#but even if i thought differently it's not as if a difference would have been there </3 i'm just one girl (nier reference)

[creatingblackcharacters]

“Why’s she so rude?” (She’s Not)- Stereotypes, pt2

So I'm sure that you all thought I was going to give a blow-by-blow list of "visual stereotypes to avoid". I'm going to be honest here, I thought about it, and figured it would be redundant. My page already includes sensitivity on depicting Black people. So instead, I'm going to focus on stereotypical "character" concepts, so that you can 1) not write it in your stories and/or 2) recognize it in media (fiction and reality!) and in life!

Two major resources: the Jim Crow Museum website is an EXCELLENT resource to understand the imagery of antiblack racism in U.S. history and society. The other, White Tears, Brown Scars by Ruby Hamad. The book focuses on the many racist stereotypes projected onto women of color and how that purposeful, systemic negative perception of us bleeds into every aspect of our lives- specifically by white women/white feminists who believe that they are not contributing to said oppression.

I'll start with Black women, just because I’m passionate about it (obviously) and there are so many things I wish I had and hadn’t seen growing up. We deserve better by the year of our lord 2024.

TRIGGER WARNINGS: mention of sexual assault, assault

Misogynoir

What I want everyone to understand, before I get into this, is the concept of intersectionality, and more specifically, misogynoir. Misogynoir is the specific type of contempt and prejudice that Black women face at the intersection of race and gender. I say this because you might read these things and go “oh, as a woman, I experience these things!” I get it, but I want you to PAUSE, and remember, that right now, we are talking about Black women’s experiences. And those will often be different, due to that intersection of identities. And that understanding will have an effect on how you understand (and thus, write) those experiences.

The Jezebel

The link goes into much deeper detail, but the Jezebel is the idea that a Black woman or girl who is sexual is somehow “fast”, “salacious”, “a hoe”, “driven by desire/doesn’t understand purity”, and at its worst, unable to be r*ped/a victim because she is less valuable yet somehow inherently seductive to men.

This gets thrown around CONSTANTLY in media and life for Black women (my first experience of treated like I was ‘fast’ was when I was like… twelve?) One major, visible example is Megan Thee Stallion. Meg has a college degree, she likes anime, she’s a brilliant rapper, and has an entire personality and struggles she’s shared… But she also likes to dress scantily clad and have sex. By doing those things, she ‘lessened in value’. And because of this, when she was shot at and assaulted, even Black people questioned her character, rather than understanding that she could have been anyone, and she still wouldn’t have deserved to be assaulted. She's not allowed to be multi-faceted; she "brought it on herself".

Black girls and women who happen to take charge of their own sexuality, to the discomfort of society, are treated as Jezebels- as whores. Think about it- if one of Taylor Swift's recent boyfriends shot at her, would the media question her value or her word? Question her equivalently high ‘body count’?

Question how you write your Black woman- she can enjoy sex! She can be sexy! We love to see it! But if you're punishing her specifically, or judging her within the narrative, versus your other characters who are allowed to safely explore and act upon their sexuality… Check your judgment! Why do you feel the way you do about this character? Why do you think that your Black character is the one that should be judged for her actions. Would you feel this way if it were a nonblack character?

The Sapphire/Angry Black Woman

Ohohoho, I have infinite amounts of feelings about this one.

This is the "sassy Black friend", the "aggressive Black boss", “step on me angry mommy”, the one who does the z formation and makes everyone "uncomfortable". She’s not allowed to be confident, assertive, or self-assured- she’s arrogant, rude, and aggressive.

I discussed it in part one, but I'll reemphasize it: your Black woman doesn't have to be an ‘Angry Black Woman’ in order to be angry! Just like any other human being on the planet, we are allowed to be mad. (In my honest opinion, we have a lot to be mad about, but I digress 😅)

If the only character that ever gets angry is your Black character, I want you to consider why. What is she angry at? Was this something you wanted the reader to understand or empathize with? Are we supposed to disagree? How does everyone around her treat her anger? Is her anger righteous? Is she always shut down or dismissed for it? Is it only meant to defend her friends, but never herself? Does the narrative suggest that it’s only good in use of others and not herself? Would this be the same reaction if one of the nonblack characters was angry? Is this something you did on purpose?

Very often, we're called 'angry Black women/girls' to invalidate our emotions. My therapist once said anger is a protective emotion. We might be hurt, overstimulated, sad, depressed, frightened, anxious… But we are often not allowed the grace of others digging deeper to see that. Even if the other characters do not understand her anger, even if her motives are not meant to be understood at the moment… you as the writer should be aware. But if every time it’s time to show anger or upset, it’s your Black character… consider why this is the one you thought would best convey that message, and how your Black readers might feel seeing that this character (who may not even be the ‘bad guy’) is the one that is ‘only’ angry. No other development, no other emotions, just… there to be mad.

I take this one to heart, as someone who feels very passionately about things… this is one of those things where I wish, in life and in media, people would have more grace for Black women. We're human, too. We have feelings, too.

The Mammy

This one isn’t as visually blatant anymore in media as it was in the past (like every Mammy doesnt look like Aunt Jemima), but you may have seen this one as "the mommy figure". The "lesbian that parents the silly gay boys". The one that’s always encouraging the ship of the white boys, but never the one allowed to be in the ship (especially when her ship is canon!)

A good example of this was how people expected Jessica Drew from ATSV to be "more loving" to Gwen, rather than the mentor and boss she was (plus, as a Black woman with a Black mother… trust and believe, she was quite direct and gentle). And in comparison to her counterpart, white man Peter B. Parker, was decried far worse for similar detrimental actions.

The Mammy often serves in opposition to the Jezebel and Sapphire/Angry Black Woman. What makes the Mammy particularly annoying is that it implies that the only good Black woman character is a ‘nice’, demure, unthreatening, homely, motherly figure whose job it is to make sure to center the (usually) white ones. The Mammy is expected to coddle everyone, to her own detriment. She's a ‘good Black’ because she causes no issue, raises no fuss, never shows a negative feeling, knows that she has to ‘be strong’ but to always defer because the white characters know best. She’s ‘not a threat’, and that’s why she’s ‘allowed’ to be around. We shouldn’t have to be those things in order for our stories to be heard and understood, in order to be empathized with or treated like someone of value.

