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soulessjourney · 4 months

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Hello love I have a request that I would love you to write!

Cassian or Azriel I am not picky and Y/N

Y/n gets into an argument with Cassian and or Azriel about how they are not attentive, and they’re for them anymore and says that if things don’t change they’re leaving. Things do not change and it is the night that the inner circle goes into Hewn city. at the gala, Eris ask Y/N to dance. And one of the boys is really brooding just standing in a corner just watching YN and Eris dance and then is the part where Taylor goes. “I can see you staring honey like he’s just your understudy like you get your knuckles, bloody for me” I want their eyes to connect from across the dance floor. That would be great. then I am giving you full creative freedom with the undertones of exile by Taylor Swift. give me all the angst you can give the more the better.

I absolutely love this idea! I hope that I live up to your expectations and provided enough angst to feed that burning hunger of yours! Also apologies that it has taken me so long, in all honesty I kept forgetting what I was writing and I wanted it to be PERFECT.

Exile

Paring: Azriel x Reader

Word count: 4k

Summary: Azriel starts to distance himself from you. Fed up with his disappearing acts, you confront him, only for it to end in driving you away entirely.

Warnings: Angst (and lots of it), Fighting, Language, Hurt and comfort (from Mor)

If there was one thing Azriel was known for, it was his dedication to his work and his undying loyalty to Rhysand. He was also your mate, someone who meant the entire world to you. You had met Azriel about two hundred years ago when you started your bakery. He came in after watching you struggle with carrying the large bags of flour, extending a helping hand. Since then, he started coming daily to see what new goods you were cooking up, and that's when he asked you on your first date.

The first date was a bit awkward as he shied away, speaking in such a hushed tone that you had to repeatedly ask him to repeat himself. Despite Azriel's strength, you loved his shy side. There was something so docile and soft about it, and you were the only one who truly got to see that side of him.

When the bond snapped into place, both of you were fighting over who would mix the flour, ending with both of you covered from head to toe. It was when he heard your infectious laugh that he felt it, and it was obvious when you gave him that loving gaze he was drawn to. Your eyes were so soft, and your smile was wide. So, that evening, you made him his favorite treat and offered it to him, which soon led to Azriel making sure Rhysand got it through Cassian’s head that you two were not to be bothered for a few weeks.

Those were the moments you missed more than anything. You missed curling up with Azriel as you read the same book, often sharing your reactions. You missed hiding from him to scare him, only to fail the moment his shadows shot out to greet you after a long day. You missed your mate, and your happy memories felt like a fever dream. He was starting to become a distant memory, and part of you wasn’t even sure if you wanted to put up a fight.

You couldn't recall the last time you had spent more than a few moments with him. Lately, he had been staying at the House of Wind to be closer to Rhysand, ready for any last-minute missions that might arise. Initially, you didn't mind, considering Rhysand's frequent missions, especially when Feyre was pregnant and needed his support. However, what began to trouble you was that he never invited you to join him, nor did he visit your shared home to see you.

Then you heard about the time he started spending with Elain. You weren't bothered by her, as you couldn't blame her for shutting everyone out. Her entire life had been stripped away in a matter of moments, and now she was essentially immortal, with a mate forced upon her. However, understanding also brought weariness. You could sense that she had developed feelings for your mate, and Azriel, being who he is, most likely was unaware of the affection she held towards him. Strangely, this knowledge made you want to be around him more, but you didn't know how to navigate the situation.

Azriel had been a significant presence in your life, and the sensation of him slipping away was something you loathed. At some point, he had closed off the bond, making it nearly impossible to reach out to him through it. Running your hands over your face, you attempted to dispel the exhaustion before deciding to visit the House of Wind to ensure Azriel was at least alive.

Your arrival at the House of Wind did not go unnoticed. Cassian, upon spotting you ascending to the training area, made your presence known. "Y/N! You're here. We've been wondering when you would show up. We were starting to think you didn't like us," he teased, capturing everyone's attention.

Clearing your throat, you offered him a small smile as the breeze tousled your hair. "Yeah, things have been hectic at the bakery. Have you seen Azriel? It's been hard to find him lately," you inquired, noticing Cassian's expression contorting into one of pure confusion.

"What do you mean? He said he was with you this morning," Cassian replied, scrutinizing your every move. Dread began to fill your body as the realization that Azriel had even been deceiving the others dawned on you.

Forcefully laughing, you scratched the back of your head, clearing your throat. "No, he was! By 'lately,' I meant during the day since he's usually all over because of the missions Rhys keeps assigning him," you explained, even your forced smile fading as Cassian's gaze filled with concern and pity.

"Y/N, Rhys hasn't assigned him anything for a while, not after what happened with Feyre and your injury. Rhys wanted him to be around you more because of that close call. Are you telling me you haven't seen him?" Cassian inquired, raising a brow and challenging you to lie. By now, the entire area had cleared out except for Nesta, who stood in the background watching you and Cassian, her jaw tense. She knew something, and you would extract it from her if necessary.

"No, I haven't. I mean, he comes home once in a blue moon, but then he just sleeps in the guest room, and he's gone by the time I wake up," you admitted, your shoulders sagging. "I really miss him, Cass. The nightmares are starting to return. He's not avoiding me because he blames himself for what happened, right?" Just a few months ago, Azriel had angered someone, resulting in a dagger being firmly lodged in your side. Recalling that moment, you realized Azriel wasn't present when Cassian and Feyre found you on the floor of the bakery's kitchen that morning.

You heard Nesta curse before she joined Cassian's side. "I spoke to the idiot already, and I thought I got through to him. He's with Elain in the garden. I saw them just before training started, and considering how often they spend time there, he should still be there," she divulged, her expression shifting from anger to guilt. You wanted to be furious, but part of you couldn't muster the anger towards her. Nesta had tried her best to handle the situation discreetly, but with her knowing, you wondered just how long Azriel had been sneaking around with Elain while deceiving the rest of his family.

You hadn’t heard anything else Nesta had said as your feet carried you through the house. Just as you turned the corner, you collided with a solid chest, causing you to stumble back. Looking up, you sucked in a deep breath as your eyes locked with a pair of hazel ones. "Azriel," you breathed, reaching out towards him. Your hand fell to your side when he pulled away from you. "I've missed you. You're never around anymore," your voice thick with emotion as you struggled to say anything beyond the standard 'I miss you'.

Azriel glanced over your shoulder, his expression hardening. "You're not supposed to be here. Why are you here?" His eyes eventually met yours as a scoff escaped your mouth. You hadn’t seen your mate for the past few weeks, and that’s what he had to say to you? That you weren’t supposed to be there, trying to ensure he was alive?

"You're joking, right? Azriel, I haven’t seen you for weeks, and that’s all you have to say? A hello would’ve been nice at least," you snapped, crossing your arms. Rolling his eyes, he turned on his heel and began to walk away. "No, you don’t get to walk away from me, Azriel. That’s not fair. You don’t get to pull a disappearing act without some sort of explanation. You don’t get to lie to your family and expect not to get caught," you snapped, following after him. As the two of you entered the dining area, you missed the others sitting at the table, their conversations cut short as you stomped after Azriel.

Azriel stopped and spun towards you, his wings flaring slightly. "My gods, Y/N, can’t you just get off my back? I’m not going to be there every single second of the day with you. You need to learn how to live without me for once in your life." Any sound that filled the room suddenly fell silent as you took a step back, feeling as though he had slapped you.

"Oh, shit." Looking around, you came face to face with your family, all silent as they watched you. Nesta was glaring daggers at Azriel, while Cassian and Rhysand were positioned to intervene if things went south. Mor and Feyre looked at you, their faces filled with guilt. Then there was Elain, sitting there with the audacity to appear clueless about what was happening. Your entire family was there to witness the potential downfall of your relationship with Azriel. Great.

"What's your issue, Y/N? Why are you on my case today? I haven’t done anything to deserve this nagging. Gods, it’s like after you healed, you became an overbearing mess," Nesta slammed her hands down on the table and stood, prompting Cassian to grab hold of her to prevent her from lunging at Azriel across the room.

A dry laugh escaped you as you narrowed your eyes. “Overbearing? Azriel, you haven’t been around in weeks! You can’t even stand to be in the same room as me. And overbearing? Day to day, I have to deal with the people you anger, and I constantly fear for my life because of your job. I took a damn dagger to the side and almost died because of your job. I’m sorry if accepting you for who you are and your job is overbearing. I’m sorry that worrying for you is just so awful. You’ve changed, Azriel, and I don’t know if it’s because of the damn elephant in the room or if you’ve simply given up. I’m tired of dealing with the nightmares alone, and I want you back by my side when I wake up screaming because I constantly feel that dagger ripping me apart.” Tears streamed down your face as you looked around.

Rhysand had slowly made his way towards you with Mor by his side, the two members of this family, besides Cassian, whom you trusted with your life. Glaring down at the ground, you looked up at Azriel, your face void of any emotion. “If you can’t clean up your act, I’m done.” Azriel froze as a flood of fear slammed into you. He slipped, and you could tell the moment he slammed those walls back up.

“Clean up my act? You’re the one to talk. It’s like ever since you woke up, you became afraid of the world all over again. You shouldn’t need us to walk you to work and back. You shouldn’t need us hanging around the store all day just because you’re scared of someone showing up. I can’t stand to have a mate who is so fearful of the world.” You dropped your shoulders in defeat at his words. It was true; after what happened, you had been terrified of being in that shop, fearing they would come back and finish the job.

Rhysand was next to you in a second, followed by Mor, who caught you as your knees gave out. “That is no way to speak to your mate, Azriel,” Rhysand spat. “You sat around moping because you wanted one. The Mother blesses you with one, and this is how you thank her? Seriously?” Rhysand crossed his arms, the room noticeably darkening.

“Well, maybe she made a mistake. Maybe Y/N isn’t supposed to be my mate. We have nothing in common, meanwhile, Elain and I do.” The moment the words left his mouth, your head snapped in Elain’s direction as you clenched your jaw.

Looking back at Azriel, you shook your head. “I mean it, Azriel. If you can’t clean up your act, I’m done. Don’t bother looking for me until you figure out your mess. I’m done,” you spat, winnowing from your very spot into your room. Grabbing a duffel bag, you began to cram things into it just as you heard footsteps sprinting down the hall towards your door, and the echoes of voices calling out to the owner of those steps.

As Azriel threw open the door, you looked at him as he reached out for you, his mouth opening to say something. Before you could hear what he had to say, you disappeared, leaving him standing in the middle of your room.

---

It had been a month since you chose to seclude yourself in Mor's guest bedroom. As the door slowly opened, light flooded into the dark room, and Mor stepped inside. Sitting on the bed, she gently rubbed your back to draw your attention. "Hey there, sweetheart. It's time to get you out of this room. Velaris has started to notice your absence now that the bakery is closed," she said softly, sensing your reluctance. "He still asks about you, but he's also spending more time with her. Rhys has tried talking sense into him, Cassian kicked his ass, and the girls have been giving him the cold shoulder. I'm sorry, my love, but perhaps attending the Gala in Hewn City would do you good," she suggested, brushing your hair away from your face gently.

You nodded and turned onto your side to look at her, a small frown forming on your lips. Mor's gaze softened as she sighed softly. "Come, I want to show you something," she said, gently pulling you out of bed. Standing up, you followed her out of the room toward another one just down the hall. Mor pushed the door open, revealing a mannequin adorned with a stunning deep purple gown featuring delicate beadwork climbing the bodice. The main skirts bore the design of a tree and leaves, with the beads on the skirt representing flowers. It was the most beautiful gown you had ever seen.

"I had it made for you to wear tonight. You deserve to look and feel beautiful. Azriel is taking you for granted. With your beauty and eyes that could bring a man to his knees, this dress is perfect for you," Mor whispered from behind you, resting her hands on your shoulders gently.

A wide smile graced your lips for the first time in a month as you turned to face Mor. "Thank you, Mor. Truly, it means a lot to me that you did this," your words were soft and heartfelt. A sense of brokenness lingered within you, the result of Azriel's neglect over the past month, compounded by the knowledge of his time spent with Elain. Mor guided you to the bathroom, where she helped you into the tub and began to wet and wash your hair.

"You know, we’re all upset with him for treating you like this. Yes, Elain needed help before, but even Nesta started to reprimand him for spending too much time with her. I remember when he first came home after meeting you. He was covered in flowers and had the biggest grin on his face. He couldn't stop talking about you, and Cassian often had to beg him to stop. But then, after one of his missions went awry and you got hurt, everything changed. He refused to see you, or even go near that part of the house. And then he kissed Elain. I thought Nesta was going to tear him to shreds. After that, he began lying to us about spending time with you, even after Rhysand practically forced him out of the garden." Mor's words pierced through you, mentioning the kiss shattered your fragile emotional state.

A wave of despair washed over you. Shoulders slumping, you gazed down at the water surrounding your bare form. "Do you think he still loves me?" you asked, your voice trembling with uncertainty. Mor took a deep breath, visibly caught off guard by your question. She hummed softly as she poured water over your head, grappling for the right words.

"I'm sure he does. Azriel is complex, we all know that. For centuries, he's prayed to The Mother for a mate. I heard him whispering a prayer every night until he met you. Then it turned into begging her to ensure your safety. Azriel tends to shut down and push away those closest to him when he's struggling to cope. He avoided Rhysand when he returned from Amarantha's clutches. His treatment of you isn't fair, but I genuinely don't know how to reach him anymore." Mor cleared her throat, rising to her feet. "I'll leave you to dry off and get into a robe. When you're ready, come downstairs, and I'll help you dress and do your hair," she offered with a comforting smile, squeezing your shoulder before exiting the room, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

It didn’t take long for you to exit the tub once the water turned cold. After drying off your body, you slipped on a black silk robe and began to towel dry your hair. As you made your way towards the stairs, you made a mental note to find a way to thank Mor for everything she had done for you. Nearing the bottom of the steps, you froze upon hearing Mor engaged in a conversation with someone. Peeking around the corner, you spotted Azriel standing with his back to you in the middle of the living room, while Mor stared at him with an intense gaze. “She thinks you don’t love her, Azriel. You’ve pushed her to the brink of giving up,” she snapped, causing him to tense at her words.

Azriel ran his fingers through his hair, his mouth opening and closing as he struggled to find the right words to say. “I do, I just... I don’t know. I haven’t seen her for a month, and I’m starting to go crazy, Mor. I don’t know what to do about it anymore, and it feels like everything I say comes out wrong,” he confessed. You noticed his shadows lurking in the room, beginning to slither their way towards you.

“And what about the kiss, Azriel? You kissed Elain while your own mate was at home, thinking you were off on some mission Rhysand assigned to you,” Mor jabbed a finger into his shoulder. “You gave up, and she kept pushing. This is your doing, and you need to figure it out. She was serious when she told you to clean up your act. Right now, you’re showing her you’ll never change, not after you hadn’t even bothered to come see her for a month knowing she was here. You pushed her aside for Elain. It’s time you finally accept the consequences of your actions, Azriel. If you lose her for good, that’ll be on you.” Before Azriel could respond, he tensed and turned towards you, his eyes widening.

Allowing your gaze to fall into a blank expression, you looked at Mor. “I’m ready,” your voice came out as a whisper, and Mor nodded, shoving past Azriel. You both made your way back up the stairs, leaving Azriel standing alone in the middle of the room. Once again, you were just out of his reach, and once again, he was on the verge of losing you for good.

