#LIKE DID HE GET IN TOO DEEP WAS THIS A SECURITY THING HOW LONG HAS THIS BEEN HAPPENING WHERE THE PROWLER DOESNT BLINK AT BEING ASKED TO KILL

[fellhellion]

I’m sorry I have to speak my truth lmao it’s a little bit hilarious that kingpin is stylistically offered such flourish and creativity, when writing wise he’s so fucking generic.

[mostly-imagines]

Guard Dog vol. II

jason todd x fem!reader

aka don’t fuck with jason’s gf pt. II

3 in 1 blurbs

warnings: mild standard gotham violence, in the 3rd section: attempted sexual assault and panicky thoughts afterwards from reader

“Sweetheart, this is…not good.”

You turn your head over to him, where he’s frowning, hands on his hips as he inspects your bedroom window.

You tilt your head, looking it over from your place on the couch. “What’s wrong with it?”

He sighs, “Well for one, the lock is broken. But even if it weren’t, this thing would be so easy to break.”

“It’s the lock the place came with.” You shrug. At least it has a lock. In Gotham that’s kind of asking a lot.

“Yeah, I can tell.” He frowns at the window once again, moving over to stand behind the couch. “I’m getting you better locks.” He looks to you, “I can install them tomorrow?”

You tilt your head up to look at him, “You don’t need to get me new locks, Jay…”

“Okay.” He kisses your head, “I’m getting them.”

You sigh in defeat, though your smile makes it lose its credibility. “Tomorrow’s fine. I assume you’re staying the night, then?”

He makes his way to the kitchen as he says, “Well, I’m not leaving you alone here with this piece of shit the only thing between you and Gotham.”

“I’ve lived here for two years.” You say flatly.

“Don’t remind me.” He mumbles as he moves behind the counter. “Actually, your door chain’s broken too, isn’t it?” It is, but that’s his own fault.

You had a long day a couple weeks ago and had a very long, very hot shower the second you got home. Unfortunately, it had slipped your mind to text him that you were home safe and he’d broken through the chain in one try to make sure you were okay.

You hum, “It wasn’t doing much anyways.” Clearly.

He grimaces as he heats up the stove for dinner.

You laugh lightly, “What?”

He looks back at you with a frankly adorable frown, “I don’t like that.”

You’d never thought much of it. You hadn’t had any—well, many—problems living here before, and you still had your deadbolt and handle lock.

“It’s okay. I’m safe here.”

He looks like he strongly disagrees. He comes back over, sitting next to you, taking your face in his hands. “Will you please let me set up some security measures around here?”

“Did Jason Todd just say please?” You say in faux-shock.

He rolls his eyes at you, “I’m serious.”

You sigh, contemplatively. “I don’t want my apartment looking like the Home Alone set.”

He laughs at that, “It’s not going to. You won’t even notice most of them. Just do it for me, please?”

“I’ll agree, but only because I know you’re going to do it anyways and I’d like to pretend I have control over this.” That’s not true, you’d agree to literally anything if he said please that sweetly again, but that’s your business.

“Fair enough.” He smiles, kissing your cheek.

No, it’s not fair at all.

It’s late. You’re not even sure how late but the city has calmed from its usual noises, indicating that your boyfriend will be home soon.

You’re coming up heavy on cramps tonight and according to the mockingly empty spot in your medicine cabinet, you’re out of ibuprofen. Yeah, it’s late, but the store on the corner is a three minute walk and fuck your stomach hurts. Jason wouldn’t like it if you went out without telling him though, so maybe you should wait until—

The sound of the living room window sliding open breaks you away from your thoughts, followed by a clatter of something hitting the ground.

You walk back into the dimly lit room, finding your boyfriend sliding the window shut again, holsters abandoned on the ground. He turns and collapses onto the couch face first, body immediately gone limp.

“Hey, baby.” You bite back a laugh, coming over to rub his muscled back from behind the couch. He groans into the cushion in response. “Why don’t you go get in bed?”

He hums almost imperceptibly, sitting up and rubbing his eyes roughly with his palms.

He stands and takes your hand in his as he passes by, tugging you towards the bedroom. The deep ache in your abdomen reminds you of your earlier train of thought. You pull your hand back, stopping in your tracks.

He turns back to you with a frown, wanting to know what could possibly be getting in his way of falling asleep, holding you close.

“I gotta go pick up some ibuprofen. I’ll be right back.” You say quietly, not wanting to disturb the quietness of the night for him. His frown deepens as you head towards the door, watching you.

You’ve got your purse in hand and are reaching for the handle when you hear his footsteps following in suit. “Hey, it’s okay. Stay here, I’m just going to the 24 hour store on the corner.”

He shakes his head, “You’re not going out in Gotham alone at two in the morning. Put your coat on, it’s cold.”

You do as you’re told, shrugging the coat on as you glance over at him. “Jason, it’s okay. You’re exhausted, go to sleep.”

He ignores you, throwing a sweatshirt on to cover up his armor, and follows you out the door; albeit far more sluggish than usual.

He was right though, the night air is bitter and slaps your face with every step forward you take. He lingers a few steps behind you, honest to god almost falling asleep mid step a couple times.

Frankly, you’re not even sure what kind of fight he’d be able to put up in this state. Though, he’s surprised you plenty of times before. In any case, his head snaps up every time there’s any sign of movement around, instantly on alert.

He trails behind you as you browse through the narrow aisles, hands stuffed in his sweatshirt.

As you’re standing at the store counter paying, his neck is craned forward, resting on your shoulder. You rub soothing circles into his hand with your thumb, though you’re sure it’s not doing anything to help his exhaustion.

You’re walking back home, the bite of the air a bit more forgiving in this direction. There’s another man walking down the sidewalk approaching, hands in pocket.

Jason’s too tired to bother with subtlety, glaring directly at the passerby before he could even think of trying anything. And it works, because the guy averts his gaze real quick and speeds up past you.

He continues working at his post from just behind you all the way until you’re back inside your apartment.

He takes the medicine container out of his pocket and cracks it open for you, wordlessly filling up a glass of water after. You gulp down a couple of the pills, and he takes the glass and bottle out of your hand the second you’re done, setting them on the counter.

He turns to you, eyes barely open, mumbling, “Can we sleep now?”

You smile at his fatigued state and take his hand, leading him to the bedroom.

Your neighbor likes you. You know it, Jason knows it.

The worst he’d done was flirt with you, badly, and shut his mouth real quick whenever your boyfriend emerged from your apartment.

And Jason let that go; he knows better than anybody that you’re heavenly and sweet and clever, of course this fucking guy likes you. Jason set an unspoken rule with himself, that he won’t get violent with any guys unless they put their hands on you. Something he knows for absolute fact your neighbor has not done.

At least he hadn’t until a couple of hours ago. You’d been in the hallway at the mailslots, your boyfriend nowhere in sight, when he decided it was the perfect time to make a move. Make several moves, actually.

You’re sitting on the couch, knees to chest, still trying to wrap your mind wround what had happened when Jason sees you. You stopped crying a while ago and you’ve entered the phase of…well. That happened.

Your hear keys jingling outside the door, followed by your boyfriend's entrance. He’s carrying some grocery bags and has a book tucked under his chin.

He lets the bags slide off his arms, and sets the book on the counter with them, beaming, “You’re never gonna guess what b—“ His smile drops when he sees you. “What’s wrong?”

You shake your head, “Nothing.” But your blinking feels off all of a sudden, and you can’t remember what you usually do with your face when you’re not lying. It doesn’t matter though, you could be an academy award winning actress and you’re still sure Jason would be able to see right through you with a single glance.

He frowns, “Don’t lie to me.” He moves towards you, kneeling down in front of you. “Please. What’s wrong?” His eyes are pleading now, already worried.

You don’t want him to worry about this. He already worries about you too much and he’s got all his vigilante stuff and…you just want to believe that this is a manageable situation and not a problem. Not something that affected you.

“It’s just…it’s not a big deal, okay? I can handle it—”

His posture stiffens and his voice suddenly goes low and serious, “What happened?”

You know where this is going. “Jason. Promise me you won’t do anything.”

His brow furrows, and his frown turns to something closer to anger. “Did someone put their hands on you? Who?”

“Jason—”

“Who did it?”

“The neighbor, b—” he immediately snaps to a stand and starts towards the door. You hurry to grab onto his hand before he can escape your proximity, “Jason. Please don’t.”

The break in your voice is enough to make his rage falter and turn back around to face you.

“Baby, if he touched you—” His eyes are pleading, begging you to let him go take care of this. If not for you, then for him.

“It wasn’t—he didn’t do anything. He didn’t get to. I hit him and he backed off.” Which is…sort of true.

He stares at you. “In the hallway?”

You blink. “…Yeah?”

He takes off towards the bedroom wordlessly. You follow quickly on his tail, watching him sit on the edge of your bed, opening his computer and clicking through it quickly.

You slide over next to him, and see that he's pulling up a file under the name of your building and today’s date. It takes you two seconds too long to realize what he’s doing, the thought only sinking in right as you see the hallway security camera footage on the screen.

“Jason—” you try to close the computer but he bats your hand away.

He forwards through the footage, as you scramble trying and failing to reach past him, various building occupants coming in and out of frame rapidly.

“—please just listen to me.” But he did listen to you, and he heard that someone tried to hurt you. That was all he needed to hear.

He stops when he sees you enter the frame, watching closely. He sees you flipping through the mail. He sees your neighbor slither out of his apartment and stand far too close to you. You take a step back only to be met with two steps forward by him. He says something to you, probably asking where your boyfriend is.

The angle doesn’t show his face, but it does see yours, and you look incredibly uncomfortable. You don’t answer him, which evidently was enough of an answer in itself.

Your neighbor tries to brush some of your hair out of your face but you snap your head away, stumbling back a little. He uses your lack of balance as an “excuse” to grab onto your waist, pulling you close to him.

Your hands are out in front of you and you’re shaking your head as he pushes towards you. His lips land on your neck and you try to move backwards, but he grabs your wrists and holds you in place.

You fight against his grip, and upon realizing that your struggling doesn’t matter to him at all, you dig your nails into his wrists so hard you draw blood. He groans in pain and his grip on you loosens.

You snap your hands away and push yourself away, locking yourself in your apartment. Your neighbor lingers for a moment, shouting something at the door before trudging back into his apartment and slamming the door.

Jason snaps the laptop shut, coming to a stand once again. His fists clinch at his sides. “That was not nothing.”

No, it wasn’t. But you feel so helpless right now. You sure as hell felt it in the hallway, and it keeps lingering in you and you’re not sure why. You couldn’t do anything then, you can’t do anything now…it feels like all the bad things in the world are closing in on you and you just have to let it happen.

“I…I don’t want anyone to die because of me…” your words aren’t quite matching your thoughts, but this is the closest you can get right now.

He pulls back to look at you, brows furrowed. “It’s—it’s not because of you. It’s because of him. Baby, if I were on patrol and saw him grab some other girl like that I’d do the same thing.”

You know that. You know that. But communication seems impossible right now even though it’s the only tool you have to stop things from closing in.

“No, I know that. I know…it’s just…” Things are closing in anyways. Alright, this is happening now. Your eyes start watering and your voice trembles.

“Fuck, baby.” His hand flies to the back of your head, other arm wrapping around your middle, pulling you to him.

You feel a bit silly, crying over the potential death of someone who tried to hurt you, in front of the Red Hood of all people.

“I’m sorry, I—I don’t know. It’s—it’s too many bad things. I can’t…”

“Okay. Okay. It’s okay. I’ll stay here. I’m staying here with you, okay?” You nod into his chest, tears dampening his shirt.

This is a temporary solution, you know that even now. But you think once it expires, it might be easier to accept whatever Jason’s going to do later.

He’s quiet for a few minutes, holding you in his arms as you sway back and forth lightly.

“Will you forgive me if I kill him?” He whispers into your hair.

You roll your eyes but smile nonetheless. “Don’t.”

“Is that a yes?”

You pull back to look him in the eyes, face setting. “I’m getting the feeling you’re going to do something regardless of how this conversation ends.” He says nothing. “Just, please, don’t kill him.”

He holds you tighter and you do the same, laying your head against his chest again. You feel him press a kiss to your head as he takes a deep breath.

You think on it for a moment, figuring it needs saying, “And don’t get in trouble.”

Your neighbor comes home late that night, trudging through the front door with a perpetual frown. He opens the door to his notably unlocked apartment. He drops his bag on the ground with a thump and flicks on the lamp next to the door. He shuts the door and turns the lock when the red elephant in the room pipes up.

“Hey, bud.”

He jumps, spinning around, “Who the fuck—oh, shit.” He freezes the second he sees him, sitting in the armchair across the room. The Red Hood nods, loading the gun in his hand.

Your neighbor stutters, “What—what are you doing here?”

He looks up at him, cocking the gun. “You put your hands on your neighbor, yeah?”

He looks fake-shocked at the accusation. “What? No, I would ne—which neighbor?”

He can’t see it, but Hood’s face drops into a deadpan. “That is really not helping your case.”

Your neighbor eyes the gun nervously.

Hood sighs, “I’m not going to kill you. I’ve been told it’s bad manners to execute someone the first time you meet.” He glances down the nail marks on his arm and steals his jaw. “No. What’s going to happen is you’re going to break your lease and move out. Within the next week.”

The neighbors eyes widen, “A week? Are you insane?”

Hood tilts his head a bit before shaking it, “Nah, you’re right. By tomorrow night.”

“This is my apartment. I live here, I’m not going anywhere. And unless you’re secretly Saul the landlord under there, you can’t do anything about it.” He crosses his arms, clearly feeling very proud of himself. Well, killing him isn’t the only option, is it?

“Yeah, I thought you’d say that.” Hood clocks him hard on the head with the frame of his gun. He goes down quickly and loudly, clutching his head, groaning. “The alternative is getting beaten half to death and hoping whatever hospital you end up at knows what they’re doing.”

Honestly, neighbor boy is pressing his luck as is. Maybe it was a bad idea for Jason to bring the gun.

“Fuck! Fine! I’ll go!” He wails.

Hood kicks his abdomen with the side of his boot, though not nearly as hard as he wanted to. “Shut up. You’ll disturb the neighbors.”

The neighbor groans again, quieter. He mumbles something about Hood being crazy but it gets lost under the grunts of pain.

Hood crouches down next to him, patting him on the head with the barrel of his gun. “Don’t worry, bud. I’ll check up on you. And if I ever see you so much as look in the general direction of another girl I’ll put a bullet in your head. Sound good?”

Your former neighbor drops his head to the ground, hand still clutching the growing swell on his forehead.

[coco-loco-nut]

Hii!

Can I please ask for an angsty fic with Max, where the reader defends him from Jos after not finishing his race in Melbourne...idk if you remember when Max kept his helmet for four hours after a race because he was afraid of what Jos would have done to him after not winning...and the reader basically tells Jos to get lost even if she's like 5'4 and definitely not as intimidating as them both lol.

And then maybe after the win in Suzuka, they "reconcile" but she still reminds him to act right around her boyfriend, who's now a man and not a little boy he could pressure like he once did.

Sorry if it's too long!! Thanks for taking your time and reading my request!

Guard Dog

Pairing: Max x Reader

Summary: You are sick and tired of watching Max take Jos' shit

TW: verbal abuse

A/n: thank you soooo much for the rec, I love writing these out so much <3

requests open masterlist

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"Maxie... are you okay?" you wait patiently by the door to his driver's room, careful not to barge in like Jos would, as you have for the past year since you first witnessed Jos' beratement of his son. He is sitting on the couch with his helmet between his hands. The fire causing an unpleasant start to the race, and you are just glad you got here first.

"I'm okay," his voice cracks and you step into the room, closing the door behind you. "I know it wasn't my fault, but I can't help but feel like it was my fault," Max looks in your eyes, the fire brewing behind them. You were genuinely the sweetest girl he's ever met, and to get you mad took a lot. God help you if Jos shows up, you are tired of Max feeling bad even when he podiums.

"You're right, you didn't do anything wrong, the car failed you today," you stay calm, sitting beside him and cuddling into him. Max stays quiet, enjoying your warmth, and decompressing from the start. He can understand why the fans were so happy to see him lose, in fact, if he wasn't himself, he would join them. No, the fear of his father is what has him on edge. Rightfully so, because a few seconds later the door is slammed open again.

"Max, what the hell did you-" Jos starts and you launch yourself off the couch. Jos and Max were big guys, and you were average height for a woman, 5'6 or so, but you didn't seem like it in that moment.

"Shut the hell up and leave. You have nothing useful to say and you are going to shift blame to Max who had NO fault in the DNF," you snarl, setting yourself up as a barrier between the two, Jos still in the doorway and Max on the couch.

"Girl, I don't know who you think you are, but I am Max's father, and I can-," You cut Jos off before he can continue.

"No, you aren't his father. A father doesn't talk to his son like that, you are simply a man who shares the same last name as Max. A father is someone like Carlos Sainz Sr or Lawrence Stroll. No, you are a man- sorry a boy in a man's body- who can't cope with the fact that he doesn't race anymore and wants the man who shares the same last name with him to be impossibly perfect and win every single race, even when the car breaks down." You sneer at the man. "You need to leave, before I call security and make them remove you," you don't back down, instead you step closer. Max watches in both awe and fear.

"I-"

"Leave, Jos, now. Don't make me repeat myself," you say, practically slamming the door behind him. You turn around and look at Max, seemingly calm and normal. He looks at you bewildered.

"That was the sexiest thing ever. Thank you, Schatje, you didn't have to do that," Max hugs you, a large weight off of his shoulders.

"Of course I did, who else will be your guard dog?" You smile at him, squeezing him tighter. "Now, get changed and get back to the garage," you tell Max, stepping out to the room. You let out a deep breath, surprised with how you treated Jos and stood up for Max. A couple minutes later, Max rejoins you, quickly stopping inside hospitality for a snack.

The two of you avoid Jos, going extremely low contact, not that he was trying to. Jos would never admit it, but he was embarrassed at how you spoke to him, and his retreat allowed him to ignore it. Instead, you and Max enjoyed your time together in Japan. The both of you were aware Jos was there, but chose to ignore it. After Max won, Jos warily approached the two of you.

"I wanted to congratulate you on winning. You drove well," Jos says stiffly, silently calling for a truce. You let Max take the lead on the conversation.

"Thank you," he says, feeling like a little boy again, but accepting the temporary truce.

"It was good seeing you Jos, but we need to go," you interject, sensing the still tense atmosphere. The older man, still a little scared of you despite your sweet demeanor, lets you go, not quite willing to cross you again.

"Love you, Maxie"

"Love you too, Schatje,"

[ikigaisvt]

quiet love

in which your boyfriend vernon likes showing his love for you in a quiet way.

pairing: vernon x f!reader words count: 2k content: childhood bestfriends to lovers, fluff, domestic warnings: so soft but very corny, contains pretty common prompts imo, vernon's love language is not words of affirmation lol, implied that kids are mean to vernon, mention of driving, drinking, loss and exes, reader is sick at one point (the flu), a lot of food/eating talk, they are so healthy youre gonna throw up, soooo much physical affection they make me SICK (holding hands, kissing, playing with each other's hairs, hugging etc), babe/baby petnames note: omg im alive?!?!? hiii!! it's been so long since i posted a fic! this one is a birthday gift for the loml @vcrnons <3 happy birthday, u know it all already but don't forget i love u sm!!! i hope you enjoy this childhoodbff!vernon (it's ur thing) who's very very in love but very very shy to say it. hope anyone else who sees this fic enjoy too! don't forget to interact with this if u liked it, rbs are very very very appreciated! thank u<3 (also this was proofread by tired me so if there is any mistakes, ignore it pls thanks <3)

Vernon has always been a man of a few words; when you first met him in elementary school, he was the quiet boy and nothing could get him to speak apart from spinning tops and his favorite cartoons. Still, you decided to befriend that calm boy – at the time, people used to think you were only being nice but deep down you knew: you were making a friend for life.

Going through all of the different steps of childhood and teenage hood with Vernon by your side was an experience – you raised hell together, driving your parents crazy. But it was also having a best friend to experience each other’s every first times: first partners, first time driving, first time getting drunk but also first breakup, first bad haircut and first loss. You have seen each other through everything. No, you have watched over each other through everything; wherever you were, Vernon was standing two steps back, making sure you were always safe. And wherever he was, you were always standing two steps back, making sure he was always loved.

And that’s how you both fell in love. It was slow and secure; falling in love with Vernon was never complicated or painful. It was how things dropped into place and none of you ever denied it; at the time you knew you were meant to be – maybe you always did. And so, you let yourself fall into each other’s arms, a safe place, full of quiet love.

You were 24 years old when Vernon first wanted to tell you he loved you; yet, he didn’t have the courage to fess up. Having spent his whole life showing his love through actions, he had a hard time saying it out loud. After a nice date to the cinema and the restaurant, he drove you back home, small talk and look exchanged during the trip. As soon as he puts the car in park, he reaches out to hold your hand, his thumb drawing circles.

“Had a nice time tonight?” he asks.

“Of course I did,” you answer, a blush creeping on your cheeks, “You know I always do with you,” you add, reaching out to cup his cheek.

“You need to go, you have an early day tomorrow,” he tells you, kissing your palm.

“Yeah, I’m going,” you say as you reach down for your bag and open the door, “Let me know when you’re home, okay?”

“Of course,” he says as he holds your face between his hand, “You do the same,” he adds against your lips before kissing you softly.

“It’s literally two steps away, I’m already home,” you chuckle as you exit the car.

“Won’t leave until I get the text, babe,” he smiles as he leans over the center console to look at you.

