#and have the nerve to ask for ANYTHING? Again- insulting

[rivilu]

Putting him in the blender is no longer enough I need to-

[strnilolover]

⌗ . . . YOU DON’T HATE ME

WARNINGS : STEP SIBLING TROPE. SMUT. DRY HUMPING. SPITTING KINK. BITING. LIGHT SLAPPING. TITTY SUCKING. KINDA MEAN!MATT. (pls tell me if i forgot anything).

god you hated him—hated the way he was so charming and perfect and so fucking hot.

your mom thought that this family trip would bring everyone together, but it really didn’t. you couldn’t stop yourself from trying to pick a fight with matt every chance you got, your arguing and bickering beginning to get on your moms nerves.

“can’t you two get along for one day?” she asked you mid argument, stopping whatever insult you were going to throw at him next. your head whipped in her direction, and you just crossed your arms. “well i would if he wasn’t such an ass all the time.” you snapped.

your mom glared at you, “language.” you quickly mumbled an apology. “you two go find something to do, and i want you guys to get along by the end of it.” both you and matt gave her matching glares of your own at her words.

“fine.” you grumbled, turning your back to matt as you walked off toward your shared room—which was the cherry on top of it all. you had to sleep in the same bed as his every night this trip. having to stop yourself from tracing lines along his chest while he slept—he was too tempting.

the air between you had always been…tense. ever since your parents got married, matt had made it his full-time job to pick on you—cold looks, snide comments, backhanded compliments. but he never left you alone. and no matter how much you claimed to hate him, part of you waited for the attention. craved it even. especially late at night, when the house was quiet and the only thing separating your bodies was the thinnest sheet imaginable.

matt didn’t follow you as you made your way to the room, deciding to peel off and go do his own thing, ignoring your mothers request to spend some time together. you didn’t see him again until later that night after everyone was already in bed—your pajamas were on and the blankets were pulled high over your body.

you weren’t asleep yet, you couldn’t be—not with matt’s body radiating with heat as he climbed under the blankets with you. you couldn’t help the way your body shuttered with how close he was to you.

“you’re taking up the whole damn bed.” matt muttered from behind you as if he knew you weren’t actually asleep, his voice irritated. you rolled your eyes, back still turned to him. “then sleep on the floor, tough guy.”

he laughed, and you could feel it down your spine. “right. like I’d let your bratty little ass win that easy.” and you shifted under the covers, accidentally moving to brush your bare leg against his. “watch it,” he snapped. you rolled your eyes, “you’re so dramatic,” you whispered under your breath.

he moved suddenly—rolling over, pressing his chest against your back, one heavy arm wrapping around your waist. your breath caught at the contact, your body wiggling slightly in his grasp.

“i swear to God.” he murmured, lips brushing your ear, “you just love to piss me off, don’t you? always doin’ shit to rile me up on purpose.” your thighs clenched at his words—he wasn’t wrong.

“and yet you love pretending you don’t like it.” you snipped back.

he hummed, his hand moving to slowly slip under your shirt without hesitation, fingers splaying across your stomach. your brain started to short circuit, whatever snarky words you had disappearing. his touch already having you go limp for him—he’s never touched you like this before. “you walk around in those tiny shorts all week,” he growled. “picking fights with me. you knew what you were doing.”

you gasped when he pulled your hips back against him—his hard cock grinding slowly into your ass. his hand moved up to your throat under your shirt, gently gripping, just enough pressure to make your eyes roll back—your body tingling. you could feel the way your panties became soaked, the fabric sticking to your wet folds.

“you’re not gonna say a word.” he whispered, biting your earlobe. “not unless you want mom to hear her perfect little girl fucking in the guest room.” you whimpered, his words making the heat between your legs more prominent as he began rocking into you, dry humping through the thin layers of clothes. his mouth came down to meet your shoulder—teeth scraping before he bit down—leaving a mark behind on your skin when he pulled away.

“matt.” you breathed heavily, your find already fogging. a sharp sudden slap to your thigh made you cry out softly, your body jerking.

“did I say you could talk?” he spat against your ear, letting his tongue run along the lobe before nipping it. you couldn’t help but to moan into the pillow, writhing as his hand slid to your chest and cupped one of your tits, his thumb brushing over your nipple until it hardened. slowly he shifted himself, grabbing you and moving you onto your back before slotting himself over you and between your legs.

his mouth followed soon after—tugging your shirt up, lips closing over your tit, tongue licking lazily at your nipple before he sucked hard. letting his teeth nip at your now sensitive bud—the pain making you moan. it was messy and obscene, and you never wanted it to stop.

when he pulled back, spit dripped from his mouth as he stared down at you. his hips began to grind down, rubbing against your clit through the fabric of your panties. you sucked in a sharp breath, your hands coming up to grip at his shirt.

matt smirked, letting a hand come up to grab your face. “c’mon, open up for me sweetheart. you can do that yeah?” he muttered. you obeyed, dazed, your lips parting.

slowly he spat into your mouth, letting the saliva drop into your mouth before he came down and connected his lips to yours. it was heated and desperate, your mouth opening wider to let him in as his teeth nipped your lips, making you bleed slightly.

when he pulled away, his eyes were dark—lust pooled in his orbs. “be a good girl and swallow it.” he demanded.

you did—your eyes locked on his the whole time. you were both breathing heavy now, his hand now tangled in your hair, pulling your head back so he could kiss you again, roughly.

“i hate you,” you breathed.

“yeah?” he mocked, rocking against you faster now, one hand gripping the flesh of your thigh. “let’s see how true that really is, cause i think this pussy says otherwise.”

a/n : ik this isn’t everyone’s cup of tea, but i had to (never written something like this before either). creds to whoever has created stepbrother!matt <3

[orphicsun]

nightwish; e.w

content: sleep-deprived reader + dealer ellie, mentions of weed and technically drug dealing, friends w/ benefits in development, make-out session with masturbation (r!), teasing, cheesy dirty talk (this is cannon ellie i fear), fingering (r! receiving), kinda sleepy sex.

The nights in which you cannot fall asleep have always been the worst. Your childhood was spent likewise, tossing in your bed and reading with droopy eyes, trying to will yourself to slumber. Your adulthood was filled with melatonin gummies and the eventual walk to your closet for the hitachi wand in hopes that would put you to bed.

Before you met Ellie, it was endless hours of staring up at the ceiling. You would try every possible sleep position online articles could offer, stare up at the ceiling and count sheep, and doomscroll until you had to wake up for your job early in the morning. You gave up on sleep a lot.

Ellie didn't start out as a the most conventional solution, anyways. You had found yourself reaching out to her for the strands of weed that would calm your nerves rather than bring you into that giggles-and-munchies state of mind. Ellie seemed to be awake on her own accord, so it became less of a shock every time she agreed to meet up with you in an empty Wendy's parking lot, agreeing to meet up and sell to you.

But Ellie being your dealer was only because she was a friend of a friend. The dealings started out brief. She would hand you the bag, and you would give her the money.

Then, one suggestion turned into a smoke session, and one smoke session turned into four. And from there, the fix to your long-term sleeping issues became more and more out of standard. The bottle of melatonin grew dusty on your shelf the more Ellie came over.

And eventually, Ellie and you liked to joke that you were cuddle buddies. You let her lay behind you and rub her hands over your side, giving a kiss to the back of your neck that could be passed off as a 'friendship kiss.' (Who were you kidding?) It helped you sleep to feel safe in Ellie's arms.

But that was the last piece of innocence in the dynamic you and Ellie had. Because what started as another way to help you sleep turned into something you don't plan on telling even your closest friends.

Ellie has you sat across her lap, your own hand shoved down into your pajama pants. You rub your clit at a desperate pace as she shoves her tongue into your mouth for you to suck on.

You didn't plan on masturbating on your dealer's lap, but one joking suggestion that "an orgasm would wear you out" was taken too seriously.

You moan as Ellie's tongue licks the inside of your mouth, your lips molded together and hot against each other's. Ellie doesn't make a move to touch you, either. It drives you crazy. You want to ask her to fuck you herself, but you can already hear the teasing in her voice. It plays in your head over and over again every time you contemplate guiding her hand to your cunt.

"What, you can't get yourself off? Do I have to do everything for you?"

It wouldn't be said in a way that meant anything mean or truly insulting. You can imagine the way the words would be low and teasing, a smile on her face. You know if you asked, she'd easily retrieve the harness and toy from your closet you bought months ago. You know the teasing would be worth it. Still, you sit with your ass pressed against her thighs, feeling your own two fingers rub circles onto your clit and not Ellie's.

Part of it is the aspect of teasing. Ellie is well aware that you are past the dealer and customer line. Fuck, you're past the friendship line. You wrap your lips around her tongue and let her grope your tits so willingly. Ellie isn't a player at all, and yet playing the game of 'who will be the first to take the next step' is enticing. Neither of you want to break first.

Ellie pulls away from your mouth to catch her breath, and her hand leaves your waist to spread over one of your tits, squeezing to hear the way your breath hitches. She can see the way your movements speed up the more she works you. She adds the pressure by leaving sloppy, wet kisses all over your rapidly-beating pulse. She knows it's only a matter of time before you ask for her touch, for what both of you want.

But you don't. At first, Ellie thinks you got really into the moment, but your hand leaves your pants soaked and your breathing slows, she realizes you didn't ask for it at all. You took care of yourself.

And without even realizing or caring, Ellie breaks.

"You already came?" She asks you, voice still breathless but obvious confusion laced within her tone. There is a slight whine you can't really make out.

"Yeah? You suggested it, and I think it worked. I'm honestly pretty worn out." You lie. You still want her. You will let her give you another if she asks..

"Are you sure?"

"What are you suggesting, Ellie?"

She scoffs, but the sound is more amused than anything. "I'm just saying, you don't seem that sleepy. I think you didn't do a very good job."

"Excuse me?" You laugh. "That isn't answering my question, you know."

"I know you aren't stupid, even when you've smoked one of my joints." Ellie teases. "I'm suggesting.." her hands cup your face so she can speak into your ear. "You let me take care of you."

"Oh?"

Ellie grins. "Yeah. You'll be snoring by the time I'm done with you."

You laugh, but your heart-rate speeds up once again as you feel Ellie's hand trailing down your body and slipping into your pants.

"I don't think that's sexy, El."

"Oh, trust me. It is. You'll be so turned, you'll complete the entire REM cycle."

You snort and playfully smack her shoulder. "You better not keep me waiting, then. I have work in the morning, and I need some sleep."

You feel Ellie's fingers feel up the soaked patch on your panties, teasing your already-dripping hole through the fabric.

"Then trust me..I'll take care of you, okay?"

You nod, and Ellie smiles softly. You pull her in for a kiss again, this time the action being more soft and sweet. Ellie tugs at the lacy edge of your panties as if making sure you want her. You push back into her touch, and you’re rewarded with the feeling of Ellie finally pulling your panties to the side and teasing your dripping slit with her finger.

“Mmphh..” you moan into the kiss, and Ellie pulls away to mark up your neck. You open up for her so easily—spreading your legs to accommodate for her hand and tilting your neck back for more of her mouth’s attack on your sensitive skin.

“Shh, I’ve got you. Can you relax for me?” Ellie mumbles out her question into your neck.

“I’ll try.”

“Good.” She smiles and brushes over your clit, rubbing back and forth on the swollen bud. You’re still a bit sensitive from your last orgasm, so Ellie doesn’t abuse the action too much. Any other time sure, but she remembers that this is about getting you relaxed and sleepy.

“Can you handle two fingers?”

“Please..”

You feel two, slightly calloused fingers prod at your entrance. You’d usually tense up or jolt, but Ellie leaves soft, comforting kisses on your neck. Her free hand settles around your hip and you feel relaxed.

Ellie takes the opportunity to slide her digits into your cunt, and immediately groans at the feeling of your walls clenching around her, drawing her deeper inside.

You instinctively move your hips back and forth in her lap, and you keep chasing the feeling she gives you. Ellie easily fills every bit of you that you crave to feel her. She works you open and continues to coo soft praises in your ear, encouraging your movements.

"There you go, babe. Just like that." She praises.

You melt into her the more she pleases you, and you rest your head on her shoulder and leave soft kisses on her neck. When your body is all relaxed and open to everything she can give you, she begins to pump her fingers in and out of your wetness until you clutch her hand and beg for more.

Ellie was already hitting every sensitive spot inside of you, but begins to tend to your most sensitive when her fingertips curl to seek out your sweet spot and caress into it. Her pace quickens in time with your desperation. Each squeeze on her wrist rewards you.

When you finally cum, Ellie eases you through the ride, drawing out each last drop of pleasure from you until your desperation is satiated. You're left a sticky, half-awake mess in her lap when your heart-rate is slowed and you've recovered from the orgasm. Her hand leaves your panties and she gives you a kiss on the cheek.

You'll sleep well tonight for the first time in weeks.

taglist: @witzs, @bewareofmyglock, @ruelezz, @mitskimisfit, @g4ys0n, @eriiwaii, @meow4510, @plasticl0v3r, @frillynpinkprincess want to be added to my taglist? click here

[cherrylibby]

Chasing the Storms

The Oklahoma sky was bruised with the colors of an oncoming storm—deep violets and angry grays swirling above the horizon. Tyler barely noticed. His heart was pounding harder than it had on any chase as he stood on your front porch, waiting for you to slam the door in his face.

But you didn’t.

You stood there, eyes burning with something between fury and heartbreak, your arms crossed like a shield against him. The years hadn’t dulled your fire—if anything, they’d made it sharper. And damn, if that didn’t hurt just as much as it made him miss you.

"You got some nerve showing up here, Tyler," you said, voice tight.

He nodded once. "Yeah. I do."

A bitter smirk pulled at your lips, but there was no humor in it. "What do you want?"

Tyler exhaled, shoving his hands into his pockets to keep them from shaking. "I need your help. There’s a storm system coming, bigger than anything I’ve ever seen. We’ve got a solid team, the tech, but…" He hesitated. "No one tracks storms like you."

You scoffed, stepping back like he’d just insulted you. "Unbelievable. You disappear for years—no calls, no letters, not a damn word—and now you show up at my door because you need something? Do you even hear yourself?"

He flinched. He deserved that.

"It’s not just about the storm," he tried, but you weren’t having it.

"Oh, really? Then what is it about, Tyler?" Your voice cracked on his name, and that nearly broke him. "Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you only come back when it’s convenient for you."

His jaw tightened. "You told me you were done."

"You left!"

"You made me leave!" The words exploded out of him, sharp and desperate, cutting through the space between you. "You quit chasing, you shut down, and you looked at me like I was the worst thing that ever happened to you. I didn’t know how to fix that!"

You shook your head, eyes glistening, but you refused to let a tear fall. "You didn’t even try," you whispered.

Silence.

The wind picked up around you, rustling the old wind chimes hanging from the porch. The storm was rolling in fast now, but the one brewing between you and Tyler was worse.