---

The gala was breathtaking. Witnessing the courts gathering together always brought you immense joy. Tamlin made his way towards you, a wide smile on his face. “Y/N! It’s good to see you again. We've been missing your baked goods dearly,” he grinned, prompting a laugh from you. Born in the Spring court, you had grown close to Tamlin, and it was there that you honed your baking skills while growing up. When the time came for you to seek a new path, Tamlin had let you go, assuring you that you would always have a home to return to.

When Azriel pulled his disappearing acts, leaving you alone with your thoughts, you often debated returning to Spring, where you knew you had a family who would welcome you with open arms. “Thank you, Tamlin. If I'm ever permitted, I’ll be sure to bring you some of my cookies that you drooled over,” you teased, brushing a curl away from your shoulder.

Tamlin looked around, a questioning look flashing across his face. “Where’s your mate? The last time you and I talked, he was glued to your side.” Your eyes dulled slightly as you shrugged. You hadn’t seen Azriel all evening, though you knew he was here as you were constantly followed by a shadow.

Before you could respond, Eris made his appearance, as fashionable as ever. “Y/N, you truly outdid yourself this time. You look absolutely breathtaking in that dress. Shall we have a dance?” Without waiting for your answer, Eris grabbed your hand and led you towards the dance floor, where bodies swirled in a mesmerizing pattern. You and Eris fell into an easy rhythm as he looked down at you. “Sorry to drag you away from Tamlin, but I couldn’t help but notice how sad you looked. Is it because of your mate?” His eyes bore into yours as you sucked in a deep breath.

“It would be a mistake to lie to you,” you grumbled, earning a laugh of agreement from him. “Azriel and I haven’t talked for a good while. He’s been busy with other things,” you mumbled, avoiding eye contact. As you both spun, you caught sight of him standing in the corner of the room, watching you. Your eyes hardened as they locked onto his.

Eris cleared his throat, pulling your attention back to him. “You know, if you need a break from your home, you can stay in my court. We obviously have the room, and I can make sure you get the space you need to think. As much as Morrigan hates me, she’s worried about you to the point where she asked me for help.” Studying his gaze, it wasn’t hard to tell that he was being genuine.

Looking towards Azriel again, you studied him, your eyes narrowing as Elain walked up to him, handing him a glass. Biting back your tears, you let your walls down, throwing every ounce of anger, betrayal, sadness, and fear at him. You watched as he stumbled back slightly, his hand flying up over his chest, his eyes locking onto yours. You watched as Elain reached out to him, running her hand over his arm as she tried to check on him. Eris stopped moving as he stood next to you, watching the interaction between the both of them. “Just say the word, and I can take you away from here,” he whispered.

You waited for him to brush off Elain, but he didn’t. He let her hand rest on his cheek as he kept his eyes on yours, his eyes widening. “He doesn’t care about me anymore, Eris. Take me to your court,” you said, looking up at Eris, who only nodded. You didn’t miss how he glanced at Rhysand and the others, giving them a small nod. You didn’t miss how their shoulders sagged in defeat once they realized you were leaving. You didn’t miss how the crowd began to part as Azriel raced towards you, dropping to his knees in front of you. You watched as his body shook with sobs, how he begged you to stay, begged you to stay by his side. “Where were you when I begged The Mother to bring you back to me? Where were you when I was dying on the kitchen floor of my own bakery after taking a knife for you? Where were you when I woke up screaming for you? Go back to Elain, Azriel. You made your decision.” With that, you turned to Eris, giving him a small nod. With that, the both of you walked away, leaving Azriel on the ground sobbing into his hands before he disappeared from your sight as the crowd closed behind you.

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xxsabitoxx · 7 months

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Pale Blue Part 2 TEASER

Geto Suguru x Pregnant Reader

Warnings: this fic IS CANON COMPLIANT, if you have not caught up to the "gojo's past" arc in the manga or anime, you will be spoiled. This teaser does not contain anything more than kissing and suggestive moments between reader and suguru

Flashback~

“Did you really mean what you said last week?” You set your pen down, looking across your room to see Suguru sitting at your desk. You were both working on different assignments but still wanted to spend time together. “Hmm?” Suguru set his own pen down, turning his body to look at you where you sat on your own bed. “About… ya know… wanting to get me pregnant.” You watched a shy smile pass over Suguru’s face as he sighed. “Yeah… I meant it.” He started softly, hand coming up to rub the back of his neck. You had to chuckle at the fact that Suguru had stuffed an extra pen through his bun, just in case the other died while writing. “I guess you could say I have baby fever.”

“Baby fever, huh?” you teased, putting your notebook to the side as you did. “Yeah, baby fever. I just… fuck I don’t know it’s been a thought on my mind for a while now. I keep seeing these happy families, their small children giggling and playing and… I started daydreaming about what it would be like to be a father. When I envisioned our baby, fuck my heart just melted.” he sighed, face turning a little red before he continued on. “I started thinking about how cute you’d look pregnant, how cute you’d be as a mom. How sweet it would be to hear their little voice calling you mama.” Your lips parted, completely entranced by the world he was painting you.

“Suguru.” you stated rather bluntly, smiling as his head shot up to look at you. At some point in his rambling, he had begun staring into space, as if envisioning the things he talked about. “Y-yeah?” You laugh softly, crawling off your bed and crossing the small space until you stand before him. “Come here.” You smile, hands gently cupping his cheeks and forcing his head to look up at you. “ I love you so much.” You started softly, thumb gingerly brushing along the plains of his cheekbone. Suguru swallowed, brown eyes observing every inch of your face. “I love you too.” He breathed, subconsciously leaning into your touch. “If you’re serious, if you truly want a baby…”

“I do.”

Your lips parted before you smiled brightly, giggling a bit at his instant reassurance. “... then I am more than willing to try and conceive.” You hadn’t intended for it to come out so seductive, but the way Suguru’s breathing hitched told you it had a dual effect. “Really?” You nodded, thumb still gently caressing his cheeks. “I know we’re young and all, but I think there is no time better than the present to chase your dreams.” You snorted at your own cheesiness, laughing as Suguru’s arms came around your waist to hug you tightly. “Thank you.” his voice was soft, just above a whisper. “You know, I have to ask, Suguru… especially since you seemed to put a ton of thought into this.”

“Yeah? Anything. Ask away.” You reached up and tugged the pen out of his bun, fingers moving to delicately pull his hair out of the bun itself. You always enjoyed it when he had his hair down. “What was the moment that made you realize it was more than just a desire, that it was something you actually wanted. I know you said you saw families and all that but… you’re a man of purpose. Something in particular egged you on and I’m dying to know what.” From the way his cheeks turned red, you knew you had hit the nail on the head. He wasn’t lying about the baby fever, but you knew him too well to know that it wasn’t just an accumulation of events.

One thing in particular had been his “breaking point” of sorts.

“Alright you caught me.” he sighed deeply, eyes glancing away from you before looking up again. “Remember that weekend I went home to visit family?” You nodded, hands sliding down to rest on his shoulders. Suguru’s arms opened, allowing you to climb onto his lap as he spoke. “Well, my cousin had just had her baby a few weeks prior. Since she knew I was coming home to visit for the weekend, she came over with her new baby to introduce us.” You nodded again, humming thoughtfully as you twirled some of his hair around your fingers. “I don’t think I’ve ever held a baby before.” He added, cheeks a rosy pink instead of flaming red.

“And when she put that little baby in my arms I… fuck I just melted.”

He swallowed, finding it endearing that you were so invested in every word he spoke. “I just remember thinking that… there was nothing more special than that bond. The bond between mother and child… between father and child. I found myself imagining what it would be like to hold my own newborn… and I was serious when I said every time I envisioned it, they always looked like you.” He relaxed a bit when you leaned forward, pressing a chaste kiss to his cheek before pulling away again. “That’s a beautiful reason, you know.” You hugged him after saying it, letting your chin rest on his shoulders as his arms encompassed your waist and squeezed.

“I want to be a dad, I’ve known that from the very moment I held that baby. But I… if you aren’t ready… I don’t want to force you to do anything.” The vulnerability in his voice made your heart squeeze, it was very rare that Suguru was openly shy about something. “No time better than the present, ya know.” You whispered it again, feeling his breath stutter as you spoke. “Really?” he breathed out again, as if in disbelief that you were saying yes despite already agreeing once before. You nod, trying to contain your smile. “It’s not like it’ll happen right away, it takes time. Most couples have to try for a while before they strike gold.”

“I guess that is true, there are a lot of factors that go into this… it’s a miracle that women are even able to conceive in the first place when you truly look at it.” you felt yourself giggling, finding it cute that Suguru had clearly put some research into this whole idea too. He wanted it, so bad, you couldn’t bear the thought of not trying to give it to him. “So… what do you say, shall we start now?” you pulled away from his hug, grinning deviously at him. “Right now?” Suguru looked shocked, eyes wide and lips slightly parted before he was able to collect his thoughts. “Yeah, right now.” studies could wait, of course they could. Suguru knew that just as well as you did.

Suguru answered you with a kiss, lips melting against your own as his hands clung to your waist.

#wire dividers are from @benkeibear #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jjk fanfic #geto suguru #geto suguru smut #geto suguru imagines #geto suguru x reader #geto suguru x you #suguru x reader #suguru imagine #jjk suguru #jjk imagines #jjk angst #jujutsu kaisen angst #suguru geto #suguru smut

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readychilledwine · 4 months

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Exhibition and Voyeurism

✨️Kink Education with Elizabeth✨️

Exhibition is the sexual arousal of being watched or looked at naked or while performing a sexual act. Exhibition is a kink that most of us actually tend to have to some degree. We can live it out in a place as simple as in front of a mirror with just our partner, by partaking in group sex, or in some places, there are clubs you can attend that attract the swinger and BDSM lifestyle that allow exhibition shows and scenes between couples. This kink is just one side of a very fun and exciting coin.

Voyeurism is being aroused by watching others during sexual acts or naked, and that is the second side of this coin. Voyeurs can find their kicks through a few different methods, but a common one we as a society have stopped associating with both of these kinks are strip clubs. A Voyeur may also be someone who partakes in cuckolding.

I've used exhibition/voyeurism in a few fics before since it is one of my favorite kinks to learn and write about. If you are interested in those, let me know, and I can send you some links 💕

💕 Peep the Valentines Day List Here 💕

💜Read Drumming Song Here💜

As always- NSFW below cut

Rhysand x TamlinsSister!reader

Warnings - could be seen as dubcon in nature (use of sex pollen), Rhys having to wear his mask, public sex, mentions of watching public sex, reader is used by Amarantha to send message to Tamlin, no mentions of seeing Tamlin during the act though, inferred power play with 3 people, forgot to send this to a friend to have them find errors, so forgive me.

Rhys kissed your shoulder, his eyes slightly haunted as he stepped back. “It's been a month,” he whispered gently. “She wants it done tonight.”

Tonight, of course she did after forcing you, Tamlin, and Lucien to watch Feyre beaten into a pulp. You swallowed heavily, stilling your mind while knowing what was to come. “She's doing this to hurt him,” a small smirk came to Rhysand's lips, causing you to glare.

“You practically came to the idea of this not that long ago.” His hands were on you within a second of you turning away from him. Arms wrapped you tightly into him. “This is about your safety. Your protection. She believed you are my toy, therefore will not touch you due to my loyalty.” His voice had dripped down to a soft purr, echoing from your ear to the rest of your body. “You know I would not ask this of you if it wasn't absolutely necessary.”

Wine appeared before you. It reflected a soft golden shimmer and smelled faintly of citrus. Rhys picked it up, bringing it to your lips as he stared at you in the mirror. “You were so good for me during the Rite. Just be my good girl one more night, darling.”

He pressed the cool glass against your lips, tilting it in silent command. “Trust me.”

You nodded, eyes watering slightly. You would never live this down. It would forever stain your history, stain the Spring Court's history. You allowed him to force the sweet liquid into your mouth, swallowing it as he placed a kiss to your temple.

By time two shadows were done dressing you, your skin had started on fire.

Heat pooled your body like a fevered dream making everything hazy. Every brush of their hands on your skin was heaven.

But Gods when Rhys came in, when your mate came into the room smelling of power and seduction, you were instantly on him.

Rhys smiled, hands going to your hips as he scented your arousal. You could faintly hear your brother growling, hear Amarantha's cruel voice, but all that mattered was Rhysand. “Are you ready, darling?”

This wasn't one of Amarantha's usual parties where the air was stiff with tension and hatred. No, she had tapped into the more animalistic side of fae, allowing drinking, fucking, and fighting.

You were currently perched on Rhysand's lap, core dripping as you watched two females eating each other out as if they'd found water after months in the Day Court's deserts.

The gown you were in was completely see through, leaving none of your body to the imagination. You could hear Rhysand growl each time you two were approached at your high table.

His hands had begun to roam. Squeezing your breasts, your plush thighs, you ass.

You had begun to subconsciously rock on his thigh as need began settling into your bones. Rhysand's hand moved down, cupping your sex as he began placing tender kisses along your throat. “Good girl,” he purred. “Need help, baby?” You nodded eagerly, gasping as he spread your legs so you had one on each side of his thighs, opening you up to the room with only a shimmering fabric barely hiding you.

He took one of your arms, forcing it behind his head and pulled your back to his chest.

A long finger circled your clit, causing you to moan loudly. You felt some eyes snapping over to the both of you, locking in on where that hand played with your soaked pussy. Looking over with flushed cheeks, you watched as Helion took a heavy drink, his eyes tracking each movement of Rhysand's hand, his body stirring with each moan and gasp you released.

It took but seconds for you and Rhysand to be the main show as his finger began teasing your entrance.

The Lord of Night and the Rose of Spring.

Death and Life.

The idea of you two was erotic alone, but seeing it had some of the fae in the room on their knees, as if worshiping every soft plea that left your mouth.

When Rhysand finally pushed two fingers in, you couldn't help the scream of his name. You went to turn your head, only for his other hand to grip your hair, keeping your vision locked on where the other fae where fucking in a group.

Whatever he had given you had dropped your inhibitions. It had relaxed you so completely your mind had forgotten why this was being done. You began riding his fingers in time with a pretty female sitting on a male's face. His fingers were curling, hitting that perfect spot and sending spark after spark through you. Your slick was dripping down his hand making him chuckle darkly in your ear. “Look at you, baby. Look at you getting off with all the High Lords watching you. All of their advisors watching you.” You whined in despair as he took his fingers out of you, forcing you to stand long enough for him to take his cock out.

His beautiful heavy cock just waiting to plunge into you. To feel you. He sat back down, keeping your back to his chest before sinking you down fully on him.

You came shamelessly as he bottomed out, but had no time to rest as he ripped the thin material of your dress off, leaving your body bare to all in attendance and began thrusting into you.

Eyes were tracking each bounce of your breasts, each drop of sweat, each sweet moan causing your lips to part. Rhys retitled your head to where Amarantha sat watching. Her gaze was predatory, dangerous, and filled with lust.

In a normal situation, it would have disgusted you, but as you rode him, as every inch of you stretched out around him further fueling the fire in your lower tummy, she didn't matter.

No one mattered.

It was just you and him, putting on a show for anyone to see and enjoy.

Your inner walls began twitching and pulsing around Rhys causing you to beg. Your eyes rolled with each movement, mouth falling open as he fucked you stupid.

“Do not be rude, Rhysand. Allow our poor y/n to cum.”