You roll your eyes sarcastically at him but still, your lips go up into a smile as your cheeks reddens from the way he so apologetically loves and cares for you. This boy would do anything to make sure you see how much he adores you. So, you wave him goodbye and it’s only when you close your front door and his phone buzzes with an i’m home :) drive safe, text me xx that you hear him drive off.

The second time he almost confessed to loving you was when you were 25. You had just gotten over an awful flu that got you bed ridden for days, unable to go on with your schedule as you normally would. You were sleeping the sickness off for hours on end, only waking up when Vernon knocked on your door to check up on you. Honestly, he knew it was only the flu, but he was so scared for you; in his eyes, you always appeared as the strongest women on earth so seeing you so weak and tired pulled at his heartstrings. He thought about confessing his undying love as you were blowing your nose – maybe it will magically heal her, he thought one night. But deep down he knew you needed someone to help you out physically and so, he did. He had taken such good care of you; he kept your home clean, did the laundry and helped you out to the shower if needed. He had thought about doing the cooking but he knew his poor skills wouldn’t get you to eat at all. So, even if you couldn’t finish your plates, he had ordered your favorite meals all week, even if he didn’t really like some of those.

It's been a few days since you last had a fever, so even if you were still blowing your nose and coughing a little bit, you could still get out of bed and hang out with Vernon. You two decided to have an at-home date, ordering your favorite meals and watching the show you recently started together. Since you were less sick you could finally finish your plate and eat more than usual; even after finishing your food, your stomach was still grumbling.

“I’m still hungry,” you whisper to yourself, not thinking Vernon would hear you.

“Yeah?” he asks, still looking at the TV as he holds a spoon full of food in the air, “Want a bite?” he says as he looks at you.

“Is that okay?” you ask, not wanting to take away his favorite food. Even when you were sick, you saw how Vernon only ordered your favorite foods – he deserved to have every bite of his favorite dish.

“Of course it is!” he smiles at you, extending his spoon in front of you, “You like it?” he asks, waiting for your nods of approval.

You nod enthusiastically, giving him a thumbs up with a smile, “That’s so good!” you exclaim before Vernon reaches for your plate. You look at him, wondering what he is up to before you see him fill your empty plate with more than half of his meal, “No, no, no,” you say, trying to reach for it as Vernon puts it out of reach from you.

“You need to eat, babe,” he says as he puts the dish on your lap, “Go on,” he smiles, patting your head before turning his attention back to his almost finished meal and the tv.

You smile down, cheeks red from your boyfriend’s attention. You notice how he gave you the tastier part of his dish – meat, veggies and a lot of gravy with a good amount of rice – and he kept most of the rice and only a piece of meat for himself. You start to eat happily, re-adjusting your position on the sofa to be closer to him. It might have been a year and a half since you started dating with no I love you’s said, but you know this is how he shows he loves you. And that is enough for you – it will always be.

It's now been two years since you started dating Vernon; you’re 26 years old, living with your boyfriend, your two cats and waking up every day with the love of your life next to you. Life is beautiful and you could not ask for more. To celebrate your anniversary with Vernon, you planned a trip to your hometown - only a 1 hour-drive from home – so you can have your date where you first kissed: at the cinema. If someone told Vernon he would one day ignore a movie to give his attention to a human being, he would have laughed at their face. But here he is. Countless of movies and shows watched with you right there, next to him, and yet you always steal his gaze away from the screen. You are just so beautiful, he thinks to himself. And when he sees you, laughing at a stupid joke from a character, he smiles with you. Not because the joke is funny, no, but because he cannot watch you without his heart filling up and his feelings pouring out onto his lips. He knew since he woke up that day, on your 2 years anniversary, that he would say it. It had been on the tip of his tongue since the first time he saw you in elementary school, smiling at everyone and saving bugs, but he always held it back. He thought it would be too soon, too fast, too much – but how can love ever be those things? he realized recently. He had said I love you a thousand times already through his actions, he had said he loved you out loud to his friends, his family, his cats. He thought now was the time you should hear it. So, all day, his head was in the clouds, thinking how to bring this up, how to say I’m in love with you to his soulmate. It happens when you pull him into your apartment at 1 am, your anniversary already over. You both get rid of your shoes, the tiredness of the day finally falling on your shoulders, before you pull him into you for a hug. Your arms stay at his waist, his heart going thump, thump, thump against yours as his cheek rest on the crown of your head.

“Gonna let you go to sleep,” you mumble against his shirt before letting him go, “I’m gonna shower.”

“Hey- babe,” he says softly to get your attention, his hand wrapping around your wrist, “need to tell you something,” he tells you as you’re pulled back against his chest, hands on his front as one of his rest on your waist, the other one covering your cheek.

“Everything’s okay?” you ask, rubbing circle on the fabric of his shirt.

“Yeah, everything’s good,” he whispers, his eyes going down to look at your lips and up again, “You’re pretty,” he speaks under his breath, a blush making its way on your cheeks – and his.

“Thank you,” you smile as you reach for his neck, pulling him down for a kiss, “You’re not so bad yourself,” you whisper against his lips.

He holds onto your cheeks, your foreheads resting against each other, “I love you,” he murmurs so low you think you made it up but as you open your eyes and see tears in his own, you know this is nothing but real life.

“Oh,” you gasp softly, taken aback, “I love you too,” you say, smiling up at the love of your life.

“I know this was long overdue and I’m sorry it took me so long-“ he starts to babble, uneasiness bubbling in his chest before you cut him off with a kiss.

“It’s okay,” you whisper, playing with the hair at his nape, “To me, you’ve said it a thousand times,” you reassure him as he blushes, chuckling softly at how you always find the right words for him, “But a thousand more wouldn’t hurt,” you tease slightly, making him snort.

“I love you,” he repeats, his arms wrapping around your shoulders as yours find a resting place at his waist, rubbing his back over his shirt.

“Again,” you say with a smile in your voice before kissing his chest in an I love you too.

“I love you,” he says against your hair, his hands making its way under the straps of your dress.

“Again,” you ask him, never getting enough of these words flowing out of his lips.

“I love you,” he whispers against the shell of your ear, leaving a kiss behind, “so much.”

“I’ll never get tired of hearing this,” you whisper, your hands meeting the end of his shirt, “I love you,” you say as you touch his bare back.

“I love you, I love you, I love you,” he says like a mantra, “I’d unlearn any other words so all you could hear is my love for you,” he whispers, his eyes meeting yours, before your lips collide – just like your worlds did so many years ago.

You’ve always found reassurance in this quiet love you and Vernon were giving each other – but maybe you liked your love being a little louder sometimes.

thank u for reading! hope you enjoyed hehe <3

[starlight-library]

IOU | OP81

pairing: ghostface!oscar x ghostface!reader

summary: reader & oscar are best friends but reader would love to get a shot with ghostface. what they don’t know is that their chances are closer than they think…

warnings: [DARK THEMES USED & SMUT] slightly descriptive murder, mention of stalking stalking, mention of blood, breath play, public sex, oral sex (m receiving), dry humping, dom!oscar, sub!reader, degradation, hair pulling (if you squint??), face fucking, deep throating

a/n: once again, dark themes used! please read the warnings above!!! i answered a asked on my main here and decided to make a oneshot of it (yes i quote J's ask cause it was too good). tbh didn't even plan for a plot but here we are! I know my answer and this are vastly different...i don't wanna talk about it. also ghostface!oscar series belongs to @piastrification so homie this one is for YOU!! Also happy belated Valentines day omg. Hope you enjoy 🫶🏽

word count: 4.5K

This week has started out to be one of the worst weeks you’ve had in a very long time. Monday started off with your car breaking down on the way to campus and you completely missed your first class. When you got to campus an irritated Oscar was waiting asking why the hell you didn’t call him. “Even though I was in class, I would’ve left and gotten you,” he told you. You weren’t in the mood to argue so you just apologized and told him you’d call him next time which seemed to ease his irritation slightly. Seemed he also had a pretty shitty Monday.

Tuesday brought your shitty manager everyone hates at your job to end a relatively quiet day. It was the typical bullshit but still didn’t mean you had to enjoy it. You spent the whole drive home on the phone with Oscar screaming your head off about all the things your manager had done. The micro-managing of your work, the snarky remarks, the extra work so he can just fuck off in the back, god you could not stand this manager at all. Oscar listened like he always did. “You don’t deserve that,” you could hear the frown in his voice, “honestly he shouldn’t even be a manager. I could take care of him for you.” You laughed. You thanked Oscar for the offer but you had already decided that your manager would be your next victim. It would be tricky considering everyone in the store knew how much you two despised each other but it would get done.

You ended up with a stomach bug on Wednesday. You woke up around four in the morning with a jump and just made it to the bathroom before you got sick. You stayed in there for a good hour before there was nothing left in your system and you dragged yourself back to bed. You somehow coherently managed to message your professors you’d be missing class due to illness and texted Oscar that you’d be out sick today before promptly falling asleep. You woke to a knock on your front door and dragged yourself out of bed. You made a face seeing Oscar standing outside with a bag. “What are you doing?” You ask.

“Taking care of you. Can I come in?”

“What if you catch it? What about classes?”

You watch Oscar simply pull a KN95 mask out of his pocket. You narrowed your eyes as he slipped it on. You didn’t need to see his face to see the cheeky smile he was giving. His eyes twinkled slightly with humor as he gently turned you around and guided you back inside your place as he listed the things he brought over and how he can afford missing one day to make sure you eat and rest, a habit you tend to struggle with. He really was a good best friend.

Thursday is really when you hit your limit. Arriving on campus you and Oscar head to class though neither of you really paid attention. You two spent most of the time texting each other even though you guys were sitting right next to each other. When class ended the two of you headed to the closest campus cafeteria before parting ways. You got on the line to grab the food while Oscar secured you two seats since it was roughly lunch time and everyone would be out and about.

Carrying the two to-go containers after paying you make your way to the back left corner. It’s usually where you and Oscar sat and enjoyed just people watching and gossiping about other students but you slowed your walking. Oscar was looking up at someone. Fucking Brittany. One of the sororities girls. Sorority president actually. Brittany was in a nice blouse, a skirt, some fucking heeled boots. Her blonde hair was thrown up into a messy bun and she was leaning forward slightly while smiling wide at Oscar.

Jealousy hit you like a truck. You grip the to-go containers tighter while standing frozen in your spot watching them. You wanted to march over and tell her to fuck off. Grab your stupid bun and slam her head into the table until she’s bleeding out. Or maybe take the plastic forks that rested on top of the to-go containers and gauge her eyes out for having the audacity to even look at Oscar. Alas, you refrained from it all. Instead you just tilted your chin up and made your way over with a tight smile. “I’m back!” You announce to Oscar. The both turn to face you and Oscar visibly relaxes slightly but Brittany is giving you a once over clearly unimpressed. You turn and blink, feigning surprise. “Oh! Brittany. Hi,” you keep your tone light and friendly, “what brings you here?”

“Oh, I was just talking to Oscar,” Brittany smiles, “we’re partners for our history project.” You could give two shits less what it was as you spy Brittany’s hand moving to Oscar’s upper arm and resting there with ease. Something so subtle but could come off as flirty and you wanted to cut her hand off. How dare she think she can touch Oscar like that? “…and wanted to see if he wanted to come to the frat party Saturday night,” she concludes.

“Oh, isn’t that sweet of you. Can he bring a plus one?” You ask putting the containers down, sliding one over to Oscar.

“If he wants…” Brittany glances at Oscar with a smile then back at you, “but we need to know to make sure they’re on the list. Even then…it depends on the mood if everyone gets in.”

“Then it seems kinda stupid for a list, don’t you think so?” Oscar asks finally. Brittany laughs. It wasn’t even that funny. You realize now that she’s flirting with Oscar. Well. This just won’t do. Not like you care anyway. Oscar is your best friend. Sure you love him but it’s platonic -or so you tell yourself- so it shouldn’t bother you but it does. It does bother you because Brittany was the queen heartbreaker. She used guys until she got bored. Until they got attached and couldn’t offer anything else after giving her everything. You were not about to have Oscar be a pawn in her fucking game. You had missed the remark Brittany gave as you sat down, your heart pounding in your ears.

“…let me know!” Brittany calls out as she’s already walking away.

“Ugh. As if,” Oscar murmurs and turns his attention to you. “Hey,” he starts softly. Bring your gaze to him and you blink, “you okay?”

“Yeah,” you manage a smile, “I’m fine. Did you see the shoes she was wearing?” You ask to divert the subject as now you might have something fun to do this weekend.

* * *

Personally, you never understood the hype of sororities and managed to curb every single one who tried to recruit you. It was just a bunch of girls with money and tried to make it sound like it wasn’t a cult but it most certainly was if you got in. Moving into the house, what they expected you to wear, how to act in public, who can and cannot date, for fuck sakes they monitored your social media post and if they didn’t approve of something you posted they would either make you take it down or probably kick you out. You much preferred your freedom over dealing with that bullshit.

Luck had shined down on you when you heard some of the girls mention Brittany couldn’t go to the bar tonight because she was under the weather and just ‘had to get better for tomorrow in case her special guest came’. It was a miracle that you didn’t march over here and slaughter Brittany right then and there but you bide your time. You had to be careful.

Now, slipping the mask on, you give it a five minutes after everyone else leaves before slipping through the back door. Standing quietly, you listen to the water running and slowly making your way through the house. Climbing the stairs you follow the noise until you’re outside the bathroom. You hear Brittany singing and you silently open the door. Steam hits your face and it takes everything not to cough from the sudden heat. Stepping in you watch Brittany’s silhouette run her fingers through her hair. Gripping the hilt of your knife, you inch forward. When Brittany turns you stab the knife through the shower curtain and straight in her heart. Twisting, you step forward until Brittany is pinned against the wall as she weakly has a hold of your wrist trying to pull the knife out her screams being drowned out by the shower and her choking on her own blood. You pull out before stabbing again to ensure that there was no chance she would be able to survive. When her attempts falter, you pull the knife out. Cleaning the knife off, you slip out of the house the way you came smirking knowing the rest of them wouldn’t have hot water for a long time.

Carefully you pack everything into your backpack you left in the woods by the house before securely zipping it. Slinging a strap over your shoulder, you start to head back to your apartment. You emerge from the treeline right into an alleyway and into town which is bustling with college kids. Perks of living in a college town. You just turn left and make your way back to your apartment which is a bit further uptown and you notice as the people start to thin out.

You feel eyes burning into the back of your skull. Turning your head over your shoulder, you stop. At the end of the block you see a figure in all black and an identical mask standing there. Normal people would do anything but stare. Call out to the figure, turn away and walk, call the police, something except just stand there silently and face off with this killer. Copycat killer that is. You suppose you’d have fans, sick and twisted probably, but you didn’t expect you’d end up creating a copycat killer. Not that you minded, actually the gesture touched you actually. People had been too stupid to realize it was a copycat but not you.

After all, their first kill happened to be one of your best friends you recently dropped.

You can’t even remember why but you arrived to apologize and found her body on the floor, throat cut. It was a bit messy. The cut wasn’t as clean as you would’ve expected and there was blood everywhere. Even on the poor bitch’s hands. Then you realize that there’s a few stab wounds. Seemed she put up a fight before whoever did it got the kill. Then someone clears their throat and you raise your gaze.

There you saw him.

An identical ghostface mask, black long sleeve shirt, jeans, and sneakers. Personally you preferred boots but to each their own. As much as some little sane part in your head told you to stop judging this person’s choice in shoes and run, you stood there staring because god he was so *distracting*. Honestly, the tight fit long sleeve should be illegal for killers to wear. It clung to him defining each curve of his muscle and you couldn’t help but get turned on because well–they’re a well fit masked killer.

“Did you do this?”

The killer nodded. Silence fell upon the two of you before you finally asked, “why?”

“...Why?” The voice asked. A shiver ran down your spine hearing the low murmur. A voice modulator just like you. Smart and well fit? Shit, “that’s all you can ask? Why? Aren’t you supposed to be running and screaming?”

“Well I find that a bit stupid,” you retort, “you’re right here. Masked or not, you're taller. You have length compared to my short legs. I might have you in agility and you’re a bit messy with your killing. Shaky in the hands.” You tilt your head to the masked figure with a small smirk. You watch the figure tighten his grip on the hilt of the knife before he’s in front of you in about four steps. You gasp as your head is yanked back by your hair, knife against your throat.

“Are you asking to be killed right now?”

“I mean you gonna fuck me before you kill me?”

Ghostface reels their head back slightly. Stupidly, they loosen their grip from the shock. Taking your chance, you grab the first with the knife and twist it away from you. They shout out in pain as you get your hair free and release their wrist before kicking the figure harshly in the stomach. You step on the figure’s chest a bit harshly. Smirking down at him, “expect the unexpected sweetheart. But you never answered me. Why?”

You can hear something faintly. You cannot believe this guy is mumbling. Leaning down slightly, you turn your ear, “I can’t hear you,” you tease.

“I did it for you.”

Now you’re stunned. You lean back slightly, hand over your heart. You don’t dare move though. You expect it to be some sick joke but the laughter never came. You bite your bottom lip having half the mind to suck him off right then and there. You stay strong though. Instead, you move to stand over the figure and bend down and hook a finger under his mask. His hand flies to your wrist and you laugh.

“I’m not gonna take your mask off,” you explain, “Trust me. Right now I am getting extremely horny and I don’t think I can handle you being ugly under the mask. Would just completely kill the mood.” You laugh hearing the figure let out an offended noise, “but aren’t you sweet,” you tilt your finger up and the figure follows, lifting his chin, “don’t be a stranger, yeah? Now, you should get off so I can feign the heartbroken emotional ex- best friend.”

Ghostface is in front of you now. He’s got your chin between his thumb and finger staring down at you and you blink as you come out of your memory. He’s close and you can hear his soft breathing which forces your own breath to hitch. You curl and uncurl your fingers and you hear a small huff behind the mask accompanied by a smirk you assume. “My,” he murmurs softly, “what do we have here. You shouldn’t be walking alone at night like this little one. You never know what lurks in the dark.”

You take a deep breath to keep your voice even. Pressing your thighs together you try so hard to stop the heat that’s starting to spread through your body. You should not be getting this turned on but how could you not? You had a copycat killer who kept killing people that you had issues with somehow and someway. “I–” You start, biting your bottom lip trying to find the words but you’re cut off with a chuckle.

“You’re so worked up for me. I can see it in the clench of your legs, the flush on your cheeks, the way your pupils dilate and the way you bite your lip for me. You don’t even know who I am. I could be a total stranger, who followed you home one night and just never stopped, but I could also be your best friend, that you’ve known for years, who you think you know like the back of your hand. You don’t even know. But I know one thing for certain though- I’m sure your panties, if you’re even fucking wearing any, are already soaked.”

You hate the fact he’s right. Your breathing slightly heavy as your eyes widen as you listen. Shifting, you clench your thighs even tighter as one of your hands slips between your thighs slightly. You can’t see his eyes but you can feel his stare bruning into yours and you actually look away. This hasn’t happened before.

“Look. At. Me.”

Your eyes snap back and your mouth hangs open slightly. You can feel how wet you are every time you shift and by god do you need something here. “What do you want, love?”

“I would very much like to take you up on that offer and suck you off,” you nod your head in the direction of the alleyway.

“Excited, aren’t we?”

“We’ve been at this for months of fucking course I’m excited.”

He grips your jaw tightly, “I’d watch that tone if I were you. I can happily just walk away and leave you here alone.” Your eyes travel downwards and spy his half hard bulge against his jeans and then back up, “I can handle myself and sleep much more satisfied than you probably would with your fingers,” leaning close to your ear, “but I’d be a fool to leave you so desperate without giving you a taste.” Your eyes nearly roll into the back of your head but he lets go of your jaw and spins you around, smacking your ass. You startled with a yelp before quickly scurrying to the alleyway.

Any sane person, seeing the alleyway lead to the woods, probably would have taken the chance to run but not you. You were so desperate to finally fuck this copy cat that you spun around as he rounded the corner. You gasped as your back slams against the brick wall feeling pain through your shoulder for only a brief moment as your hands fly to Ghostface’s wrist as he holds you there by your throat. Oddly enough your calm even though he could easily choke you as your breathing becomes a bit more jaded. Lifting his mask slightly you stare at the slightly chapped but pink lips as you drop your bag. They look so familiar, why?

You can’t really think longer on it as he moves his hand up to your jaw tightly and his lips are on your neck as you gasp for air. He wedges his knee between your legs and immediately you roll your hips whining loudly. You let your eyes drift close as the figure litters your neck in kisses along with marks. You let the figure tilt your head so he can litter the otherside in matching marks. Your nails dig into his wrist earning a hiss against your neck. When he pulls back your eyes stare at his lips and you’re so tempted for a taste. You find yourself starting to lean in before he’s pushing you onto your knees. Blinking, you're now eye level with his obvious bulge and glance up at him fixing his mask.

Dropping your gaze, your hands get straight to work. Undoing his jeans you pull the zipper down before pulling his pants down just enough. You hold your breath seeing the outline of his cock because oh it looks so much bigger than you’ve had which…was very few. There was only one way to really find the truth. You let your fingers dance across the waistband of his boxers before you tug, cock basically popping free. You lean back with wide eyes because it is bigger than you’ve had. It’s actually the biggest you’ve ever had. The length was maybe just an inch or two over average which was impressive enough but it was the girth that really made your mouth water and the precum leaking out just makes you drool.

Gently wrapping a hand around his cock, the figure’s breath hitches as he bucks his hip. You give a few experimental tugs not really for a reaction but more so to get a feel of him in your hand. Big. Girthy. Heavy. God, how pent up was he? You feel fingers through your head as you continue to cautiously jerk him off before licking the tip. The reaction pulled out of the figure was a low satisfied groan and it encourages you to take the tip of his cock into your mouth. You swirl your tongue around the tip before sucking, alternating between the two before you finally you’re ready.