"You think it was easy for me to walk away?" he asked, voice lower now, strained. "You think I wanted to leave you?" He took a step closer, and to his relief, you didn’t move away. "Every damn day, I thought about coming back. About calling you. But what was I supposed to say? ‘Hey, sorry for nearly getting you killed—wanna chase another storm?’" He let out a rough laugh, shaking his head. "I left because I thought you’d be better off without me."

You swallowed hard, arms tightening around yourself like you were holding yourself together. "That wasn’t your choice to make."

Tyler ran a hand over his face. "I know." He let out a breath, looking at you like you were the only thing keeping him grounded. "I know."

A long pause.

Then, softer—more vulnerable than he’d ever sounded—he said, "I never stopped loving you."

Your breath caught.

For a second, you looked away, blinking fast, but then you lifted your chin, meeting his gaze with that same defiance he’d always loved about you. "Then why did you leave me to love you alone?"

That shattered him.

His hand came up, hesitating just for a second before he cupped your cheek. You didn’t pull away. Instead, you leaned into his touch, just the slightest bit, and that was all he needed.

Before you could say another word, he kissed you.

It wasn’t careful, wasn’t hesitant. It was desperate and raw, full of everything left unsaid over the years. His other hand found your waist, pulling you flush against him, and when your fingers tangled in his hair, he groaned into the kiss.

You tasted like the past and everything he’d ever wanted in the future.

When you finally pulled back, both of you breathless, foreheads resting together, he whispered, "Come with me."

You exhaled shakily. "Tyler—"

"Not just for the storms. For us." His grip on you tightened like he was terrified of letting go again. "I screwed up. I should’ve stayed. Should’ve fought harder. But I’m here now, and if you tell me to leave, I’ll go. But I swear to God, I don’t want to run anymore. I just want you."

You stared at him, torn between every scar he’d left on your heart and the undeniable truth that you still loved him.

Outside, thunder rumbled, shaking the sky.

You sighed. Then, finally, finally, you muttered, "Damn it, Tyler."

He grinned. "I’ll take that as a yes."

You rolled your eyes, but when you pulled him down for another kiss, he knew he was finally home.

[kenjakusbraincum]

Heey, I LOVE your writings on soft sukuna, you write so beautifully🩷 please can you do one where he is jealous (fluff)😭🩷

Thank you sm for the kind words!!! Here's my best attempt at doing your idea justice <3

Sukuna has no real reason to be jealous. He practically owns you, controls every aspect of your life, who or what could he possibly be jealous of? Every servant who dared approach you in an inappropriate way would be dealt with swiftly. And you're a good pet, who has eyes for no one other than your master. You really don't give him a reason.

But there's this one thing... Since you've been so good and obedient, Sukuna has allowed you many liberties. You're permitted to skip around the mansion, watch Uraume cook, even enjoy little hobbies. You've tried many before you found that crocheting particularly piqued your interest. Ever since you've learned the basics, you've been spending hours working on perfecting your skills. At first it was cute, watching you squint in concentration as you move the hook. But then the math became really simple - having this hobby to keep you busy meant you approached Sukuna out of boredom a lot less. And he noticed it. It irked him, but you're not technically doing anything wrong. You were still as happy to serve him as ever, he just had to ask. But why would he have to ask? You should be all over him on your own. He should have to push you away, not beg you to give him attention. He didn't like this disturbance in your master and pet balance that this little hobby of yours caused.

He stands at the door now. You're crocheting again. You and your favorite servant laugh at your failed creation so sweetly, you don't even notice he's waiting. He clicks his tongue to establish his presence, and your servant falls to her knees immediately. You however, are not held to that high of a standard anymore.

"Master!", you call him, and hop up to greet him with a deep bow. Before he can say anything, you've picked up the piece of fabric you've been working on and ran into his arms to show him.

He looks at the ugly form and scoffs. "This is what I'm sponsoring?", he says and pulls a loose piece of yarn, making your little creation fall apart. He always was a bully, but you note his bad mood.

"I'm only a beginner...", you sulk.

"That much is obvious.", he flicks the yarn away and it falls onto the floor. Before you can bend to pick it up, he seizes your wrist and pulls you back. "Aren't you a little young to waste time with hobbies for the elderly?", he asks. You look at him with your cutest, practiced doe eyes, but it doesn't work.

"Come, pet. I know an activity more suitable for your age.", he says when you don't respond, and steps out of the room. You hop after him, unaffected by his condescending comments. You know that they're just for show. If he really thought you were a hag, you would've been gone a long time ago.

"Sitting at your throne all day?", you tease innocently and join him at his side, sliding your arm underneath one of his. You hope your playfulness will distract him from whatever is bothering him. "Or in a bath?" His lower set of eyes peeks at you and smirks, noticing that you're feeling particularly daring today. He's not sure how he feels about that. "Or in your bed." He rolls his eyes gently and opens the door to his chambers.

"At least then you'd be serving your purpose and actually spending time with your master.", he comments and shuts the door. His comment catches you a bit off guard and you stop in front of his bed. He makes his way towards you, and you look up at him with an insulted expression.

"Master, are you jealous of a ball of yarn?", you ask playfully, and squeal when he suddenly pushes you down to sit on the bed. Now you're at eye level... with his crotch.

"You've got quite a big mouth today. Put it to good use for a change, will you?", he runs his hand from the crown of your head to the back of your neck. You seem to have struck a nerve, so it really is the ball of yarn. Is it possible that Sukuna is this clingy?

"Will you?", he repeats and tugs on your hair and narrows his eyes. You smile obediently and reach behind him to untie his obi.

"Yes Master."

-

You try your best to manage the time you spend crocheting from then on, working on productivity in the hours that you dedicate to developing this skill. And it helps that you have a specific goal in mind now: helping Sukuna realize that this hobby is a friend, not an enemy. He still catches you engaging in it sometimes, and gives you a dirty look, but you're as quick as ever to drop what you're doing and join him. That seems to satisfy him.

When you're finally happy with the result of your creation, you look for Sukuna around the mansion. It's not really that hard to find him, as he frequents three places most of all: the dining room, his bedroom and his throne room. This time, he's sitting on his throne, and a small line of people wait for their turn to be gifted his attention. You on the other hand, don't have to wait in line to get it. His lower set of eyes spots you the moment you enter the chamber. You're allowed to roam the mansion, but barging in unannounced is not standard even for you.

Still, Sukuna has learned that you usually only feel daring enough to cross boundaries when you're sure he'll like what you have in mind. So for now, he will let this slide. He's bored as hell anyways. The people are dismissed and you pass by them on your way to his throne, nestled on a pile of bones. You stop in front of it and greet him with a bow.

"Master, I come to you with a humble offering.", you say with your hands on your thighs and your eyes fixated on the ground.

"Show me.", he says simply, but you recognize entertainment in his voice. You climb up the bones and feel his stare scan you from head to toe, before you sit on his knee.

"May I ask you to close your eyes?", you ask and flutter your lashes. Oh the way you seduce him. Who else could ask Sukuna to do something as dangerous as close his eyes? Give his opponent valuable time to land an attack. Who else could dare? And who else would he ever listen to and really close his eyes? Really do as he's told? Oh how safe he feels with you.

You take one of his large hands into yours, and gently pry his long fingers away to open his palm. He has beautiful hands. The only ones you've ever known, but you're sure they're the most beautiful hands in the world. So dangerous, so elegant. You want to press a kiss to his palm, but you hope your gift will have the same, maybe even more profound effect.

Something soft touches his skin, and then you speak, as politely as before. "You may look.", in your softest voice. And when he opens his eyes, he finds himself looking at you first. You're an offering on your own.

Then he looks at his hand. Two crocheted plush figures resembling him and yourself lay flat on his palm, connected through their holding hands. At first glance, it looks like they're two separate creations. In a sense, they are, but... He tries to part them.

"We're sewn together.", you explain. He hums in amusement and inspects your gift more closely. His plush is bigger, recognizable by the pink hair and four buttons for eyes. It's even wearing his favorite kimono. Yours is smaller and less detailed. You look like any other human when placed next to him, insignificant. But in a sea of pets, entertainers and lovers he's had in the past, he would never fail to recognize it as you.

He's spent so long looking at it with that face of his that you just can't read. You're starting to grow restless in his lap, and he feels your eyes dwell into his soul. When he looks back at you with one pair of eyes, your brows are furrowed in worry and you're fiddling your hands in your lap. He pats you on the head and pulls you closer, so you have no choice but to lean on his frame.

"It's beautiful, darling.", his fingers run through your hair, scraping your scalp softly. "No loose threads either.", he looks at you with all four eyes now, and you feel so small in his arms. You're not used to receiving this many compliments from Sukuna at once. Not ones that weren't directed at your body or performance. Especially not when he's looking at you so tenderly, when every word sounds so loving and genuine. "You've improved so much.", his hand is on your face now, and you catch him glancing at your lips. You part them to start thanking him, but you already know how much he hates listening to that.

You stay quiet instead, and lean closer, letting him take you. And he kisses you so softly, fingertips light against your heated skin. You feel like you're floating, like a lily pad in a warm pond. The littlest gesture of his affection has you melting in his embrace. The power he has over you... and how wonderful it is to surrender yourself to it.

None of the liberties and privileges you've been awarded with compare to this. You know that many pets have walked these halls before you. Many warmed his bed and claimed the title of his favorite. But how many loved him like this? Enough to dedicate time of their day to making intricate gifts. How many could say Sukuna kissed them lovingly, for no other reason than to show gratitude and affection?

You're flushed completely red by the time his lips leave yours. You can't hold the intensity of his gaze, as he stares at you in adoration. "I'm happ.. I'm glad you l-like it...", you stumble through the words and win a giggle out of him. You are just so cute. Like a pet should be. He rubs your head again and pushes you away lightly.

"Go now, the people await me.", he says with a benevolent smile gracing his face. "I'll see you tonight."

You bow to him and leave.

And when you visit him that night, he is as gentle as he was when he kissed you earlier, still in a good mood after your gift. Caressing your hair, shoulders and back, as you lay comfortably with your head on his chest. Keeping you warm in his embrace. You're trying your best to follow the conversation, but sleep is slowly taking over you. Sukuna notices and plants a kiss to your forehead, wishing you goodnight. The last thing you see before your eyes close, is your handcrafted plushies sitting on his nightstand.

[lavshaze]

Act of defiance

✧ contains ⤐ smut, once again <3 oral but not in the way you think. d/s dynamics, silco being a professional brat tamer, another vision that came to me in a dream, silco sex dreams are ruining my life but also making it way better. w.c ~ 1.2k

Ao3 version

“Look at me.”

Usually, you’d obey. 

Orders from Silco weren’t uncommon, especially when you’re in the bedroom, lying under him in all your naked glory. Usually, this wouldn’t require a second thought— he’d say something and you would listen, and that had granted you five months of mind-blowing, life-changing sex. 

But not tonight. No, you'd give him absolutely nothing tonight. 

Stubbornly, you turn your head to the side, biting down on your lips as you pretend like this isn't happening right now. 

“Look at me.” 

Silco doesn't like when his words fall on deaf ears, you know it gets on his nerves because he's a little control freak. And up until tonight, you'd been so obedient, so eager to tend to his every desire, you'd have given him the moon if he asked, and you'd have continued to be as such if he didn't fucking piss you off. 

You scoff, keeping your gaze firmly planted on his bedside table. You read the titles of the books on display over and over, memorizing the colors and spines and which ones are a little crooked and which ones are finished, aged by the passage of time and the repeated strokes of slightly damp fingers. 

You could feel Silco seething on top of you. 

Hot breath warming the side of your face, you see his lips contort into a sneer from your peripheral vision. You're tempted to look at him, stare directly into his mismatched eyes and tell him to fuck off.

But before you can think to do anything, he pushes himself into you, one rough thrust that has you contorting every muscle in your body to ignore the white hot pleasure it sends through your entire being. You squeeze around him and sharply inhale, but you keep your head planted to the side. You weren't going to let him win this, you weren't going to give in. 

He groans, possibly at the way you feel around him, but also because your little show of defiance is probably causing him a great headache. Another exhausting day of running Zaun and he doesn't even get to enjoy having you all to himself, all because you're dead set on being stubborn. His bare chest heaves against yours, skin on skin, but you're determined to be as far away from him as possible. 

He moves slowly, pulling out all the way and easing himself back in, at a much softer pace than the first thrust, almost like he's apologizing. Too bad he sucks at actual apologies, you'd have crumbled by now if he had shown the smallest signs of actual remorse. But that's just who Silco is, stubborn till the end. 

Unfortunately for him, so were you. 

He sets a regular pace, entering you over and over again in a slow languid motion, nose burying into your neck trying to redirect your gaze so you'd look at him. When you don't budge, he draws back sharply, and you can tell he's all out of patience now. Silco is one of those people blessed— cursed— with patience that lasts for a total of five seconds. 

Especially tonight, especially after the long day he’s had. Didn’t you know that enforcing his power upon the other, increasingly annoying, chem-barons had put him on edge? Didn’t you know that he had thought of you all day, missing the way your face contorts when he’s inside you? Had you no idea that he is on the verge of falling apart if he doesn’t receive a healthy dose of your affection soon? 

Maybe you knew, maybe you just didn’t care. 

The thought angers him.

“I said,” long fingers grasp the side of your face, digging into your skin, “look at me.” 

He turns your head so you're facing him now, sharp glare boring into his dark eyes. He glares back, good eyebrow furrowing, and something else flickers in his eye besides anger— something warm and delicious and dangerously enticing. 

“You little defiant brat.” 

He spits it out like an insult. You observe his lips curl around every syllable of the word; brat, brat, brat, brat. 

“Always so obedient, always so eager to listen to me, to do what I ask of you. Who knew that under that little angel act you were such a devilish whore?”

Whore, whore, whore.  

He brings his thumb to your lips, tracing the outline of the bruised exterior— the aggressive kisses he had planted on them beforehand— before he slowly pushes the digit into your warm, wet mouth. Your lips reflexively curl around the appendage, hollowing your cheeks as your tongue runs over it. The taste sends a pulse of pleasure through your body, particularly affecting the part where you’re connected. You suck on his finger and tighten your thighs around his waist. He uses his other arm to elevate one of your legs and wrap it around his waist, reaching an entirely new angle that has you squirming around his finger.  

A little show of power never hurt anyone. Or maybe it did, you didn't really care about that right now. 

But as he's watching you take him in, eyelids drooping as you look up at him, vulnerable under his control, you decide you're not going to let him enjoy this for much longer. You bring your teeth down around his finger and bite, hard. 

You expect him to withdraw, to sneer at you and degrade you some more then draw back so he can stand tall and fuck the shit out of you. But he doesn't; instead, he plants his finger deeper in your mouth, pressing on your tongue as you gag around it. Your eyes water slightly and you're in disbelief at how utterly turned on you are.  

