trite, even when he knows it doesn't feel that way. It's an instinct for him, one you'll simply have to make peace with you if you're really planning on tailing him to the end of the world.
Truth be told though, he likes your generally affectionate nature. He hasn't reached a point he can admit this so openly, but the comfortable and easy way you reach for him is nice. He likes how your hands seem to stretch for him, the way you cling to his spine when you sleep in his tent and the likes.
And while he is not stranger to hypocrisy, he thinks it'd be amiss to try and bar you from calling him any pet names when he calls you so many. He's got quite a few handy. Darling is a favorite, followed by dear, and sometimes my love when he can muster up the courage to mean it instead of saying it like he's trying to perform.
You like to call Astarion by his name though, most often. He isn't exactly sure why you're so fond of it, and truthfully he's done little to consider his own name. You say it wonderfully though, tasteful and loving and soft.
Sometimes you gasp it in offense or horror or shock, other times in pleasure. Sometimes you whimper it in your sleep, groping around until your hands fist in the material of his shirt and you drag him back to you.
In any case, he's used to hearing his name. So hearing you utter the words pretty boy to him, he can't help but be a little shocked.
You're a little tipsy. A hard, arduous journey of fighting githyanki soldiers has taken a terrible toll on your normal inhibitions. You're quite flushed while you're drunk, and all the same sitting in his lap like you've not a care in the world.
Astarion doesn't mind holding you. In fact, he's thinking of all the terribly teasing things he can say to you come morning. So far, you've done nothing but mumble. It's a sudden movement, your hands clasped around his face.
"Feeling forward are we darling?" He says, like second nature. It's so reactionary it's banal, though he does have some enthusiasm since the flirtation is directed at you. Instead of your usual giggling, you stare at him with your lips parted.
"I suppose I am pretty boy," You reply, a completely foreign confidence in your voice that stops him dead in his tracks. Underneath the thick layer of flirtation is sincerity so unmistakable it almost proves to be too much "Could I ask you to keep me company?"
Astarion is, eternally grateful about the fact you don't get much more than that out of you. He spends the entire night thinking about it. You're certainly not the first to call him pretty, and that particular phrasing has been thrown to him more than once.
Yet it rings a little differently. The way you said it so tenderly, your hands stroking the nape of his neck and cupping his face. Well, it's not nothing. He can't decide if he hates it or not until the next morning comes.
Your eyes flutter open as light pours through the open part of his tent. You reach over to him with a deep sigh, engaging in some quiet morning affection when you repeat yesterdays sentiment.
"Good morning, my very pretty boy," You say - and this time Astarion is sure whatever he is feeling he has not ever felt previously "Sorry for the antics last night."
"So your memory hasn't failed you. Good to know." Astarion says back. You laugh lightly. "Your charming little pet name worried me quite a bit."
"Nothing to worry about my love." You say, warm and nuzzling into his neck likely to cool yourself from over-heating "I really do find you very pretty."
He can't help the feeling that floods his sense. He likes it even though he feels a little clingy, but perhaps there's no need to admit that.
"Oh, really, darling? How sweet you are. Tell me again, then. Just for kicks this time."
❈ WYLL ;
it's a matter of getting used to it for Wyll.
For the first month of your adventuring together, pretty boy, had been a somewhat condescending substitute for his name. Among other ones, like daddy's boy and prince. None of the pet names held any real affection.
You liked getting under his skin, after all.
You didn't get on at first, not for a long while. You're a rogue, a ratty street urchin turned mercenary who'd spent your youth climbing through the soil and mud of the Lower City's underbelly. Your words verbatim, not his. At first, your resentment for him caught him off guard, especially because Wyll prefers to keep the peace and get along with everyone. But, he had a difficult time understanding you, even with his people skills
Eventually it clicked that your resentment was less towards him, and more towards what he represents. You're a Baldurian, but one abandoned by the city and it's people. What else could the Ravengards represent if not the future you never had a chance to look towards.
It was easier after that. And Wyll had promised to himself to observe you closer. In that, he found to like you a great deal.
He's fond of pet names in general, but more fond of you lately. At the beginning of your adventure, it was a little difficult to get accustomed to your... roughness. You lack delicacy, but you're not exactly silver tongued.
Yet, you're not as cruel as you make yourself out to be. Contrarily, while you've traveled together, Wyll bore witness to only gentleness. Nothing more. The words you spoke about only doing things for coin had been clearly disproved by your countless acts of charity. Especially gentle and kind to children, and especially unforgiving to the rich and unhelpful.
Once he got used to it, there was something kind of...sweet about it. To see you say one thing and do another had it's own novelty that Wyll grew fond of you.
It was the night of tiefling party that roused his feelings. That night, he'd watched you play with the tiefling children all night, teaching them tricks of the trade.
And you'd started falling for him, too, judging by the way your usual snark was nowhere to be found.
Especially vivid is the change in your tone when you call him the same way you did before.
"We'll take a short rest for you, pretty boy." Your voice murmurs, looking carefully over his wounds while place down your own weapons "Get your spells back. Organize our things in the mean time."
He gives you look, examining your own worry before his smile stretches into one of fondness. It doesn't bother him at all, not anymore. No, lately - it sounds rather fond, and each time Wyll hears it, it does something for ego.
"No need for the concern, though I am appreciative," He says, not bothering to mask the smug quality in his voice at your change. He delights in it a little, admittedly . "I'll be alright soon enough."
You don't seem to notice, too busy wiping your blade of fresh blood, metal shiny as moonlight. "And there's no need for your heroism, Blade of Frontiers. Have some discernment about time and place."
You look up at him with your brows furrowed, and Wyll can barely help himself. "Are you worried I'll lose what's left in my appearances? I'm just telling you there's no need to trouble yourself over it."
It takes you a while to register to his words, but when it finally does - your eyes blow wide. The look of embarrassment on your face is well worth it.
"I thought you hated when I called you that." You say coolly.
"It's not so bad," He says back tenderly, staring at you "At least not anymore."
You pout a little. Wyll fights some unspoken urge to kiss you. A little longer.
"I prefer when you're acting oblivious,"
"Sorry to disappoint."
He lets his head lay on the wall behind him - reaching a hand for yours instead, trying to rest up as promised. He sees you smiling from the corner of his eye and affirms it to himself. You squeeze, soft, but otherwise say nothing about it.
Yes, lately, nothing you say could get under his skin. Even when you so obviously try.
❈ GALE ;
Gale is always the poet, never the muse.
He thought highly of his relationship with Mystra, and in many ways still does. He loved her. This much is true. He can't say for any certainty if she had loved him just as much, or at all. He wasn't the first mortal, and would hardly be the last.
But he loved her, enough to write about her and wax poetic about all that he'd lost.
When Gale examines any of his past relationship, he realizes this is some kind of pattern. Gale is good at being loving, but he does not know for certain if any of them loved him back. Or if he was loved in the way he loves - if it was anything near close. Gale had thought, at one point, it was just matter of destiny. Gale is after all, a man who bleeds with all he has.
He can't blame anyone for loving him less than when he is categorically too much. He thought that way for a long time, destined himself to never find love again or beg for Mystra's forgiveness for some new found purpose.
When you came into his life, he hadn't been sure what would come of your relationship. Certainly a brain parasite would make camp a difficult place for romance, but the two of you managed against all odds. Among all the things that Gale finds astonishing about your relationship - it's your affection for him that catches him the most off-guard.
It's a little sad, he can admit. But it's true. When you speak to Gale, your voice is always soft. It's never demanding. Before, always, there had been some kind of expectation. Gale had to be a certain way, to pour himself into someone else for the sake of it being returned.He loved. Surely he loved.
But now, lately, you love him back. Overwhelmingly. The easiness of your love makes him feel a little... spoiled. Which is embarrassing, at the stage of life he's in. He finds the whole thing tips him over the edge. The heat creeping up his neck every time he remembers. Your hand brushing against the back of his neck, cupping his face so gently.
