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mondaymelon · 5 months

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first time in this account lol Idk if you're taking requests but I saw that post some minutes ago and... Idk, wanted to request something lol, if you didn't do it yet! What about headcanons with a reader who doesn't show physical attention until some years of knowing them? Like, they know each other for about 5 years and just then the reader decides to do some small act of physical affection... I wanted the headcanons to be with Childe, Arlecchino, Wanderer and Furina! If you can <3

₊˚ෆ 𝐈𝐅 𝐈𝐓'𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔… | childe, wanderer, arlecchino, furina x gn!reader

( childe's part might be a little ooc. havent done that part of the archon quest yet cries. also mwah arlecchino we love her in this household !! )

[ You were always someone who wasn’t fond of physical attention. Fleeting touches and kisses to the cheeks were never your forte, yet what should happen if the lover you’ve had for years is suddenly on the receiving end of such affections? ]

"physical affection... ah- it's okay if you can't show that to me, there's plenty of other ways to tell that you love me!"

CHILDE was the one to say those words to you, and the held the most certain truth. You were his lover, and a hug or two couldn't sway the fact! While the harbinger is quite the puppy and often yearns for your warmth, he'll respect your boundaries and allow you whatever. A lover like Childe places your happiness as a priority over his, wanting more to see your eyes sparkle than his own.

"Love, you wouldn't believe what happened in the courthouse today." You glance up from your spot where you're curled up on the couch, snuggled into a fluffy blanket and holding a warm drink in your hands, one of Inazuma's light novels sitting on the armrest. You hear the door to the two of you's home shut and lock, and listen to... Childe's footsteps. How strange, is he stumbling?

Glancing up, you internally gape at the cuts on his body, your eyes instantly drawn at the red splattered across his features. "'Taglia, what hap-"

He lets out a dry chuckle, grinning sheepishly as he rids his shoes at the door. "No worries, the blood isn't mine. Most of it, at least. I managed to get out of there in time, so all's well, yeah?"

As if that'd provide you any comfort. You narrow your eyes, glaring at him unyieldingly, until Childe has no choice but to force out another tasteless chuckle. "Come on now, I'm home, so let's do something fun instead of just being mad at me, 'kay?"

"Tartaglia."

The man flinches, his deep ocean eyes rounding. When you call him that and not his nickname, he knew that he had landed himself in deep shit. "Okay, okay, I'm sorry." He says that, but the sentence rounds up in a change of his tone, sounding almost suspiciously like a question. "It won't happen aga-"

The world itself seems to stop.

Your head is buried into his chest, arms wrapped around his waist. Archons, can you hear how fast his heart is beating? You've made him into a complete and utter mess. He's blushing, his ears practically on fire, and any thoughts once in his brain have been seared away in single second. It takes him to the count of three to remember how to breathe once more, his chest erratically heaving up and down as his shaking arms wrap around you hesitantly, wondering if it'd be okay to do so.

"...Love?"

"Mhm?"

"I- I thought you-"

"If it's with you, I'm okay."

Oh, how those words tug at his heart. You look so perfect in his arms - yes, you looked simply perfect all the time, he'd admit in a split-second. The messy nest of hair atop your head when you woke up in the early mornings, the dark bags under your eyes when you didn't sleep until late at night, your smile, your laugh, even your scowl. It silenced any effort to not fall in love with you.

A smile tugs at his lips. A bright one, a warm one, if that was even possible. Perhaps his eyes are shining with tears, or perhaps it was merely a trick of light, but he holds you all the closer, not wanting to let you go.

"Love, I... Archons, I don't think I'd be able to love anyone but you." ₊˚ෆ

"..great. i don't want your filthy hands on me anyways, so there shouldn't be a problem, hm?"

WANDERER's words were just that, would it kill him to be a little nicer? It didn't matter... you knew your lover well, or at least well enough to tell that what he said wasn't the complete truth.

Sure, you had seen him shrug off and make expressions of disgust directed towards particularly touchy people that he'd become somewhat acquainted with. And you most certainly had witnessed his frustrated outbursts and rants when he returned home to your shared abode, whining and grumbling about any trivial error someone had made - that is, brushing fingers with him while passing him papers. Something that couldn't exactly be avoided, yet he had glared at the wall for a good amount all the same.

Ah, but then there were moments when he thought you weren't looking, and that was when his eyes would drink you in. Grazing over your eyes, to your lips, then to your hands, where'd they linger on your fingers for perhaps longer than they should.

And you'd catch the times where you were inclined to say something flirtatious - words that were never all that flirtatious in the first place, Wanderer just happened to be unusually susceptible. Chin resting on your hand, eyes staring into his, you'd say something about how pretty he was, and then he'd just about go into neurogenic shock, likely not speaking to you the rest of the day, the tips of his ears, if one squinted to a certain extent, pink.

"Love." You glance up at him, a slight pout fixed on your lips. He'd been immersed in minor tasks, and those pesky things were what stole his attention away from you. An ironic twist of fate, as you were usually the one to be drowning in work, and he'd be the one practically begging for affection.

He hums, yet doesn't even bother to look at you.

"Do you want to go for a walk?"

"No."

"Go get something to eat?"

"No."

"Visit the... House of Daena?"

"No."

"Shall we feed the finches?"

A slight pause. "...No."

"Then... let's hold hands?"

He froze at your words, and it seemed that the male lost the function of inhaling, for he sat there unmoving for what seemed like hours, his expression petrified in its form of his large eyes, raised eyebrows, and mouth slightly ajar.

"...Excuse me?" It seemed that he doubted his own ears, for he set his work aside and fixed his focus upon you, fingers trembling just the slightest.

"Hmph, have you suddenly forgotten how to think?" You frowned, yet your eyes curved into crescents all the same, and Wanderer felt his breath hitch at how ethereal you were. The sly fox you were, you took his moment of shock, settling by his side and intertwining your fingers with his. "Like this, is it not?" You were smiling now, and for the first time you glimpsed the red on his ears, but now on his face too, a rosy red descending upon his cheeks.

"What's..." Perhaps you were right. His vocabulary had suddenly dwindled, and now he had nothing but questions - that, and the growing warmth in his chest. "What do you think you're doing right now?"

Whatever attempt he had to sound "mean" had failed. You knew him too well for that. "Holding hands, what else? Your hands are cold you know-" And at that he flinched. "But it feels nice."

D...Did it really?

"You, no... love, let's stay like this. You're... warm." ₊˚ෆ

"when you sought me, i thought it'd be a serious matter. there's no trouble in it, truly, so there's no need to look so dejected."

ARLECCHINO hadn't even batted an eye. Was there a reason to? Yes, this certainly crossed off any thought of romantic couple things like kissing and hand holding, but it wasn't like she'd gasp dramatically and fall to the ground, blaming you for setting boundaries-

As if she'd ever. Your imagination was running wild today, perhaps it was the lack of sleep finally catching up to you? It was a stark contrast compared to Arlecchino, who went days without rest, shuffling through paper after paper on her desk and constantly relaying messages to her subordinates. She was a hard worker - a trait most easily overlooked, but it was a point of adoration for you. A point among many. Arlecchino was an easy person to love, despite the bristling thorns she'd show at first glance.

"Darling, a cup of tea, please?" Her gaze flicked up from her work to you, a thin smile decorating her lips. It was more a less a habit the two of you established - that is, pouring her tea. Her favorite cup was the one you had gifted her when you first started your relationship, shaded in a dark hue and embellished with roses, their blooms, petals, and thorny branches spreading across the expanse of porcelain. You placed said cup on her desk with a breath of satisfaction, tilting you head in questioning at the unusual amount of papers on her desk.

"Arle, did something happen?"

She merely chuckled to herself, her eyes shining with delight. "Ah, why don't you wager a guess?" You were her "subordinate" of sorts, although your true association was far more intimate. You knew of her plans with Fontaine, and helped carry them out. She revered your loyalty, but your warmth far more.

"...Has the hydro gnosis been secured?"

She snapped her fingers in one swift motion, her small smile widening into a true one that played across her ruby lips. "Correct, I'd expect nothing less of someone as capable as my lover."

"Then, Lyney, Lynette, and Freminet..."

"They've done well." It'd be hard to forsake the note of pride in her voice. Setting down the sheets in her gloved hands, she stood from her seat slowly, letting her eyes scan over your body. "You've asked your question, now shall I ask mine? Darling, I did quite well myself, did I not?"

Her expectant gaze read one thing, but instead of the usual quality time spending the two of you'd share, this time, you had rather differing plans. Smiling, you walked up to her, not letting the way her eyes sparkled just the slightest escape your sight. Promptly, sneakily, you flung yourself upon her, beaming as your hands found refuge winding about her torso, nearly instantly trapping her into your death hug. "You did, Arle~!"

"..." At her silence, you glanced up, only to be met with a sight that drew blush upon your own cheeks. Her usually composed, mystery-shroud features were now conflicted with crossing emotions... of what, however, was rather indecipherable. Arlecchino was a person of many masks, yet now it seemed that her "mask" displayed but one thing - love.

"Darling, I... you look perfect in my arms, so shall we stay like this a moment longer?" ₊˚ෆ

"is that so? a trivial matter, is it by law that i must hold you in my arms in order to prove my love for you?"

FURINA's multicolored irises and teardrop pupils twinkled, their shine dancing on the moonlit breeze. A hand daintily held a teacup, its fragrant contents swirling about the porcelain basin. Her laugh accompanied the cool evening wind, and she fluttered her eyes shut in a smile that brightened her expression. "Come now, why so shocked? Wouldn't this be expected from someone as benevolent as I?"

It was a scene that would remain forever painted in your mind, like a beautiful mural that one's eyes could not possibly forsake. The way her mouth tugged upwards and the manner in which her eyes curv-

"Hey, are you even listening to me right now?" A familiar voice tugged you out of your reminiscence of the confrontation months prior. Furina displayed a childish frown on her lips, her partly furrowed eyes sharpening her gaze into a rather particular one.

Oh, lost in thought once more. You let out a soft sigh, nodding sheepishly. "Yes, love, I am.."

"Mhm..." Your words left a no, you clearly aren't!" Furina sat up, her intensifying discontentment apparent on her features. "I said I got you access to front ticket seats to the hottest new court case! You know, the one involving the robbery... the one that's quite literally got the entire Steambird in a chokehold? Yet, you're not excited in the slightest!?" She sounded offended, and she likely was, for her cheeks were flushed the slightest in rash frustration and her narrowed eyes creased at their corners. "Appreciate my efforts, why don't you?"

"Appreciate" indeed.

Ah, but was a sudden, tight embrace overshooting it? For she tensed in your arms, her frame absolutely suspended in your hold, her slack jaw giving the slightest tremor. "Mon amour, just w-what are you-?"

"Come now, Furina, am I not permitted to hug my own lover now?" The jesting in your voice faded as the sarcastic grin on your face formed a smaller, more genuine one. "I'm... ah, I'm okay, if it's with you. I'll be okay."

She paused at your words, contemplation of them flashing in her gaze, and let out a gratified exhale. "Then..." she nearly melted in your embrace, leaning her head into your arms compliantly.

"Don't you dare think I've forgotten about your previous transgression, but... ah, it can be forgiven, can't it, mon amour?" ₊˚ෆ

(a/n) hc hc hc hc furina calls youfrench petnames because french oui oui baguette.. AHEM my sincerest apologies to any french or french speakers...

REBLOGS APPRECIATED!! please consider following me as i amm soosososoo close to a follower goal ive been wanting to reach and itd be crazy if i could reach it before christmas!!!

໒꒱ || ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ (open! send an ask or a comment ♡) : @manager-of-the-pudding-bank, @iamdedinside, @ilyuu, @achlysis, @swivy123, @scara-is-my-wife, @lupicalbestwolf, @justyoureader

-> teehee what if yall left a message on my christmas tree 😶😶😶

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sundrop-writes · 2 months

Text

Careful - Chapter Four

(Dad)Spencer Reid x (Mom)Fem!Reader

Chapter Four: Last Hope

It’s just a spark but it’s enough to keep me going.

Summary:

The entire axis of your world is shifting.

Spencer is not the man you left alone all those years ago, and you don't know how to react to him being such a perfect, caring father. You also don't know how to react to the potential that you could be killed by someone who has already gutted five other women.

Luckily, Spencer is there to protect you. Another thing you don't fully know how to react to - but somehow, you just go with it.

Dad!Spencer Reid x Mom!Fem!Reader. Exes to Lovers. (Slight) Fluff and Angst.

Word Count: 8,800

Criminal Minds Masterlist | AO3 Link | Series Masterlist

Detailed warnings and author's notes below.

Warnings: Again, basic warnings for a Criminal Minds episode - mentions of murder/killing, the reader character is the next target of a serial killer; mentions of the reader wearing a sexy Halloween costume (during a flashback); mentions of gender roles - the reader doesn’t raise Sebastian with strict gender roles (and Spencer appreciates this); mentions of the reader giving birth (not graphic descriptions); some emotional tension between Spencer and the reader; angst because Spencer is upset about missing out on so much of Sebastian’s life; passing mention of abortion; the reader is threatened (in a graphic way) and called whore in a derogatory manner by the UnSub; Spencer is also threatened in a very graphic way by the UnSub; specific threats of stabbing and rape (toward the reader); passing mention of poop (because come on, this is a little kid, and kids talk about their poop a lot); I believe that’s it for this chapter.

A/N: So, this chapter starts off with a flashback rather than ending with one, because flashbacks are important to how information is revealed to the audience, and I think it works here. Idk what else to say about this chapter - I think it's a nice transition into the climax. I hope you guys enjoy it!!

...

Halloween. It was always a time when Spencer thrived the most - and he thrived even more when spending it with you.

It was your second Halloween together as a couple, and Spencer loved that you enjoyed celebrating the holiday just as much as he did. You loved dressing up, you loved all of the spooky lore behind Halloween. And of course, you loved listening to all of the real life facts he had to tell you about Halloween’s history, and things like vampires, werewolves, zombies, and all of the Halloween traditions and how they evolved over time.

You didn’t think before that learning about the origins of Halloween could make it even more fun, but Spencer somehow made it into the most exciting educational documentary of your life.

This year, you had invited him to a house party that one of your work friends was hosting. It would be some light drinking, finger food, dancing to cheesy Halloween songs, and most likely sitting around and talking while roasting marshmallows around your friend’s backyard fire pit. It wouldn’t be anything big, but you expected it to be a really fun night.

You showed up to Spencer’s place wearing a straight off the rack, generic ‘sexy witch’ costume. It consisted of a very wide brimmed pointy hat, dark make-up, and a tight corset drawing attention to your curves, as well as a short tulle skirt, flared sleeves, and black fishnets and black boots to top off the look. He found you irresistible and almost wanted to stay at home. But he was looking forward to the party; he was excited to meet your friends and he knew that the occasion meant a lot to you.

He told you that he was planning on going as a young Ernest Hemmingway, and as much as you adored it, because it was a very Spencer thing to do - you knew that it was very unlikely that anybody else at the party would be able to identify his costume on sight, and that would probably disappoint him. He would be standing proudly, asking people to guess who he was, and they would come up blank because they weren’t in the same mindset as him.

So you advised him of this, and encouraged him to steer his costume in a different direction. (And Spencer - trusting any advice you gave, simply let you lead him.)

You took the late 1800s style clothing he had picked out for the occasion, and some of the makeup you had brought in your bag for potential touch-ups - and you convinced him to let you dress him up as a sexy vampire who had been turned in the late 1800s.

You did his makeup - with some dark eyeliner, that he winced at the entire time, some dark eyeshadow, and some red lipstick smudged around his mouth to appear as though it were blood he had just siphoned from his latest victim. And the entire time you worked, he came up with an elaborate name and backstory for his vampire character. You delighted in listening to him tell you all about Frederic Henry - named after a Hemmingway character. A man who was shot in the military and assumed dead, but who was saved in the trenches of World War I by a vampire’s bite, and then lived on.

You encouraged him to wear his shirt unbuttoned quite a bit, creating a deep V down to his chest that he wouldn’t have worn any other time. Thinking about his story, you even used the eyeliner to create the scar of a bullet wound on his chest, slightly hidden by his shirt - something to hint at Frederic’s tragic past.

(Both you and Spencer got way too into it, but you were having fun.)

You were running a bit late by the time you left Spencer’s apartment, but it was a casual house party, and you knew that nobody was going to call you out for being ‘late’.

You parked a few blocks away, not wanting to drive through the neighborhood with so many kids out and about on foot. It was still early in the evening, and many kids were still out, knocking on doors, getting their candy.

“They’re so cute, aren’t they?” You remarked as the two of you walked down the sidewalk, hand in hand with Spencer as you made your way toward the party among a sea of Trick or Treaters.

“Kids in costumes? Or just kids in general?” Spencer replied with a chuckle, trying to clarify what you had said.

(There was a hopeful edge in his voice, a daring longing in his eyes as he looked at the parents helping their children from house to house. Something deep inside of him that hoped the two of you could have your place here a few years from now.)

“Kids in general are cute.” You shrugged. “But kids in their little costumes are so much cuter.”

Spencer’s insides fluttered - seeing you light up with joy just talking about children, knowing that it might be in your future. Knowing that it might be a part of his future with you.

“If we had a baby, would you wanna dress him up for Halloween?” Spencer asked.

You wanted to fixate on the ‘if’ - to tell him that you thought it was something more certain in your future, with the way things were going. That you thought he would make an amazing father. That you wanted it to be a ‘when’.

Instead, you chose a different part of his statement to pick at.

“You sound awfully certain that our kid would be a boy.” You chuckled. “Please don’t tell me you’re one of those guys who would be disappointed by having a girl.”

That would be a dealbreaker for you. As amazing as Spencer was - he had to be just as good of a father to a daughter as he would be to a son in order to stay in the picture.

“Goodness, no.” Spencer replied, shaking his head.

He held back. He didn’t tell you that he had spent far too much time - hours on the plane rides back home, nights when he couldn’t sleep - thinking about his future with you. He imagined three kids. An oldest boy, and two girls, about a year or two apart each. A golden retriever, a house - he had even picked out which district he wanted to live in based on schools in the area and lowest crime rates.

He knew it was stupid, but he had already been squirreling away money for a downpayment on that house. When you were ready, he wanted to be able to give you everything you could ever ask for. He had way too much time to fantasize, and he didn’t want to admit that to you now.

“Just - it slipped out.” He chuckled. “I would be thrilled if we had a little girl. But - I pictured us having a boy.”

In his mind’s eye, his daughter was so much like you. And if that came to pass, then he would be the luckiest man on earth.

“You did?” You grinned at him, a distinct light in your eye.

Spencer found his chest untightening as he breathed in relief.

“Well, if he’s half as cute as you,” You said, moving a hand over to pinch one of his cheeks, which made him smile and let out a huff, half forming into a laugh. “Then I definitely wanna dress him up in a Halloween costume. Especially while he’s still little and cute and can’t argue about what I wanna dress him up as. Before he starts talking and wants to be that fuzzy guy from Star Wars.”

“You mean Chewbacca?” Spencer asked, wondering which one you were talking about.

“Yeah!” You said. “The big ugly one. The little teddy bear guys are cute, but the big one is kind of creepy.”

“We had an all-day Star Wars marathon, and you didn’t tell me that you thought Chewbacca was creepy?” Spencer chuckled, his mind now distancing from the subject of the two of you having kids.

“Yeah, because you were there to protect me!” You replied, your voice still filled with lightness and laughter. “And I didn’t even really realize it until after. I had this weird nightmare-”

“You had nightmares about Chewbacca?”

“One nightmare! It was only one!”

The subject of children was forgotten, then.

Your laughter echoed off into the night, and you didn’t think much of the conversation.

Spencer remarked on it as a precious memory - as a sign that his savings account was an insurance policy for his future, not a fool’s errand. After the break-up, he thought about it over and over - he wondered where he had gone so wrong, how he had lost you. If you had felt so secure in your future together - how had he lost you?

…

Spencer wasn’t sure how it was possible, but he was growing more and more love for Sebastian with each passing moment.

After he got off the phone with Derek, he went back into the house to be mobbed by Sebastian. Having the boy run into his arms with so much excitement - it made him feel more heroic than anything he had done with the BAU for the past years of his life. So often, when he carted off a killer to jail or when he saw a victim returned to the arms of their family, he couldn’t feel the relief or the calm that JJ or Gideon spoke of. He just felt so empty.

But having Sebastian hug him tight and ramble in his ear with excitement about all his plans for their afternoon - it made his chest swell with a grand importance that he had only gotten a taste of when he was with you. When he was making you happy. It felt like a moment that his whole life was leading up to.

You asked Spencer if it was okay for you to go back to your office and get some work done while he occupied Sebastian, and he could think of nothing he wanted more - except maybe for you to join him, and to spend some true quality time with him and his son. But he hoped that would come later. And this in itself was progress - you trusting him to play with Sebastian, to spend time alone with him while you got your work done.

Sebastian showed Spencer every single one of his toy dinosaurs, and they played with those for quite a while. They also had a tea party with some large bears and dolls present - and Spencer was delighted by the fact that you didn’t buy him gender specific toys. Knowing that this opened up different areas of play and imagination, and allowed for his development to be nurtured by gentleness and caring that young boys didn’t often get in a society so rigid about gender roles.

Spencer really couldn’t imagine a better boy. You had raised such a beautiful, smart son. Someone who was polite, so caring, and gentle.

Spencer was practically swollen with love, overwhelmed at getting to spend time with his son.

His heart felt as though it might burst out of his chest and he knew that he looked fitful, actively holding back overwhelmed tears while Sebastian poured the imaginary tea for each member sitting around the small plastic table and they clinked their tiny plastic cups together in a toast.

Then, Sebastian wanted to show Spencer a favorite movie of his. He rushed downstairs to put it on the TV, and as he was picking it out among the DVDs, he became distracted by something at the top of the shelf beside the TV.

“My Halloween basket!” Sebastian said, pointing to an orange basket at the top of the shelf - one that did appear as though it was for Halloween, with a jack-o-lantern’s face painted on the front of it.

“Mommy says treats are for after dinner. But… can we have one now?” The boy looked hopefully toward Spencer, knowing that he would be able to reach the basket and bring it down toward him.

Spencer didn’t want to undermine your rules. You had done so well raising Sebastian this far, so you were clearly doing everything right.

He crouched down to the boy’s level.

“We should go ask your Mommy if it’s okay to have one.” He told Sebastian, who nodded, and then ran off toward your office with that thunderous urgency in his steps.

He heard a distant ‘Mommy!’ - and a bang that could have been Sebastian’s version of a knock or him downright smacking the office door until it opened. But then he heard your voice murmuring and what must have been a frustrated sigh.

Spencer felt slightly bad that he had sent Sebastian to interrupt your work, especially over something so small. But he didn’t want to lose progress with you and have you reaming him out for giving your son sugar without your permission.

You soon came into the room and went straight for the candy bucket, lifting it off the shelf and bringing it down to Sebastian’s level so that he could choose one.