“You think I can't handle a little bit of biting here and there? Darling, I thought you'd know better.” 

You gaze into his eyes, feeling much less defiant now, instead looking to satisfy that aching need in your lower belly. You're one second away from pulling his finger out of your mouth and begging when he draws back. 

In the blink of an eye, you lose his finger in your mouth and his cock inside you. Feeling hopelessly empty and blindsided, you open your mouth to protest, but you don't get the chance to. Instead, you're lifted by your hips and flipped around like a potato sack being thrown around. You flop down on your stomach helplessly, probing yourself up on your arms so you can turn to look at him.

“Silco.” 

What's meant as a demand comes out as a whine and your face warms up in embarrassment. It's hard to mask the want in your body when you're this frustrated. 

His rough hands palm the curve of your ass as a sharp smile curls on his lips. “Ah, so you can talk after all, just not to answer to my orders, hm?” 

“Sil, please, I'm sorry-” 

He places his cock between your cheeks, “you know how I utterly despise unfinished work, dove. I’m going to need you to stick with your plan till the very end.” 

The menacing look in his eyes makes a shiver run down your spine as he leans forward to whisper the next few words. 

“Let’s see how many orgasms that attitude will be rewarding you with tonight.” 

[muxshwriting]

compelling

Feud-Rautha Harkonnen x reader

summary: Feyd can no longer live with only a portion of his wife and strives to find who she truly is || word count: 948 || masterlist

once again, I have been peer pressured (someone very politely requested) and I am being forced (I wrote this in a peak of artistic inspiration) to publish a third part to voiceless and articulate. Enjoy!

REQUESTED: I've read all your Feyd stories and I love them! Would you please consider doing a continuation of "Articulate" where Feyd is so desperate to win over his wife that he asks her new friends for advice? Thank you.

Ever since you’d postponed your day with him, Feyd had been unable to think of anything else. He couldn’t imagine what else you spent your days doing, what was more important to you than him. As he began craving your presence, he noticed just how much time you spent out of your chambers, elsewhere.

He approached you one evening when you were getting ready for bed. “Y/N?” He stopped calling you ‘Wife’ when he noticed the subtle flinch that accompanied its use. “Where do you spend your days? You always return with such happiness.” He meant nothing by it, a simple observation that you always glowed a little brighter afterwards.

You hesitated before answering, hearing horror stories of what Feyd has done to servants. “I- My handmaiden and some of the other maids, they spend their days teaching me things about our house, about Geidi Prime. I enjoy their company.” You admitted.

Feyd frowned. “Your handmaiden? You’ve been hiding away with your handmaiden all this time?”

“Do not speak of her with such disdain! She is my friend. You will do her no harm or I will never forgive you.”

“What?”

You mistook his confusion for insult. “You heard me-“

“You misunderstand, my love.” That title was a new one. “I am simply surprised. I worried you had filled your time with another lover. That I would not be so kind towards.”

The endearment that slipped from his lips did not escape unnoticed by you and you felt your heart fluttering slightly within your chest. The careless and childish hopes from the beginning on your marriage had the nerve to peek their heads towards daylight and it took all your might to push them back down. He was just a possessive man, claiming what was already his. He could not love you, not the way you wanted him to.

“Oh. No! I would never- I would never take a lover Feyd. I am not a traitor.”

“I- I was not trying to imply-“ It was the first time you had ever heard Feyd be uncertain in anything, stumbling over his words.

He reached out to you and you let him slip your hand into his. His body was mere inches from yours as he stood silently, staring down at you.

“I’m sorry.” It was a murmur of an apology you never thought he was even capable of. “Please tell your handmaiden… thank you from me, for taking care of you.”

Your eyes soften as you take a small step so you’re truly in each other’s space. “I shall pass along your message. Goodnight husband.” There’s a softness behind your words that Feyd hasn’t heard in a while and he’s very grateful for its return.

In the days following your discussion, you and Feyd had minimised some of the distance between you, but not all. There was space Feyd couldn’t cross alone, no matter how much he wanted to. He needed help, aid from someone who knew you far better than he did.

Reluctantly, Feyd made his way down to the servants quarters. He stops silently outside the door, suddenly nervous to enter.

He knocked and your handmaiden opened the door, paling at the sight of the Na-Baron. “My Lord Feyd.” She bowed before him, slipping out into the hallway. “How can I assist you?” Despite your assurance that your husband would never hurt her, your handmaiden still had fear when stood in front of Feyd.

Feyd seemed unsure of himself now that he was stood in front of someone about to ask for their help. “I wish to help my wife.”

“Is the Na-Baroness unwell?”

“She is fine.” Feyd said shortly. “But our marriage…” He does not wish to continue and your handmaiden knows it.

Slyly, she looks him up and down with a knowing look. “It’s called love. She feels it too.”

“She-“ Feyd stopped himself. “She loves me?”

“And you love her. She’s just hesitant to give you all of herself.”

He took a moment to breathe, his head spinning from the realisation that his wife loved him. “I love her…”

“Then tell her that.” Your handmaiden pressed. “Tell her she is loved.”

Heeding your handmaiden’s words, Feyd approached the evening much differently than he normally would. He greeted you as he entered your chambers, a small smile across his face as he offered to help you change and you, surprised, allowed him to.

He couldn’t stop the giddy feeling his heart had when you leant into him as he pulled the pins from your hair. You let yourself lean in, praying that life had finally dealt you the perfect hand.

Beyond either os your notices, you handmaiden had slipped into your chambers, aiming to help you get ready for the evening. But upon seeing your gentle embrace with Feyd, a knowing smile spread across her lips and she turned on her heel to slip back out again. Her shoe brushed against the floor for just a second and you glanced up at her.

Silently, a conversation passes. A frown, a smile, a nod. A look towards Feyd, a glance you made in his direction. He’s aware of all that is going but blissfully choosing to ignore it, his eyes almost slipping shut as he runs his hand down your back and letting it settle at your waist.

No words are exchanged as the evening progresses, but the light touches continue and you never find yourself out of Feyd’s space for more than a second. It isn’t until you’re in bed and wrapped in his arms that you speak.

“Goodnight my love.”

Feyd smiles against you and murmurs the same sentiment back, finally slipping into sleep.

[artsninspo]

007 | Richmond Inc.

「 ✦ full library & archive ✦ 」

「 ✦ aaron pierre & characters library ✦ 」

⇚ 006

♠ summary: Lorence navigates the high-stakes world of elite private security under her enigmatic boss, Terry Richmond. But when Terry’s watchful gaze turns unexpectedly intimate, the tension between them ignites—blurring the lines. This ones fluffy 🧸.

♠ pairing: Terry Richmond (Aaron Pierre - Rebel Ridge) X Lorence Cole (Black Fem OC)

♠ word-count: ~3.2K

⌖ - Monte Carlo, Monaco

I’ve never flown private before, nor have I ever been on such a lively flight. The champagne flows freely, and the chatter is so loud I crank my headphones to maximum volume just to drown it out. The last time I was aboard a plane, I was tossing back flutes of champagne to numb the sting of losing my job. Weeks later, I’m flying private at an elevated position—my new reality. Unlike my more seasoned colleagues, I’m more unnerved than excited.

I check the ETA on one of the screens and go over the expected hotel arrival time, counting down the hours until the big race is over and I can finally relax. I take out my tablet, reviewing my plans for what feels like the hundredth time, searching for any holes in my outline. I replay the live feeds at an accelerated speed, scanning for anything that could derail my emergency plans.

“Lorence.”

Cassandra smiles, placing a flute of champagne in front of me.

“Cassandra.”

She folds her arms, giving me a knowing look.

“Please tell me you're talking to someone handsome and not reviewing your plans again.”

“I’m talking to someone handsome,” I reply, telling her what she wants to hear. She sighs, satisfied.

“Emergencies almost never happen, and you’ve planned for so many types—it’ll be fine.”

“Well, partying isn't going to help my nerves,” I explain.

“You’re almost as bad as Terry.” She powers off my tablet and takes the open seat beside me.

“Now I’m insulted.”

She giggles, leaning in conspiratorially.

“Also, never suggest staggered flights for operatives again. Your extra effort is already making you unpopular with the weaker links.”

“Unpopular? As if I have the boss’s ear or give a flying fuck.”

“That’s the spirit.” She nudges me playfully. “It wasn’t the majority, but Emerson tried to stir up trouble. Richmond shut it down quickly. That weasel is always looking for a win. Must’ve heard there’s no warmth between you and Terry.”

“The blind know that.”

“Good thing my mouth isn't big. Cause that suit try-on definitely was more Dubai heat than Antarctica frigid.”

I give her a warning look, but she only squeaks, enjoying my discomfort.

“I’m glad you're amused.”

“Ladies.”

Emerson approaches with a drink in hand and that cavalier smile. He’s one of the company’s top ten most attractive male directors—probably the best-looking among the single ones.

“Emerson.” Cassandra acknowledges him, but his attention shifts to me.

“Lorence, why don’t you come mingle with the rest of us?”

I blink, caught off guard. The only colleague I’m on a first-name basis with is Cassandra. I’ve known Joel long enough to consider him more of a friend.

“I’m a nervous flyer. I’m fine here with my headphones and Gordon.”

“Cassandra didn’t tell you we use first names?”

“Not everyone. It’s Cole's choice.” Cassandra interjects quickly, sensing my discomfort. “Cole, what would you like to be called?”

“Cole.”

“Cole it is.” Emerson forces a smile. “You make your friends call you Cole?”

“I didn't realize the two of you were friends.” Cassandra leans in with a smirk.

“I’m friends with all of my colleagues.”

“Hmm.” Cassandra’s brow raises with condescension.

“Well, Cole, we’ll chat once we touchdown.” Emerson flashes another smile before returning to the back of the plane.

“What was that?” I ask, narrowing my eyes.

“Emerson and I may or may not have had a few rendezvous. It also may have ended badly.” she shrugs.

I’m not surprised.

“How did it end badly - hypothetically?” I ask.

“I felt like he was trying to use me to get on Terry’s good side, and when that didn’t work, suddenly Terry and I were too close. Blah, blah, blah. I know how much he makes, and it is NOT enough to afford me full time. So I went cold. Hypothetically.”

Cassandra shrugs, completely unbothered.

“Don’t hmm me. We’re all gorgeous—you’re the only one who hasn't dipped in the office pot.”

We spend the rest of the flight gossiping about who’s been with who, and I’m astounded by the level of secrecy and professionalism. Five office flings had gone entirely under my radar. When the party dies down I turn back on my music and relax dozing off a little. I’ve memorized my routes down to the detail and the timing windows play in my subconscious in a loop. Twenty minutes until clearance, an hour until our clients are safe. I wake with the sun warming the Mediterranean coastline below.

The weight of my responsibilities dampens any excitement. The drive to our accommodations is short, and I snap photos for my parents. The group dinner is the last thing I want to attend, but the chefs' live show and five-star cuisine prove to be a welcome distraction. Afterward, I slip away to the terrace with a glass of wine in hand.

“Still going over the routes?” Richmond’s voice cuts through the night air. I know it’s him by the shift in energy.

“Yeah” I respond.

“If you don't trust yourself—and you should—you should trust the agents on the ground, the drivers, the armed agents, helicopters, and tech. And if you don't trust all that, there's still the local PD, Fire, EMS... and human nature. After that, it's an act of God, and none of us can contend with that.”

I exhale slowly.

“I just don’t want anything to go wrong.”

“When something goes wrong tomorrow, it won’t be because of you.”

“When?”

“When. It's inevitable.” His confidence is oddly reassuring, though I know better than to assign sentimentality to Richmond. “One of our clients could get wasted, fall over and break their nose, or have food poisoning, require medical attention or be robbed by hookers they’ve hired or local thieves. Something happens here every single year. Transport’s never been an issue and no one has approached it like you have” he says.

I nod, sighing deeply. “That’s some peace of mind.”

“It’s not flattery, it's the truth,” he responds.

“Has to be, flattery seems highly unlikely” I confess. “Maybe now I understand why you’re always so uptight - this is a lot on someone’s shoulders” I sigh looking back down into the city. I swear he snickers but by the time the lights flicker on above us signaling night is here it's gone from his expression.

“I’m the last person you need to worry about,” he says. Looking him over I concur - he’s probably experienced things my nightmares would have trouble conceiving of.

“So if it isn't stress then what is it? Just your natural disposition?” I ask looking away just in case his face shows disapproval.

“I can never tell if you're joking” he responds unappreciative of my sarcasm. The feeling is mutual, I can never read him either. There are too many things at play, this sizzling tension between us born of disdain, or misunderstanding, or the unbalanced power dynamic. His resistance to letting his guard down. Smiling, small talk, pleasantries or being kind. The silence lingers mostly because none of my responses are safe and could put us back at odds. “I’m not uptight,” he says finally.

“Pigs fly. Now we’re both lying” I remark.

“I’m not uptight, I’m what my position requires of me as the lead, founder and CEO” he explains. 

“Look, I'd better get some rest. I'm a mess of nerves and we already don’t get along well” I sigh, not wanting to get into it with him. He smirks this time.

“You’ll toss and turn all night if you head in now. Why don’t you change into something more comfortable and meet me in the lobby in ten?” he says, stopping me in my tracks. He looks harmless when he smiles. It withdraws into his usual disposition and when I turn Emerson is walking up behind me.

“Ok” I agree and he nods giving me a half smile that I know Emerson sees. I wonder if it’s to get my blood out of shark infested waters.

“Emerson” I nod, taking leave. I slip my heels back on once I'm off of the grassy terrace and head in. There’s a sprinkling of people, less than half of those who were at dinner. I head to my room and look myself over. I curse Cassandra when all of the outfits I have packed are transitional, appropriate for the beach, boat, dinner and anything else that may arise in a place like this. Blowing out a deep breath I opt for a black maxi dress. I grab a small purse and fill it with necessities. My reflection is date worthy, not following your boss around appropriate. I tie a scarf around my purse just in case it gets cool. When I arrive in the lobby Richmond is checking his watch and stands up like I've stood him up. He’s changed too into something more relaxed. 

“Sorry I’m late” I tell him once I've crossed the room. His eyes scan over me, his tense demeanour has returned.  “Am I dressed okay?” I ask.

“Fine” he nods. “I just thought we’d take a walk, go over your routes in person, put your mind at ease, tire the body, help you rest” he explains and it is such a simple approach I wonder why I haven't thought of it.

“I can walk in this” I nod and he leads the way. We walk alongside each other. It takes us about ten minutes to make it to the primary route we decided on. “Cassandra said, always look better than you need to while in Monaco” I tell him when the silence has stretched too long.