Gale, perhaps unsurprisingly, is fond of your various pet names. All of them sound good. Make him feel important and desired. You like to call him a bookworm, sometimes you call him baby (which he really likes much more than he is ever willing to admit), and other times you settle on saying my love.
Pretty boy is new. Pretty boy is different, and makes heat crawl up the back of Gale's neck like a smitten school boy.
It has a special effect on Gale.
In between classes, spoken with your hands cupping his face as he leans on his desk. The sunlight is pouring through the large paneled windows, casting a warmth on your expression. Gale is sat on his desk, making you eye-level.
"I'm glad you've come to see me," Gale says to you first, breaking a period of comfortable silence. You're a busy person, given all the heroics. Gale finds it troublesome, despite the fact you've moved with him to Waterdeep. Your reputation precedes you "It's been ages,"
"Of course I'd come to see you, pretty boy," You hum, thumb brushing under his cheek - carefully drawing a line "You're very healing to look at."
The effect is rather immediate. As soon as the words leave your lips, spoken to him so lovingly - he unlocks a part of himself he always seems to forget about. Forgets himself in a fundamental way, the flurry of heat and euphoric sensation of adoration washing over him like water.
He gives you a look, and you laugh - pressing your thumb to his lower lip as you lean in for a kiss. "Stop pouting, will you?"
"I'm doing nothing of the sort," He insists, kissing you despite him. You laugh into, warm and bubbly. For a minute, he remembers all he might've lost had he done what Mystra told him.
He's glad he's alive. To feel you.
"You very much are," You reply back, once you've managed to pull away from each other "Don't be so surprised. You've always been very pretty to me."
He blushes again, deeper, and closes his eyes.
❈ SHADOWHEART ;
You don't often communicate your feelings to Shadowheart through words.
You're something of a stoic. Of the few people in Shadowheart's past who remain by her side, many of them communicate about how surprised they are about your partnership. Shadowheart is known to be a little snarky, witty. She used to be very prickly, at the start of your adventure together - so everyone questions how you were able to win her heart.
Truthfully, Shadowheart didn't know what to make of your personality at first. There's a silence to you. Maybe she should expect this of paladin so loyal. A Paladin of Torm, the unswerving enemy of injustice and corruption. You've always been a devout person, putting action and justice over everything. She hated it at first, a natural response for a Sharran, she figures.
Once she'd left it all behind, she could no longer use it as an excuse.
Truth be told, Shadowheart had always liked that aspect of you. Your devotion spoke to something greater than your oath or even your god. You had simply believed in the world, and inadvertently in her. You saved her from herself, her parents from her fate, and then some.
Your devotion to her as a lover isn't something so different. She often thinks you would swear yourself to her if you could. For Shadowheart, your affection is akin to worship. Every morning, the animals are tended and the flower bed is damp. You wake her mother up without a start, remind her of where she is without making her feel ashamed. You're good to her father, talk to him of worldly politics at the dinner table.
She has no complaints to make about you. Your love for her is tangible, something she can reach out and touch with her fingers.
She's unused to hearing your affections, though. Unused to hearing the words.
You lay together in the darkness. You're alone tonight, the entire cabin empty. Her mother and father have gone together on an outing together, after you accompanied them into the city. You've finally returned, put the horses up in the stable, and have to come to her side.
Shadowheart likes to lay in your arms. She lets herself curl into your weight, inhales the scent of your skin - earthy and rich as you let your arm fold around her waist. She lays ontop of you today, her whole body on yours like a blanket.
She looks up at you, her her tied loosely. She can practically feel how glowy her own expression is as she examines you - sees her reflection in your irises.
You let your hand lay over her back, reaching up underneath her nightwear to lay touch her skin. She gives you a look - her smile small, sincere. Your own expression is tired from travel, but fond. You insisted on taking her parents instead of letting them go alone.
She loves you more than she cares to admit.
"You're staring." She comments blithely "See something you like?"
Normally you'd flush a little at this, silent as you kiss her forehead or cheek. This time though, you use your fingers to brush the stray hairs from her face and nod.
"Yes, pretty girl," You hum, nonchalantly. Sagely. "I really do,"
She's so caught off guard, she can't help but gape. She lifts herself slightly to stare at you in shock.
"I've never heard you talk like that. Not once while we've been together. I mean.. you've called me beautiful but," Shadowheart stumbles, a fluttery feeling in her stomach she'd rather ignore "But it's never like that,"
"I think it more often that I say it,"
"And you always think to call me that?"
"Like I said, often," You look over he carefully, before your lips pull into an easy smile "You're pretty to the point I want to tell you all the time,"
Shadowheart is scarcely embarrassed by anything. She's a practiced woman at this point in her life. It's almost juvenile the way the words effect her. It's you saying it that makes all the difference. The way you've said it that makes her squirm. She lets out a little puff of air, silent as you laugh.
"Pretty girl," You repeat, warm and gentle and laced with exhaustion "You're the most beautiful girl I've ever met."
Shadowheart tucks her face into your neck, voice as soft a murmur as the sound of her own heart rings in her ears.
"Don't make a habit of talking like that," She huffs "I already know, but I suppose it doesn't hurt to hear."
You smile brightly. "I'm glad,"
❈ KARLACH ;
Karlach adores you, utterly and completely.
She's a little caught off-guard by it. Just when she'd convinced herself she couldn't love you more, you surprise her all over again. She'd probably harbored some sort of affection for you from the start of your adventure together, when you'd gone to bat for her and make sure Wyll didn't take her head as a trophy.
Since then, though - on your journey together, she'd taken careful notice of you. And gods, she likes you. You're very different she must admit. Where Karlach is strong and fiery, you're cool and calculated. She figured that's just what magic users are like, but Gale is pretty keen on correcting this assumption. You're a sorcerer, specifically, means the whole magic thing is in your composition and not your study.
Which explained why your head isn't the books like their local wizard. She does find you to be rather charming. You're good at talking your way in and out of almost everything, and you can outwit even the cleverest people on camp. You'd think it'd make you... annoying. Or cruel. And sure, you're a little calculating - but mostly, you're sweet.
Karlach's really never met anyone like you before. Her companionship is a little limited because before the Blood Wars, she was a rag-tag kid in the street of the city. But you grew up in a noble house, learned to charm and finesse your way through everything. You know how to read situations before they've even happened.
And you always explain them to her afterwards.
You make Karlach nervous, strangely. Which is wild! When it comes to socializing, she can get along with almost anyone. You though, you always see right through her. You know when she's using her own personality as a shield, and you always know just when to intervene. Or when to say nothing, and just let her sit with you.
The day she blew up at you, after defeating Gortash - you'd handled it better than she could've hoped. You were comforting, and kind, and let her feel it out without making her feel bad. With you, she felt hopeful despite knowing that the end was probably going to come for her eventually.
With you, she thinks she could endure even the end of the world.
You're in the city now, no longer sleeping in the woods. When everyone else has gone to bed, Karlach finds you in the study, a room attached to the main living quarters.
She knocks before entering. Your voice is soft as you tell her to come in. Dressed in your comfy night clothes, your hair damp from washing up. You're bent over the desk with a furrow in your brow that Karlach finds sweet.
"Hey, baby," She asks, her heart thumping soft "Hope I'm not disturbin' your research."
"Of course not," You reply back, encouraging her towards you "I'm actually due a break."
Wordlessly, you sit up from your chair, pointing for Karlach to sit. She follows through, a little confused as to what you're doing before you plop yourself back into her lap. She throws her head back in laughter.
"Don't know what I was expecting there," She giggles, arm curling around your waist "All cozy?"
"Mm," You melt yourself into her embrace, turning to look at her. Your eyes are soft, free hand cupping her face "I'm cozy. What's keeping you up, pretty girl?"
The words catch her off guard completely, her engine flaring from the heat.
"Shit, what's with that?" She glances down at you, smiling like the cheeky fucker you are "I can't get any redder, you know? It's making my engine burn."