Rhys kissed below you ear before licking the pointed shell. “Cum for me, not for anyone else, for your mate.”

Stars clouded your vision as you screamed his name, mind falling into an even deeper has as his thrusts grew sloppy inside of you before he followed behind.

It was then that he bit your pulse point hard enough to trigger another orgasm, allowing your body to milk every last drop from him. Rhys allowed you to collapse against him, giving you a few moments before he lifted you and used magic to fix his pants.

He fully lifted you bridal style then, nodding to Amarantha as he carried you back to his room.

“Again,” you whispered to him, hand finding his face. “I need more.”

Rhys kissed your palm when it reached his cheek. “I will give you your fill in our room, y/n Darling. Just let me get you away from all those eyes first.”

You nodded sadly, peering up at him with puppy eyes and making his steps falter. “What's wrong?”

“I liked it. Again.”

The soft demand had His gaze going dark. “You will be the death of me, y/n. But if it is at the cost of this perfect cunt, then who I am to complain?”

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leviackermanscleaningbuddy · 1 year

Text

SKZ DRABBLE-OT8

Chan doesn't usually rank very high on the pack's jealousy scale. But bring in a brat-more importantly, his brat-and a direct challenge, and you've got a recipe for disaster. (or fun. Mostly fun.)

A/N: OKAY, I SWEAR TO GOD, I *AM* ACTUALLY WRITING THE JEONGIN PRESENTING PREQUEL CHAPTER. 😅 BUT. 👀

I needed you to have this daddy dom Chan chapter I wrote in a completely crazed fever dream first.

Tags: SKZ, Stray Kids, Stay, OT8, skz x you, skz x reader, skz!pack, poly!skz, skz!abo, omegaverse, ot8 x you, ot8 x reader, bang chan, lee minho, seo changbin, hwang hyunjin, lee felix, han jisung, kim seungmin, yang jeongin, y/n, skz imagines, skz reactions, skz scenarios, skz smut, skz fluff

Genre: Non-explicit Smut, Fluff, Crack

Warnings: Breeding Kink, Funishment, Mentions of BC Removal, Possessive, Jealous Daddy Dom Chan (you've been warned)

Title: Punish Me

“C’mon, sugar, let me buy you a drink. One drink won’t hurt. Let me take care of you.”

You smile sweetly-so fakely saccharine that it makes your teeth ache-at the persistent alpha leaning against the bar beside you and take another long slow sip of your wine, still half full.

“That is so sweet.” You purr back, putting on the act, just to see how far he’s willing to go to try and get into your pants.

Alpha Males, you scoff silently in your head, as he leans toward you, one arm laid on the bar beside your own, reading into your reply as interest.

He cocks a brow and gives you the start of a smirk. “So c’mon then. What’ll it be?”

You force yourself not to wrinkle your nose at the overwhelming scent of coppery steel washing over you at his words.

“Like I said before though,” You put on a show of hesitating, glancing around as if you’re looking for someone, and the guy follows your gaze, expression smug. You tilt your head toward him, offering him what you hope is an unsure smile. “I’m fairly well taken care of already.”

“Don’t play coy.” The guy says, a slight sneer on his lips now, as he puffs his chest and closes the distance between the two of you, fingers looping around your wrist a bit too strongly for your liking.

He looks down at you, and his lips curl.

“If you’re here alone, sugar, you can just say so.” The light in his eyes goes dangerous as he leans into your space, lips against your temple, voice dropping. “I’m more than happy to take you home.”

You roll your eyes, opening your mouth to respond, ready to drop the whole ‘agreeable, single female’ act, when a wave of thunderous storm swirls the air around you, electrifying it instantly.

You smirk up at the strange alpha, who looks slightly caught off guard, and feel a powerful presence appear at your back.

“Actually-” Chan’s deep growl rumbles through you, and your wolf shivers in anticipation, as his hands come down to rest heavily on your shoulders, glare narrowed in on the man standing before you, almost between your legs. “-she’s not here alone. So why don’t you fuck off back to where you came from, mate?”

The alpha raises his hands in defeat and takes a step back, clearly wanting no part of whatever this is with Chan.

“Fine, man. Whatever. I don’t want any trouble.”

He disappears into the crowd as quickly as he came, probably off to bother some other seemingly helpless, lonely female.

Chan is still tense at your back, and you bite back a smile as you reach for your wine, taking another sip, before you address him casually, “Pretty boy.”

You set your glass back down and tap your fingers along the bar top, cocking your head, even as you stare at where the guy had disappeared only moments before.

“Took you long enough.”

Chan scoffs behind you, and you glance up to see him arching a brow, staring down at you, a slight smirk starting to curl his lips.

Unlike the strange alpha from before, the look on your mate has butterflies swirling in your stomach.

He reaches around you and smoothly downs the rest of your drink in one go.

“It looked like you had it under control.” He remarks dryly, still wearing that stupid smirk-the territorial, slightly dangerous, amused one-that makes you want to rip all his clothes off right here and now.

“I did.” You reply back, twirling the now empty glass on the bar, still not looking back at him.

He slides a hand around the front of your throat, tilting your head back to force you to meet his heated gaze, his lips now pulled into a serious line that sends your heart racing in your chest.

“I know you can handle yourself just fine, little alpha, but-” His fingers tighten slightly around your throat, and you resist the urge to shiver at the look in his dark eyes as he glides his gaze possessively down your body, his voice a low growl in your ear as he suddenly yanks you back flush against him. “-this? This is mine. And I needed to give everyone here a clear reminder of that.”

You gasp as his teeth nip your earlobe.

You can feel him, pressing against every inch of your back, and suddenly, getting out of this seedy college bar and back to the house as quickly as possible becomes your top priority.

However, you’re not quite ready to give up the game-and subsequently, this hot, possessive version of Chan-just yet.

So instead of dragging him directly to the nearest car and undressing him in the backseat, you take a deep breath, and remark calmly-like your heart isn’t currently fighting to rip through your chest, like your inner thighs aren’t already wet with heat that he and his little show put there-

“I get the feeling you’re ready to leave. But I have a stipulation.”

You spin on the bar stool to face him, and his expression is guarded, cautious, eyes dark and unreadable.

When you don’t immediately speak, he growls out, “Go on.”

You clench your thighs at his tone of voice, and by the way his eyes travel slowly down to your legs, bare in your dress, and the smirk that starts to curve his lips, you know he knows.

You ignore him and push on doggedly.

“You let someone in this bar buy me a drink before we go.”

Chan’s entire body tenses at your words, and you have to bite back a triumphant grin at the immediate wave of petrichor that rolls off of him dangerously at your suggestion.

You hold up a finger. “Just one, but you can’t interfere.” You arch a brow at him. “That means allowing flirting and touching, as long as it seems I’ve got it all under control.”

Chan growls low and threatening beneath his breath, sending a shiver down your spine, and his brow furrows, clearly unhappy, but he finally straightens and blows out a long resigned breath between his lips, fixing a glare on you.

“Fine.” He waves the bartender over to refill your wine glass and takes his own drink in white knuckled fingers.

He does not look happy about this.

The brat inside of you giggles gleefully, and you force yourself to remember to breathe as he steps back from you, eyes intently holding your own, warning written all over his serious expression.

“But I step in immediately if something seems sketchy.”

You nod, giving him the hint of a smile, which he doesn’t return, as he takes another backward step toward an unoccupied table in a dark corner, still in view of the full length bar you currently sit at.

“I’ll be watching, little alpha.”

His words send a pleasant shudder down your body, and you watch as he disappears into shadow, turning back to the bar to take a shaky, long gulp of your alcohol.

Fuck.

You sit alone for several moments, intently aware the whole time of Chan’s eyes on you, making you feel hot all over.

You sway slightly to the music, sipping your wine, and adjust yourself on the stool, making sure the long slit of the skirt you wear is in place to show your entire lower leg and tempting slivers of your thigh.

You can practically sense Chan shift uneasily from the shadows, and you bite back a triumphant grin.

Got him.

You glance toward him, and he arches a brow at you, raising his glass to you in some sort of snarky salute, before he downs the rest of his drink.

You’re well aware he knows exactly what you’re doing.

It just makes the victory all the more sweet.

“Hi.” You whip around to see a tall guy lean against the bar beside you, and by the immediate smell of clover and grass that sweeps over you as he waves over the bartender, you know he’s another alpha.

Got him.

You paste on your most innocent smile and widen your eyes as much as possible, pursing your lips as you covertly tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, focusing your gaze on the bar, trying to play shy,

“Hi.” You return, soft and husky, and the guy glances sidelong at you, obvious interest clear in his expression.

“I haven’t seen you here before.” You fight the urge to roll your eyes at the very obvious line, but take a sip of your drink and say lightly instead, “Yeah, I usually frequent the bar on the other side of campus.”

“Oh?” The guy arches his brow and takes a sip of his beer, turning to face you fully now, leaning into your space. “What brings you to this side of campus tonight?”

He smiles at you, and he’s cute, you admit-white, straight teeth and bronze skin and dark hair sweeping over his brow, green eyes-but he’s not your type.

No, your type is currently sitting in the corner, watching everything unfold.

You can practically feel the waves of possession washing over you.

You resist the urge to smirk.

You take another sip of your drink and shrug, not missing the way his eyes flit to the bare skin of your shoulder as it flashes beneath your cardigan.

“Some friends.”

The guy nods his head, as if in understanding, and turns to face the dance floor, eyes sweeping the tightly packed crowd.

“Yeah, I get that.” He raises his voice over the music, taking another drink of his beer as he grins over at you. “Mine ditched me for some more, shall we say, scintillating company on the dance floor.”

You laugh, nodding like you understand, and dart a quick look in the direction of Chan’s table.

He’s leaning back into the dark now, and all you can see are his black jean clad legs, and his knuckles, white and clenched, around the form of his empty glass.

You bite back a smug smile, and turn back to the alpha at the bar.

“Yeah, mine are probably puking in the bathroom by now, or on their way back to the dorms with some guy named Dan in an uber.”

The guy laughs, and it’s a nice sound, but every nerve in your body is on high alert under the alpha’s unwavering gaze from the corner.

You can feel the heat gathering between your thighs at the thought of what he’s going to do to you after this is over.

This is mine. And I needed to give everyone here a clear reminder of that. You can feel the ghost of his fingers wrapped around your throat, and you suppress a shudder.

The guy next to you places a hand over your own, and you resist the urge not to jump, as you turn a smile to him, arching a brow.

He grins. “Can I buy you a drink?” There it is.

You nod. “Absolutely.”

He removes his hand from your own to wave over the bartender once more, and you sneak another glance to the table in the corner.

Chan hasn’t moved, but you can feel his eyes boring into you.

Alpha guy slides a shot in front of you, and holds up his own, as if in toast.

“To being friendless tonight then.” You laugh and hold up your own glass to clink against his.

“To being friendless.”

You down the bitter alcohol in one swoop, and the guy beside you does the same. It burns on the way down, warming you from the inside out, but not as much as Chan’s narrowed gaze burns you up from the shadows.

“Anyway, I-” The guy beside you starts to say, and you brace yourself for him to make a move, when you’re saved by another guy appearing from the dance floor at just that moment, hair matted with sweat, eyes wild as they fall on your male counterpart.

“Dude. There you are!” He slaps the guy beside you on the shoulder so hard he winces. “Come dance with us!”

The guy glances to you, and you give him a smile, before shrugging.

“No longer friendless I guess.”

He offers you a regretful look as his buddy, who hasn’t even noticed your presence, makes an attempt to drag him toward the writhing mass of bodies on the dance floor.

He hesitates momentarily. “I guess.” He glances to his impatient friend, and then back to you. “See you around?”

You hold up your empty shot glass in cheers.

“See you around, friendless.”

He gives you a small smile, and lets his buddy drag him off, disappearing from sight into the crowd.

He won’t see you around, but who are you to break a nice guy’s heart?

The sudden scent of thunderstorm makes you shiver, and hands clamp down roughly without warning on the bare, warm skin of your shoulders, Chan’s teeth against your throat making you jump slightly, letting out a gasp as he bares them and drags the sharp points of his canine across the sensitive skin.

His fingers close around the front of your throat, holding you in place as he presses his body-and his very clear arousal- dominantly into yours from behind, and you squirm on your seat, instant, wet heat blooming between your thighs in response to the low, dangerous timber of his voice against your ear.

“Get in the car, little alpha. We’re going home.”

******* “Are you pleased with yourself?” Chan asks after shutting and locking his bedroom door, stripping off his jacket in one slow motion, as he keeps you pinned beneath his fiery gaze.

You offer him a smug smirk, backing slowly away from him, toward the large bed, as you kick off your heels.

“Yeah, I think I am actually.”

Something minute hardens in Chan’s gaze, as he tosses his jacket aside, and takes a stalking step in your direction.

“You like being contrary?” He questions in a low tone, though you can tell by the dangerous spark in his golden eyes and the punishing stance of his body that he already knows the answer. Another step. “You like making me jealous?”

You cock your head and sink onto the edge of the bed with a triumphant expression.

“Yes.”

His eyes flash and he takes another menacing step toward you.

“You like seeing me upset with you? Like seeing me insane out of my mind with possessiveness?”

You nod, and your entire body aches in delicious anticipation.

He rolls his tongue in his cheek-an angry motion, but it’s entirely too hot-and pins you beneath his gaze, taking that last step toward you before knocking your knees apart and stepping between them, forcing you to look up at him now as he towers over you.

Your entire body quivers as his thunderous scent crashes over you in one, violent wave.

His fingers find their way into your hair, tangling there, tugging against your scalp, and without warning, he wrenches your head back to make you look up at him, forcing a slight gasp from between your lips at the delicious, punishing sting.

He leans down until your noses are brushing, golden, heated eyes flashing furiously, his voice dropping into a growl that makes your insides melt instantly into hot need between your thighs.

“You want me to punish you, little alpha?”

You nod without thinking, and when you speak, your voice is noticeably breathless, a needy little whimper, a plea to his angry alpha.

“Yes.”

His lips quirk wickedly, and he releases his hold on your hair, shoving you back on the bed as he crawls to straddle you with a growl, his hand going to your throat and his knees going on your arms to completely pin you in place.

Every nerve is tingling at the feel of his weight on your own.

“Oh, baby.” He purrs, as he arches a brow at you smugly, lips curling into a smirk that has you squirming beneath him with need.

He runs a finger slowly down the hot, flushed skin of your throat, and a whine is ripped from your lips without your consent.

His breath is hot against the shell of your ear as he leans down and whispers dangerously, “It’s funny how you think I care what your answer to that question is. Because we both know, you’re going to be punished for your little show earlier whether you want to be or not.”

You swallow, your throat bobbing, and his eyes spark predatorily at the slight show of weakness.

His fingers tighten around the column of your throat, and your breath stutters to a stop in your chest.

“Besides-” He leans into you, his obvious hardness between your legs making you whimper, and drags his teeth down the skin of your throat, over your mating mark, before he bites down, hard, hard enough to hurt, but only enough to heighten the sudden, intense need you feel.

You writhe in his hold, and he flicks his eyes to yours, before lathing his tongue over the stinging mark reddening your skin.

“-I think you need a little reminder of who you belong to, don’t you?”

You nod, breathless, and he pinches your cheeks between his fingers.

“Words, baby. Use them.”

“Yes. I need a reminder.”