The Strong Black Woman

If I never hear this phrase again in my life, if we eradicate it from future generations for Black girls and women, I'll cry of joy lmao. I hate it, and it's not for the reasons most nonblack people would expect. Lord, this one. Anyway. The ‘strong Black woman’ is meant to protect everyone, no help needed! Whenever something is wrong and we all need a pickup, here she comes to ‘let me do it’ and everything is going to be okay! She did all the necessary suffering so that your characters don't have to! She can sweep in and save the day!

Now here's the dissonance kicks in. This one on its surface probably sounds like a good thing. She's a hero! She’s resilient! She's great! Who wouldn't want to be superwoman? Who wouldn't want to reject being a love interest, all women are always love interests! Let us be the badass that kicks ass and shows the men what for! Who wouldn’t want that, 24/7?!

The answer: US. 👍🏾🤣

This is a long, separate conversation on its own, but we have to understand that Black women (women of color, really) and White women do not always share the same end goals and understanding of "strong woman character" or even feminism. We certainly aren't always the love interest. Very usually not, in fact. We are always pushed to the side. We are already the hero in our lives, we're already the "strong woman".

Not everyone yearns to be the Singular Hero who will Fix It All as many of us are already expected to do. It's exhausting having to swallow your own needs for everyone else all the time, especially when it's suggested that you have no value otherwise if you don't. Heroism is Exhausting, and it's something worth looking into when you’re characterizing your Black girls and women. I’m not saying that we can’t be strong! We are, and it’s impressive! But I also want us to add some nuance to that strength, the way we would for any other character. What it means to have community, rather than to do it all alone. How even if she wants to be the hero (and that’s okay! That’s fine!) how it would still wear on her. Surrounding your Black girl character with unconditional support, to have a lover that actually wants to pull some weight- that's something many of us actually would like to see, because we're usually shafted to the side as 'someone who can do it all herself' (in order to hide that no one thinks we need or are deserving of the help).

It's okay to let your Black woman and girls show weakness, to rest, to be taken care of! It's not "less feminist" to accept that we're humans that need help and can't carry it all, too. That it’s okay to want to feel valued and protected. Because god knows, I wish I didn’t grow up strong and resilient, I wish I grew up knowing that the world cared that I was safe.

Standards of Beauty

These standards are not the same! I've mentioned it before in my lesson on skin tones, but very often when we think of "beauty", it’s easy to fall into the idea of whiteness. Pale skin, thin hair textures, etc. If those are our existing standards of beauty, then it doesn’t matter what any of us look like- we’re ugly! When I was in high school, I remember a classmate saying that Swedish people were the most beautiful people because of "white hair and pale skin". Without even meaning to, that guy basically said everyone darker than a stack of loose leaf printer paper was ugly by proxy of not being Nordic White (no matter how pretty they actually might be!!) 🤣

It’s also of note that whiteness/paleness tends to be connected with innocence and cleanliness in western culture, while blackness/darkness tends to be considered dirty, sinful, fearful. Now, while the origin of this idea may not be racist itself, when you spend hundreds of years implying that Blackness is bad- to the point that, in the U.S. they came up with an entire slur one step past “negro” (meaning ‘Black’) to deem you less than- it’s hard to say that the societal connotation didn’t apply.

Now we've already discussed working on describing our Black characters better! I continually remind you all that you should be describing them as wonderfully made as you do your white characters. Keep in mind that we live in a world where from day one when we enter the world, Blackness and Black features are not seen as beautiful nor emphasized. Whiteness is the standard of beauty that we, for a long time and still, are expected to adhere to. If you'd like to do better by your characters, remember that you don't have to give them "white features" or use "white" as an adjective to do that!

Black Women as Women

“There was literally nothing, not a thing, that a white woman could ever have that was worth more than her sexual virtue, and this obligated mandatory chasteness and sexual vulnerability… If the most important thing a woman has is virtue, and only white women can have virtue, then by definition, only white women can be women.” Ruby Hamad, ‘Only White Women Can Be Damsels’, White Tears, Brown Scars

Often, Black women by definition are not included under the societal banner of “women”, from our features, to our personalities, to our 'role' in life. "True Womanhood" is denied us, cis and trans, because of our Blackness. The things that make women ‘women’, we are not included under, because systemically, the only ‘women’ that were meant to mean anything were white.

I bring up Megan Thee Stallion again. Meg is probably one of the most beautiful, feminine women I've ever seen in my life. Men still call her a man, due to her height, due to her confidence, and due to their insecurities. Same with Serena Williams; Serena is damn near built like a god in my eyes. She was told she was manly from the beginning of her career, no matter how beyond skilled she was in women's tennis. Even when she damn near died giving birth- the most basic of 'tasks' women are seen as having in this society, it didn't matter. Black women are 'less womanly', 'less valuable', 'less in need' of that protection and identity that society swears Women™ need (and not in the honest way that we do need protection).

Consider that you're making sure that your Black women have the options of range of gender expression and emotions (and if they aren't allowed to, is that on purpose). If you're only ever creating us and we're in service of some dainty white woman and never the other way around... consider how that may reflect what you think our role is in your story, and in your mind.

Adultification

“Awkward moment when Rue is some black girl and not the innocent blond girl you imagine.” twitter: sw4q

It has been shown that Black girls the same age as their white girl counterparts are deemed older and less in need of protection, and supposed to 'be more mature'. Imagine that. Deemed inherently less innocent, due to your skin color. Having to parent our siblings, get jobs to contribute, do all the cleaning, and more. Yet, when we act with the maturity that we've been forced to grow into, we're "fast". A little 12-year-old girl, now to society, the Jezebel. All because she wanted to try pink lip gloss or wear a skirt; things that little tween girls might try to understand the big world around them and push boundaries. Now she's a woman, now she can never be a victim. Now she can be beat on and hurt and it's her fault.

I explain this for two reasons: One, for you to think about how your write your Black girls, and Two, for you to hold more grace for Black girls- real and fake. Do you hold her to a higher standard than your white characters of similar age? Does she inherently seem less innocent to you for reasons outside the plot? Is she as human to you as your other characters? Is she allowed to be a child? To act like one? To make mistakes? Are you as empathetic or understanding about that childishness as you are towards nonblack characters? Do you make these decisions on purpose?