"You like it, no?" Your voice is smooth, smug in a way that gets her hot "My pretty girl,"
Karlach stares at you as you say it. Traces the curve of your lips, the slight arch of your brow. Asses the weight and warmth of you as you lay your legs over her lap and feels her body start to react. She didn't think it was possible to feel so complete by someone, even among the impending doom at the end of the world.
With you it fades away to nothing. Permission to want freely, she had no idea she had wanted that so bad. She had no idea she could want more when you'd already given her so much.
It's nice to be greedy. A little greed is fine, after everything.
"If you keep talking to me like that, we're going to do a lot more than just sitting, you know?" She tells you seriously.
You smile and laugh but don't deny her "Only if you say please,"
❈ LAE'ZEL ;
The Githyanki do not fall in love.
It's a fact of the culture, a mark of their honor. Love is for the soft, tender fleshed species of the material planes. It does not suit warriors, not the ruthless githyanki who spend their entire lives training the sword and learning magic. Love had always been a flimsy concept to Lae'zel. To the point she'd never thought about it or cared too. For the gith, there is only pleasure and carnal desire. The foolishness of longing can only be harbored in the lesser existence of the outer-world. The world outside of her creche.
For a long time, this was true for Lae'zel. She had never intended her time in the material plane to weaken her in the ways in which it did. Or that the experience of a ghaik parasite trapped behind her eyes would will her into cooperation with lesser beings. In many ways egregious, unfathomable. In trying to rid herself of one parasite, she'd found herself another one - more intolerable and more consuming than the first.
You. What a foreign and remarkable bond. From the beginning she had told you the truth, that the gith do not love and she would not be able to love you. Though she could admit passion, admit admiration for your courage, admit possession - she could not admit love. She knew nothing of it.
Over the course of your journey, you'd managed to prove her wrong. Slowly stripped bare of the identity she'd made her life around, you stripped Lae'zel down to her soul. Her most honored solider, and most formidable ally. When the time came, you'd told her to do what she must, to liberate her people. That you'd be there when she returned.
That you'd wait for her.
Months apart with few visits in between meant that each time Lae'zel sees you must make every minute count. Enjoying your body and indulging in carnal pleasures is only so much of that. What Lae'zel looks forward too most, she must admit, is the gentleness of your touch whenever she comes back to Fae'run.
Soft warm whispers among the indulgent plush of bed sheets and candles. A room that smells like lavender and oak, prayer books and scripture littered on the desk. A cleric of Bahamut, and a soul strong as steel.
But this, her head resting in your lap as you stroke her hair so carefully, is what she's missed most of all. No doubt she's going soft.
"Chk. You are smitten by the text in front of you as if you have forgotten of my return,"
You look down at Lae-zel with a laugh, carefully placing said book down on the bedside table. The voice you speak with her is different from her own. Tender fleshed even in your speech, you let her curl herself into you.
A vulnerable position, open to whatever may come.
"I'm sorry, pretty girl," You hum. The words practically startle her "I don't mean to neglect you. It was an interesting passage."
"Pretty...It is true among the githyanki, I am among the finest of their ranks," She replies, turning herself towards you - getting comfortable "Yet still, something stirs."
"Are you embarrassed?" You reply, delighted as her frown deepens. Before she has a chance to argue with you, you lean down to press your lips against hers briefly "How sweet of you."
"I do not get embarrassed," She insists, scowling as you begin to giggle at her "It was merely unexpected."
"You're beautiful to me, Lae'zel." You hum, stroking her cheek gently as she continues to lay herself across. Your eyes are tender and lidded. That look of obsession she recalled from the months prior returned in full, and no longer hidden. Unlike your other mortal companions, or the pale elf - there is nothing hidden in your words. No agenda "More beautiful than anyone else. At least to me. Getting to look at you so closely is a gift."
She softens, her hand gripping yours resting on her chest
"When it is over," She says seriously, a solemness to her voice "I will return to you. This I swear. Without you, the liberation of my people would be no less then a dream,"
You return her smile in kind.
"My pretty, wonderful girl," You hum. She loves you. She thinks she understands it now "I know you'll return to me, nailo. You always keep your promises."
"Yes," She says, an unfamiliar emotion overwhelming her "I will not forsake all we have promised."
The affection in your voice shakes Lae'zel to her core. Initial abrasion fades only into warmth. It's not so bad to hear, even if it is tender fleshed.
▸ a/n ; the word reader uses for lae'zel is elvish for swift winds!! reader is meant to be sort of a book worm so you do not need to picture them as a elf and more of a linguist.
this is the most substantial thing i've written in the last few weeks so commentary is very appreciated. i'd be willing to do a minthara and halsin addition to this eventually if anyone is interested!!
anyways, baldurs gate companions i love u. reblogs so appreciated !
#bg3 x reader#baldurs gate 3 x reader#astarion x reader#wyll x reader#gale x reader#shadowheart x reader#karlach x reader#lae'zel x reader#writing tag#waah. i love them all
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yacht escapades - rafe cameron x fem!reader
pairing: rafe cameron x fem!reader
synopsis: sneaking away with your boyfriend leads to a salacious session under the moonlight
word count: 2k
warnings/tags: smut! (unprotected sex, f and m oral, fingering, brief cockwarming), sweet boyfriend!rafe
a/n: hi everyone! thank you so so much for everyone's support on my recent works. seeing all your hearts and reblogs always makes my day :3 i've always wanted to write a smutfic for rafe so here it is. i hope you'll like this one. happy reading!
masterlist
⍣ ೋ˚
“Relax, baby. This is literally my family’s yacht. Technically, it’s mine too so don’t worry.” Rafe assured you for the hundredth time, rotating the helm of the boat to move farther away from the dock.
Your boyfriend has always been unpredictable, so when he slowly woke you up half an hour ago because he couldn’t sleep, you had no idea that you two would end up sneaking away his parents’ yacht at three in the morning. A part of you was nervous, knowing that Ward tends to get pissed over the littlest things that Rafe did. But another voice was lulling you to just enjoy the night breeze.
“I know, I know. But what if—” You blabbed.
“Stop, sweetheart. We won’t even go that far.”
You sighed, walking over behind Rafe to wrap your arms around his waist while he continued to maneuver the boat far enough to isolate the two of you from the island.
“See? Isn’t this nice?” He smiled proudly, holding your hand to take you to the couch, easily pulling you to his lap.
Your breathing was quiet, hands firm on top of Rafe’s wrapped arms on your waist. He was occasionally giving you some soft kisses on the forehead and cheeks when you broke the silence. “So how exactly is this going to help you sleep?”
“It probably won’t.” He answered bluntly.
You chuckled, watching over the soft ripples on the surface of the lake.
You were on the verge of falling asleep on Rafe’s lap when you felt one of his hands move from your waist to your right thigh, thumb softly rubbing the skin. You didn’t think much of it and let out a small yawn, but he moved his hand further up, making you roll your eyes.
“Hey.”
“What?” Rafe replied innocently, pressing a soft kiss on the side of your neck.
“I know what you’re doing.” You huffed. Sitting up straight but still not leaving his lap. “Did you just bring me here for sex?”
Rafe let out a fake gasp, but his eyes shone with mischief. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“You know, we could’ve just done it in your bedroom.”
“Where’s the thrill in that?”
“So you admit! You just want sex.” You raised your brow.
“Well, yes and no. I really couldn’t sleep but now you just look so pretty and we’re all alone here.” He said, tugging the bottom of your shirt.
You groaned, not that you were annoyed with him. You’re annoyed with yourself for liking the idea. It is no secret that you and Rafe have always been sexually active, always trying out new things that one of you may be curious about. Your sex drive matches with his, and it is one of the things that you two love about each other. So the thought of giving yourself to your boyfriend in the middle of the night underneath the stars tempted you so much. And you shamelessly fell for it.
You looked down at his groin, already noticing the bulge through his khaki shorts despite the slight darkness. You pressed your hands against him and gave it a hard squeeze, surprising Rafe.
“Fuck, baby.” He gasped, hips raising upwards slightly.
“You want me, Rafey?” You whispered, giving him the most innocent look you can muster. But Rafe can see right through you, knowing that your question was all he needed as a signal to make a move.