Pride flashes across his gaze at your consenting words, and he reaches for the buckle of his jeans, baring himself and making you shiver beneath him as you hungrily drink him in, nestled still between your legs.

He hikes up your skirt with his other hand, and you openly pant, as he slides a finger along the skin of your inner thighs, testing your wetness.

He openly groans, responding to your harsh intake of breath at his touch, and meets your wild gaze with the hooded darkness of his own, licking his lips slowly as he preps you.

“Listen closely.” He shifts against you, and you feel as if your entire body sparks into a raging fire at the feel of him.

He leans one hand into the bed right above your head, holding himself above you, and you resist the urge to tug him down and crash his lips into yours.

He’s in control right now, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Your muscles tense and quiver as he leans into you, breath hot as it washes across your skin, and lowers himself another inch between your legs, testing you.

You suck your bottom lip between your teeth and bite down so hard you taste copper.

Chan’s eyes flash, and his voice is a commanding growl, as he tugs your head back once more to meet his gaze.

“You’re going to take every inch of me, without a sound, like a good girl who accepts her punishment, and then, when we’re done, I’ll reward you with a release. Understood?”

You nod, and he gives you a hard, silent look, spurring you on to remember to use your words, like he’s always so fond of.

“Yes, alpha.” You reply obediently, and his expression shifts, and without warning, he sinks into you.

You bite back the gasp threatening to break from your throat, and Chan groans, low and long, in the back of his own throat, clenching his teeth against your skin as he digs his fingers into the bed above your head.

“Good fucking girl.” He growls out, and begins to move, and you’re pretty sure you see stars.

Being with Chan is always like this-hot and fast and punishing at first-but always completely worth it in the end.

He lets his teeth graze down your shoulder as you arch up into him, across the still aching mating mark, and down the skin of your upper arm, pausing as his teeth brush the obvious outline of your birth control implant beneath your flesh.

He pauses, both of you breathless in the space between you, and then he glances up from his position above your stomach, pinning you down with the intensity of his suddenly heated stare.

He ducks his head, holding your gaze, and lets his teeth graze across the implant once more, tugging at it slightly with his sharp canines in a way that makes you tingle and pant for breath.

“Some day, little alpha-” He muses below the sound of your lost breath, running his fingers over the raised skin, and the device beneath, scratching at it slightly, enough to sting your already sensitive skin. “I’ll rip this out, and fill you up with all my pups.”

You clench up with his searing words, and Chan sucks in a harsh breath in response, smirking up at you as you quiver beneath him.

“Ah, you like the sound of that, hm, baby?” He grins wickedly, letting the wet heat of his mouth suck on the skin that covers the implant once more, your body convulsing in response.

“Like the thought of alpha’s pups, hm?” He murmurs against your skin, kissing along the line of your arm, before he nips the skin above the implant sharply once more, rising up again to meet you, covering your mouth roughly with his own. “I’ll give them to you, baby, all of them. Fill you up so good.”

Fuck.

His tongue tangles with yours, and he moves again, and everything blacks out in a sea of wave after wave of pleasure.

******

You’re lying in the middle of the bed, still trying to come down from the high moments earlier, chest heaving, when Chan chuckles without prompting from his spot between your legs.

You glare at him weakly from beneath the safety of your arm, flung across your face, and stick your tongue out at him.

“What?”

You jump slightly at the first feel of the warm rag he’d brought from the bathroom against your inner thighs, but instantly relax into his tender, but firm hold, as he begins to wipe down your legs, cleaning you up in smooth strokes.

“Nothing.” He shakes his head with another chuckle, and glances at you when he gives your inner thigh another swipe. “You just really are a brat.”

You grin and hide back behind your arm, suddenly tired to the bone with the feel of his hands on you and the warmth of being cleaned.

“It’s what I do best.”

He hums beneath his breath in response, and there is silence for several moments as he continues to clean you methodically.

You feel yourself sinking into the soft mattress, your eyes and body growing heavy.

“I know the guy, by the way.” Chan speaks up again, and you raise your head off the bed to glance at him in bleary, tired, post sex confusion.

He shoots you an amused look, moving the rag to wipe the warmth across your lower stomach, his fingers looping loosely around your ankle to move you where he needs you.

“The guy at the bar.” He offers in explanation, and you furrow your brow, still not catching up.

“His name’s Sammy.” He remarks casually, before tossing the rag aside and climbing once more to straddle you on the bed, running a gentle finger down your cheekbone, across the swell of your breasts, before he leans forward to press a soft kiss to your gapped lips. “Wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

The puzzle pieces are still clicking into place in your head, and Chan sits back, watching you with open amusement now.

Suddenly, you gasp and shove him, hard, right in the center of his chest.

He doesn’t even budge, laughing again, harder this time.

“You set me up!”

Chan’s eyes twinkle with mischief, as he pins your still flailing hands back against the bed above your head and keeps you down with the weight of his body.

“I didn’t ‘set you up.’ I simply-” He shrugs, grinning cheekily down at you. “-couldn’t leave some things to chance. Not when you insisted on being so goddamn stubborn and putting yourself at risk.”

“I could’ve handled any alpha in that bar tonight.” You pout, crossing your arms over your chest as he releases you, but still refusing to look at him, out of principle.

“I know, baby.” Chan placates you warmly, leaning over to press kisses to your cheeks and mouth until you give up the pout and swat him away halfheartedly.

“So your friend-” You question, glaring up at him, even though your outrage is slipping away as quickly as it appeared in the face of his adorable dimples, revealed by his triumphant grin, curls still sweaty and tousled from your fingers.

“Sammy.”

“Sammy.” You repeat sourly, sticking your tongue out at him, and he laughs and leans forward, snapping his teeth as you yelp and quickly pull your tongue out of chomping range. “How’d you convince him then?” Chan shrugs easily, reaching up to rake a hand through his hair. “It wasn’t too hard.” He fixes you with a stern stare, and laughs again as you harumph and make a move to buck him off of you, to no avail. “Just told him I had a stubborn mate who was wanting to play the part of brat and make me jealous.”

“God.” You cover your face with your hands, suddenly embarrassed.

“Don’t worry-” Chan pulls your hands off your face, and leans down, grinning widely, as he kisses you again, slow and soft this time. When he pulls back, he’s still smiling. “-I didn’t tell him you were all hot and bothered for my possessive, dominant head alpha side. That’s our little secret, little alpha.”

He winks at you.

“Shut up.” You mutter beneath your breath as he chuckles, and this time, he lets you shove him off of you, stalking toward the bathroom.

“Baby, c’mon, it’s cute!” He calls out after you, still laughing to himself at your obvious irritation.

“Don’t come in here unless you want me to drown you in the bathtub, Christopher!” You retort back sharply over your shoulder, already seeing him rising from the bed from the corner of your eye, a wicked look on his features.

You hide a grin of your own and flit into the bathroom, flipping him off behind you for good measure.

“Oh, you’re going to pay for that.” Chan growls against your ear, as he catches you on the threshold, tugging you to him as you yelp and make a show of struggling.

“I was planning on it actually.” You grin up at him sweetly, batting your eyes innocently, and he growls once more, before tossing you easily over his shoulder and touting you into the bathroom as you shriek with laughter.

Perfect. Time for round two.

********************************************************************************

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little-diable · 10 months

Text

Little Lamb - Priest!Tom Riddle (smut)

There's just something about priest!Riddle, I love writing for him. This is a very tame Tom imagine, not nearly as dark as my others. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated. Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: The reader helps Priest Riddle with his summer camp, guiding young children through prayers, through talks about God, and religion. She had been tied to him for years, he held her heart and soul hostage, taking her whenever he desires her.

Warnings: 18+, smut, unprotected piv, sex in a church, oral (m), wrong use of rosary prayers, power play, dom!Tom, religious connotations

Pairing: Priest!Tom Riddle x fem!reader (about 3k words)

Incense, a smell so biting, (y/n) had a hard time breathing, hand darting out to grab onto the nearest wooden bench. The smell wandered up her nostrils, clinging to her like the smell of petrichor, so distinct she’d always recognise it. Water filled her eyes, begging her to turn around, to leave this church and the camp she had been forced to join.

Slowly she took another step, and another, till she finally came to halt in front of the altar. (Y/n) couldn’t remember the last time she had visited this church, nothing more than a hazy memory, a fever dream she had woken from all too suddenly, breaking through the blanket of sweat clinging to her like a veil.

Her heart was pounding, racing in her chest trying to fight against what she had been forced into. God, how she wanted to take off, running away before her parents could catch up with her plans, and yet she couldn’t, very well knowing that there was no way out.

“There you are, I was wondering where you were hiding.” His voice echoed through the church as if the Lord himself was speaking to her, booming like thunder rippling through the night, heavy like bricks weighing her drowning frame down. The sound of his shoes meeting the stone ground rang in her ears, one by one, reminiscent of the lives he was praying for.

(Y/n) didn’t dare look at him, eyes directed forwards, staring at the cross that must weigh a few hundred pounds, heavier than any weight she’d be able to lift. She felt him come to a halt next to her, hands clasped together in front of him, shoulders pulled back to appear even taller.

“Look at me.” It was a soft command, and yet he didn’t offer her any room to pull back. But (y/n) couldn’t move, glassy eyes not daring to blink not even once, scared that she’d mess up on her first day, not ready to face her parents' wrath. “(Y/n).”

Priest Riddle singsang her name, cold fingers finding her chin. Slowly he turned her face towards him, moving as slow as somebody exploring a new piece of art, unsure what to expect, taking their time to admire every inch of the masterpiece. Their eyes met, bound together by the strength he emanated, forcing (y/n) closer and closer.

“There’s nothing to fear, you’re safe here, with me.” Before she could reply, choking on the quiet gasp leaving her, the door to the church was pushed open, exposing a crowd of excited children. (Y/n)’s insides churned at the sound of laughter, of excitement echoing through the morning, a sound she had once been all too familiar with.

Years ago she had been one of them, an excited child allowed to spend a weekend at church, learning more about God, about his son, and the fallen angels. She had grown within time, and even as a teenager she had joined the yearly get together, even though her weekends had taken a few unforeseen turns, making her end up with her back pressed against the priest’s mattress, choking on Tom’s name.

He was a few years older than her, had left the town to study theology, till he finally returned years later. The second he had rejoined the church, taking over from the priest he and (y/n) had been all too familiar with, he had pulled her closer, toying with her body and soul. He was a mysterious man, a man with a soul so dark even Lucifer wouldn’t dare cross paths with him, but he was good at playing this charade, faking the smiles he shot those that were too oblivious for their own good, a facade only (y/n) could see through.

“C’mon, it’s time for our morning prayer.”

……

“You’ve been here for only a few hours and you already have something to confess?” He clicked his tongue, towering over her sitting frame with a sinister smirk tugging on his lips. The cold floor pressed against her feet, biting through the fabric of her shoes all too easily like poison burning its way through her flesh. She was trembling, not daring to speak up as she got lost in his darkening eyes, wondering if this is how sinners standing in front of Lucifer must feel, forced to spend eternity trapped in the blackest kind of darkness. “Little lamb, what shall I do with you?”

Both knew the answer to that, both knew that he’d do as he pleases, making her body tremble like Noah’s arch had, trapped in a thunderstorm that could rip her body apart. She heavily swallowed as she watched the priest take a step back, eyes ranking over her frame.

“Kneel, (y/n).” She dropped to her knees without speaking a single word, staring up at the man that held as much power over her as God once had. Oh, how disappointed her parents were, feeling her slip from their and from God’s grasp, forcing her to rejoin this camp as the priest’s helping hand. (Y/n) couldn’t help but wonder how they’d react to seeing this very scene playing out, watching the man undo his black trousers, freeing his hardening cock with skilled movements. “You know what to do, or have you already forgotten your place in this game?”

“Of course not.” (Y/n) felt anger simmering inside of her, how dare he play with her like that, how dare he think that she’d ever forget how to please him. Her desire for him urged her on, wanting to prove to the smirking man that only she could make him feel good, that only she knew how to please him.

With trembling hands she grasped his cock, spitting into her palm to soften the touch, coaxing a satisfied groan out of him. She swallowed him down all too easily, eyes not daring to break contact, not even as he jerked his hips, making her choke on him. Her tears fell like the ones Mary had cried for her son, for Christ Crucified, one with the sadness his death forced through those that had dared to believe in him and his mission.

“See, only a sinning woman like you could touch me like this. I should punish you, should fuck you till you pass out, over and over again, till Lucifer loosens his grip on your soul. But, where would be the fun in that, right?” His ringed hand tugged on her hair, forcing her even closer with his tight grip, making another wave of tears well up in her glistening eyes.

(Y/n) could only hum around his cock, letting the sound vibrate on his skin, making goosebumps rise on his forearms. It was a beautiful sight, the pleasure drunken expression she’d think of whenever her nights felt lonely, needing to take care of the heat flaring up inside of her.

She’d forever remember the feel of his soft skin pressed against her quick moving tongue, every inch had burned itself into her mind, allowing her to find him even in the darkest nights. He was hers, as much as she was his, a silent promise that kept the two blemished souls tied together, forever, even for the time following the last judgement.

He kept jerking his hips, fucking her mouth with more pressure, making the corners of her mouth burn. She didn’t dare protest, didn’t even whine as she walked along the line of pleasure and pain, and yet her cunt kept fluttering around nothing, begging to be filled by him. Curses rolled off the priest’s tongue, the cross chain around his neck rested peacefully on his chest, rising and falling with every deep exhale.

Once again their eyes met as he came down her throat, forcing her to swallow every drop as if he was pouring consecrated wine into her mouth. Her moans left the man smirking, stepping away from her to tug his cock back into his trousers. For a few more seconds he studied her before his eyes flickered to his watch, “Be a good girl for me today, and you’ll be rewarded.”

……

The fabric of her dress kept stroking her knees with every hurried step (y/n) took, trying to find the still missing kids, calling them to Priest Riddle’s evening prayer. They had just finished their dinner, able to relax after a day filled with summer activities, with a swim (y/n) had gladly joined – simply to tease the man with wandering eyes, taking in her wet appearance, drenched from the cold water.

“Guys, come on, we don’t want to miss our prayer, do we?” (Y/n) could still remember all these weekends she had spent here, how she had made new friends, how she had shared her first kiss with the man that now fucked her ruthlessly whenever he was dreaming of her, the sweetest kind of relief.

Priest Riddle towered over the altar, eyes taking in the crowd of excited children, before his eyes finally found hers. He watched her close the door, giving him a small nod to give him the signal, starting the prayer with a satisfied hum. The words he spoke rolled off his tongue all too effortlessly, filling the church with the kind of magic the children found themselves amazed by.

But (y/n) couldn’t pay any attention to his words, to his prayers, mind set on the things he’d hopefully do to her. She had decided against wearing any panties, begging whoever dared to pick up on her sinful thoughts that Tom would fuck her till she forgets her own name.

His voice was softer than silk, wrapping itself around her, cradling her closer like a drug blurring out her surroundings. She couldn’t stop watching him, couldn’t stop admiring him as if she was staring at something her human eyes haven’t been fortunate enough to take in before. It was easy, almost too easy, to love him, a sick, toxic relationship she couldn’t flee from, no matter how hard she’d try, he’d always lure her back into his trap.