“That’s what that bill was about” he mutters to himself shaking his head. “I dont think you and Cassandra have the same objectives”

“I don't follow”

“Cassandra likes causing a stir and hooking big fish” he says without condescension or condemnation in his tone as we walk. “Wherever we go” he adds, making a left. I see he’s memorized the route as well as I have.

“I bet she’s a great decoy” I think out loud.

“She is,” he nods, leading us onto the main road. It’s brighter along this path, I smell food and hear music and chatter which is a good sign. We pass souvenir shops, restaurants, boutiques and tourists. There’s so much to see, it's distracting and I don't remember the last time I was in Europe so carefree. I take pictures of postcards and restaurants and send them to my parents. My mom will tell me what to try and my dad will tell me what cheesy thing they want.

“So, are you and your parents very close?” Richmond asks and I realize he has a birds eye view into my phone and no boundaries.

“Yeah” I nod. “They love to travel and my mom runs a food blog” I explain my actions.

“I’ve seen the food blog - she’s very good,” he remarks. Of course he has.

“She’d be happy to hear that” I say with a smile.

“How’d she get into it?” he asks.

“She had an empty nest, she put everything on hold to be a mom and wife. She retired early and I told her to go. It was like we both went to college together. She’s always been great but since it started she’s really happy.” I reflect feeling calmer at the thought of my folks. 

“We have contacts and so many unused vouchers, tickets, everything. You should ask Cassandra and use them up. Go with them too.” he says giving unconventional advice for a boss.

“Are your parents still around?” I ask and he tenses.

“My mom passed. Pops is still around. He’s married to Cassandra’s mom” Richmond says and it's a shock at first then it makes sense. “I was sure she told you.”

“She didn’t and I’m sorry about your mom” I respond he nods.

“It  was a long time ago,” he says. We approach a live band and he guides me in front of him. “Hold your purse close, it's a distraction for pickpockets” he explains, keeping me close until we’re out the crowd. We’re lower down now and closer to the water at one of the intersections I thought would have the most trouble. I assess it quickly before relaxing into my decisions.

“So is this what you recommend before a big gig?” I ask.

“No, I don't advise you to walk around at night in a foreign country,” he says.

“Now it's you who needs faith. We go through too much training to not be fine anywhere in the world that isn't war torn.” I remind him crossing the road. 

“If the richest men in the world need protection, what makes you think you're above danger?” he asks.

“I don’t think I’m above anything, I just dont think danger is likely.”

“You’re naive,” he comments.

“You're a pessimist” I respond.

“Realist. Men jeopardise their livelihoods and lives all around the world for women and sometimes men. Being alone at night is an unnecessary risk” he says, sounding like my father. When we make it to the beach the sound of the ocean is calming.

“Can we stay awhile?” I ask and he nods. I step onto the sand. My dress is too long so I take down my hair and use my hair tie to hike it up to my knees. There’s a breeze in the air but after all that walking it's not too chilly. My nerves are worlds better. I find a spot and sit down, feeling safe. I close my eyes and block out everything aside from the sound of the waves crashing and crackling sea foam. The air shifts and I catch Richmonds cologne as he sits beside me. I can feel his eyes on me but I keep mine closed. He probably thinks I’m crazy, maybe even too trusting given our history but I don't open my eyes until I'm ready. When I do his eyes are on me.

“Jameson told me you dont value your life” he says and I scoff.

“You can't care too much about yours if you joined the military” I shoot back.

“My father was decorated, he had me in mixed martial arts since I was five. I can take care of myself”

“So we have daddy to thank for this personality” I jest and he shakes his head instead of silencing me with a look.

“You really don't like it” he says, looking up at the sky.

“No I don’t, this is the most normal you’ve ever been with me since we met” I tell him.

“I’ve tried but you’re always running”

“Why were you so mean that first day?” I ask.

“It’s complicated,” he says, hardening.

“More complicated than using my trauma as a test?” I ask and he sighs.

“That wasn't my idea to push you and yes, that complicated” he affirms. “I was in a bad state, looked my worst and I found out my new recruit Lorence Cole is a woman,” he explains. 

“That’s a sexist admission”

“No. You’re my type Lorence. Cassandra knew that and didn’t tell me ahead of time. I was upset with her to make a point and short with you” he confesses and the way my cheeks burn im thankful for the nights forgiving lighting. Not was, not one of my preferences, you’re present tense my type.

“The next time your type walks in, try being kind. Most women don't like being barked at, frowned at, scolded. Do I need to continue?” I ask.

“I get the picture” he nods. Then there’s laughter down the beach and I see people laughing around a photograph.

“We should go see” I suggest getting up. I pat the sand off my dress and we make our way over to see caricature artists seated. 

“Come on, beautiful couple,” One of the women artists say.

“I don't want to” Richmond says motioning for me to sit alone.

“Not my boyfriend's bodyguard” I tell the woman in french and she smiles. Mischief lights in her eyes and I smile bracing for the worst.

“First time in Monaco?” she asks with a thick accent.

“Yes”

“Welcome! here for the races?” she asks.

“Yeah, a few friends wanted to check it out” I explain using my cover story and she continues drawing.

“Are you famous?” she asks.

“No” I laugh.

“Then why bodyguard?” she asks.

“He’s a friend who didn't want me out walking alone” I explain in french and she nods complimenting my speaking ability. I sit for another ten minutes and she stands finished. They count me down and when I get the photo I have to stop myself from laughing. I fold the photo immediately as the other artists cackle and pray Richmond hasn't seen it. If he didn't speak French too I’m sure he’d think I put her up to it. We leave the beach heading back on the path back to the accommodation when Richmond snatches it from my hand as I let my dress back down. He gets a full look of the photo of me looking like an angel in caricature form while he looks like an angry muscle man with ears so big they span to the margins. I giggle and he gives me a look of warning handing the drawing back. I’m surprised he doesn't rip it into pieces.

“Aside from the ears it's an accurate depiction of how scary your scowl is” I joke.

“Good to know” he mutters, the streets are more lively now and the party crowds are out. Leading the way gets too challenging. Richmond holds his hand back and I take it following him through the crows he can see over. He's a gentle guide parting the crowd for me with his size. My brain starts to run away with the information I’ve learned aided by the hand holding and a replay of the past few weeks. My realization shouldn't be as charming as it is. Richmond the decorated veteran and impeccably polished CEO has a crush … on me? He’s not to be played with, tall, handsome, well off ….. My boss. My thoughts hit a roadblock there. The uphill trek starts to become a battle and he crosses the street finding a cab stand. His French is impeccable as he orders us a cab barely fitting in the small European car with me. I get my hand back and find myself missing the contact. The ride back to the accommodation is short. When RIchmond and I clear the lobby he’s right I’m no longer worried about tomorrow or my work. This elevator ride is far less tense than last trip. 

“Thanks for walking me through my route” I tell him as he walks me from the elevator to my door. 

“No problem” he nods. “Last call is at noon if you want to see the parade and the royals otherwise you can leave at two” he reminds me of the schedule. I check my watch and see I have a lot of beauty rest to catch up on.

“Sounds good.” I nod heading in my room. I stop turning to face him. “Why don’t we start fresh tomorrow? My type is nice” I tell him and he gives me his first genuine smile.

“I’ll see you tomorrow Cole” 

“Good night Richmond.” I smile, shutting the door. I call Sin thankful for time differences and we talk for an hour about what it all means before I fall asleep.

Authors note: thanks for reading loves. things are heading up and these interactions are getting more and more fun to write. Are we here for the new developments?

008 ⇛

click here to ✮ join taglist ✮ and be notified when new updates drop.

[writingroom21]

The Nanny

Pairing: rafe x nanny reader

Summary: Being Wheezie's nanny was great. The only downside is dealing with the oldest Cameron, Rafe. What happens when his fascination with the nanny becomes a reality?

Warnings: 18+, oral (m receiving), p in v, unprotected sex (Practice safe sex), cream pie, slapping, chocking, squirting, use of daddy

Wc: 5.3K

Chapter 3: Guess we're both broken

Waking up the next morning, you tossed over to the otherside, noticing the sheets were cold. Peaking through sleep coated eyes you realize that Rafe is gone. Sitting Up you look around the room, his shirt and shorts gone as well. Not surprised that he was gone, a sinking feeling is in your chest, he used you. Once again you are left knowing that you shouldn’t have thought anything else. Should have known him being on his best behavior recently was just another ploy to sleep with you, knowing that he won. 

The rest of the day was spent moping around Tannyhill, grateful that you didn’t need to see him. Sarah being the only person you see when she stops by to get some of her things before running off again to stir up trouble. The day was so uneventful that you even decided to go to your parents cookout. Which turned out as awful as you expected it to go.

Reaching your childhood home you can see your neighbors scattered around the lawn. You notice your dad on the grill talking to one of the other dad, most likely talking about what rub or glaze he used this time. Walking around you greeted a few people who stopped you to ask how work is going. “That Cameron boy is causing you any trouble is he?” If only you knew, you thought. “No he’s not. They are all really respectful to me.” In hindsight it wasn’t a lie, they have been really nice making you feel welcomed. If the past two nights hadn’t happened you wouldn’t be so apprehensive to say it, but they did happen.

Everything seemed to be going well until you reached your mom. She was talking to some of her friends when she saw you walking their way. “Well if it isn’t my precious little angel. Hardly recognize you since we never see you.” She chuckles, trying to mask the insult with laughter. Taking a deep breath you give her a hug. “I know, I’m sorry. Been trying to visit but it’s been hectic.” Saying hi to the rest of the group was met with few words, some of them not replying at all. “How much work can it really be? The young one is practically an adult herself.” Your mom has a way of making everything you do seem insignificant or an inconvenience to her, your job being one of them. 

“You’d be surprised. Wheeze is a saint but she does give me a run for my money. I should go say hi to dad before he feels left out.” With that you walked off to greet your dad. The rest of the night was a never ending cycle of your parents making small jabs at you. Making you and the rest of the party uncomfortable every time they spoke. The cherry on the cake was when they pulled off to the side just as you were about to leave. “Sweetie, we need to ask you something and before you start getting mad you need to agree to hear us out.” Your dad says sitting on the couch looking at you, your mom next to him nodding along to his words. “Okay.”

“So you see we really need to fix up the house. You know how bad the AC is, you would have better luck keeping the fridge door open then that thing working.” Oh god you can already see where this is going, eyes rolling waiting for them to ask you for money. “Don’t roll your eyes at us, we are your parents.” Your mother scolded. “Anyway.” your dad continues. “We don’t have the money to get it fixed. The mortgage is barely even being covered as it is, we just need you to spot us some money. Just enough to get us going.” Taking a deep breath and cooling your nerves. “How much?” you ask.

“4,000.” Your eyes widen at the price, that's a whole month's worth of pay, let alone you don’t have that on you right now due to helping them out. “4,000? You need me to give you 4,000 dollars? By when?” The questions shootout at them. “Yes 4,000 and we need it now preferably.” So that’s why they invited you today, not because they miss you like they claim but because they need money. “I don’t have that kind of money on me or in my account.” “What do you mean you don’t have that money? What’s the point of working for some kooks if they don’t pay you well.” Your dad scoffs turning and looking at your mom. “What did I tell you? I told you she wouldn’t help us.”

This really can’t be happening right now. You have been working since you were 14 to contribute to the bills, every paycheck going straight into their hands. “I have been helping you. I’ve been helping you for the past six years with every bill in this house.” “We never asked you to do that.” Your mother rebuttals, taking another sip from the glass of wine in her hand. “Yes you have!.” you exclaim. “You are literally asking me for 4,000 dollars as we speak. Every time you ask me for money I hand it over without making a fuss, but this I can’t do. I have my own expenses, you know.”

“What expenses? All of a sudden you live in a fancy mansion and you’re too good to help out your parents.” Your dad’s words hurt you. You have tried to be their perfect daughter your whole life. The perfect grade, the scholarship, then declining the scholarship because they begged you not to go. Every life choice you’ve made has been to cater them and their wants. “Yes, dad, my expenses. I have my own car that I pay for by myself, a car loan as well, I even have to buy my own groceries. Then on top of that I send the both of you practically all of my paychecks. I’ve been scraping by trying to make it all work, why can’t the two of you just realize I can’t do this.” Your pleas fall onto deaf ears as they both get up from the couch. “If you aren’t willing to help us then there’s nothing left to talk about. You know where the door is.”

Watching as the walk away tears threaten to spill from your eyes. The drive back to Tannyhill seemed longer than it usually did. The conversation played on repeat throughout the whole drive. Parking your car you rush to the front door, all you want to do is lay in your bed and cry. Tears are already falling from your eyes as you close the front door. “Well what do we have here, country club? This that nanny you keep hiding from me?” You recognize the voice, you’ve seen and heard him around Tanny when Rose or Ward is gone. Barry is his name you think not really caring to find out you just walk down the hall. “Not much of a talker I see.”

“Leave her alone.” Rafe’s voice makes your ears perk up. Even though every muscle in your body is telling you to keep walking and not to look at him, you cave. Eyes meeting he can see the tears in them. “You okay, sunny?” You can’t do this right now, can’t get caught up in him just for him to leave once again. Without saying a word you brush past him, bounding up the stairs to the second floor. But before you can slam your bedroom door you can hear Barry talk. “The fuck you do to her?”

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The next morning you had yourself locked in your room just thinking. First about your parents and then about Rafe, then your parents and Rafe once again. It was torture having to sit in the room replaying ever interaction to see where things went wrong. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to tell you about the Rafe situation but it might for your parents. 

Looking at the clock by the bed you see that it's almost one in the afternoon. Deciding that you can’t sit her a mope for the rest of your life, you get up and get ready. Ward had given you a membership to the country club when you first started, he thought it would be better since you can accompany Wheezie when she goes. A nice relaxing day at the club, eating the fancy food is just what you needed.

It didn’t take long to get there or to find a seat by the pool, most of the people are on the golf course anyway. The only people by the pool are the wives that have kids and the teens who were there for the lifeguard. Stripping from clothes you are left in the red bikini you wore, you put on some sunscreen before laying down on the lounge chair soaking up the rays. 

The sun feels nice against your skin, the heat relaxing your tense muscles finally being given a break. After about thirty minutes you flip over allowing your back to tan, not wanting to be uneven. The sound of kids laughing and the busy club lull you into a peaceful mind. So what if your parents are upset? You have done more than enough to help them out over the years, you can’t keep digging them out of their messes. Who even knows where most of the money you send them goes, it’s definitely not toward the house.

So what if Rafe is a dick who just uses girls and dumps them to the side? You can’t control who he is and clearly he just wanted to hookup nothing more. All that you can do now is just keep to yourself, it’s better to protect your peace then being his new play thing. Then why does it hurt? Shaking off the thoughts you notice how hot you started to get. 

The sun is beating down on you, sweat forming on your skin causing you to stick to the chair. Getting up you head into the pool, the cold warmer cooling you off as you float. You didn’t know this but a few feet away on the dining patio sat Rafe with Topper and Kelce. Rafe was half listening while the two boys talked about something he didn’t care about. His mind kept bringing back the picture of your crying face from last night.