It's not like Black girls can never be YA protags or anything- ofc we can. But keep in mind that she's not somehow automatically "stronger" by proxy of her Blackness, that she'd "be tougher". She's a kid. Let her be one.

Conclusion

There’s a LOT you have to consider when writing Black girls and women. I’m not going to sit here and say it’s easy, because being Black, and being a Black woman, is not easy. If you’re stressed reading it, imagine being stressed living it lmao. It’s a constant chain of quick-time events every day of your life to prevent nonblack nuclear meltdown in response to your every single action. I’m not going to apologize for it, either.

That being said, I don’t expect you to understand everything, especially not all at once. I just want you all to keep these things in mind, to question yourself when you’re writing your character- are you treating her differently on purpose? Or are you treating her differently because of a bias you might not even notice you have? It might help to go back, to read how you treat all of your characters. Or, if you’ve never written before, to maybe outline the traits of your characters and figure out where things balance out. As always, all you can do is practice at it. Because it's the thought that counts, but the action that delivers.

Whew, I'm actually emotionally strained after this one. My chest is beating fast. Let me go get some groceries now.

[lavidavacomoverstappen]

hey! can you please write a lando × bustamante reader....where the reader is the younger sister of Bianca Bustamante and has a huge crush on lando but Lando finds her irritating for some reasons and one day he shouts at her after a bad race when she tries to console him in front of the McLaren crew.. after that lando felt really bad and he had grovel a lot for forgiveness (btw the reader is only one year younger than bianca)....if you do write this thank you very much 🧡🧡

🎀1,317 words 8561 Characters around 5 pages enjoy 🎀

ooo I’m not the biggest fan of bianca but I do love this trope :)

You knew that life was never meant to be fair to everyone yet you had no idea why life constantly tried to screw with you.

Ever since you were a child, you’d always been compared with your older sister, Bianca. She was always seen as the brave, bold, and beautiful one who dared to achieve her dreams and had high ambitions. Whereas people, heck, even your own family, saw you as the timid, overlooked, and frankly dull sibling. Did it hurt growing up like that? Yes, it did.

Did it hurt when all the boys you had a crush on would only use you to get to your sister? Yes, it did. Did it hurt to see your sister achieve everything you’d ever wanted in life and for you to only be known as her sidekick, or, in other words, her shadow? You really don’t remember the last time you’ve ever set yourself apart from your sister and her needs; it’s almost second nature for you to prioritise her and ignore yourself.

This habit of yours was noticed by the eyes of a young British driver. He’s found that habit of yours annoying ever since.

The day Bianica signed for McLaren under F1 Academy was the best and worst day of your life. You were beyond happy for her but you also felt yourself fading further into her shadow. With more media coverage and attention on your sister, you simply faded away.

You had frankly thought about packing your bags and going back home until the same blue-eyed British driver caught your attention. It was silly to say, but you felt like a little teenager with a huge crush.

You knew it wasn’t right to have a crush on your sister’s coworker, but the way he was made it almost impossible. You liked the way he talked, the way he walked, and the way he still had his accent. You liked the way his nose wrinkled any time you talked about sushi or fish. You liked the way that he was a ball of energy, always so confident and fun to be around. What you liked the most about him was the way he made you feel seen and heard. When you were with him, it was almost like you were just you and not Bianca's little sister.

However, within all the giddy feelings of having a crush on Lando, you could not ignore how badly McLaren was doing. It was almost pitiful how poor their race performance was. Qualifying 18 and 19th and having to come into the pits four times in the race would kill anyone’s mood. Lando was no different; over the course of the season, he grew more and more aggressive and agitated after each race.

Lando and her had formed a little ritual: after each race, he would do his interviews while she would wait in the garage, and he would go into his driver's room, and exactly 5 minutes later, she would show up with any sweet treat she could snuggle in, and they would just talk. Some days it would be him talking and her listening, and other days it would be her lifting his confidence up with encouraging words. It is safe to say she really loved their ritual, only hoping to continue their ritual with better results for him.

As the season went on, she noticed a shift in Lando's behavior. His happygo-llucky attitude towards her started to shift towards a more annoyed and irritated mood. It started when she tired of talking to him before a race; he didn’t take kindly to that and simply ignored her and rolled his eyes. It hurt her; it really did, and she could do nothing about it.

They were not friends; they were just forced to be together due to their situations. She knew he would never like her back, but her infatuation with him made each and every move he made romantic.

It started to affect her more when he started distancing himself from her. Lando never wanted to hurt her; he started getting fond of the girl he once was annoyed with. He didn’t know why he started cutting her off; he was trying to play dumb, but deep down he knew he started having feelings for her.

He messed up in Silverstone both on and off track. Home Grand Prixs always have a special place in drivers hearts. It was no different with Lando; Silverstone was the one place every British driver wanted to win in front of their home crowd on their home soil.

The race was long anticipated; she was in his driver's room prior to the race; they had their normal routine done and dusted; he stared at her for a second longer; and she started at his lips for even longer.

They both knew the tension in the room was inevitable; someone just had to make a move. McLaren was proper shit during qualifying, so all expectations were nullified even before the race started. With Lando starting in P9 and Oscar in P5, it irked Lando how well Oscar was doing in the same car as him. A rookie driver beating the team's star child was never a pretty image.

The race started with Lando’s car being 2 seconds off the pace of K-Mag, which was really nice for him. As the race progressed, Lando almost made up 3 places by the end of the 38th lap.

However, McLaren messed up Lando in the pits, being stationary for almost 18 seconds. His 6th place turned into a plum last, and to make matters worse, he ended up retiring the car simply out of spite. He knew he was mad, and he showed it really well on the cameras, especially towards his team.

She knew it was a risk to go see Lando, especially after seeing how mad and snappy he looked. She knew he was probably beating himself up over the way this race went. It didn’t help that Oscar ended up on the podium. It was horrible, really, but neither of them could do anything.

He saw her enter his room; he didn’t like that. He didn’t want her to see him like this, all beaten and broken down. He didn’t realise when his tone shifted or when he felt the anger rise up within him.