“You see, I wonder what goes on inside your pretty little head while you stare at me like that, little lamb.” His voice rang in her ears, breath hitching in her chest as she felt his hands on her waist, toying with the fabric. She couldn’t reply, forced away by the call of her name, eyes flickering back to him before she crouched down to the child begging for her attention. The seconds faded by, and yet (y/n)’s mind was still stuck on his words, on the roughness of his voice, wondering how much longer he’d drag out their back and forth.

(Y/n) found her way back to the church the second the kids were in bed, finding rest in their rooms, sharing stories of this very day, full of excitement for the days to come. She had stumbled out of the building as fast as she could, called back to him like a lost lamb searching for its flock. He guided her closer, back pressed against the altar he was leaning against with his arms crossed, with his fingers holding onto his wooden rosary and his bible.

No words were spoken as she came to a halt in front of the man, allowing her eyes to take in his features, wondering how much time God had invested into the man’s creation, sparing extra time on the details she easily picked up on. He reached one hand out for her to take, feeling the wooden pearls pressing into her palm before he pushed the rosary over her head, letting it dangle from her neck.

Their lips met for a kiss, a kiss so heated (y/n) had to grasp his collar, scared that she’d tumble from his grasp. Their moans filled the church like soft music made to lure those that needed some extra guidance closer, but tonight nobody would dare to interrupt them, unable to open the locked doors. She was turned around, small of her back pressed against the altar as his fingers began moving, disappearing underneath her dress, momentarily freezing as he felt her naked cunt.

No warning was spoken as he plunged two fingers into her tightness, expectedly curling them against her swollen spot. (Y/n) couldn’t swallow her moans, giving room to the sounds that rumbled through her as her head rolled back, allowing Tom to kiss her throat, teeth grazing her skin. He fucked her with his fingers for a few moments, thumb circling her pulsing clit to push the sweetest feeling of anticipation through her veins.

“I should punish you for walking around like this, I should punish you for whoring yourself out to me. But you’ve got me bound to you, addicted to the feeling of your cunt clenching my cock.” His words forced another moan to leave her, eyes rolling back as he added more pressure to his touch. Tom pulled away all too quickly, flipping her around to press her front against the top of the altar. She could barely breathe through the excitement filling her, listening to the sounds of Tom undoing his trousers, freeing the cock she had choked on hours ago.

“Start praying, may He grant you his forgiveness.” His rough voice shot shudders down her spine, momentarily distracting her from the feeling of his cock brushing through her slit, lubing himself up with her arousal.

“I believe in God the Father almighty, creator of heaven and earth.” Her voice trembled, eyes squeezed shut as he pushed into her, taking his time to sink deeper into her tightness. A rough “Keep on” left the priest, forcing a shaky inhale of thin air into (y/n)’s lungs as she kept speaking the Apostles’ Creed, speaking the words she knew by heart.

(Y/n)’s trembling fingers toyed with the wooden pearls, mind unable to focus on anything but the feeling of Priest Riddle fucking her from behind, sure to leave marks with the way he pushed her hips against the edge of the altar. She struggled to keep on breathing, nails digging into the thin flesh of her sweaty palms, marks so clear as if she had been to one nailed to the cross, letting the rusty metal pierce her flesh. A pain so distinct she’d forever carry it around with her, sticking to her body the way the priest was clinging to her, not daring to let her go.

“Our Father who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come. Thy will be done on earth, as it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread, and forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us, and lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil.” The prayer left her in pieces, interrupted by her moans and sighs, supported by his own sounds. It was so sinful, and yet it felt so right, bodies made for one another, made to fit their touch like wax copying their frames.

One pearl after another was touched by her, followed by the fitting prayers, urged on to keep on speaking as he pushed her closer and closer to the edge. Soon they’d let go, leaving their stains on one another, hoping that the walls surrounding them would never learn to share their secrets.

“Tell me, little lamb, how close are you?” Both knew the answer to his question, very well aware of the way she clenched around his cock, how her aching clit pulsed against his thumb. (Y/n) stumbled over her words, eyes squeezed shut in a desperate try to work through the fog of pleasure filling her mind.

“So close, ‘m so close.” She kept repeating the words, begging that he’d give in, allowing her to cum with his name burning on the tip of her tongue. Priest Riddle gave it a few more thrusts, before he let go of a simple “Cum”, easily pushing (y/n) over the edge. The rosary fell to the ground as she grasped onto the edge of the altar, eyes squeezed shut, teeth buried in her lip, allowing her orgasm to rock through her.

Was God watching them? Staring down on her with an unfamiliar kind of apathy? Did he remind the sins she has committed numerous times in His holy walls?

She felt him fill her up, painting her walls white with his relief. Both were heavily panting, needing to give one another a few moments before they parted, taking a few steps away from the altar. No words were spoken as he tucked himself back into his trousers, staring at her with a smirk on his lips and a satisfied gaze filling his dark pupils.

“I’ll see you tomorrow morning to take your confessions. Be aware, I won’t hold back on the punishment.”

And with his release dripping down her thighs, (y/n) was forced to leave the holy halls, stumbling back to her room with her heart racing on.

#Tom Riddle smut #Tom Riddle imagine #priest fic #harry potter imagine

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darkwolf989 · 2 months

Note

Is it okay if it is a one shot instead? I don't want to force you to do anythinggg 😭😭😭 it's my own preference!!

Hi There!

I will DEFINITELY do one shots when requested! They’re so much fun to write about, and honestly this is one of my favorite things to write about. I think to keep it organized from the “Outside The Office” series I’ll respond directly to the request with the story attached and add that to the master list.

You asked specifically for Val or Vox x reader and their little girl, so I tried to give both Val and Vox their time to shine in respective, responsible, parental roles. If you want a specific Vox x reader and their little girl or a specific situation for Val x Reader and their little girl, let me know! There are SO MANY to choose from but this is the first one that came to mind!

As always, enjoy! Feedback is always, always appreciated and valued!

“Princessa, hold still.” Valentino grumbled to the squirming toddler. His hands moved as quickly as they could, weaving her blonde hair into braids. “Princessa, stop, I don’t want to pull your hair.”

She let out a shriek and Valentino quickly wrapped the end of the braid in a soft pink hair tie before he scooped her up into his arms and rocked her gently, tucking her against him. “Shush, princessa, daddy is here.”

Never did Valentino ever think he would be calling himself daddy in the most appropriate context of the word.

She quieted quickly and snuggled into him. Valentino smoothed back her hair and pressed his lips to her forehead. Cooler than she was an hour ago. But not quite broke of her fever yet. Definitely due for her next dose of medicine.

She stuck her thumb in her mouth and sucked vigorously- a habit he despised with every fiber of his being. Honestly, he’d rather let her just have the pacifier but his wife was insistent that she break the habit. It wasn’t good for her teeth, she said.

He guessed she would know more about it than he did. She read more books on the subject than he had, and he had read quite a few himself as he tried to teach himself how to be the father he had never had. Truth be told, when his wife first found out she was pregnant, he was both ecstatic and terrified. A baby of his own- of their own. What if he fucked it up? What if something went wrong and he lost them both in the process? But the first three years of his little girl's life proved to be the opposite- he loved her with every fiber of his being.

The flutter of the kicks during the first nine months of her life. Listening to her heartbeat for the first time. Watching the love of his life, his reader bring her into the world, and the first time he held her in his arms- she was so tiny he was afraid of hurting her.

He remembered sitting in the hospital room, holding her as his wife slept, when the nurse came in and suggested that he take his shirt off and doing skin to skin contact with the baby.

“That’s a mom thing, I’m not her mom, I’m her dad,” he protested as loudly as he dared, so as to not wake the sleeping infant.

The nurse said it didn’t matter. The process would help her regulate her temperature and her heart rate- it was biology. Beneficial to them both. Reluctantly, he handed her off his baby and unbuttoned his shirt. The nurse handed her back to him and guided him to hold her against his chest, over his heart, and covered her with the smallest pink blanket.

“There you go Dad, just like that,” she told him.

Dad. No one had ever called him that before. At least, not in the true sense of the word.

Overnight, the top floor of the V tower he and his wife shared with Vox and Velvette had turned into a hybrid of ruthless overlords and a little kid's dream house. Neither aunt nor uncle spared any expense the moment they found out he and his wife were expecting a little girl, and Velvette herself had designed her pink princess themed room that his daughter called her own.

Not that she slept there. For a while, she was in a bassinet. And then a crib. And as soon as she was mobile she crawled into her parents bed and that was it. She slept between them, and more than once he and reader were grateful they had a big bed. For such a tiny kid, she sure took up space. They would have to break that habit he swore he would never develop, but according to the books he read- it really was okay, at least, for the time being.

“Dada,” she muttered. “Don’t feel good.”

He snapped his attention back to her. “I know babygirl. Come on, Daddy’s going to make you feel better.” He lifted her up and carried her into the kitchen.

One of the only benefits of being home with a sick toddler was simply that he didn’t have to go into work today- he could stay at home with his little girl. Normally his wife would be the one who handled all the care, but today was day two of his sweetheart’s sickness, and his wife was spent. And so, he put her to bed and the last time he checked, she was fast asleep.

And now as he filled the plastic syringe with a mix of bubblegum pink medication and juice, he half heartedly regretted that decision.

“No!” She screamed when she saw the dropper. “No! No! NO!”

No. It was her favorite word, one he was both proud and unhappy that she knew. Honestly, he couldn’t blame her for her refusal. He had tasted the sticky liquid himself out of curiosity and immediately regretted the decision. In all of hell’s amazing medical advances, could’t they make something that tasted good?

“Dollface, I know,” he said to her tiredly. “Look, I’ll make you a deal. You take this, and I’ll take you down to see Uncle Voxxy and his sharks, okay?”

That perked her up.

“Sha ka. Now.” She demanded.

He held up the medicine dropper. “Medicine first. Then sharks.”

“Sha ka!” She demanded.

“Then open up,” he replied, taking her chin in his hand. “All of it goes into your tummy. Then sharks.”

She gave him a look of disdain that inwardly made him wince, but she opened her mouth. Honestly, he feared what her teenage years would look like if she was this defiant at three. He stuck the syringe in her mouth and slowly pressed down on the plunger.

“Swallow it. All of it.” He reminded her. “The sooner it goes from your mouth to your tummy, the sooner you can have juice.”

To his relief, she swallowed it and he handed her a bottle of juice. Also probably not the best parenting decision, letting her be on a bottle this long, but the pacifier battle was enough of a fight. Even with Vox and Velvette’s help, they had to pick and choose their battles.

“Sha ka.” She demanded, reaching for him to pick her back up.

Valentino sighed but lifted her into his arms. She snuggled into his neck and that feeling of love, of protectiveness washed over him. He held her a little bit tighter as he carried her towards the elevator, pausing only to grab the diaper bag at the entryway.

Love. It was his field of expertise. But nothing, not even the day he married his wife, could compare to the type of love he felt the first time he held his daughter in his arms. It was different than anything he had ever felt- pure and protective. That feeling had never gone away, even on the roughest of nights, when his wife struggled to stay awake every few hours, struggling to feed this tiny little creature that now depended on them for her every need. Of taking turns holding her until she granted them both the mercy of sleep.

“Sha ka!” She screeched as he stepped into Vox’s office. She struggled in his arms and Valentino set her down.

“Aw, how’s my little peanut? Come to Uncle Voxxy!” Vox turned around in his chair.

Valentino watched as she took off to him and jumped into his arms. For the overlord of technology, he turned into mush around the little girl. And she felt the same way about him, that much was obvious.

“Yeah, you wanna see the sharkies? Come on, we’ll go see the sharkies!” Vox lifted her up and looked at Valentino. “You look like shi- fuck. Crap. I mean, you look like you need a shower.”

“Swear jar. Three quarters. No exception.” Valentino half joked.

The first time his daughter called her stuffed animal a word no toddler should say, Velvette in all her genius introduced the swear jar. The rest of them resisted at first, but it wasn’t like they couldn’t afford it. Vox struggled the most with the no cursing rule around the kid rule and as a result, she had enough in her piggy bank to buy herself a new car if she wanted. Sometimes, Valentino wondered if he did it on purpose. After all, she could spend the money however she chose and Valentino had a feeling that it would be spent at the toy store the next time he and his wife went out of town.

Or he would just buy her whatever she wanted and let her keep it. The word spoiled didn’t exist in his vocabulary. At least, not when it came to her.

“I mean it Val, let me take her for a bit. Go get cleaned up. Maybe lay down for a few minutes. I got the baby, yes I do, yes I do!”

He looked down at himself. Black tee shirt, and yesterday's sweatpants. Probably baby vomit from when she got sick earlier. But a shower sounded like a fantastic idea- a dream, really.

“She puked earlier, and she’s still running a fever. You sure you want that?” Valentino warned doubtfully as he handed Vox the diaper bag.

Vox shrugged. “Push comes to shove I’ll bring her upstairs and get her changed. Not a big deal.”

Valentino watched her snuggle into him and her bottle fell to the floor as her thumb went right back into her mouth, leaving baby drool and Lucifer knew what else all over his shirt. He bent down and picked it up, handing it to Vox.

“You don’t want to help with bath time tonight, do you?” Valentino asked hopefully.

Vox laughed. “Ha! Not on your life! I know what a little terror this princess is with water, yes I do! Yes I do!”

She let out a cross between a giggle and a shriek as he lightly tickled her.

“Go, Val. Shoo. We’re fine, I promise.” Vox reiterated as he turned back towards his desk. “Say bye bye to Daddy, babygirl, we’re going to go see sharks!”

“Sha ka!” she shrieked. “Uncie Voxxy! Sha ka!”

“Alright. Princessa, be good for Uncle Voxxy okay?” He kissed her forehead. Cooler, but not as cool as she was earlier. He turned and walked out the door to the sound of Vox cooing to her.

He walked back up the stairs and took as quick of a shower as he could, hoping he didn’t disturb his sleeping love. To his relief, reader didn’t move from where she lay, fast asleep. A pang of guilt. Being a full time mom was no joke, and he wished he could help her more. But hell would freeze over before he allowed his little girl in the studio- it was bad enough reader came in from time to time. He hated his wife seeing him in that role.

He pulled on clean clothes- jeans and a black shirt and bent over, pressing a kiss to her forehead. Was it him, or did she feel warm too? She blinked, and let out a tired yawn as she looked up at him. He saw the panic in her eyes.

“What time is Val? Where is the baby?” she asked, swinging herself out of bed.

“Baby is with Vox, go back to sleep my love,” he said soothingly as he caught her before she could stand up. “You need to rest.” He carefully looked at the watch on her wrist and opened the synched app on his phone. She was running a temperature too. Son of a bitch. “Do you feel okay?”

He listened to her as she inhaled and broke out into a coughing fit that sounded similar to what the kid had come down with. She shook her head no.

Double fuck.

“Honey, I’m going to bring you some medication and a drink. Do you want water or juice?” he asked.

“Water is fine.” She buried her face in her hands, only looking up when he brought both over to “I need a shower.”

“You’re free to do whatever you want, my love. I’ve got the baby.” He smoothed back her hair as she swallowed the drugs. “You rest, I need you to feel better too.” He pulled her to his chest and kissed the top of her head. “I can only do this by myself for so long. I need you back to full force, and that means lots of rest for you.”

She broke into a laugh that turned into a coughing fit. “That’s going to mean less sleep for you.”

“I’ll manage.” He wrapped his arms around her and cradled her head to his chest for a moment. “Go shower, love. I’m going to free Vox from her grasp.”