If you had known how big he was you would’ve been a bit more…prepared. You weren’t naive enough to think you could take all of him down your throat. God no. Maybe with some training and patience later if the figure would let you but you didn’t have either of those things or really time on your side. Still, you had to make sure to keep the figures interested in you- even if he’s killed for you already. Better safe than sorry, right?

Hollowing your cheeks out and flattening your tongue on the underside of his cock, you start to suck him off. Bobbing your head you can’t help but feel a bit of a rush go to your head as the figure above lets out another loud ground. You glance up to see the figure’s neck as his head is tilted back. You're absolutely drenched watching him and find yourself slipping a hand into your own pants and moan around him as you rub your clit. That catches his attention as his head snaps down to look at you.

“Naughty girl. You’re so turned on from sucking me off that you have to touch yourself?” It earns a strangled whine, “such a pathetic slut.”

You can’t help but moan at that. “Wow. You are so fucking pathetic it’s adorable.” The figure coos and grips your hair to stop you. Shifting, he puts one foot in front of you and smirks, “here why don’t you just hump my leg while you’re at it.” He taunts.

Funny enough you’ll take him up on that. The moment he frees your head you go back to bobbing your head on his cock humming in delight as you hug his leg, settling on his foot and grind your hips down. If your lips weren’t so occupied at the moment you would smirk at the shocked reaction you pull from the figure but you’re lost in your own world. The stretch of your jaw combined with the already dull ache lulls you into a peaceful trance. You completely ignore the spit that’s starting to wet your chin.

You feel the figure’s other hand gently grab your jaw trapping you in place suddenly. You stared up with doe eyes as the figure fucked your face before you felt him hit the back of your throat. You gagged and your hands flew to his thighs for some stability as he repeated the action. “So fucking good. Taking my cock,” the figure grunts out and tears prick your eyes when he stops moving and you gag because he’s so far down your throat. He pulls off just enough for you to gasp and get some air before he’s back in your mouth and fucking your face again. You’re prepared for it this time as you relax your throat and gag less.

Having lulled yourself into such a peaceful you nearly let your eyes slip close. Sliding your hands down, you wrap your arms around Ghostface’s leg as you continue to fuck yourself against his foot while he fucked your mouth. You ended up tuning everything else out except him and listening to him ramble was going to get you off alone. ‘Such a gorgeous cock drunk whore’, ‘you look so pathetic humping my leg while you let me fuck your mouth it should be illegal’, and ‘you’d look so beautiful being my personal cock drunk slut’. It’s the one you made out between all the groans and moans and curses. You felt his tug at your hair as a warning and you finally opened your eyes.

“Fuck–shit–I’m gonna–” He groaned but doesn’t stop his thrusting. He does the opposite as he picks the pace up. That’s all the encouragement you needed. You find your hips onto his foot even harder and faster as you. You feel the familiar coil in your abdomen and you’re trying so hard to reach it. He snaps his hips forward and forces himself down your throat. Your eyes go wide and you gag, choking on his cock as he spills into your throat. You hit his thighs and try to focus on breathing through your nose but even still the rough face fucking before forced deep throating was enough to send you over the edge. You groan and whine as you continue to hump his foot before he pulls you off his cock and slips his foot out from under you.

Sitting there, you gasp for air as your chest heaves. You look up at Ghostface and lick your lips slowly as you debate if you wanna turn over and let him fuck you right now. He would. For sure…probably and he taste good to. But that would be giving too much. You were the original after all. Finding your footing, you stand up and slide your pants down. There’s a choked sound from Ghostface and you glance over at the figure looking away.

“Seriously?” You raise a brow and giggle, “you just fucked my face but you get all bashful about seeing me in my panties.”

“I–well. I mean. No–” This one sucked at lying. Rolling your eyes, you look away as you take your pants off before sliding your panties off. “What are…” Ghostface’s voice trails off as you stuff your soiled panties into his front jeans pocket. “Consider it an IOU,” you say as you hurriedly put your pants back on. You’re grabbing your bag before the figure gets a chance, “this was fun but I have to run. My friend is coming over for a movie night and he’ll be pissed if I’m not there,” you sigh dreamily at the end of the alleyway, “he’s so caring like that. Anyway, bye!” You say before you’re slinging your back over as you take off. You get home and quickly change into some pajama panties (with new panties) and a sweatshirt before finding yourself settled on the couch while flipping through for a movie.

Hearing keys jingle you look up, you smile at your best friend walking in. You two are so close that he has his own copy. Oscar’s in a baggy grey hoodie with some black jeans on as he takes his shoes off before making his way to the back of the couch. He smiles slightly at you and offers dinner but you decline. As he turns for the kitchen, you spy something hanging out of Oscar’s pocket. It looks like a fabric of some sorts. Watching him in the kitchen, you decide to get some water. Quietly getting off the couch you stand in the doorway. Oscar continues to cook himself dinner and you wait until he’s focused on whatever is in the pan to strike. Passing behind him, your eyes drop down and your breathing stops. Black lacy panties with red roses on them. You look up at Oscar who’s glancing at you over his shoulder. His gaze follows yours and he smirks.

“Can I cash that IOU now, darling?”

[fairy-hub]

𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧’ 𝐦𝐞 𝐜𝐫𝐚𝐳𝐲

𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 • You decide to take things further with Toji for the first time.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 • non-curse au, daddy/princess/doll/sweetheart, heavy praise/teasing/encouragement, teaching/orruption/ virgin kink, mutual masturbation, you just soften him up a little babes he can't help it look at yourself, that being said he wants to rough you up virgin or no, age gap, collage student!f!insecure!early 20s-reader, mid-30!dilf!toji, hints of pussy eating, pussy sleeve toy, flavor lube, squirting, toji talking is filthy as always, massaging and fondling his cock and balls, he kisses your pussy once, light manhandling

𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐡 • 2k

𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐟𝐞𝐲: this has been in the drafts too long, I couldn't bring myself to delete it so I polished it up a tad bit and it is what it is

Breaking the kiss, you attempt to steal your nerves whilst catching your breath. "I...Iwantyourcock." You can't bring yourself to grab him. What if you did it wrong? And turned him off by hurting him, or by being unattractive?

Several insecurities steaming from your inexperience and presumed inability to measure up to those of Toji's past. "You look unsure. What's wrong sweet cheeks?" He could read you too well after five months of dating.

Toji squeezes your hip, cupping your cheek. You lean into his warm, rough palm. "Nothing's wrong just nervous." He peers deep into your eyes, searching for the truth.

"We can stop anytime you like but we can't take back what's been done." His sweet, passionate kiss is too short for your liking. "Whatever it is lemme take care of it for ya."

The hope of reassurance from the man you adore and trust makes it so much easier to crumble. "I'm gonna do something wrong." All the insecurities you've been holding at bay overlapping. Tears sting and blur your eyes.

"I'm not pretty, surprised you're still with me, and I won't be as good as-" Toji's cuts you off with a brief rough kiss. You tug on Toji dark hair, sliding your hand down his hard pecs. You fiddle with a button on Toji's black button-up shirt.

Toji wraps an arm around you, carrying you toward his bedroom. You cling to Toji, pressing your squishy body to his muscular one. Enjoying the contrast, and how secure it makes you feel to be carried by Toji.

"That's my beautiful girlfriend you're talking about." Toji drops you onto his bed, stepping back. "Don't care who you are, there are repercussions for anyone disrespecting my girl." Your gaze dips lower with each button Toji undoes. Showing his beautiful sculpted abs you found are sensitive to being kissed and bitten.

You sit up. "What are you gonna do?" Bitting into your bottom lip when Toji grabs his zipper. A cocky smirk etching into his face when he opts for fondling himself through his jeans.

"Nothing but you're gonna be a good girl for me. 'n you're gonna tell me what turns ya on while touchin' yourself." You stand up, turning around and bending over when you slide your panties down your legs. Kicking them back towards Toji.

You stand, your flowy skirt hiding your soaking wet cunt. "Wanna be your baby mama daddy." Reaching back, unzipping your dress with trembling hands. Expecting Toji to scoff at you.

Your cunt gets wetter from Toji's deep groan. "If keep calling me daddy, ya might be." You hear the clink of Toji's belt coming undone. "Turn around n’ look at your Daddy." You take in a shaky breath, your tongue too heavy in your mouth to speak.

He has your underwear in his hand, licking your slick off. Groaning at the taste, "Your beautiful virgin pussy tastes so good." He gives you an idea.

You slip your straps off your shoulders. Sliding your dress down as he does his pants. He wonders, "Does it turn you on thinking about settling down with me? Wanna be my wifey that badly?" When you nod he coo, "Aw ya warmin' up my cold heart doll." Slipping your finger past your lips, coating them.

Holding your fingers to his lips, "Want me to taste more of your soaking cunt? Ask nicely." There is a dark wet spot, his light gray underwear giving a mouthwatering outline. Cupping Toji, fondling him through his underwear.

He grabs your wrist but loosens his grasp as you massage his cock. You can't get the words out "If want to have your cunt filled with my warm cum, have it fucked deep into your guts you'll have't speak to me." Slipping your hand into his underwear. His warm, soft yet hard in your hands. His cock head is wet with smeared pre-cum.

You're wondering how it's easier to act than to plead. "Please Daddy taste my pussy" your voice drops, "fill me full of cum." Dragging his tongue up one of your fingers.

He demands, "Louder princess." He arches a brow and with more volume, you plead,,

"Please Daddy I want you to taste my pussy and fill me full of cum." He takes your fingers into his mouth. Eagerly cleaning your fingers. You slip your hand down, massaging his balls. He slips your fingers out with a pop.

"Your hand is so soft on my cock n' balls. But-" He pulls your hand out of his underwear, pushing you down onto the bed. Spreading your legs roughly, giving you a thrill of excitement.

He looks like on he's on the verge of ravaging your soaking cunt with the hungry almost feral way he looks at your pussy. You fight the urge to cover yourself up underneath Toji's studious gaze.

His scarred lips spread into a wide, cocky, hungry smirk. "Whose virgin pussy is this?" He covers your cunt with his large palm.

It's getting easier to whine, lust clouding your mind. Edging out your anxiety. "Yours Daddy. All yours. Use my virgin pussy to make you feel good." You can't hold your head up when he rubs his palm into your clit and lips. Between having someone else touch your pussy for the first time and the toe-curling pleasurable friction you can't think.

"Baby I just touched you and already you look like you loosen your mind. Such a beautiful, sensitive little virgin cunt pretty n' wet for me mama." He moves his hand to kiss your puffy clit.

Whining when he pulls away. You lift your head watching Toji walk to his dresser, where he pulls out a bullet-shaped toy. It springs to life vibrating, gently humming in his hand.

"Have you used one of these?" His cocky smirk makes it hard to think of little else other than the curve of his lips. The angular shape of his jawline and his narrow, dark brown eyes.

Toji groans, fondling his cock through his underwear. "The way you look at me doll, are you hungry for daddy's cock?" Closing the gap between, grabbing your chin, tilting your head back.

"Answer me mama. I'm being patient for your first punishment but eventually that will run out." He lets go of your chin, holding the vibrating toy out to you. Hesitantly taking it from him.

You huff, "First punishment?!" Furrowing your eyebrows, protesting, "But I did nothing!" He tilts his head to the side, confusion momentarily taking over his features.

Toji drops his underwear, pushing it to the side. "Did my darling forget you talked shit about yourself earlier?" His veiny, thick-hanging cock has you barely paying attention to anything else but his words.

Could he fit? Much less could you wrap your hand around him?

You want to grab him, kiss him, and bite his thigh. "When you throw a tantrum because you're moody or if you disrespect yourself, you'll get punished. Those are my first two rules." Toji grabs your chin, lifting your head. Tearing your gaze from his thick muscular thighs, fat cock, and large balls.

He grabs his cock, lifting it to your lips. "Princess the way you're lookin' at me is boosting my ego. I've been aching to fuck the shyness outta ya." Opening your mouth, sticking your tongue out.

Tempting Toji into touching you more, he glides his cock past your glossy lips. "Fuck I can't help myself. Suck in your cheeks, keep your teeth away, relax your throat." Sticking your tongue out, hallowing your cheeks. Looking up at him with watery eyes, gagging when he goes too deep.

The thought of him using your mouth to get off clouding over your nervousness. The second he stops moving you bob your head. Eliciting a loud groan of, "That's it, good girl, makin' me feel so nggg." His groans are getting rough raspy undertones making your cunt wetter.

"I wonder what crude things you're gonna say when I fuck the shyness outta ya." Tighten your grip on the pulsing toy, dipping it between your legs. You quickly jerk it away.

Toji croons, "Is my princess cute little cunt too sensitive for the toy?" Shoving your head down, forcing his fat, veiny cock into your throat. "That's too damn bad, hold it there." Touching the toy to clit. Whimpering around Toji's cock, curling your toes into the plush carpet sticking out from beneath the bed.

"Don't care how many times you cum if I see you take the vibrator off your clit one more time I'm slapping both your cheeks ten times with my belt." Lightly touching your clit, tensing up, jerking your hips back. It's a struggle to keep it on your clit.

The painful pleasure is beyond anything you felt cumming because of your fingers. Toji croons, "More pressure than that, don't fight the pleasure you can handle it princess. Ngg Such a shame I have to punish ya, when all I want to eat your pussy till she sloppy n' sensitive." He slips his cock out and crouches in front of you.

"But that will have't wait till you understand how beautiful you are." He groans "Never seen a pussy so beautiful to get me drunk on sight." His praise emboldens you to spread your lips apart for him.

"So fuckin' gorgeous, good girl, you already know what daddy wants to see. Mm fuck she's so beautiful clenching, looks like she's throbbing just aching for me to fill her up." He drags two fingers along your lips, gathering slick.

"Too bad I can't eat ya out mama. Such a pretty little virgin pussy, I should want to be gentler with ya. But it's makin' me feral, wanna ruin her, do things you've only read about and seen in porn." He grabs your thighs.

"Wanna be mean and feel your unstretched virgin pussy squeezin' my cock." His filthy words getting you off. "I'm strong enough to make my fat cock fit no matter how tight your little virgin cunt is. It would hurt you so much till I fuck her loose. You would look so beautiful cryin'." Your trembling, your tight cunt dripping cum before his eyes.

The thought of mean, angry Toji fucking you like he hates you is exciting and intimidating.

"It's getting so hard to think straight just lookin' at your pretty cunt. I'm going to make her cum even harder with my dick." He doesn't stop there his thought driving back to his sadistic fantasies.

"The thought of you tryin' to run away from my cock is drivin' me crazy. Wanna pin you down and fuck you into submission. More so I want to make you feel good, I never want to do anything you aren't comfortable with." He stands up, heading for the same drawer, pulling out a clear sleeve, big enough to fit his cock.

You're aching to pull the toy away from your clit. The pleasure is too much. "Daddy!" Willing yourself to withstand the intensity of the toy. If you couldn't take this, then how would you handle your massive boyfriend's oversized cock.

He has the type of cock you only see in videos. It's the type of cock that ruins a pussy for any other cock. And he is going to be your first.

You plead with Toji, "I'll be a good girl for you! I can handle your big cock daddy." He pulls out a bottle, pouring a clear liquid into the sleeve.

"Can you princess?" He sticks to fingers into it, and you've never been so jealous of an object before. "Yes! Daddy I can handle anything you give me. Wanna please you." Your whiny needy voice barely sounds familiar.

He slips his fingers out. "You're such a good little princess so eager to please. You'll be such an easy service sub for me to train." Bringing it over for you to look inside.

He smiles. "Aren't I lucky to get the chance to be your daddy dom." He holds the toy out for you to see. Recognizing the pussy sleeve from videos of muscular men similar to Toji jerking their cocks off with them. The outside of it is a replicate of fat, thick lips, and a puffy clit.

"You have't till I cum to convince me you know how beautiful you are. I want you to watch me fuck it while thinkin' 'bout how deep I'm gonna be in your guts." He spreads the fake lips apart, holding it closer to your lips.

"Put some flavored lube in it, go ahead n' taste." It smells sweet and fruity. Sticking your tongue into it, your nose touches the faux clit.

Toji croons, "Good girl, how does it taste? Hopefully good, 'cause you'll be drinking it with my cum." He pulls it away to line up with his cock. He glides it down his cock, tilting his head back, closing his eyes, and groaning.

"I wanna touch you." You want to be the one to draw pleasure reactions from him. To make him feel so good that his eyes roll back and his body shakes from overstimulation.

Toji insists with a taunting smirk "Shoulda thought of that 'fore shit talking n doubting yourself." Rolling his hips, turning the side showing his thick veiny cock gliding into the toy. "Nng going to stretch your sensitive soaking cunt with my fingers after you drink my cum."The clearness of it lets you see how deep he is reaching.

He's going to reach inside you, stretch your pussy out, and leave his warm cum deep inside you. "You've been blue-balling me for so long if I don't jerk off first I'm going to bust the moment I slip your sexy little super soaker." Your thoughts, his words, the sight in front of you, and the sensitivity of your pussy as you cumming again so quickly.

Your cunt spasming, thick clear cum squirting from your cunt onto the floor, and his bed. "Are you going to cum from watching my beautiful cunt make a mess?" He drops to his knees.

His voice is rough as he orders "Keep talking about your beautiful pussy sexy mama or I'm stopping." He grabs the toy and throws it onto the bed, burying his face into your pussy.

strawberry brat all works

[milksnake-tea]

helloo ! congratulations on ur 1k followers - ur writing is absolutely amazing ! may i request for ur event..dan feng + angst prompt 1 + angst dialogue 2 ? (please go easy…)

ty !! ( ´ ▽ ` ).｡ｏ♡

❀ ˎˊ- prompts: When they had to choose between you and the city, they chose the city. + "Please, stay. Just… stay." ❀ ˎˊ- 1k followers event ❀ ˎˊ- character: dan feng ❀ ˎˊ- warnings: u get abandoned for approx 10 minutes LMAOAO also maybe ooc... altho can u really be ooc about a character who had like 5 minutes of screentime and it was through villainizing lenses ❀ ˎˊ- a/n: THE WAY I GIGGLED AT THIS ASK... TBH IM NOT TOO SATISIFIED W HOW THIS CAME OUT BUT ITS OKAY I STILL LIKEY

Dan Feng was a man bound by his duty.

The title of Imbibitor Lunae did not come without mandates - on the contrary, it came with chains and shackles. Trapped with an obligation to his planet, it was a wonder how he even managed to secure a lover, with all the eyes on him.

He can never be selfish in the eyes of public, devoting everything he has to his people, from the scales on his tail to the tips of his horns. Only when he is with you can he be greedy, pressed against your body as he holds you like his most precious treasure.

But even so, you've always known that in the end, you were nothing compared to the Luofu. You've always known, but you always shoved it in the corner of your heart in favor for a sweet embrace with your lover.

So when Dan Feng turns his back on you, you aren't shocked like you expect. Your heart doesn't sting with betrayal, and the tears that trickle down your face are from your body being crushed rather than your heart.

The only thing you can feel is a dull ache in your chest, the light fading from your eyes as you realize that he isn't coming back.

Your vision is blurry as his silhouette fades into the sunset, the glint of his jade spear all the more familiar to you. And still, you reach for him, despite knowing that he won't look back - he never does, in times of crisis.

Ah.

You should really get out of here.

A mocking laugh bubbles in your chest, burning against your raw throat as you laugh hollowly. What a fool you were, and a selfish one too, to really expect him to save you when the entirety of the Luofu was in danger. You were just one of millions in the Alliance, a single drop in the boundless sea.

It hurts.

You click your tongue, letting out a frustrated sigh as you pull yourself up from the debris. Your legs scrape against the rubble as you drag them out, one after the other. Closing your eyes, you lean against a slab of concrete, and wait.

You don't have to wait long.

The sound of flowing water and silk sleeves alerts you of the return of your lover. Your fingers twitch, but you're too exhausted to open your eyes. You hear Dan Feng let out a strangled gasp before the familiar cloth of his embrace pulls you into him.

The terrified whimper of your name strikes deep into your heart as Dan Feng's cloudhymm magic swirls around your wounds.

"No," he grits out. You can imagine his expression right now, eyebrows furrowed and tears glistening in his cerulean eyes - tears that will never break and flow. "Great Long, please, not them too..."

"Calm down, Dan Feng," you chuckle wearily, managing to open your eyes just a bit. The image of your lover is still blurry, but you can make out the teal of his horns, glowing with power as he strives to save you. "From the way you're talking, I might as well be on my death bed."

Relief washes over Dan Feng as you speak, his hand cradling your face as he meets your gaze.

"You almost were," he whispers. "If I hadn't left you, you wouldn't-"

"I'm stopping you right there," you quiet him, pressing a finger to his lips. "You had a battle to win. If you'd abandoned the Luofu for me, neither of us would be able to live with it."

But Dan Feng isn't a fool. He sees the hurt in your eyes, and he saw the way you reached out to him back then. It had killed him, having to leave you like that.

"I'm sorry for leaving you," he says. A smile slips onto your face.

You wanted to console him, and say it was okay - that everything was fine. But you couldn't bring yourself to lie like that. Instead, you opted for leaning your head on his shoulder, nuzzling into him as you once again closed your eyes.

"Just... stay," you murmured, feeling as the shock of the impact left you, leaving only exhaustion. Dan Feng's cloudhymm is soothing against your aching body, lulling you to rest.

Dan Feng nods, standing up as you doze off against his shoulder. You rock slightly as he carries you to shelter, but you couldn't care less. All you cared about was his temporary embrace, even if you would wake up to him gone once again.