All she had said was, “It’s not your fault; I know you are going to do better.“ That’s all he let her get out before he exploded.

“I honestly don’t remember asking for your opinion. God, you are so pathetic sometimes, always searching for attention from anyone who spares a glance at you. It’s all your fault; you think it’s funny to come into my room and give me glances right before a race. God, why are you so fucking stupid?"

“Maybe this is why your sister will always be better than you; your parents probably saw that, and so does everyone else when they see you and her together. Look at her; she’s a driver, and look at you sneaking into a driver's room, offering yourself to him all for what?? bloody attention?? Get out. I don’t want to see you anymore. All you’ve done is clutter my brain.”

Y/N walked out of his room with hot tears running down her face, her face all red, and a pounding headache. But what was worse than all that pain combined was the pain running through her heart; it genuinely felt like her heart was snapped into two and stepped on by a herd of elephants.

She didn’t know why he snapped at her; all she wanted was to help him. Everything he said made her fall into a spiralling downfall. All the work she’s done to keep her insecurities hidden and healed, Lando’s words ripped them apart and left them burning red and raw.

[spatialwave]

"𝓲𝓽'𝓼 𝓸𝓷𝓵𝔂 𝓯𝓪𝓲𝓻"

pairing: pre-war cooper howard x fem!reader word count: 3k summary: you hadn’t expected to see a celebrity at your nephews birthday party, let alone america’s most recognizable cowboy star. luck seemed to be on your side when cooper howard’s attention landed right on you. warnings: mdni! smut, age difference, cooper eats you out!

you and your older sister had a sour relationship, you hadn’t quite agreed with her husband’s fixation with capitalizing on a nuclear fallout. he worked at vault-tech, some entry-level position with a promise of greater things. after a few dinners of listening to him ramble about the vaults and trying to convince you to buy your place in one, you decided to distance yourself.

but your six-year old nephew had stolen your heart since he was a newborn. you would do anything for him, even if it meant sucking up your pride and going to visit your sister for his birthday.

knowing that he was a little aspiring cowboy, you showed up dressed to impress—meaning denim jeans, cowboy boots, a button down blouse and cowboy hat. you had expected enthusiasm from the other adults, but you were greeted with them all in their sunday’s best. 

this was going to be a long saturday afternoon.

you were sitting inside your sister’s house, having kept yourself away from the partygoers as you picked at the hot dog on your paper plate. a birthday delicacy.

just as you were about to call it a day and make haste for the door, you heard the sound of kids yelling excitedly outside where the party had migrated. you hadn’t been told that there was entertainment and curiosity bubbled inside you. a little peak would hurt.

just as you reached the backyard, standing up on the white-painted porch, your eyes landed on the man sitting atop a horse with a lasso spinning effortlessly around his body. of course your sister managed to hire an actual cowboy.

with a smirk on your lips, you watched with a tiny smile—eyes growing wide when you recognized the face hidden behind the hat. 

that was fucking cooper howard.

you felt your heart skip a beat as you stepped toward the staircase, looking over the sea of parents and children as the movie star put on a beautiful display of his talents. you had heard the news stories from women gossiping in your workplace, how cooper howard was going through a tough divorce with his wife… who worked for vault-tech.

it then made sense how your brother-in-law scored this gig.

speculating wasn’t going to do you any good, and you likely weren’t going to get any answers, so you pushed thoughts of cooper’s personal life out of your head and instead admired him. who cared why he was there? you were happy to be within the same vicinity as the handsome man. he was just as beautiful in-person as he was on the television screen, big pearly whites shining as he smiled.

then, his brown eyes met yours, even over the crowd of people that he could let his gaze linger on. you felt your body shiver as you both shared a long stare, feeling vulnerable under his eyes and missing it when he instead looked down at a young boy that was cheering for him.

with red cheeks and a giddy smile on your lips, you kept watching, unable to look away. even after he’d gotten off the horse and helped a few children sit atop and take them for a short little walk around the backyard.

cooper was good with the children, you found yourself unable to look away and making little mental notes of what kind of man he was. so far, he was kind, gentle and humble.

before you could indulge any further, your sister sprung up in your line of sight and left you huffy.

“would you be a darling and go into bruce’s car to get donny’s present?” she asked so sweetly, “he wanted to keep it as hidden as possible.”

“i was enjoying the show,” you grumbled, watching as cooper had started to wrap up after taking a few photos with your nephew and a handful of the other kids.

“oh, hush. here.” your sister shoved the vehicle keys into your hand, “just leave the present inside, we’ll be there in a few minutes once the entertainment is gone.”

you hadn’t even gotten the energy to call your sister out for labelling cooper as just ‘entertainment’. you just let out a sigh and followed her orders, grabbing the present out from the convertible and placing it neatly on the large stack of presents on the kitchen island.

your small gift bag was starting to look shameful compared to some of the large, wrapped boxes.

“christ,” you muttered to yourself as you let out a defeated breath.

you made way for the front door, digging in the pockets of your jeans and retrieving a cigarette as you stepped foot onto the front porch. just as you lit it and moved down the short stairs, you glanced ahead and were greeted by none other than cooper howard walking across the large driveway.

“miss,” he smiled at you out of courtesy, giving a nod of acknowledgement as he continued to lead his horse past you and toward the trailer hooked up behind his vehicle.

“hello,” you murmured, exhaling smoke from your lungs as you watched him with wide eyes—starstruck. after a few moments of watching him you mustered up the courage to follow behind him, though doing your best not to disturb the horse and get a prompt kick in the head, “mr. howard?”

the older man looked over his shoulder, hands busy guiding his horse as he stopped just outside the trailer. 

“hm?” he hummed, turning slowly to face you, that charismatic smile on his lips, “please, just call me cooper,” his voice drawled with a thick southern accent, “what can i do for a pretty cowgirl, such as yourself?”

you felt your cheeks warm up at his words, wondering if he was flirting or just being overly kind. you hadn’t met a ton of celebrities in your day, so you hadn’t the slightest clue.

“oh, i’m not a cowgirl,” you laughed softly, looking down at your outfit and then back up to cooper, “it’s my nephew’s birthday and i suppose i took the dress nice requirement the wrong way.” you managed to make cooper chuckle, a grin forming along his lips as he tied off his horse to the trailer and able to give you much of his attention. 