Rafe didn’t answer. Instead, he grabbed the back of your neck and pulled your face towards him, kissing you roughly. His tongue glided over your lower lip, making you open your mouth to let him in. Without breaking contact, you fully turned your body to face his, grinding slightly while tangling your fingers in his hair.
He put both of his hands on your hips, heavy breaths occasionally leaving his lips but never breaking the kiss. It was you who pulled away first after a while, gasping for air but wasting no time unbuttoning his shorts.
“Eager, are we?” He smirked, lips red from kissing you.
“Shut up.” You replied, hurrying to pull out his huge manhood as you positioned yourself from his lap to kneel on the floor.
“Go ahead, baby. Suck my cock off like a good girl.” He cooed, stroking the top of your head.
You gave him a sweet smile before giving his tip a lick, making sure to never break eye contact. Rafe threw his head back, whispering a curse under his breath. You grinned at his reaction, ego growing higher as you wrapped your lips around his head.
Rafe almost thanked the sky above for your mouth. He has always been proud of having you. A smart, rich, and polite girl; a literal angel, as others have said. But they don’t know what kind of a freak you are behind those innocent dresses and wide eyes. None of them know except Rafe, and he intends to keep it that way.
You kept sucking him off, pushing yourself to take in as much as you can even as tears brimmed your eyes. You wrapped your slender fingers around the area that you couldn’t take, loving the way he tasted.
Rafe’s head was pulled backward, his chest rising and falling heavily while he muttered praises and curses. He was on the verge of his release when he suddenly put both of his hands on your shoulder.
“No, I want to cum in your pussy.” He panted, pulling you up by the arms. He gently pushed you against the couch so that you were now the one sitting. He stood up and hurriedly removed his clothes, your eyes in awe while watching him. “Like what you see, baby?”
You grinned, pulling your shirt upwards, and expertly removed the clasp of your bra. Rafe’s eyes were trained on your breasts as soon as you freed them, but he wasted no time removing your shorts and panties at the same time.
“Fuck. There’s my pretty pussy.” His eyes were steadily trained on your cunt as he leaned down at eye level. It was as if he was hypnotized as he brought one hand to your folds, gliding his forefinger up and down. He smirked when he noticed the thin sheer wetness in the middle.
“Rafey…” You whined.
“What is it, sweetheart?”
“Fuck me already.”
“You’re a bossy girl, aren’t you?” Rafe chuckled amusedly. “Patience, darling. ‘Gotta prepare you nicely first.”
He continued to tease you, never touching your clit or pushing a finger inside of you. With each moment that you grow irritated, the wetness of your womanhood increases. When Rafe sensed that you were about to curse him off, he suddenly inserted two fingers in, making you gasp.
“Shit.” You breathed, soft moans leaving your lips as he curled his fingers before pumping faster.
Rafe placed his thumb on your clit, making you squeal in both surprise and pleasure. You swore you almost saw stars when he did so, one hand reaching downwards in an attempt to grab onto the couch for support while the other reached for his wrist.
He ticked his tongue at the action, using his free hand to pull your hand away.
Rafe lowered his head until your legs were leveled with his face, inhaling your scent while still fingering you. He brought his lips closer until you could feel his breath near your folds, making you shiver.
“Rafe, please fuck me… fuck.” You pleaded.
“I will, darling. But I have to taste this pussy first.” Without warning, he removed his thumb from your clit, replacing it with his lips. You screamed at the contact, suddenly thankful that no one could hear you.
Rafe continued to play with your clit, tugging the small nub with his teeth while pushing his tongue inside you. You were almost crying from pleasure, the overwhelming feeling of your boyfriend’s mouth and fingers in the same area was almost too much.
You were loudly moaning his name, hips lifting on their own as you pushed yourself closer to Rafe’s mouth. Your boyfriend grinned against you, his pride increasing with the knowledge that only he can make you feel this way.
You almost screamed in frustration when Rafe abruptly pulled away, licking his lips to savor your juices. “Ready, baby?”
“Yes, Rafe, fuck me please.”
“Always so polite.” He snickered, loving the way that your eyes turned hazy from all the pleasure. “Who am I to turn down my baby’s request, hm?”
With a swift move, Rafe quickly positioned his cock to align with your cunt before pushing himself in with one go. You gasp at the intrusion, shock, and ecstasy filling your body. Having sex with Rafe so many times has made you familiar with his size, but you still weren’t prepared for the amount of stretching that your womanhood would have to make to accommodate him.
He wasted no time and began thrusting, slowly at first to let you adjust.
“Shit. Your cunt is hugging me perfectly.” He gasped, building up his tempo.
You were too speechless to reply, the only thing that you could do was moan and grab his chest. Rafe placed one hand on your hip, and the other grabbed both your wrists to pull your hands above your head.
Sweats, gasps, and whines were the only sounds heard. Rafe’s hips collided with yours with strength, making you scream out his name. He admired the beads of sweat on your forehead, your skin illuminated by the moonlight. He always believed that you were the prettiest girl on this planet. And seeing you at this moment, naked and dewy with your face twisted in enjoyment, he knew he was right.
“Come on, darling. Give it to me.” He praised, knowing that you were close with how tightly you were squeezing him.
You mumbled his name over and over again, legs shaking as you wrapped them around his hips to pull him closer. Rafe cursed after seeing your action, thrusting harder and faster to chase both of your highs.
You were a crying mess underneath him, pleasure surging through all parts of your body. You opened your eyes slightly, admiring Rafe’s face before feeling the pressure on your lower abdomen.
“Fuck, Rafe. I’m gonna cum.”
“Go ahead, sweet girl. Cum for me. I want to feel you around my cock.” He urged, never breaking the pattern of his thrusts.
You screamed after a few more pushes, your vision blurring slightly as you squirted around him. Rafe came after you, gasping as he felt his warm liquid mix with your own inside your pussy.
You two were panting against each other, Rafe still inside you as he caught his breath. “You alright?” He asked, pushing a strand of hair away from your face.
You couldn’t reply, still breathing heavily but nodded instead. Rafe started to slowly pull out of you, making you whine.
“No, Rafey. Stay.” You pouted.
He smiled sweetly, lifting you so that he could sit on the couch without separating from you.
The two of you lay there, soft breaths coming out of your mouths while Rafe hugged you against his chest as you keep him warm in your cunt.
“Tired, baby?” He asked you after a while, noticing your droopy eyes.
You nodded, feeling warm against his body despite being exposed to cool air.
“Get some rest. I’ll be here when you wake up.” Rafe whispered, kissing you softly on the forehead.
Before closing your eyes, you vowed to sneak out with his yacht more open.
#rafe cameron fanfiction#rafe cameron#rafe smut#rafe cameron x reader#rafe cameron imagine#rafe cameron x you#drew starkey x reader#rafe cameron x y/n#rafe cameron x smut#rafe cameron x female reader#rafe cameron smut#rafe cameron fluff#rafe cameron x reader smut
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closer than friends
PAIRING: Sam Winchester x Fem!Reader
WORD COUNT: 5.3k
WARNINGS: season 1/2 era, friends to lovers, sweet love confession, Dean being Sam’s wingman
A/N: my first supernatural fic is finally here!!! It’s been a long while since I’ve had the motivation to write, and I’m so glad I was able to get this out and share it. Please reblog if you enjoy!! <33
"How many times are you gonna shift in your goddamn seat, woman, jesus christ." Dean glances over at you from the wheel for the fourth time, watching you rub your eyes and knock your shoulder into the side of the Impala's door again.
"It's not my fault the passenger seat isn't made for comfortable napping, Dean."
You hear Sam chuckle from over your shoulder; this makes you look back to find him comfortably nestled into the corner of the backseat with his sweatshirt tucked in the crook of his neck so he can lean against his door without discomfort.
You huff, "I don't want a word from you."
"Says the girl who called shotgun and fought for the front seat all morning."
"What did I just say?"