After all, the battle still wasn't over. Dan Feng's shackles had yet to be broken. And until they were, he would have to leave you, over and over again.

reblogs w comments are appreciated !!

[tacroyy]

losing my shit about the two times vimes gets slapped by a woman in the guards books (night watch and snuff; spoilers for both below). terry pratchett is completely goddamn brilliant.

both times, it's near enough to the beginning of the plot that vimes is partially convinced he doesn't know what's going on and is still information gathering (so, working a little on autopilot, although thoughts are starting to coalesce). the women he encounters show up after a watershed moment—major transformative plot points on both occasions—and both help him and help move the narrative along with the information they provide. and this is my favorite detail—he's tired both times, too, and just needs to think, because of the amount of new information he's processing.

from night watch:

"I think perhaps I lost my memory when I was attacked," he said. That sounded good, he thought. What he really needed now was somewhere quiet, to think.

"Really? Perhaps I'm the Queen of Hersheba," said Rosie [Palm]. "Just remember, kind sir. I'm not doing this because I'm interested in you, although I'd admit to a macabre fascination about how long you're going to survive. If it hadn't been a cold wet night I'd have left you in the road. I'm a working girl, and I don't need trouble. But you look like a man who can lay his hands on a few dollars, and there will be a bill."

"I'll leave the money on the dressing table," said Vimes.

The slap in the face knocked him against the wall. /end quote

and from snuff:

She [Felicity Beedle] turned to Vimes. "It would seem, commander, that providence has brought you here in time to solve the murder of the goblin girl, who was an excellent pupil. I came up here as soon as I heard, but the goblins are used to undeserved and casual death. I"ll walk with you to the entrance, and then I've got a class to teach."

Vimes tugged at Feeny to make him keep up as they followed Miss Beedle and her charge toward the surface and blessed fresh air. He wondered what had become of the corpse. What did they do with their dead? Bury them, eat them, throw them on the midden? Or was he just not thinking right, a thought which itself had been knocking at his brain for some time. Without thinking, he said, "What else do you teach them, Miss Beedle? To be better citizens?"

The slap caught him on the chin, probably because even in her anger Miss Beedle realized that he still had his steel helmet on. /end quote

vimes makes mistakes. he makes mistakes all the time, and he knows this, and pays attention to them. vimes spends a lot of time thinking about thinking (engaging in productive, internally motivated metacognition well within his zone of proximal development, my master's in teaching insists i say). he thinks about his thinking, and he thinks about other people's thinking through the lens of his own.

in both instances, vimes is coming to realizations about the true nature of things.

in night watch, this would initially seem to be more surface than deep: he's getting to physical grips with exactly when and where (and who) in the past he is; he's learning the ground, mapping, figuring things out—but vimes is also trying to settle himself back in to what he knows, and what society is in these different times, to see if that fits. plotwise, in vimes's present, the seamstresses have a guild, rights, safety, standards, rules, regulations, and even societal respect—although certainly not close to what they deserve, it's much more than what they had before vetinari made their guild a reality. but in the past, where vimes is now, the seamstresses don't have this level of security, and are subject to violence (although it is shown to be societal and legal violence [being arrested for working during their profession's peak, etc] rather than interpersonal or sexual violence [the agony aunts exist and, it is clearly stated, dispense the same justice that they do in the future, specifically to individual clients rather than to larger institutional structures]).

so, when vimes puts down rosie by making a disparaging joke about her profession—oh, you're actually not important to me or to men or to society at all; your labor is not to be respected; i got what i needed from you and will of course pay you, but in the most insulting way possible—he's not only communicating what society thinks, but a moral issue of the novel as well. night watch, after all, is about revolution: who gets to be in power, and who gets to control who gets to be in power? it's frankly revolutionary for pratchett, a mainstream english author, to treat sex workers and sex work as positively as he does (of course, his depictions are not without flaws). he makes it clear that, after all, shouldn't we view sex work as physical labor? isn't it true that anyone who is employed is engaging in physical labor? how is a seamstress really different from a "seamstress"? (it's the power dynamics and misogyny standard to western/european/american/christian society: women and sex must be controlled by the patriarchial majority, kept small and afraid and in chains.) pratchett legitimizes the seamstresses in vimes's present. in vetinari's ankh-morpork, the seamstresses have just as much power as the merchants, the armorers, the assassins—and vimes knows this, but he did grow up in the past he's in now.

in snuff, vimes's approaching anagnorisis is more obviously manifested. brilliantly, pratchett begins vimes's encounter with the goblins by talking about vimes's childhood teacher, mistress slightly, who "taught [him] how not to be afraid" and made him blackboard monitor, "the first time anyone had entrusted him with anything;" vimes thinks he'll put a bag of peppermints on her grave if he gets out of this alive. all positive, and in fact clearly transformative, praise from our hero. but vimes is in a goblin cave, and pratchett has brought up mistress slightly because vimes is remembering his first (educational, not physical) encounter with goblins. this paragraph is worth quoting in full:

"[Mistress Slightly] had one book in her tiny sitting room, and the first time she had given it to young Sam Vimes to read he had got as far as page seven when he froze. The page showed a goblin: the jolly goblin, according to the text. Was it laughing, was it scowling, was it hungry, was it about to bite your head off? Young Sam Vimes hadn't waited to find out and had spent the rest of the morning under a chair. These days he excused himself by remembering that most of the other kids felt the same way. When it came to the innocence of childhood, adults often got it wrong. In any case, she had sat him on her always slightly damp knee after class and made him really look at the goblin. It was made of lots of dots! Tiny dots, if you looked closely. The closer you looked at the goblin the more it wasn't there. Stare it down and it lost all its power to frighten. 'I hear that they are wretched, badly made mortals,' the dame had said sadly. 'Half-finished folk, or so I hear. It's only a blessing this one had something to be jolly about.'"

a near-perfect depiction, unfortunately, of the educational experience. encounter something that scares you and makes you uncomfortable, examine it with the help of a pedagogist, examine it on your own, take it apart so that you are not afraid anymore, and instead understand what it is and how it is made: that's the experience from the first word of the quote all the way until "Stare it down and lost all its power to frighten." and then, a heel-turn: your teacher shows that they completely misunderstood the lesson they were teaching—and that you, the child, understood both parts of the lesson perfectly: you absorbed the critical thinking skills and that this existing societal prejudice is, in fact, totally correct and should not be examined using the skills you just learned.

thus, pratchett has vimes, our hero, our moral center, spout the violent, ingrained, dehumanizing, incitement-to-genocide nonsense of the society in which he has been formed. vimes does this tiredly, without thinking, without making the connection between how things are and how they ought to be, missing the direct relationship of that required moral reevaluation to the case and situation at hand. and pratchett throws that directly back in vimes's face, physically. both times, pratchett says: even if you're tired, even if there's shit going down, even if your worldview is being turned upside down, even if you're in the dead middle of processing everything you've so recently learned, you cannot make the mistake of dehumanization/depersonalization. and you, of all people, have to know that, vimes. not one drop of alcohol passes your lips, not one minute after six goes by without you reading to your son, not one arrestee is subjected to even small or casual police brutality. and not one person—seamstress or goblin—is to be insulted and discriminated against and excluded from deserving to live. to do so, to make that mistake even once, is to face the immediate physical consequences of it from someone deeply and fundamentally in the know. you need the sense smacked into you.

from night watch:

"Consider that a sign of my complete lack of a sense of humor, will you?" said Rosie, shaking some life back into her hand.

"I'm... sorry," said Vimes. "I didn't mean to... I mean... look, thak you for everything. I mean it. But this is not being a good night."

"Yes, I can see that."

"It's worse than you think. Believe me."

"We all have our troubles. Believe me," said Rosie. /end quote.

from snuff:

It was a corker, nonetheless, and out of the corner of his stinging gaze he saw Feeny take a step back. At least the boy had some sense.

"You are the gods' own fool, Commander Vimes! No, I'm not teaching them to be fake humans, I'm teaching them how to be goblins, clever goblins! Do you know that they have only five names for colors? Even trolls have around sixty, and a lot more than that if they find a paint salesman! Does this mean goblins are stupid? No, they have a vast number of names for things that even poets haven't come up with, for things like the colors shift and change, the melting of one hue into another. They have single words for the most complicated of feelings; I know about two hundred of them, I think, and I'm sure there are a lot more! What you may think are grunts and growls and snarls are in fact carrying vast amounts of information! They're like an iceberg, commander: most of them is where you can't see or understand, and I'm teaching Tears of the Mushroom and some of her friends so that they may be able to speak to people like you, who think they are dumb. And do you know what, commander? There isn't much time! They're being slaughtered! It's not called that, of course, but slaughter is how it ends, because they're just dumb nuisances, you see. Why don't you ask Mr. Upshot what happened to the rest of the goblins three years ago, Commander Vimes?"

And with that, Miss Beedle turned on her heel and disappeared down into the darkness of the cave with Tears of the Mushroom bobbing along behind her, leaving Vimes to walk the last few yards out into the glorious light. /end quote.

[arabellasleopardcoat]

Three-headed dragon (Rhaenyra Targaryen x reader)

Summary: Three times Rhaenyra marked you, and one time you did too. Or snippets of the love story I so wanted to tell but didn’t feel confident enough to write.

Warnings: Implied smut. Dance of the dragons. Canon character death (Not Rhaenyra)

Rquested: Yes!

A/N: I have not read the books, and I have only gotten one hickey in my life. I hope my ability to describe it's alright. Ignore the bra and the hegemonic body in the first picture, it's for the vibes.

“How many years have you spent by my side?” Rhaenyra asks, as you fix her hair in the mirror. It’s an important day, even if none of you know it at the time. It’s early. Her husband is off somewhere, no longer sleeping in the same bed as her. She is too pregnant, she jokes. You doubt it. You have long wondered what her relationship with Prince Daemon is. Are they star crossed lovers, who finally get their happy ending? Are they Uncle and Niece, married out of political convenience? You can’t tell.

You know which one you prefer, though. It must be kept secret, this deep-seated, long-lasting admiration for your Princess. You have been through it all, together. Youth, marriages, motherhood, widowhood. Ruining it now, with your feelings, would be foolish.

“Since we were sixteen.” You place different ribbons over her hair, testing, draping. It’s not your job, technically. You are a noblewoman in your own right, not supposed to be here on Dragonstone, but back in the North, where your long deceased husband’s bones rest.

Not meant for marriage, and ready to start your career as a Septa, you had found yourself as a companion to a much younger Rhaenyra. She had secured, in an admirable move, a marriage by proxy with some old lord. You had not even managed to reach the North when he had passed, leaving you as the sole heir to a small castle close to the Boltons.

With such undesirable neighbors, and the news that your Lord Husband was dead, you had decided to come back into Rhaenyra’s service. Her companion through childhood, now by her side during the trials of adulthood.

“Sixteen. Such a long time.” Rhaenyra squeezed your hand, eyes meeting yours in the mirror. “Served loyally and never asking for anything in return.”

“Only your friendship.” Your love, you wanted to scream. Your love, for you to see me, since I am still here and I want you. Don’t you see how much it has hurt me, when I am yours, yours, and you were Criston’s, then- -

But you say nothing of the sort. Not wanting to ever risk what you had. Love is selfless, you remind yourself. You can’t have her, nor can you own her. Rhaenyra is the Seven Kingdoms, Aegon’s Crown. You cannot hope to own her or rule her. The Iron Throne, as everyone knows, was not made for a woman.

“You are not my friend,” Rhaenyra says, and the shock must show on your face because she laughs. Silver bells filling the room, the laughter of a golden Princess. “You are family, by this point. Haven’t you cared for the boys as if they were yours?”

And it’s true. You have loved those children because they are half her. You have been the preferred aunt, the accomplice, and the one to teach them things as important as the proper way to hold a quill. As the saying goes, it takes a village. The children are your combined efforts, alongside hers, Daemon’s and Harwin’s.

“You are as much a mother to them as I am.” Yours. Rhaenyra is saying the boys are as much hers as they are yours. “I have been thinking.”

You are so grateful for it, you could cry. But that’s not why Rhaenyra likes you.

“Oh? You are capable of it? We must inform the Maesters.”

Rhaenyra laughs.

“More respect for your future Queen.” She tries putting on a scolding expression, but is unable to keep her face straight.

“Oh, your majesty! I never meant to offend?” You give her a mock curtsy, and she giggles a bit more. You love her like this, you have come to realize. Rhaenyra is a woman of many flaws, even as a mother. She has grown into something larger than life, a presence that commands rooms yet manages to remain full of love to give.

“Stop it, you,” Rhaenyra complains. “I’m trying to do something here. Have a gesture.”

You sober up, a smile still tugging at your lips.

“I was thinking perhaps you should start wearing my house colors. And before you say anything, I mean it as an order. I already had you made three new gowns.”

You open and close your mouth a few times.

“Dragon got your tongue?” She teases, cradling her belly.

“Rhaenyra… I… Too much?” Because you are not sure what she is saying, but definitely she is not calling you sister. She would say it plainly, your Rhaenyra. That she is telling you to wear her house colors… That’s what men do. To their wives.

“It’s what you deserve.”

She is informed of her father’s death that day. The only person she allows in the room with her, as she loses baby Visenya, is you. From woman to woman. No one else gets to glimpse the fragile human who lives inside the dragon, not even Daemon.

You declare war dressed in black and red.

The Black Council is filled with fools, despite the support they show to Rhaenyra. You know it. She knows it. That’s why it doesn’t come as a surprise to you when you go to step inside the war room, and a guard bars the entrance with his lance. You have been expecting this moment. Dreading it, even. It was bound to happen.

“I am sorry, my Lady, but you are not allowed inside. Orders of the Prince consort.” Of course. Of course it's Daemon. Despite expecting it, you can’t help but be surprised at his boldness.

You don’t wish to make a scene. You truly don’t. But it scares you more than you thought it would. First, you will be banned from rooms. Then, dismissed, if not outright executed. This day had to come, you knew. Everyone had family on the other side of the war, with all the noble houses having intermarried at least once.

In the years to come, the conflict will be known as one that teared brother from brother. You don’t know this, you will not live to see it. Yet, it rattles in your bones.

“What? Prince Daemon?” You ask a little too loud. It attracts the attention of some other people in the hallway, including Rhaenyra who is just arriving. She looks more regal than ever in a black gown that compliments her pale skin.

Whispers start to break out among the gathered, surely reminding your heritage. Everyone is waiting to enter the war room, and the lance the guard has extended across the doorway is certainly drawing attention.

“What’s going on here?” Rhaenyra asks, placing a hand on your lower back and eyeing the guard with suspicion. The man lowers his head.

“My Queen, Prince Daemon has said…” He starts to explain, but Rhaenyra silences him with a dismissive wave of the hand. Ashamed, you lower your eyes.

“I do not care what he has said.”

“He has prohibited the Lady from entering…” The guard argues. Next to you, Rhaenyra tenses. You know he has already angered her, daring to speak above her like that.

“Is Prince Daemon King? Does he wear the crown?” She asks him, fiercely. The guard, wisely, keeps quiet. “She is my right hand. I will not suffer to see her disrespected.”

And with that, Rhaenyra moves the lance aside with a brush of her hand, leading you inside by the small of your back.

At the table, Daemon stands, moving some pieces along the map of Westeros. His back is to you, but he turns as he hears the commotion that precedes your arrival. A smug little smirk is on his lips, as he sees your discomfort.

“What are you…?” Daemon says, when he processes that you are, in fact, inside the room he had banned you from. Then, he notices Rhaenyra. “Ah.”

He squares his shoulders, getting ready for a fight. You try to pull away from Rhaenyra, but the hand on your back turns into claws, grasping at your dress to keep you right where you are.

“Why did you order the guards to not let her inside?” Rhaenyra speaks in a tone that leaves no room for argument. Daemon has to answer her or else. It’s a tone you had heard frequently when she tries to reign her sons in.

“Because I thought she didn’t belong in the war room, my Queen.” Daemon saunters towards you, no doubt trying to intimidate you. You lift your chin defiantly. Usually, you two avoid each other’s path. He resents your position in Rhaenyra's life, as her most trusted council. You resent that he gets to share her bed.

“You gave a ridiculous order.” Rhaenyra argues, rubbing your lower back in soothing circles, as if you were a spooked horse.

“Not so ridiculous. We have known for a long time there is a spy. Why should it not be your pet?”

“I am not! You truly think I would do something as vile?” Desperate and feeling powerless, you turn towards Rhaenyra. For a second, you truly think she might believe him. It’s the scariest second of your life. Losing her in a trap set up by Daemon? You hope she can see how genuine the next words you speak are. “I would never endanger the children, never endanger you!”

“I know.” Rhaenyra says, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “I know.”

“Come on. Her family is as green as they come.” Daemon raises his hands in the air, as if asking for patience to the Seven Heavens.

“My family is here.” You say, firmly. “Jace, Luke, Joffrey, Viserys, Aegon…”

“So you say. But they are not your family, are they?” It feels as if Daemon has burned you. Nothing has hurt you more. Not even the accusations about you being a spy, or the time you thought you would have to leave Rhaenyra to marry some Lord in the North.

You have spent all your life next to her. All your best years. Now, you are an old spinster, despite being barely thirty. You have always wanted children, like any noble lady in Westeros. It was too late for it now. No lord would want a widow past her prime.

Yet, you have always thought that the void the lack of children of your own had left could be filled by Rhaenyra’s boys. Secretly, you thought yourself a mother already. What else could you be, when your name had been Jace’s first word? When you were the one holding Luke’s hands as he learned to walk?

Daemon wasn’t saying it openly, but it was clear that was what he meant. Rhaenyra’s children were not yours. As they had not been Harwin’s.

“They are!” Rhaenyra insists, but you are barely hearing it. The thought of it has left you too distraught to care about whatever you are discussing. It feels as if your heart is being carved out of your chest. Were Daemon about to suggest executing you for treason, you doubt you would worry. How could you, when it feels as if he has gutted you already? “We are. She is family. And I will hear no more of this matter.”

Her hand curves possessively around your waist. A claim, for everyone to see. You lean into her, shell shocked by it all.

But Daemon isn’t about to let this go. He pulls out a crumpled piece of parchment from his pocket, one you recognize too well. You slump in defeat, despite Rhaenyra’s hands urging you to stay upright.

Daemon clears his throat, dramatically.

“And I fear your time with the Princess.” He stresses the last word, making a long pause. You close your eyes, and keep them closed tight. “Has come to an end. I urge you to come back to the Stormlands, where no harm shall befall you. For King Aegon is the most merciful when the misguided sheep comes back to the herd.” Daemon crumples the paper, and throws it to the floor. You wince. “Nothing to say?”

You shake your head.

“Daemon…” Rhaenyra warns, arm around your waist turning into a vice-like grip. You do not understand it, then. It will be a long time before you do.

“Did or did not your father write that?” He whispers, dangerously.

“He did.” You answer, in a voice so small it’s nearly inaudible. Daemon slams his hand on the table, making you jump, and struts out of the room.

You start to sob, quietly. This is it. Rhaenyra is going to dismiss you from her service. It’s true that your father has been urging you to come back home, stating that you would be protected. Begging you, even. Promising all sorts of things, from freedom, to riches, to a husband, to becoming the wife of a Prince. That’s his level of desperation.

It’s unlike him, to worry so much. But you know part of it is not just fatherly affection and genuine concern for your well-being. No. Taking you from Rhaenyra’s side would be the greatest hit the Blacks could take. Lately, you are one of the few things keeping the Queen calm and tethered to reality. You love her, but ever since Luke passed, Rhaenyra has turned almost unrecognizable. She is paranoid and harsh in ways you had never seen before. Crueler. More Targaryen than usual.

And not only that. You hold an unusual amount of information inside your head. Battle plans, supply chains, locations. Everything that has been the key to the Black’s success so far, you know. The information is too valuable to pass on. If you were to turn to the Greens, you would have to share it, be it voluntarily or forcibly. You are not foolish enough to not know it.

“Breathe, darling.” Rhaenyra cradles your face between her hands. “It's alright. I know you would never betray me. Breathe.” She exaggerates her breathing, placing your hand on her chest. It’s only then you realize you have started to hyperventilate. She pulls you into her, hugging you. On the doorstep, Daemon watches.

You don’t know what has gotten into her. Never has she touched you like this. It’s not the first time you kissed. You had both been sixteen and curious, once. But it had not gone further than learning how to kiss another person without it being gross. Because that was what friends were for. Obviously.

She smells like soot and blood. It’s clear she has rushed to your side, not even taking time to change after the battle. You wonder who she killed, this time. What city has she burned, how many of the small folk she and Daemon have doomed?

“I thought… When they said there were revolts on the road….” And her mouth is yours, and you can’t think because you want her so bad you aren't concerned about the consequences. Half the Kingdom is against you, already. You are considered traitors on one side, she is the Queen on the other. What does it matter, really, that it’s called a sin? You will die anyway.

“You are mine. Please. Say it to me, love.” Rhaenyra pleads, kissing your jaw. She looks so gorgeous in armor, you feel like you might die any time you glance her way. And now, you get to have her. It’s intoxicating, having all that power at your fingertips. A goddess come to life, set on claiming you, you and only you.

“I am yours.” You say, kissing her brow. You won’t question it. Not when you are so close to getting your darkest fantasies come true. “I have always been.”

“Mine.” Rhaenyra kisses the hollow of your throat. “You are mine.”

She grabs your hand, pulling you towards a chair. The room you are in is not yours, nor hers. Neither of you care, too desperate for each other. Rhaenyra doesn’t care that her blood soaked armor is staining someone’s chair. You don’t care that your dress is getting thrown around someone's room. Just in your chemise, she pulls you into her lap.