“well, if i got to choose, you’re definitely the best dressed today. you had me convinced that you’d be coming for my job,” he poked fun at you, finding.

cooper howard had always been a faithful man, but barb’s betrayal was something he’d never be able to forgive. he was also a man with needs, so when a young woman approached him with a naive look in her eyes, he couldn’t help but pounce at the opportunity for some flirting. it helped with his ego, at least, having slowly deflated after needing to take on these entertainment gigs just to pay alimony to his ex-wife.

it wasn’t fair that she’d manage to take most of his assets, the money, the home—full custody of janey with very little visitation. it was brutal, but he was making it work. he’d be having the weekend with his daughter soon enough.

he could be content with you right now, in fact, he desperately needed the distraction.

“if it makes you feel better i can’t even ride a horse,” you said through a giggle, “i won’t be coming for your job anytime soon.”

a breathy laugh came from cooper as he settled a hand on his hip, “that’s reassuring,” he smiled with thinned lips, “you’d certainly take away attention from me.”

there it was again, was he flirting with you? was cooper howard actually flirting with you?

“i don’t know about that,” you spoke quietly, flicking off the build up of ash on the cigarette you hadn’t been smoking, “sorry, i’ll let you get all packed up. i’m sure you’re a busy man. i just wanted to let you know that i’m a big fan of your movies,” you tried so hard to keep a calm and cool composure, “you’re, uh… a great actor.”

“why, that’s very kind of you, miss,” cooper kept a smile on his lips as he looked over you, brushing his hands off on his brown corduroy pants and clearing his throat, “would you happen to have an extra cigarette i may be able to take off your hands? i seemed to have left mine at home.”

you nodded, reaching for the pack in your pocket so you could pull one out and pass it to the older man, a smile breaking on your lips when his fingers brushed against yours.

“thank you,” he said smoothly, eyes flickering to follow your hands as you pulled out a lighter for him. he leaned forward with the cigarette between his lips, meeting your gaze as the flame lit it nicely and smoke bellowed from his lips, “you are a lifesaver, darlin’, i’m usually more prepared than this.”

“it’s no worries at all, my pleasure. really.” you take a step back from him, cheeks burning hot as you shoved the lighter back into your pocket and butted out the cigarette you had completely neglected.

“how about i treat you for a drink sometime,” he spoke, tilting his head curiously, “it’s only fair, don’t you think?”

cooper was more than satisfied to see the way you had looked so surprised, your eyes widening and lips curving into a small smile. somewhere deep inside, he knew this was wrong. you were a young thing, not much older than a university graduate, if that. cooper? well, he was at least twenty years your senior.

then, he remembered, it’s not like he had anyone but himself to please. his ex-wife had managed to get his reputation buried so deep that he couldn’t book anymore gigs, hell, not even a lousy commercial. his agent would be letting him go soon, too, he knew it.

there was nothing to lose here.

“a drink?” you questioned, “like a date?”

you were so damn endearing.

honestly, you were convinced that something had happened at your nephew’s birthday. maybe you had walked too close to the horse, and it kicked you in the head. everything happening was just your wildest dreams as you lay in a hospital in the deepest of comas. it was easier to than believing you were actually sitting with cooper howard in a darkened bar, a place much too expensive for you, but you supposed these were the perks of being famous.

you sat in a velvet covered seat right at the long bar, one leg crossed over the other in an attempt to make yourself feel like you were fancy enough to belong here. you were just thankful that you had a friend who was a seamstress, able to turn a long, frumpy black dress into something that hugged your curves.

it wasn’t every day a movie star asked you out.

“what do you do for work?” cooper leaned his elbow against the bar top, a cigarette in his left hand and glass of whiskey in the other, “other than being a professional cowgirl, of course.” 

“i’m just finishing up the last bit of my schooling,” you replied, pulling the martini glass from your lips where a layer of red lipstick marked the glass—your second drink, “going to be a nurse.”

“now, that’s a very commendable line of work,” cooper straightened up, setting down his now empty glass full of half-melted ice, “i’m certain you’ll get a lot of joy out of savin’ peoples lives.”

“i hope so,” you smiled, quite proud of your career choices, “i mean, it’s no movie star, though.”

cooper let out a low laugh, dropping his gaze for a moment as he put out his cigarette in an ashtray, “let me just tell you that being a movie star isn’t all it’s made out to be,” he spoke through a breathy chuckle.

you furrowed your brows slightly, chewing on your bottom lips as you watched him. well, at least he was a modest man. “why aren’t you in movies anymore?” you bit the bullet with your question, “i haven’t seen you in anything new since you started doing the ads for vault-tech.”

a heavy breath escaped cooper’s nostrils as he met your eyes, his smile gone, “you see, that’s a can of worms we oughta’ keep shut, if you don’t mind.”

“i’m sorry,” you were filled with immense regret, seeing the discomfort on coopers face, “i’ve been told i’m too nosy for my own good.”

“no, don’t apologize, darlin’. how were you supposed to know without asking?” cooper reassured you, reaching forward to place his hand on your bare knee, peaking out from the provocative slit that went up the length of your dress, “maybe someday i’ll share.”

you felt your heart skip a beat when his calloused hand rested over the smooth skin of your leg, sending shivers up your spine and making you wonder just where this night would lead. a sheepish laugh escaped your lips as you toyed with the toothpick in your martini, punctured through an olive, “someday? i wasn’t expecting a second date.”

“you weren’t?” cooper grinned, god, you loved his smile, “i thought this was goin’ well.”

“maybe if i have a third drink in me i’ll be more inclined to go on that second date with you,” you teased, thankful for the courage the drinks were giving you.

“why don’t i make you that third at my place? i can mix you up a better martini than here,” he squeezed your knee, his thumb brushing along your skin and all you could do was nod.

the third drink never came, but that was okay. with your lips parted and hands in cooper’s hair, you could care less about a dirty martini when his face was buried between your thighs and your dress pushed up to your hips. you’d always been a lucky girl, but nothing would ever top this.