“I know it seems cruel. But I didn’t want him eating it all on Halloween and puking, so he’s allowed to have one a day, usually as a treat after dinner.” You explained, clearly wanted to lay out your reasoning for Spencer.

“No, no, it’s not cruel.” Spencer replied quickly. “It’s a good idea. Regulating his intake of sugar while not completely restricting it as something sacred or off-limits. It’s a good call.”

Sebastian picked out a small packet of M&Ms, and then you went to lift the bucket away, and he spoke up.

“Can I pick one for my friend Spencer, too?” He asked.

“Yeah, go ahead.” You nodded, and then you added on: “Spencer’s favorite is Snickers.”

Of course, Spencer was floored that you remembered this.

Sebastian picked out a mini Snickers and then excitedly thrust it in Spencer’s direction.

“Aw, thanks buddy!” Spencer said, eagerly taking it with a grin, even reaching out to give him a high five while he smiled up at Spencer in return.

(He was too busy looking at Sebastian with those stars in his eyes to notice the way you were watching the pair - watching all of your dreams unfold before you with an odd mixture of bitterness and affection swelling up inside of you.)

Sebastian moved on to picking out the movie and you went to walk out of the room again, seemingly to get back to work, but Spencer stopped you. Something else was on his mind.

“Y/N.” He called your name gently, and you turned back to him, your arms crossed stiffly.

He was just glad that you didn’t seem so angry at him using your name this time.

“Do - do you have any pictures of Sebastian in his Halloween costume?” He asked meekly, afraid that you would stamp out this request with more anger and defensiveness.

“Why?” You gaped, seeming very confused that he would even ask this.

“I - I just wanted to see.” Spencer replied.

‘Because I missed out on so much of him.’ He hesitated to say. ‘I know it’s impossible, but I want those years back.’

The deep sadness lingering in Spencer’s eyes caused your stomach to clench.

He had really changed. This wasn’t the same man who had been standing in the apartment that night. This wasn’t the same person who had been so callous and stubborn - the same person that you felt you needed to protect your unborn child from.

Maybe this was the man you had fallen in love with, somehow rescued from the clutches of that person you didn’t know who had mocked you while wearing Spencer’s face.

“Gimme a minute.” You told him. And then you leaned in close before you whispered something else. “And you should let him see you eat the Snickers, otherwise he’s gonna be insulted.”

Spencer smiled at this.

Sebastian waved him over then, and he asked which DVD Spencer would rather watch. Spencer ate the Snickers and thanked Sebastian for sharing his treats once again while the boy went through a very detailed explanation of the plot of the films so Spencer would have an informed choice. And then Spencer picked, and Sebastian moved to put the movie into the DVD player.

This was when you came back with a thick envelope filled with pictures and handed them over to Spencer.

“I had these printed a while ago.” You explained. “I was planning on making a scrapbook for my mom, for mother’s day. It’s… basically every important moment in Sebastian’s life.”

“That’s my baby picture!” Sebastian said excitedly, looking over at the pictures in Spencer’s lap. “That’s when I was a baby, after I was born. I was one day old. Mommy said that everyone used to be one day old at some point, but that just sounds weird!”

Spencer’s throat clenched up with tears, and this clashed with the laughter he experienced from Sebastian’s comments.

But as he looked through the pictures, he had a much harder time holding back his tears.

Seeing all of the pictures, all of those moments - it slowly broke him.

The first picture was one of Sebastian wrapped in a very clinical swaddling blanket when he was still so new and wrinkly, only hours after his birth. Spencer could imagine how small Sebastian would have been in his arms. The tiny little newborn sounds he would have made. Spencer wished that he could have held your hand through the birth, that he could have been there with both of you in the hospital during those first few days of his life.

Then, a picture of you holding Sebastian in his nursery when you had brought him home from the hospital - a photo that was most likely taken by your mom. You had such a big, bright smile on your face. You looked so perfect with him in your arms. You were such a good mother.

There were pictures of him when he was more alert - his big, curious eyes looking at the world for the first time; what appeared to be his first picnic out at the park when he was laying on his back on a soft blanket, taking in the world for the first time. Spencer could imagine how sweet his baby laughter would be - what it would have been like blowing raspberries on his soft belly and kissing you under the warm sun.

He continued flipping through the photos - another one of what must have been his first Halloween. He was dressed up as a chubby round Jack-o-Lantern with his little fist in his mouth, drooling around it while your mother held him for the picture.

And then - pictures of him walking experimentally while you held him by both of his hands; him sitting in front of a Christmas tree, opening an exciting Christmas toy that made him beam with a big smile.

Pictures of important memories all throughout his life, all the way up until recently. This past Halloween, he had dressed up as Luke Skywalker.

He liked Star Wars.

“Um, can I use your bathroom?” Spencer choked out.

He knew that he was crying very blatantly now.

His chest was caving in as all of it truly hit him - how much of his son’s life he had missed. He didn’t wait for you to direct him because he knew that he had passed the bathroom coming down the hall. He abandoned the photos in the middle of the coffee table, haste to escape.

Sebastian looked at him with sad eyes as he stormed out of the room.

“Why is my friend Spencer sad?” He asked in a small voice, looking up at you. “He doesn’t like my pictures?”

“No, honey, your pictures are beautiful.” You assured him, kneeling down by the table and gathering up the pictures. “It’s complicated…” You let out a huff, not knowing how to explain it to him. Not even knowing where to start. “It’s grown-up stuff, okay? Just - just watch your movie.”

You stacked the photos back into the envelope, and you hoped that Sebastian wouldn’t follow you as you raced down the hall toward Spencer. You weren’t surprised to find the bathroom door closed.

“Spence,” You called out his name as you knocked gently on the bathroom door.

That gutted him even more. Spence.

Another harsh reminder of the life he had lost.

“I’m sorry.” He called back, his voice audibly drenched in tears.

Your throat tightened up.

This began to shift your entire axis. The man you had left standing alone that night - you thought he was a man who would have never cared about your son. Someone who would have asked you to get an abortion or distanced himself from the pregnancy as much as possible.

But this man - this felt like the Spencer you knew, the one you fell in love with.

He cared so much.

This was someone who could fit into your life, someone who could help raise your son.

And tugging right at your heart, something you wanted to deny - this was a man you wanted to be your husband, as well as the father of your child.

“Spencer, please-”

Spencer opened the door then, and upon instinct, you drew back, wrapping your arms tightly around yourself. Unconsciously, you were protecting yourself.

“I’m sorry.” He apologized again. “Did I scare him? I didn’t mean to.” He asked, looking behind your shoulder as if waiting for Sebastian to appear.

There it was again - prioritizing your son above all else. Worry for him.

Something you wouldn’t have expected. Something that forced you to shift your whole perspective.

“He’s fine.” You told him. “He - he probably just wants you to watch the movie with him.” You said, entirely honest, motioning toward the living room - where the sound of Sebastian’s cartoon movie could be heard playing from the television.

“I’ll be out in a minute.” Spencer noted, reaching for some toilet paper to wipe his eyes with.

You squeezed your hands tighter around your arms, resisting the urge to reach out and touch him. You wanted to wipe those tears away yourself. Spencer’s keen eye went right to this movement, and you felt so caught.

“I should go start dinner.” You said, eager for an excuse to escape the situation.

You whisked down the hall before Spencer could say anything else, and before his mind could linger too much on it - on you - his phone rang again.

It was a number he didn’t recognize, but he had to guess that it was one of the phones from the local police station - someone from the team calling with an update about the case.

“Reid here.” He answered, deeply hoping that he didn’t sound too tearful over the phone.

“Do you like pretending, Doctor Reid?”

That certainly wasn’t a voice he recognized.

“Excuse me?” Spencer squeaked back, having no clue what this meant.

“Do you like playing house, Doctor Reid?”

The person on the other end posed a slightly different question. The voice was sharp and certain, completely devoid of genuine emotion. It caused a chill down Spencer’s spine, and he knew, somehow-

The UnSub had gotten a hold of his phone number, and felt the need to taunt him by getting in contact with him.

“Unlike you, I’m not playing.” Spencer growled in return, already having the profile in his pocket. “I don’t need to play house to fulfill some God complex. I fully intend to spend the rest of my life being there for my son, raising him. And as long as I am here, in this house, no harm will come to my son or the woman who raised him.”

“Hmm…” The man seemed entirely bored with Spencer’s words. “The woman who raised him. Such a funny way to talk about that whore you supposedly once loved. But she did such a good job raising the boy, didn’t she? Seems like she didn’t even need you in the picture, did she? Such a sweet little thing… anybody could just waltz right into that house, slit her throat and take him. He’s smart enough to do well on his own now.”

Spencer knew that it was a tactic intended to get to him, and he shouldn’t have let it emotionally affect him as much as it did - but fuck, it got to him.

“Don’t talk about her that way.” He growled into the phone. “Don’t talk about them, that way, I swear to god, I’ll-”

“You’ll do what, Doctor Reid?” The man cut him off, clearly mocking him. Clearly in disbelief that Spencer could ever truly be violent in response to his family being threatened.

Spencer choked on a breath, trying to compose himself.

“Now, now. Simmer now.” The man cooed, still mocking, entirely condescending. “And don’t you worry, Doctor. Every whore gets her time to be an angel. I’m sure that she’s going to look so beautiful when she’s moaning and writhing in pain while my knife plunges into her guts. Don’t worry, Daddy - I’ll treat her as gently as I can.”

Spencer sucked in a breath, preparing to yell at the man, but then - the line went dead with a sharp ‘click’. Spencer pulled back his phone and looked at the display - he memorized the number so that he could give it to Garcia later, and then, he called JJ.

“Reid, hey.”

She sounded worried.

Any rage pumping through him that the unknown man had triggered in him melted away, and he immediately wondered why JJ had taken on that sad, sullen tone.

Before he could ask, she spoke up again.

“We… were just wondering if we should call you.”

“What’s wrong?” He asked.

“The UnSub knows you’re in the house.” She announced, ripping the band-aid off all at once.

Spencer wondered again how this was possible. But he figured that it was better to exchange information and let the questions naturally arise than to ask the questions himself.

“Yeah, he just called me.” He told JJ. “Clearly with the intention to antagonize me.”

“Wait, hold on.” JJ sighed. In the police station, she walked into the conference room where the team was working and put her phone on speaker for the room before she spoke to Spencer again. “Tell them what you just told me.”

“Someone who I can only assume was the UnSub just called me.” Spencer explained. “It was very clear that he was trying to antagonize me. He - he seemed jealous that I’m here - that I’m trying to take his place as father in the household before he could get here.”

“What makes you say that?” Hotch asked.

“He claimed that I was ‘playing pretend’. He called me Daddy. He mocked my love for Y/N, and taunted me with the idea of him… potentially killing her.” Spencer found those last words particularly difficult to speak, but he knew that the team needed all the information at hand.

“Let me guess, he called you from a blocked number?” Prentiss wondered aloud.

“No, actually.” Spencer replied. “Do you have a pen? I can give you the number and you can have Garcia run it.”

“Fire away.” Prentiss replied.

“503-202-1052.” Spencer told her.

“I’ll call Garcia now.” She said - on the other end, getting up from the table to call Garcia on her cell.

“JJ said you guys have something too?” Spencer asked, still wondering what JJ had meant.

“The scumbag sent us a letter.” Morgan answered. “The envelope was full of pictures. A bunch of pictures of your girl and the kid from weeks back - them at the park, at restaurants, at the grocery store. He’s way farther ahead in his timeline than we thought he was.”

“Yeah, and there’s… something else.” Rossi sighed. “He also included pictures of you and JJ standing on the porch when you arrived at the house. And one of you coming back to the house later, by yourself. In one of them… he crossed your eyes out with a red marker. It’s clear that he sees you as competition. A clear threat to his fantasy.”

“But - how does he know that I’m Sebastian’s real father?” Spencer wondered aloud.

“Perhaps he only sees you as competition because you’re another male encroaching on his territory. Because you’ve spent prolonged time at the house, seemingly to protect her and the child.” Hotch theorized.

“No…” Spencer said, putting the pieces together in his. “On the call, he said: ‘Such a funny way to talk about that whore you supposedly once loved.’” Spencer repeated it perfectly from memory, feeling a pang in his chest at calling you a ‘whore’, even if it wasn’t his own wording. “It was like he knew that me and Y/N dated before and broke up. Like he knows that Sebastian is a result of our previous relationship.”

“That is… strange.” Rossi remarked. “Do you think that Y/N might have mentioned your relationship to a friend, or a neighbor? Maybe… she might have confided in somebody?”

“It’s possible.” Spencer sighed. “But since she’s moved here, she’s surrounded herself with women. A female babysitter, fellow moms as her friend group.” It was something he had noticed in the more recent photos of Sebastian. “Our UnSub is a man - I don’t see her divulging those types of things to him, even if she didn’t know he was a potential threat.”

“Well either way, he knows. And he’s pissed off.” Morgan sighed. “I mean, the wording of this letter… it makes sense why he seems so hostile toward Reid. It’s not just anger toward a random man who’s encroaching on his territory - it’s a personal rage towards someone he feels could actually ruin his chances with Y/N if he’s built up this fantasy of having her in his mind over these weeks.”

Morgan picked up the letter and read some lines from it. “‘I will stab him in the spine, paralyzing him and forcing him to watch as I rape that whore - I will take her as my own while he pleads for mercy. I will show him what happens when weak men abandon their obligations. If Daddy wants to play, I’ll play too.’”

“Is that really what he thinks?” Spencer huffed, unable to hold back his emotions. “That I abandoned my obligations? Does he really think that-?”

“Reid.” Hotch said firmly, cutting off Spencer’s ranting. “Stay calm. What we really need to ask ourselves now is: how does he know so much about you? How does he know so much about your past that even we didn’t know?”

He added this on - seemingly taking offense to the fact that most of the team didn’t know that Spencer had a serious girlfriend in the past. A relationship that had resulted in a child.

Just then, Emily came back into the room.

“Garcia said the phone number goes to a public library on the other side of town.” She announced.

“Morgan, you and Prentiss go to the library - see if anyone there saw the UnSub or if they have any potential security footage of him.” Hotch ordered.

“Reid, see if you can convince Y/N to come into protective custody.” Hotch added on, turning his attention to the man on the phone. “With the UnSub being further along in his timeline than we thought, and seemingly being provoked by your presence, we really need to protect her and her child. Stress that fact to her. We need to keep a close eye on her until we can find a viable suspect.”

“Yes, of course.” Spencer replied, before ending the call.

Spencer splashed some cold water on his face, truly trying to pull himself together before he exited the bathroom.

It truly hit him, then.

This day wasn’t about some soft, sappy reunion with you and his son. This day was about the fact that you had been targeted by a dangerous, deranged killer. And he needed to do everything in his power to protect you from that horrible man.

A fresh, vicious wave of determination went through him - if he had to tear out the man’s throat with his teeth, then he would. He wasn’t going to let even the tiniest amount of harm come to you or his boy. Not today, not tomorrow, not ever.

He put on a smile, not wanting to potentially scare Sebastian with a frown or his trembling fear over what might happen. He tried his hardest to push all of it out of his mind for now as he walked down the hallway and back into the living room - where a musical cartoonish number was in full swing on the TV.

“You were in the bathroom for a long time!” Sebastian commented brightly. “Did you have to go poop?”

Spencer let out a laugh at this. This almost instantly lifted his mood - the fact that such a young kid didn’t have the sense of embarrassment or social constructs in order to know that it wasn’t really routine to ask someone what they had been doing in the bathroom. He easily found humor in Sebastian’s bluntness.

“Seb, what did we say about asking people about their poop?” You called out from the kitchen, clearly having heard the conversation.

(So this was a habit of his?)

“Sorry!” Sebastian called back. Sebastian then turned back to Spencer. “Your poop is only your business. Unless you have to tell the doctor about your poops.” He assured Spencer, clearly repeating something that his mother had told him.

Spencer nodded. “It’s all good, bud.” He said, smiling at Sebastian. “I’m gonna go talk to your mom, okay?”

“Are you gonna watch the movie with me?” Sebastian asked.

“I promise, I’ll watch whatever you want to later.” Spencer replied.

He made it a promise because he wanted to hold himself to it - he wanted to spend lots of days watching films with his son. And playing games, and teaching him things. He promised himself that there would be lots of time to do these things with Sebastian in the future because nobody would interrupt that for him.

But for now, he had to convince you to agree to protective custody so that the three of you could have the safety and security of a future together.

Sebastian seemed content with this answer and turned back to the TV, and Spencer ventured into the kitchen, where you were preparing dinner.

“Hey, Spence.” You greeted him gently. “I’m assuming that you’re staying for dinner? It’s nothing fancy, just some pasta with cream sauce, and chicken and broccoli.” You explained, gesturing around to the many items you had surrounding you - a pot of boiling water, and cutting boards with different vegetables, and one sequestered off in the corner with cut-up chicken pieces waiting to be put in a frying pan that was still heating up.

“Sounds good.” He easily agreed. “After dinner, we need to pack a bag for Sebastian, and you need to get some stuff together so that we can get you guys into protective custody.” He said, posing it more like a gentle suggestion than a question that you could say no to.

He truly hoped that he wouldn’t have to go into the graphic details as to why you needed the protection - why it was more urgent now. He hoped that he wouldn’t have to resort to telling you about the man who had threatened to go poking around in your insides with a knife while making him watch.

Not surprisingly, you completely ignored what Spencer said.

“Unless you prefer Turtle Mac n Cheese?” You said, instantly deflecting away from the topic, holding up a box of mac n cheese that had some cartoonish characters on it. They were green and looked vaguely like anthropomorphic turtles. Spencer guessed that this was what you were making for Sebastian’s dinner - most likely along with having him eat some broccoli, because you seemed determined for him to at least somewhat eat healthy. “I think that cartoon shapes really give it that extra gourmet flare.”

“Stop that.” Spencer demanded gently, taking the box out of your hands and placing it somewhere else on the counter. You frowned at him. “Stop acting like what’s happening isn’t a big deal. If you’re doing this because you’re frightened-”

“I’m not frightened.” You said, cutting him off. “I just don’t think that the FBI needs to be wasting resources on me when there’s people out there who are actually in danger. Or people who have dead loved ones who need answers.”

“Exactly.” Spencer pressed. He lowered his voice before he spoke his next words, though he knew it was unlikely that Sebastian would hear him over the movie playing on the TV.

“The man who sent you those flowers has already killed five other women.” He stressed, pointing behind you, toward the vase with the white carnations in it. He was surprised that you hadn’t thrown the flowers away after what he and JJ had told you. “Five women’s families are waiting for answers about who killed them. And you could be helping us-”

“I can’t help you, though.” You shrugged. “There are no men in my life. There’s nobody Spencer. There hasn’t been since I broke up with you.” You snapped, giving him a harsh glare - as though you resented him for ruining you, tainting your heart and leaving you broken.

The realization shattered him a bit more. All this time, he had been worried that you had moved on, that you were living a better life without him. But you had been just as lonely as he was - aside from the company of a small child that reminded you more and more of Spencer every single day.

Spencer took a breath, trying to focus.

“Just come into protection.” He pressed. “The FBI will take you to a safehouse, and-”

“A safehouse?” You scoffed. “How is that any safer than the house we’re currently standing in? Does it have bulletproof windows and a steel reinforced door? Or - or is it just a regular house with regular windows, and regular walls, and a regular door? Just like my house?” You chuckled sarcastically, moving to grab the cutting board with the chicken, shoving it into the now heated pan with the back of your knife.

Spencer’s nerves were grated on by your sarcasm.

“Dammit, Y/N!” He shouted, much louder than he intended to. “Can’t you see that I’m just trying to protect you?”

“Yeah, and where the hell was that attitude four years ago when I begged you to-” You swiftly cut yourself off, the words dying off in your throat, not wanting to rip open old wounds.

You tossed the items back onto the counter with a crash, only causing more tension in the air. You took in a sharp breath - suddenly, standing in front of the stove, you felt too hot.

You reached for the edge of your hoodie without thinking, and peeled it up over your head. You were wearing a thin camisole underneath, but surprisingly, your black bra being so visible through the thin white fabric wasn’t the thing that caught Spencer’s eyes as more and more of you was revealed.

There it was.

The four-pointed star necklace that he had given to you on your birthday was sitting in the middle of your chest, right where it belonged, glaring at Spencer, taunting him.

It became apparent to him in seconds that you had been wearing it all day. You had answered the door earlier that day wearing that pale blue hoodie, having no clue that Spencer would be on the other side. You had no reason to impress him, quite angered that he was even there in the first place, actually. So you had been wearing it under your hoodie since before then - since the beginning of the day, likely.

You had been holding it close to your chest as something precious - hiding it under your clothes as a secret, just for yourself.

If there was a single shred of doubt in Spencer’s mind that he had loved you more, that he had missed you more since the break-up, it was gone now. You hadn’t dated other men, and you had silently carried that symbol of him, as if unconsciously beaconing him back to you.

When you finally got the fabric off your head, you instantly noticed him gaped-jawed and staring at your chest. You wouldn’t have called him a pervert, because before you even glanced down to confirm that you had the necklace on - you knew. A terrible guilt struck through your gut, like you had been caught stealing something, and you froze up on the spot.

You and Spencer locked eyes for a moment, and his hands quivered with the terrible need to reach out and touch you - though in that moment, standing just across the kitchen from you, he felt a thousand miles away. He had a terrible need to hold you, yet he had never felt more distant from you. He had never felt more prohibited from touching you since the moment you had first grabbed his hand on that very first date.

How long had you wanted him back and said nothing? How many days had you woken up thinking about him, knowingly raised his son alone, and made no effort to contact him?

“I - I have to go change my clothes.” You said, your voice so utterly small. “Can you watch the stove?”

You didn’t wait for a reply before you turned and whisked off again, clearly too eager to escape the tension.

Spencer busied himself with watching over the food - stirring here and there, and starting the cartoon turtle mac and cheese based on its boxed instructions - trying desperately not to think about what all this meant.

When you came back, you were wearing a simple, light tee shirt. And it was easy to see that you had taken off the necklace and put it away somewhere.

…

Having Spencer there for dinner felt like role-playing as a family.

With Sebastian in his usual seat behind the dinosaur placemat, sitting between the two of you - it felt like something out of a strange, distant dream. He kept looking to Spencer for encouragement when he ate his broccoli and didn’t spill his juice, and Spencer stared at you across the table, having that constant fond look in his eye whenever he turned back to Sebastian or talked to him in that sweet, soothing voice.

Spencer also watched you, and tried to make it seem subtle. You noticed his eyes drifting over to your plate, ensuring that you were eating, as he had done many times before. You wanted to make another snarky comment about him pretending to care, but you kept your mouth shut.

It felt so shallow, and plastic, with the supposed threat hanging over your head; knowing that the only reason Spencer was there in the first place was because he believed that you were in danger.

Yet, it felt like something you had been doing all your life. It felt like just another night. Like Spencer had come home from work to this a thousand times; like you would get up and do the dishes and kiss him and then bring him to your bed for the night. It felt like that’s how things should be.

You really weren’t sure if you loved it or hated it.