It will have to be burned, after this. There is no way you will be able to salvage the white cotton shift after straddling her lap. The blood sticks the two of you together, but you are too joyous to care.

“I love you.” You say to her, as she bites down on the column of your throat, harshly. Still a little bloodthirsty.

A beat of silence. Have you ruined things before they truly began?

“I love you too.” Rhaenyra says, as she kisses your collarbones. “I love you, and you are mine.”

“All yours.” You answer, breathlessly. Purple flowers blooming across your collarbones, a red angry rose right by your ear. Her bloodstained hands leaving marks upon your arms.

“Yours, yours, yours.” You moan as someone clinging to a lifeline.

“All mine, all mine, all mine.” She answers back.

A bite where your shoulder meets your neck. It’s painful, stinging, your vision blurring into soft flashes of orange and red.

“Just take it for me, please. Please, sweet girl.” Rhaenyra sucks another bruise on your skin. Deep lilac that will bloom into soft green. “I need this. I need them to know you are mine, even if we can’t tell them.”

You pant. There is a certain pleasure to it, being kissed with the barest hint of teeth. But it’s more than just the kisses, what has you panting in arousal. It’s the way she treats your body as her own personal canvas. As if you were a precious artwork Rhaenyra is bringing to life with her kisses.

A maroon chrysanthemum, just over your collarbones. Front and center, the bruise blooms. Her hand, holding your jaw still for the softest torture.

You are uncertain if she is doing it out of fear, trying to make sure you are still there. If she is a bit sadistic, in the way Targaryens are. Or if this is simple, raw reassurance that you are willing to do anything she asks. You save the wondering for later, though. At the moment, you are too busy breaking down under the talented mouth of your Princess.

You don’t want to be separated from her. You know, you know, that something bad is about to happen. Some nights, you wake up, choked up in a bad feeling. You barely recognize her anymore.

Luke’s death had devastated everyone. You thought, after that, never again would you know such pain. You were mistaken. In the months to come, it was as if the children were falling as flies. Everywhere you looked. Jace, Joffrey, Viserys. And through it all, you had been by her side.

Rhaenyra has transformed into something that’s equally beautiful and terrifying. Far more determined and possessive, love harsher and unwilling to let go. Desperation does funny things to women.

As children, your love had been more pure. Untainted but also untested. Your innocence had been lost long ago. But a love that was not pure didn’t mean a love that meant less. it just meant it had grown and changed, as things often did.

Rhaenyra’s heart was not what it used to be when you two were younger. No longer filled with dreams of cake and laughter. But you weren’t the same girl, either.

Before, you had felt the urge to mark her and settled for being marked instead. You had told yourself you were not allowed to have her, that she was Laenor’s, Harwin’s, Daemon’s. And each and each time, you pulled back, curling into yourself. No more. It was not enough, to be hers. No. It was not enough to be owned. You had so little now, you wanted everyone to know she was yours as you were hers.

“Rhaenyra.” You ask her, as she pushes you down to your knees, tossing and turning in the sheets. “Rhaenyra.” As your teeth bruise her thighs, as you bring her over the edge over and over again.

“Darling. Love. Come here.” And you want to sob because it’s not enough. You want her to be yours. You want her to be yours, so you can drag her and the kids away from this madness, far away to a land where the war won’t touch you. Where there is no Iron Throne to destroy the family you have built little by little.

She will never go. Not even after all the boys die. Not even after Daemon is dead, in an incident that’s half an attempt to escape her, half a suicide mission. You have no other choice but to remain by her side, too far in to do otherwise.

Leaving is giving up. Leaving is losing. Leaving is renouncing the Iron Throne, her birthright. She will never go. Rhaenyra would rather tear the realm apart than save herself, and it terrifies you.

What terrifies you more is the fact that despite all the grief, all the pain, you do not regret loving her. You just regret not loving her in the way she deserves, in the way she has been asking for. The clothes, the hands, the bruises. Only now do you realize Rhaenyra has been trying to mark you, claim you. And it’s like you two are finally speaking the same language.

“Promise me.” You whisper against her hair, as you lay in bed together. “Promise you will never take this off.” And you are slipping her a silly thing, a medal of the Mother you always carry with you for protection. It’s not exactly your house’s jewelry, or your cloak, as a man would give to a wife.

Rhaenyra laughs. She finds your devotion to the Faith of the Seven silly. But she gets it, anyway. She puts the medal on, close to her heart.

You loved her differently now. No longer your silver Princess, your childhood companion. In your chest, curling around your heart, a dark possessive thread rests, tying you to her. Finally, you meet her in the middle.

Rhaenyra has always loved you like certain things are meant to be loved. In secrecy. In the dark. Not of her own will, but yours. Rhaenyra didn’t care what others thought. She had been so bold before, trying to get you to step in the light for once. You had not realized it at the time, you had not been ready. You had worried too much.

And now, with no time to worry left, with death threatening your doorstep, you realize exactly what you were missing out on. Every time she walks away, chain glistening between her breasts, you get a secret thrill. She is yours. You know it. It’s your mark Rhaenyra wears close to her heart.

[blushweddinggowns]

Part 1 Part 3

It was an easy decision, proposing to Steve. Party because Eddie has been daydreaming about it since they got together, but mostly because he knew there was no way Steve would say no.

No, when a guy almost dies for you twice, chooses to move into a shitty apartment with you vs maintain financial security with his rich parents, and literally says he wants to be with you forever, it's a pretty safe bet that he's not going to say no to the idea of marriage.

All Eddie needed to do was get a ring. Easy.

Except it was anything but.

At the rate he was going, the proposal was never going to happen. He had gone through four jewelry stores in a span of three days, and he hadn’t found shit. They were all…wrong. Either too big and fancy, or too plain and generic. Nothing that Eddie could see his Steve wearing everyday.

In general, Steve just wasn’t a jewelry kind of guy. The one time he tried out Eddie’s rings for fun, he hated them. He was too hands on for anything clunky, and it was actually impressive how often he got them caught on his clothes in a twenty-four hour period.

But the simple bands weren’t right either. Maybe Eddie was just an obsessive sap, but…they weren’t special enough for someone as wonderful as Steve, and Eddie was running out of ideas.

So he called who he always did when he was stuck. He picked up on the third ring, and Eddie went straight into it, “Waaaaayne, I need help. And I needed it like yesterday.”

Wayne chuckled on the other end, the sound automatically bringing a smile to Eddie’s face, “What have you done now?”

“I’m in ring hell. I’m trying to ask Steve to marry me but-”

“Don’t tell me you already bought one.” Wayne interrupted, voice stern, “Did you?”

Eddie frowned, confused. He didn’t…he didn’t think Wayne would disapprove, not after all this time. Eddie swallowed, trying to hide the hurt in his voice, “Why Wayne, is that disapproval I hear? And no, I haven’t bought anything yet.”

Wayne sighed, catching onto it anyway, “Son, I don’t give a shit about what you two decide to do. If anything, you should have locked him down years ago.”

The knot in his stomach instantly disappeared, Eddie grinned, relieved, “Okay, first of all, rude. Second, if you don’t care, why shouldn't I buy a ring?”

“Because I have one already.”

Eddie stopped dead in his tracks, almost dropping the phone, “Huh?”

“Eddie, I know you, and I know Steve. I knew this day was coming and…I’ve been ready for it. It was my grandmother’s, but it’s from the 30s so don’t worry. It’s not too flowerly or anything like that.”

Jesus, Eddie was tearing up. He hadn’t expected that. It’s not like Wayne had ever had a problem with their relationship, he was beyond supportive. But Eddie hadn’t realized just how deep that support went, “I-I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t gotta say anything. I’ll send it to you and if it doesn’t work, it doesn’t work. But I think he’d like it.”

Eddie nodded, forgetting that Wayne couldn’t see him,“Y-yeah, sounds good. Sounds perfect.”

“Good, I’ll send it tonight. And you’ll tell me how it all turns out after, right?”

“Of course. And um, hey Wayne?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you man.”

He couldn’t see it, but Eddie could hear the smile in his voice, “I love you too kiddo.”

Eddie hung the phone up on the high, nervously excited to see thing. He watched the mail like a hawke for the next week, grateful that Steve was out when it finally arrived. He tore into the small package, like a kid on Christmas morning. Rose gold and engraved, and already re-sized. Wayne really had thought of everything.

It was the exact kind of ring that Eddie hadn’t been able to find anywhere. Pretty but subtle, perfect for his Steve. He loved it, and he was almost sure Steve would love it too. And he wouldn’t have to wait long to find out, because he was going to do it the second he saw him.

Eddie didn’t care if it was corny, he was going to be on one knee the moment Steve opened the door. He sat infront of it, his stomach doing flips as he waited. There was really no reason to be nervous, Steve couldn’t have made it clearer that he was going to get a yes, but he still was.

Steve just had that effect on him.

An hour later, the tell-tale sound of keys in the door hit him. He scrambled into position, heart racing, as he waited, stuck between being intensely excited and vaguely wanting to throw up.

“I’m home- what are you doing?” Steve stopped dead in his tracks, eyes wide at the sight of Eddie kneeling on the floor, ring in hand.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” Eddie laughed, nervous as he watched the emotions flash across his face. He had a hand over his mouth, eyes sparkling as he looked down at Eddie, waiting for him to continue.

Words, right. He had those. Eddie took a deep breath, shaking himself out of his staring to speak,

"Stevie, you are my whole world. And I don’t go a day without thanking the universe for letting you in my life, because you made it complete. I…I never thought I would ever be as happy as you make me. You were my first love. And I want- no, I need you to be my last because there is no one else in this world that I want to be with. So…baby will you marry me?”

Eddie should have seen it coming, but that didn’t stop the surprised oomf he made when Steve tackled him to the ground. The next thing he knew he was being kissed all over his face, a manically thrilled Steve on top of him.

He grinned down at him, happy tears already falling, “Abso-fucking-lutely.”

[yrluvjane]

𝒀𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒊𝒔 𝒃𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒏 𝒈𝒐𝒍𝒅 𝑰𝑰

[old money] James x fem!reader

《 Summary - James deals with feelings, and you fall ill after hearing the rumours spread about you of the day before, leaving you under his care.》

𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭

As James sat in his office, surrounded by a sea of paperwork and reports, all waiting for his signature, he couldn't help but think about you. Despite the relentless pressure of the approaching deadline, you kept popping up in his mind like a persistent siren, demanding his attention. 

There was something about you that James found intriguing, something that made him want to get to know you better, to understand what it was that made him feel this way. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but there was something about you that kept drawing him in - a spark, perhaps, or a certain sparkle that shone through in everything you did.

Maybe James was hallucinating, maybe it was just the rays of the sun shining over you but even then, he had met many beautiful women throughout his life, but there was something about you that set you apart, a certain inner light that made you special and captivating. 

James had always felt like he was a passenger in his own life, watching the days and weeks and months go by with no real sense of purpose. He tried to go with the flow and make the best of what he had, but deep down he knew it wasn't enough. He longed for something deeper and more meaningful, but was too afraid to take the risk and step out of his comfort zone.

He was stuck in this limbo of uncertainty, unsure of what to do and who to be. The only thing he knew for sure was that he wanted something more, something different, something like you.

He remembered how your eyes shined in the afternoon sun, and the connection that he felt to you that he couldn't quite put his finger on. James' thoughts drifted off, lost in the memory of that day in the garden, feeling a twinge of regret for not pursuing things further. 

He wondered what could have been, if he had been braver and taken a chance on you and he couldn't help but smile to himself, imagining what could have been, but before he could fully indulge in his thoughts, he registered the clicking sound of heels approaching his door. With a groan of resignation, he prepared himself to entertain another one of Marge's ramblings. 

As the door opened, the noise of the crowded office poured in, threatening to disrupt the peace and quiet of his own space. With a deep sigh, he took a deep breath and listened.

“It’s your dad.” She says. 

"Hello?" He says, a big smile spreading across his face. "Dad!" He says, his voice overflowing with joy. "How are you?" He asks, his mind already racing with all the questions he has for his father. James listens intently as his father speaks, taking in every word and relishing in the sound of his voice. 

His father is always there for him, no matter what, and that feeling of connection and security is indescribable. Even now, when he is older and wiser, James can't help but feel grateful for his father's constant love and support, and he knows that he's lucky to have someone who has been such a guiding force in his life. 

And so James decides to share his moment with you with his father, feeling a sense of relief as he does so.

The moment his son is done talking, Fleamont turns to his wife, full knowing she will be very interested in what he’s about to say. “What is it, Fleamont? Is he alright?”

"I think James fancies someone." he whispers, looking at her in disbelief. Euphemia's expression immediately softens and she breaks into a joyful grin. This was the first time Fleamont had witnessed his son developing a romantic interest, and it was a sight to behold.

Yes, James has had intimate relationships with women before but even though James didn’t admit to feeling something for this girl. Fleamont knew better, he can’t recall a time in his life where James had described someone in such a picturesque way.

"She's like a sunrise on a cold winter morning - she just lights up the whole room. Though very direct and sharp, definitely not someone you'd want to go head to head with."

"Ever smelled Jasmines before? Bloody irresistible. It's like she's walking around with a bouquets of them,"

Euphemia, not one to be kept out of the loop when it comes to her son's love life, immediately grabbed her phone and began to pester Sirius for information. She was eager to know who this girl was and how long James had been keeping her a secret. She knew that James held a special place in his heart for Sirius, the raven-haired boy who had been a constant presence in his life and was a brother to him and a son to her. 

She was sure that if James were to confide in anyone about his romantic interests, it would be with Sirius. So you could imagine Euphemia’s surprise  when she found out that Sirius was just as clueless as she was. Who was this girl that had caught James' attention? She wondered.

However, on the other side, James was completely oblivious to the fact that his previous actions would have an impact on your life. He never considered the consequences of his gestures, which would rather sooner than later turn your world upside down, leaving you to get burned and pick up the pieces.

The next day, you tried to downplay the whole thing when your friends had asked about him. They had seen the flowers and had immediately assumed that something more was going on between you. You had spent the better hour of an afternoon denying they were nothing more than that, Flowers.

They grilled you for hours, probing for any “juicy” detail they could get, and you truly did your best to avoid the topic. They continued to pester you about the man who butted himself into your life and you couldn't help but feel a sense of irritation.

In the end, you were left feeling exhausted and vulnerable, as though your personal boundaries had been completely trampled on by the curiosity of your friends. Your feelings towards James were a complex web of emotions, neither good nor bad, neither right nor wrong. 

James was a charming and charismatic man, and so it was natural to feel a deep and intense attraction towards him, but at the same time, there was a sense of apprehension, a feeling of uncertainty that you couldn't quite shake. Your friends' incessant questioning only served to inflame that feeling of confusion and frustration.

And for some inexplicable reason, it felt as though James was a deeply private matter, and one that you, yourself, didn’t quite understand and would only be revealed on your own terms, when you were ready.

It felt as if they were pressuring you to make sense of something that wasn’t really there. So, you did the only thing you could think of - you changed the subject, or else found a way to distract them long enough for the topic to be forgotten. 

The day after, when you walk into the kitchen, ready to start your shift, you can feel the tension in the air. There's an awkward silence when you enter the kitchen. You keep catching your colleagues exchanging looks and whispering to each other, but no one seems to want to talk to you and dismissive when you try to start a conversation.

No one speaks to you.

They avoid your eyes and whisper to each other in hushed tones. You try to break the silence with a cheerful, "Hey, good morning," but no one responds.

All they do is mutter and shoot you dirty looks and it may be the dramatic side of your brain talking but it almost felt like the whole world was against you, and you don't know what you did. 

You move towards Tina, who was one the first people you met when you first started and as such you considered her a dear friend. She’s standing over the cutting board, busily preparing carrots.Her hair is pulled up in it’s usual tight bun.  "Hey,," you call out quietly, hoping to avoid the attention of others, "Do you have a minute?" She looks up at you, her eyes cold. 

"I’m busy." she replies, her tone sharper and more clipped than the pins used to keep her hair in place.. Your heart sinks, and you try to ignore the disappointment rising within you. Trying to keep your head down and do your work, but it's difficult to focus when everyone around you seems to be avoiding you like the plague.

It's like you're a ghost, invisible and repelling all forms of life.

You feel like you could scream. Why is everyone treating you like this? 

All you want is some answers, and it seems no one is willing to give them to you. Feeling desperate, you decide to approach a more level-headed colleague, Mary. You approach her and try to appear confident, even though you feel anything but. "Hey, Mary," you say, trying to sound casual. "Can I talk to you for a minute?"

Mary turns to look at you, her eyes lighting up with kindness. "Of course, what's up?" She sends a soft smile at you, warm and welcoming a contrast to how everyone has been to you.

“Is it me, or does everyone seem a bit..closed off?” You try. And subconsciously take a step back when you see Mary’s smile falter for a second. Her brows furrow and it takes little convincing to pass off the look she gives you as pity. She looks at the rest of the crew who all seem to be eyeing her from the corner of their eyes, sending her warning glares like pariah’s eyeing their lunch. And in a fight or flight manner, you snap towards everyone with a glare, daring them to say something. Most go back to focusing on their own work, the minority left have the courage to look back at you and meet your stare. 

“Need help with something?” You offer. If your voice was once a warm fire that encouraged laughs and jokes then now it was an icicle, just as cold, just as sharp.

Mary's expression softens as she sees the concern in your eyes, when you turn back to her. She takes a deep breath and tries to maintain a calm demeanor, even as her own worries begin to surface. "It's not just you," she says softly. "I think–" Her eyes seemed to lock on something and you watched her bite her lips. “Come with me.” She says, her eyes boring into yours as she sends a heated glare to someone behind you.

You notice the tension in Mary's expression and you start to feel a pit forming in your stomach. Her tone is crisp, and you can tell that she has something urgent to say. You take a deep breath as you follow her out through the corridor, away from the others. Her pace is quick, and you almost struggle to keep up with her as she marches ahead. "What's going on, Mary?" you ask, feeling a sense of unease washing over you.

“Yesterday, Mr. Potter gave you flowers.” She says and your eyes widen in shock. How did she know that?  You wondered, it was definitely not the answer you had expected when you walked out here and when your lips parted so you could voice your thoughts, she spoke again, answering your question as though she read your mind.

“There are words going around,” she explained. “Some are saying you and Mr. Potter are…” Mary paused for a moment, “having affairs..” Her eyes are watching you carefully, as if searching for a reaction.

You take a deep breath, trying to keep your composure, and you look at Mary with a mix of emotions written all over your face. "Having affairs?" you scoff, your voice barely above a whisper. Mary pauses, her eyes locked on yours. After what feels like an eternity, she finally speaks, her voice soft and almost whispery. "They say that he favors you in an...intimate perspective." Her eyes seem to bore into yours with that, as though she's trying to see into the depths of your soul.

 A strange fusion of guilt and fear wash over you. You can't even imagine what it would be like to be intimate with Mr. Potter, but the thought alone sends shivers down your spine. You take a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves, and you hold her gaze, trying to be as calm and composed as possible.

"That’s bullshit," you say breathlessly, it almost comes out like a silent whisper, "Nothing happened. The flower pot he gave me was a leftover from the stock bought to decorate the pool."

You feel yourself getting more and more agitated as Mary continues to talk. You don't know why, but the idea that people are talking about you and Mr. Potter, saying that you're having affairs? Who says “having affairs”?! and even…you can't even bring yourself to finish her sentence in your head. If word gets out about this, that dream of getting fired might just come true.

At that you start getting dizzy, your heart is beating faster and faster, and you feel like you're about to pass out. Calm down. Take a deep breath. Everything is going to be okay. You tell yourself, trying to steady your shaking hands. In and out. In and out. You breathe in deeply, then let your breath out slowly, trying to calm yourself down. In and out. You don't even realize that you've started chanting those words to yourself, trying to ground yourself in the present moment.

"Mary, what are they saying?" you manage to say, your voice weak and hoarse. You know that they're talking about you, you can feel it. You can feel their eyes on you, their judgement weighing heavy on your shoulders. You’ve heard it once but you have to hear it again. It’s like your mind refuses to acknowledge this truth. You don’t want to believe this, you don’t even want to go anywhere near it, it’s like a nightmare. One you wish someone would wake you up from.

"What are they saying?" you repeat, this time a little louder, a little stronger. Mary squeezes your waist gently, as if to comfort you, and you hear her speak. "They're saying that you're having an affair with Mr. Potter," she says softly, as if it hurts even to say the words. 

So you heard it right.

You feel a cold chill run down your spine, and you're not sure if you can handle this. You're not sure if you can handle this. The shame, the embarrassment. W-what would your mother say if she heard about this? You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. "It's not true," you say this time louder. "I-I mean -They're lying!"

“I know.” She says softly into your ear.

You try to steady yourself, but the world is spinning around you and you feel as if you're going to collapse. Your vision is blurred, and you can barely see anything in front of you. You struggle to take a deep breath, but you feel as if you're suffocating. Mary’s voice rings out in your ears. You feel her arms wrap around you to help keep you standing.

And then, just as suddenly as it started, everything goes black, and you lose consciousness.

You blink your eyes open, and you feel a sense of disorientation as you try to adjust to your situation.

You lie in silence for a moment, drinking in your surroundings. You notice the large and well-appointed room. It was a beautiful room, with ornate wood paneling and large windows that overlooked a beautiful landscape.

The sun was low and shining through the windows, casting a warm and inviting glow onto the room. The bed is made with crisp white sheets, and the AC hums quietly in the background, cooling the air to just the right temperature.