“oh,” you whimpered, fingers tightening in his hair as his tongue lapped against your folds, the tip flicking against your swollen, sensitive clit, “just like that,” you cooed, your head falling back against the cushion as you closed your eyes and focused on nothing except the pleasure flowing through you. 

cooper had long forgotten the worries that tried to rot his mind because for once in months he felt something, a warmth in his stomach—hope. even as war loomed overhead and life seemed dire, you had walked into his life. someone fun, a pretty girl who could keep his troubles away for a night.

his hands gripped at your outer thighs, fingers digging into your skin as he ate you out with the expertise he’d gained throughout the years. quickly learning what made you moan and squirm under his touch.

“fuck,” you cried out, whimpering as your thighs pressed against the sides of his head as you neared climax, “i’m going to cum.”

“no one’s stopping you, angel,” he breathed warmly against your cunt, one hand pulling from your thigh so he could press a digit inside you and coax out sweet sounds from your lips. he pulled back as a second finger joined in, his mouth and chin glistening from your juices, “show me those pretty eyes of yours.”

you were quick to listen, using your strength to lift your head up and look down at cooper. he looked glorious with tousled hair and pink cheeks, fingers fucking you with a practiced touch. 

you locked your eyes on him as you breathed heavily through pouted lips. “cooper,” you whined loudly when his thumb made quick circles over your clit and bringing you closer to the edge, fingers tugging on his hair as your back arched and the coil inside your stomach released.

your voice cracked as you said his name, a cry of pleasure coming deep from your throat as you came. you pulsed and contracted around his fingers, hips vibrating as he didn’t let up, not in the slightest. he wanted to see how your face twisted with pleasure when you became oversensitive, grinning as you grabbed at his hands in an attempt to slow his movements. 

he listened, his fingers coming to a stop and soon pulling out from you as his lips pressed chaste kisses to your inner thighs while you fell back into the sofa and let out a shaky sigh.

“i have to be dreaming,” you breathed out, hardly able to keep your eyes open as you felt cooper shift so he could sit up and crawl over your body.

“too good to be true?” cooper questioned with a teasing tone, holding himself above you as you pressed your hands to his cheeks.

“very much so,” you smiled, your breath evening out, “cooper, i think you should rest back and let me do some work now,” you hummed as you pressed a hand to his chest and began to push him until he was resting against the arm of the sofa.

cooper showed a toothy, lopsided grin as he watched with intrigue glimmering in his eyes, happily looking you up and down as you moved from your spot on the couch until you were kneeling on the carpeted floor in front of him, “you really don’t need to,” he said, though, he was only being polite. he wouldn’t say no to this.

“aw, come on, cooper,” you whispered, your hands on his clothed thighs, slowly moving up until they could tackle his belt buckle, “it’s only fair.”

“shit,” cooper hissed, eyes fluttering shut as he felt your hands free his erection from the confines of his suit pants.

he certainly hoped for a second date.

[hannieehaee]

Imagine workaholic gf!reader of equally workaholic bf!woozi where they both take a few days leave to enjoy each other and book a luxurious honeymoon suite hotel room thinking they will have a lot of sex with their days off but instead end up with cuddling and lazy make out sessions because their exhaustion just swooshes over them owo

18+ / mdi

content: workaholic!woozi x workaholic!reader, afab reader, heavy mentions of smut, making out, very suggestive, etc.

wc: 1262

a/n: i can really picture jihoon dating a fellow workaholic lol anyways thank u for requesting<3

masterlist

"fuck, finally," you sighed in relief, letting yourself fall backwards onto the cool bed in the luxury hotel room jihoon had reserved.

after endless weeks of equally endless work, you finally had a week off, which jihoon had strategically coordinated with his own time off.

the two of you were extremely hard workers – to a fault. when jihoon bad first met you, he worried that maybe his addiction to constant work would eventually drive you away, yet somehow it had continued to keep you right by his side. you preferred that he was a workaholic, you had once told him. there had apparently been a few prior relationships in which your heavy workload had led to irreparable issues. jihoon being equally as busy as you allowed you to work without feeling guilt of leaving your partner behind – jihoon felt the exact same way.

despite the unspoken agreement the two of you had in regards to the dynamic of your relationship, it sometimes still got to you when you'd realize how little time you were able to spend with your boyfriend – once more, jihoon felt the exact same way.

your individual lives were already difficult to navigate, but making time for each other was even more complicated. your exhaustion was a whole different issue. working as much as the two of you did, it was understandable that you'd spend the lulls in your schedule resting as much as you could rather than with each other. it was a sad truth, but still remained a truth.

it wasn't as if you spent no time together, though. you'd always either see each other in the mornings (either through call or in person – depending on whether jihoon was in the country at the time or not) or at night, always making sure to love on one another as a reminder of the thriving affection in your relationship. you'd also dedicate one night per week to have a stay-at-home date night. everything was perfectly tailored to your relationship, and the two of you were more than happy with it.

these past few weeks had been the issue. as jihoon had a comeback and you had an important project at work, it was virtually impossible for you to see each other as of late. it got to you in all the worst ways, making you moody, irritable, tired, and even sexually frustrated. not only were you physically exhausted of the constant work, but you had been deprived of your daily dosage of jihoon. you had not slept together in weeks, nor had you even had a meal with each other. cuddling? completely out of the question with the insanely packed schedule you'd been having.

it all went like this for the both of you for a few weeks, up until everything managed to reach a standstill. you had a few days off, and jihoon had the ability to move some things around to match your time off. without so much as one word from you, jihoon had decided it was the perfect time to whisk you away on a private getaway at some luxury hotel of your choice.

jihoon wasnt really one to go out much, unbeknownst to you, but jihoon had been feeling extremely pent up from the last moment he got to have you all to himself. the short glimpses of you he managed to catch throughout the busy weeks were the only thing that had kept him going. the singular thought of the next time he'd he'd get to have you was the only thing occupying his mind. renting out a room for the week was the most obvious of choices to jihoon. he would finally get to explore the sheets with you.

upon arriving to the hotel, jihoon chuckled at how pleased you seemed with the place, immediately letting yourself loose on the bed and sighing in contentment. putting down the suitcases, jihoon joined you soon after, still fully clothed as he laid next to you, staring up at the ceiling.