She nodded and he stood up. He waited outside the door for a few minutes until he heard the water running. Only then did he make his way back down the stairs.

“Princessa? Vox?” He called as he walked into the studio.

Vox turned around in his chair and shook his head, pressing a finger to his lips. Even from a distance, Valentino could see her tucked against Vox, his sleeves rolled up and his jacket covered her like a blanket. The drool stains on his shoulder were larger now, and was he wearing a different shirt?

“Shush, you’ll wake the baby,” Vox said softly as he carefully stood up and adjusted her against him.

She snuggled into his neck and started to fuss. Vox carefully handed her back to Valentino, ensuring she stayed wrapped up in his jacket.

“Hey baby, Daddy is here,” Valentino said quietly as he adjusted her in his arms. “Thanks, Vox.”

“Don’t mention it. That kid will rule the world someday, mark my words. I’ll see you after work tonight, happy to watch her for a few hours so you can get some rest too.” Vox handed him back the diaper bag. “She did puke by the way. Bright pink medicine, all over my shirt- totally wrecked it. Thank god you keep an extra tee shirt in the diaper bag, and I keep a spare set of my own in the office. I cleaned her up the best I could. But she fell asleep right after and I didn’t want to move her any more than I had to.”

God, there were definitely some parts of being a parent that were completely gross, even for Valentino.

She was fast asleep by the time Valentino carried her back upstairs. He pressed his lips to her forehead and was relieved to find she wasn’t burning up. A cool washcloth should help. He checked in on his wife, and seeing her fast asleep, made his way to the living room and laid down on the couch. It was a risk to lay the cloth on her neck but thankfully she didn’t stir.

As he laid on the couch with her in his arms, he wondered how he would get through the next few days, and hoped that whatever sickness took both his girls down stayed far, far away from him. He needed to take care of them, after all.

#valentino x reader #valentino x wife #valentino x you #the vees #hazbin fluff #vox x reader #the vees x reader #valentino #hazbin hotel #valentino hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel valentino #vox hazbin hotel #voxval #hazbin hotel fandom #hazbin x reader #hazbin #velvette #voxvel

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weirdly-specific-but-ok · 4 months

Text

a good omens grieving update because if I'm crying at 5 am you better be too.

Good morning, maggoty loves of mine. Despite all attempts to distract myself and you all with wedding cakes and dresses and textposts, it is five in the fucking morning, and I've been crying for half an hour already.

I'm listening to the Pentatonix cover of Hallelujah on loop and I will never be normal about anything ever again and there is nothing you, I, God, Satan or even Neil can do about it.

@mirrorleaf was kind enough to hijack my stupid royal family post with this fucking gorgeous edit of season 1 set to Hallelujah. Thank you, I'm now fucking sobbing and I found another edit again of season 1 and then I read fics and now I'm NOT FUCKING OKAY.

All the times Aziraphale looks up to Heaven and prays, how hopeful and desperate he is, and then the way he looks at Crowley while he's pinned against the wall, entirely calm and sure and safe.

And the song playing with Love is not a victory march, it's a cold and it's a broken hallelujah over Crowley crying over alcohol when he thought Aziraphale had died. I'm not okay.

I need to watch season 1 again. When I watched it first, it was in two installments with you maggots on livestream, and the first installment was like two days after I was kidnapped as Mascot of Good Omens. Needless to say, it was all a fever dream.

Then I watched this edit now and there's so much. There's so much fucking layers and emotion and nuance that I didn't notice. And it's absolutely going to wreck me and then I'll have to rewatch season 2 and by then I'll have no self-preservation and I'll have read the book and I'll never ever be okay again and I'll have to live with it.

You all really just found a guy on the internet and fucking wrecked him, huh. This fandom really just did that. Now salt and pepper shakers made me think about Crowley's Fall and the inherent transience of human nature and The angel you knew is not me.

It hurts. I thought I was ridiculous about Drarry. No I was entirely fucking reasonable about Drarry. This is a gut punch except to the throat. Repeatedly.

I remember when I made a post a day or two after finishing season 2 and someone, @thescholarlystrumpet it was probably you, told me that grief isn't a linear process and to take care. To anyone outside this broken fandom, that would seem like a disproportional response to a show's season 2 finale when we know that it will end happily. Everyone in this fandom knows how much that reminder is needed, though.

Besides, though we know that the show ends happily, we know that Aziraphale and Crowley will be together and it is inevitable, how does it still fucking hurt so much? I knew all the spoilers, technically, of the show before I started, and it still surprised me with the emotions.

I had to stop writing this post for a few minutes because an image came to my mind and I had to sketch it. Of how I'd felt when I came here, lonely and frightened, and how the fandom grabbed me and forced me to watch the show and how much it hurts and how beautiful it is and how it feels like a mirror. A shattered mirror, one that's soaked with all our blood and tears, but it showed me I wasn't alone. So here, have this brief sketch and do NOT come at with about pretentiousness my beloved maggots because for one, I have always aspired to be pretentious and for another, THE SUN HASN'T FUCKING RISEN AND I'VE BEEN IN TEARS WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME?

Congratulations, the next time anyone asks you if you've ever killed anyone, every one of you can confidently say that yes, you are indeed directly responsible for murder. My blood is on your hands, motherfuckers, you adopted a Mascot and then killed him.

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dokidokitsuna · 7 months

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Slowly, I think I’m getting a handle on this…I tried studying the character art from my favorite dead MMORPG, Maple Story 2, and I think it helped me find a style for the shading and rendering that’s more dramatic but still sort of cartoony.

Plus, I’ve been doing a bit of script writing, which always helps me figure things out. ^^ So please enjoy the additional work I’ve done on these character concepts.

-Between these two, Magolor definitely needed the most work: you can tell because I basically drew a full character design sheet, which is something I almost never do because I don’t like repetition. XP But it doesn’t feel repetitive when I’m totally lost to begin with. ^^; I think I got a little too abstract that first time I drew him, so my focus here was to figure out the specific shape of his body and rebuild outward from there. In stark contrast to my usual Magolor designs, he’s very tall and muscular, with an imposing silhouette (especially with his cape on). Yes, he IS hiding something under all those purple bandages, but we won’t talk about it today. ;)

-I also like that his outfit gets darker the further inside you go, from the solid white cape and glittering chains, to the silver armor and gray scarves, to the skintight navy blue fit underneath. Symbolism??? Perhaps~

-Blade’s design was already pretty solid, so I just adjusted her cape a little, and then dove straight into the Rainbow Malady concept art. ^^ Phase 1 has her sprout a second eye and wings on one side of her face. Her head catches fire, as the power of the Rainbow Sword attempts to ‘burn away the darkness’. In this phase, Blade is already in a lot of pain, but remains fully conscious and can even speak, when she isn’t coughing up multicolored blood. She can recover from this on her own with a day of rest. Phase 2 is much more serious, forcing her organs outside of her body, and growing star-shaped welts over the rest of her skin. At this point, she can no longer recover without Magolor’s help-- essentially, he uses magic to shove all her organs back where they belong and stitch up the open wounds. It’s like setting a bone after it’s broken-- just as painful as the injury itself (if not more), but necessary for proper healing…which takes about a week. Phase 3 is the last and worst, transforming her arms into elongated wings and her whole body into burning plasma, on top of all the issues from Phase 2. Thankfully, she can’t really remain conscious in this phase-- she’s usually delirious from fever, blood loss, and her brain literally burning away. ^^; Storywise, she needs about a month to recover from this, so she doesn’t use it too often…of course, as the 'player', you can put her through it as many times as you want. =T

-Fun fact, I guess: So the primary love language between these two characters is food. ^^ I was musing about what I could do with a protagonist arc centered around worsening illness (which is…surprisingly rare), and I thought, “so what do you do for sick people? You put them to bed, you manage their symptoms, you clean and comfort them…and most importantly, you feed them.” And then ^that little doodle basically came to me in a dream, and from there evolved the idea of Magolor showing kindness to Blade by cooking for her.

Most of the time, the little affection Magolor shows to Blade is…basically performative. Think of it like a hammy supervillain petting their cat-- it’s more of a character stim than anything else. ^^; The way Magolor talks to Blade (and especially the way he talks about her…) makes it clear that the hand-holding and headpats don’t mean much.

But on the other hand, giving Blade food and watching her cutely devour it, especially during the times when she’s bed-ridden and he doesn’t see her as often…I like to think that might genuinely endear her to him a little, enough to make it a sort of stand-out gesture. Like, if he strokes her forehead when she’s sick, that’s whatever; but when he spends 5 hours making a Maxim tomato consommé for her to eat, that’s him trying to say he cares. Maybe it’s just a tiny bit, maybe it’s just in that moment, but a small part of him truly wants her to be happy.

#i think the brain worms are gonna stop now that I’ve finally gotten this out #maybe I’ll try doodling some of the boss characters later on #kirby #gijinka #au #BLADE_Princess #magolor #dark matter swordsman

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jakes3resin · 2 months

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gosh!! magic au!! theseus! chaos of having at the base and it’s like two bucky. gale would definitely be shocked!

That au really hit me like a fever dream, my dear anon. I was thinking about the Twin Cleven AU and the Blond Bucky bit I added when I remembered I tacked on a tiny Theseus Easter egg. 30 minutes later I had Magic AU in my drafts with no memory of writing it.

But I've sketched out some thoughts for you and for those who are interested (please keep in mind the last time I watched Fantastic Beasts was a few years ago so I don't remember much):

Bucky's a Scamander by his father (Theseus and Newt's uncle) but goes by his mother's maiden name as he was taken in by her brother and his wife.

Both his parents were magic, but they died near the end of the First World War. Bucky stayed with the Scamanders for a little while before eventually going to America before he turned 4. Theseus was very close with him, and they were occasionally mistaken as father and son due to the age difference (Theseus was a war hero during the First World War if I remember correctly?) (Also that could be an AU now that I think about it but not rn)

He has a bit of a British accent, comes out more when he's using magic. Or when he's around his cousins. First time Buck hears it, he just about faints.

Went to Hogwarts solely because his parents went there, and he wanted to feel close to them. Not sure what House but leaning Hufflepuff. He seems like he'd be happy there.

Enjoyed the school somewhat, but he dealt with some bullying due to his American upbringing as well as some of the students still remembered Newt and bullied him for that connection.

His favorite animal is still the unicorn. It's just not extinct like he said to Buck. What can I say? Every Scamander is good with magical animals.

Had an accidental falling out with the Scamander family who wanted him to move permanently to England and stay with them during his schooling, but he prefered spending his summers in America and winter holidays in the castle.

Came home before he turned 18 (I guess started Hogwarts young for his grade? Idk.) And decided to blend in to Muggle/No-Maj society by going to college and later joining the Air Force.

After Bucky's revelation to the RAF pilots, one of them writes home saying he met Theseus Scamander's cousin! This gets passed through Wizarding society until it lands in the ears of Theseus who didn't have a clue his cousin was in England, let alone serving in a Muggle unit. And after hearing about the death toll, he gets scared.

Theseus resolves to pop down there and check in on his cousin. And unknowingly reeks havoc upon Thorpes Abbotts.

Looks like this:

(This is in a nebulous point before Curtis' death because he deserves to be alive my baby boy)

Literally everyone that sees him is flabbergasted because 1) Major Egan is handsome but he never dresses like That and 2) Major Egan is supposed to be flying back from a mission right now. Word travels through base, and it's alight with rumors.

Theseus gets dragged to Kidd's office because literally everyone is freaking out, and he's quite confused why everyone keeps calling him Bucky. He tries to explain that he's Theseus and that he's here to see his cousin John, but every time he speaks the people around him all jump (its cause his accent spooks them. That accent should not be coming from someone who looks so much like Bucky in their mind. Boy are they in for a rude awakening.)

Bucky flies back in, and after interrogation, he doesn't even get a chance to change clothes before he's being dragged to Kidd's office. Buck and a few of the boys follow utterly confused. If Bucky's in trouble, Buck's not just gonna stand by.

Theseus happily greets Bucky when he walks into the office, and the pair have an okay reunion before Theseus states that he's here to check on his younger cousin, heavily implying that he's here to transfer Bucky to a British outfit as he's a British citizen and their family connections want to keep him safe (really a Wizard one but among Muggles he's better at speaking around the issue)

Thus an argument breaks out. Bucky's accent also comes out, and nearly everyone around him loses their minds.

Buck really, really does not want to talk about what that accent does to him. It's confusing and concerning. (Clegan are together, but when your partner busts out the London Accent, well that's a gamechanger)

Anyways idk where it goes after that, but now everyone has to deal with the fallout that Bucky is British and has a nearly identical cousin who pops in to check on him.

#asks #magic au #that was fun thanks anon #tho now i've really got to go back to a/b/o fic and write #clegan #mota #masters of the air #bucky egan #john egan #john bucky egan #theseus scamander

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yoddhasblog · 2 months

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Mahabharat is and will always be my favourite tale to reflect upon and talk to people about. This book was immensely hyped up along with the author. I have now read three of her books. The Last Queen, which admittedly I adored. Then, the Forest Of Enchantments, the book I'd been looking forward to for such a long time. That one left me in a rage.

I went into this book expecting to be pissed off and disappointed. And I wasn't let down on that assumption.

The Palace Of Illusions is a retelling of the great Indian epic-Mahabharata. A tale incorporated so deeply into our hearts that everyone has their own takes and beliefs and opinions about it. I sincerely believe that you cannot write a retelling without angering a number of people. Well, I'm one them.

The writing style:

I didn't have too many issues except i did not get why there were so many rhetorical and philosophical questions? Literal, paragraphs that were nothing but questions.

Draupadi, the enigma, the fire-born, the one person I would fight for as long as there is life in me, why was acting as though she was a little more than a sullen child? In the book that was supposed to be from her point of view, the person, the author did the most injustice with was-Draupadi.

The plot assassination:

As I mentioned above, most of everything in the plot of the epic was butchered and mangled to fit into the author's narrative of women, good-men,bad. It is common knowledge that women's position in society was as downtrodden as depicted here. Don't get me wrong, horrific crimes happened against women and justice was also delivered adequately but the author pulled apart the entire social structure only to be able to say that every bad thing happened to Draupadi was because she is a woman.

~ In the very first chapter, Draupadi said it was egoistic of her father to give her a variation of his own name when her brother, Dhrishtadyumna got an original name. In Vyas Mahabharat, her birth name was Krishnaa but like many people in Hindu beliefs, she was also known as Draupadi, though that is the most commonly used name. So, no points to the author trying to convince everyone that this was sexist.

~ Draupadi was highly educated and trained in many things including economics and she was the one who was in charge of the treasury of Indraprastha. She was a finance minister of sorts. So, saying that King Droupad refused to let her train because she is a woman is stupid.

~Also, I've grown up listening to that Draupadi stepped out of the fire as a young woman. She wasn't a child. Some sources say she was around 16 some say around 25.

~ Are we still stuck about 50 years ago that we're going to be okay with authors portraying that all women in power are evil? Kunti and Draupadi viewed each other as rivals? Draupadi throwing temper tantrums over other women? wtf

~ Draupadi as a pick-me? Half the book Draupadi's internal dialogue is nothing but I don't know how to socialize with other women, they're jealous of each other, they're always giggling, I won't survive the world of women, I can't dance, people don't find me pretty because of my dark complexion(where did white supremacy even came in this conversation) but suddenly out of nowhere Draupadi just knows that every woman is envious of her. She adores the saris and jewellery that she used to find impossible to handle.