You take a deep breath, feeling your shoulders relax for the first time in ages. You start to wonder where you are, how you got here, and most importantly: who brought you here? You sit up slowly, letting your eyes adjust to the soft lighting in the room as your brain tries to catch up to what's going on.

You're brought back to reality by the feel of a hand on your shoulder, and you jump, startled. You turn to find Olivia, standing next to you, her face a mixture of concern and relief. "You're awake!" she exclaims, and you smile, feeling a sense of warmth settling over you. “What happened?” You asked, clutching your head to try and prevent the brewing headache threatening to occur.

"Are you alright? Do you remember anything?" Olivia's voice was soft, her voice calming. She squeezed your shoulder. "You're awake, which is good. You've been unconscious for a little while, you passed out. Mary caught you before you hit the ground and Anders told us to move you here." She spoke with a comforting tone, her hand rubbing your shoulder reassuringly. “I should probably go and call for him.” She said, 

You blinked owlishly as Olivia quickly excused herself, her pace brisk as she left to go and call the butler. Just as she closed the door behind her, you heard a knock on the door, and you looked up to see Anders enter the room.

“Hey, um...where am I?” You asked, getting up and lying back on a bunch of huddled up pillows. "You're in one of the guestrooms," Anders replied. "Mr. Potter asked to relocate you here after he heard of your fall. I must say, it was quite disturbing to see you like that."

You felt a sense of embarrassment at the thought of fainting in front of everyone, "Thank you for uhm-..helping me," you said."It's no problem. We're just glad to have you back. Are you feeling better now?" he asked, the concern clear in his voice and unintentionally reminding you that everyone is still talking behind your back and your little fainting spell would be like trying to dow out a forest fire with gasoline.

“Just tired.” You responded, laying a hand on your forehead and closing your heavy eyelids; hyper aware of how soft the sheets are and the warmth of the duvet draped over you; a sense of peace settling in.

You hear a soft knock on the door, and you groan and yawn as you roll over to your side, stretching like a cat as you rub the sleep from your eyes. You couldn't help but feel the usual sense of tiredness as you slowly started to rise; your body feeling sluggish and tired. You looked at the clock and realized that you had slept again and this time for hours and it was already the evening. “Come in!” You say, eyes trained on the ticking clock as you jolt up.

In walks Mr. Potter, tray in hand and look of concern etched on his face. His eyes softened with a sheepish smile, "I've brought you some tea and toast—not much, I know, but it hopefully will help you feel better." He sets the tray down on the small table by the bed, his manner warm and comforting.

"Take a bite. It might lift your spirit," Mr. Potter suggests, his deep voice carrying a tone of genuine concern. He hands you the steaming mug, his eyes locked on yours, awaiting your answer. You take the mug less out of politeness and more out of fear.

"How are you feeling? Are you okay? Do you need me to call a doctor?" 

Your words come out weak and hoarse, but you manage to get the message across. "No, I just... I feel dizzy, and my head hurts," you say, closing your eyes, hoping for the room to stop spinning.

He rushes to your side, helping you sit up, before gently stroking your hair back from your forehead, "Can I get you anything? Some water, maybe?" You can't help but feel a warmth spread through your chest as his hand brushes the hair away from your face. His cologne is strong and masculine, filling your nostrils with an addictive and sophisticated aroma.

Oh my God, stop it! You chastise yourself.

You sit up a bit, taking a sip of the tea and nibbling on the toast. The toast is warm and buttery, and the tea is soothing and calm. The warm brew soothes your throat and warms your insides, bringing a sense of calmness that you desperately need. 

James smiles back, "I'm glad to hear that. Would you like anything else? Some fruit maybe, or some more tea? I just want to make sure you're comfortable." 

"I’m good," you say, smiling awkwardly. "Thank you."

"Are you sure everything is alright, darling?" he asked, his eyes locked on yours. You felt your heart skip a beat at the nickname and of what he was going to ask. "Sure, of course," you replied, trying to keep your voice steady. 

He raises a brow, unconvinced with your answer.

"Just some work-related stress." 

James's gaze was focused on you, his face a picture of concern. "Well, if you ever do need anything, I'm here for you," he assured you, his voice soft and comforting. 

“Thank you, Mr–”

“James...please. Call me James.”

"Thanks, James," you replied, a small smile crossing your face. "That ...means a lot." James smiled back, "Of course," he said. The sound of the ticking clock abruptly shattered the stillness of the room, causing you to gasp as you suddenly remembered the passing of time. "Shoot!" you exclaimed, frantically throwing the quilt aside and hastily placing the tea on the nearby tray. "I've got to go!" you added, your voice laced with urgency.

James stood up, bewildered by the sudden change in your behavior. “Why? Is something wrong?” he asked, worry clearly etched on his face. “It’s eleven! Why didn’t you wake me?” you exclaimed, eyes wide with shock as you began frantically running around the room. Scrambling to find your shoes, James watched with wide-eyed confusion, asking, “What’s going on? I’m so lost.”

"It's eleven! Everything is probably already closed now!" you said, desperation and panic evident in your voice as you searched for your shoes. Suddenly, you noticed that James was holding them, and you immediately let out a sigh of relief. "Oh, thank you so much." you said, taking them from him.

"Is Anders still here?" You asked as you hurriedly put your shoes on. The sound of your heartbeat pounding in your ears, drowning out the sound of James taking a nervous step forward. “Uhm no, he usually leaves at ten,” James replied, his voice barely above a whisper. You sigh in defeat and throw yourself back on the bed. “Can I ask why?” he continued, taking another step closer, his eyes searching your face as you covered it with your hands. “I was going to ask him if he could give me a ride,” you answered, your voice muffled.

"I told Anders you could stay for the night." James stated, a slight edge to his voice as he backed up a step. You bolted upright, eyes widened in horror. "No!" you cried, your words tumbling out in a panicked rush. "No, no, no, no! I can't stay here. The others, they..." Your words trailed off, the image of their judgmental frowns dancing behind your closed eyelids, threatening to send you spiraling into a coma before you could even finish the thought.

Despite your protests, James stood firm, "You're staying here," he insisted, his tone brooking no argument. Taken aback by the suddenness of the force of his tone, you froze, your mind racing as you tried to guess at his intentions.

With a heavy sigh, James continued, his voice softer now as he sat down on the edge of the bed. "Look, I understand that this isn't ideal. But I promise you, you're safe here.”

"I- I’m fine," you stutter out, your voice barely louder than a whisper at his words, at the sweetness of it at the concern stretched between his eyebrows. James' brows furrow in discontent as he takes in your words, and for a moment there is a tense silence between you. But he quickly recovers, and his expression becomes determined.

"Then at least let me drive you home."

You are struck dumb by these words, and you don't move for a moment as you try to process what is happening. But before you have a chance to respond, you have given James your arm and you watch as he leads you rapidly towards the door. He's not waiting for an answer, he's making a decision for both of you.

And less than five minutes later, you find yourself standing outside, feeling the cold air brush against your skin. The night is quiet, truly silent. You can’t even hear the sound of traffic with how far you are from the town. You look up at the sky and at the stars, how they’re sprinkled like splattered paint over a black canvas. The sound of an engine in the distance breaks your trance and you look down squinting your eyes at the bright light shining from the car’s headlights.

The sleek black car glides into the driveway, its exhaust leaving a faint smell of fuel in the air. You watch as James climbs out of the driver's seat and walks up to you. He has his hands placed under both your arms, steadying you as though he was afraid you would roll down the stairs without his support. You mentally scoff, you maybe a klutz but even you won’t embarrass yourself to that degree.

He walks you to the passenger side of the car and opens the door for you. Your gaze is pulled back to the car itself, and you can't help but marvel at its beauty - probably at the cost of your entire apartment building itself. James seems to notice your fascination, and he gives you a small smile.

“It’s cold.” He whispers and you snort as you bow your head, feeling a wave of warmth wash over you as you enter the car and close the door behind you. The car's interior is warm and comfortable, and you sink into the soft leather seats with a sigh of relief. James enters, sending you the most adorable welcoming of smiles, as he pulls away from the extravagant driveway. You watch the streetlights fly by through the window, getting a sense of disorientation as the world around you blurs.

"Are you ok?" James asks, breaking the silence. His voice is low and concerned, and you can hear the worry in his words. You ask that alot you want to say but opt for a nod instead, not trusting yourself to speak, and he reaches across the car to pat your leg reassuringly, giving you a gentle squeeze. It's a small gesture, but it makes you feel a little better. You sit in silence as James drives, the only noise coming from the hum of the engine and the occasional click of the turn signal. 

The tension between you is palpable, and you wonder what James is thinking. Is he as nervous as you are? Is he trying to work out what to say to you?

James seems to sense your unease, and he breaks the silence with a sudden question. "So... What really happened today?" he asks, his voice low and curious. STOP asking! You want to yell, but you can’t really do that when the man is driving you home. You take a deep breath, trying to gather your thoughts.

"I don't know," you reply, your voice wavered. "I found out about something and I just…" James nods at your silence, as if he understands. "I can understand that," he says, his eyes fixed on the road ahead. "Sometimes life can be a little overwhelming, can't it?" 

You watch him through the reflection on the window and nod, feeling a sense of thankfulness towards him for not pushing. "Yes, it can be. Sometimes it feels like everything is just a little too much."

"I know what you mean," James says softly. "But you need to remember you're not alone. That there’s someone there, y’know. And if you ever feel overwhelmed you can come to me." You pull your head away from the window and face James with parted lips. His eyes seemed to be just as shocked as you are as he stared at you. He quickly faces the road once more and pulls in a deep breath. 

“Thank you.” You say into the silence. It's a small comfort, but in that moment, it means the world to you.

Half an hour later, you find yourself pointing towards a building in the distance. The street is quiet and lifeless, with only a few distant lights to break the darkness as James parks the car in front of the tall building. You're not sure what to say, how to express the feelings that are swirling inside you. 

"Come on," he says, "Let's get you inside." You want to object but the warmth from the touch of his hands is addicting. It has you leaning on him as he leads you towards the building. “Do you want me to help you up?” He asks and you stare at him with furrowed brows, parted lips and eyes heavy with sleep. You nod and James doesn’t even hesitate to have his arms wrapped around you as he helps you up each step, patient and alert as he guides you up the stairs and carries your weight.

However, he seems awkward now that you're outside the door to your apartment, it’s silent, and there’s no other sound than the rattling of your keys as you turn them and unlock the lock. “Wait here.” You say, and James blinks for a moment in confusion, tilting his head to the side before nodding, watching as you walk in and leave him outside. He’s nervous and sweaty, and he reeks of anxiety as he bounces his leg, rehearsing what he’s trying to say. When your door opens once more, you’re in a robe and holding a small transparent box of what looks like doughnuts.

“A thank you.” You say and James involuntarily smiles at the gift, shaking his head. “Can’t take it,”

“Why not?” You ask and there is a dopey smile on your face as you lean against the door frame. “Don’t deserve it.” He says and you snort, rolling your eyes and you push the box between his hands. “If you don’t take it, you’re practically insulting me and I don't think you can be mean to someone who was sick.”

“You passed out, out of stress and not illness.” He says grinning and you feel butterflies fluttering or biting in your stomach as he leans a hand on the door, so that his face is much closer to yours. “Same thing. Take the doughnuts, Potter, and say ‘thank you’. It’s not that hard.” You respond, taking a step closer and matching his smile. 

James takes your hand and places a gentle kiss on the back of it, “Thank you.” He says and you immediately feel all hot and fluttery. It’s like you're wearing hundreds of layers of clothes on the hottest day of the year.

“You’re welcome.” You breathe out and even though the conversation is over, you both still stand there like birds on a traffic stop waiting for the other to say or do something.

For a moment, the silence is awkward, and you're not sure of what action to take. But then, James breaks it.

His voice is low and somewhat unsure, his previous confidence as solid as water as he stands tall once more; but he still speaks clearly and directly. You subconsciously stand straight as well, feeling as though this conversation was going to be serious.

"... I've been thinking about you a lot lately. I don't know why, but for some reason, I just am"

You listen intently, trying to process what he's saying. He leans down, placing the treats you gave him gently on the ground and You have no idea what's coming next, but then he surprises you by taking your hand in his. Your eyes grow wide and you can’t help but feel dumb and speechless as you stare at your joined hands. James looks at you, his expression serious and determined but there is a nervousness hiding behind his glasses. He takes a deep breath and then asks, "Would you go out with me?...On a date that is."

You're taken aback by the suddenness of the question, but you find yourself nodding slowly. "I'd like that." You can see the relief and happiness spread across James' face, and he gives you a warm smile. "I was hoping you'd say yes. You’re off on Tuesday’s, right? Can I pick you up from here at 6?" He asks and you nod again, feeling a sense of warmth and giddiness spread throughout your body. “That sounds great.” 

As James takes another step towards you, you start to feel a mixture of excitement and unease. You want to be close to him, you do, you really do, but you also feel like you're on the edge of a cliff, like one wrong move could send everything tumbling down. The looks of your colleagues flash in front of you, and you involuntarily take a step back.

James senses your apprehension, and he stops in his tracks. He looks at you with a mixture of concern and understanding, as if he knows exactly what you're feeling.

"Is something wrong?" he asks gently.

You try to gather your thoughts. "I don't know," you say, your voice a screen to your worries. "I just feel... I don't know. Like this is all too much and…too fast, like I may not be ready for this type of thing." You're suddenly aware of your rushed agreement to his proposal, and the butterflies that were once in your stomach turn to poisonous snakes.

James nods, "That's ok," he says quietly. "We don't have to rush into anything. We can take it slow, if that's what you want."

For a moment, there is silence between the two of you, filled with a mixture of uncertainty and possibility. And then, before you know it, James is closing the distance between you once again, his fingers brushing against yours, his face just inches away from yours. You think that he might kiss you and you're not sure of what you’re feeling but you’re sure of the desire, the craving for his touch but at the same time the logical part of you is yelling for you to pull away to warn you that this was going to burn you in the end.

It's a moment that feels like an eternity and a heartbeat all at once, and just when you think you can't possibly bear it any longer, James leans in and kisses your forehead. It's a soft, gentle kiss, filled with a mixture of hesitance and care, and for a moment, the stress you’ve been carrying the whole day seems to melt away.

As he draws apart, you feel a sense of relief and happiness wash over you, like drinking chilled water after you've just finished a marathon. 

“Feel better, okay?”

《PREVIOUS PART》 《NEXT PART》

Tagging: @sssstarstruck @cloudroomblog @ietss @kquil @heraklees @loving-and-dreaming @enamoredofbella @astonishment @empath-bunny @white-wolf-buckaroo @in-tuned @orinatini @mariahossain @mo0n-water

[sluttywoozi]

Give You My Wild | Like a Cowboy Pt. 3/4

Rating: M (18+) | WC: ~5.1k (there is no plot I’m so sorry)

Part One | Part Two

Warnings: HEAVY BREEDING AND IMPREG KINK, historical inaccuracy probably, crying (during sex and not), size kink, oral (f.rec.), fingering, big dick gyu, lowkey somnophilia?? (idk its more like pussy put his ass to sleep now he’s calling you nyquil), cockwarming, dreams of pregnant sex, they want to have a baby i cannot emphasize this enough, feels v romance novelly to me 

Reader Notes: hands are smaller than gyu’s, has vagina and breasts, called baby, honey, sweetheart, wife

Mingyu watches from the porch, fondness and just a bit of exasperation in his eyes, as you organize and pack up the wagon. You’re about to embark on your pre-freeze fishing trip and he tried to help, but you like the packing done a certain way. You arrange by what you’ll need to take out first, keeping the tent closest to the edge and sustenance for the way there closest to the front, where you’ll be able to lean back on the bench and take something should hunger arise. 

He’s itching to get going, partly because he wants to reach the river by nightfall, mostly because he’s already envisioning what he’ll be doing to you in the tent after you arrive. And on the riverbank, on top of a blanket and under the stars. Perhaps also in the back of the wagon on the way there. 

He’s got an excuse now, or maybe an explanation, for his voracious appetite for you. 

It happened when you were cooking together a few weeks ago, pork tenderloin with garden grown squash. You were dancing a little dance to the beat of his humming and taps with the knife as he cut the vegetables on the butcher block when you stilled, a strange look crossing your face and your hands nervously wringing your apron. 

Mingyu had been scared something was wrong, that he’d done something to upset you, and put down the knife immediately. He’d crossed the kitchen to you, his humming silenced with his heart caught in his throat like it was, and took you by the hand, tugging you to the dining table. He sat in the chair heavily and pulled you to sit across his lap, wrapping his arms tight around you and holding you secure until you gathered the courage to speak. 

“I think I want…” you take a deep breath, looking away from him with teary eyes before finding his gaze again and continuing, “I want us to have a baby, Gyu. I want us to have a family.”

The gasp he took in was followed by more, quick breaths nearly mistakable for sobs as he pressed his face into your shoulder and let the tears gather on his lashes. Mingyu had wanted this for so long, since you married him, really, but you hadn’t been ready. Of course, he didn’t push you, resolved not to bring it up until you did, and he really wasn’t prepared for how he’d feel now that you have. He was sure you could feel his heart was trying to pound its way out of his chest with how closely he held you to him, but you didn’t seem to mind. You just rested your head on top of his and let your own tears soak into his hair, gentle fingers grazing circles on his shoulders. 

Once all the tears dried up, the mood changed. 

It was like a switch flipped in him, realizing that the next time he made love to you, it would be with the purpose of filling you up with his baby. The herbs you took prevented it, but soon enough he’d get to watch your stomach grow and know that he’d been the one to make it happen. He’d get to rub your aches and pains away, fall asleep curled up around you with his hand pressed to your belly and tiny little kicks tapping against his palm, wait on you hand and foot once you got too big to easily navigate the house. All the things he’d been dreaming about, he would finally get to share with you.

He took you on the table that day, your legs caught in his elbows and his cock pounding into you, dishes clanking against the wood and flatware sliding off the edge with the force of his thrusts. After you climaxed and he emptied himself inside you, he’d knelt down and watched as your clenching walls pushed out his spend before gathering it all up on his fingers and pushing it back inside you, keeping you plugged up until your cunt stopped contracting around them and he was sure you’d be able to keep it inside. 

Mingyu’s gone wild for you in the days and weeks following, waking you in the night and sliding home once you sleepily part your legs, bending you over sinks and hoisting you up on counters, taking you against doors and walls, and once or twice, the railing of the front porch. 

Even now, as he watches you lift onto your tiptoes and bend into the wagon to rearrange the fishing poles, he’s thinking about pulling up your skirt, spreading you open, and fucking you full of his seed. And if he wasn’t so concerned it would make the coming journey more uncomfortable for you, he wouldn't even hesitate. 

The wagon bumps raggedly along the dirt road and Mingyu’s even more sure of his decision to hold off until you make it to the river. The idea was tempting but not worth causing you further discomfort, your sweet attempts to hide your winces unsuccessful. Wagons are not the most glamorous form of travel, but they’re the only option when one lives as far from the city as Mingyu and you do. 

There’s not much longer to go now, about an hour, and Mingyu is pleased to estimate about two hours of sunlight left, just enough time to arrive and set up camp. He has a lot of plans for this trip, all of which start and end with you, and he’s getting more and more excited to see them through. 

Mingyu heaves a sigh of exhaustion and sets his hands on his hips as he looks around your little section of the riverbank. The tent has been pitched, the smoker built, the food hung up and away, and he thinks there’s just enough time to watch the sun set on your naked skin. You’re on your hands and knees arranging the bedding underneath the canvas shelter and Mingyu makes his way over, rocks clacking against each other under his heavy steps, his boots landing harder as he nears you so he can ensure you’re not startled by his appearance. You sit back on your knees just as he approaches, turning around to beam at him and proudly present your hard work. 

The tent looks so cozy, duvet and pillows placed carefully and extra quilts stacked to the side for the inevitable drop in temperature.  Mingyu’s already looking forward to crawling in and pulling you close, wrapping you up in his arms and keeping you warm with the heat of his body. “Good work, darlin’. We’ll sleep well tonight but I’ll be sure to wear you out, just in case,” he flirts, knowing your cheeks must be heating and delighting in the way your eyes drop to the side, fondly taking in the bashful smile that graces your lips. 

You reach a hand up and Mingyu grasps it, pulling you to your feet and into his body, trying not to giggle at the way you stumble into him with a gasp. He forgets his own strength sometimes but this isn’t one of them, no, it's intentional, all part of his plan to have his wicked way with you. You love how strong he is, how big he is, and he takes advantage of it, riling you up with seemingly innocent acts until you’re as hot for him as he always is for you. It works, of course, your eyes shuttering as a haze overtakes them, your fingers holding onto his for dear life and your other hand rising to rest on his chest. 

Mingyu knows he should seduce you a bit more, that you deserve more wooing, but he’s wanted you all day and you’re just so soft and warm against him that he can’t help but lean down and press his lips to yours. You melt into him with a sigh, your mouth opening as soon as he brushes his tongue over your bottom lip. He does take his time kissing you, something he believes is always worth doing, wrapping one arm around your waist and pulling his hand from yours to rest his palm on the curve of your neck, his thumb tracing over your pulse. It jumps when he moans into your mouth and he grins against your lips, your physical reaction to him as captivating as always. 

He follows when you start backing up toward the tent, his hands leaving your body to clumsily pull at the buttons of your dress, his lips forming a pout against yours when you push them away and undo the buttons yourself. “I don’t want you to rip them,” you mutter, your dress hanging open and your hands moving to unbutton his shirt.

“Baby, I would never,” Mingyu protests, hoping you won’t remember-

“Gyu, I’ve had to sew buttons back onto three different things just this week. Don’t even try it,” you hiss, shrugging your dress down your arms. 