You were nearly finished with your food and Spencer’s dinner was half-done, food getting cold on his plate while he encouraged Sebastian to finish up - when there was a knock on the door.

You expected it to be JJ again, pressing you about the protective custody thing. You let out a harsh sigh when Sebastian quickly wormed out of his chair and raced toward the door - eager to answer it himself.

“Seb!” You called after him. “What have I told you about answering the door when Mommy isn’t there?”

You raced after him and uncomfortably grabbed him up with a gut full of food, Spencer trailing behind you awkwardly.

“You’re here now!” Sebastian argued, laughter in his voice.

“Here, go with your-”

You abruptly cut yourself off, stopping yourself from saying ‘go with your dad’.

“Go back to the table with Spencer.” You told him, turning him around and directing him toward the man. You couldn’t bear to look him in the eyes, knowing that he could predict exactly what that verbal near-slip was. “I will answer the door.”

“Come on, bud.” Spencer encouraged him. “If you finish up all your dinner, we can have a treat later,”

He hated to promise something you hadn’t permissed, but he knew that you needed the distraction right now.

You unlocked the door and opened it, fully expecting JJ to be standing there patiently (likely having heard that entire exchange from behind the door). You were surprised when nobody was there, and instead, your eyes drifted downwards to a large brown envelope sitting on the step.

It didn’t seem to have any kind of shipping label on it - just your first name written on the front in bright red ink. It made you startlingly curious, at the same time, caused a tight knot to form in your gut. You picked it up, bringing it inside before you closed the door and locked it again.

You brought it back to the kitchen and placed it on the kitchen island, and of course, this caught Spencer’s attention where he could see you from his place at the table.

“Y/N, what is that?” He asked, unable to mask the frantic worry popping up in his voice.

“I don’t know.” You said, feeling slightly haunted by it yourself.

You moved to open the envelope, and before Spencer could stop you, something echoing in the back of his mind - chirps about potential poison or even a bomb - you had ripped it open and spilled the contents onto the counter.

Your insides quaked when you saw what it was.

Spencer rushed over to look at the items with you, and naturally, this drew Sebastian’s attention as well.

“What is it, Mommy?” He asked, marching over and trying to get a peek over the edge of the counter, but not yet tall enough to see - which you were thankful for.

“Did you finish all your dinner?” You asked, leaning over to look at him.

“I did!” He said proudly, nodding.

“Okay, then, why don’t you go into the pantry and pick a cookie?” You said, hoping that your sudden flood of worry and fear didn’t quake through your voice as you forced a smile for him.

“Okay!” He cheered brightly.

He ran off to the large cupboard beside the kitchen table, eager to pick between the varieties of cookies that you had there.

(Again, he was smart - but easily distracted. That you were thankful for.)

“Y/N-” Spencer gasped when he saw the items that had come out of the envelope.

“I don’t wanna hear it.” You said, your voice now quivering with tears you found yourself unable to hold back. “I don’t wanna hear about how you were right.”

You stared down at the items in horror.

It was several photos of you; very voyeuristic shots of you going about your daily life. Several of them including Sebastian when you had been doing perfectly innocent things - going shopping, playing at the park. Even pictures of the two of you playing in your own backyard. A view of you getting dressed through your bedroom window.

One of the photos - a photo of nothing more than the front door to your home - had a message scribbled across it in bright red marker.

‘Daddy misses you. Be home soon. xoxo’

“That’s not what I was going to say.” Spencer sighed.

He saw how horribly you were shaking - he saw the tears brimming your eyes. This time, he truly couldn’t help himself. He stepped around the counter, and upon instinct, he swept you into a tight hug.

Unconsciously, he caged you away from any potential danger with his arms around your shoulders - holding you like he would have when you had a nightmare or when you shied away from men you considered ‘creepy’ on the subway. Your arms wrapped tightly around his waist, your fingers digging into his back for comfort, clinging to him like you would have clung to a life raft at sea.

You broke into sobs, the sound muffled by his chest, and Spencer’s own heart stung - knowing that the true depth of the danger had finally hit you.

“It’s okay.” He told you. “It’s gonna be okay.”

He rubbed a flat palm across your back, hoping to comfort you in some way, even though he knew that the terror of the whole situation was mounting - and it was a horrible thing to face.

“Spencer-” You sobbed out, unsure what you even wanted to say.

“I’m going to make sure it’s okay.” He said firmly. “You know I won’t let anyone hurt you, right?”

It wasn’t even a question in your mind. The two of you had your problems back in the day, but you knew that Spencer would never let any harm come to you.

You clung tighter to him, savoring the moments while Sebastian was still distracted - likely sneaking more than the singular cookie you had allotted him to have, not that you cared in the slightest right now.

If there was anything else on your mind aside from the potentially crippling fear as the realization truly hit you, any room past the fact that you had been stalked and secretly surveilled by a murderer for weeks now; then you might have considered the fact that when you had woken up this morning, you never would have never thought that Spencer Reid, of all people, would be such a comforting touch to you.

Oh, how things change.

…

Spencer was hesitant to let you go from the hug.

But he had to call the team, because this was an important break in the case. And he had to see what kinds of arrangements they could make for you - if they could find a safehouse for you on such short notice, or if he would be taking you to the field office or the police station.

You cleaned the cookie crumbs off Sebastian and took him to the living room, trying to maintain some sense of calm while you turned on a random cartoon show on cable. He got out a puzzle and you helped him with it while Spencer stepped into the other room and dialed Morgan’s number.

“Hey, Reid.” Morgan greeted him. “How’s married life treating you?”

“Not funny.” Spencer replied, his voice short and frustrated. “The UnSub just delivered another package here. More photos. And a message. ‘Be home soon’. It’s pretty clear that he’s planning on making his move soon.”

“Woah.” Morgan replied. “Well, if Y/N didn’t want protective custody before, then I’m assuming that scared her into complying.”

“Yeah.” Reid agreed. “Where should I bring her?”

“Hold on.”

There were some voices clustered on the other end, and then, the next person to speak on the phone was Hotch.

“Reid… you’re not going to like what I have to say.”

“What is it?” Spencer prodded.

“Morgan and Prentiss got nothing at the library. So far, the only thing we’ve got on this UnSub is the fact that Y/N is likely his next victim, and he doesn’t seem eager to break pattern just because you’re in the house.”

Spencer didn’t like where this was going.

“You’re not insisting-?” He asked, and Hotch filled in the blank for him.

“Our only chance to catch him could be… catching him in the act. We could tie him to the other crimes if we catch him breaking into the house-”

“The house that my son is currently in.” Spencer huffed.

“We could bring the boy into protective custody. And leave Y/N there. We know that he never hurts the children, that’s not part of his MO.” Hotch offered meekly.

“But he gets some kind of catharsis from playing house.” Spencer replied. “If we move Sebastian, that might cause him to break pattern, and he could just move onto another victim.”

Then, something else occurred to Spencer.

“Also, we don’t know how he’s surveilling us.” He added on. “If he sees where we’re moving Sebastian, he might go after him.”

He considered that another woman - someone completely unsuspecting, someone unprepared, someone innocent with no way to defend herself - would be killed if Spencer made the wrong choice. It could be more than one woman if the UnSub got away and simply continued his patterns uninterrupted.

This was more controlled. The UnSub seemed determined to confront Spencer.

Spencer felt that was a confrontation he could win.

“We can have unmarked cars posted on every block. And the minute he breaches the house, you call it in. He won’t get anywhere near them.”

Spencer hated that it was their only choice.

“Okay.”

...

Keep reading here: Chapter Five - Brick By Boring Brick

#sundrop writes #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #spencer reid x reader #dad!spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you

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lovifie · 2 months

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Hi this is my first ever request lol, so I uh was wondering if you could write a soap x reader little red riding hood. It could be some cute fluff or I guess even smutty depending on how you'd want to depict it. Sorry if it's a rather blank request, I'm very bland when it comes to writing and such (>_<)

Hi love! Thank you so much for the request, I hope I met your expectations 🩷

It did turn really smutty though, so I hope you don't mind 🩷

Back to Masterlist

W: Werewolf!Soap x Little Red Riding Hood!Reader (inspired at least), smut, defined breeding kink must it's mostly a werewolf thing, biting, mentions of pregnancy (is the breeding kink warm up, you know), knoting.

You were used to being the one taking your grandma her food, making sure she still ate the produce she couldn't acquire in her house deep into the forest.

So every other week, you would do your little journey. It didn't take long, you'll get to her house before lunch time and you chose to stay the day with her before making your way back.

You already knew the path like the back of your hand, always on time and never getting lost.

There is also Johnny, a friendly neighbour who on many occasions chooses to walk along with you. The chat is nice, makes the walk more entertaining even when you go the different route that Johnny showed you; just because it is longer and that way you can talk for longer.

You obviously didn't trust him at first, a grown man in the middle of the forest sounds terrifying on its own. And you need to add to that the fact that Johnny is built like a brick house.

“I could have you for dinner.” He joked once when you asked him what did he ate to be so big. A silly joke.

The fear of the big man following you in the forest, quickly turned into the big man walking with you. And the little fear you had of the wild dissipated the closer he walked with you.

Especially, when during the spring rumours started flying around about a massive wolf living in the forest. Apparently a huge striped dog has been seen walking on the forest line for a couple of weeks now, always looking into the town but never quite entering.

The dog, big enough to be the size of a grown man on his hinged legs, eyes that reflect the light of the fire and teeth to rip the flesh off the bone.

Your grandma moved out of her house, moving inside town to be away from the animal. Still, you couldn't sleep at night knowing Johnny was out there.

With your grandma living in your house, you didn't have an excuse to walk in the forest. But still, on a freezing morning in the middle of spring you found yourself walking inside the forest wishing you could come across Johnny quickly and be back home.

What you come across instead, is a growling behind you. So deep you feel it shaking your bones before you can see it. You only need to see the outline of the monster before you are sprinting for your life, it is a stupid decision and you know it. It immediately triggers the beast to follow you.

The path to your grandma's house has never been so long and you don't even make half way through before you fall, tripping on your own feet. You turn around, looking for the dog which seems to have evaporated into thin air.

A warm hand on your back makes you jump, turning around and coming face to face with Johnny, a pained expression on his face. You jump into his arms, a groan into your ear as he hugs you back, a bit too hard.

You peel back when he cups your face. “You shouldn't be here, bonnie.” He says, looking in pain, making every alarm bell ring on your head.

You pat his body, looking for any injury and hearing him groan whenever your hand touches his body. “Are you in pain? Did it attack you? Are you fine?” You ask frantically.

“Lass!” He grunts, making you look into his eyes, dark when you lay your eyes on his. “You need to get back! Get away from me!”

“But why?” You ask, hurt with the rejection. “I came here just for you, Johnny…”

He groans, looking away from your face as he licks his lips. He sighs, resting his forehead against yours. “You need to go back because every part of my body is screaming at me to eat you whole, bonnie.”

“You can.” It comes out before you can register it, you are not a stranger to your own feelings for the man in front of you. The weekly walks, your hand on his arm, his hand on your back, the soft pecks on your cheek when saying goodbye. It quickly had you getting home warm on the face and your tummy.

The man groans again, closing his eyes, as if your words hurt him. “You don't know what you are saying-”

“I do! I do know!” You argue, cutting him off and sitting up closer to him but his arms pull you back. He looks down on you, searching for any doubt in your face. Anything that could silence the hungry voice in his brain, but when the only thing he can find is the same hunger in yours he laps forward, crushing his lips on yours.

He is not gentle by any means, his wide hands roam your body pulling you closer, grabbing your body, winking his nails into your flush meat, biting your lips, growling on your mouth. His hands scrunch up your dress, ripping the bloomers under it making you gasp at the feeling of the cold air on your core.

“I can fucking smell you, bonnie. And it's driving me mad. You have been driving me mad for months.” He grunts against your mouth, grabbing your hips to sit you on top of his.

You whine at his words. “I want to feel you, Johnny. I want to feel you here.” You say, grabbing one of his hands to place it on top of your crying cunt.

Johnny takes a deep breath, regulating himself, before he sinks two of his fingers inside of you; the stretch making you mewl against Johnny's neck, moaning softly as he starts to move his wrist.

You can feel him grind his hips against your, the material of his trousers rubbing against your exposed clit making you whine and he quickly shushes you kissing your temple as his fingers open you up for him.

“I can't wait to sink into you, my sweet bonnie.” He groans at you, making you clench at the sound.

He pulls his fingers out, bringing them to his mouth and licking them clean, closing his eyes as he hums at the taste. His pupils impossibly wide when he opens them again, the blue on his eyes barely visible.

He helps you onto your hand and knees, standing behind you as he licks your neck from behind, his tip probing at your entrance. You don't have a chance to peek at his shaft, so you don't expect the wide stretch that just simply seems to never end.

Never in your life has you felt this full, the stretch of his fingers far from enough and it has you falling face first with his hands on your hips.

He grunts when he bottoms out inside of you, bending down to lick the tears on your cheeks. “Shh, bonnie lass. You are taking me so well, I could live right here. So tight, so warm, so wet “ he moans, pulling his hips slightly back making you whine as you clench down making him grunt.

It's too much, it is reaching places you were not aware existed; his wide hands on your hips keeping you in place, it has your brain mushy barely able to put your hands under your face to prevent yourself from eating dirt.

His thrust starts to get deeper, slowly pulling out until only his tip is inside just to push in again just as deliciously slow as the first one. It is torturous how slow he fills you up, the empty feeling when he pulls back making you whine and move your hips back.

He pulls himself back, not wanting to give in to his instincts just yet, needing to know you are ready. The way your cunts sucks him in whenever he pulls back making him grunt; he hears you moan his name, asking for more, and that is everything he needs to hear.

He bends down, hugging your middle as he shoves his face on your neck, keeping you in place to be able to piston his dick in and out of your weeping cunt as fast as his hips allow him.

It pulls the breath out of your lungs, only able to moan loud like a whore as the man on your back fucks you like a bitch in heat.

His arms are tight around your body, his grunts and groans loud on your ear and when his hand moves lower, right over your clit rubbing it, is like pushing the button to have you coming undone.

You cry out his name, eyes rolling back as you do, your cunt pulsing around his cock making him fuck you faster.

You don't have time to come back down, not stopping pleasure waving over you. Filth being talked into your brain. “I'm gonna fuck you full of my pups, love. Gonna keep you forever, full of me, love. Gonna make you a mama, round and plush.” He groans, his brain empty of any sense and only listening to his instincts of breeding, the spring making him completely lose his ability to think clearly.

Another round of stretch has you whining softly, you are already to the brim what is it now? You cry at the feeling, Johnny mouth opening over the junction of your neck and shoulder.

His thrust became sloppy, more shallow as if he couldn't move as freely. He bites down hard on your shoulder, making you whine at the pain but the way you clench down on his length as he grunting as he comes inside of you, his hips flush with yours.

You moan at the feeling, warmth feeling every bit of your inside. But after a while you try to pull, wanting to lay down. Just for a stinging sensation to make you cry and Johnny to grab your hips to prevent you from moving.

“Let's stay like this for a little, bonnie. We stuck.” He groans, as if it makes perfect sense.

“What?” You ask confused.

“Shh, I'll explain it to you later, love.” He says, licking your neck like a dog and caressing your body.

And you want to argue, to understand what he means, to understand what is inside of you opening you so widely, to understand why he was talking about pups, to understand why he bite your shoulder so hard, to understand why the wolf following you suddenly disappeared when he appeared, to understand why he told you to go away, to understand how he found you so easily.

But your eyelids start to weigh tons when Johnny hums behind you, kissing your neck. Plus, the spring is barely starting and Johnny's den is close by. He'll explain later, when his brain stops screaming at him to keep breeding you.

If you liked it please drop a comment or a reblog, it really helps me to want to write more 🩷

TagList: @thatonepupkai @glocuseguardian3rd @darkangel4121 @risingofjupiter @spadekip @herefor-tojis-tits @lunari0 @dukeofjjune @soupinasock @marymustdie @arbesa-mind @cmbghost @multifandomheathenannie @emotion-no-hot-yes-hotel-trivago @tooloudarts @panikk-attackkk @reap3erslov3 @mothsdrabbles @ghosts-hoe @cassiecasluciluce @sleepdeprivedkat @lunamoonbby @hatterripper31 @lolly145 @contractedcriteria @vxnilla-hxrddrugs @cod-z @jaguarthecat @savagemickey03 @fraserbraw @justyourfriendlyneighbourhood1 @rosiehale23 @keiva1000 @sw33tsnow @viisgrave @theloneshadow24 @crinoid90 @loveandplanet @sobbingnshtting @emat-05 @dprmoon @simpsallthetime1997 @ladyxtiger @soapsmohawk-16 @nina6708 @katreintjie @sacvh @thevoidwriting @sklt987659 @kayden666 @dumb12bvtch1212 @salsamander

@whos-fran

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archivesainz · 4 months

Text

he hit me but felt like a kiss. 🕊 ˚✧ ₊˚ cs55

. . . Carlos likes to take care of young women like you !

genre: dark carlos, smoking, age gap (10 years), smut, sexual tension, oral (f!receiving), degrading, the use of 'slut' and another’s, penetrative sex (p in v), choking, daddy kink, creampie, cheating (not with carlos x reader) and i can’t think more.

pairing: carlos sainz x reader.

a/n: I think this is a good way to start the account, asks, comments and likes are always welcome. english is NOT my first language, google translate.

I'M SORRY FOR WAITING ALL THIS TIME! I hope you all like it, happy new year!

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The waves of the beach were calming, you could already see the sun rise and its orange colours appear in the middle of the whitish sky. You did this a few times, when life disappointed you and you had to put up with it; you looked at your cell phone and the time marked '5:55', you laughed remembering the signs about looking at the “angel’s numbers”.

You get up, walking to your house that was not far away and try to enter without making noise, going up to your room and sinking into your bed to sleep a few hours before college.

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You met him in a bar, he bought you a drink and you talked. On the dance floor he glued his body to yours and danced until you accepted the invitation to go to his house.

Now you're getting into his fancy and stuck car, and he's taking you home.

His icy hands came into contact with yours hot thigh, a junction of ice and fire, you felt anxious not only to be going to the house of a guy you met an hour ago, but also to the fact that your hand seems to rise more and more. You wanted to, but you wouldn't say, he also wanted and wouldn't say so he decides to start his game, you confess to yourself that choosing a skirt was a good choice, easy access and no winding. But no, he liked to get the most out of you, instigate you until you were begging him to stop, you didn't ask his age but assumed that he was over 20 years old. You laugh to yourself because you're going to fuck an older guy.

"Sorry to ask... how old are you?" You say it in such a soft voice that it makes it squeeze in the car seat.

"Thirty-two... why the question? Don't you like older guys?" He says, sarcastic with his elbow resting on the car door.

10 years. 10 years of difference between you, that's not bad, right?

"I like it, I love learning new things with experienced people."

He smiles on his side, lightly squeezing your thigh and slowly sneaking into your wet core. You sigh strongly, you are sure he heard and must be smiling while you close your eyes strongly the hand that was on your thighs disappears.

"Do you mind?" He says with a cigarette in his hand and a dark look.

You do it with no with your head and hear the noise of the lighter and the smell of the cigarette inhaling your nostrils. While he puts the hand that was the cigarette back on the steering wheel and touches its your core again, it is light and dirty his touches make you want more, want more from him and his body, he was driving you crazy.

You hold the door when he presses his fingers there, you let out a needy sigh and he smiles, you see that he stops the car and can see the dark house with lights that were mostly yellow he gets out of the car like a real rider opens the door for you and holds your hand to get out of the car.

"Welcome, princess." He speaks seriously as he walks with you to the entrance and throws the end of the cigarette in a nearby trash can.

His hands quickly go to your body when you enter his house, the begging and needy lips were filled with kisses with a taste of drink and cigarettes. His beard gently passed through your skin, and gave you shiver more and more as you went up to his room, his eyes did not leave your body, your skin, your curves and your ass.

You smile when he takes you in his lap and gently puts you on the bed, climbing on top of you and occasionally pressing your erection on your dressed pussy, involuntarily your hips push themselves up looking for more and you hear his low laugh.

"In a hurry, Cariño?" He asks, not taking his lips off your neck. "We have all the time in the world."

Carlos can't help it. He loses control, and passes the kisses to your lips again, and then to your still covered breasts. He's really attenuated by you. Your body is hot, and it looked like it was going to explode like a volcano.

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He grabbed your neck as if it were fucking nothing for him and saw you widen your eyes even more, your fingers looking for some way to undo that touch that took his breath away. After all, everything was still very young.

"You want to act like a whore as if you know what you're doing... But you don't know, my love, you don't know nothing." - Smiling with mockery he whispered against his little mouth and then went to attack his reddish and swollen lips from so many bites.

You moaned tearfully squeezing yours legs even more against the larger body, feeling the man suck your lip in a hungry and hot way; he was hot. Carlos kissed you as if life depended on that and feeling your mouth trying to accompany him left him on the edge of the abyss. If you were the prize at the end of the abyss he would certainly play headlong. Carlos grunted hoarsely as he sucked your tongue, feeling your taste mixed with the cherry of the gloss and it was to lose the reins, he could not be judged. The man then raised his hands around your waist to yours breasts again, squeezing the small mounds covered by the fabric.

His reaction was to grung soft in the middle of the kiss and squeeze his fingers in Carlos' straight and hydrated hair. You begged for everything that was more sacred that throbbing sensation between his legs would relieve the fastest. Carlos then left your lips with a slight suck on your bottom, listening to yours sly grunt and aiming at your eyes shining together with his pink cheeks.

"Take off these clothes for me, take them off... - He whispered hoarsely, breathing heavily as yours squeezed from your feet covered by your socks to yours thighs.

Promptly you obeyed, with those huge bright eyes so reduced before that man between your legs. You took off your clothes burning in horniness and shyness, he already felt Carlos' property and this feeling was indescribably delicious. You exposed yours sumped tits to him and saw him almost salivate, and like a wolf he advanced. The right arm took her by the waist hard, pulling against her big and stiff body, making you feel all the hot erection inside the social pants. She sighed loudly with the grip and can't help but moan when he started a surreal suction on her skin, sucking as if it were the best candy in the world.

"Oh- my god... Fuck.. So good..."

You begged with your virginal aura so strong, shaking against it while he felt him trim it easily, firmly in one arm only, sucking and sucking on your chest as if it were vital to him and maybe it really was. His whining made him disturbed, crazy, completely out of his mind and could eat you right there. Actually, he couldn't, but he wanted to. Fuck the rest, he would go.

Carlos could be patient after all, he was just tasting as much as he could, making the most of your beautiful naivety and this was like an impulse directly on his hardened and painful cock, there so trapped under tissues.

"My beautiful doll... It's so nice to suck on these beautiful tits of yours..". Whispered between one snap and another with his feedings, where Carlos knew well what to do to leave you at the apex of hypersensitivity.

He smiled like the scoundrel he was and looked at you as he dropped his sore chest in one last suck or almost bite. He removed your lip between your teeth with his thumb and advanced with his tongue in your little mouth, kissing and stimulating you to the almost apex. You felt his sighs and breaths, losing your little head with every rude touch of it.