As soon as Barry left he went straight to your room but the door was locked. He sat there for a second and heard nothing from the otherside of the door, assuming you went to bed he left for his room. When he woke up this morning it was all that he could think of, seeing you like that hurt him. You looked like he did after his dad made him feel less of, the thought of you feeling like that made his blood boil. But showing you he cared shows that he needs you, that he actually cares for, that’s not who he is.

No Rafe is the type of guy that fucks everything in his life up, dropped out of school, is a failure to his dad and in relationships. That's what he’s good at, you’ll see it eventually so why even try? Looking out to the course, he can see the pool from here, looking at all the bodies laying around. The red swimsuit draws his eyes down your body, recognizing you as you walk out the pool. The water drips down your stomach, down your legs, but the droplet in between your breasts has him staring. 

Rafe isn’t the only one staring, the few teen boys are staring, then there’s the lifeguard. Rafe remembers him from school and doesn’t like the fact he’s staring at you. He watches as you dry yourself off, putting the shirt and shirt you wore back on. Looking as you gather your things and escape his view as you leave, the boys gather his attention. “Dude are you even listening?” His eyes move back to them “Yeah.” 

You make your way through the halls, carding through your memory to remember how to get to the dining. As you walk, members of the club look at you, judging you for the way your shirt has wet spots from your swimsuit and hair. You decide to sit at the bar not wanting to deal with anyone today. “How can I help you m’lady.” You put the menu down to meet JJ’s gaze. “Oh my god! Jayj hi.” You squeal, catching the attention of patrons including Rafe. 

“I haven’t seen you in a while. Joining the darkside has really changed you.” He looks around before leaning a bit closer. “How is it on the other side? Miss us already?” He teases. “Of course I miss all of you.” You playful push his shoulder, JJ raises his hands up in surrender before resting his body weight on the bar counter arms next to yours. Rafe stares in shock at the scene playing in front of him. You, his girl, flirting with fucking Maybank of all people.

He sees JJ push a piece of hair behind your hair and you giggle. The chair scraping against the floor alerted the boys, he didn’t even realize he was even up and walking over to the two of you. “Where are you going?” Kelce calls out to him. “I’ll be right back.” As he gets closer he can hear your conversation more clearly. “You should come to the bonfire this week. I’ll make it worth your time.” JJ flirts, Rafe coming up right behind you, the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. Looking over your shoulder you can see the look of anger on his face and the smirk painted on JJ's face. 

“Sunny! I didn’t know you were going to be here. Maybank why don’t you run along and get me another drink.” He says with a condescending tone, glaring at the blonde boy. “Rafe.” You say as a warning, already seeing how this is going to end. “What? I’m just asking the help to do his job. Right Maybank?” “I was actually helping out this beautiful customer. Ain’t that right baby?” JJ remarks getting closer to you. The look on Rafe’s face could probably kill JJ if he tried hard enough.

Rafe leans against the counter, his body facing you. “You really slumming it around with this loser? You like being around trash?” His comment made you see red.  How fucking dare he? You knew he kinda took the kook and pogue thing seriously but to call them trash. It’s like he forgets that you are also a pogue, that if it wasn’t for his father you would still be living on the cut with the rest of them. Which is true, he doesn't see you as a pogue or the help. 

To him you’re a kook, you belong with them, with him. “Yes I do. Now this trash is going to take itself out like the “help” do.” You say quoting help as a reminder that you also are the help. “I’ll see you around Jayj.” You tell the blonde looking at you with worried eyes before storming off. “Yeah see ya.” He calls out looking at Rafe for a moment. “Man I knew you were dumb but god damn. That’s the dumbest shit I’ve ever seen you do.” He laughs and walks away to go serve other customers. Rafe knows he’s right, potentially just fucked up whatever the two of you had before it actually really started. More than he has already done by ignoring you for the past day and a half.

He makes his way back to the table, the guys watching as he takes out a wad of cash and throwing it on the table. “I gotta go.” He exclaims, rushing to try and catch you before you have the chance to fully leave. Racing out of the building he sees you in the distance looking for your car. Jogging he catches up to you grabbing your arm and yanking you back to him. “Let go of of me!” You yell at him turning and pushing his chest hard. “No! Come one just talk to me.” He exclaims fighting you to make you stay and hear him out. “Are you kidding me? Talk it out? You just insulted me and my friend.” “No I insulted him. I wouldn’t do that to you.” 

You scoff pulling your arm free from his grip. “So calling him trash just because he’s a pogue doesn’t insult me? I don’t know if you’ve noticed but I’m also a pogue. I came from the cut just like he does. Does that shit actually really mean something to you? Are you that fucking stupid?” Rafe’s been called stupid many times in his life, from Ward, his sisters, hell even Rose has called him stupid. He knows that he makes things difficult and not many people like him. But hearing you call him stupid fills him with more rage then seeing Maybank think he can have his girl. “Hey don’t you fucking dare. Say whatever every the fuck you want but I ain’t stupid you fucking hear me.” 

He grips your cheeks, pinching them together. “Don’t you ever call be stupid again got it?” You should be scared, you’ve seen his temper before, seen him throw shit around the house or get into a fight with people at parties. You don’t know what to do being on the receiving end of his anger, then his words ring in your ear making you angry all over again. That ache in your pants is ignored as you wrench your head out of his hand. “I don’t know what your problem is but if you put your hands on me again you’ll regret it. You think just because everyone else is scared of you that I will be too? News flash buddy I’m not.” “Don’t call me buddy.” His voice was weaker than it was when he was yelling. 

“You don’t get it.” He states turning away from you and letting you go. “You’re right I don’t. You don’t talk to me for two days completely ignoring me after you got what you wanted. Then when I’m catching up with a friend you come in guns blazing as if the world is about to end. What’s wro-“ “He was touching and flirting with you.” He cuts off your rant, stunning you into silence. “So what if he was?” Rafe’s eyes darken hearing you defend him, telling him you actually enjoyed the attention that you were getting from another guy. “So what?” He laughs differently from his normal one, darker than what you are used to.

 “You really think I want some other guy touching you? Do you fuck him too?” “You’re jealous?” You meant it as a statement but it came out more like a question. “Yeah I’m jealous. All those guys in there would give up all their money just to get a chance with you. You don’t know them like I do, they would jump at the chance to get with a beautiful girl.” This is the third time he’s insinuated you are beautiful in some way. “Well maybe I should give them a shot. You obviously” His lips crash to yours, not allowing you to finish. This is different from the other kisses you’ve shared, more intense. He’s trying to tell you he’s scared of losing you, a crazy thought considering you aren’t even his.

How can he feel so strongly for you than he already did? It’s no secret that he’s always had a thing for you but this is different. The thought of you leaving him for another person actually terrifies him. Everyone has left him and he can’t stand the thought of you being another person who walks away. You try fighting him again but all efforts die when his tongue makes its way into your mouth. Rafe has this effect on you that you can’t explain.

There was always this soft spot for him but now that the lines have muddled together it’s hard to separate your feelings. Arms wrap around his shoulder pulling the two of you closer to each other, bodies pressed together. He pulls away from you for a second allowing the two of you to catch your breaths.  “Get in the car. I’ll meet you back at the house.” Fully pulling away you straighten out your clothes that got a little skewed from making out. He goes to walk to his truck, you stop him. “You can’t just get upset like that and make a scene. If this thing between us is going to work you have to talk to me, okay?” Eyes softening looking at your expression he takes a step forward placing a kiss on your forehead. “Okay.” With that he walks away leaving you standing in the middle of the parking lot wondering what the hell just happened.

The both of you race back to Tanny, Rafe’s truck behind your car. Reaching the house, you make your way inside waiting for him to get here, you lost him at a red light on the way over. You go to the kitchen to get water, the sound of the front door opens, Rafe’s footsteps echoing through the hall. “You think you can just go around and flirt with people?” He’s standing in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest, white polo stretching around his biceps. “I thought we talk-” “No I’m not done.” He enters the room, staring at your body with dark eyes. “Strip.”

The grip on the water bottle tightens. “What?” Rafe is now in front of you, taking the water from your hands, whipping the stray drop on your lips. His thumb gently pulls your bottom lip before releasing it. “Strip and get on your knees. I need to teach you a lesson, I don’t like people thinking they can have what’s mine.” You look at him before following the instructions, staring up at him as he unbuttons his pants to take his dick out.

“Open.” You do without a second thought. “Good girl.” He mumbles, forcing himself in and setting a brutal pace. You have to catch yourself on his thighs just so you don’t fall, his hand holding you in place. Hips thrusting into you, your throat gladly accepts the intrusion, gargling on his length. Tears pooling on your bottom lashes, spilling down your cheeks, making Rafe go harder on you. “Look at you. A mess of spit and tears for my cock. Think maybank can do this for you?”

He’s still on about what happened at the club, to tell the truth you were too. His jealousy causes mixed emotions in you. On one instance you like seeing how possessive he was for you, on the other he resorts to insults to get his way. You give him a rough suck, eyes meeting his. “Fuck.” Rafe pulls out, yanking you up and bending you over the kitchen island. His body covering yours as he lines himself up, you're so wet that you aren’t worried about the pain. You were sure that he would fit, no preparation needed. “Told you I would bend you over and fuck the shit out of you.”

With that he slammed into you, moaning at the feeling of your walls stretching to accommodate his size. He halts when he’s ball deep, giving you a moment to gather yourself, only a moment. His thrust pushes you further into the island, sure enough to leave marks on your hip tomorrow morning. You don’t even care, he feels too good, the feeling of him stretching you is overwhelming. Whimpers keep leaving your mouth. Rafe grabs your arms, using them as leverage to fuck you harder as he keeps them pinned behind you back by one hand.

“Harder.” You moan out. Your body tingling from all the pleasure he’s giving you, your peak creeping around the corner embarrassingly fast. “Yeah? My little slut wants me to fuck her faster?” The degradation goes straight to your clit, walls fluttering around his length. He goes harder for a few minutes before pulling out, a whine of protest leaving you. “You don’t get to cum yet.” Rafe’s hot breath in your ear, his body heat leaving you too. 

He turns you around and hoists you onto the island, spreading your legs to step in between them. Left hand going to guide himself back into you, gliding across your fold to get you hip and bring you closer to the edge. In this angle he hits you deep, pushing against your cervix with each thrust.

Wrapping a hand around your neck, he squeezes lightly just enough to have your mind all fuzzy. You roll your eyes back grasping onto his bicep, manicured nails digging into his flesh leaving crest shaped marks. Rafe hisses at the sensation enjoying the flash of pain radiating in his arm. He starts fucking you hard, pounding into you having his dick spear into your g-spot. His unoccupied hand takes hold of your hair, pulling you till your foreheads are pressed together. His watch digging into the back of your neck, chested firmly pressed to each other, sharing each breath.

 “Squeezing my dick so fucking good baby. Can you hear how bad your pussy needs it?” Rafe moans out. You can, you’re so wet that every time he fucks into you squelching fills the room. You open your mouth but a particular thrust makes you moan instead. The hand in your hair retracts, your head leaning back slightly, it comes down on your cheek. It wasn’t hard enough to really hurt but enough to have pain heat your face. You moan liking the feeling of the smack, mostly just enjoying the fact that he lost himself to the point of causing a bit of pain. 

“You like me hitting you baby?” When you moan he smacks you again, annoyed that you won’t speak. “Use your words.” Rafe’s hand cupping your jaw staring at your fucked out expression, the hand around your neck tightens as his pace increases. You’re wetness mixing with his pre-cum leaking out of you, making a mess between you two. “I like it sir.” It comes out more like a breath but it counts. “My good little girl. You gonna cum for me? Hmm cum for daddy.” The new nickname was the nail in the coffin, the tightness in your belly finally snapping.

 This feeling was a new thought. It was so intense and it didn’t feel like an orgasim that you’ve had before. Your walls squeeze rage so tight that it pushes him out of you, your release gushing out getting everything wet. “Did you just fucking squirt?” Rafe pushes his dick back in, fucking you harder than before. “Such a dirty fucking slut, squirting and getting everything wet.” Moans keep getting pulled from you, pouring out into his mouth as he sloppily kisses you. “Oh fu-fuck… I’m gonna cum. Where do you want it.” “Inside please.” 

If telling him to cum inside you didn’t make him cum, it was the please that did it. Rafe ruts into you, hips stuttering as he fills you with each squirt of him cum. The warm feeling making you moan and flutter against him. He rides out both of your highs, hips finally stopping when they met yours, keeping you plugged. He want to stay there, wants to just feel you, wrapping his arms around your body. He’s enjoying knowing you are stuffed full of him, that his cum is so deep that it's forced out around him. Pulling out slowly you both hiss, you at the feeling of him spilling from you, and him as he’s fixated watching it come out. 

Kissing you for a moment, Rafe pulls away walking to the sink, wetting a rag before going back to clean you up. The touch is so gentle that it barely hurts. He helps you put your clothes back on dragging the both of you over to the living room. He throws himself down on the couch taking you along with him, pulling you closer . “What happened last night.” You hand playing with his shirt stops. “Huh?” Moving your head to his shoulder you look him in the eyes. “You were crying last night. What happened?” 

“Oh” Trying to shift away from him, being blocked by his arms tightening keeping you in place. “It was just some fight with my parents. It’s nothing.” “It is something, it made you cry.” You wish he would stop trying to pry, it’s not as if he cares. Honestly you expected him to flee once your clothes were back on. Pulling you to the couch was unexpected but asking you to talk about your parents was too much. Too personal. The lines of friendship and having feelings are already getting muddled as it is, this would just push it further. 

“Hey.” It’s soft, lips brushing my forehead before he places a kiss there. “You said we have to communicate, right? Talk to me.” With a sigh you tell him everything. How since you were barely able to work you gave them all your money last night. “They expected me to just hand over 4,000 dollars like it’s nothing. Then when I finally put my foot down I’m a disappointment. Nothing I do anymore is right.” Rafe’s hand rubs your arms trying to soothe you. 

“You aren’t a disappointment. If they can’t handle the fact you have your own life then fuck them.” You slap his chest lightly. “I’m serious. You’ve done more than enough for them, if they can’t see that then it’s their loss." A moment of silence, his words soaking in as you both lay there. “Thank you. I” You don’t know what else to say, fingers tracing shapes along his chest. 

“I know what you’re feeling. My dad um he always lets me know how much of a fuck up I am. I know what it’s like to be a disappointment, you don’t even come close.” The confession felt foreign on his tongue. Rafe never opened up to anyone about his feelings, anytime he tried he was met with a “man up” or “this is how a man handles things”, he’s scared of what you will say. He feels you slip from his arms, closing his eyes not wanting to see you leave him alone, trying to calm the burning behind his eyelids. 