"are you as tired as i am?", you asked him.

he hummed in affirmation, "yeah. what do you wanna do first?"

the unspoken agreement to utilize the week on sex had filled up the room before you had even arrived, so it was obvious what he was referring to.

"i'll take a quick bath first, okay, baby?", you said as you began to get up, stretching your muscles in the process.

"sure, baby. i'll head down to the gym for a bit to unwind then. i'll see you in about an hour, then?"

with a sweet peck, you bid your boyfriend goodbye, giddy to get yourself relaxed and perfumed so your boyfriend could help you destress under the sheets.

~

the bath had been a huge success in terms of getting you relaxed. after an hour lying in the warmest, bubbliest, comfiest water imaginable to man, you felt like a brand new person. accompanied by a lavender-scented bath bomb, a glass of wine and your favorite netflix show playing in the background, you got out of that bath in the best mood you'd been in in weeks.

the one downside was how incredibly relaxed the bath had gotten you. you were so relaxed, you could've fallen victim to endless slumber in that bathtub. as much as you needed jihoon to fuck you to sleep, you weren't sure how well you'd be able to perform if you tried to return the favor.

luckily for you, that would not be an issue.

upon walking back into the room, now donning some comfortable pajamas, you were met with the sight of a fully-asleep jihoon, cocooned between the sheets as he snored softly. the sight had you swooning with affection for the boy. he was the softest, most relaxing thing you had ever seen.

you couldn't help yourself in making your way to him, somehow maneuvering yourself into his arms and under the sheets, feeling more relaxed than ever.

before you could even close your eyes, the boy shuffled behind you, mumbling against your ear as he cuddled further into you.

"baby?", he mumbled.

"sorry, baby. did i wake you?"

"hmm, no you're fine. i meant to stay awake for you, but the bed's just so damn comfy," he chuckled breathily, "i took a quick shower downstairs to prepare for, you know, but fuck, i'm just so tired," he whined.

you turned around in his arms, facing him, breaths almost intertwined due to the proximity.

"that's okay, hoonie. 'm so sleepy. maybe ... we could leave it for tomorrow? just sleep in and then we can have some fun tomorrow?" you suggested, pressing a soft peck to his lips.

his arms tightened around your waist, not allowing you to pull back all the way, "only if you kiss me some more," he murmured, eyes stuck to your lips.

"i can agree to that," you giggled, pressing a languid kiss to his lips as he stuck his tongue in your mouth, softly intertwining with your own in a wet kiss.

the rest of the evening was spent softly making out under the warm sheets, legs tangled up together and fully relaxed in each other's arms. sex was the last thing on your mind as you kissed each other every so often, mostly focused on holding onto one another and finding your slumber together. however, this exhaustion did not stop you from waking up the following day, claiming your highs from one another time after time throughout the day, ready to recharge at night and continue the pattern day after day.

[zvdvdlvr]

— Morning Smoke

💜 — Synopsis. You knew you had a thing for the one person who had a clear distaste towards you. But maybe having a wet dream about him- while sleeping in the same room as him- was probably a good thing.

💜 — Warnings. Rushed writing. Unedited. Dry humping. Clothed grinding. Reader and Spencer smoke cigarettes.

One year, eleven months, and six days. Thats how long you’d been working for the BAU catching serial killers, bombers, and rapists by observing every detail if their crime. You’re a valuable asset to the team, your brain working on the same page as the rest of the team with just a different design. 

During your time at the BAU, you recieved many titles. Caffeine fiend(Aaron), best friend(Penny), mama (Derek), and idiot- affectionately- (Emily). The only person that hadn’t called you anything other than your first or last name, or agent was Spencer Reid.

There was a barrier between the two of you- unspoken, of course, but there was just some kind of wall seperating you from him. You didn’t blame Spencer for keeping you at at arm’s length: you were just some new agent who would eventually transfer. Admittedly, it hurt when Spencer politely uninvited himself from the activities you went along with. And it felt like a gut punch when Spencer chose the farthest seat from you on the jet and chose to move away from you while giving profiles to the police. But you figured he had his reasons.

“Y/n,” Emily murmured, nudging your arm. You looked up, bleary eyes focussing on the dark haired woman in front of you. You blinked.

“What’s- hey!” You cried out indignantly as Emily snatched the cold cup if coffee you had started to reach for. “Emily.”

“It’s time to go back to the hotel. Hotch’s orders,” the dark haired woman said, nodding to the team behind you.

You nodded. “Okay.” You stood up and hastily tucked papers into the manilla folder you were working on. “I’m ready.”

“Put those files down, y/n,” Hotch commanded, raising a tired eyebrow in your direction. “If I’m tired, you have to be a dead woman walking.”

You put the file down and pulled your coat on without protest. You’d only actually seen Hotch exhausted a handful of times. And Hotch was right: you did feel like you were about to fall over. Maybe having an iron deficiency and drinking coffee off an empty stomach wasn’t a very pleasant experience…

The ride to the hotel was over in a blink of an eye- a really ling blink apparently. You hadn’t even known you had reached the hotel until the inevitable and only boy genius Spencer Reid shook your shoulder gently to wake you up. Truly, you thought you were dreaming when you opened your eyes and Spencer’s face surrounded by a mat of curly hair greated you. His furrowd eyebrows relaxed when you looked around.

“Let’s go, l/n. You’re rooming with me,” Spencer told you after locking the car.

If you were in the right state of mind, you probably would have bent over giggling from the way Spencer put his arm around you as he led you into the building. But you weren’t so you just rested your head in the juncture if his shoulder and neck. He smelled good for someone who’d been awake for God knows how long. If you concentrated you thought you could feel the heat of his palm around you, moving in teeny tiny circles.

By the time you reached the bedroom you were practically unconscious in Spencer’s arms, yours and his go-bag around Spencer’s other arm. Spencer gently set you down on the bed closest to the door and put your go-bag in the bed beside you. “You should probably get changed, but I know how tired you are. I’ll shower tonight so you can shower tomorrow,” he explained, brushing a baby hair out of your line of sight. “Goodnight.”

“G’night, Spence,” you mumbled, eyes caught in the way Spencer’s lips moved and twitched. He was an expressive man when he was tired, and you caught the rare smile that graced his lips.