~ Maharishi Vyas giving Draupadi Divya drishti to see the battlefield of Kurukshetra came out of nowhere. It felt a forced action done only to show Draupadi's emotions about the deaths.

~ Draupadi harbouring hidden feelings for Karna and him secretly returning those feelings felt like a teenager's fever dream. A teenager who's hellbent on sexualizing everything they come across.

~Bhagvat Gita was witnessed by everyone on kurukshetra including the Virat roop? Again, it felt like a move forced that was done in order to show Draupadi's internal dialogue. How did the author even think she could fit Bhagvat Gita in half a chapter?

~The Pandavas just had no personality whatsoever outside of being obedient to their mother and scared of Draupadi's temper tantrums.

~Krishan ji was told to be this charismatic, carefree, silvertongued diplomat but he was simply shown as someone who randomly showed up and gave unsolicited advice.

~And I don't know what that ending was but you can't be serious telling me that Karna and Draupadi somehow end up together in heaven?

~WHAT WAS THE AUTHOR'S PROBLEM WITH RESEARCHING ABOUT MAHABHARATA???

There was no way the entire plot of Mahabharata could've fit into one book. She tried too but this book sucked. I understand it's a retelling and sometimes had to change but everything here felt so forced. The author broke everything in context to fit into her supposedly feminist ideal. Don't get me wrong, i dislike the Pandavas, the Kauravas and their elders with all my heart but they all had one dimensional personalities. They had caricature-ish depositions. I had no emotions attached to anyone in this book whatsoever. This was a headache.

#the palace of illusions #draupadi #mahabharata #kurukshetra #hinduism #hindublr #desi blog #desi life #desiblr #being desi #desi tumblr #desi tag #desi teen #desi academia #desi dark academia #desi shit posting #arjuna

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gabigabigabby · 1 year

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saved me | r. de andrade

richarlison x fem!reader

a/n: i just had this dream and OH MY GOD i need me a richarlison in my life ☹️ sry if this is badly written, i'm literally writing this dream from memory (with a few bullet points i'd written as soon as i woke up). also let's pretend richy can speak impeccable english. happy birthday richy! enjoy lads! ⭐️

synopsis: in which your guy best friend is an idiot and won't leave you alone, but richy has a boyfriend instinct

—

of course it had to conveniently rain the day you tell richarlison he didn't need to pick you up from school. and of course, you didn't think to pack your umbrella with you. you fish out your phone, about to text richy, but then remembered he's out with antony and emerson.

"y/n?" a voice called from behind you. you turned, and it was your classmate, danny.

"hey danny." you smiled.

"boyfriend's not picking you up today?" danny almost scoffed.

"i told him not to today so he could hang out with his friends. i've been hogging my time with him nowadays, so..." you shrugged.

danny nodded. "no, i get it. hey, you can wait for the rain to die down at my place. can't have you waiting for an uber here, it's not safe." you didn't want to trouble danny, but he insisted. so you found yourself in danny's passenger seat, driving back to his house.

you never knew danny enough to trust him. and it doesn't matter how many sos messages you'd sent to richy, he's probably off his phone. and will be for a while. you curse yourself for being so stubborn. he was willing enough to drop his friends for you, but you insisted he go and meet up with them.

danny pulled up into the driveway of his house. he got out of the car, unlocking the front door and allowing you to come in and take a seat. "make yourself comfortable. is there anyone i can call?"

"no," you tensed up. "i can make some calls myself, danny. thanks."

"okay." he scoffed, and as soon as he walks away, you let your anxious tears fall. you didn't know danny that well, and he almost forced you to get in his car. you'd do anything to have richy with you right here, right now.

you heard the doorbell ring, hoping it's somebody who thought something was wrong and tracked your location; hoping that somebody is richy. danny came brisk-walking out of the kitchen, going to answer the door. "i think that's my parents. hol' on."

as soon as danny answered the door, his expression changed and he disappeared behind the door. you were grateful danny left the door ajar, so you slowly creeped over towards it, peeking out of the crack danny had left.

it in fact was danny's parents, but there was another silhouette facing away from the couple. the platinum hair and bald back gave it away; it was richy. and danny was talking to him.

you slowly walked out of the house and past danny's parents, flashing them a quick smile. you moved towards richy, finding your spot next to him. as soon as he noticed you, he offered you his right arm. without hesitation, you took it, finally feeling his warmth. "are you having a fever?" you quietly questioned him.

"no," he replied, flashing a blank stare at you. you knew what it was; he was trying to control his emotions. danny was feeding him every single lie he could think of, but richy didn't buy a single word at all. "thank you. for bringing her here."

"yeah, no problem, man," danny shrugged. "did you, like, text him or something?"

you shook your head and were about to answer his question, but richy butted in at the right time. "no, i've got her location. realised it was raining, left my friends at the bar and came here straight away."

danny nodded; his turn not to buy a single word richy was offering him. "you okay?" richy asked, bending forward a little bit so he could see your face.

"yeah," you smile. "just cold."

"okay. so i guess i'll be getting out of your hair now. thanks again, for..." richy drifted off, trying to find the right words. "taking care of her."

"yeah, dude, anytime." danny nodded, richy about to direct you back to his mclaren.

"my backpack," you pull on richy's arm. "i'll go grab it—"

"no. i'll do it." richy said.

"it's on the couch." you told him as danny led him into the house. you waited for him by his car and he was in and out.

"let's go babe." richy wanted to ask the very question that'd been ringing in his head ever since finding out you weren't in school or back home. but he waited. he waited until he drove out of asshole danny's driveway and far away from his neighborhood before he could ask.

you had been sniffling since he reunited with you at danny's house, so he ran his hands through his pockets while he was driving, finding scraps of tissue, hoping you'd take it to dry your tears. "have these. are you okay?"

"i'll be fine. you saved me," you said, looking at his hands. "where are these from? they're all crumpled and shit, i don't want it."

"they're clean, babe," he said, dropping them on your thighs anyway. "look, i'm sorry. i should've known something like this was gonna happen. don't ever tell me to go along with my plans and not pick you up. you're never getting in that asshole's car again. you hear me?"

"yeah..." you mumbled.

"do you hear me, babe?" richy raised his voice a tad higher, hoping he'd make himself clear.

"yeah, rich. i won't ever get in asshole danny's car ever again. i hear you." you enunciated every word. you really meant it.

"i love you. i mean it. i'm never ditching you for my shit friends, ever."

"they're not shit—"

"they are shit if i say they're shit."

#richarlison #richarlison x reader #richarlison de andrade #richarlison pombo #richarlison 9 #football x reader #football x you #football x y/n #english football

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whumpshaped · 8 months

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Beck being sick with the flu and Helle not caring?

-- @oliversrarebooks

this is actually something i wanted to write thank u for reminding me. well i mean just beck being sick in general, but yea we'll go w the flu, thats a bitch of an illness

coming back to add this after finishing: well this wasnt what i was going for, but apparently we unlocked some more tragic backstory

masterlist

tw some magic mind scrambling, but honestly?? not much- it's a sickfic, so fever dreams and the like... emotional whump, maybe- vampire carewhumper

Beck had never felt so sick in his entire life.

Okay, maybe that was an exaggeration, but this was definitely among the top five grossest illnesses he had ever come down with. His entire body was like a furnace, and yet he was shivering uncontrollably, even under two thick blankets.

He desperately wished there was someone to take care of him. He could barely keep his eyes open all day, could barely walk with the dizziness, the fatigue, and the muscle pain, and he couldn't even refill his water bottle periodically, let alone make himself some soup. He mostly just slept, slipping in and out of consciousness.

He'd considered calling his mother, briefly. She had always been so kind. Doting. She would've made him toast with honey and butter and cut it up into the smallest pieces for him to eat. He missed her a lot, he realised. But she couldn't come to his apartment after he'd made it so unsafe. He would just have to tough it out like an adult.

He knew there was no way Helle would just skip a visit. Skip dinner. They would barge in, rip the blankets away from him, and feed. He would just have to put up with it, as always, and maybe... maybe then, he could ask them to refill his water bottle. Would they actually do that? Or would they laugh and leave him to figure it out on his own? His eyes fluttered closed again, and he drifted into another two-hour nap.

"Oh, that is a sad sight. Oh dear..." Beck forced himself to look up, his unfocused eyes settling on the blurry outline of the vampire. He didn't have his glasses, and he was too tired to get them. "What do we have here?"

"'m sick," he croaked out, immediately made aware of his dehydration by how dry his throat and mouth were. "S-sorry."

Helle walked inside, and Beck had to close his eyes again. He was so exhausted. He'd done nothing but slept all day, and he could barely tolerate being awake for a minute. "I can see that," they said quietly. "Do you... have everything you need?"

"Water... I'm so thirsty, please..."

"Have you not drunk all day?" It almost sounded accusatory, in a way. Were they scolding him? He could hear Helle pick up his water bottle from the nightstand and leave the room, and he had never felt more grateful to them. He would've gone the whole night without drinking if they hadn't come, probably.

He tried to sit up against the headboard, but it proved more difficult than he anticipated. Especially with the two blankets; they were heavy, but Beck couldn't imagine being without them for even a second.

Helle came back with a full bottle of fresh water, sitting down on the edge of his bed without a word and gently helping him drink. They placed it on the nightstand afterwards, watching as Beck slid back down into a more horizontal position.

"Thank you," he said earnestly. Helle didn't even respond.

"Have you eaten?" He shook his head, and the vampire scoffed. "Alright." They stood up and left again, closing the bedroom door behind themself. Beck could pick out the faint sounds of a phonecall, but he had no idea what it was about. He fell asleep before Helle came back into the room.

For the next hour, he didn't even know what was or wasn't a dream. He felt something cold on his forehead, then also on his hand. He heard some gentle murmurs and whispers, too quiet to make out the words. He saw his mother for a split second, and he reached out towards her. The vampire, he wanted to say. Get out of here, mom. There's a vampire here. It's not safe. The image disappeared before he could've reached her.

"Beck," someone said softly, and he opened his eyes. "Come on, dear. Sit up."

Helle was holding a tray, but he couldn't really tell what was on it from where he lay. With great effort, he pushed himself up against the headboard again, letting the vampire please the plastic tray in his lap. There was a bowl of still steaming soup sitting on top, along with a cup of tea and some medicine.

"Where did you get the soup..?" he asked slowly, looking up at them in awe. Confused, definitely, but in awe.

"I ordered some. I took money out of your wallet." Well, that was a bit less considerate. Helle grabbed his glasses from the nightstand and handed them to him, then sat on his bed again. "Contrary to what you may be inclined to believe, I do not wish for my bloodbag's untimely death. So eat."

"It's just the flu," he mumbled, and he could've sworn he saw a flash of... something, in Helle's eyes. Anger? "I'm gonna be okay. But, but thank you. Really. I'm... I'm incredibly grateful for this."

They rolled their eyes and looked away from him, letting him eat his dinner in peace. They seemed restless, Beck noted while he sipped on his tea. There was a generous amount of honey in it, and for a moment, he wondered how Helle used to drink their tea back when they were still alive.

"Is... is something wrong?" he asked eventually, and Helle shook their head.

"Are you finished?"

"Yeah. Thank you."

They took the tray and disappeared, and Beck found he was feeling a little less dead with all that food in his system. His fever was still making him disoriented and hazy, but at least he could make a trip to the bathroom without feeling like he was going to pass out.

At some point during the night, he could feel Helle crawl into bed with him, pulling him flush against their refreshingly cold body. Half-asleep as he was, it didn't even freak him out a lot. It just felt good.

"You are way too warm," they murmured.

"'m sick," he responded, as though Helle didn't already know. Spurred on by a sudden burst of feverish courage, he took their hand and placed it on his face, enjoying the cool.

"You are so sick," they said insistently. "This can kill."

"The flu won't kill me."

"You have no way of knowing."

Beck frowned a little, unsettled by this sudden interest in his well-being. "Why are you so worried?" he asked quietly, hoping it didn't come off as too rude. He didn't mind the care. He wished Helle would care so much about him on the regular.

They didn't respond for a while. Beck was starting to think they never would, given they had already ignored the question once.

"I was going to die from it," they whispered, and Beck got the sense they might be holding back tears. It was a surreal image.

They didn't say anything else, but Beck could hear how their breathing changed. Helle frequently stopped breathing altogether, under normal circumstances, sometimes specifically to freak him out — now it felt like they couldn't stop drawing shuddering breaths one after the other, only stopping for brief moments as they... choked back sobs?

"Helle..?"

"They told me I was going to die," they went on. "We had no money to spare for medicine or- or doctors. Except one, of course. The mysterious faith healer Lady Marie Brandt, who offered her services to those in need; free of charge."

It wasn't too difficult to piece together what had happened. It was... frankly, terrifying. He was sure his own mother would've let in anybody who promised to heal him, had he been in such a dire situation. And to have that doctor turn out to be a vampire– he couldn't even imagine.

"Go to sleep, Beck."

He was knocked out cold by a sudden wave of magic, plunging him into a dreamless sleep for hours.

He woke up the next day feeling a lot better, and he let out a contented hum as he stretched out. As hellish as the previous day had been, he felt a little comforted by the idea that Helle cared. Maybe it would be worth it, in the end, if only for this piece of knowledge.

As he was making his morning cup of tea in the kitchen, parts of his dreams began popping into his head. Most of it was utter nonsense, and then... there was a conversation with Helle. Something about being sick.

He sat down at the table, warming his hands on the side of the cup and trying to focus on the dream. Of course, the more he chased it, the more blurry and incoherent it got, as was often the case with dreams. Still, he wished he could've remembered... Fever dreams were always a lot of fun to type into online dream interpreter sites.

Oh well. Maybe it would come to him later.

taglist: @whumpsday @the-scrapegoat @hidden-dreamland @dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night @delicateprincepaper @whumppmuhw @florissimps @nicolepascaline @oliversrarebooks @the-cyrulik @pirefyrelight

#at my beck and call #whump #whump writing #helle #beckett #vampire caretaker #??#carewhumper #sickfic #emotional whump

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whataperfectwasteoftime · 2 years

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Hello, my sweetest Penny.

Tell me… how would Marcus react if he caught you using your vibrator when you were supposed to working at home to “catch up with some paperwork” away from the office.

He comes home to surprise you with lunch and it’s him who gets the real surprise.

Cristina, you absolute menace, you.

I wrote this in a fever dream in two days AT MY DESK AT WORK in the world's teeniest, tiniest browser window with the text as small as possible. I am UNHINGED. I hope you like what I came up with >:)

Again, Again

Pairing: Marcus Pike x f!reader (wife)

Rating: E (SMUT, 18+ only)

Word Count: 3.1k

Warnings: Overstimulation, multiple orgasms, CNC, D/s vibes, use of vibrators

Summary: Marcus comes home to surprise you with lunch. In the end, who's the most surprised?

A/N: This fic contains CNC (consensual-non-consent). All parties are enthusiastically consenting, there is a safeword system in place that is explicitly mentioned. I've ALWAYS wanted to explore this, but I must give all credit to the amazing @leslie-lyman, who has shared some absolutely underwear-destroying snippets of her own CNC!Marcus with me, and I consider anything to do with CNC+Marcus Pike to be her intellectual property. Thank you, darling Leslie, for the beta and for letting me play around with this trope myself :D :D Title is from a Lady Gaga song of the same name.