You was completely lost, Carlos was sure you were dripping, and he could confirm by putting his hand between the fabric of those panties, right in your center feeling your pussy completely hot and totally soaked. Holding on his shoulder, he grunted aiming at the act, yours red cheeks denounced your lack of imminent experience and that was the end of it.

He was so fucking big. You lost your breath with the man's firm hands removing everything that covered your body, dropping it on your feet, feeling exposed and at such a disadvantage when he was fully dressed. Your mouth salivated and your cheeks pinched when he saw the tent formed on Carlos' pants and wondered if it hurt as much as it did.

You took the liberty of touching there, insinuating himself indirectly and even without knowing it squeezed the piece of meat, feeling the hardness and how hot and pulsating his cock could be. She swallowed and aimed at him from that position, smiling naughty and curious watching Carlos return his smile as he kissed your little mouth and grabbed your cheek once again.

"Slut... You're getting well trained. Is this what you want, hm? - The big hand landed on yours and squeezed the cock the way you liked it, while waiting for your answer. "Answer you shameless whore! - Roughly forced the touch on your cheek and saw you whine.

"Yes! Yes...yes... I need to...— you squeezed your legs to each other trying to placate that frustrating situation of your pussy and saw him laugh, laugh in complete debauchery and excitement. Carlos loved to see you as a doll that he could clog with cum, that was the truth.

"Daddy will do whatever you want and will put up with everything like a good girl."

Carlos squeezed his own member in his pants and ordered hoarsely; "On all fours, open it well and lifts up to me."

You didn't want to wait, so you promptly went up on the bed with red cheeks and loapy eyes, swallowing in dry when you were on all fours close to the edge of the bed, opening as you could your little legs, procing your tail well towards him. Your entrances totally exposed and melated. Dripping demonstrated the power of man over your body.

Carlos without wasting any more time, which was all they didn't have, opened his belt and saw you retract only with the noise, leaning on his little hands he guided you to support yours elbows arching your spine as much as possible with the palm of his hand there, opening your little legs as it should be, almost grunting when he saw you so open to him.

"Shhh.. this, that way, daddy will prove it to you first, and you won't keep your sounds for yourself, will you?" He whispered with a false condolence and almost deceived you, because his naivety was such that he came to believe in that asshole. "This beautiful little bitch... That..." He caressed your entire prancing back and saw you sigh nervously, anxious almost biting your own forearm and all he did was smile.

He smiled arrogantly before running his finger between your folds and feeling the humidity. "Shit... so wet for me." He whispered to himself that you almost didn't hear him, and sighed in need by the contact.

Without warning you felt his nose touch your moist mound and his mouth suck your sensitive clit, you moaned loudly and you are sure you felt you smile while sucking you. His tongue made smooth and slow movements, which made you delirious and ask for more.

It was the best pussy he had tasted in his life and he was addicted. Carlos was a rotten man. You no longer knew how to differentiate between your own moisture and his saliva, he was making a mess on you and you love it.

He spent time savoring your taste and widening you with both his fingers, preparing you for his cock. You felt your stomach tighten and the moans get stronger, until the sensations in your core stop.

He smiled scoundrel before fitting his swollen head against your recently deflowered little entrance, squeezing your cute hips he forced himself inside, without mercy he buried every thick and pulsating centimeter, gasping loudly with every tight and resistance that his warm interior gave him.

"Fuck... I'll destroy you and you'll ask for more."

He forced your hips well, at the right angle to destroy you and invade your most intimate corner and watched you growl tearfully, perhaps with hot tears in your little eyes and your hand trying to push him away every inch. The man's big hands wandered from your tense little legs to your waist and the curve was divine, his palm fit almost perfectly.

"That's a lot...! Carlos... Daddy!" - You begged him to practically growl and put everything inside.

It was so big and the position didn't help, but it was perfect for him. You completely felt how he stretched you from the inside.

"Holy shit... how small it is, princess... So tight, mi amor..." And he caught you like a damn dog, clinging to your beautiful little body hit your hips under him, the heavy balls were felt by you and your hand went up to his hair, taking everything out there. "Perfect for me..." kissed your sweaty shoulder.

How would you get away with that? You had no idea, You just wanted to be eaten. Fucked up. Ruined.

Carlos and you could feel his cock hitting directly on your stomach and it was a surreal thing the way it filled you and opened you like that. Stunning. Your bitch moans delivered everything.

"Tell me..." he took your hair off your little face again, even in that position because he had a free pass for his whole body, regardless of how he caught you. "You like to feel my dick here, don't you?" He stocked up and heard you practically scream, covering your mouth in order to control your volume he laughed nicely in your ear, giving you goosebumps. "Speak... Speak that you like it when daddy hits you right here... What's up, bitch..." He forced himself and pressed your limit, watching you cry and stay completely away, dumb, delivered, having to literally hold you.

"I like it..! I like it so much, Daddy!" You begged out of herself, possessed by the absurd pleasure she felt. "Please...!"

Carlos stocked you willingly, with strength and it was nice, the melty noises were possible to be heard every time he buried and came back just to mistreat you again a little more.

"Daddy is giving you what he asked for, princess... relax your pussy, hm?" It was a theater because he loved the tension and every time he drove you crazy and felt you squeeze it all in there; so warm and humid.

"Daddy..! Daddy, please... I feel... I..."

"Daddy.. I... I... my God!" You was coming and couldn't stand it, squirmed all over and squeezed Carlos as if he wanted to expel him from there because you was so sensitive.

The tears slipped and the man held you firmly in place, grunting with the squeeze and whispering a sequence of "shh" in your ear.

"That... that... good girl... beautiful girl... So beautiful... It looks beautiful all the dumb cock like that... it came so tasty, my pretty..." He whispered as he filled the side of your sweaty little face with kisses, red as he loved to see; devastated.

You accelerated breathing and low eyes delivered that she was no longer in this world and that orgasm was overwhelming, her legs were honeyed with her honey and Carlos buried in her place left her with her nerves the flower of her skin. He grunted when he was picked up and malled like a little doll, feeling him more deeply, if possible, leaning his hands somewhere seeking relief from that extravagant feeling of being full; Carlos had sat her on his lap, and her little feet barely touched the floor. She was so small.

"Now it's Daddy's turn." Whispering in the middle of his dirty smiles Carlos made you jump, like a doll.

And he did everything, made her go up and down and her contained whining showed how sensitive she was, tears flowed and her honey also went down the man's throbbing cock, making a mess. He growled in your ear every time he impaled you on his own cock, demonstrating how close he was.

He saw in the mirror her destroyed image and how easy it bounced on the man's lap, soft and fucked. Completely fucked up, both the body and the mind. Her poor mind, all there was in her was him.

He was beautiful, big and strong, the reflection of the mirror showed how beautiful he looked as he pursued his own orgasm, eyes closed or semi-closed, lips between his teeth beautiful and frowning as he growled and growled in his ear and neck. Drops of sweat adorned his face.

Carlos' big and voracious hands ran all over you sensitive body, squeezing where he could and where he couldn't. He stopped on the inside of his thighs and raised them as if it were nothing, now pushing his hip willingly; he would cum.

"Fuck...! Fuck, mi amor..." And then he came, filling you with will and strength, so much shit that he seemed to be keeping it all to yourself, all this time.

He moaned or whimpered, she doesn't know, when you felt the whole heat hitting the cervix of your uterus, filling you in absurd levels; it was absurd. A fucking good feeling.

He smiled as he came down from his height and took a deep breath like someone looking to recover. Carlos raised his hip giving you the whole view of him buried in there and went right there, that was the point.

"See? Do you feel that? That's me. It's my fucking dick all inside you, hard as fuck..." Whispering against your cheek he spread his hand against the beautiful relief that was in your belly and you felt the tears flow in the mountains; that was surreal.

You spasmed like the good sensitive little whore you are, almost melting right there with the vision of that volume inside yourself. How could you stand all that? It was being destroyed little by little and that was exciting. You tipped your head on Carlos' shoulder and stirred dencosa, grunting when she felt too stimulated.

It was all too much, everything in Carlos for you was too much.

You hid your face in the curve of the man's neck, or at least tried, aiming from there at Carlos' ring finger; a fucking ring shone in pure gold.

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a/n: As I said, English is NOT my first language so if there is something confused or wrong please tell me!

#f1 #formula 1 #f1 smut #carlos sainz x you #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz smut #im going crazy #smut #i need him #sorry not really sorry #carlos sainz

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cy-cyborg · 9 months

Text

Tips for writing and drawing amputee characters: Stump Scarring

This was something I had originally intended to mention in this post but felt it deserved its own separate post.

A lot of people, when drawing and designing amputee characters, draw their characters with these big, gnarly looking scars all over the stump. I get why people do this, but in reality, most amputees have stumps that look more like this:

The only scarring that is inherent to amputation (meaning most amputees have) is a very thin line right at the tip of the stump that comes from where the stump was sewn shut. After 5-10 years though, these thin incision scars will fade to be nearly invisible in most folks other than the indent it usually leaves in the skin.

Of course, there are exceptions! My own legs are covered in heavy scarring like the pictures below.

but typically, you only see this in amputees who lost their limb in ways that required them to also need skin grafts, such as from a burn (fire or acid), gangrene, some types of rapid-onset sepsis, or particularly brutal animal attacks.

For context, I used scars from meningococcal as reference here.

I think this is another reason a lot of people, particularly in 2D comics and animation, cover their amputee character's stumps, because they think all amputees have scars like the ones in the second image and I'll be honest, that's a lot to draw when you're drawing it over and over again, but unless your amputee also needed skin grafts bcuase of their injury/illness, their stumps will look more like the first images.

Fun fact: on particularly pale skin, scars can change colour depending on temperature. scars have less circulation and the blood vessels are closer to the skin, which means if you don't have a lot of melanin, your scars can turn a grey-ish purple colour like so:

This information is brought to you by an especially pasty white person in the southern hemisphere (where it's winter atm) who's scars haven't seen the sun since june lmao.

A quick final note: If you look up "burn scars" or any other similar type of large scarring on google a lot of what you get are fresh scars, so they're going to look different than the ones here. On pale skin, large scars like the ones above start out very dark red and will fade to look more like the images here. The same is true for dark skin, typically fresh scars will be much darker in colouration and will fade to be closer to the natural skin tone with time, though on both, they will always be very visible. Some types of scarring on darker skin tones can cause the skin to become lighter, but they don't usually turn entirely light pink like I've seen some folks draw. This is why it's so important to look up references of the type of scar your character has AND how that looks on their skin tone.

And as always, listen to POC and seek out the recourses specifically made by them, especially if you're drawing characters with darker skin tones. Their lived experience will always beat my "what I found through internet research and from talking to friends"

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prettiestlovergirl · 2 months

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hiii!! i love how u write theo and i was wondering if u could do another oral fixation!reader x cold!theo nott (it doesn’t have to be smut ofc, pls do whatever makes u comfortable, even if that means you don’t write this at all!!)

have a great night!

🎀 anon (if that’s not already taken ofc!)

oh, my love, i am sososo happy you asked me for this! idk why i have so much fun with cold! theo but i DO and the fact that you also love him makes me giddy hehe.

this is basically like a continuation of the last one! just a different nickname. (🎀 anon is all yours, babe!) i'm too lazy to add it to everything, bambola means doll! hope this lived up to your expectations. enjoy, my lovely! 𓆩♡𓆪

tw: MDNI; fem!reader; oral fixation! reader; princess! reader; jealousy; light hairpulling; fingering; unprotected sex (wrap it b4 you tap it); sarcastic banter; ends with some fluff; italian! theodore nott

currently, slytherin house was throwing a massive party in the common room. you guys had won in your game against ravenclaw, so of course you were all celebrating with loud music and an abundance of alcohol.

theo was looking for you. the two of you hadn't gotten a moment alone since the library incident he couldn't stop replaying on a loop in his mind.

wanting you was a bad idea. you were from two different worlds, you were polar opposites, but fuck did he need to have you again more than air.

even in a room full of people, his eyes always found you first. unfortunately (for the other guy) you were in the middle of a dance with some guy from the year above you two.

your face was flushed from dancing, your eyes sparkling with joy and laughter as the guy spun you around. your hair was in a ponytail, and he had the sudden urge to wrap it around his fist and tug you to him.

all it would take is one little tug and you would be all his for the taking, the douchebag with his hands on you didn't stand a fucking chance against him.

theo remained cool and composed, but his eyes? his eyes gave everything away. they showed the jealousy sparking deep within him, one misplaced hand away from starting a fire.

you must have been able to feel the heat of his stare on your skin, because you turned your head around and were instantly met with theo's dark gaze.

your breath hitched and the previous smile on your face was wiped as theo approached, instantly wrapping his arms around you. he made a point to place his hand just above douchebags.

"bambola, you didn't tell me you made a new friend." theo mused, his cool and collected smile masking the jealousy, rage, and sudden desire to snap and beat the shit out of this guy for even looking at you, let alone touching you.

"hey, man, who the fuck are you?" douchebag scoffed, his arms still on you as bodies continued to sway and party around you. "someone who's going to kick your pathetic ass if you don't get out of here in the next five seconds."

douchebag looked like he wanted to argue, but the murderous glint in theo's eyes and the fact that he started lifting his fingers in a countdown finally scared him away.

"what the hell was that?!" you huffed, stepping away from his grasp and placing your hands on your hips. "i really like ethan!" you hissed, noticing the muscle tick in his jaw as you said his name.

"you can do better, bambola. he scared too easy, he's not worth your time." theo said coolly, slight smirk on his face as you rolled your eyes. "oh, because you're better? please-"

"you really think you would have enjoyed yourself with him, bella? you think he would have made your eyes roll the way i did? think his fingers would compare to mine? i can still hear your pretty little whimpers, darling."

a shiver ripped through your body at his words, lips parting in surprise at hearing the normally so calm and proper theodore nott speak such filthy words with ease.

"you've got five minutes to meet me by the stairs, bambola... or i've throw you over my shoulder and drag you up myself." he purred in your ear, his voice low and dark and raspy with desire.

of course, you followed theo out almost immediately. you would have been a fool not to follow him, especially with the way you couldn't help but replay the scene of you two in library every time you closed your eyes.

anticipation fluttered beneath your skin as you and theo walked up the stairs to the boy's dormitory. there was an aching pressure between your thighs as you walked, his hand on the small of your back burning so hot he was practically branding you.

you couldn't take your eyes off him the moment you stepped into the room. you hadn't uttered a word the whole way up, but you didn't have to: you both knew exactly what was going to happen tonight.

theo leaned back against the canopy of his bed, arms crossed as his eyes burned into you. "come here." he finally commanded; voice soft as he rolled the sleeves of his shirt up his forearms.

you did as told, walking step by step until your bodies nearly collided. "fuck, bambola. you don't know what you do to me." he murmured before finally crashing his lips down onto yours in a rough, deliberate kiss.

his hand fisted your hair, holding you tightly as his teeth tugged at your bottom lip. he shifted a bit, sinking down onto his mattress and helping you straddle him with ease.

he pulled away after a moment, watching the way your chest heaved as you attempted to catch your breath before he left a trail of hot, fiery kisses down the side of your neck.

you could feel his cock digging into your skin through his boxers, drawing a soft whine out of you as you started to gently grind down against him.

he groaned against your neck, his hand sliding up your inner thigh until it reached your soaked panties. he pressed his palm firmly against your pussy, making you moan out in surprise and need.

"fuck, you're so wet." he groaned, dipping his hand into your panties and pushing two fingers inside your puffy walls. your eyes squeezed shut as you moaned, forehead leaning against his as you relished in the agonizingly delicious stretch.

"theo..." you gasped, mouth falling open as he buried his fingers to the hilt and immediately pressed his thumb against your swollen clit. "fuck, your roommates are gonna come up and see us." you whimpered, sweating beading on your forehead.

"no, they won't, bella." theo hummed, his voice maddeningly calm compared to your breathy whimpers. he brought his free hand up to your lips, pushing his thumb into your open mouth, effectively keeping you from asking more questions.

you rolled your hips down against him, desperate for more as he continued to slowly drag his thumb over your clit while his fingers rubbed against your walls. "need you to fuck me, please." you begged, coating his thumb in your saliva.

"ask me again." he demanded, voice still calm and collected as your tongue swirled around his thumb. "fuck me, theo. i need you to fuck me." you pleaded, opening your eyes to look right at him as he pulled his fingers out of you.

he flipped your positions, pushing you back against the mattress. his fingers made quick work of your clothes, stripping you completely bare for him. he ran his tongue over his lower lip, mouth going dry as he admired just how fucking gorgeous you were.

his gaze was almost predatory as he admired you before leaning down, kissing his way to your chest and taking a nipple into his mouth. he licked and tugged and teased while you squirmed and whimpered underneath him.

one hand gripped your hip tightly, it was definitely going to leave a fresh bruise on your skin but you didn't care. his other hand went down to quickly rid himself of his pants and boxers before lining himself up with you.

"look at me, bambola." he said roughly, waiting until your eyes were back on his. you nearly gasped when you saw him, the theodore nott in front of you was someone you could hardly recognize.

his usually perfect hair was tussled, his sweat making it stick to his forehead, and his eyes were pools of black and desire. "please." you begged, your voice hoarse with desire.

he kept direct eye contact with you as he finally pushed inside of you, inch by torturous fucking inch. it was sweaty and intimate and you'd never wanted this moment to end.

as he bottomed out, your mouth finally opened in a tortured moan. he lifted two fingers back into your mouth as he started to move slowly. you happily swirled your tongue around his fingers, thankful for the feeling as he started to pull back out.

he pulled out all the way until it was just the tip of his cock still inside before thrusting back inside of you. he thrusted deeper, faster, harder, and you wrapped your legs up around his waist to pull him closer.

after that, you could no longer form any thought that wasn't about how good his cock felt pounding into your desperate, soaked pussy. your tongue swirled around his fingers as you moaned and bucked your hips up to meet his thrusts.

tears streamed down your cheeks as he fucked into you, lips pressing kisses and bites all over your chest while your nails dug into his back. "look at you, bambola. already weeping from how good my cock is fucking your sweet little pussy."

your eyes rolled into the back of your head, the filthy words coming from him practically tipping you over the edge. "fuck, fuck, theo, 'm gonna cum, fuck!" you cried, toes curling as your orgasm crashed into you like a wave.

his controlled, deliberate thrusts quickly grew erratic. he let out a hiss as your nails scraped his skin, his teeth sinking into your shoulder as he fucked into you. he pulled out a few moments later, coating your stomach in his cum.

you laid there while he got a rag to quickly clean you up, letting you stay collapsed and boneless against his sheets. theo being theo, he had to at least put your things in a pile before eventually laying beside you.

your eyes were closed, but you could feel his eyes staring at you intently. you finally opened one eye, staring at him as you yawned. "what?" you asked, biting your kiss-swollen lip.

"nothing, nothing it's just... i think this might be the longest i've ever heard you go without talking." he teased, a smirk on his face as his shoulders shook with laughter.

you wanted to be mad, you really did, but it was so impossibly hard to be mad when you heard him laugh. he was always so composed, so stoic. any time you could crack through his persona was a success in your eyes.

"mean!" you laughed, reaching up to smack his chest. he grabbed your arm before you could hit him and he tugged you in close. he pressed a soft, gentle kiss on the chunk of skin he'd bitten earlier before covering you with a sheet.

"you're mine, bambola, and now that i have you? i'm not letting you go any time soon."

ᵈⁱᵛⁱᵈᵉʳ ᵐᵃᵈᵉ ᵇʸ @ᵐᵘʳᵘᶠᶠⁱⁿ

#☆lola writes !#☆ lola's requests !#☆ my lovely 🎀 anon #theodore nott #theodore nott smut #theodore nott x you #theo nott x reader #theodore nott x reader #mwah <3

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phoward89 · 23 days

Text

Masterlist

Dark!Coryo, Dark!Peacekeeper Coryo, Innocent!Reader, Delulu!Coryo, obsession, manipulation, toxic relationship, drinking, cussing, oral (f receiving), p in v, squirting, creampie, dubcon, breeding kink, degradation, uh that's about it

Chapter 5:

According to the clock tacked up behind the bar it was past midnight. Your brother was still perched at the bar, knocking back moonshine and staring at you and Coryo. He's been watching the two of you all night go back and forth between the dance floor and a wall side table. Seeing you so enchanted by Private Snow along with being introduced to his fellow Peacekeepers pissed him off.

If it wasn't for Ashlie plying him with moonshine and reminding him with harsh whispers that he can't make a scene because she can't afford to lose her job, well, he would've started shit with Coryo. But, since he had booze flowing freely at his beck and call he decided to stay put on his bar stool. Plus, he has to admit, even in his inebriated state, that the family couldn't afford Ashlie to lose her job. Hell, it was bad enough that you lost your job.

And now your brother's starting to think that maybe the Doula running the apothecary shop fired you because she felt uneasy with Private Snow hanging around you. Hey, Rein knows that you had to meet him somewhere; it only makes sense that you met him in town. In the Merchant's Sector while working.

Your brother was over everything. He did his best to raise you, but you seem to be cut from the same cloth as your mother. Rein never liked his stepfather, Colonel Javanis Halvir, and he never told you about him or the truth about how he died. About how both of your parents died.

But if you keep hanging on Private Snow as if the sun shines out of his damn asshole then he might have to tell you the truth. As a scare tactic. A warning to stay away from the pretty boy peacekeeper that's wooing you with twisted words and pretty pearly white smiles.

“Stop staring at that peacekeeper like you want him to drop dead, Rein.” Ashlie ordered her longtime boyfriend in a long, drawn out huff. When her only reply from him was a squint of his Seam grey eyes, she sighed. Looking between your brother and you, as you sat on Coryo's lap sipping on moonshine, Ashlie told your brother, “I'll have a talk with her in the morning about him.” Patting his arm before going over to a customer, she added in, “I'm sure this is just a passing fancy.”

“If she's anything like my mom, well, it ain't just a passing fancy.” Rein slurred, knocking back his shine.

His eyes narrowed disapprovingly as he watched Coriolanus motioning for you to stand up; setting your shine jar down only to stand up after you. He couldn't make out what was being said, but it looks like Coriolanus and you are saying your goodbyes to a couple of his peacekeeper friends.

Goddamnit, he hopes you don't do anything stupid tonight.

You and Coryo walked back to your place from the Hobb side by side. In fact, he had his arm snaked around you; keeping you tightly glued to his hip. The smell of smoke and shine heavily lingered on the two of you. Even in the fresh summer's night air, the stench of the Hobb was heavily stained on you.

“Look, that's the North Star.” You pointed out the star that is used by sailor's and such for navigation. “I read that sailors and military men use it like a compass, if they don't have one, during the dead of night.” You explained, looking at Coriolanus with a smile as he looked up at the bright star shining in the black velvet sky. “It's also known as Polaris.”

“I've never seen it before, darling. The bright lights of the Capitol doesn't make stargazing very easy.”

“We can always lay in the meadow and stargaze sometime if you want.” You offered as you and Coryo continued on your way to your house.