Dean rolls his eyes, "Okay, knock it off. We're finding a place to sleep tonight."
While Dean focuses back onto driving, you try your hardest to find a suitable position that would allow you to sleep for awhile up until you guys made it to whatever hotel you were staying in for the night. You'd like to blame the Impala for your sleep deprivation, but you've slept in it before just fine, so you know the car isn't the problem. Even though you're going on just over 36 hours of no sleep, your mind won't shut off. The events of the case you were working on for the past couple of days play like a movie in your head, reminding you of how it ended over and over again.
You swallow quite harshly, and shift in your seat again. Something soft smacks the back of your head and you whip around to see what Sam's hit you with, but it's just his sweatshirt, and he's already leaning against the side of the car like he was before, almost as if he hadn't moved at all.
You mumble out a quiet "thank you," and you don't bother to even listen for any sort of reply before you're stuffing his sweatshirt underneath your head and forcing yourself to go to sleep. It's not long before you hear Sam's soft breathing from the backseat signifying that the boy has finally fallen asleep himself. You almost gave up until you saw Dean turn down his music just a little, side-eyeing you as he looked between you and the road.
"Is that better?" He asks.
"It was fine before."
"I'll keep it like this anyway."
You hum in response, and he goes back to humming his own tune to follow along with the music. With Sam's soft breathing in the back and Dean's low humming, you finally find something else other than your mind to focus on, which ultimately leads to your eyes lulling shut and you drifting off to sleep.
When your eyes start to peel back open again, the car is stopped and there's light rain patter on the wind shield. You lift your head causing Sam's sweatshirt to lightly fall into your lap, and at the same time the door opens revealing a slightly wet Sam waiting for you.
"C'mon, we're here."
"Slow your roll, Sammy, I just woke up." Your head lolls back onto the seat, and you let your eyes close once again, forgetting about Sam who's standing in the rain waiting for you to get out.
"Alright, let's go."
You shiver and grumble a slight protest as you feel his cold hands slip underneath your body to grab you and pick you out of the Impala. He knocks the door shut as he cradles you close to his chest as to not drop you, and as he locks the car. Your ear stays smushed against his front as he carries you, allowing you to feel the soft pitter patter of his heart beating in his chest.
"What time is it?" You mumble sleepily.
"Close to ten."
"That's it?"
"Yeah." You nod, not replying this time so you can nod back off in his arms. You're back to being fast asleep once again by the time Sam reaches the room Dean picked out for you, and he tries tucking you into your bed as gently as possible so he doesn't accidentally wake you up. In the short process you only mutter something unintelligible to Sam's ears as he finishes pulling the blankets up, so he ignores it and kisses you on the forehead, bidding you a good night before he retreats back to the room he's sharing with Dean for the night.
It's much later when you're rudely roused from sleep by a nightmare; you sit up straight in the bed with your hands by your sides clawing at the sheets, your eyes wide and unfocused, much too scared to figure out where you are or how you've gotten there. It takes a second to realize you're in a motel room, and now, the sheets that were once neatly laid over your body are haphazardly thrown towards the end of the bed, practically hanging off and hitting the floor. You take a shaky deep breath in and out, taking your trembling hand and placing it over your heart in an attempt to regulate it.
After a couple minutes your breathing is sort of back to normal, but your shakiness hasn't stopped. At that point, you're aware you won't be falling asleep again anytime soon, so you sit up further and throw your legs off the bed to go and find something to busy yourself with. In the corner there's a chair that you notice has your bag on top of it, and there's a small table next to it with a notepad. Your curiosity pulls you towards it, and when your feet reach the table, you're able to make out Sam's sloppy handwriting.
If you need us. - S
Next to the writing is a key card, which you can obviously assume is the one to their room. You pick it up and turn it over a few times, debating on whether this dream was something worth needing them for. In your head, needing was the same thing as bothering and it was never used as a positive term. But you know that if you spend another minute in that bed you might actually start crying and drive yourself crazy over the dream, so you take your chances and hope one of the boys will let you sleep in their bed or at least talk to you for awhile and get your mind off of it.
When you open the door and step outside, you become acutely aware of the cold air on your arms and legs rather quickly, and you begin to wish you were wearing a sweatshirt instead of one of Sam's shirts and a pair of shorts. The chill encapsulates you, making you hasten your step towards the room down the hall with the number specified on the key card. Once you make it to the room, you're pushing yourself up on your tip toes because, despite your sock covered feet, the ground is still horridly cold and you're hoping to get off it as soon as possible. Although, you find yourself unable to let yourself in once you find yourself standing in front of the door. You give it a good five minutes before you work up the nerve to finally pat the key card on the handle to allow yourself in the room. Once you've pushed open the door a crack, you're able to perceive a bed-side lamp turned on, and Sam leaning against his headboard next to it.
His head snaps up from his book at the sound of the door being pushed open, but he relaxes when he realizes it's you.
"Hey," he says softly. He's in the brown sweatshirt you were passing back and forth earlier, and he's weirdly still in a pair of jeans, but at this point you're used to seeing Sam and Dean wearing their jeans to bed.
"Hi," you respond back, even softer.
Sam likes to think he's pretty good at perceiving your body language, especially after knowing you for so long; so when he notices your trembling hands, your flushed cheeks, and your frantic eyes, he knows that you've had a nightmare.
He's not gonna ask why you're there since he knows why, so he only pats the side of the bed next to him and asks, "You wanna' join me?"
You're quick to nod your head and cross the room to join him, and it's only then when you're on the bed that you notice Dean isn't in the other one.
"Where's Dean?"
"Oh, he left to drive around. He's probably at a bar, or sleeping in the car somewhere." He says casually.
You hum, "Couldn't sleep?"
"Neither of us really could. He asked if I wanted to come with, but I didn't really feel like leavin'." Sam left out the fact he didn't want to leave you here alone, since he doesn't like leaving you anywhere by yourself. Dean doesn't either, but he doesn't get fussy over it like Sam sometimes does when you fight them on it.
"I can't either," you say quietly.
With some of your hair dangling in your face and your flushed cheeks, you look sort of delicate in Sam's eyes. You look sad, but when you look at him you have a gentle smile covering your lips, and when you look away your mouth curves downward again, only slightly, to where you might think he won't notice, but he does.
Sam's always stayed observant of you, even when you think you're the one who takes all the mental notes of him.
He reaches out, lifting the hand closest to you and letting his palm rest gently on top of your shoulder.
"You okay?" He almost looks like a puppy when he asks, and it's pitiful. For you mostly because he's cute, but why should he look like that when you feel like you're gonna start crying any minute.
You don't even want to answer because if your mouth opens you're either gonna say you're fine, or words describing the terrors you experienced in your sleep are going to come pouring out of your mouth and you won't be able to stop until you're a sobbing, pitiful mess and you could not handle being that way in front of Sam.
You couldn't.
But looking at him looking at you so fondly, it's like he's trying to tell you he'll comfort you the only way he knows how and he's gonna fix all your problems with a touch or two alone. Like the way he wants to hold you will melt all your fears into nothing and the way he wants to kiss you will make you forget any of it even happened. His eyes speak more than words could express in this moment and you don't even care if you seem desperate, or needy, or anything really. You allow yourself to fall forward into his awaiting arms, and when your head meets his chest, you can't help the first sob that escapes your lips.
You sound so tired, and the way that you're crying so harshly makes him feel like you're tearing yourself apart inside, like each breath is ripping off another piece of your heart.
"Honey..." he breathes out gently, wrapping his one arm around your neck and his other only comes up about half way so he can hold your head close to him under his chin. You've fallen completely into his side, your head against his chest and one leg practically in his lap, but he doesn't seem mind. “Do you… want to talk about it?”
You consider it for a moment; you probably would feel better opening up to him about the case you just worked, considering he was also there and knows how hard it was, but you also know opening up to Sam makes you feel close to him. Intimate almost. You’ve never been one to share your thoughts or feelings generously, and you think that must have just came with the messed up childhood, since Sam and Dean are pretty much the same way. But as the years went on, the boys got much better at opening up to you than you did them. Although, if there was anyone that could get you to talk, it was Sam.