Masterlist

Marcus listens intently as the handcuffed man sitting opposite him in the cramped interview room feeds him name after name, single-handedly dismantling a massive art theft operation in exchange for a lighter sentence.

Every so often, Marcus nods thoughtfully, prompting the other man to continue. He writes observations in his field notebook, reminders to look into one thing or the other, although the recorder beside him is picking up every word (which he’ll go back over in detail several times in the next several days).

Marcus Pike is nothing if not thorough. He’s careful, methodical, and patient in his job, giving him an advantage over other, more hotheaded Agents who are too eager, too reckless in their pursuit of law and order that they miss important details. He might get sidelong looks from those who are reluctant to slow down and think for a damn minute, but his case record speaks for itself. He’s put more art thieves, forgers, and crooked dealers behind bars than anyone in the department.

At a lapse in the other man’s monotone delivery of names and places, Marcus looks up expectantly. “Is that everything?” he asks.

“That’s all I know, man,” the criminal responds. “I told you everything.”

Marcus nods and thanks him politely and graciously–speaking to him as if he were a colleague and not a man who was about to return to a holding cell.

“You did a good thing,” Marcus assures him, turning back once more as he leaves the room. “This will give you years of your life back.”

Walking down the corridor back to his office, Marcus pulls out his phone to check the time: 11:45. Perfect. He pulls out his phone and sends a text.

How goes the paperwork situation?

Your response comes almost immediately:

I’m fucking buried! But it’s getting better. Glad I stayed home to work on it.

Marcus smiles to himself. He usually types up his case notes as he goes, but you’re terrible about leaving all of the administrative stuff until it piles up and you’re forced to spend a day doing nothing but writing paperwork. He types out another text.

Miss your pretty face, though.

This is why I have to work from home! You’re a tempting distraction.

Marcus is sure he’s grinning like an idiot now, but he can’t stop.

Be good and do your paperwork and maybe I’ll show you just how much of a distraction I can be ;)

The message is marked as ‘seen’ almost immediately, but it takes a few minutes to respond. Marcus watches the three little dots appear, disappear, and reappear, before a new text appears.

MENACE. Go away. <3

Marcus laughs to himself and puts his phone away. He taps on his partner’s office door. “Popping out for lunch,” he announces. “Gonna grab something and take it home for my wife.”

He picks up some Thai on his way, from the spot just around the corner from your house that you both love. He hums to himself as he walks the remaining block, happy to get a little break from work to see you.

Marcus unlocks and opens the door as silently as he can, wanting to surprise you. The house is quiet–as he would expect. He slips off his shoes and pads over to your shared office with the bag of lunch to surprise you, but he’s the one who receives the surprise: you aren’t there. Before he can wonder where you’ve gone, though, he hears a soft sound from the bedroom. Marcus cocks his head to the side. It had sounded like–

Another sound comes, this one unmistakably a small moan of pleasure. It’s then that Marcus notices the low hum of your vibrator. A slow, devious smile spreads across his face.

— �� — — — — — — — — — —

Your hips shift up as your orgasm approaches. God, you love working from home. This is the perfect break from endless paperwork. The tension in your shoulders, the eyestrain from staring at a computer screen, all of it is forgotten as you writhe on the bed. You’ve allowed yourself the decadence of being totally naked, taking your time, sending yourself higher at a leisurely pace. It feels as if it’s been ages since you’ve had the time to yourself like this. It’s not that Marcus doesn’t keep you incredibly satisfied (oh, God, he fucking does), but there’s something different about doing it yourself. It’s for you, and only for you.

You’ve been teasing yourself for long enough–forcing yourself to make it through a fifteen-minute video before allowing yourself to come. Finally, you stop the meandering path of the vibrator and press it directly on your clit. You come almost immediately, bucking your hips and arching your back with a little gasp.

“So much for paperwork, huh?”

You shriek at the unsuspected voice, damn near throwing the vibrator across the room. Marcus goddamn Pike is standing in your bedroom doorway carrying a bag of takeaway and wearing a positively devilish expression.

“Marcus!” you cry out in a combination of shock, embarrassment, and exasperation.

“I was going to bring you some lunch, give you a break from all those case notes,” Marcus explains in mock-innocence. “But it looks like you’re already taking a little break of your own.”

You throw one of the little decorative pillows at him. “A girl can get herself off in the privacy of her own–”

“I know, I know,” Marcus interrupts, chuckling. “I just didn’t realize you were so tightly wound, sweetheart.”

“I’m not,” you protest with a petulant scowl.

Marcus raises his eyebrows. “I think you are,” he says softly, deepening his voice as he drops the bag of takeout and stalks toward the bed. You have to stifle a gulp. “You must be–ignoring that mountain of paperwork to lay in bed naked, watching dirty videos and touching yourself.”

"I–" you begin, but you trail off, not really knowing what to say. The look in Marcus's eyes is downright predatory, and it's making your pussy throb despite the recent orgasm.

“Since you’re all worked up,” Marcus continues, setting one knee down on the bed and leaning down to your level, “why don’t you do it again.”

“What?”

Marcus picks up the little bullet vibrator and places it back in your hand. “Do it again,” he repeats with a glimmer in his eye.

You meet his gaze with a coy, challenging stare as you switch the toy back on and press it to your clit again. Marcus has made you come undone in so many ways, but he’s never just watched like this as you do it yourself. You watch him watch you–lips parted, eyes burning coals and laser-focused on the sight before him.

You don’t bother teasing yourself this time, rubbing your clit in the most efficient way to get you off quickly. You make it a point to be a little louder than you typically would be by yourself, not holding back any gasps or moans, purely for the purposes of giving Marcus a show. Before too long, you’re coming again with a violent arch of your spine, oversensitive after doing it twice in quick succession. You shoot Marcus a saucy, self-satisfied look, as if to say “How was that?”

“Again,” Marcus orders quietly.

Again? You blink dumbly at your husband, but his expectant expression doesn’t change. You swallow thickly and press the little vibrator against yourself again with a hiss of oversensitivity. You’re still throbbing from the last one, and it’s hard to keep going. You give Marcus a little whine of frustration.

“Keep going,” Marcus murmurs. “I want to see it again. I want to see that pretty pussy shake.” His fingers swipe through the mess that’s starting to drip down your folds, threatening to stain the sheets.

You gasp at the soft touch; you’ve come twice, and this is the first time Marcus has even touched you. His hand stays there, index finger gently sliding up and down your folds in a barely-there caress. It shouldn’t be nearly enough, but against all odds, your hips start to lock into place as your third end approaches.

“I told you you were all worked up,” Marcus teases. “I’ve barely touched you, and look at yourself.” He brushes the hair back from your forehead and lets his fingers linger there, too–caressing your face lovingly as your chest heaves with exertion.

As Marcus’s thumb still strokes your cheekbone, he quietly orders, “Again.”

You immediately start shaking your head. “I can’t, I–” you sputter. “There’s no way.”

“Yes, you can,” Marcus counters.

Your head thunks back against the headboard. “Tired,” you whine. “It’s too much.”

Marcus gently takes the vibrator from your hand. “If you’re tired,” he begins darkly, “then I’ll do it for you.”

You inhale sharply, looking up at your husband with your heart pounding in your throat. Yes, you secretly think to yourself. Yes, make me do it.

“Color?” Marcus asks, and suddenly you know how this is going to go. That’s what he asks you when he doesn’t plan on stopping. You can say anything–you can beg, plead, scream for him to stop, but he won’t. Not until the word red falls from your lips.

“Green,” you whisper breathlessly. “Oh, my God, green.”

“Good,” Marcus responds, matching your volume. “Now,” he smirks, “I believe I told you to come again.”

Marcus kneels in front of you and switches the vibrator back on. He teases you at first, barely allowing it to touch your puffy, abused clit until you're squirming underneath him.

"Greedy little thing," Marcus remarks with a playful smile. “I thought you said you were tired.”

You let out a choked laugh as he increases the pressure, circling around your little bud the way he knows you like. He builds you back up with just the vibrator, and you start to whine softly–you want his fingers inside you, want him to fill you up while he does this to you.

You cant your hips up, trying to give Marcus the hint. If he understands, he’s choosing to ignore your silent plea. You do it again, lifting up, seeking his hands, but instead of filling you with his thick fingers, his hand lands on your abdomen and pushes you back down on the bed.

“Marcus, please,” you whine. “Your fingers.”

“Not this time,” Marcus admonishes. “If you’re good and come for me like this, I’ll give you my fingers for the next one.”

The next one. Fuck, how many is he going to make you have? The prospect of Marcus fucking you with anything makes you spiral higher until the coil snaps and you clench around nothing for the fourth time.

Marcus’s tongue instinctively darts out to wet his lower lip as he watches your pussy throb. His eyes are intense and focused, loving the sight of you falling apart for him. Because of him. He switches off the toy and your eyes widen in surprise. Surely he’s not stopping already? But all Marcus does is shrug off his suit coat and loosen his tie. You watch–with the same amount of intensity that he just had while staring at your pussy–as he rolls up his shirtsleeves, exposing his thick forearms.

“Saucy,” you tease. “That’s like, literal porn, what you’re doing right now.”

Marcus laughs as he finishes his task. “They were going to get in the way of what I’m about to do,” he says with a wry grin. He sits back against the headboard with his legs splayed and pulls you into the space between them until you’re resting back on his chest.

“What are you going to do?” you ask in mock-innocence.

“I promised you my fingers,” Marcus answers. “And you, sweetheart, are going to take everything I give you.”

You nod rapidly in agreement.

And he begins.

Marcus’s fingers are long and thick inside you as he swirls the little vibrator around your clit again. His breath is hot in your ear, his voice gravelly and deep as he talks you through it, egging you on. When you fall apart again, he growls softly at the feel of your cunt pulsing around him. He doesn’t let up with the toy, keeping it against your clit until you’re bucking against him, trying to squirm away from the feeling of too much. It only causes Marcus’s arm to band more tightly around you, holding you firmly against him, giving you no escape.

The constant buzz of the vibrator sends you into another orgasm, right after the last, and you sob pitifully as your arousal splashes out around Marcus’s fingers.

“Fuck, that’s perfect,” Marcus groans. “Do that again.”

“C-Can’t–” you whimper. “It’s–it’s too much, Marcus, I–” you try to close your legs, giving yourself some relief, but Marcus hooks one leg over yours and pulls you apart.

“I don’t think so,” he tuts. “You were being so good for me, don’t start misbehaving now.”

You gasp at the new position, with your legs spread even wider for him. Your head drops back on his shoulder as you buck uselessly against him again.

“Color?” Marcus asks softly in your ear.

Your response is automatic. “Green,” you say. “Green, I just–oh my God, Marcus.”

"Then be good for me," Marcus says, a smile coloring his words. He might be literally holding you down, but his voice is soft and gentle and full of affection for you. You know he only does this because he wants you to feel as good as possible. This was your idea, after all. One night, years ago, you had asked him if he would ever keep going even after you begged him to stop.

"Is that what you want?" Marcus had asked, all wide eyes and earnestness. "You want me to keep going no matter what? No matter how many times you tell me it's too much?"

You had agreed readily, with enthusiasm. Yes. Destroy me until there's nothing left. You always did want to be consumed by him.

And Marcus, in turn, was all too eager to consume. Once you had given him permission to take whatever he wanted, he didn't hold back. Had anyone ever told him he could have everything, before? Had anyone ever trusted him enough, wanted him enough, craved his touch so much that they wanted it even when it verged on the edge of what they could handle?

You lose track of time as you're set adrift in Marcus's arms. You lose track of how many times you fall apart for him. As insatiable as you are for Marcus, he never seems to tire of bringing you pleasure. You tremble and shake for him until your clit is puffy and sore and the bed is a mess, but the word red never comes close to falling from your lips.

Oh, you plead for him; whether it’s to stop or to keep going, you don’t know. It doesn’t make much of a difference, either way–it’s always met with soft, gentle encouragement in your ear, so at odds with the way Marcus has your legs trapped in a splayed position, forcing them open to make room for his fingers, which are reaching something so deep inside you that you think you might break apart. All too soon, you do. You break for him like the waves break against the rocks. You crash against him, all your molecules threatening to disperse but oh, Marcus is as strong and immovable as a cliff.

The little vibrator doesn’t move, even when your hand comes to uselessly try and bat it away. Marcus’s other hand halts your protest with fingers dripping in your arousal.

“C’mon, you can take it,” he insists. “Take it all for me.”

“No–” you whimper pitifully. “Nonononono–”

“That’s not going to work,” Marcus reminds you. “You know what to say.”

You whimper again and nod your understanding.

You still don’t say it.

“One more for me,” Marcus promises. “One more. Fuck, you’ve been so good for me, haven’t you? Do you know how many times you’ve come already?”

You give him a small shake of your head, and Marcus chuckles.

“Me neither,” he confesses softly into your skin. “Lost count around eight. But you’re gonna give me one more, aren’t you?”

Marcus presses the vibrator against you harder for emphasis, and you sob as you arch your back against him. “I can’t–”

“Yes you can,” Marcus interrupts. He plunges his fingers back inside you and you yelp, squirming in his lap, not sure if you want to get away from them or push them deeper inside you. His legs yank you wider in retaliation and his fingers press up against something devastating, fucking up into you with a ferocity you never would have guessed he would be capable of before you had gotten together.

When the dam finally breaks, each tired throb of your pussy is nearly intolerable, each clench aching, your entire body spent. Marcus works you through it with murmurs of yes, yes, that’s it, so fucking perfect until the vibrator turns off and you finally slump boneless against him.

Marcus arms encircle you and his lips press against any bit of skin he can reach, over and over, as he whispers to you.

“Shh, I know. I know, sweetheart. Fuck, I love you. You’re everything, you know that?” Marcus asks, his voice suddenly full of emotion. “I just want to give you everything. I want you to feel good, I–”

“You do,” you sigh tiredly in his ear. “Holy shit, you really do, Marcus.”

“Fuck, I’m aching,” Marcus groans. “Please, I need–”

“Show me,” you murmur. “Take what you need, I wanna see it–”

You find yourself being gently deposited on the pillows as Marcus hastily shucks his suit pants down and fists his own cock as he leans over you. Just as he’d said, it’s nearly purple and fucking dripping with precum, and he jerks himself furiously as you watch with wide eyes.

“Look what you… fucking… do to me,” Marcus pants, and in no time at all, he’s spilling hot ropes of come on your belly and tits with a broken groan.

Marcus’s eyes soften as he comes down, raking over your spent form with a familiar fondness that only comes from years of knowing someone so intimately. You give him a soft, satisfied smile, reaching up with a still-trembling hand to palm his cheek, and he grins boyishly, showing his teeth.

“What time is it?” you ask suddenly, realizing that the daylight outside your bedroom window has turned golden and the shadows have lengthened.

Marcus checks his phone and presses his lips together in a guilty sort of amusement. “It’s after five,” he announces, and you laugh.

“So much for our lunch break,” you remark. “It looks like we’re having it for dinner, instead.”

“So much for all that paperwork,” Marcus says, raising his eyebrows playfully.

“Fuck the paperwork,” you laugh.

“It’s important,” Marcus says with a mischievous glint in his eye. “Maybe you should stay home tomorrow, too.”

#marcus pike #marcus pike x you #marcus pike x reader #marcus pike x f!reader #marcus pike fanfiction #the mentalist #the mentalist fanfiction #pedro pascal

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