“We'll do it one night, but not tonight.” Coriolanus told you. His breath was hot against your ear as he huskily said, “Tonight I'm going to show you how much I love you.” Pressing his lips to your temple, he crudely promised, “I'm going to fuck you so good tonight, baby.” Giving you a wide, eccentric grin, he added, “And it's all because I love you.”

You felt your heart racing a mile a minute in your chest at the implication of his words, his promise. Were you ready for that? To be fucked. Honestly, you weren't sure.

Coryo was so charming and nice to you. He’s also so devoted despite not being with you that long. And he claims to love you.

So why are you so nervous about his plans for tonight? Is it because you've never done that before or is it something else?

A sloppy wet kiss on your jawline, near your ear, accompanied by a deep husky question of, “You ready for me to make you mine tonight, baby girl?”, shook you out of your mental musings.

Worrying your lip, you slightly pulled away from your platinum blonde peacekeeper and honestly told him in a small nervous voice, “I dunno, Coryo. I've never…you know…been with anyone or been in love before.”

The peacekeeper stopped you both dead in your tracks, only to spin you around and take hold of your face. Squishing your cheeks in his large, calloused hands- his long fingers brushing into your hair, Coriolanus firmly told you with lust in his deep baritone, “I love you, Y/N, and you love me too. I'll always love you; tonight’s time for us to act on our feelings.” Pressing his forehead against yours, he promised, “If you're scared of me fucking you and leaving, don't be. I swear, I'll never leave you. Death itself can't even separate us.”

You still felt nervous, but his romantic words had you giving into his desire. Albeit relentlessly, you agreed to let him make you his tonight in every sense of the word. Your easy cooperation had Coriolanus grinning triumphantly from ear to ear.

Gesturing to your nearby house with a tilt of his head, your boyfriend suggested, “Let's get inside; make ourselves comfortable in your room.”

“Okay.” You simply nodded, although your heart was heavily beating against your ribcage.

You knew that as soon as you walked into your house and entered your room with Coryo that things between the two of you would never be the same again. That things would be serious and binding since he swore to never leave your side once he made love to you.

Well, he said the word fuck, but you'd prefer to say making love since it sounds better. Or at least to you it sounds less crude.

But in time Coryo’ll have you saying fuck too, cause he's not a ‘making love' type of man.

The only light in your small room came from the moonlight streaming in from the window. The silver light cast a glow on your naked body as you lay in bed, chest heaving as you wither under Coryo's touch. His head was between your shaky legs, which were slung haphazardly over his squared shoulders.

The only sound in the room was that of your wet pussy squelching obscenely as he fingered you, faster and faster, while using his tongue to flick and lick your clit.

“Coryo…” You mewled, feeling the coil tighten in your lower belly, as you fisted your faded white sheets.

Resting his head against your inner thigh, while continuing to pump his long fingers in and out of your cunt, he told you, “You're close, baby.” In between placing open mouth kisses along your inner thigh, he asked, “You want me to make you cum? Hmm, darling?”

Of course you want him to make you cum. Your head's spinning and your core’s throbbing. There's an itch inside of you that you desperately need scratched; Coryo's the only one that can do that for you. He's the one that has you teetering at the edge of an intense feeling you've never felt before. Of course you want, no need, him to tip you over the edge into nirvana.

“Yes.” You whine. Nodding your head rapidly, you babble, “Please, Coryo, please make me cum.”

Coriolanus' hot breath fans over the soft skin of your inner thigh as he chuckles, hearty and deep, at your response to his question. It amuses him how he has you, a sweet and innocent girl, squirming and begging under him like a seasoned wanton whore. Only for him tho.

Only for him.

Coriolanus moved his fingers faster inside of your tight wet hole while bringing his lips back to your clit. He sucked hard on the swollen bundle of nerves before using his prominent nose to press against it, hard, while running his tongue sloppily over your folds. He was lewdly eating your cunt with such hunger, such vigor.

Your sweet juices tasted heavenly to him. God, he swears you're the best pussy he's ever tasted; he can't get enough of you. He's literally inhaling you as he laps at your folds, sucking your nectar into his mouth as if it’s a magical elixir to cure everything wrong with him. His nose continues to press into your pearl, making friction that sets your nerves on fire. That paired with the curl of his rough fingers hard and fast against the special spongy spot inside of you and his tongue messily passing thru your puffy petals has you seeing stars.

You cum with his name falling from your lips like a prayer, legs quaking and squeezing around his head. Your head thrashes around on your pillow as he continues to eat your cunt while you ride out your high. Coryo's got his hand, the one that's not stuck inside of your pussy, firmly holding down your lower stomach; preventing you from bucking your hips.

As your breathing steadily evens out, the platinum peacekeeper pulls his fingers out of your cunt and lifts his head. Pressing a kiss to the inside of one thigh, then the other, he tells you, “You've got such a sweet cunt, darling.” Pushing himself up, he raunchily smirks, “Sweeter than honey.”, before sucking your juices off of his fingers.

Your eyes are blown wide by lust and intrigue as you watch Coryo, kneeling between your spread legs in nothing, but his white boxers (which has a wet patch of pre-cum staining them), sucking on two of his long fingers with such erotic fervor. Your breath hitched in the back of your throat and your pussy grew wetter while watching Coryo's eyes flutter as his tongue swirled around his fingers; gathering up all of your juices.

Coriolanus pulls his fingers out of his mouth with a loud, wet pop. Moving off the bed and pulling down his boxers, he smirked, “You're so wet and ready for me, my darling.”

Your eyes nearly bulged out of your head as you took in the sight of Coryo's cock. You've never seen one before, but by the looks of it, well, you knew his was big. It had to be at least 8 inches; was thick too with veins running alongside it. His tip was angry and red, leaking precum.

Coriolanus saw you warily eying up his cock as he took his place kneeling on the bed between your spread legs. Using his hand to spread his pre-cum on his length, to use as lube, he began to give himself a few prep pumps. All while darkly smirking, “Gonna split you open with my big cock, baby.”

Since Coryo's the only man you've ever been with, you're not used to dirty talk. It did turn you on, but you do feel a bit- dunno- flustered by it too. Everything felt like it was happening too fast. Yes, everything you're doing with him feels good, but…still…everything seems so rushed.

As if Coryo has to have you. Has to stake his claim on you.

Well, he does have a primal need to possess you; to own you, but you don't need to know that.

No…

All you need to know is that your boyfriend loves you; wants to show you how much by fucking your brains out and taking your virginity.

“Coryo, is this gonna hurt? I've heard it hurts the girl for the first time.” You ask, looking up into icy blue eyes with apprehension in yours; killing the mood for dirty talk.

Seeing you worried about him hurting you was like a dagger to Coriolanus' heart. He'd never hurt you (not intentionally that is) and he really wants you to enjoy sex. He doesn't want you shying away from it. Hell, he wants you to be comfortable with him fucking you 7 ways til Sunday.

Coryo stopped stroking his cock, only to take your wrists in his hands and place them on his shoulders, all the while giving you assurances of, “Y/N, baby, I won't hurt you. I know I'm big, but I prepped you; your wet enough so I'll just slide on in.”

Nodding, you ask, “Can you go slow?”

“Yea. I'll go slow, baby.” Coryo promised with a kiss before teasingly sliding his cockhead up and down your folds; bumping your clit once or twice too. Lining himself up with your tight hole, he said, “Just hold onto me and try not to be too loud. Yea?”

“Okay.” You nod with a timid smile, hands resting on his shoulders, as he holds onto your hip with his free hand.

Coryo pressed a lingering kiss to your lips before pushing his cock into your tight cunt. The feeling of his tip entering you and stretching you out for the first time stung. But it also felt good in a way that you couldn't describe. Your wet hole greedily sucked in his length as he slowly pushed into you.

Damn, does Coriolanus think that your tight cunt feels good around his cock. He wants nothing more than to just snap his hips and bottom out deep inside of your tight, wet canal, but he was holding back- barely- because you asked him to go slow. He'll do anything for you, because he's obsessed to the point where he wants to ball and chain you to him forever.

You feel every vein and very ridge of his hard cock as Coryo continues to push into you. Your hold on his shoulders tighten as you feel his tip press against your barrier. Biting your bottom lip, you brave yourself for the pain of having your barrier broken. But that pain never comes.

No, you just feel a sharp prick; a burning sting, as your cherry's popped. You do let out a strangled whine as Coryo pushes the rest of the way in; bottoming out and causing a large bulge to become visible in your lower stomach.

“You're such a good girl, darling. Taking me so well.” Coryo praised, looking down at where you're joined. “Look, baby.” He instructed. Pressing a hand to the bulge in your stomach; causing you to let out a throaty mewl, he proudly boasted, “Look how deep I am, how I'm in your womb.”

“Oh…” You trailed off, eyes wide with shock, as you listened to your boyfriend and looked down.

True enough, his cock was deep inside of you. You could see it protruding from your lower belly. It shocked you, mostly since you didn't know it was possible for him to be buried so deep inside of you.

“Fuck…” Coryo swore, his baritone heavy and thick with need. “You're cunt's so tight; feels so damn good around my cock.”

He tilted your chin up slightly, only to bend down and give you a kiss. A kiss that was fiery; full of passion and teeth. Pulling away, he grabbed a hold of your leg and hiked it up over his hip, only to slowly drag his cock out of your tight hole and push it back in again- starting the first movements of your fucking.

Coryo's pace was measured, but his thrusts were deep. With every move that he made, you're feeling pleasure start to bubble up inside of you. At some point, in an attempt to get him to go deeper, you hike up your other leg on his hip.

“Does my cock feel good pounding this pussy, baby? Hmm?” Coryo asked, grabbing a hold of your legs and folding them tightly into your chest. “Huh, baby? Am I fucking you good?” He asked, plunging in and out of you at a hard, fast pace.

Coryo knows, even if you don't, by the way your cunt’s twitching and clenching around his cock that you’re gonna be cumming soon. That your pussy’s fluttering cause she needs pounding; needs fucked hard and raw to drool and squirt out an orgasm.

“Yes, Coryo.” You nod, nails digging into his biceps as you feel your core ache with desire. “Yes, you're fucking me so good.”

“Your cunt's so greedy for my cock, baby.” He huskily told you. Leaning his head down, close to your ear, he whispers in a smug, but filthy tone, “Fuck, you're close again. I can feel that pussy clenching my cock, desperate to milk me dry.”

“Yea.” You desperately agree with him. Feeling the coil start to tighten in your lower belly, for the second time tonight, you plead, “Please, Coryo, make me cum again. Please.”

“Fuck, I love it when you beg for my cock like a wanton whore.” Coriolanus admitted, his tone hoarse with lust, as he looked down at you with undying desire in his blown pupils.

The only sounds in the room are your moans, the obscene sound of your wet squelching cunt, skin slapping against skin, and the creaking of your bed’s metal headboard banging against the wall as your boyfriend bends you like a pretzel. Coryo's pistoning in and out of your cunt so fast that his dog tags are starting to bounce between your chests; even smacking you in the face. Feeling bold, you grab his dog tags in your hand and pull him forward by them, only to lean up slightly and capture his lips in a needy kiss.

A kiss that you didn't even know you craved until you planted it on his lush lips.

Coriolanus let out a groan before hungrily kissing you back. Your kiss soon becomes a heated open mouth mess full of spittle trailing down your chins as he plows faster and faster into your cunt. Your lips trace over his, letting out a high pitch moan as you cum hard around his cock.

“Oh, fuck, baby. Fuck, that's so hot.” Coryo moans at the sight of you squirting, soaking his dick, thighs, and the sheets.

Coriolanus has heard of squirting, but has never seen it before. And now that he knows you're a squirter, well he loves you even more than he did before.

“Coryo, please, it's too much.” You begged, starting to feel overstimulation kick in for such an intense orgasm during your first time.

Coryo’s eyes narrowed as he snarled, “I'm not stopping and getting blue balls, Y/N. Just be a good girl and take it til I cum.”

His reaction took you aback. You honestly wasn't expecting it. You really thought that he'd pull out after you told him that it's getting to be too much for you.

“Coryo, I can't take it. It's too much; I’m too sensitive.” You try to reason with him.

But one thing you'll quickly learn is that there's no reasoning with Coryo. And that's a lesson you're learning right now.

Coryo rolled his icy eyes at you and shook his head before pausing his movements and pulling out of you. You thought that it was over, that he'd take care of himself or maybe even have you touch him, but you're wrong about that.

So wrong.

Instead, Coriolanus grabs you and roughly flips you over onto your stomach. Confused, your try to lift yourself up and look at him over your shoulder. “Coryo-” You begin to ask, only to be roughly shoved down into the mattress face first.

“Don't whine, baby.” The platinum blonde peacekeeper gruffly instruction while pulling up your hips. “I told you, Y/N, that you'll just have to take what I give you cause I'm not fucking getting blue balls tonight.” He sneered while roughly entering your oversensitive pussy in one sharp thrust.

You let out a loud cry, one that Coryo's afraid will wake up the entire neighborhood full of scumbags and gutter rats; send them running over to the sorry excuse of a wooden shack you're in. Bending down, causing the cool metal of his dog tags to brush against your bare back, he hisses right into your ear, “Shut up, bitch. We don't wanna get caught, now do we?”

Coryo didn't bother to straighten up his back. No, he just began pounding into you rough, hard, and fast. His cock was throbbing and he needed to cum. Badly. Right now he was pissed that you tried to push him off of you before he got the chance to shoot his load into your perfect, tight cunt and knock you up.

Hell, he knows you're a virgin, but he wasn't expecting you to get all whiny and panicky at overstimulation. Gods, he hopes you learn your lesson tonight when it comes to his dominance in bed- well while fucking in general cause he knows it's not going to be contained to just the bedroom.

You sobbed into your pillow, hair fanning you like a halo, and hands twisting into your sheets as Coryo pistons in and out of you at a brutal pace. You feel the tip of his cock bruising your cervix with every move he makes along with his cum heavy balls slapping against your puffy, swollen clit, making your cunt burn and ache.

“For whining about not being able to take it, your greedy lil tight cunt's clenching around my cock again.” Your boyfriend mockingky grunts in your ear, his fingers digging painfully into your hips. No doubt you'll have bruises marring them in the morning.

“Coryo…please…please…” You cried desperately into your pillow. Honestly, you're not even sure what you're begging for. Maybe some kind of relief from the intense pressure you're feeling? Yes, that has to be it.

You need relief from what you're currently feeling. The intense push-pull inside of you; the electricity coursing thru your core.

“Shut the fuck up. Damn, bitch, you want your brother to bust in here and pull me off ya ‘fore we both cum?” Coryo sneered, his deep timbre rough, heavy, and dripping with sin.

Fearing that you'd get him caught, since he had no idea if your family's home or not, he pulled you up by the nap of your neck and ordered in a whisper hiss, “Hold onto the headboard, now.”

You did as you're told, stretching your arms out and grabbing the metal rails of your headboard. Before you could even register what was going on, one of Coryo's large, calloused hands wrapped around one of yours while his other hand roughly covered your mouth- literally smothering you.

Your eyes are wide at the new position you find yourself in. Your mind’s overloaded by everything as Coryo picks up his fast, punishing pace pounding your pussy.

Everytime you try to whine or moan, your boyfriend clamps his hand down hard, muffling your cries and causing your jaw to ache. Your body's being jolted back and forth rapidly by Coryo's fast paced movements. Oh God, if you weren't bracing yourself by holding onto your bed frame your head would've been driven thru the thin wooden wall by now.

The cool metal of his dog tags dangles against your back as Coryo hunches over you, possessing your body for his pleasure. He's plowing roughly into you from behind, working both of you up to your orgasms.

He's panting and sweat’s beading his brow as he grits out, “I'm gonna cum, baby.” Feeling your cunt clamping and clenching around his cock, he orders, "You better cum too.”

One, two, three more rough thrusts and Coryo's biting into the crook of your neck, causing you to cry out a strangled sob as your final orgasm of the night hits you hard. His hand falls from your mouth and slips down to lightly squeeze your throat, as he shoots thick, hot ropes of cum deep into your cunt.

Instead of pulling out, he languidly snaps his hips; lazily fucking his seed into your womb.

“Shit, baby, think I just knocked you up?” He asks while gently strumming his thumb against the side of your throat while still keeping a loose grip around it. “You're gonna look so sexy, full and swollen with my baby.”

What the hell? He wants a baby?! Oh boy…Oh no…Oh boy…You weren't expecting to hear that. Suddenly you feel like you're sinking, that everything’s too much and you can't keep yourself afloat. Tears start to spill down your cheeks since you feel overwhelmed by everything.

Coryo stops his lazy movements and lets his now softening cock (which is still big) slip out of your abused hole. He smugly smirks as he watches a slight trickle of red tinted cum slowly falling from your cunt. His chest burns with pride as he sees the red smears on your thighs and his cock- the proof that he took your innocence. That you belong to him and only him from this moment forward.

Coriolanus realized that he pushed you too hard for your first time as he watched your body shaking with sobs. Sighing, he pries your hands off of your headboard and positions the two of you to lay on your bed under the thin blanket, your body tucked into his with your head resting on his chest.

“I know, baby. I know, it was a bit intense, but don't cry.” Coryo told you, wiping your tears away with the rough pad of this thumb. Rubbing soothing circles into the small of your back, he lovingly cooed, “You did such a good job taking what I gave, baby girl.” Pressing a kiss to your forehead, he did some damage control with a half-hearted apology of, “I'm sorry I pushed you so hard, Y/N. I just love you so much; got caught in the moment.” Softly stroking your cheek, he assured you, “I'll never do anything to purposely hurt you, my darling rose. I've just never been with a virgin before; forgot that you needed a softer touch once things got heated.”

You just nod your head and let Coryo calm you down; lull you into a dreamless sleep wrapped up in his arms.

Your brother, Rein, passed out a few feet from the door as soon as he stumbled into the house. He was so drunk on moonshine that it's a miracle he even made it home before passing out on the street. Which he's done a handful of times before.

Ashlie on the other hand was as sober as a judge and made her way to the bedroom she shares with your brother just fine. Only problem is that her bed’s pressed up against the wall that separates your bedrooms. Hell, your bed and her bed are actually against the same wall.

So, while your brother, Rein, was passed out on the floor snoring in a pile of his own drool (and most likely puke) his girlfriend, Ashlie, was stuck lying awake in bed listening to your platinum blonde peacekeeper boyfriend roughly fuck you and degrade you. It made the barmaid uncomfortable; made her feel bad for you. She feels like you deserve someone better than a peacekeeper that just views you as an easy piece of ass. So, she knows that tomorrow morning she needs to confront you about Coryo; make you a cup of bitter herb tea too- cause gods forbid you fall pregnant with Private Snow's bastard.

Except there's just one problem with Ashlie's assumption. Private Coriolanus Snow doesn't view you as an easy piece of ass; instead he views you as his soulmate. As the future mother of his children; the beautiful girl that he's going to marry and make his First Lady Snow.

To Coryo you're his girl and nothing's going to change that. Now that he's popped your cherry he's never letting you go. The devil himself couldn't tear the two of you apart.

Tags: @kuroosbby001 @preteen @poppyflower-22 @meetmeatyourworst @whipwhoops @bxtchopolis @readingthingsonhere @savagenctzen @ryswritingrecord @erikasurfer @tulips2715 @universal-s1ut @thesmutconnoisseur @squidscottjeans @sudek4l @wearemadeofstardust0 @mashiromochi @gracieroxzy @belcalis9503 @shari-berri @aoi-targaryen @whiteoakoak @spear-bearing-bi-witch @gisellesprettylies @loverandqueenofdragons @qoopeeya @mfnqueen1 @permanentlyexhaustedpigeon88 @v-love @swiftieblyth @joyfulyouthlover @harvey-malfoy @tian-monique @chxrrybomb22 @marvel-hiddles-stark @xjinnix @devils-blackrose @zombicupcake3 @jacesvelaryons @tempt-ress

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brayneworms · 4 months

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prompt: l lawliet + food play + pink

wc. 2.8k. gn!reader, foodplay, virgin!l, handjobs, sliiiight come eating, reader is a wet cat in a cardboard box kinda, safe sane and consensual, no real power dynamics.

L contextualises things in the way he sees the world.

Strings of numbers, statistics, behavioural patterns that he's memorised to a 'T' until he can tell guilt from the aversion of an eye or fury from the remnants of nails pressed into the palm of someone's hand. It's why maybe something like sex or desire is a struggle for him. It's not that he doesn't understand it, it's more like he doesn't see the—the need for it, or whatever. You chalk it up to him being extremely busy and also probably totally asexual and don't think about it.

(Don't think about it much.)

It sort of surprises you that it's you he corners with his questions about. Maybe he's more embarrassed than he lets on—as it is, he looks cool as a cucumber save for the faintest shade of pink across his cheekbones. There's no way he would escape a conversation about it from anyone on the squad without a degree of ragging. Misa would squeal like a pig if L dared to broach the topic with her, you're sure. Matsuda would blush bright red and trip over all his words, and Aizawa would probably stare at him like he'd set his firstborn on fire.

And Light is Light. He probably knows little more than L, for all the airs he puts on.

So it's you he comes to. When it first starts, you think it has something to do with a case or lead he's hunting. Tell me, have you had sex before?

Perched like a frog, licking whipped cream off his finger. You don't know if he's doing to be provocative or not; don't know which is worse, that he's aware of what he's doing or not.

"This isn't exactly proper workplace conversation L."

A flicker of a smile. Cheeky, omniscient. "Feel free to report me to HR, in that case."

You do answer—honestly and concisely, if not with a shade of awkwardness. He's essentially your boss. But L seems so far removed from the worlds of sexuality and desire that it seems harmless, occupational, and eventually it stops feeling embarrassing. Out of nowhere—what is the purpose of restrains in an intimate context? Why do you think some people like to feel as though they have no control in the bedroom? Would you say that visual pornography has given watchers unrealistic expectations of actual intercourse?

One night, the two of you alone in front of a big glowing screen, turning to him and asking. "Why do you ask me this stuff, anyway? Is it for a case?"

"No," he says neutrally. A quick glance from his dark eyes you could almost describe as coy. "I'm just... curious."

"Curious," you echo, deadpan. "You?"

"Does that surprise you?" he murmurs. You almost feel that your honest answer—yes—would be insulting now, so instead you just shrug and mumble something incoherent under your breath. "You're not completely wrong. I thought having a better understanding of things like sex and power dynamics would be beneficial in the long run. Most people have a greater knowledge of it than me, which—puts me at a disadvantage." He says these last words with an air of revulsion, as though the very concept of knowing less than someone sours in his mouth, and you chuckle at his childishness.

"That makes sense." You pause. Wonder if you're reading this all wrong, then barrel ahead anyway. "Wouldn't actually experiencing it for yourself lend a better understanding than anything else, though?"

L's eyebrow raises. His smile has vanished, leaving him bug-eyed and unreadable. "What are you suggesting?"

He's not stupid, and you're not subtle. He knows exactly what you were suggesting. The fact that he's trying to get you to go into more detail rather than firing you on the spot is probably a good sign, and further than you expected to get. You squirm in your seat.