Today, you decided, would not be one of those days.
You shake your head, "I'm okay, I'm okay. I'll be fine." You know by his soft sigh that he doesn't believe you, but luckily he doesn't push it. "Can we just stay like this for a little while?" You whisper shyly, despite knowing he wouldn't say no to you.
"Yeah," he strokes your hair softly, "Yeah, of course."
You lay comfortably against him as he slowly but surely calms you down, holding your head and rubbing your arm gently as you let out sad little sniffles. Once you've relaxed, you murmur something into his chest that he thinks might have been a thank you, but before he can ask you've already fallen asleep.
About an hour later after the two of you have fallen asleep, Dean unlocks the door and enters the room slightly shitfaced but more so tired. He freshens up in the bathroom so he doesn't wake up feeling even worse in a couple of hours, and he doesn't even notice you're there until he's trudging out of it, eyes wide and feet frozen to the floor as he takes in the image of you and Sam cuddled up to each other in Sam's bed. He manages to put his fist against his mouth just in time to cover up a surprised laugh, taking in the sight of his little brother in the same bed as their best friend.
"This is gold." Dean smiles mischievously, pulling his phone out of his pocket to capture the moment. "Just friends my ass." He mutters.
...
"Dean, if I have to hear you say that girl's name again one more time, I'm going to chop your head off. I don't care how good she was at su-"
"Alright, alright, let's quiet down shall' we?" Sam pats your shoulder and looks around the cafe to see if anyone heard you bickering with Dean about last night's one night stand. Dean laughs loudly as he lets himself into the corner booth that the three of you chose while you were walking in.
"What, you nervous someone's gonna hear us, Sammy?"
"It's 8 in the morning, Dean. Let's be a little respectful."
You hide your giggle, "Yeah, Dean."
Dean rolls his eyes, glancing at Sam as he ever so casually throws his arm over the back of the seat behind you, looking at the side of your face to see if you've taken notice. You're picking your nail, completely oblivious. He almost rolls his eyes again.
"Well," Dean straightens up, "Let's see what we have on the menu today."
"Don't act like you're not going to get the same exact thing you get every day," you comment, not even looking up from your nail.
"What's with the attitude, sweetheart? Didn't sleep well?" Sam's smile quickly turns to an annoyed frown as he makes eye contact with Dean, silently sending him daggers to keep his mouth shut.
You squint your eyes at him and open your mouth to come back with a retort, but the waitress walks up before you get the chance to say anything.
"Are y'all ready yet, or would you like a few minutes?" She asks kindly.
"Can we have a couple more minutes?" You say, since the three of you haven't even taken a look at the menu yet. She nods and retreats, leaving you alone with the boys once again. Sam and Dean grab their menus and you quickly realize there isn't a third, so you go to call the waitress back, but Sam nudges you just before you do.
"It's fine, just share mine." You huddle close next to him, resting your chin on your hand as you survey the food options as Sam does the same. He's so close his hair just so slightly grazes the skin of your cheek. Dean raises his eyebrows when he notices Sam's leg has started bouncing and he covers up his laugh with a cough just as he did last night, busying himself and acting clueless as the two of you look up at him.
"You alright?" You ask jokingly.
"Yup, totally fine. You guys ready yet?"
"Yep. How about you, Sammy?" He clears his throat and doesn't say anything, but he nods his head in response, which has you eyeing him weirdly. You choose to ignore it and let Sam order for you while you kick Dean under the table to stop being flirty with the nice waitress, and he only winks at you before he gives his order too.
When the waitress departs from your table, Dean lets his eyes follow her just for a second before he's turning back to the two of you, and he gets this questioning look on his face when he realizes the two of you are blankly glaring at him with the same narrowed eyes.
"What," he throws his hands up in defense, "I can't admire a good-looking woman?"
You and Sam glance at each other with a knowing glance right before you look back at Dean and say, "What's with you today? Why are you acting so..."
"Strange." Sam says. He leans forward on the table, "Why do you look like you're up to something?"
"Huh? Me?" Dean points to himself, "I'm not up to anything. I'm just being plain old me."
"Yeah, sure." You laugh him off and start a side conversation with Sam that has the two of you forgetting about Dean for the moment. Dean always knew Sam liked you; it's so obvious, at least to him. But he wishes he'd realized before how clearly obvious you are too. He doesn't know if he wants to throw up or throw a party.
...
A couple weeks later
"One or two rooms?" The lady asks.
"One please." Dean replies, handing the lady one of his debit cards that probably had some weird made up name on it. When Dean turns around with his debit card and the key in hand, you and Sam are looking at him weird like a couple of toddlers.
"Really? One room? Since when have we done that?" You questioned.
"Since you and Sammy boy over here started sharing a bed every night. I'm not gonna pay for two rooms when you don't use yours." Dean quickly catches on to how he's embarrassed the two of you so he adds, "and besides, I'd rather you stick with us anyway. Keep the team together." He pats your shoulder with a smirk and leaves the two of you behind. Sam spares a glance at your face and he's a bit surprised to find that you're just as taken aback as he is, but you don't say anything and you follow Dean rather quickly.
The three of you head back to the Impala to grab your bags before heading to the room, and when you go to take out yours, Sam slides in front of you and grabs his in one hand, and yours in the other.
"Sam." You say impassively.
"Yeah?"
"I am fully capable of grabbing my own bag."
"Oh I know. I'm just getting a quick work-out, since you know, your bag is like 50 pounds from all the clothes you carry.
"It is not, I barely bring anything with me!"
"You might be right, but if I may ask, how many of the shirts in here are actually mine?"
You pretend to think, "Um, probably like two. Maybe three."
A wide grin spreads across his face as he laughs at you, "Now you're lying! Half my wardrobe is in here!" Sam pushes the cracked door open with his behind and holds it open for you, standing to the side with his foot on the door. Dean's bag is at the end of his bed and he's already crashed on the bed nearest to the door.
"Hey, it's not my fault your clothes are more comfortable than mine! I don't know who decided that men deserve softer clothes."
"Well, in that case," he dropped the bags, "be my guest."
"Oh, how sweet. I like how you think you had any choice in the matter."
"Haha, very funny. Do you want the first shower?"
"You can take it, I had it the other night. Besides, I need to figure out which shirt I'm stealing tonight. I was thinking of the blue one, or actually, maybe the green-"
"Oh my god, I'm leaving." He rolls his eyes, but you can see the amused smirk on his face as he heads to the bathroom, and gently closes the door behind him. You giggle to yourself as you pull out his blue shirt from your bag and a pair of pants since it's a bit chillier tonight.
He's out of the shower pretty quick, and when he emerges from the steamy bathroom, you're next to Dean's bed whacking him repeatedly with a pillow.
"I told you to stop snoring!" You yell at him.
"Hmph, stop hitting me, crazy woman!" He mumbles sleepily at you. You stop hitting him when you notice Sam watching you, and he wants to laugh at how cute you look, like some kid who's got caught doing something they're not supposed to.
"What, he was bothering me."
He smiles, "I don't doubt it."
He doesn't realize that you froze mainly because he came out in a pair of sweats and no shirt, with his hair dripping wet and a towel around his shoulders. Dean peaks his eyes open and grumbles when he notices the way you're looking at him. You hear Dean, which breaks you out of your temporary trance.
You drop the pillow and give him a sheepish look, "I'm gonna- I'll take my shower now." You nod, promptly leaving the room after you grab the clothes you had set out on your bed. Sam watches you leave, more than a bit confused might he add, suspicious of the way your mood had suddenly changed. Once he hears the water running and the curtain pull back signifying you're in the shower, and can no longer hear him, he settles on the bed and asks Dean a question.
"What happened?"
"You happened, you idiot."
"Excuse me?"
"You heard what I said. I'm sick and tired of watching you two pine after the other when you clearly love each other, so for gods sake- no, my sake, tell the girl you love her and get on with it!"