Your breasts shift with your movement and suddenly, Mingyu can’t focus on anything else. His hands still at his belt and his gaze grows heavy as you shove the dress off, each inch of skin revealed making his heart beat faster and faster. Every time he sees you bare, it feels like the first. Like sunlight breaking through gloomy storm clouds, like a steaming hot bath after a long days’ work, like the first bloom of spring after a blistering winter. You’re pure warmth to him, everything good and kind and beautiful in this world, and Mingyu will never get over the fact that you chose him to share your life with. 

He wants to thank you, wants to get down on his knees and worship at your altar, so he does. He tugs your shift off with impatient hands, takes you by the waist, spreads you out on the bedding you’d so meticulously laid, and shoulders his way between your thighs. The gasp you let out lifts one side of his mouth in a satisfied smirk, but the expression falls when he sees the wet mess of your cunt. His groan is guttural, pained almost, and he wastes no time before diving into you. He’s relentless, his tongue dipping inside you for a taste before sliding up through your folds to tap at your clit, the moans and whimpers escaping you muffled by your thighs as they clamp around his head. 

Mingyu loves it, loves being buried in you, surrounded by you, can’t get enough, will never get enough of you. He knows this well, revels in it, basks in the knowledge that he doesn’t need to get enough of you because he’ll always have you. You will always be his and he will always be yours, the matching rings on your left fourth fingers and the baby he’ll put in your belly evidence. 

You’re close already, your clit pulsing under his tongue and your hips jerking into his face, but he knows you like something to squeeze so he sinks three fingers deep inside, your pussy sucking them in immediately like you’ve been itching for them. He wants, needs to feel you cum, needs to make you cum, his fingers curling in you to find that ridged spot that makes you leak like a broken faucet. By now, it’s easy to pinpoint, easy to rub just right, with just enough pressure to make you squirm as he fingers you open. 

He’s obsessed with your sounds, or what he can hear of them through your thighs. Your moans and whimpers and sighs might as well be music to his ears, and the noises that come from your cunt whenever he hooks his fingers or thrusts them in and out practically make him feral. You’re just so wet, goddamn drenched every single time he touches you, and it’s enough to send his head spinning, especially when he’s already got the taste of you in his mouth. He’s cum like this before, and he will again, but not today. 

No, today, you’re going to cum on his tongue and his fingers, then again (and maybe once more) on his cock before he fills you up with his load. He wouldn’t be shocked if you were already with child with how much he’s been giving you lately, but he plans on fucking you full until you tell him to stop, just for good measure. 

Your pussy starts its tell-tale quivering, your walls undulating around his fingers and your clit throbbing under his tongue, and he knows you’re right there, knows all you need is his lips around you and a good grind deep inside, so he gives it to you. He purses his lips around you and digs his fingertips into your sweet spot, his deep voice mirroring the moan you let out when you tip over the edge. He keeps groaning into you, whining when he feels you clench so tight he can’t move his fingers. He’s not sure how your wetness is seeping out with how you’re locked around him but he knows he wants to taste it, drink it down, savor it, because your cunt is the best meal he’s ever had and the only one he’ll ever want. 

He’s still sucking your clit, so enraptured by your taste that he doesn’t notice you trying to wriggle away in sensitivity until you push him from you by the forehead. He apologizes swiftly, shifting up to plant a wet kiss on your lips before checking in with you. 

“You alright, sweetheart? You still want my cock?” Mingyu asks quietly, unwilling to disturb the bubble you’re floating in right now. 

“Good, Gyu, I’m good. Want your cock, want you to fill me up,” you gasp, your voice weak but your hands strong in their grip on him. 

“I’ll fill you up, baby, you know I will,” he breathes into your mouth as his lips press against yours once more before he pulls away. His feet had been outside the tent the whole time, a fact that makes him chuckle to himself while he unlaces and toes his boots off.

After clumsily unfastening his belt and shucking his pants, he drops to his knees and yanks off his shirt, the buttons undone by your fingers what feels like eons ago. The temperature is already dropping with the setting sun so Mingyu stretches out and covers your body with his, knowing his own furnace-like body heat will keep you warm. He also just loves feeling you under him, how soft and warm you are, how much smaller than him. He knows you love it too so he lets some of his weight rest on you as he takes you behind the knees and pushes your thighs up to your chest. This is one of his favorite ways to make love to you, he can get so deep and you get so tight, especially when he climbs on top of you and thrusts down with the weight of his body behind him. You love that, so it’s exactly what he’ll give you tonight.

He lets his cock glide through your folds until it glistens with your wetness, until you’re whining beneath him and trying to buck your hips up to get him inside. He won’t tease you further than this, but he can’t help making you wait for it, just for a little. He likes how it makes you as desperate as he always feels when it comes to you, how you whimper and beg and shake, how you dig your nails into his skin in retribution, and oh, the threats…

“Mingyu, if you don’t get in me right now, I swear I’ll-” Your warning is cut off by a sharp gasp as he splits you open on his cock, your cunt still tight around him even after he was just three fingers deep. The heat that swallows him is intoxicating, incandescent, and the moan you grant him with spurs a thrust that sends him even deeper inside, down to the root of his cock. He waits for your walls to stop fluttering around him, waits for your fingers in his hair and your voice in his ear, telling him, “Please, Gyu, please, fill me up.”

Your words are like a trigger, his hips bucking into you without his permission. He manages to angle them up at the last second, make it count, and the sound you let out has him thrusting into you again. You’re so reactive, so receptive to everything he gives you, and it’s enough to get him close much too quickly. 

He doesn’t know how long he’ll be able to hold it off, was far too ambitious in thinking he could outlast you cumming around him after making you cum on his fingers and tongue, so he works a hand between your bodies and finds your clit with a work-calloused thumb. You’re so wet, he can glide circles over your swollen nerves with no friction, fuck his cock in and out with sounds so obscene, a blush rises to his cheeks. You’re making the prettiest sounds, your mouth stuck open with pleasure and your eyes squeezed shut, tears gathering on your lash line and threatening to drip down your cheeks. He’ll never not be infatuated with how you respond to him, never not love every noise that leaves your lips and every expression that crosses your face, never not adore getting to be with you in this way, to take care of you in this way. 

Mingyu is the luckiest man on earth, the most blessed person of all time, to have you. The knowledge makes his heart feel too big for his chest, brings grateful tears to his eyes, makes him fuck into you just a bit harder, just a bit faster. 

He’s getting so close and he can feel that you are too, in the clenching of your walls and the way your thigh shakes under his hand, and he knows that all you need is a bit of encouragement. 

“Fit me so perfectly, honey, gonna let me fill you up? Gonna let me give you my baby?” His own words make his cock twitch and he can feel himself get harder inside you, bigger, and fuck, if you don’t break soon, he just might. 

“Yes, yes, yes, Gyu, want it so bad!” You throw your head back, one hand twisted up in the pillow and the other covering his on your thigh. Your fingers squeeze his and he’s quick to intertwine them, the difference in size shocking as always. 

The circles on your clit stop, but before you can complain he’s gently pinching it between two of his knuckles and fucking into you harder, his hips tilted so the spongy head of his cock can pound right into that bumpy patch inside of you. 

“Please, sweetheart, please,” Mingyu begs you to cum, begs you to fall off the edge before he does, and you listen. 

You listen, thank goodness, your sweet, hot cunt clamping down on his cock and sucking him in deeper as your walls try to milk him dry. It works, his balls seizing up and his dick jumping inside you, his seed flooding into your womb. His legs fold under your ass as he drops down to hover above you, bending you in half and leaning in for a kiss. You can’t kiss him back, panting as you are, but he doesn’t mind, pecking all over your face and down your neck. His teeth close on your collarbone just as his cock shoots one last rope of cum into you, making you whimper and arch your back for more. 

He’s discovered you like when he fucks you until he’s soft, so he draws his hips back and slides them forward again, his cum smoothing his movements even further. He’s glad you packed extra blankets because this duvet cover will need to be washed after he’s finished making a mess of you. His cheeks flame again as the slick squelch reaches his ears, the sound growing louder as you grow wetter. He keeps rutting into you, his softening dick drawing one last release from you before he finally pulls out. 

He covers your cunt with his hand before any more of his cum can drip out, shifting to lay on his elbows between your legs so he can see clearly as he gathers it all up on his fingers and pushes it back inside you. You look so well fucked, your eyes closed and your face slack in exhausted ecstasy, your cunt glossy and spread open. He would fuck you again if he had it in him, make you cum with his tongue if he didn’t want to keep his seed buried deep in you. Instead, he leaves his fingers inside and rises back up, sliding his arm beneath your back and pulling you into his chest. 

He thinks you may be sleeping, but he really should get you and the tent cleaned up, so he slowly withdraws his fingers and takes your hand, guiding it down between your legs. You know what to do, covering your entrance with your fingers and squeezing your legs closed as he pulls you into a sitting position and dampens a cloth with water from the jug you’d brought. 

He cleans you up gently, thoughtfully, smoothing the rag over your limbs and being especially careful with your inner thighs, where you’re sure to bruise from the force of his hips, before lightly running it between your legs. Mingyu loves this part too, having the privilege of caring for you in such a vulnerable state. It always feels sacred, as if he’s carrying out one of the most important of his husbandly duties, putting to action the vows he made years ago. To have and to hold. He’s had you, and now he gets to hold you. 

The washing of the duvet can wait until later, he just shoves it into a corner and takes hold of another, pulling it over you after carefully dressing you in your shift. Once you’re comfortable and warm, he sets about tidying himself, wetting a new rag and first cleaning your fingers before cleaning his own and the rest of his body. If this were home, he wouldn’t dress at all, but out in the wilderness, it’s simply unsafe to remain nude, so he pulls on his underclothes and pants. 

They feel itchy on his sensitive skin, on his spent cock, but it was all worth it. And it’ll be worth it tomorrow morning and afternoon too. 

Mingyu jerks awake, your finger poking his chest and your voice soft against the rushing of the water and the sounds of nature. It’s still dark, likely midway through the night, and as soon as he sets eyes on you, he can tell why you woke him. You look dewy with sweat, your eyes hazy and warm and your skin even warmer. 

“Need me?” He rumbles lowly, waiting for you to nod and reach for his pants before undoing them himself and helping you climb atop him. He can barely open his eyes, he’s still so tired, but with just a few grinds of your wet center on his cock he’s hard enough to fuck you. He only gets harder when you sit down on his dick, your cunt open enough from earlier that you don’t need any prep. You’re snug around him, still sticky inside with his cum, and his exhaustion only adds to his euphoria. 

He’s lost in a dreamlike state as you fuck him, his head lolling back on the pillow and his hips mindlessly bucking into yours each time you drop yourself down on him. He’s too gone to wish he could help more, too drunk on your warmth to think about anything but staying inside you for the rest of forever. His head spins, his fingers clenching in the blankets as you clench around his cock, but when you tighten on him with a sharp gasp, he forces his eyes open. 

You’re touching yourself. 

Fuck. Fuck, you’re touching yourself, your hand buried between your legs and your little fingers bumping against the base of his dick as you rub sloppy circles your clit. You’re not even looking at him, your eyes are closed and your head is tilted back, and he can just barely see the glint of your wedding ring in the moonlight that soaks through the canvas of the tent. You’re so beautiful, his perfect wife, who woke him just because she needed him, because she needed to use him. 

Mingyu didn’t know he would, but he fucking loves it. Loves being used by you, needed by you, and he should have known. It’s so obvious he could laugh if he wasn’t so busy moaning, his voice caught in a breathless loop of groans and whimpers of your name, pleads slipping out as your cunt swallows his cock over and over again. He’s getting so close, doesn’t even know what he needs to fall over the edge, but as always, you do, even subconsciously and, perhaps, selfishly. 

What he needs is for you to cum, and when you do fall apart around him, he’s quick to follow, nearly whining your name as his sensitive cock twitches and fills you with cum again. His eyes fall shut, his lungs burning as he pants as if he did any of the work, and when you snuggle into his chest, he does his best to wrap his listless arms around you. 

“Can I stay?” He breathes into your hair, waiting for you to nod and kiss his pec before almost immediately falling back asleep, his snores filling the air and his cock filling you. 

This time, Mingyu wakes you. 

He had the most wonderful dream; you were riding him again but this time, your belly was bigger, and your breasts were too. You were with child, his child, and it felt like the realization of everything he’s ever wanted. You, growing a miraculous little being that would hopefully look more like you, and him, holding you up and holding you close. 

And when he blinked awake, you were on top of him and his arms were wrapped around you, and if he didn’t feel that your belly was the same against his own, he almost could have pretended his dream was real. What was real was his cock, and how hard it was inside of you. 

He didn’t want to fuck you without asking first, so he set a hand on your hip and squeezed gently, murmuring your name until you stirred. 

Now, here he has you, both hands on your hips, holding you up and fucking into you just like in his dream. Soon, the rest of it will be real too, and he’s already nearing the edge just thinking about it. 

You’re so sensitive, he knows this will have to be the last time for at least half the day, so he makes it count, bringing a thumb to your tender clit and whispering all of the details into your neck in between kisses and bites. 

It’s not long until you’re shaking apart on top of him, quietly whining into his chest and digging your nails into his shoulders. It’s reflex by now, to cum when you do, and he can’t stop the wave of pleasure that overcomes him any more than he can stop the deep groan the spills from his lips as he fills you for the last time. He exhales thank you’s into your hair, petting at the parts of your hips that he gripped too tightly and rubbing his hands up and down your back to soothe you as you hiccup against him, your tears soaking into his skin. 

“What’s wrong, baby?” Mingyu asks, his concern clear. 

“I want it to be real so bad and I love you so much, that’s all,” you sniffle, your tears drying surprisingly quickly and your hands rising to wipe your face before he can. You smile brightly at him, then point over his shoulder, “Look, we literally made love till the morning light.”

Mingyu twists his head around, chuckling as he sees what you’re referring to. The colors of the sunrise seep into the cream canvas of the tent, giving your white shift and the blankets a dreamy glow. Love fills his chest and he can’t resist the urge to pull you down into a kiss, his lips soft against yours. 

His cock is softening too, and this time he can’t stay inside. He wraps his arms around your back and slowly rolls over so he’s above you before carefully pulling out. He doesn’t bother plugging you up, knows he’s filled you more than enough tonight, and dampens one more cloth to cleanse your skin of the evidence of the past few hours so you can enter the day brand new. 

“I love you,” Mingyu reminds you, discarding the cloth in the same corner as the old duvet and meeting your eyes once more. 

“I love you,” you respond, reaching your arms out to him and tugging him down into a hug. 

“I’ve gotta get to fishing and the laundry,” he breathes into your neck, “But you should rest.”

He grins as you pout but acquiesce, loosening your hold on his shoulders and playfully feeling up his bicep before letting him go altogether and snuggling back into the fresh blankets he’d covered you with. 

“Wear your hat,” you caution him sweetly, not wanting his eyes to get too tired with the light or for his skin to get sunburned. 

“‘Course, darlin’,” Mingyu beams, pulling on his clothes and lacing up his boots before leaning down for one last kiss. He ducks out of the tent, his height making this difficult, and pokes an arm back in, feeling around blindly for the hat, which somehow makes its way into his hand. 

Mingyu grins a little grin, feeling his canines press into his kiss-swollen bottom lip, and puts it on his head, his boots quiet as can be on the riverbank as he sets up his fishing gear. 

His wife needs some sleep, after all. 

AN: okayyyy i wanted to wait to post this until the anniversary of the first part but i figured i’ve taken long enough already! if you enjoy, pls reblog or comment with your thoughts and feelings!

JK ABOUT 3/3 ITS 3/4 HERES PART 4

My Masterlist

[writingjourney]

I DONT REMEMBER IF I SUBMITTED THIS ALREADY BUT LIKE-

Copia cuddles!!! I need them!!! I need to smoosh my face into his silly chest I need to wrap my arms around him and nap!!!!

I'm sorry I took so long to reply. You're so right anon, I know for sure that this would fix me. I need to shove my face into his tiddies and sleep for a whole day 😭

// anyway, here's a short blurb, content: just under 500 words, gn!reader, napping in his office after he (literally) caught you falling asleep at his desk ♡

He tries to keep his hand as steady as possible. Your head weighs heavy on his wrist but this is still better than if it met the hard walnut tabletop in front of you. Copia barely caught it, your drooping face, and he’d reached out before he could think too much about it. Now he sits at the most awkward angle, bent into your direction with his gloved hand floating in midair between your cheek and his desk. 

You’re drooling into his palm, neck bent in a way that promises a painful cramp any minute now. A decision has to be made if he wants to use his hand again. He could finish his reading with you napping on him – his desk chair is spacious enough – but he has to get you into a safe position in his lap first. 

When he starts pulling his hand in the direction of his chest, you snore into the quiet of his office and he startles so violently that he almost drops your head. It’s quite impressive how deeply you have fallen asleep within such a short time frame but then again he knows you’ve been working harder than is healthy, short nights and long days sacrificed to the very translation he is reading for approval right now. And you did such a good job with it.

Copia hooks his other arm around your waist, securing you with his hand safely spread over your belly. Then he pulls, trying to drag you over, and for a moment he thinks his spine might snap. This is not the angle he should lift you in but his choices are limited. With a deep inhale he heaves you into his lap, exerting all the strength he can conjure into his lanky arms. He huffs out the deep breath he took once you settle, falling slack against his upper body. If this won’t convince you to finally get some rest and take a break then it will be a Papal order next.

A sigh tickles his neck then and for a moment he thinks you wake. But instead you burrow deep into his chest, nuzzling for a moment before you release another snore. The angle is still awkward and he pulls you upwards until your cheek rests safely atop his shoulder. Your legs are swung over his and he repositions you until you’re secure within the confines of his desk chair, feet dangling over the armrest. 

Only when Copia feels your even exhales tickling his neck does he pick up the translation again. But as he tries to regain his focus, his gaze is weary and he can’t quite read the words. Your sleepiness seems catching and with your soft body atop his like the world’s most precious weighted blanket, he finds it easy to give into temptation. Perhaps he can rest his eyes for a moment as well, just a few minutes.

BTW if you like this sort of fluffy thing, you should check out @ramblingoak ‘s little nap series here and here for similar nappy vibes :) ♡

[mouschiwrites]

FNAF Security Breach - Catching Their Eye

Freddy

He spotted you within the first few minutes of your working there

He keeps close tabs on the staff, so naturally he noticed a new face in the employee uniform

He introduced himself right away, but that wasn’t anything special; he does that for every new employee

What really makes him notice you is your brightness

Whether you’re interacting with guests or mopping the floor with your earbuds in, he’ll find the tiniest traces of happiness in you, and that’s what makes him interested

Even if you're not a typically "happy" person, he'll still find it

He’s so used to tired workers just trying to make it to the next paycheck, so seeing you with that light inside (even if it’s buried deep) enchants him

He finds himself staring, completely captivated

Your smile is the most precious thing in the world to him

He sees tens—even hundreds—of smiles every day, but yours is special somehow

He admires from afar, usually too busy to talk to you

But whenever he gets a free moment, you best believe he’s going to talk to you

Unfortunately he doesn’t know what to say though

So he just goes with the only thing that’s been on his mind:

“Hello, Y/n! Has anyone ever told you that you have the loveliest smile?”

“O-oh..! Uh… no?”

He scrambles to apologize for making you uncomfortable, but your laughter cuts him off

Your laugh. Mercy—if he wasn’t hooked before, he certainly was now

It’s then that he makes a personal goal to make you laugh every day

Gives him an excuse to be around you, at least

Roxanne

She did not know who you were

Like, at all

To her, everyone in the employee garb looks the same

It doesn't matter how long you've been working there; you could've been working for months, and your face would still be completely unfamiliar to her

So, when she sees you after hours in Roxy Raceway, she doesn't take much note of your presence

But you certainly take notice of hers

She catches you stealing glances, which makes her nervous

Naturally she jumps into defensive mode

"You got a staring problem?"

"No! I'm sorry. It's just... well, you're so much cooler up close."

That catches her off guard

She usually inwardly doubts people when they compliment her, but your tone is so genuine that there's no room for her insecurities

From then on, she's able to discern you from the other employees

If she can, she tries to get your help when she needs it

She trusts you more than the other employees, all because you were so genuine in your first interaction

Out of all the eyes that gaze adoringly at her all day, only yours matter to her

When she spots you looking at her, she gets a boost of confidence—real confidence

You're her little magic charm, and she makes sure to return the favor

She'll never give any hints that you make her feel like this, but she'll treat you better than every other employee

Which basically only means that she knows your name and she doesn't snap at you, but with her, that's pretty big

Chica

Much like Freddy, Chica likes to keep tabs on employees

She's not quite as good at it, though

She'll frequently mix up names and introduce herself to people she's already introduced herself to, but hey, she's trying her best

What makes her remember you though is your name (at first, anyway)

"Hello!! Welcome to the team!! My name is Chica, if you didn't already know."

"Hi, I'm Y/n."

"Y/n? Y/n... I love that name!! Y/n!"

From that moment on, she always greets you by name

She loves saying your name—it's a very melodic sound to her

She even starts saying it to herself when she's bored

That's the first sign of you infesting her mind

She realizes that she doesn't just love your name; your personality is also very likable

She finds herself craving more of you, wanting to find more things to like

And even to dislike; she just wants more of you in general honestly

Okay so maybe she's a little obsessed

Whenever you're working near her, she makes an effort to interact with you

She won't go out of her way to ensure that you interact often though; she'll just treasure the moments she's been given

And she isn't really the type to watch from afar, either

If she can't interact with you, she doesn't want to look at you; the longing will get to her

That doesn't mean she doesn't think about you all the time, though

Because she totally does

Monty

He doesn't really make an effort to remember many faces

Just the ones he knows he doesn't like

This is especially true with employees; he never forgets a face he hates, and he always makes sure to let them know how he feels

This has led to many employees being banned from working around Monty, either by their request or for their own safety

It's a strange feeling for him to take note of someone positively

Or at least not negatively

He's struck at first by your appearance, but he reminds himself that you might be a total nuisance

He watches you from afar, trying to confirm his pessimism

He's very surprised to find your personality tolerable

When he ventures to actually interact with you for the first time, he's even more surprised to find that you don't change your personality around him

"Hi there. You're Monty, right? I'm Y/n. I'm new here."