"You know. It's like being told about how something feels rather than knowing," you say awkwardly. "I'm just—can I ask—"

"It only seems fair," L says slowly. "After I've been badgering you with my own questions for so long." His chair spins; he rests his wrists on his rucked-up knees, fingers steepled in front of him. "Please."

Hot-faced, you spin your chair aimlessly. "Okay, well, uh—have you? I mean, before?"

L hesitates before he shakes his head, an almost imperceptible twitch that has his dark hair floating. You swallow the sudden large dry lump in your throat.

"Okay. So. Probably somewhere to start," you mumble.

L seems to consider this. "Would you be willing?"

You don't have the right to be surprised, with all the dancing around the subject, but you are, still. You choke on your spit and fly around to look at him, which is a mistake. His gaze is so dark and intense, and you think he can see right through you before you even open your mouth to answer.

"I'm not—" you stammer, with no idea what you're going to say. "I mean—"

"I had assumed you would be," L goes on calmly, but you catch the slight flicker of his eyes, a ghost of uncertainty that makes your chest squeeze. "If I have read your responses incorrectly, though, feel free to forget I asked. I can guarantee no awkwardness tomorrow."

"It's not that," you blurt. L blinks at you, go on. "It's just... do you have any idea what you're, you know. Into? Where to start?"

L's eyes flicker, the barest furrow knitted between his brows. You can tell he hasn't thought too hard about it. "What would you suggest?" he asks, curling his long fingers over his knees.

You swallow. "Well... anything you like the idea of, I guess. Something familiar, to ease you into it."

L's eyes roll over to his desk, where a perfectly glistening slice of strawberry cake waits for him. Pink sponge and halved red berries, topped with pale pink cream. "Familiar," he echoes. "I may have a suggestion."

So you feed L a strawberry just to get started.

Hold it up. It's distinctly awkward; L just stares at it for a moment, the berry dusted with frosting that glistens between your fingers. You tell him, "If you're not comfortable with this, sex is probably going to be—"

He leans forward and plucks the fruit from between your fingers; you feel the barest ghosting of teeth, the sweep of his tongue sharp and curious against the pads of your fingers before he leans back again. You watch the motions of his jaw and throat as he chews and swallows. Pins you with his headlamp stare, wide and dark.

You deconstruct the strawberry cake carefully, removing the berries and setting them to the side. Cast a look over at him. "Take off your shirt?"

L twists the hem of this shirt for a few moments before removing it. It feels so strange to see him devoid of clothing, like a knight removing their armour. Pale ribs, pinched waist. He's not whipcord-thin like you had imagined—there's lean muscle packed under the skin, his stomach flat and somewhat soft. It flexes almost nervously when you look at it. He reclines back on his bed without being told, bracing his weight onto his elbows, legs dangling off the side.

"You sure about all this?" you ask, glancing from the smooth planes of his white skin—shit—to the plate of crumbling pink dessert. "Didn't think you'd be into, you know. All the mess."

"I have a shower," L says reflexively.

You take that as permission to approach with the plate. You place the strawberry halves in a red dotted line, starting at his clavicle, watching him shiver and flex at the cold touch. Down—one at the bottom of his ribs, one above his bellybutton, one at his naval just above the low sling of his jeans. He's started to flush, prettily pink down his chest. It makes you slightly dizzy.

"Okay. So. Okay." You try not to feel so nervous, but it's more like you feel out of place, or time, or space. It feels surreal, basically. Standing between L's legs with your fingers stained pink from fruit and frosting. Him looking up at you like that, all big dark round eyes and slightly parted lips. Damn it. You take a deep, steadying breath. "Okay, so, I'll start now if you're okay. And just say if you don't want—if you want to stop, or if you don't like anything, just say, okay?"

"I understand the basic premises of consent, if that's what you're trying to affirm." The words are all L, but there's an element of breathlessness to them.

"Just making sure we're clear," you mutter. You lean forward and smooth a palm over his collarbones. They're sharp, they jut up to meet your hand like cut diamond, and you hear and see his breath hitch, which is slightly intoxicating. His skin is warmer and softer than you thought it would be. You run your hands over his shoulders and neck, which he squirms away from with a wrinkled nose.

"No neck?" you ask.

He shakes his head. So no neck.

Once you're done exploring this part of his body, you lean forward, close your lips around the strawberry and bite the end of it, sinking your teeth into the flesh. Pink juice runs down your chin; L's eyes follow it, transfixed, as you tilt your head forward and push your mouthful against his lips. They part unquestioningly, and you push the strawberry into his mouth with your tongue. Your lips brush together, tantalising and sweet with sugar. A mimic of a kiss, a palimpsest of intimacy. You don't want to overwhelm him, anyway.

This goes on; your hands over his chest next, the soft pectorals. An experimental brush of your thumb over his left nipple that makes his whole body shudder. He's so sensitive, reacting to every prod and touch and tweak with a jerk and a shiver. Gooseflesh blooms up his skin, pebbling his nipples, and when you tweak the other one gently he lets out a choked sound.

Finding the strawberry nestled under his ribs. Taking it between your teeth and passing it to him. His face gets pinker with each one. Stomach, concave, flexing with every hard breath. A ticklish spot over his belly button. Strawberry, bite, pass. The flex of his jaw as he chews.

Fingers over his waist, indenting the skin as much as you dare. You try not to think of how easily he would bruise. Brushing your touch over his lower abdomen makes his breath catch again. You find the strawberry, hold it between your lips. L cranes his neck, searching this time—he thinks he knows the game, has memorised the steps, found the pattern, the sequence. He doesn't know that the best sex is the unpredictable kind. This time, you press your lips against him and when your tongue pushes the strawberry into his mouth it stays there. His lips part, slack against yours, either in shock or inexperience. You allow yourself the briefest twirl of your tongue against his before pulling back with a wet pop.

L stares at you as you retreat. The strawberries leave pale pink residue on his skin. Pulling back fully reveals the hardness between his legs, pushing up against the dark denim of his jeans. He grunts when your eyes land on it, either out of embarrassment or frustration. You swallow and its like sandpaper.

"Still want me to...?"

"I have not changed my mind," he replies, slightly hoarsely and a beat slower than usual. You shrug, smooth your hands over the tent at his crotch, and he whines. It's the most searing noise you've pulled from him yet, and all from some halfhearted palming over the jeans. It sends a thrill zipping through you, hot and addicting. His arms shake with the weight of holding himself up, neck craning to follow as you sink to your knees between his legs.

You unzip him, pop the button, and he groans slightly at the freedom from the constraints of his clothes. He's fully hard, straining against his dark underwear. You experiment, rubbing at the tip, feeling for the wet spot, and he keens and thrashes, losing his stability and crashing to the mattress. He makes a frustrated noise just after, as though cursing himself for his own lack of control.

"That—" he swallows hard, breathes shakily. "That feels..."

Your hand hovers. "Am I stopping?"

"No, I don't..." He scrambles. L scrambles over his words. "Please, continue."

You stroke him over his underwear for a few concentrated minutes, mostly enjoying the way he twitches and huffs and occasionally makes soft, whiny noises, the way he starts to rut his hips against your hand. No technique, no rhythm, just some sort of baseless desire that you find incredibly hot. There's almost a frustration to it that makes you want to laugh—of course there would be nothing more agonising to someone like L than seeing what he wanted so close to him but being unable to accomplish it himself.

When he starts gritting his teeth, you pull his boxers down to his thighs and he makes a choking, embarrassed sound. When you wrap your fingers around his cock for the first time, finding it velvety-soft and leaking, his eyes roll back and his hips arch into the loose wet tunnel of your hand. "Oh," is all he says. Small and soft like he's surprised. His neck twists and his mouth presses into the starched white sheets. "Oh," he says again as your fist moves slowly, stroking with intent, up and down. He's not overly big, fits nicely in your hand, makes swiping over the head where the pre beads with your thumb nice and convenient. And you love the way he shudders and thrashes when you do it.

"How does that feel?" Your voice is lower than you remember it being. L cracks a bleary eye open; his face is flushed bright pink now, a flush that bleeds all the way down his chest, blending in with the strawberry stains.

"It feels," he starts, before his brow pinches. "I—I am not sure how to—how to describe..."

"It's okay," you tell him. His thighs shake, flexing against the edge of the mattress. When he tips his head back the cords in his pretty throat bulge, so biteable. "You can come whenever."

"I wasn't—oh," he gasps, squirming. "I wasn't aware I n-needed your—permission, oh."

"Yeah, well," you say intelligently, a little struck dumb by the sight before you. "Just making sure we're on the same page."

"A-and what page is that?" he pants, thrusting his hips messily into your hand. He's so fucking sensitive that you swear you can see his eyes growing shiny.

"The one where I help you out, so don't be a brat," you murmur. L laughs breathlessly, trying, you think, to summon some retort. You twist your fist around him and it died, half-formed in his brain, his eyes rolling back and fingers flexing hard in the sheets.

After another minute, he reaches out and grabs your wrist hard enough to bruise. He doesn't say it—can't, maybe. But you know. Your pace speeds up just a touch and he honest to god moans, spilling out of him soft and breathy before he comes, streaking over his stomach in pearly arcs. You watch him flinch at the contact, fingers slipping on your wrist. His chest flexes—in, out, in, out.

You collect a big scoop of pink frosting on your finger and dip it in the come starting to cool between his pecs before pressing it to his lips. L's brow wrinkles, startled—but he opens his lips and lets your fingers pass into the hot cavern of his mouth. Like a cat he licks your finger clean, pointed pink tongue prodding with no technique or flourish, just something steadfast, something stubborn.

You do him the dignity of tucking his softened cock back into his underwear and zipping up his jeans. Unsure how to proceed until L sits up rather abruptly. His hair is even more tousled from his tossing and turning as he reaches for a tissue to wipe himself down.

He looks at you. "I understand it's customary to offer some sort of equivalent exchange in these circumstances." A pause whilst he gathers his breath. "You'll have to forgive me. I'm not quite feeling up to the task."

His tone is normal, if a little shaky. You rock back on your heels. "Did you like it?"

L blinks at you. "My curiosity has been sated," he says, carefully. "Yes, I believe I did enjoy it."

Well, that's a relief if nothing else. The pink remnants of the strawberry cake it on the plate; the shade matches his blush.

#death note x reader #l lawliet x reader #l lawliet smut #death note smut #🫀.scribes #dom!reader #gn!reader

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fakescenariosbeforesleepblog · 1 month

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What did you just say? Pt. 2.

Aegon x FEM reader.

Aegon confronts his mother, the truth leaves his mouth as the fire leaves the snout of his dragon. To his surprise you don't share the same desires of being with him anymore.

Warning: maybe it wasn't as good as the first part lol. Grammatical and spelling errors, maybe a Dark obsessed Aegon at the end but nothing very serious.

Credits of these gifs to whoever they belong to

(...) The goblet In his hand flew to the other side of the room, tension filled the room, silence was uncomfortable, then, Aegon simply asked.

- What did you just say?

Poor servant, avoiding Aegon's look, he simply muttered and kneeled down.

- I... Said lady y/n is pregnant... please Forgive me my king, I beg for your pardon.

Aegon didn't understand why the servant was apologizing, he only rolled his eyes, he was furious, fire was running through his body.

- Get up and leave. ALL OF YOU, LEAVE! I need to talk with my mother. NOW!

Everybody left the room in an instant, Alicent was in the same place, she didn't move but was also avoiding to see her son.

- Look at me and tell me you didn't know about this, mother.

She looked at him but was speechless, there were no words.

- TELL ME YOU DIDN'T!

She felt fear, she was always behind him, she was always the one who reprimanded him, but right now, she's feeling like a little kid In trouble.

- Aegon, you have to understand...

- Understand what? Is it not enough that we're all dragged into this unhappy family, full of hypocrisy and sadness for all your decisions? Your decisions had taken us to misery, my sister is right, if you weren't so blind and full of hate against Rhaenyra our story would be different.

- This, is totally unfair, You have no idea of the sacrifices that were made to put you on that throne.

- A throne I never asked for! This is all your Father wants! You've been so blind, thinking you're doing all this because of the safety of the crown, your family and the kingdom when In fact, it is only that old man's desire, to see his own blood sitting on that stupid chair!

- ENOUGH!.

Aegon's point of view wasn't totally wrong, he always saw his grandfather as a spider knitting its web waiting for its prey, like a moth attracted to the brilliant things, waiting for the right moment to get inside and be around the warm and brightest light, an opportunist, that's how Aegon secretly always described his grandfather. He sighed, clearly annoyed.

-...When did you receive the news of her marriage?

- Months ago, I received a letter when she was betrothed to him... and later another one arrived with the news of her wedding, but I can promise you that I don't know nothing about her pregnancy, I doubt she is pregnant.

Her words are honest but not reassuring enough to calm Aegon.

- Do you see me, mother? Do you see how painful it is for me? This marriage with my own sister, this crown over my head that I never wanted. Your decisions had been brought pain not only for me but for my siblings too. You hate Rhaenyra for all the things you consider wrong and improper , but I've done all of them too, and you hide them and pretend we're the good ones, it's pure hypocrisy. Helaena could be happier if you accepted the proposal of marriage with Jace or even if you married her to Aemond she would be happier, I could be happier if I were married with (y/n) and you wouldn't have your youngest son far from you and his true home, but no... Here we are, with a war knocking on our door, our family crumbling and with my beloved In the arms of that fuckin' wolf In the north!

Alicent approached Aegon, trying to be a loving mother, her hands on Aegon's cheeks, she can see his eyes, there's anger, pain and deception. She's trying to convince him that your marriage can bring good things in his favor.

- Aegon, you cannot see it now, but the marriage of lady (y/n) with Cregan Stark could be useful, she will do anything you asked her, she will ally to us in this war if it's necessary. Your brothers will fight at your side and your wife and children will be there too.

Aegon gave a step back, neglecting with his head, his face only shows how disgusted he feels. He never expected kind words from her but also not this kind of poorly try to calm him down, at this point he feels like he's trapped, he's a little boy trapped in a man's body, he wants to run away from that room, he needs to calm himself before doing something he could regret later.

Suddenly, your voice and the memory of your face, your hands and the affection between you and him filled his mind. You were his safe place years ago and yet, he still thinks about you when he feels lost and suffocated.

He left the room while Alicent was yelling his name, some guards tried to go behind him but he stopped us, he only wanted a person close to him, You.

He arrived at the dragon's pitch, Sunfyre his precious Dragon sensed instantly Aegon's emotions and roared to let Aegon know it was ready to fly away with him.

And that's what they did, Aegon disappeared in the sky, the clouds covered them, it was possible to hear them but to see in what direction they went wasn't that easy.

You were in your chambers resting when one of your ladies appeared, pallid as snow.

- My lady. There's... A... A dragon landed not so far from the castle.

You sit on your bed quickly, it is not possible, you try to calm yourself thinking it can be any dragon.

- A dragon? Which one?

- I'm not sure, it looked like a golden dragon, shined like the sun.

No, no, no. The fear of seeing him after all this time has appeared and grown inside you.

- What do we have to do my lady?

- Bring my coat, we have to welcome our unexpected guest by our own since Cregan is not here.

As soon as you arrived at the hall of the castle, Aegon was already there, waiting.

- My... (You doubted) King. What do we owe the honor of your visit?

- Lady (y/n), I recently found out about your marriage, I merely came to give you my congratulations.

- Thank you, my king, I've been blessed with such a wonderful marriage with a good lord.

- Where's he?

- Hunting, we weren't expecting visitors or he would be here to give you a proper welcome.

- That's fine, lady (y/n) I would like to have a private audience with you.

You looked at your ladies and knights, you didn't say a word but they understood instantly and left you alone with Aegon.

- What are the real motives of your visit... My king?

- there's no need for such formalities (Y/n)...

- Well, tell me Aegon, what are you doing here?

- I came here... To take you with me.

You are in shock, while he is walking to you, getting more and more close.

- Pardon?

- Come with me, we will annul our marriages, now that I'm king, only my word is the law. We can finally marry as it was planned years ago.

You're still surprised, you haven't moved from your place, he doesn't wait and hugs you, you can feel his nose in the crook of your neck, it's just like when you were children, he was always hiding his face in your neck while you were hugging each other, it was innocent and pure. But you two are not children anymore, both are married now, he's father and king now, you're married and soon to be mother, you haven't bled In two moons or more, your breast started to grow and hurt a little, and all your ladies had told you you look different, more beautiful, Cregan said to you that being pregnant with a boy brings more beauty to some women.

You kindly stepped back, you will not leave your husband or your new home just for an old childhood love. Aegon doesn't look surprised by your reaction.

- You don't smell like the roses anymore, now you smell like forest and berries.

- I've changed, you don't smell like cotton and Oak either, you smell like ashes and sea. You've changed too, my king.

- Probably we changed, but I'm sure our feelings are still the same (y/n) please let's go, you don't belong here, your place is at my side... Please.

His pleading eyes are like knives in your heart, but there's no way this works, people will speak, your parents will abandon you, you know a war is coming and you know who your house will support. And there's Cregan, the man of your dreams, the one who took his time to know all about you, the man who patiently won your trust and your heart, he made you a promise under the God's tree, you did too and you will not break it.

- We're adults now, Aegon, those dreams were erased, I'm married and I love him, a wolf grows inside me, I will not leave nothing of this just for an old children's dream, I moved on.

Aegon's eyes are full of tears, you're breaking his heart, but someone needs to be right-minded. You're observing him with sadness and pity while him is remembering what Alicent told him. You would do anything he asked you, maybe his mother is right, if he can't have you as wife, at least he can have you as an ally.

- I understand, you're right, I'm being a fool and I ask you to forgive me.

- It's okay Aegon...

You held his hand and squeezed it, he's contemplating the small interaction and then he looks into your eyes.

- I want to ask you for something else too.

- Go on, tell me.

- People say a war is coming, my question or the favor I want to ask for, is, will your house and the north join me?

You know the answer to that, you know your house and the north decisions are, even you have your own decision. Maybe you can avoid this uncomfortable moment.

- Aegon... I beg for your pardon but I cannot decide the loyalty of my house or my husband's house on my own. If you wish, you can stay and wait, my husband and I will discuss and consider your proposition.

He smiled at you, certainly he's not pleased with your response, he simply whispered in your ear.

- You're a terrible liar, Lady (Y/n), your decision is already taken, isn't it?... Don't worry, I forgive you, but remember this, After I win this war, I'll be back here and I'll take you with me, I will not have the kindness to ask for your permission or opinion, I will be back for you.

He left a kiss in your cheek and your hand, then he left without saying anything else, the roaring of a dragon echoed through the castle, your ladies appeared just in time to catch you, you fainted.

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mrs-kmikaelson · 10 months

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07| The Tribrid

Pairing: Klaus Mikaelson x daughter!reader, Marcel Gerard x mostly platonic!reader Summary: Trying to figure out a way to get Klaus to trust you, you reminisce over the past and how trust was earned in a similar situation. Warnings: none Words: 3.7K

Masterlist

a/n: does anyone know how i can fix the gifs from like not centring? it looks fine on my laptop but horrible on mobile😭

NEW ORLEANS, 1970

Strobe lights went all across the room, music blaring, but I could barely tell what song was playing, too distracted by what I was doing—or, rather, who I was about to do. I ran my fingers through his hair while his hand crept up my skirt, our kiss getting more passionate by the second.

His name didn't matter. All I cared about was the fun we were about to have.

"Why don't we take this somewhere more private," he mumbled in between kisses.

I nodded against him, giving him one last kiss before whispering in his ear. "Back alley." The fact that I was drunk didn't stop me from leading us across the dance floor to the back where I'd been many times before. I knew the owner—who was also a really good kisser—and so I knew where to go.

I felt the cold air hit us as soon as we got outside, despite feeling so hot. As soon as the door closed, I turned around, intending on pulling him back in for a kiss, but I almost staggered back when I saw the same man I was kissing just moments ago with veins crawling underneath his eyes, fangs protruding in his mouth.

What the fuck?

I quickly sobered up, baring my own fangs at him. The atmosphere went from hot and sexy to dark in an instant.

His eyes widened. While his voice was surprised, there was still an undertone of hostility. "You're a vampire?"

I narrowed my eyes. "You didn't know?" God, how drunk was he? I smelt that he was a night crawler immediately. Clearly, he thought I was a human and wanted to leave so he could suck me dry.

That wasn't happening. For obvious reasons.

He cursed under his breath. For a second, I thought we'd get back to what we were doing; I mean, I just cleared this up. I was gonna be generous and continue to make out with him in spite of the fact that he just tried to kill me, but this dude just had to kill my fun, too.

He tried charging at me, but my magic worked faster than even vamp speed. Quickly, I rushed, "Motus!" and he was sent flying into the wall. My eyes widened. Fuckkkkkk, man.

I just wanted to get laid.

I wasn't supposed to do that. I was supposed to punch him, maybe snap his neck—I was supposed to do something that a vampire would do. A vampire doesn't just move things with their mind.

I thought I was soberer than that, but it seemed that the alcohol was still affecting me because I just sent a fucking vampire flying. Shock was all over the guy's face, his pretty, pretty face that I just wanted to have a good time with.

Fuck. Now I'd have to kill him.

He remained against the wall, but he didn't wait much longer before firing questions at me. "What the hell was that-"

I cut him off, "Look, man, I wasn't planning on doing a lot of talking with you tonight." Annoyance laced my voice. He didn't respond as quickly, just looking at me with an extremely analyzing gaze. I didn't doubt that he was confused. People don't just come across people like me.

He was silent until it looked like a light bulb went off in his head. "Tribrid," he muttered under his breath, almost like I wasn't meant to hear it, but I did.

My blood went cold. "What did you just say?" I asked, but he ignored me, continuing to mutter under his breath.

"I knew a guy once—he was half wolf, half vampire." If he didn't have my attention before, he sure as hell did now. Because I only knew one person that matched that description, and that was Klaus Mikaelson.

My body went rigid while the guy took little notice, seeming to put together a bunch of puzzle pieces in his head. "Yeah-" he paused, looking up at me, "I've heard chatter. Witches saying something about a... triangle: werewolf, vampire... and witch."

Chatter? He's heard chatter? A thousand things went through my mind at once. That was impossible. Nobody knew about me. I just got to this city; there was no way witches have managed to decipher a secret I've spent centuries keeping.

Against my will, my tone was now less calm. "I don't know what you're-"

"I think you do know what I'm talking about." The guy's eyes were hard as he stared right back at me. I thought he was just some baby vamp, but it appeared that he was proving me wrong. He took a step closer to me. "You're the tribrid, aren't you?"

I almost laughed, even though I was full of nerves while, just seconds ago, I was fine. "You must have a death wish," I remarked. Maybe I could've left him alone, convinced him to forget about my display of magic and just left town. But now he not only saw that, but he also knew exactly who I was and he'd go running to tell everyone else.

He had to go. It's a shame, though, I thought, he was such a good kisser.

I stepped closer to him and he immediately got the message, eyes widening again once he realized that I had the upper hand. "No, no," he said, raising his hands in surrender. "I promise you; you do not want to kill me."