“I don’t think you’re a failure.” Blue eye’s open to meet yours, there’s a hint of vulnerability from what you can see. You lean down pecking his lips, pulling away to get a better look of him. “You’re more than what he sees. It’s a shame he doesn’t take the time to notice.” It was your turn to leave him without words. He’s searching your eyes, your face, for any sign that you were lying. That you were pitying him after he devolved a hidden secret. He knows you’ve heard his Dad yell at him but this is different. 

He can put on a mask after talking to Ward when he has to see you. This time he tore the mask off, wanting you to see him without the facade. “I don’t think that about you.” “Huh?” You respond with confusion filling your face. “I don’t think that you’re trash. You are probably the best thing to come out of Outer Banks.” He’s not lying or at least you don’t think he is. The look in his eyes tells you that he actually means it so you smile down at him. “The best thing huh.” You tease. “Don’t push it.”

[after-witch]

Aisle 8A [Yandere L Lawliet x Reader]

Title: Aisle 8A [Yandere L Lawliet x Reader]

Synopsis: You're on your period, and your captor sits you down for a very special talk.

Word count: 1500ish

notes: yandere, kidnapped reader, reader has their period, misogyny, lots of period talk, L being a weirdo

It’s rare that you let your kidnapper see you squirm. Mostly because he’s admitting to enjoying the sight of you fidgeting on the couch or bed; apparently, all of your little body tics in such stressful moments are just absolutely fascinating.

So, whenever possible, you make your body sit (almost) perfectly still. You keep your face neutral. You bite back responses, swallow insults, and wait until you’re alone in the bathroom to cry. (Though you have speculated he may have a camera in there, despite the lack of proof, and his cagey denial.)

It works, most of the time. 

Except for now--for several reasons.

One being, you’re on your period. 

It’s not something you looked forward to pre-kidnapping, and it’s something that you dread intensely, post-kidnapping. Sitting in front of your captor while you bleed into one of the standard-issue pads you found in the bathroom--the thin, generic kind that are often stocked at public bathrooms--is certainly not the highlight of your day.

Two, and two is the primary reason for the way your body is currently shifting on the chair: L, your kidnapper, the person you hate most in the world, has presented you with a tray of assorted period products. Pads, of several sizes and materials. Tampons, the same. Period underwear. And a silicone menstrual cup, fresh out of a plastic wrapper.

Behind this tray, he sits on his own chair, knees pulled up, a small smile on his face.

He gnaws on the end of his thumb and looks at you with something akin to gleeful hope, and you’d like nothing more than to punch him in the face.

“Well?” He asks, voice lilting. “Aren’t you going to ask why I put these here?”

You’d like to ask him where he gets the nerve. But that would only feed his ego, you think. So you breathe in and out through your nose, slowly, carefully. You flex your fingertips and press your hands together on your lap.

“Why,” you say, slowly, carefully neutral, “do you have a tray full of period products in front of me?”

L beams. “Glad you asked!” He gestures across the tray, like you haven’t been staring at it for what feels like five full minutes. “I’ve been monitoring your last seven menstrual cycles--your menstrual bleeding cycles, in particular--and I have come to the conclusion…”

He leans forward, eyes wide, eager. “… that you are not adequately handling your period every month.”

You have put up with a lot of things during your months of captivity. The loss of freedom, of course. The lack of autonomy. L’s incessant, creepy staring. His tendency towards over-analyzing you. His love for mental games that leave you wanting to tear your hair out.

But this?

This is too much. Too far. 

Especially right now, with the awkward feeling of blood pressing between yourself and the pad, and a dull ache of cramps sitting low in your belly.

The snort that comes out of your nose would be fire, if it reflected how angry you’re getting.

“And how, exactly, am I not--handling my period adequately every month?” Even though you know he’ll get some special entertainment from your mockery, you can’t bite it back.

L grins again. “I’m happy to tell you my conclusions.” He reaches over to a side table, and retrieves a stack of papers. Your eyes go wide. No way. No fucking way. He didn’t--

He did.

He taps the stack of papers on the tray in front of him.

“I’ve calculated that during your active menstrual bleeding,  you are 57% more irritable than on days without bleeding. Although there are many ways to reduce your stress hormones during these days, you refuse to do anything except mope around.”

Your mouth opens, lips sticking to your teeth, but he puts up a hand before you can tell him that being fucking kidnapped is the reason you’re “moping around.”

“And yes, I have taken into account your… unhappiness with your current situation. While that should account for certain levels of your stress hormones, it doesn’t account for all of them, nor does it negate the distinct rise in your stress levels on these specific days.”

Your eye twitches. It actually twitches. 

“What else,” you bite out, teeth grinding, “have you calculated in that report of yours?”

He tilts his head, still smiling. He might look cute, if you didn’t want to knock his teeth out.

“Would you really like to know more? I don’t want to bore you. Ah, but if you insist…” He flips through the pages, until he lands on something he’d apparently love to share. “I’ve also discovered that your current pad use is simply inadequate for the flow and consistency of your menstrual bleeding.”

He can’t be serious. Nope. He can’t be. You must be dreaming. 

“Stop,” you mutter, cheeks blazing hot, chest almost equally so. “Just--”

“I think this is important,” he says, blinking innocently at you. “I’ve noticed that you’ve stained your clothing--undergarments included--several times, and when Watari had the sheets laundered, we spotted some--”

Nope. You’re not doing this. 

You stand up, body shaking, skin hot and flushed with embarrassment. 

“I’m not having this conversation,” you say, voice stilted, teeth grinding on the inside of your cheek to keep you from screaming. “This is weird.  You are weird.” Your hand points at him, vaguely, accusingly, but you drop it without fanfare. 

His smile tilts into the smallest of pout.

“It’s not weird to be concerned with your inadequate usage of menstrual products. That’s why I’ve arranged some samples for you,” he says simply enough. “So you can see which menstrual product is best suited to your size and flow. Personally,” he adds, looking down at the tray with mild fascination, “I’m interested to see if the overnight pads are really more absorbent than the daytime heavy flow. Shall we conduct an experiment to compare?”

“No!” The words come out practically shrieked, and you grab one of the cushions from the sofa and hug it close. Calm yourself, you think. Calm down. Don’t let him see you get mad. It’s what he wants. It’s probably the entire reason for all this---well, this. 

“I don’t need you to tell me what products to use. Or how to manage my stress. Or--whatever else it is you have in there.”

L pulls out another sheet of paper. “Well, I have also considered the effectiveness of your using microwaved towels versus a proper heating pad--which you could ask me for, but haven’t--and--”

It’s your turn to raise your hand and, to your surprise, he stops talking. 

“I’ve had my period every month since I was 11.” The inside of your cheek hurts--there will be a blister, and blood, soon enough. “You really, really think I don’t know how to handle my own period?” 

Maybe this is your attempt at giving him an out--a chance to apologize for being so unbelievably awful.To admit he’s wrong, in some small measure. Your hands tighten around the pillow, in hope--in anticipation?

His eyebrow raises; there’s a quirk of a smile on his lips. 

“That’s the strangest thing about all this. I calculated that you’ve had…” And the bastard actually recites the estimated number of periods you’ve had since you started puberty. “… in your life.” He taps the paper in front of him with one short, gnawed-on fingernail. “You really should have had a more logical plan for this by now.” 

The cushion bonks off the side of his head with unsatisfying softness, and you stalk away, intent on going into the only room in the house where you get any semblance of privacy--the bathroom.

“I forgive you,” he calls out, even as you walk away. “I know you’re only overreacting with this level of aggression due to the elevated level of hormones in your bloodstream!”

You can hear the smile in his voice as you slam the bathroom door. The mirror rattles. Your breath comes out in awful huffs, and angry tears prick at your eyes. Stupid asshole. Smarmy bastard. It’s like there’s no part of your life he won’t dissect, won’t turn impossibly irritating, and he’s just--

Your eyes land on the box of pads you’d found on the day of your first period here. It was a larger, plain brown box with a bar-code in it--he probably got it from some bulk place, hence the low quality.

Only now… 

The box is empty. There are no more pads, thin, shitty as they were. And you know you’re about to be finished with the current pad resting in your underwear from the feel of it. 

There’s a soft, playful knock on the door. He knew--he must have known the whole time it was empty. Probably knew you’d wind up storming off in here, too. 

“Did you decide which of these you liked best?” Even with his voice muffled by the door, the sticky self-assurance rings loud and clear. “I’m guessing you’ll need them sooner rather than later…”

Before you start looking for any object you might throw in his direction if he opens the door, he calls out again--

"If you've chosen the menstrual cup and you're worried about the insertion process, I watched the tutorial video and it's really very--"

You don't hear what he says in the end over your own muffled shriek into the nearest towel.

[jadeylovesmarvelxo]

You meet Eddie Munson, the guy who your brother Dustin idolises. It does not go well...

🖤

Why did you have the insanely stupid idea to drive your brother to Hellfire Club tonight? You could have been with Tiffany and Chloe watching Breakfast Club for the millionth time or Nightmare on elm street. Gossiping about cute boys or anything else than this.

Except you had agreed to drive Dustin to his dumb club and he hadn't stopped talking your ear off about d&d and Eddie Munson and whatever else came into his head.

You adored your little brother but the two of you were so different in the things you liked and most people were stunned when they learned that the two of you were even related.

Dustin ploughed on about Eddie and you struggled to keep up. You hadn't met the guy your brother idolised, of course you had heard of him. Everyone in Hawkins had heard of Eddie 'the freak' Munson but the two of you ran in vastly different circles.

Naturally you were a little curious about him, he was the leader and dungeon master of the Hellfire member club, you vaguely knew of what the dungeon master did in d&d, Dustin had tried to teach you about the game a few times and certain things had stuck in your head.

"Please be nice to Eddie. He's so cool and I don't want you embarrassing me in front of him" Dustin begs and you're slightly offended by this, you were always polite to Dustin's friends, even when the little nerds got on your nerves.

"I'm always nice" Dustin snorts at this and you glare at him. Butthead.

"I think you'll like Eddie, the rest of his friends are cool too. Besides it will get you out of the house and stop you moping about Jacob" you wrinkle your nose at the mention of your ex.

Jacob was ancient history as far as you were concerned... He really was a self centered asshole and you're glad you didn't take months to figure that out. You were still upset that he turned out to be such a douchebag.

You pull up at Hawkins High and Dustin rushes to get to the drama club. Okay, so the two of you were a little late... Like over ten minutes because Chloe called you and was having a crisis about what to wear for her date with Taylor but that couldn't be helped?

"Eddie likes people to be on time, I can't believe you made me late" Dustin huffs and you follow him inside, trying to tune out his attitude.

"Henderson, care to explain why you're late?" A voice snaps from where the rest of the team are seated. This must be Eddie, he's on a chair that resembles a throne and is clearly the person in charge.

Your eyes flicker over his ring clad hands, the leather jacket and curly brown hair. Big brown eyes narrow at your brother who's pink cheeked and stammering.

"Uh, shit...uh sorry Eddie" Dustin throws you a contemptuous look but you're too busy looking at Eddie.

He really was very attractive. Unfortunately he opens his mouth again and that thought vanishes like a puff of smoke.

"Spit it out Dustin. We don't have all night and I'm already behind which I'm pissed about, you little butthead"

Butthead? Hey, who was he to insult your brother. Only you got that honour.

"Excuse me, exactly who do you think you're talking to?" Eddie's gaze meets yours and they widen for a second. Then he smirks. He even has dimples which makes him even hotter.

Asshole.

"This is between me and Dustin. What's it to you?". He asks and it's so cocky that you march right up to him and Dustin groans.

"I told you not to embarrass me" he whines and you ignore him and focus on Eddie who's watching you with an amused look on his face.

"That butthead is my brother and I'm the only one who can speak to him like that" you snap and Eddie's grin widens.

"I didn't realise Henderson had a sister and that still doesn't explain why he's late" you ignore the way your stomach clenches when Eddie appraises you.

"That's my fault so yell at me. My friend had a few problems" Dustin rolls his eyes.

"Yeah, like finding an outfit for her date was a crisis" you shoot him with an icy glare and he quietens. Eddie's eyes crinkle when he smiles and he puts his hand on his heart in mock horror.

"Oh no, not the dreaded date outfit conundrum" you grow a little flustered and you scowl. Seriously this was the guy that Dustin adored? Steve, now you could get why Dustin worshipped Steve but seriously, this guy?

"He's great isn't he?" Dustin grins at you and you gape, were you the only one here who thought Eddie was a cocky asshole? A very hot one but still an asshole.

"Oh he's perfect...a perfect pain in the ass" you reply sarcastically but mutter the last part under your breath. Eddie still hears it and laughs as he settles back on his throne.

"You sure she's your sister Dustin? Seems she needs to remove the stick from her..." The guys laugh hesitantly and you level one last vicious glare at Eddie before you storm out.

"I'll pick you up at nine thirty Dustin" you call back to him and Eddie's voice follows you out.

"I miss you already princess"

Ugh. Asshole.

I might make this a series, we shall see 💞

[thedemoninme141]

Woeful Tooth. (set in the "Not A Bad Day" universe)

Summary: Wednesday doesn't want to go to the dentist.

Theme: FLUFF!!!

Pairings: Wednesday x Fem Reader. Theme: Fluff! Set in the "after dating" period.

Warnings: Root Canal?!?

Thanks for the insight @cobaltperun

You weren’t one to overthink—well, not much. But the subtle shift in Wednesday’s mood was undeniable. After dating her for months, you had come to learn every expression she wore, no matter how imperceptible it might seem to others.

And right now, something was wrong.

And while Wednesday Addams wasn’t exactly the conversational type, her words now came in curt whispers, that might not alarm anyone else, but it worried you.

In the past few days, her choices leaned exclusively toward soft foods like soups, puddings, and smoothies. And Wednesday eating puddings? That scared you.

“Mashed potatoes, Wednesday?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

She leveled you with a glare. “They are not mashed potatoes. They are boiled tubers, pulverized into an unrecognizable state… much like most victims in my books. I find their texture fascinating.”

“You hate soft foods,” you countered, leaning forward. “Last week, you said pudding was ‘an insult to the human palate.’”

She didn’t respond, instead taking an excruciatingly slow bite, her jaw moving in a way that looked… wrong. She was chewing… carefully?

“Oh my god. You’re in pain,” you blurted, a mix of concern and frustration bubbling up.

Wednesday’s hand twitched, the only sign that you’d struck a nerve. “Your imagination is as dramatic as Enid’s wardrobe. I’m fine.”

“She’s not fine,” Enid chirped from her side of the table, “She’s been super moody these days.”

You shot her a look. “When isn’t she moody?”

“Good point.”

Wednesday stood abruptly, her chair scraping against the floor. “If this riveting discussion of my character flaws is over, I have more pressing matters to attend to.” Without another word, she strode off, leaving you and Enid.