Sam's face is hysterical, and if Dean weren't so tired right now he'd be laughing, but he's exhausted in more ways than one, so all he can do is shut is eyes and hope his little brother makes a move on the girl who's been his practically since the day they met her.
"D-Dean... I can't just-"
"Yes you can, and you will." Dean finalizes. "At this point I'll just do it for you. It's unbearable." Sam huffs loudly, flopping back onto the bed.
He lays there and stares at the ceiling for awhile until he hears his brother's soft snores coming from the other side of the room; when he sits up and runs a hand through his hair, he hears the shower turn off and your light humming become more audible.
He takes a final deep breath just as you walk out of the bathroom with your hair combed nicely and your warm pajamas, perfectly ready for bed. Not exactly ready for your best friend to confess his undying love for you. He wants to crumble at the sight of your smile.
"You okay?" You ask gently. "You look a little pale."
"Yeah, yeah I'm fine," he waves you off, "When am I not fine?"
You laugh softly, "Do you want me to answer that?"
"Actually no." He gives a soft laugh of his own before his eyes land on his brother again, thinking over the words that were spoken to him just minutes prior to you walking out of that door. You were so near, so close to their conversation, and you have no idea. He can't help but think that maybe you'll be taken aback, shocked beyond belief, or traumatized enough to the point you yell at him and leave him for good. Or, maybe... possibly... there's a small chance you do feel the way that Dean says you feel, and in just a few moments the entirety of your relationship will change. Well, no matter what it'll change.
He just hopes it's what he feels it might be.
Sam's face snaps up to you quickly, like he's just had a sudden thought, and his eyes hold yours for a beat too long before he asks, "Can we go outside for a second?"
"Uh, yeah. Sure." He gets up and takes long strides towards the door, you just a foot behind. He opens it and leaves it open for you to slide through, and he's standing there with his hands in his pockets facing away from you. You give him a questioning glance, but he doesn't see it.
"You have the key?" You query.
"Um..." he pulls out the card in his hand to make sure and you giggle at him, but he just nods, putting it back in his pocket, gulping strangely, "Yeah, I got it."
"Okay." You whisper softly, closing the door quietly behind you. You're silent for a moment, giving him a second to see if he'd speak first, but he doesn't. "You okay, Sammy?"
"I'm in love with you."
Not even a beat later, those words exit his mouth, and everything changes. The atmosphere that was once light, comfortable, and knowing, has shifted to one of fearful eyes, harsh breaths and unspeakable tension. His hands, once unafraid to grab hold of you, now remain glued to his side, flexing and itching to reach forward and touch your skin. His heart is beating so fast he feels like it's getting torn out; each individual piece of it being sliced and picked carefully from his chest as if he were on an operating table.
He can't tell if the look on your face is fear or shock. Probably both. But he doesn't know if it's good or bad and it's scaring him.
"Say something." He breathes out, with a drop of desperation.
Your mouth, hung open for a brief amount of time, now closes, and you gulp just like he did before he uttered those five little words.
"What did you say?" you murmur, looking like you just got pulled from space.
He repeats himself. "I'm in love with you."
You don't say anything again, but he continues.
"You don't know how long I've wanted to say that." He interrupts himself with a laugh, a scared, almost detached sounding laugh, but one nonetheless. You stare at him as he goes on. "For weeks I've had these moments where I look at you and all I can think about is telling you how I feel, but then some part of me ruins it and then I forget about it until you do something again that makes me want to say it again."
"Which, I swear is every two seconds because all you have to do is look at me with those eyes and all I want to do is grab your face and tell you how much I love you, how much you mean to me and how I can't stand sleeping next to you one more night without you knowing that I can't sleep without you anymore. I need you by my side, tucking your head under mine. It's not that I can't because I could, but I don't ever want to again. I could live a hundred lifetimes, all of them with you in them, but if you weren't mine, if you were someone else's, I wouldn't dare live another."
When he notices the tear streaking down your face, he finally reaches forward to hold your cheek in the palm of his hand. Your own comes up from your side to grip tight onto the wrist that's holding your face, and he can tell that you've noticed he's shaking.
"Sam..." Your voice comes out unsure, "Are you sure?"
"Am I sure?" He questions you, giving you an incredulous look. "Sweetheart, I've never been more sure of anything in my life."
You're holding onto him so tight, he just knows what you're going to say next.
"I love you." You thought it would come out a whisper, but it sounds stronger than you expected. You close your eyes, letting out a sigh of relief. "Oh, Sam, I love you so much."
His smile is brighter than a thousand suns, and his forehead drops against yours, staying there as you breath the other in; this new confession bringing in a wind of fresh air that has you feeling like you've both earned a pair of new lungs.
"I thought you might say that." He utters quietly, making you laugh and hit his chest lightly.
"Oh, shut up. Then why were you so scared, dumbass."
"I was confessing my love for you, either way I'm gonna be nervous!"
You smile cheekily, "Your love for me..."
"Don't act like you didn't know." His other hand comes up to hold the other side of your face, tilting your head up more to see you clearly.
"Maybe. But I had my doubts too." You confess.
Sam shrugs, "Well, without Dean I probably wouldn't have said anything for another decade, so-"
Your mouth drops open, "You finally gained the courage because Dean forced you to?" Sam stays still as you gape at him, and he smiles nervously.
"Does it help if I was thinking about it first?"
"Oh my god." You groan dejectedly and drop your head forward onto his chest. He holds the back of your head as he shakes with laughter.
"Okay, okay, be mad at me, whatever. Am I getting my kiss now?"
"Who said you were gonna get one at all?"
"Don't mess with me."
"I wouldn't dare."
...
The next morning, Dean groggily peels his eyes open to the morning sunlight peeking out of the curtains, and grumbles, questioning the time. It's around 8 am, which surprises him because he would have expected you or Sam to have woken him by now. At the thought of you guys, he turns over and manages to find himself alone in the dingy motel room. The bed covers are torn from the top of the bed, more settled towards the end of it, showing that you guys obviously slept in it, but there's no sign you or Sam are even still here.
Suddenly, he hears the low growl of his Baby pulling up outside, making him swing his legs out of bed and trudge over to the door. He swings it open, getting ready to yell at the both of you for going anywhere without him, even if it was breakfast, but his eyes widen and his jaw drops at the sight he's seeing.
You and Sam are standing close together near the trunk, leaning against the side, but mostly the other. Sam's hand, that isn't holding the grocery bags, is holding your hip, and you're looking up at him with a mischievous look in your eye. Sam says something which conjures up a giggle out of you, which then has Sam smiling brightly at the sight of you. He leans down and kisses you straight on the lips, holding you there for a moment before he pulls away to catch his breath. Both of you stand there, unaware of Dean's eyes on you, but neither of you would even really care if you did.
Dean's shocked expression turns to one of accomplishment. He nods, satisfied, and smiles like his brother just did. He sighs.
"Kids."
#sam winchester x reader#sam winchester x female reader#sam winchester x you#sam winchester x y/n#sam winchester#supernatural
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slow down for me.
choso x reader.
summary:
i saw this tik tok about choso being able to stay hard forever and immediately started to write lmao. choso using his technique to stay hard so he can fuck you all night long<3
c/w: fem reader, kinda dom but mainly sub choso, riding, multiple rounds, overstimulation, choso’s blood manipulation, choking, hair pulling, alludes to m!recieving oral at the end, mating press position, choso whimpering *drools*, choso’s a menace tbh.
word count: 1.3k
likes, comments and reposts are deeply appreciated! <3 enjoy.
-`♡´-
“Shit, baby. Can you slow down for me?”
For the past two hours, Choso had been drilling into you and filling you up non-stop. He couldn’t get enough of the feeling of your tight cunt wrapped around him, sucking him in like you needed him just as much as he needed you.
Choso couldn’t physically hold himself back. The minute he first entered you, he knew he’d have you in all sorts of positions before he stopped - even if it meant he was immensely overstimulated and in need of a pause. You didn’t think anything would stop him apart from the agreed upon safe word, yet you couldn’t bring yourself to wanting to stop either.