I scoffed, "And why is that?"

"Listen, I hold a lot of influence around here-"

I scoffed again. "I really don't care." Throwing power around was a politician's move, and politicians only lied to you. I wasn't gonna take my chances.

I was walking towards him, taking one step forward for every step he took back until he blurted, "My name is Marcel Gerard." At this, I stopped. Marcel Gerard... I knew that name. I stood still, racking my brain until I realized why his name sounded so familiar.

Marcel Gerard literally ruled this city. I'd been in New Orleans for not even a few days yet you could hear vampires and witches alike mentioning him often.

Damnit. Of course, I not only meet the guy who the vampires in this city worship, but I also end up locking lips with him and have him find out what I am.

I just wanted to have fun.

He saw recognition on my face, causing his own to light up. "So, you know who I am." I nodded in response, exasperatedly rolling my eyes. All of this had completely caused my buzz to dissipate into thin air. "Look..." he trailed off, making a gesture with his hands.

I rolled my again. "Y/N."

"Look, Y/N, I know what you are. I figured it out in seconds. There's already speculation of a tribrid going around with the witches-"

"Get to the fucking point, Marcel, before I just decide to kill you. Believe me, I am not in the mood to deal with this right now."

He didn't waste any more time. "I can get the witches to back off and find something else to fixate on. I can bury just the thought of a tribrid being out there, Y/N," he emphasized.

I wonder just how dumb he thought I was. I shook my head. "So you want me not to kill you, just so you can go blab to whoever you see as soon as I leave you alone?" He shook his head right back at me.

"I won't say a thing, trust me." He paused. "We can help each other."

"Oh, c'mon-"

"No, I'm being serious," he asserted, no longer looking like he was backed into a corner but much more assured than before. "Killing me wouldn't do you any good. My people would search relentlessly for my killer, and the witches would only keep digging, possibly striking gold at some point. You keep me alive, and I can get rid of that for you."

I only stared at him with narrow eyes. He looked confident in the bar, that's what drew me to him, but I wasn't expecting anything like this. He had a point, but that didn't mean it was enough to stop me from killing him. And if I didn't like this city, then I'd kill him without any qualms and leave. But I do like this city. I want to stay here, and I knew I couldn't stay here with him dead and with the witches suspicious.

I couldn't afford to make enemies. Right now, what I needed were friends.

I'd already made up my mind, but Marcel didn't know that, still trying to get me to see a vision that I already understood. "We can make a good team, Y/N."

I didn't say anything for a few more seconds, thinking everything over in my mind. I could possibly be making the biggest mistake of my life right now, I thought. But I was already set. I kept my voice cold and devoid of emotion. "I'm giving you twenty-four hours to make this witch thing go away, Marcel."

A weight was lifted off his shoulders. "And I'll do just that." I wasn't gonna stick around much longer. This was already much more conversation than I was anticipating to have tonight, and we clearly weren't gonna have sex, so without another thought, I sped out of the alley.

Little did I know, that night marked the start of one of the rest of my life in New Orleans.

THE PRESENT

I was pulled out of my reverie when I saw Marcel came into my vision, sitting down on the chair opposite to me. We started out trying to kill each other, and now look: we were meeting for coffee.

I didn't trust him when I first met him, even after he made my problems with the witches disappear. That wasn't enough. And it also wasn't enough for him to insist I work with him. Those were things he was doing for his own benefit, so, of course, that didn't inspire my trust in him.

I only started trusting Marcel after he opened up to me about his past. Doing that, getting vulnerable with someone—that showed that you trusted them. And what better way to get someone to trust you than to show that you trust them?

I wasn't just reminiscing for the sake of it. The way Marcel got me to trust him was what I'd been forgetting throughout all my interactions with Klaus. I couldn't just ask him to trust blindly, the same way Marcel couldn't ask me to, or the same way I couldn't get the witches to.

I needed a show of good faith. The trick was just figuring out what.

"Hey, Y/N/N."

I nodded back to Cellie's greeting, pushing a tumbler over to his side of the table. While I actually liked coffee, Marcel wasn't a fan. "Got you your drink."

He grinned. "Ah, have I told you how much I love you recently?"

"Definitely not enough," I quipped back. "Now drink." His smile only got wider as he brought the tumbler up to his lips, sipping from his blood while I worked at finishing my Americano.

It's been about a week since I gave the contract to Klaus and went out with Marcel and Cami, who were now accepting the title of "dating" (after lots of resistance from Cami's side). Things have otherwise been quiet. I've been over to the Abattoir a few times to speak with Elijah, sometimes speaking to Hayley, and rarely talking to Klaus, but everything was fine if you didn't count the fact that he was still staring at me every time I came over.

You'd think that I'd be the one behaving that way after constantly seeing my father, his baby mama, and his brother, but nope. I've been calm; the whole Mikaelson thing has been getting to me less, but Klaus would look at me like he was trying to pick apart everything I said or did.

Sooner or later, it wouldn't matter how well I kept my secret. He was just gonna keep digging, so I needed to stop him before he struck gold.

"How's D been doing?" He asked, and the Mikaelsons were instantly pushed to the back of my mind. Davina had that effect.

"She's been good. Doing her school work, getting better with her magic by the day. You should come by for dinner soon, actually."

"Yeah, I-" he cut himself off when a "ping" sounded. He glanced down at his phone on the table, muttering a curse under his breath. When he looked back up at me, his expression was a mix of annoyance at the disturbance and apology. "Sorry, Y/N/N, I've gotta-"

"No, no, it's fine," I told him. "Go on and deal with it." He gave me a silent thank you before getting up, kissing my cheek in parting.

"I'll make it up to you. Dinner at mine," he said, walking away backwards. I smiled, telling him I'd see him later, and then he was out the door. Although we'd been sitting for all of one minute before he had to go, I wasn't irritated. He was getting back into the groove with the Quarter's happenings, so I'd be fully supportive.

I got up, throwing my empty coffee cup into the trash and walking out of the little café, mentally running over my schedule: housekeeping, then dinner with Marcel and Davina later. Right now, I'd go game plan my pitch to the vampires.

Or not.

Just as I was about to cross the street, a black car abruptly skirted in front of me, making me jump back. Before I could make anything of it, two men stepped out of it. Their expressions were practically lifeless, not a trace of emotion in sight.

"Get into the car," one of them ordered, causing me to furrow my brows. What the fuck?

I voiced my concerns not a moment later. "Excuse me?"

The other one stepped forward as if he was threatening me. I looked him up and down. Who the fuck was he stepping to like that? "Ma'am, you're gonna need to get into the car willingly before we force you to."

Force me to? I only stared at him, debating on whether or not I was gonna bash his head into the car he was threatening me to get into in front of any passers-by. I was then reminded of the exact thing I was on my way to work on: the peace pacts. If I exacted any violence, that wouldn't be setting the right example.

Still, though, I was tempted.

After a few seconds of eying them both, I realized I not only knew them, but I also understood what was happening here.

These were some of Marcel's old vampires.

And they were compelled.

Damnit. I glanced to the car behind them. I was willing to bet money that, inside that very car, sat Klaus. I rolled my eyes. A week ago, I would've been more put off by this, and I was, but I was more annoyed than anything.

I'd find some way to get him to trust me later, but if I didn't get into this car right now, then he'd only become even more suspicious of me, and I didn't need that.

I shook my head in disbelief that I was even gonna do this, gesturing for them to move so I could get into the car. One of them opened the back door for me and I got in.

I turned to my left, fully expecting Klaus to be sitting next to me, but instead I was met with the sight of a blonde with big, voluminous curls and bright blue eyes. Despite fitting into the dumb blonde mold exactly, I knew she was anything but.

This was Rebekah Mikaelson.

I (hopefully) hid my shock quickly, but my eyes still narrowed. My mind raced, wondering what the hell she could possibly want from me. I first jumped to conclusions, but I shut them down immediately, knowing that there was no way anyone knew I was related to the Mikaelsons, including the Mikaelsons themselves.

While I'd been visiting the Abattoir often, Rebekah was basically nowhere to be found. I never would've guessed that this was how I'd be meeting her, being pushed into a car by vampires acting like they were secret service. But, with the Mikaelsons, so far nothing has gone as I expected it.

When she turned to me, she didn't stop and observe me first like her brother did. I'd learned from my research that Rebekah Mikaelson was impulsive, possibly even more so than Klaus. So it didn't surprise me when she cut right to the chase.

"You must be Y/N," she said. Her voice sounded like honey and a smile was on her lips, but it didn't take rocket science to know that it was all an act. "I'm Rebekah Mikaelson, but I'm sure you're already aware of that."

I was. And so I said that. "I am."

She hummed at my response, indirectly reminding me so much of Klaus. She pressed a button to her side, causing the partition to roll up, never looking away from me once. Her smile then quickly dropped. "What are you doing with Marcel?"

Now, I couldn't hide the surprise on my face. "What?"

"You heard me," she asserted, unwilling to elaborate any further and just continuing to look at me, waiting for a reply.

Out of all the reasons she could've pulled me into this car, that one had never even crossed my mind. I paused for a few seconds, thinking over how I'd respond. I knew Rebekah and Marcel had history, and Rebekah had created a reputation for herself as not only being a lover, but a rather possessive one.

Saying the wrong thing here could get me into a tight situation I did not want to be in, so I had to be sure that my words wouldn't piss her off. "He's my friend," I told her, but she didn't look very convinced.

"Really?" She questioned, sarcasm noticeable in her voice. "Are you so cozy with all of your friends? Because you both looked rather close in that café." So she was watching us.

I backtracked, remembering how he kissed me on the cheek on his way out. I see how that could look bad to some people, especially his ex-girlfriend who seemed much more attached to him than he let on. From the way Marcel told the story, him and Rebekah were over, but the way she was acting didn't suggest that at all.

Suddenly, Camille was brought to the forefront of my mind. "We are close," I defended. "I've known him a long time, and we're just friends." I could've left it there—should've left it there, but with Cami on my mind I couldn't help but add, "Besides, he has a girlfriend."

Rebekah narrowed her eyes at me; although, something told me she was already conscious of that little fact. Her jaw tensed, making me more alert. While Elijah and even Klaus wouldn't immediately deal with their problems physically, I knew Rebekah was a different story.

She was smart, don't get me wrong, but if there was something to know about her it was that her emotions overpowered her mind more often than not. She was impulsive, and so this could go real bad, real quick.

I had to get out of this.

I decided to just say something instead of letting her make the first move. If I said something first, then I could take control of the situation and spin it before she could.

"Look," I started. "Marcel and I have a completely platonic relationship." Well, not completely, but I wasn't gonna tell her that. "After we met, I was just helping him keep things running smoothly in the Quarter, the same thing I'm doing with your family now."

While her expression remained blank, I could tell I was swaying her in the right direction. She just needed one last push. "We talk so often because of Davina. She's important to both of us, and we just want to make sure she gets the childhood she deserves." Her eyes immediately softened, and I knew I got her.

Davina was just a child. As ruthless as Rebekah could be, she still had humanity inside her—Marcel had told me this time and time again when he was under the influence. There was something in her that he fell for, and it was her ability to care when she really wanted to.

She finally looked away from me. "I understand," she said. If I knew anything about her, then I knew she was probably embarrassed right now. It turned out that Rebekah's emotional nature had actually helped, not harmed. "Sorry for the inconvenience," she apologized, but her eyes never met mine.

She rolled the partition back down, telling the driver to stop the car and unlock the doors. "You're free to go, Y/N." I stared at her for a few seconds, wondering if there was anything else I was supposed to say, but I came up empty. So I just got out of the car and watched as they drove away right after.

Once I could no longer see the car, I let out a breath I didn't even know I was holding.

I just met Rebekah Mikaelson.

And I just barely dodged a bullet. I directed my thoughts away from freaking out because I just met yet another member of my family to how I was gonna fix the problem I had.

I couldn't keep tiptoeing on this tight-rope around the Mikaelsons. Sooner or later, I'd fall. I needed to do something to get them, all of them, to trust me. If they caught me at the right time, then everything could be exposed.

I had all of these thoughts running through my mind until a light bulb went off, and all of the puzzle pieces suddenly assembled themselves into a clear picture.

I knew what to do.

I had my show of good faith.

Taglist: @scrynexxtins @thisnameistaken1234 @honestlycasualarcade @xlittlestarling @thatgirljas13 @rosecentury

#klaus mikealson fanfiction #klaus mikaelson x reader #klaus x daughter!reader #tvd fandom #tvdu #the originals #klaus mikaelson #marcel gerard #rebekah mikaelson #the mikaelsons #elijah mikaelson #davina claire #tvd fanfic #imagines #tvd imagine #the vampire diaries

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kaisaniku · 4 months

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I finally finished the second chapter of this doodle comic!

Basically from a translation machine:

It's called notes, but it's really bullshit time:

(I didn't put any asterisks in the "text" in order to make the picture cleaner and not make this little comic seem too serious)

①WX says that their body "doesn't have any of those really advanced things" and that "the concept is just bionic", which might make you wonder how WX can agree with their own shortcomings when they are always been so confident in their own machine body. This is kind of a guess: WX's comments in the wiki about Wagstaff being "afraid of progress" and "short-sighted", combined with WX's usual machine-worshiping and violent tendencies, such as their comments about Maxwell "He has that kind of power but he doesn't go out and destroy human". So it's an offense to them, but they actually agree that even though they claim to be superior, I guess WX would like to see their bodies more advanced and even more radical.

② Yes, this WX has acceleration circuits installed.

③ Gnome get✓ Do you guys remember the line where WX checks the Gnome

④ "You're not as kind as you look", how should I put this one, because the Wilson I understand is more or less with a little bit of darkness in his mind, he's someone who is full of emotions but often restrains them with reason, he fears and hates the negative impulses and instincts within himself. And this trait I think probably comes from his good nature, his education and survival experiences and the influence of the Shadow Throne. (But honestly after suffering in CONSTANT for so long, it's normal for whoever it is to be a little psychologically unhinged, not to mention the SANITY setting.) And after WX's soulwalking, they easily have some "psychic empathy" with Wilson... ...... Well, how did that happen Wilson?

⑤ Well I know the reasoning of the empathy module episode is weird ...... In fact, it's mainly because when I drew this plot I didn't have a good understanding of the empathy module, and simply thought of it as something like "emotional deficiency", so this episode was supposed to be Wilson saying "why do I still feel emotional ups and downs blabla" and then WX explaining that it's because of "memories of emotional experiences", which would have made a lot more sense.

⑥I guess it's my own personal setting: although the game doesn't make a distinction, I don't think WX as a robot would have a "headache and blurred vision due to lack of sanity". The system will be affected, sure, but the physiology won't necessarily feel it. It's hard to go from luxury to frugality, and since there is no experience in the eternal realm in the human era, WX can't adapt to the negative impacts of sanity reduction at all.

⑦Wilson's curiosity and desire to explore and then equipped with WX's hardware strength is simply ON FIRE. and "adapting to the human body so quickly" this conclusion mainly comes from the last chapter when the two people just transformed the body, Wilson's side is very difficult, while the WX on the contrary, it seems to be very easy. Even when they suddenly possessed internal organs, blood, light weight and so on, there was no adverse reaction. Wilson, who loves to observe, has always had suspicions (sorry however I didn't draw this clue out)

⑧ on the one hand, just learned a shocking secret, excited and energetic Wilson, on the other hand is the history of the exposure, and is also experiencing unprecedented headache WX. so the two temperament is not quite the same as usual.

⑨ "Wiped of most of their human memories" from the game's credits: "Suddenly recalling the memories of his past life, WX-78 soon decides to change his fate on his own."

⑩ Those of you who have fought Shadow creatures online might know that the only way a teammate's Shadow creature will have hatred for you is if you've forcibly attacked them. What happened here is that WX forced an attack on Wilson's Shadow Creature (except that Wilson was still relying on his headache of empirical judgment and didn't realize that his SANITY was too low), and then WX's own shadow creatures that were looming all showed up as well, which is why it became so much more. I don't have a very comprehensive understanding of this mechanic online though, and it doesn't seem to be very rigorous, so that's probably what it is anyway.

I accidentally added a lot more, mainly because of the limited ability to express the drawing ... Hope you enjoy!

#don't starve #don't starve together #dst #wxson #dst wilson #wilson p. higgsbury #dst wx78 #wx78

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spiderluvbot · 1 year

Text

𝗠𝗜𝗗𝗗𝗟𝗘 𝗢𝗙 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗡𝗜𝗚𝗛𝗧 ─── 🇪🇹🇭🇦🇳 🇱🇦🇳🇩🇷🇾.

genre: angst, hurt/comfort, smut.

pairing(s): spiderman!ethan landry x fem!reader.

words: 2.2k

warnings: mdni, unprotected p in v (don't do that), cockwarming, mentions of blood, descriptive wounds.

author's note: based on this request.

it took me a long time to post this since it's the first smut i write and i have no idea if it's good or not but it tried my best, i surprisingly like the first part. i have a sort of prequel in mind so if anyone would like that let me know.

You could still remember the first time you helped Ethan, you had just come back from work when you got welcomed by the sight of your window broken and a trail of blood going down the wall. At the time you hadn't known it was him and expected the worst, after all, new york wasn't the safest of places. That day not only had you given your favorite superhero a concussion, you had also found out he happened to be the boy Tara had been trying to set you up with.

There wasn't much you could do at the time considering that he was passed out and you only had some rubbing alcohol and like three band-aids, but in his moments of lucidness he wouldn't let you take him to a hospital, so you made do with what you had and proceeded to buy a first aid kit the day after, just in case. By the third month of your relationship this had become usual, you spent many nights convincing your boyfriend to come to you so he wouldn't die of blood loss on someone's rooftop (or infect his wounds due to not properly taking care of them). You had even taken a course, making your friends confused as to why you were suddenly worried about knowing everything there was to know about nursing.

Now, a year after finding out his secret, it had become almost a ritual for him to visit you after a night of patrolling. Your window stayed open like every other night, the cool spring breeze coming through as you waited for him and tried not to think about the fact that he was two hours late. Your eyes kept glancing from your homework to the time displayed on your computer screen and you wondered if your little tradition would be broken today.

Dropping your pencil, you sigh and grab your phone. The leg you were mindlessly dangling seconds ago now bouncing rapidly while you questioned if you should call him, finally deciding against it because you know he won't pick up if he's patrolling, that he never takes his phone with him.

Looking outside only makes you more anxious, the sky is too dark and the lights do little to no help in illuminating the streets. Your hand stretches towards the bed and you grab his jacket —the one he complains you keep stealing but always happens to 'forget' in your house— and put it on while you make your way to the fire escape.

The sight isn't much better once you're out, if you look down you can see that the street is almost empty, only a few people wandering about.

It feels like another hour passes with you waiting for him and your fear of what could have happened gets bigger and bigger by the minute, until you feel like it will eat you from the inside.

But no sign of Ethan.

You hear the sound first, and despite your eyes getting teary you tell yourself that it could be anything, anyone, else. A few police cars appear from around the corner, followed closely by two ambulances. The loud sirens make your head pound, and the lights are blurry through your tears. It feels like a bad dream, like one of those nightmares where you're falling and wake up before you hit the ground but the impact still follows you, or like those moments when you miss a step and those few seconds of uncertainty create a void deep in you guts that swallows you hole.

Your steps resonate as you make your way back inside and pick up your phone once again and dial his number, hoping that this time he decided to listen to you and carry his phone with him, or that he picks up and tells you he forgot to visit you because he was too tired and went back home, or that at least Chad is there to tell you if he knows anything.

"You need to start locking your windows." His voice sounds different, less laid back than usual, and the brief calmness that it brings to you immediately dissipates once you turn around.

There are three large gashes on his right shoulder and another one on his chest, you can see the skin on his side turning a purplish black from where a part of his suit has been ripped off and the smell of smoke and something acrid reaches your nose the second the wind picks up again. His face isn't much better, he has a busted lip, one of his cheekbones has a deep cut and the other looks even worse than his side, there's blood staining his hair and you're pretty sure his nose is broken.

He limps to the bed and you silently enter the bathroom to get the supplies you need to help him. At this point, you don't ask what happened, you know if you do you won't get more than a 'you don't wanna know'. He keeps telling you that the less you know the safer you are, and even if you don't agree you don't say anything, the way he doesn't say anything and allows you to take care of him when he would rather go home and not keep you awake at three am every time he's hurt.

Ethan is trying to take the suit off when you come back, the fabric peels off of his body like a second skin and leaves behind dirt and blood. With the top half gone you can see the smell from before came from a burned patch of his back.

The routine follows as usual. He sits against the headboard, firm hands on your hips pull you onto his lap and you asses the damage, soft hands grazing him as lightly as the wind does and stopping once in a while to push his hair out of his face. And then, you get to work.

You take care of the bigger wounds first, thankfully he has already started healing so there is no need to stitch him. You check for broken ribs and after making sure they healed completely you move on to his face. He doesn't let you do much, you disinfect the cuts just like you always do and in the meantime, he dries your tears and sneaks a few kisses from you.

Getting up, you take his hand and pull him back to the bathroom, he takes his time cleaning himself while you get rid of the dirty cotton swabs laying around and change the sheets, and then when he gets out you both get into some clean pajamas before you make him sit again so you can put some pain reliever on his back.

He looks pensive, his eyes focused on the calm back and forth of the curtains as his back tenses at the cold wet feeling against his skin.

"You really do need to start locking your windows."

"Oh, but then I wouldn't get any special visits from my favorite superhero."

Your voices are quiet, only heard in the tiny bubble of the space you share as you try to lighten the mood.

"I'm your favorite?" He grins, starting to feel the stress of the night leave him. "You know, you don't have to do this, it'll heal in the morning."

"I know," You step in between his legs and start applying the cream to his side, which is already turning a mix between yellow and green. "But I like to help."

You turn the lights off once you're done and join him in the bed where both of you get ready to sleep. He pulls you to his chest and your eyes focus on the scar already starting to form there, his deep breaths lulling you to sleep as your finger traces small hearts around it.

You're almost asleep when the sensation of cold fingers caressing your waist sends shivers running down your spine, almost feeling like a ghost touch in your tired state. Your heavy eyelids stop you from properly looking at the hand, but you can feel it rising, slowly making its way under your top. Your lips start leaving a few lazy kisses on his jaw as he turns to lie on top of you and gets comfortable between your legs, his body weighing you down and his lips chasing yours, only separating for him to take your shirt off.

His hands grope your chest as he makes his way down, the contrast between the cold wind and the warmth of his mouth wrapping around your nipple sends shivers down your spine as his fingers pinch the other one. You can feel him getting hard against your inner thigh, his hips starting to move while his free hand toys with the elastic of your pants, teasing until your desperate hips lift from the bed to meet his and the sighs leaving you turn into whimpers.

"I've never been more grateful for super healing" You roll your eyes and let out a small giggle as he smiles before crashing his lips against yours, his mouth catching the moan that leaves you when his hand goes past your pants. His fingers tease your folds, caressing through the wet fabric of your underwear while he mouths at your throat, sucking and grazing before the flat of his tongue soothes the sensitive skin. Your knuckles turn white as you grasp the sheets and press yourself harder to him in a poor attempt to gain more friction.