You didn’t confront her again until later that evening in her dorm, “Alright, spill it.”

Wednesday raised a single eyebrow, still not looking at you. “I’ve spilled nothing.”

“You’re acting weird.”

“Am I?”

“Yes, weirder than usual. You’re always quiet but how did you get quieter than quiet? And don’t get me started on your sudden love affair with soft foods. Care to explain what’s going on?"

"Is this a lovers’ quarrel? Do I need to—" Enid just entered the room,

"Enid, no," you interrupted. "Enid, yes," Enid countered, smirking. You ignored her and turned back to Wednesday. "I’m serious. Tell me what’s wrong. You’ve been eating soft foods, avoiding anything crunchy, and barely talking. That’s not you.”

She didn’t respond.

“Wednesday.” Still nothing.

“Enid, start blasting pop music until she cracks.” You ordered,

"On it mam," Enid smirked going for her laptop.

At that, Wednesday sighed—an actual sigh—and turned to face you. “You are as relentless as the Grim Reaper, though far less charming.”

“That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

Her lips twitched, almost imperceptibly. “If you must know, I’m experiencing a mild inconvenience. It’s nothing worth discussing.”

You tilted your head, studying her. “Define ‘mild.’”

“An intermittent, dull ache.”

“In English?”

She scowled. “A toothache.”

“Wait, you have a tooth problem?” Enid’s grin widened. “This is hilarious.”

“I fail to see the humor,” Wednesday deadpanned.

“I’m calling the dentist,” you announced.

“No, you are not.”

“Oh, yes, I am.”

“You’re being ridiculous.” She crossed her arms, “Pain builds character.”

“Pain builds cavities if you don’t deal with it,” you shot back.

She raised an eyebrow. “Perhaps I enjoy the pain. It’s a constant reminder of mortality, a delightful ache that—”

“Stop. Just stop,” you interrupted, pinching the bridge of your nose. “You’re not romanticizing a toothache right now.”

“You are overreacting,” she said coolly.

“And you’re underreacting!” you replied, unable to hold back any longer.

Enid laughed. “This is way better than the TV shows Yoko watches.”

You pointed a finger at Wednesday. “If you think I’m letting that tooth-problemed mouth anywhere near my things—” “What things?” Enid interrupted. You ignored her, focusing on Wednesday’s icy glare. “—then you’ve got another thing coming.” Wednesday stood abruptly, somehow towering over you despite her "height".

“I refuse to be dragged into some sterile torture chamber.”

“Oh, you’re being dragged, alright.”

You grabbed her hand, your grip firm despite her half-hearted attempts to wriggle free.

“This is a violation of my autonomy,” she hissed as you pulled her toward the door. “You’ll thank me later.” “You’re insufferable,” Wednesday muttered. “I love you too,” you replied Behind you, Enid called out, “WHAT THINGS?”

"This place reeks of mundanity," Wednesday muttered. You sighed, gripping her hand, which she allowed but did not return. "Wednesday, it’s a dentist’s office, not a dungeon." "I would prefer the dungeon," she replied dryly. Before you could respond, you heard the assistant's voice, "Wednesday Addams?" "That’s us," you said, standing and tugging Wednesday up with you.

"Well, I have some good news and some bad news," The dentist began. "Start with the bad," Wednesday said flatly. "Your tooth isn’t just decayed—it’s broken."

You blinked. "Broken? What do you mean broken?"

"It looks like it was fractured with blunt force—something hard enough to crack it deep into the root. That’s likely why you’ve been in so much pain."

You whipped around to face her. "Blunt force? What the hell, Wednesday? What did you do?"

Wednesday’s eyes flicked to you, her expression carefully blank. "Nothing of note."

"Wednesday…"

"I fail to see how this line of questioning is relevant," she replied.

You opened your mouth to press further, but the dentist interjected. "I understand this might be a surprise, but for now, let’s focus on treatment. We’ll start with a root canal to clean out the infection and save the tooth. It’s a multi-step process, so today we’ll address the infection and prep the area. Afterward, we’ll schedule a follow-up to place a crown and finalize the procedure."

You sighed, realizing this wasn’t the time or place to interrogate Wednesday. "Fine. Let’s just get it fixed."

The dentist nodded. "Alright, Wednesday, I’ll numb the area first, and then we’ll get started."

Wednesday didn’t even flinch as the needle approached. Instead, she shot you a pointed glance, as if daring you to comment. "She’s handling this easily," The dentist remarked as she drilled the decay. "Most people squirm a little." "Wednesday doesn’t squirm," you muttered, half in admiration, half in exasperation.

After about half an hour, the dentist stepped back, wiping her hands. "That’s the worst of it done. I’ve placed a temporary filling, but she’ll need to return for the crown placement. I’ll schedule the next appointment before you leave."

"Thanks, Doc," you said, relieved.

"Avoid eating anything hard or chewy until the permanent crown is in place. And no blunt force trauma to your mouth, please."

You shot Wednesday a look. She remained silent.

The bus ride back to Nevermore was quiet, You sat beside Wednesday, leaning your head against her shoulder, exhaustion finally catching up to you. "That wasn’t so bad," you murmured sleepily, your eyes drifting shut.

Wednesday didn’t respond, her gaze fixed straight ahead. But as the minutes ticked by, her eyes softened, shifting down to you. Your breathing was slow and even, your face peaceful against her shoulder.

Beating those boys in Weathervane, who Enid mentioned had made comments about you, was worth it. Even if it had cost her a tooth.

[Author's note: Trying to improve my one-shot writings more, how do you feel about this one? You guys can consider this is set in "Not A Bad Day"s universe, prolly after you two started dating, maybe I can write a one set on how Wednesday asked you out]

MORE ONESHOTS HERE--->WORKLIST

[dissvicious]

Alone in Wano - 2 / 2

A/N: THANK YOU SO MUCH for how y'all welcomed the first part of this little flic, I was SO nervous about it and I'm really really happy that it made you feel things! here is the second & last part, thanks again @a-killer-obsession for beta reading, platonically kissing you on the mouth buddy ♥ No content warning but maybe don't read if you're not comfortable with pregnancy & delivery stuff, and KidLaw is mentioned as a joke, maybe light Wano spoilers too

Part 1

“NO FUCKING WAY IN HELL. I'D RATHER DELIVER ALONE BY THE RIVER AND LET MY NEWBORN DRINK WATER FROM KAIDO'S FACTORIES THAN LETTING YOUR EMO-ASS FINGERS ANYWAY NEAR MY CUNT SO BACK OFF.” 

Law looked up at the ceiling, passing a hand on his face and taking a huge breath. He pondered for a moment if he could just leave the abandoned house and leave Nina on her own without checking her up. He rubbed his temple, looking down at the small woman in front of him, and tried to calm his nerves.

“Stop acting like a moron, Pinky-ya. You've lost a lot of blood, and I have more important business to attend. Just let me check if the baby's doing well, and I'll leave you alone.” 

Nina pouted and crossed her arms - a face she used to make to wrap men around her little finger. However that somehow had no effect on this stupid depressive doctor. Maybe her big pregnant belly blocked her cuteness aggression abilities? Maybe he was just an ass. She tilted her head, studying his face. By some ways he reminded her of Wire, which made her nostalgic.

That's not how things were supposed to happen. When Killer - at least the man she'd mistaken for Killer - hit her with his scythes, she lost consciousness and barely remembered anything then. She woke up in the small cabin she shared with Hiyori and Toko, curled in her bed, an immense pain radiating from her lower half. Hiyori did what she could to stop the bleeding but it was clear she needed a doctor to check if the baby was alright. By chance, running to the flower Capital, they bumped into Law, who was looking for his crewmates. Roronoa pushed her against the black haired guy like some kind of heavy packet with a mumbled “needs a doctor for pregnancy shit, Torao” before walking away, leaving both of them flabbergasted, and here she was. 

However, she quickly made clear that in no way Law could approach her, let alone touch her or look between her legs. Each of his attempts to do so ended up with him being hissed at and insulted, her nails threatening to claw his eyes out. There was a persistent rumor running through the new generation that Law and Kid had a quick fling at Sabaody, and even if it was long before Kid and Nina met, even if she never met Law before and even if Kid always denied it, it was enough to fuel her jealousy and hate towards this stupid ass doctor and his stupid ass poseur tattoos and his stupid ass spotted hat. 

“Come on, Pinky-ya,” Law insisted, looking at her with all the softness he was able to gather - which wasn't a lot, “just let me do a quick check up and I'll leave. I'll use my power, I won't have to touch you. Let me check if the baby is ok, at least.”

Nina hesitated, nipping her lips. She caressed her belly and thought for a moment. As much as it cost her to admit it, Law was right. She was worried sick about her unborn child. Since the attack, she suffered from heavy cramps, and she had lost a lot of blood. Tired and worried, she decided to put her ego aside and gave up. She lied on her elbows, uncrossing her arms, silently agreeing to let him do so.

Law closed his eyes and mentally thanked whatever god was listening to him for her cooperation, impatient to be done with this feral girl who seemed to hate him for no reason - not that he cared a lot. He conjured a room and used Kikoku to inspect Nina's body. Immediately, he frowned. 

“What? Something's wrong?” Nina asked in a surprising soft voice.

“How far along are you in your pregnancy, Pinky-ya?”

“About 7 months, why?”

Law put down Kikoku and looked down at her, understanding at the moment that he was far from being done with this girl. 

“You're in labor,” he said bluntly, looking her in the eyes. 

Nina sat up immediately, gritting teeth as she felt an intense pain in her lower abdomen. 

“No,” she cried, “he's too small, he wouldn't survive.”

Law sat on his heels, pondering his options. They were alone, in an abandoned house. With his devil fruit he could stop the labor, but he wasn’t experienced enough with pregnancy to trust his abilities to do so safely. Not to mention the mother lost a lot of blood, and the probable placental abruption the hit induced. There wasn't any good choice in this situation.

“7 months, he has good chances to survive,” Law said, trying to be reassuring.

Nina shook her head, putting her hands on her belly as to protect it from him, tears flooding down her cheeks. “No, no. You’re a doctor aight? And you have some shitty doctor power, so use them to stop the labor, I can’t deliver now, I can’t do it.”

As Law looked down at her, he suddenly felt a wave of pity for Nina. With her hands on her belly and the mix of anger and fear in her eyes, she looked like a feral creature protecting her cub. At this moment, he understood that behind all this though girl attitude and aggression, she was probably deeply scared and anxious.

“Pinky-ya,” Law said with a stern voice, looking right in her bright green eyes, “right here and now the best option for you and your baby is to deliver. If he stays in, with the blood loss and without any good hospital around, I can’t ensure his survival. I’m not sure, but I think your placenta broke. If you deliver, though, I could use my ‘shitty doctor power' to check for any issue and heal them if necessary.”

Nina shook her head again, closing her eyes as tears flooded down her cheeks. She was terrified at the idea of delivering alone without her lovers, without her family, on a dirty floor in an empty house. “I … I can't do this I need Kid and Killer, I can't -”

Law grabbed her knees and looked down at her with a stern glance. “You can, and you will. I won't let you nor your baby die.” 

Nina held his glance, and something in his face provoked a change in her. For the first time she felt that her anger toward him might have been misplaced. It was clear that he wanted to do everything he could to save her baby, and that’s what mattered. She nodded weakly, tears flooding down her cheeks.

“Alright Trafalgar. I trust you.”

Next hour felt like a torture for both of them. 

Nina was lying on her back, gritting teeth and crying, following Law's instructions as he was trying to help the labor, looking between her legs, trying to fight the urge to run out of the house and vomit on the ground. He saw a lot of body horror in his life but it was the first time he helped with birth giving and to say the least, he wasn't comfortable with the whole thing. If it wasn't to save an innocent baby's life he would have left this shit behind him. 

After trying different positions to help the labor, he gave up and looked at her. “It won’t work. You're too weak after bleeding this much. We need to do a C-section”

Nina whined and looked down at him “Again?!”

“You already had a C-section?”

“Not much of a choice when you're 5’0” and have to deliver a 16 pound baby…”

Law winced. Two C-sections, in a short amount of time… that was risky. But with his powers, he could manage to make it safe for her and her baby. “Pinky-ya, do you trust me?”

Nina surprised herself when she realized the answer was yes. They didn't appreciate each other, that was clear. However, he still went out of his way, stopped as he was going to look after his men, because she needed help and he was the only one able to provide it. Her eyes met his, and a silent comprehension passed between the two of them. Law stood up and raised up his hand.

“Room,” he said with his deep voice, the house around them suddenly glowing in a blue light. He looked down at her, trying to locate her womb and the baby in it with as much precision as possible, using both his devil fruit and his Haki to help him do so. It was the first time he had to do something like this, and he was a bit nervous. 

He took a deep breath to steady, before turning his hand, fingers pointing up. “Shambles.”

What happened next mesmerized both of them. Without any pain or suffering, a round hole opened in Nina’s belly. Her baby, wonderful, amazing, the size of a regular baby despite being preterm, flew up from it, umbilical cord still attached to both of them as Law created a protective bubble around him to replace the amniotic bag. 

For a moment, the whole house went silent, Law and Nina both transfixed by the sight in front of them. The baby already had a mess of blonde hair on his head, leaving little to no doubt to who his father was. For Law it conjured bittersweet images, images of someone he used to know and loved like a father, in another life.

After a few moments, Law snapped back to reality, and used his powers to cut the umbilical cord, proceeding to check for any issues in the newborn before giving him to Nina. 

“I did everything I could,” he whispered, a hint of worry in his voice, “now, he has to scream.”

The silence that followed was deafening. Nina held her baby against her, cradling him softly. 

“Please,” she whispered, “please sweetheart please. Please scream. Please.” 

After what seemed like an eternity, loud screams and cries echoed in the house. Nina burst into tears, hugging her newborn baby, holding him carefully as if afraid to break him, humming the scent of his head, peppering kisses on his little face. 

She looked up at Trafalgar, who was sitting on the ground, catching his breath as well.

“Thank you” she whispered.

“No problem” he answered, and Nina could swear she saw him smile.

[cabotwife]

Can you do a Johanna mason x fem!ADHD!reader?? I love how you write Johanna.

All I've Ever Known

Johanna Mason x Fem!ADHD!Reader

warnings: poorly written, ooc Johanna(?), not proofread,

word count: 1230

a/n: i don't really like how this came out but i was just so happy to get a Johanna req again💔

𔓘

you’ve always had a noisy brain.

not noisy in the way that you or others can actually hear it. not noisy in a way you could ever really explain. just.. always on. jumping, flipping, running laps, tripping over itself. when you were younger, your mother said you think like wind; rushing past one thing to get to the next, never settling. your teacher called it “scattered.” your uncle, more bluntly, said you didn’t know how to shut up and sit still.

but out here in the forest, it’s easier. the trees don’t ask questions. the birds don’t mind that you forget what you’re doing halfway through doing it. the wind doesn’t care if your thoughts don’t line up right. out here, you can breathe.

you’re out there now, way past the bounds of what’s considered safe, when you see her. you weren’t trying to find her. you didn’t even know she was back.

she's stripping bark off a felled tree like it insulted her personally, one arm slick with sap, jaw clenched tight. you don’t mean to watch, but you do. it takes a second too long before she notices.