The minute he came inside of you, filling you up to the brim, he’d simply make himself hard again and continue to pound himself inside of you.
He was currently panting in your ear, and in contrast to the forceful and dominating thrusts, he couldn’t help back his whines from slipping past his lips. The noises falling into your ears made you tighten around him and bring your hands to tug on his hair in the exact way he likes it.
”C-can’t, feels, mmphh, so good-“
He had your legs over his shoulders as he pummeled into you, you could feel your mind slipping away as long as the ability to walk in the morning. Your legs were aching, yet there was nothing that could take your mind away from the mind blowing pleasure Choso was bringing you.
There was the familiar smell of sweat and sex in the air, the room was drowning in it. The air felt thick and you were consumed by the repetitive feeling of Choso hitting your sweet spot and the sound of skin slapping against skin - combined with his words and both of your moans.
You brought your hands around to caress his face, taking his cheeks in your hands and lifting his face so it was directly in front of yours.
His lips were pouted and his eyes were half-lidded with a hazed look swimming within them.
Pressing your lips to his, he let out a deep groan and as if spurred on just by your lips, his thrusts grew impossibly faster and harder. You let out a gasp, your hands reaching out for support as they grasped onto his back, nails scratching at the skin.
Your lips were parted and his head was resting against yours. Your breathing matched his as you took in every sound he made. Each whine went straight to your head and made it spin.
You could feel yourself reaching yet another orgasm as if he hadn’t pulled out enough to make you lose count already.
His hips were slowing down and losing their rhythm, indicating that he was also close to climaxing. You captured his lips in yours again, motivating him to keep going.
The two of you finished at the exact same time. Yet somehow, when you regained a stable state of mind, you could feel Choso twitching inside of you - still hard.
You were panting, still trying to regain feeling between your legs and yet he was already ready for another round. You looked at him with disbelief etched into your face yet he simply ignored it.
”One more time,” He kissed your jaw. “ Please just-“ Another kiss underneath your ear. “Just one more, I promise.” He sighed, kissing your cheek and then your neck and finally your lips.
You were exhausted, so close to your limit. But, when he begged you so nicely, how could you have said no? It would have been heartless to leave such a needy and desperate boy unsatisfied.
You pushed his chest away, causing him to flop beside you, before straddling his hips. His dick throbbed against your leg. It was hard and red, screaming to be touched yet also to be left alone.
Teasingly, you dragged your hands up his body causing Choso to close his eyes and sigh whilst also bucking his hands needily upwards.
You said his name in warning and he immediately stopped moving, yet that didn’t prevent his lips from forming a frown. It was cute though, and you couldn’t stop yourself from kissing it. However, it was never just one kiss. Choso brought his hand up to tangle into your hair as he pushed his tongue into your mouth.
You kissed him back whilst also taking his dick into your hand and pressing it into the aching spot between your legs. Without putting it in, you rubbed the tip between your folds and smirked against his lips as he whimpered at the feeling.
The two of you moaned in sync when you slipped his dick inside of you once more.
Lazily, you started to grind up against him and move your hips up and down. The more you moved, the more you needed from him. As if sensing this, Choso snaked his hand to reach in the space between both of your bodies and rubbed his finger against your clit slowly.
You couldn’t help the way your hand reached up his body to grip his neck, and he couldn’t restrain the loud moan from falling between his swollen lips.
The two of you stayed like that, with you bouncing down on his cock with your hand wrapped tightly around his throat and his own hand playing with your pussy.
The feeling was messy, a combination of overwhelming pleasure and overstimulation. Your entire body was begging you to stop, yet your unreasonable and clouded mind saw no reason to.
Not when you peered down at Choso underneath you, who’s breathing was ragged yet there was a smile on his lips and a strange look in his almost-closed eyes.
You were so close to your limit, though, and were certain you’d have to stop soon.
However you knew that, even if you did stop, the next day all it would take would be for Choso to press his aching hard on against you for you to repeat this all over again.
You continued to ride him, your tits bouncing up and down and his other hand reaching to grab at one, pulling and twisting at your nipple.
You were so close. That same feeling from multiple times tonight arising once again where the knot in your stomach was stretching and ready to snap, and the combination of Choso’s hands and his dick hitting you over and over again was enough to send you over the edge.
Collapsing against him, Choso started to thrust upwards into you as you laid against him, taking it all whilst trying to calm down.
His voice was soft and quiet as he started to speak, telling you how good you were to him and how much he loves you.
He kissed the top of your head and thrusted relentlessly up into you, sputtering out quiet moans that you may not have heard had your ear not been next to his mouth.
Moments after your own orgasm, Choso’s followed. Once again, he shot his heavy load up inside of you whilst he whined and tears began forming in his eyes. His fucked you all throughout his orgasm, not stopping until he had given you everything he had.
When he finally stopped, you took a deep sigh of relief, prepared to get up and take a bath.
Yet you stopped in your tracks when you felt his dick, hard, pressing against you. You looked up at him, and smirked.
”Don’t w’nna get up. Can you clean me up with your mouth?”
Choso knew exactly how to get to you. He had you wrapped around his finger and he knew it too well. Just like you knew that it would end up being the death of you, both his seemingly innocent looking eyes peering up at you, begging you for just one more, and that stupid technique of his.
You looked at the man who had finished inside of you many times that night with wide eyes, before shaking your head and laughing to yourself. Of course, you also moved down his body, making sure to kiss every inch, and began to suck at his tip still leaking cum, because you loved him and it was so hard to say no too.
Truthfully, you should have known better than to believe that was the end.
a/n: i will edit another day lol
#fanfic#smut#jjk smut#jjk fanfic#jjk x reader#choso smut#choso kamo smut#choso kamo x reader#sub choso smut#choso x reader#choso x you#choso x female reader#choso x y/n#choso fanfiction#choso fanfic#jujutsu kaisen fanfic#jujutsu kaisen smut#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen x reader smut#jujutsu kaisen x you
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Dating Theo Headcanons
gn!reader; fluff & light smut at the end
a/n: i’m currently drowning in Mattheo writing so here’s boyfriend headcanons for our favorite italian slytherin while i finish bigger projects ♡
♡ Ofc he calls you a bunch of sweet names in italian, some of his favorites include: vita mia, tesorino, principessa/principe, and of course la mia ragazza/il mio ragazzo, which is simple but makes you melt anyway
♡ Speaking of foreign languages, you definitely beg him to teach you some italian so you can talk shit behind everyone’s backs
♡ He might seem stoic and cold, but just underneath the surface he’s a sweetheart
♡ This man is a cuddler and he loves being little spoon. And getting his hair played with? He’s a goner
♡ One of his favorite things is when he’s standing in the halls between classes and you run up to him and wrap your arms around his torso, he just wants to feel wanted
♡ Y’all have a height difference too, so when you hug him your head rests perfectly on his chest where he can press a kiss on the top of your head
♡ He likes intertwining your pinkies when you walk together
♡ Gift giving is one of his love languages, whether it’s buying you that new book you had your eye on or a piece of jewelry he thought would look good on you or taking you out to dinner every weekend, he loved spoiling you
♡ He got the biggest smile on his face when you told him you wanted to start coming to his quidditch practices and he immediately was like “i’m gonna marry this person one day” after you looked at him with puppy eyes asking for his team hoodie
♡ If you’re not in slytherin he loves seeing you sitting at your house table wearing his green hoodie. Regardless of which house you’re in, he takes some pride in having his last name plastered on your back
♡ He’s really picky about what people call him and you’re no exception. Anyone other than you call him Teddy? They better be ready to catch these hands. But also he’d probably cry if you tried calling him Theodore or heaven forbid— Nott
♡ As for couples activities, he is 100% a switch. Sometimes he’s got you under him screaming his name, but he’s got no shame about the noises he makes when you take control and call him a good boy
♡ I also heavy agree with the sentiment that he loves going down. Eating, blowing, worshipping? He’s all about it.
♡ Honestly, he’s just obsessed with you
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