Ethan decides to have mercy on you and quickly removes the rest of your clothes, his own following immediately after. Your hands push on his chest, forcing the two of you to switch places, and his fingers dig into your waist forcing you to grind your core against him.

His big brown eyes are hazed with lust, barely making you out through the dark and only focusing once you hold his face in your hands and offer him a sweet smile, catching the way you seem to shine with the moonlight. You lean down and kiss him hard, teeth clashing until you bite his lip and he welcomes your tongue as it explores his mouth.

Your hand travels down his chest and you can feel him shudder as you stroke him, his hips twitching forward once run your thumb over his tip. He stops your hand from moving, groaning as he sits and pulls you closer, guiding himself to enter you. The burn of the stretch makes you moan against his ear and his arms surround you as he waits for you to get used to him and presses open-mouthed kisses on your throat to distract you.

Slowly, you start grinding your hips against him, and the light vibration of his hums against your skin makes you clench his length. Your arms loop around his neck, the side of your head pressing to the top of his own, your hands caressing his hair while he continues to leave marks on your neck.

It's not long before his grip gets stronger, nails digging into you as he quickens the pace of your hips rolling against his, thrusting upwards and bitting down your shoulder in a poor attempt to quiet the desperate groans leaving his mouth. Your head falls back as a high-pitched gasp leaves your mouth at the feeling of his thumb circling your clit at a fast pace, the knot in your stomach getting tighter by the second.

Ethan looks up at you and the moonlight allows you to see how his dilated warm brow eyes stare timidly at you, always worried and shy, no matter how many times the two of you have been together. He tries not to close his eyes as he becomes a whimpering mess underneath you, pulling you closer to him until he can press his forehead against yours, a loud moan getting lost in the space in between as he finally comes.

You can feel him twitch inside of you, the warmth of his cum mixed with his thumb pressing harder finally pushing you over the edge. He softly rolls your hips as you ride out your orgasms, his ragged breaths mixing with your own as he shuts his eyes, chest heaving as he places the pillows against the headboard and lies down. You stop him from pulling out and lazily lay down on his chest, leaving small kisses wherever you can reach.

His hands travel back and forth through your back, stopping once in a while to comb his fingers through your hair. He leaves soft kisses on the crown of your head, smiling at how you try to muffle your laughs by pressing your face to his chest.

"I love you."

The slight sliver of sunshine creates a small halo around your head as you lift yourself to look at him and your small, tender hands hold his jaw while your fingers roam his face, grazing the places where hours ago cuts and bruises faced you.

You give him a small, tired smile and lean down, planting a kiss on his lips. "I love you too."

The two of you spend the rest of the morning in bed, watching the sun rise as you whisper sweet nothings in each other's ears, and then falling asleep as the rest of the city wakes up.

#ethan landry x reader #ethan landry x fem!reader #ethan landry x you #spiderman!ethan landry #ethan landry #scream 6 #scream vi #spiderman au #💌#ethan.txt

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danger-bird · 2 months

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Touchstarved Astrology Headcanons🌠

Mostly based on my own irl observations over the years, as well as my bookworm era a few years ago . Also taking into account my own impressions & feelings for the LIs, so sufficiently biased and I'm not sorry. In the words of Danny DeVito: "I'm right, you're wrong, and there's nothing you can do about it!" /lovingly❤️

Ais

Venus in Virgo. Period. I'm dying on this hill. Fight me. No but fr, first he's a diehard animal lover and will jump into a dog fight to save a puppy. Second, he's giving "mother hen" behavior - says "watch your step", then grabs you when you trip and scolds you "told you to watch your step"(Virgo 101); sends you off with an ESCORT, jumps in fists first when the roughneck tries fighting you then hides you from the purple gang later and escorts you back himself - need I say more? Not to mention he VERY likely helped Kuras save us (his scent lingers in the clinic when MC wakes up), and helps in the clinic regularly (so a part-time nurse, most likely helped save Mhin too). Also, he was definitely watching over us even before the Seaspring (the scarred woman knew our name from somewhere, also the Unnamed can feel Ocudeus' presence outside the clinic). He craves taking care of someone - people, animals, soulless, poor unfortunate souls - you name it. And it's not for show - that's just how he is. That's how he shows love - by being attentive. All my favorite people have this placement, they're all like him in this regard - best Venus placement imo (yes, I'm a biased Venus in Taurus, BUT I'm also right, lol)

Scorpio Ascendant I mean... come on. Come on. He's LITERALLY a gang leader! Not that anybody needs convincing, but aside from the sharp, intense eyes and the fact he oozes sex appeal, this would place his Sun in 10th House- he is known publicly as a leader, his presence demands respect and attracts attention. BDE for sure. Also he's very smart, intuitive and observant. Very aware of his surroundings, can pick up on people's moods & intentions like it's nothing. I'm convinced he can literally read our mind. A smart, sexy and caring bastard, lord help me...

Kuras

Virgo Signature sign Kuras is very service-oriented, focused on helping the community and always looking for ways to assist others. Very mindful of people’s problems and what they’re in need of - and ready to provide it, no matter what it may cost him. He’s also very polite, but comes off rigid, like he’s read “Social Etiquette for Humans 101” and is following it to the letter lol. Also kinda nerdy – has his special interests, and if you let him he’ll talk about reductions and concoctions all day, every day. I don't think it's a specific placement that influences this behavior, it's the whole picture, thus - a signature sign!

Saturn Dominant This man is a Capricorn already, sure, but there’s a difference. Capricorn placements have an inner spark, a fire about them – they’re ambitious and driven while being practical and disciplined. Saturn, however, is a dry and dark, malefic - almost apocalyptic planet. It’s the last visible planet – the gatekeeper of the divine knowledge (depicted by the outer planets). It represents time, boundaries, a sense of duty and responsibility, guilt and the consequences of one's actions. A symbol of Kronos and the Devil, it represents the falling of God, the grotesque expression of divinity. Kuras has a curious mind, fascinated by science and humanity, and in light of the Kuras character lore (and his not-too-subtle mischievousness) he def has strong Uranus & Jupiter influence as well. But the Saturnian themes in particular parallel the themes and main conflict in his story most strongly.

Mercury Retrograde I had to. The way he's so precise and eloquent, but roundabout when he talks? How he's so tight-lipped and takes his sweet time before answering a question? Mercury retrograde, 100 percent. I don't make the rules.

Mhin

Moon in 1st House. How do I know? I have it. The color of printer paper (the sun hates us), emotions written all over their entire existence and impossible to hide, as well as rather intense emotional outbursts? Yes, yes and yes. Big-time tsundere? Yes. Big softy, too? Yes. We could be twins, honestly. I stg they have a crush on Ais, but unlike with Kuras they're not happy about it. I dunno, call it twin telepathy. The Christmas photo doesn't help either.

Water moon, most likely in Cancer. Not Scorpio, because their emotions fluctuate rapidly, and are overtly moody. The difference between big waves and a rip current, for example. But more so, this makes for a Sun-Moon square - the dissonance and lack of harmony between their outer persona and their inner needs and desires is clear. They have difficulty expressing their emotions, not difficulty as in showing them, but in a way where they come off wrong and get interpreted the wrong way. Very protective, like a smol soft crabbie shielding themselves with their shell. Pushes people away consciously, but hoping for someone to have enough of a "spine" to handle them and protect them, giving them a safe space to finally relax. Most of all they need love, reassurance and acceptance (my poor little meow meow💙)

Mars square Mercury That Mercury is in Aries, you can't tell me otherwise. The extra 'angry' coming from Mars in Capricorn is helping, too. But not only that, it also makes a square to their Sun AND an opposition to their Moon - a T-square, a highly difficult & stressful configuration. The Mars is in Capricorn because they like a partner with authority and attitude (Cap in 7th), and it makes for good synastry with Kuras (my cutie patooties). Also for how small they are, they're very agile and skilled with knifes (ruled by Mars).

Leander

Venus conjunct Pluto. Sexy. Magnetic. He pulls you in with the gravitational force of his tits. These people are the definition of an intense lover. Obsessive and hungry for love - and pain, equally, very big on extreme and overwhelming sensations. You have a terrible curse? Oooh, danger - gimme! You can never give them too much attention - they want it all, and they're not sharing. Possessive, wants to draw you into their little world and keep you for themselves.

Leo Ascendant, for a few reasons. I was initially thinking Libra, but after looking at everything, I decided on Leo. He has a noble presence - not surprising considering his upbringing. He's a very charismatic talker, well-spoken, lovely voice, can charm anyone into trusting him (Libra in 3rd coming through). To his credit, he takes his work seriously and comes off as a reliable boss (Cap in 6th, also Taurus in 10th). He wants to take care of people... or rather, wants to be seen as a savior. I really see him as a Gemini-Cancer cusp, but technically he's a Cancer so his sun will be in 12th house. It’s a house of self-undoing, the afterlife, illusions - ego and reality go to disintegrate here. All that connects into the life-and-death theme surrounding him and his design. The sun here becomes a fantasy, a goal rather than reality – a dream of being a leader, a hero, someone who people look up to for help and answers. He’s really giving Jesus-wannabe, with the resurrection and savior complex he has going on, as well as the over-the-top generosity. A big red crab, with a big red flag... and the tits to match (Cancer rules the booba).

Vere

Venus conjunct Midheaven, Midheaven being in Scorpio. With Sun in Scorpio. Lots of Scorpio. He’s so pretty! Pretty in an elegant, sensual, effortless yet manicured to perfection way. Apparently, the BBC (Big Bulky Collar) on him does not signal “DANGER!” to the rascals who take him for an easy target, because all they see is the approachable, delicate face and inviting voice. He knows the effect he has on people, and he’s using it to his advantage – to get a free drink, or to make people trust him juuust enough to get what he wants. He is attracted to power, powerful people, and wants power for himself – and he’s ruthless about achieving his goals, too (Scorpio in 10th); there’s a lot of gossip surrounding this man’s public image, his reputation. Venus conjunct Midheaven places a focus on art – he is an artist, appreciates art as well as creating it himself. He IS the art, or that’s the perception of him anyway.

Venus in Scorpio As Venusian as he appears, Venus is in detriment here – there’s conflicting emotions regarding his looks, and the perception of him – or rather, the expectations placed on him because of it. He'll break rules on purpose, act outrageous, play coy, use his beaty for all its worth – he’ll purposefully play the ‘bad guy’ as a form of rebellion, a defense mechanism. He can’t find comfort in a traditional relationship dynamic and has a hard time liking someone who likes them back - he’s afraid of commitment. I believe his confidence is a façade; there’s an underlying fear of betrayal and rejection, and a paranoia that any good thing that comes his way is a trick, a trap, or a lie. That he doesn’t deserve love or care, really. Buuut… if you’re like Ais and see him for all his ‘ugly’, and accept him anyway… then you’re really something💜.

1525 words. Yikes. I tried keeping the word count down.

Unsuccessful. Obviously.

If you’ve read this far, go have some water, a snack, a stretch – you deserve it! Doctor’s orders!!!

P.S. : Ais' side profile sprite is giving me "ex-punk mom wearing a cozy cardigan", is it just me? Anyone? Are you seeing it? Am I crazy? Do I need help?...

...I'll see myself out.

#ps: he just looks so cozyyyyy~#call me a dictionary bc I'm full of words #and thoughts #this took waaay too long to write #touchstarved game #ais #kuras #leander #mhin #vere #touchstarved headcanons #astro observations

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toomuchracket · 7 months

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sweet touches (ross x girlband gf!reader fluff)

soz this is late it's actually day 11 of promptober and not 12 oops!! but we move. it's cute, it's fun, and it's lowkey super trouper by abba coded. i might genuinely write a fic inspired by that song for these two at some point, but enjoy this for now! <3

the party is in full swing when you and your girls arrive. clinging to one of their hands, you slowly weave your way towards the bar through the throng of people, a lot of whom you suddenly recognise as the sporadic lights inset in the ceiling throw their faces into focus.

there's one face present in particular, though, that no amount of shitty soho house lighting could disguise from you; you clock it almost immediately when you step through the door. understandable, considering you've spent a fair few nights learning every contour of that face with your own body, and even more insomnia-ruined nights committing it to memory in near-darkness, the only light in the bedroom being the tiny crack that escapes the side of the roller blinds.

plus, the fact he's six foot four and a creature of habit also helps your recognition capabilities. of course ross would be standing at the bar itself, whisky in one hand, the other in his trouser pocket, face pensive in concentration on whoever's talking and generally just ridiculously handsome.

said face morphs into a sly smirk as he notices you walking in. like you, ross is all too familiar with what your face looks like in low lighting, the result of more than a couple of gin-soaked late nights in his house, and of an entire weekend spent bare(faced and elsewhere) in front of the fire in a cairngorms log cabin, so he quickly spots you, too.

you feel your own cheeks lift in response. fuck, he's hot.

and he's yours.

despite that fact, you don't drop your friend's hand and make a beeline for ross as soon as the two of you lock eyes. there's a part of you wishes you could, but you're both enjoying the privacy of your relationship right now - someday, you'll go public, you've discussed it, but it's nice to have one thing that escapes the usual scrutiny your respective bands are both under. once the hype over you and your girls and the controversy around your boyfriend's best friend dissipates a bit (although, nobody's sure which thing will happen first), there's less chance of the two of you being pestered by paparazzi and the public when you finally step out together on purpose.

besides, you can still have some fun with your boyfriend now, albeit discreetly. neither of you say anything as you go to walk past ross - his face stays locked on the person he's in conversation with, yours stays peering ahead of you so you don't lose your friends - but he almost imperceptibly takes his hand from his pocket before you reach him. it brushes against your free one quite deliberately, calloused fingers looping around your own as much as they can within the limited time you have to connect.

warmth seems to shoot through your body from your fingertips as soon as they meet ross's. you feel the cold set back in when the two of you slide apart again, and then the longing follows. suddenly, keeping the relationship contained in its own little bubble seems like an awful idea to you; if not for your friend's grasp on you, you'd probably run back to your boyfriend, cling to him, burrow into the crook of his neck and stay with him for the rest of the night.

but you stay somewhat composed, and merely chance a sneaky look back at ross, something neither of you tend to do on nights like these. after all, how many times have you bypassed each other at parties like you just did, and still ended up in his arms in one of your beds when the evening's over? it's a given. you both know it'll happen, trust that it will. there's no need to do an orpheus and turn back to double check. you know that, and your turning back to look at ross is less hadestown and more a star is born, anyway - you just don't want to stop looking at him, ever, can't resist one more peek.

you really miss him.

you're surprised to notice that ross is glancing back at you too, but his reasoning is clear; even in the poor lighting you can see the soft concern in his eyes. they soften, though, as he smiles at you and mouths "see you later", and you smile genuinely too. he really does know you so well, you think, to be able to tell from the shortest of touches that you're missing him. the warmth returns to your body with his little gesture, and your little bubble doesn't seem so bad anymore.

the glances don't continue past that point, and neither do the clandestine touches that fuel the two of you on nights like these. but it's alright - you have a nice enough time with your friends, mingling and sipping champagne, that you're fairly distracted from missing ross. that, and it takes a far shorter time for the two of you to "run into each other" than it has done before.

the routine is always the same; somebody, but never either one of you, inevitably pulls the two of you into a conversation huddle. tonight, it's the queen of pop herself, charli, with an "oh, have you seen george yet? and ross? they'll want to hear this, surely" amidst a breakaway chat about production that started when she sat down to gossip with you and her bandmates.

you smile to yourself as the words leave her mouth - just she and her boyfriend and you and ross together, and then they'll go off to dance or smoke or kiss as they so often do, and you'll be left alone with your man in a seemingly casual way. perfect. "no, i haven't seen them at all tonight, actually."

liar.

"yeah? let's go and annoy them, then," charli stands, waving and kissing your bandmates goodbye before looping her arm through yours and leading you back towards the bar. again, you spot ross first, even though george is the one facing you and his girlfriend. he winks at her and nudges ross, who turns to look at the two of you approaching. he smiles, cheeks dimpling deeper and deeper as charli practically shoves you into the boys with an excited "look who i found!"

"hiya," george says, pulling you into a long, friendly hug. "it's been too long, mate. where have you been? nobody's seen you! you're almost as bad as ross, cooped up producing 24/7 now."

that makes you giggle - you both use the same excuse, and nobody's any the wiser about it. "well, we can't all have hot girlfriends distracting us from it, can we?" you wink at charli, who tugs you into her side and kisses your temple. "must be nice, eh, ross?"

it's extremely cheeky of you, and you might get into a teensy bit of trouble with your boyfriend for it later, but the opportunity was too good to pass up. and, to be honest, ross is really sexy when he's a little bit irritated at you.

he's also really sexy now, smirking at you. "well, i can only imagine."

"yeah," you laugh, breaking free of charli's hold and opening your arms towards ross. "hi, by the way. s'good to see you."

it's not a lie - the relief in your body just from being close to him is palpable, and it increases to such a level when he hugs you that you almost audibly sigh. home at last.

"back at you," ross says into your hair. it's agonising when he pulls away from you, but your heart races when he accidentally-on-purpose presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth instead of your cheek. "whoops, sorry about that, love…"

(he's so not.)

"...must be drunker than i thought," ross gives the most convincing faux-embarrassed grin you've ever seen, while charli and george cackle like schoolkids behind you at his "mishap".

"oh, it's alright," you smile, wrapping an arm around his waist casually. "what are you drinking, anyway?"

"whisky. talisker."

"would i like it?"

ross shrugs. "i don't know. let me buy you one and we'll see."

you do like it, a fact you discovered when you and ross took a trip to skye and visited the distillery during the summer, but it's nice to pretend, to let ross discreetly spoil you the way he loves to do; nobody even considers it a romantic or flirty gesture, as evidenced by george's "you and your crusade to get everyone drinking whisky, honestly".

"it's good for you, mate," comes your boyfriend's reply, delivered over his shoulder as he waits for the barman to pour you a half.

"so's weed, but you don't see me trying to convince everyone to smoke. maybe i should, actually. i don't know why more people here don't."

charli takes george's face in her hands. "because it's illegal in the UK, babe."

"oh, right, so it is."

the two of them collapse into a fit of the giggles, kissing cutely before ordering their own drinks. amidst their funny little distraction, ross gently pushes the crystal glass of your whisky along the bar into your hand. his hand covers yours, briefly, and as it does he uses his middle finger to tap three times on the back of your hand - i love you.

your heart swells, and you smile as you look up at him. sliding your glass back and hand from under his, you respond by tapping four times on ross's finger - i love you too - before bringing the glass up to your lips and letting the amber liquid roll down your throat. it kind of makes you feel the same way ross does, actually; warm, cosy, content. "this is nice."

"it is," ross agrees, and you know he's also referencing both the moment and the drink like you are. his brow furrows slightly, and he brings his free hand up to your face. "you've got a little…"

with his thumb, he wipes a stray drop of whisky from the side of your mouth, then boldly drags it across your lips before bringing it to his own and smirking.

"ross," you glance around quickly to make sure you're not being watched, before scootching closer to your boyfriend. "what was that?!"

"irresistible, love," ross winks. "waste not, want not, and all."

you laugh, which seems to remind george and charli of your existence. they move to stand between the two of you, george's arm resting on his best friend's shoulder and charli's slung around your own. she lightly pokes your cheek. "what are you giggling at?"

"how tipsy ross is. i think he needs his bed."

the two of them cackle again, while ross smiles warmly at you. "you're right, actually. would love to be in bed right now."

"actually," george turns to his girlfriend. "i'm ready to go home, too, i think."

"yeah, this party's a bit dead, anyway," charli shrugs.

you scoff. "course it is. it's a soho house."

everyone laughs, and george reaches around charli to clap you on the back. "see, this is why we all love you - you tell it like it is. take it you're heading out with us, then?"

"if that's alright, yeah," you nod, sipping your drink.

"absolutely," charli squeezes you. "where are you staying tonight?"

you name the area, pointedly not looking at your boyfriend. george is the one to note the familiarity, but he still doesn't cotton on. "oh, like ross. well that works perfectly, then - we'll get out first, and then the two of you can share the taxi for the rest of the journey. cool?"

ross nods. "cool. shall we?"

you down the rest of your whisky, and he snorts. "let me run and say goodbye to the girls - i'll get you at the door."

"i'll come with you, actually," ross chips in. "matty'll kill me if i don't pass on the message that he loves the new album to the four of you."

"as he should," charli says. "we'll get you outside."

you nod, and the two couples part ways. with a "fucking finally", ross takes your hand, and you lead him towards your - visibly tipsy - friends. the feeling of your hand in his spurs you on, and you barely manage to shout a "bye, girlies!" to your bandmates before you're tugging ross towards the door. before you reach it, though, he suddenly grabs your waist and pulls you into a darkened alcove; his lips are on yours immediately, and you moan at the feeling.

despite your public setting, you wish the kiss lasted longer; ross pulls away after only a couple of seconds, before you can open your mouth and instigate a full make-out session. you whine almost involuntarily as he does, which makes him chuckle.

"m'sorry, baby," ross says, kissing your forehead before pulling you back into the party. "i just couldn't hold it in any longer. was gasping for that the whole night, honestly."

"me too," you smile, weaving your way back through the crowds - ross has to hold your hips to stay close to you, which of course you don't complain about. "can't wait for more when we get home."

"same," a final squeeze of your body, then ross lets you go as you step outside. "oh, there they are."

your timing couldn't have been any better - you and ross reach charli and george just as the cab does. ross ends up sitting next to you after you've all clambered in, and he rests his head on your shoulder in what you hope is only fake tiredness as charli directs the driver and the car sets off.

george squints at you and ross. "you know, you two would actually be a really good couple."

"really?" ross cracks an eye open to stare at his bandmate in amusement.

"oh, you so would! i mean, you look great together," charli agrees. "like, that's an onlyfans channel i'd subscribe to right there."

ross turns his face into your shoulder to cringe, while george shakes his head and you laugh in slight disbelief. "thanks?"

"you do look hot together, to be fair," george grins. "but i've seen ross naked enough in life already, cheers."

not relatable to you whatsoever, but you laugh along with the rest of them all the same, and sigh in slight relief when the couple opposite you get out of the taxi (after charli kisses all over your face repeatedly and promises to text you to organise dinner, a girls' holiday, and a studio session, "in that order").

as soon as your friends disappear from view, ross presses a little kiss to your neck and rests his hand on your thigh; he traces the little hearts on your tights quite happily, smiling into your skin as you tell the driver you're happy for the next drop-off point to be the final one.

you slide your arm behind ross's neck, reaching up and round to stroke the side of his face. "do you want to shower when we get in? or just a brew then bed?"

"i don't mind. i get to hug you either way," ross murmurs, softly kissing your jaw.

"sap."

"only when it comes to you, love."

#mads muses #mads does writing #girlband gf #ross macdonald fic #ross macdonald fanfiction #ross macdonald fanfic #ross macdonald fluff #ross macdonald x reader #ross x reader #promptober75

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