"Yeah, I know. So when're you comin' down to work Gator Golf?"

Needless to say, he got a little ahead of himself

He's just excited to find an employee that he actually likes

Management is also excited to discover this; and in no time at all you're almost always stationed in Gator Golf

Monty takes advantage of this in full

Whenever he gets a free moment he's by your side, telling you a joke or a funny story

You guys are fast friends

This only amplifies his positive bias regarding you

And his negative bias towards other employees; he gets even more agitated than before when an employee he doesn't like works in his domain

I watched the fnaf movie and I've fallen back into a fnaf stupor,,, I hope you enjoy my babbling <33 Thanks for reading lovelies :)

(divider by saradika)

[0kayblue]

Need You

Need You 

You and Leon have been a little more than friends with benefits for awhile and he struggles with what he wants it to be. 

Word count: 3k (almost 4) 

Mentions of alcohol, slightly possessive Leon, over protective Leon, angst, fluff (??kinda??), happy ending, not proofread very well if it all.

A/N: HELLO!! How are you all doing? Good I hope. I’ve been gone for more than a hot minute. It took me a lot longer than what I thought it would to get back into the groove of things. With that being said, this is not that great. Kinda boring, but hey, sometimes things are boring. This is just kind of to get me in the groove of uploading and writing again. 

Part three and request are in the works. They are coming!! I just need a little practice before I start actually going at it again. 

With all my heart, I hope you are having a fantastic day!! Enjoy!! 

Time had never moved so slow as Leon anxiously bounced his leg underneath the cheap break room table. His tired eyes glanced to the clock and then back down to the untouched styrofoam cup of coffee. 

Leon hated a lot of things about his job, but at this moment debriefing was his least favorite. He detested having to explain everything that happened on missions before he officially had time to process how they happened to him. Not that he ever truly enjoyed thinking about the things he had to do in order to survive, but he liked to have an understanding on why he did this or that. Why he chose to go left instead of right. 

He had just spent nearly three days fighting his way through the deep Rocky Mountains; B.O.W’s at every turn, and he didn’t even get the information he was expected to return with. The whole thing was a waste of his damn time. He was sent to follow a lead that only set the operation two steps back and whatever up and coming supervillain, or want to be Umbrella Corporation, or extremist cult one leap forward. All while defense was wounded and information scrounged for a thread to pull to loosen the seam on the shit show they were currently trying to clean up. 

He was annoyed and beyond frustrated with everything. On top of the emotional stress he also was not in the best shape physically- it wasn’t anything major all things considered- but, broken ribs, internal bruising and external bruising causing almost his whole torso to be a  deep purple almost gray hue, and the bandaged up gashes on his limbs and slight cuts on his face only kept adding straws to the camel's back. He felt like it was only a matter of time before he snapped, he felt like he could only sit here for a few seconds more before he stormed out the door and out of this damn stale sterile building that was too clean. 

He took a deep breath before adjusting himself to sit up straight in the deep blue plastic chair. As he exhaled he closed his eyes and saw the face he’s seen behind his eyelids since he landed, desperate to see it in person. To touch the soft warm flesh of someone he could never get enough of, regardless of the fact that he tried so hard not to get addicted to. Each hit of you more potent than the last, each high allowing him to forget for a little longer, each graze of his skin against yours permitting him to daydream of a life he has always ached for. Even if you didn’t long for the same things he did, he saw you with everything he had ever wanted. It was cruel and yet he continued to do it to himself. 

He had bought you a burner phone with his number and his alone. You were not to use the phone for anything other than to communicate with him. He had asked you to carry it with you at all times, lying and saying he didn’t bug it. He told you that with his line of work that it would make your meetings more secure, that it would keep you off the radar. In a lapse of poor judgment you took the phone and him up on his proposal to make him an official fuck buddy. Who could blame you? It was a scene  straight out of a movie and boosted your ego. It made you feel special that someone so important took such an interest in someone like you. Someone who lived such an exhaustingly normal life. It kept you on cloud nine for at least a week and a half after receiving it. 

It was a purely physical relationship that didn’t require any emotional attachment regardless of the deep emotions that sunk into the both of you too quickly for comfort. Each rendezvous lasted longer than the previous one. Him staying at your place for days, while you both interacted like domesticated adults. Not quite like a married couple, not as casual as friends, and nowhere near as uptight as roommates; it was such an odd relationship, but it wasn’t  uncomfortable. Oftentimes by the end of his stay he left you with more questions than answers. Your knowledge of his life was barley skin deep and you were left to piece it together from fragments he dropped you. 

He on the other hand knew everything about you. He couldn’t help himself. All your information was at his fingertips; your past, your present, and a vague idea of your future. In hindsight he should have left it alone and maybe if he did he wouldn’t be stuck in this current predicament. Maybe wouldn’t be digging in his pocket for the phone that held only one contact number, a phone number that he had memorized even though he shouldn’t have. He leaned forward in the chair as he typed only two words. 

‘Need you.’

He didn’t think about the impact they could have, he didn’t think of the weight they carried, he just sent the message. Not a part of him even considering the fact that you would think it was the truth. He needed you. Rather you are below him or watching some low brow television show that networks pumped out to dumb down the population. He just needed you within reach, he needed the comfort of your presence to ease the buzzing of the world he lived in. 

He sat the phone on the table as he crossed his arms and sat back, anxiously awaiting a reply. He didn’t get a chance to glance at the clock before the phone buzzed against the table. 

‘Busy.’ 

The message read and he couldn’t help but to scoff as his hand ran through freshly washed damp hair. 

‘With what?’ 

He asked in his reply as he sent it. His jaw tightening in annoyed agitation. What part of need did you not understand? He took a deep breath and reminded himself of the nature of the relationship. As he went to follow up his demanding question with a meeting time and place the break room door opened and he shoved the phone back into his pocket. 

“Mr.Kennedy,” A rather thin man with tired eyes and a disheveled navy blue suit sighed out, “I’m sorry, we know you are exhausted, we just have a few more questions. Can you stay for another thirty minutes? No more, no less.”  

Leon forced a polite smile as he stood, “Lead the way.” 

“Thank you so much, Mr. Kennedy.” 

“Please, call me Leon.” Leon insisted as he took the door from the man and just like that he followed the man down the hall and into an elevator; leaving behind a hot cup of coffee to grow cold on a cheap linoleum covered piece of wood where it would eventually be washed down the drain by night janitorial staff. 

It had been an hour since Leon set foot in that room and not much of anything had come out of his answers. He was out of the building now and almost free as his hand found the handle of his car door, but a buzz in his pants pocket caused him to let go of it immediately. As he unlocked the phone he noticed he was left with a voice memo and not a message, which he found odd but not alarming. He couldn’t help but to smile, ready to hear your voice. He pressed play and heard the hustling of feet and an unrecognizable song in the background. 

“She said she was busy, Le-on. Take a hint.” 

A low masculine voice came out of the speaker as he gripped the phone. He pulled it away from his ear with a snarl as he looked at the phone screen. It took every fiber of his being to not shatter the phone right there; it took every remaining ounce of sanity that he had to not let this red hot anger consume him. This little voice in his head pleaded for him to think rationally. 

He opened the car door and slammed it shut behind him as he got in, it was a miracle the car door window didn’t break from the force. He was quick to pull up your location and an airy laugh left him as he knew the location too well. A dive bar on the outskirts of the city, the same exact bar he had found you in. It was tragically comical. 

He didn’t bother with a seat belt as he backed out of his parking spot and hit the gas and drove off after you. The speed limit was a mere suggestion as city lights passed him just as quickly as they appeared. He was livid as his knuckles turned white as he gripped the steering wheel. He was angry. He was angry that you had the audacity to be out with someone at the bar that he met you at. He was furious that you were busy with some asshole who had the nerve to address him by his first name. He was livid that he didn’t just leave work and go to you as soon as he landed. He was heartbroken because even though he was lost in this haze of consuming rage he had no right to feel this way. You weren’t his, but he was yours. 

As Leon quickly pulled into the parking lot he parked his car with no regard to the faded white lines that were supposed to indicate parking spots. He left the car running as he slammed the car door shut, making a bigger scene than the screeching sound his tires made against the asphalt when he parked. He could feel the eyes of smokers burning a hole in his frame as he took quick strides to the front doors of the bar. 

“Nice ride-.” A voice started but was cut off by the beep of Leon locking the car. Normally Leon would nod politely, but he didn’t bother to spare a glance to whoever made the comment. His brows furrowed and a glare that could kill adorning his face as he stepped into the warm bar. 

“Hey!” Zack yelled, the bartender was shouting as Leon watched him scurry from behind the bar and over to a crowded table. Men and some women of varying ages were crowded around the table cheering. “Give that back! How did you even-?” Zack tried to reason as some guy held him back from the table. Leon proceeded with some caution as he approached Zack. 

“Let it go, buddy. He’ll give it right back and pay for the shots as soon as he’s done.” A stranger said as he tried to keep Zack back. “He’ll even pay extra if this chick handles her liquor the way she says she can.”

That got Leon’s attention faster as he pushed his way closer to the front of the table. His eyes locked on your frame laying on the tabletop with your head leaning off the end as another guy poured vodka down your throat. 

“Yeah! That’s what I’m talking about!” The man screamed before putting the bottle to his mouth and taking a shot straight from the bottle.

Your laugh rang through the bar as you began to try and sit up, but the man was quicker than you were as he bent down to meet you, his arm wrapping around your shoulders to keep you in place. His lips graze yours as he spit his shot into your mouth. Your throat burning as you tried to push him off of you. For a second you thought your weak  effort was successful as his lips left yours, but when you gained some composure you heard the shattering of glass and saw people back away quickly from the table. 

“Get the fuck off of her!” A voice yelled, that voice, you knew that voice all too well. You sat up as your eyes found Leon’s frame. His shoulders tense as they fell up and down with his labored breathing. His fist clenched and jaw tightened as he threatened in a deep low growl, “Touch her again and I’ll break your fucking spine.” He was in no condition to fight, he was barely standing. He was utterly exhausted and his limbs ached, but the angry adrenaline that coursed through his veins kept him upright.

“Leon.” You dryly got out as you sat up on the table. You repeated his name but he didn’t even glance in your direction. 

“Leon? Jesus Christ. Look, she already-.” The man spoke and Leon recognized the voice immediately from the voice message. Leon’s eyes darkened with rage as he looked at this pathetic excuse of a man. 

Busy. 

“Where is her phone?” Leon asked as he roughly grabbed the man by his shirt collar, “Where is her damn phone?” 

“Here, here! Take it!” The man shook as he pulled the phone out of his pocket and handed it to Leon. Leon snatched it from his hand before pushing the man roughly to the ground. Leon towered over him as the man shook, Leon’s unbridled rage causing the bar to grow freezing cold. 

“Stay away from her.” Leon turned from the man and his gaze softened only slightly as it landed on you. Your eyes locked with his for only a moment before he avoided your gaze and approached you. His hand found your arm as he helped you off of the table. He wrapped an arm around your waist as the crowd parted like the Red Sea. All eyes were on the both of you as you walked out of the bar. 

“I can take it from here.” You said agitated as you tried to push yourself away from Leon. 

“I don’t care. I’m taking you home.” Leon said as he unlocked his car. That aggression he felt still resting on the tip of his tongue. He opens the passenger door and with a deep sigh you get in his car. After he just opened the door you took a deep breath before running your hand through your hair. A bottomless pit settled in your stomach before you sat back against the seat. 

“Seatbelt.” You heard him say as he got in the car, pulling you out of your thoughts. You compiled as he started to drive out of the parking lot and turned right out of the parking lot. 

You raise an eyebrow before looking at him and confusingly confront him, “You were supposed to turn left.” 

“I said I’m taking you home. I know where I’m going.” Leon glared ahead and for once wished you wouldn’t say a damn word. He was heated. 

“How did you know where I was?” 

“Can you not ask questions right now?” 

“No, because you’re freaking me out. First, you know where to find me and second, you hook a right when you know my place is left. Where are we going?” You stated in a matter of fact tone as you crossed your arms. You could tell he was angry, but you didn’t care because you were angry too. You never disclosed your location to him, he nearly started a fight, and he continued to treat you like you were something more to him regardless of the fact that he made it clear that you would never be anything more. 

“My place. It’s closer and I’m too tired to drive further than what I have too.” He admitted as he sent you a quick glance. 

“Your place?” You rolled your eyes, “You’re telling me that your place is closer and we’ve spent all this time at mine?” 

“Yeah.” Leon sighed with irritation. 

“How is that fair? How is it fair that you know all this shit about me, but I know nothing about you?” You asked flat out and annoyed. Normally after going an extended time without seeing Leon you didn’t ask any questions, you just tended to him until he was ready to talk. He loved that about you, you never pushed him. Leon grunted knowing that it was the alcohol and a mix of unconfronted emotions made you bold. 

“We talked about this-.”

“Yeah, we did, but you tracking my location wasn’t in that conversation.” Leon took his eyes off the road as the car came to a stop at a stoplight and he looked at you. He opened his mouth to speak, to defend himself, but you cut him off. “Cut the shit, I know it’s a bugged phone. I had it looked at and your sudden appearance tonight only proved it.” 

“It’s only bugged for your protection.” Leon got out through gritted teeth. 

“My protection? What the fuck are you even talking about? If anything it’s so you can keep your whores straight and away from your wife.” You spit at him with venom. You knew Leon wasn’t the type of guy to run around town like that, he was a one woman type of guy. You were just angry and confused at why you would be enough to protect but not enough to be his. 

Leon’s face turned up in pained disgust and he went to say something, but the blaring of a car horn called his attention back to the road and a green light. You huffed as you turned away from him and he continued to drive onward to his place. 

The rest of the car ride was silent, giving you time to feel bad about what you said and how you said it. Your face falling and your anger simmering out as your eyes felt heavy with the weight of fresh tears threatening to spill. You refused to cry though as you sniffed and he pulled into his driveway.

A two story house that was too big for just him, but old enough for you to believe that it was a house that was left to him in some family members' will. Or he could’ve bought it himself easily with the way you’ve seen him treat money; like it was something that grew on trees. He was a complete and utter mystery to you and it drove you insane that you could still fall for someone who you knew so little about. At this point you were more mad at yourself than you were at him. You knew of his interests and hobbies, his likes and dislikes, you saw his heart; but you didn’t have a clue about his day to day life. It was like he existed only to you and no one else. No criminal record, no traceable family; he seemed to have nothing. All you had were snippets of an article about Raccoon City that left you with more questions than answers. 

“Don’t worry, the wife’s not home.” Leon muttered through gritted teeth and you winced as he got out of the car. You went and got out of the car alongside him as you followed closely behind him. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that.” He opened the front door and you followed him in, shutting and locking it behind you. Your body now shaking as his focus remained straight ahead. He was so cold and you knew you deserved it. “I know that’s not you. I just…” you hesitated as you could feel your throat beginning to clog, knowing that your voice was going to waver and your next words were going to come out broken if you didn’t get a grip. 

“I’ve got a guest room, but I haven’t found time to clean it out so there is a bunch of junk and shit in there. You can take my bed and I’ll take the guest room.” Your heart broke, thinking he didn’t even want to be near you and you couldn’t blame him.

“I think we should call this off.” Your voice still broke as you said it and Leon quickly turned to you. His gaze softened immediately as soon as he saw your big glassy doe eyes. He stood frozen as his heart shattered. He was losing you and it wasn’t to some unforeseen force, he did this. His refusal to let you in completely had pushed you away. 

Leon was a fighter, it was his job. He stood up for what was right, he fought for people who couldn’t fight for themselves, he fought so people who weren’t fighters never had too. But did he ever fight for his own selfish desires? At the end of the day was he willing to fight for the first good thing he’s had in his life for a while? At the bar he was ready. He was ready to push his exhaustion aside and fight the object that stood between him and you; but now? Fighting you, the person he desired the most. 

“Look, it’s not anything personal…I just…this isn’t working for me.” You nervously blabbered out, the silence killing you. You took a deep breath as your hands found your hips, “I mean the Pretty Women aspect of it was fun, I had fun. I don’t know, I guess, I mean…” you stumbled over your own words. 

“Alright.” He said and you looked away from him as your arms wrapped around yourself trying to comfort yourself. The floodgates of your tears threatening to spill as your eyes darted around the room. 

“Okay. Good. I’ll sleep on the couch and grab a cab and be gone before the sun comes up.” You voice low as you head to the couch but Leon catches you by your elbow. The sudden connection of your bare skin against the palm of his hand sends a chill up his spine.

“I want to start again. I want to make it right.” He said as he slowly looked at you, his own eyes glassy. You study his face now and how exhausted he looked. “I’ll tell you everything. Let me start over. Let me make it right.” Your brows knitted together as you relaxed slightly and your other hand cupped his cheek. Tears fell from your eyes as you stifled a pained groan. “Please.” He begged and how could you say no?

Your lips found him in a hesitant kiss that he returned with desperation. The moment your lips sparked against his he was ready to fight again. His hand trailed down your arm and before it found your waist. He pulled you close to him as your arms wrapped around his neck. Sweet desperate kisses turned into feverishly hungry ones.

“Need you.” He admitted softly against your lips; hoping that you understood. Hoping that the feeling was returned. Hoping that right now that he said enough, that those two words meant enough. As you melted against him he knew that you understood. 

For the first time in a long time Leon was ready to give his all to something besides work. 

[petracozbi]

I'm finally came around to do my own Trolls HC list-thing (most are Branch related cuz he's my favourite):

Branch has almost perfectly trained senses from living and surviving on his own in the wilderness; he's got a very sensitive nose and he can easily hear the smallest movements even if they're fairly far away, etc.

Poppy makes sure to at least make a little noise when approaching Branch, as to not catch him off guard, since he had a tendency to get lost in thought when he feels he's in a safe and secure space, and can lower his defences. Kismet does the same (they're found family to me idc)

In the beginning, the bros found it kind of annoying/confusing how Poppy would start getting louder and yell out Branch's name every time they were getting close to him, probably shrugging it off to her just being a very hyper and overexcited girlfriend. It wasn't until they got to experience first-hand how Branch reacted when they suddenly just touched him while deep in thought, and let's just say, after having their arm pinned behind their back and a sharpened stick held to their throat a few too many times, they learned to give a heads-up.

Branch needs glasses. He stopped wearing them after Rosiepuff got eaten to fully avoid any connection with Brozone and his boyband persona. He's not completely blind and can still get around, but he relies mostly on his other senses (which also got way more sharp because of that), and has to get up close to see things in detail.

A HC I think I shared before: Branch is freakishly strong, but doesn't look it at first glance - He's very much humbled the bros (especially JD and Bruce) with this fact, when they try to wrestle him into a headlock to give him a nookie or a Wet Willy (JD and Bruce) and he just won't budge (Kismet knows to not even try) or when they want to help him carry something and they almost collapse under they weight when he hands it to them.

Besides being his vehicle, Rhonda is also JD's (unofficial) therapy animal.

Clay can't swim. He never learned since he spent his entire life in either the trolltree or the abandon golfcourse. When Bruce learns this, he takes it upon himself to try and teach him, but to their shared frustration, they both (Clay and Bruce) discover that Clay is apparently deadly afraid of open waters.

Bruce also didn't know how to swim when he first left the trolltree. He got washed up on vacay Island, having been staying afloat by holding onto a branch. The vacationers taught him how to swim.

JD can cook circles around most trolls. He did most of the cooking back in the trolltree 'cuz Rosiepuff was a horrible cook (referencing her apparently rancid-tasting fluffleberry cake), he also taught (Sp)Bruce how to cook, but never got around to teach the others 'cuz they split up. Bruce later incorporated some of JD's recipes into the menu at the restaurant.

Branch's tastebuds are pretty hardened (some might say almost nonexistent), and trolls tend to assume it's from his survival years, where he'd just eat whatever as long as it was edible, didn't matter what it tasted like. In reality, it's mostly from solely eating Rosiepuff's cooking for like maybe a year or two after the band split up (yeah that's all it took to mess them tastebuds up for years after). Ofc in the beginning, he had to force himself to even put the food in his mouth, but he did it 'cuz he wanted to make his grandma happy.

Kismet was formed shortly after the bros left. It was Rosiepuff who encouraged Branch to socialize with other trollings around his age, since he became very closed off after the split (tho' I think he'd been a pretty shy and quiet kid to begin with (with the exception of when he performed as Bitty B))

Branch used to get bullied (more) for his greyness as a kid. Kismet would chase them off.

Although Branch is not as forgiving either, Kismet 100% holds a grudge for the bros leaving Branch - the Snackpack too, when they also learn what happened.

The bros are absolutely bewildered by the fact that Branch is dating the Queen, and that he'd probably one day be King. Branch himself gets very anxious when they mention this; just the thought of that much responsibility and being in the spotlight like that has him sweating.

Bruce's favorite way of annoying Branch is to tease him about his and Poppy's relationship, asking him when he can expect the wedding invitations and some nieces or nephews. In reality, it's probably Poppy that proposes in the future, with a long, romantic and heartfelt speech ofc (and yes, he cries).

That's all I got for now