"what?" she snaps, without looking up.

you flinch, like she smacked you, but you don’t run. you never do, not even when you should.

"nothing," you say. not true. "just walking." kinda true.

the brunette straightens and finally looks at you. her eyes are darker than they looked on the broadcast, more tired, less shiny. realer.

"you’re from seven?" she asks bluntly.

you nod. "born here. i know who you are."

"then you should know better than to sneak up on people holding an axe."

she tosses it into the ground, not hard, but hard enough. you don’t know what to say, so you don’t say anything. just shift your weight, try not to look as jumpy as you feel.

"you always twitch like that?" she asks after a beat.

heat crawls up your neck. "only when i forget i’m being watched, i guess."

that gets a half-smile out of her. it's not soft by any means, but it’s something.

"i’m done here," she says. "walk me back, if you're not too busy wandering."

you follow without thinking.

𔓘

you see her again the next day.

you’d say it’s a coincidence, but you don’t believe in those. not anymore. not since the games started shaping every part of this country like a boot pressing into mud.

she’s sitting behind the supply shed near the old lumber plant, chewing on a splinter and staring at nothing.

"you always hang out behind buildings?" you ask before your brain catches up.

she glances sideways. "you always ask questions you don’t have rights to?"

you blink. "i didn’t mean to. i just… blurt things."

"no kidding."

you consider leaving, but something in her tone isn’t as sharp as her words. so you sit down beside her. y’know, like a sane person.

the silence is weird at first. heavy. you’ve never been good at it. but johanna’s not fidgeting, not talking. just existing. so you try that too.

eventually she says, "you talk too fast, you know that?"

"yeah."

"you think too fast, too." is she in my head now? can she hear it?

"…yeah."

another silence. it doesn’t feel quite so weird now.

"you always been like that?"

you nod. "people don’t like it much. i get on nerves."

she huffs a laugh through her nose. "welcome to the club."

you don’t talk much after that. just sit. and that’s fine.

𔓘

you start seeing her more. not on purpose.

okay, maybe a little on purpose.

she's not hard to find, but she’s hard to read.

sometimes she talks. sometimes she doesn’t. you get used to both.

sometimes your mind races so fast you forget what you were saying halfway through a sentence, and she waits for you to catch up. doesn’t laugh. doesn’t pity you. just waits.

sometimes she tells you things you don’t expect her to; about how she hates the way people look at her now. like she’s broken. dangerous. crazy.

you don’t say anything to that. you just nudge her knee with yours. she lets it stay there.

𔓘

one night you’re both out in the woods. it’s cold. your hands are shaking and she notices. of course she does.

"you okay?" she asks.

"yeah," you lie, too quickly.

she doesn’t press. just shrugs off her jacket and tosses it at you. you catch it just barely.

"thanks," you say. "you’re nicer than you pretend."

she snorts. "don’t tell anyone. ruins the brand."

you sit down beside her on a flat rock that smells like moss and smoke. the moon is big tonight. your head feels quieter out here. still not silent, but closer.

"ever feel like you don’t fit in your own skin?" you ask, quietly.

johanna turns toward you, and there’s something sharp in her face, but not cruel. not aimed at you.

"every damn day."

you look at her. she’s not pretty in the usual way. not soft. not delicate. her beauty’s carved from bone and scars, from fire and splinters. but when she looks at you like that, like she sees every splintered corner of you and doesn’t flinch, you think maybe it’s the only kind of pretty that matters.

you lean your head on her shoulder before you can overthink it. she goes still for a second, then rests her cheek lightly on top of your head.

you sit like that until your thoughts stop chasing themselves in circles.

𔓘

she kisses you the first time without warning.

you’re mid-sentence, rambling about something, probably tree frogs or fungus or a dream you had last night where all the victors were made of wax and melting— and she just leans in and shuts you up with her mouth.

it’s not soft. it’s not neat. it’s like everything else about her — fierce, impatient, real.

when she pulls back, your brain short-circuits.

"sorry," she mutters, looking away. "you were spiraling."

you blink. "so you decided to kiss me?"

"you want me to take it back?"

you shake your head fast enough to make her laugh.

"didn’t think so."

𔓘

you don’t talk about it after that. not really. you don’t have to. something shifts between you, subtle, but there.

you still talk too fast. still get distracted mid-conversation. still twitchy, still messy, still too much. but she never tells you to stop. never makes you feel like a problem to fix.

she listens.

she stays.

one night you’re lying in the grass near the edge of the district, looking up at the stars. you’ve been ranting about something stupid, how birds shouldn’t be able to sleep while standing, how unfair that is, and johanna just murmurs, "you know, i like the way your brain works."

you go quiet.

"you do?" you ask, unsure if she means it. if she’s making fun of you.

she rolls onto her side, presses her hand to your chest like she’s grounding you.

"it’s a little like mine. loud. a mess. but honest. sharp. alive."

you don’t say anything. your throat’s tight.

she kisses your collarbone, then your jaw, then your mouth.

and you think, maybe this world never gave you a place, not really. but maybe johanna’s the one person who sees your broken edges and doesn’t try to sand them down.

[klarolinexluv]

No matter who you ship her with, the other is always down bad for Lily Evans because they don’t take lightly to someone messing with her.

James Potter? Well that’s self explanatory. He’d do anything she asked, anything. Nothing is too big or small. You wrong Lily and James is looking over her shoulder with the biggest grin, the kind of grin that is terrifying to see because rage is burning in his eyes. You’ll know he is planning something but you will never know what until it’s too late.

Regulus Black? Would kill for her, without question, without hesitation. He would go to any lengths, any means necessary to protect and love her. You say something remotely negative against her, (like whispering she has weird hair or something) and you will find yourself in a world of trouble. The rumours that come out about you will be unstoppable and so believable. You wouldn’t even know who started them but Lily knows.

Barty Crouch Jr? Would also kill for her but would deny he ever did it to everyone including her. Barty is so unhinged in how he looks after what he perceives to be his and Lily is no different. Think Regulus but without any restrictions/restraint (because Reg never goes too far, Barty crosses that line gleefully).

Evan Rosier? You said something he didn’t like about Lily? Damn, I hope your aunt recovers from that horrible poison she’s suffering from. Your best friend is ill? How worrisome, here give them this cookie. Nothing bad will happen, promise. Oh, you’re struggling in a class? That’s too bad, here have this potion, it helps with focus… no there aren’t any side effects, don’t worry about it.

Pandora Lovegood? You don’t see her coming until it’s too late. She will tear anyone a new one simply for looking at Lily wrong. You don’t even think that she will do anything, she’s so nice and sweet and suddenly you are hanging from your ankles outside the great hall with no way down, you’ve been there all night.

Mary MacDonald? You will never escape her glare. EVER. You slight Lily once and Mary will hold a grudge for all eternity. She will constantly bring up things that embarrass you casually into conversation and act like that was a normal topic to talk about. She’ll basically make your life an uncomfortable mess until she grows bored of playing with you. She will never forget what you did and she will randomly start up again later just because she can.

Narcissa Black? You will never step foot outside your house ever again. Your reputation would never recover. You’d be the laughing stock of society. People will stop talking when you approach them. You’re social life would be so awkward to nonexistant. And Narcissa will catch your eye and smirk so cruelly, you’ll quickly leave without second thought.

Marlene McKinnon? She is constantly around you for some reason. Constantly lurking. She offers to be your partner in class and has a glare so strong that nobody argues. She is constantly making snide remarks to your face about you. Little things that will get on your nerves. Marlene makes your life unbearable and then when it gets to a point where you are going to break, she’s suddenly gone. You are left on the edge of your seat waiting for the other shoe to drop. She’ll pop up every so often just to keep you on edge.

Dorcas Meadows? She isn’t afraid to use her beaters bat. It’s not that she carries it around her all the time but it definitely feels like it. She never makes the threat, not verbally anyway. But she’ll stare you down with her bat in her hands, swinging it or just playing with it to make the unsaid obvious. Once on Dorcas’ shit list, it is very hard to leave it.

Remus Lupin? He is the type to sit back and wait. Let you make the mistake of insulting Lily and then he will watch as your life falls apart. You worked for hours on an essay but now it’s missing? Oh and it’s due tomorrow and it’s like the biggest paper for your grade? How awful. He’ll make you think you are losing your mind, constantly moving or taking your things without you noticing and putting them somewhere else. He’s pulling Lily to his chest and glaring so coldly over her shoulder, most if not everyone will be scared off.

Sirius Black? He will prank you. Without mercy. And you will know he is pranking you because he is always there when it happens. Itching powder in your clothes. Dungbombs in your bag. Hexing your shoe laces together. Sticking charm on your seat. Everything. He will hold a grudge for the rest of his life, you wrong the people he calls his own, especially Lily and you will never know peace again. Sirius would also go to extreme lengths to make Lily feel protected and loved.

[missanthropicprinciple]

I am....fascinated...by this exchange in This Side of Paradise...

Kirk, armed with a large metal bar, watches Spock materialize in the transporter room. Jim lashes out to release Spock from mind-altering spores.

Kirk: "Alright, you mutinous, disloyal, computerized, half-breed, we'll see about you deserting my ship."

Kirk knows Spock is probably the most loyal officer on the ship, knows Spock has emotions he just doesn’t express them in the same way everyone else does, and using the term half-breed is something a bigoted jerk might think or say.

Spock: "The term half-breed is somewhat applicable, but computerized is inaccurate. A machine can be computerized, not a man."

Kirk: "What makes you think you're a man? You're an overgrown jackrabbit, an elf with a hyperactive thyroid."

Kirk is clearly resorting to childish jibes because he can’t think of anything to really criticize him for.

Spock, chuckling: "Jim, I don't understand."

Spock is laughing at this point because he knows this is not how Kirk normally acts, so he figures it's a joke or a game.

Kirk: "Of course you don't understand. You don't have the brains to understand. All you have is printed circuits."

Spock is arguably the smartest person Jim knows and is not simply like a computer.

Spock: "Captain, if you'll excuse me."

Kirk: "What can you expect from a simpering, devil-eared freak whose father was a computer and his mother an encyclopedia?"

Kirk is almost talking nonsense, saying whatever pops into his head. The choice of the word simpering is interesting because Spock ingratiates himself to Kirk somewhat but not in a coy way, and Jim knows he’s not a suck-up. Jim doesn’t act like Spock is a freak at all and defends him. He also doesn’t even say things about his ears much or in the same way Bones does.

Spock: "My mother was a teacher. My father an ambassador."

Spock is still calm as he would be generally when insulted but the hint of humor in his voice is fading.

Kirk: "Your father was a computer, like his son. An ambassador from a planet of traitors. A Vulcan never lived who had an ounce of integrity."

Jim is using the word integrity because Spock has great integrity both personally and because of his Vulcan upbringing. This is starting to touch a nerve.

Spock: "Captain, please don't."

Spock is now asking Jim on an emotional level not to hurt him. He is only offended where there is feeling and of course he has deep feelings for Kirk, even if you interpret it as friendship.

Kirk: "You're a traitor from a race of traitors. Disloyal to the core, rotten like the rest of your subhuman race, and you've got the gall to make love to that girl."

It's really interesting that Jim is using the term "make love". From what I remember he doesn't use that phrase to refer to romance or sexual activity, usually referencing sex more obliquely. I could psychoanalyze this that maybe Jim wants to be the one either making love to the woman, being made love to in general, or wants Spock to make love to him. And again, Spock is extremely loyal and not just to Jim. Also, Jim doesn’t consider Vulcans to be sub human, shows them respect, and knows who T’Pau is.

Spock: "That's enough."

Kirk: "Does she know what she's getting, Spock? A carcass full of memory banks who should be squatting in a mushroom, instead of passing himself off as a man? You belong in a circus, Spock, not a starship. Right next to the dog-faced boy."

"Passing himself off as a man" is a particularly painful remark, but again Kirk often defends him against bigotry, talks about how important Spock's human side is, and repeatedly makes testimonials about how much he values Spock. And of course Jim must know Spock is objectively handsome. "Does she know what she's getting?" is interesting too. It could imply that Jim is asking "Does she know what an incredible man she's getting? Will she value you like I do?" but then he turns it into an insult.

Spock bends the metal bar with one blow and bashes Kirk around the transporter room for a bit before Spock suddenly realizes the spores are gone, broken like a fever.

Kirk: "Had enough? I didn't realize what it took to get under that thick hide of yours. Anyhow, I don't know what you're so mad about. It isn't every first officer who gets to belt his Captain several times."

It seems like Jim is saying it took a lot of effort for him not just to figure out what would push Spock over the edge but what to even say to insult him in the first place.

Spock: "You did that to me deliberately."

Spock, to the best of my knowledge, never says someone does something to him. He is also saying that he understands it was a calculated attack and not one stemming from impulsive emotional anger, therefore revealing Jim's true feelings.

Kirk: "Believe me, Mister Spock, it was painful in more ways than one."

Obviously this is played as a joke because Kirk is a pretty battered, but I would like to think it's because Jim truly regrets saying those words. It's written as dual meaning for comic effect but I like to read emotions into it when I can.

Spock: "The spores. They're gone. I don't belong anymore."

This is so sad. Even though the spores are gone he still reveals an emotional response. Luckily Spock does belong on the Enterprise.

Kirk: "You said they were benevolent and peaceful. Violent emotions overwhelm them, destroy them. I had to make you angry enough to shake off their influence. That's the answer, Mister Spock."

Spock: "That may be correct, Captain, but trying to initiate a brawl with over five hundred crewmen and colonists is hardly logical."

Kirk: "I had something else in mind. Can you put together a subsonic transmitter? Something we can hook into the communications station and broadcast over the communicator?"

Jim is not directly addressing the fact that he did this to save Spock. He didn't want to lose him. Yes, he needed Spock to help him save everyone else but Spock is important to Jim personally and belongs with him on the Enterprise.

Spock: "It can be done."

Kirk: "Good. Let's get to work."

Spock: "Captain. Striking a fellow officer is a court martial offense."

Kirk: "Well, if we're both in the Brig, who's going to build the subsonic transmitter?"

Spock: "That is quite logical, Captain."

Jim is going back to his usual way of communicating with Spock: kind, almost jovial, focusing on logic, and giving Spock a purpose because he really needs him as a colleague. He's happy to have Spock back to normal. While Spock regrets losing the spores and his sense of perceived belonging, Jim values Spock in the way he's always known him: Vulcan and human, taciturn and logical.