You hoped you would remember the blush on his cheekbones that matched the color of his lips when you woke up the next morning.

Birds chirped. The bright sun shone through the blinds of your home, patterning your room with strips of orangey-yellow. You turned over and saw him.

“Hey, you,” Spencer greeted. His hand came to rest gently on your cheek and pull you up to his pink lips. Your leg fluidly moved to straddle Spencer’s right leg.

Breathlessly you muttered a “good morning” before your hand tangled in Spencer’s curly hair, tugging his head down to meet your desperate kisses.

Spencer moved his thigh up to rub harshly on your core. You gasped sharply and ground down to meet Spencer’s thigh. “Oh fuck,” you whispered, watching Spencer’s back arch as you palmed the massive tent in his pants.

A strangled cry left your lips when Spencer’s massive hands fell onto your hips and controlled your movements. “That’s my girl,” Spencer growled, your hands feeling up Spencer’s chest and tracing the curves and lines of his neck. As your orgasm approached, your hands grasped Spencer’s face and harshly pulled him into you.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you murmured, eyes fluttering closed.

“Y/n,” Spencer murmured, voice low.

“Fuck,” you cursed. “Jus’ like that,” you slurred.

“Y/n,” Spencer repeated, one hand sliding up to your shoulder.

Your jaw clenched and your hips jerked violently.

“Y/n.”

You shot up in bed, sweat soaking your forhead and hair. You looked around wildly, chest heaving. 

In front of you sat Spencer Walter Reid, eyes beady with sleep. “Are you okay? You sounded like you were having a nightmare-?”

“Fuck, fuck,” you whispered, running a hand through your hair. “I’m- yeah I’m alright. I just-“ you exhaled. “Go back to bed, Reid, I’m alright.”

“A-Are you sure?”

You wanted to groan. The ruins of a spoiled orgasm simmered away in your blood. “Yes. I just- Yeah it was a nightmare. I’m gonna- go get ready.”

“L/n, it is 4 o’clock in the morning.”

You thanked the dark lighting for concealing the dark patch of your pants due to your arousal. “It’s- Please go back to bed.”

“Talk to me,” Spencer pleaded, grabbing your hand.

“It’s nothing, Reid. There’s nothing to talk about. Go to bed.”

“It’s a proven fact that people who discuss their nightmares with someone increase their happiness and healing process by more than 50%,” Spencer rushed.

“Reid it’s embarrassing. I can’t-“ you shook your head. “I’ll- please, Reid.”

The moonlight glinted in his eyes as he searched you for answers he knew you wouldn’t give him. “Are you- y/n. What’s going on in that head of yours?”

Your jaw tightened and you looked away. Your thighs burned- you must have been humping the blanket between your thighs. “Reid, you don’t have to do this.”

“Do what?”

You threw your hands up. “I know you don’t like me, Reid. It’s kind of obvious, so I’m just saying that you don’t need to have a therapy session because we’re rooming together.”

Spencer genuinely looked offended. “I don’t hate you,” he murmured. “I never have.”

You scoffed and stood up, dream completely forgotten. “Could have fooled me, Reid. Go to bed. I’ll see you in the morning.”

You left Spencer on your bed, bringing your go-bag to the tiny bathroom.

— 💜

After scrubbing you skin raw you finally exited the shower and pulled your hair into a braided updo before pulling on some clean clothes.

The sky was still dark when you exited the hotel, cigarette box in hand.

You sat in the ground, smart enough to know not to willingly wander too far outside of the vicinity of the rest of the team while at an unfamiliar location. “Goddamnit,” you murmured, lighting up a cigarette and watching the sun start to stain the concrete.

Visions of dead bodies filled your mind. Empty coffee cups getting tossed into a trash can, bloodstained hands as you ushered a victim away from the unsub, the ringing in your ears after an SUV blew up near you. When you joined the BAU you hadn’t known that every day you looked into the eyes of those possessed by evil, you would lose a part of your soul trying to save each and every person you saw.

But the team had it’s pros. A group of people you mostly called family, good pay, paid sick leave, mostly free flights, a badass title, and introduction to some very fine specimens (read: Spencer Walter Reid).

Speaking of Spencer, you were thinking of the conversation you both had. ‘I don’t hate you. I never have’. You snorted and lit another cigarette, holding the smoke in your lungs until familiar white spots danced in your vision.

“Y/n.”

You looked up. Spencer stood near you, hands fidgeting. You could see his eyes avoiding yours and suddenly you felt like laughing. After all of this time thinking one of the hottest people you’d ever met hated you, he was standing- nervous- in front of you. “Yeah?”

Spencer sat beside you. “Didn’t know you smoked,” he tried, looking towards the rising sun.

“You refused to make comversation with me for about a month when I started,” you said lowly. When Spencer sighed beside you, you added “I don’t normally. Just when… things happen.”

Spencer nodded. “Oh.”

Silence fell over the two of you as you exhaled. You offered the cigarette to Spencer, raising an eyebrow when he accepted.

“I want to talk to you,” Soencer said finally, snuffing out the cigarette.

You lit another one. “So talk.”

“Well, I… I’m sorry.”

When Spencer didn’t say anything for another few seconds, you turned to him. “Is that all?”

Spencer dropped his head into his hands. “Look, I knew I was keeping you at arm’s length. I thought… I thought keeping you away would make sure that I didn’t…” Spencer sighed.

“Reid, I need tou to really spell it out for me. I can’t keep dancing around your riddles,” you said, facing the sun.

“I love you, y/n. I thought that if I didn’t talk to you, let these feelings grow… Maybe I could harbor my attraction to you.” 

You felt your heart skip in your chest.  “You didn’t consider telling me this? What if I felt the same?”

Spencer looked at you, a confused look in his eyes. “You didn’t like me like that and I couldn’t force you to love me too. You’re way too good for me anyway.”

“I do,” you reply, nodding. “And I’m not too good for you, Spencer. If anything, you should find better than me.”

Prolonged eye contact and silence fell over the both of you.

“Ask me now, Spencer. Make up for lost time.”

A small smile tugged at the corners of Spencer lips at your request. “Do you like me like I like you, y/n?”

You nodded, mirroring Spencer’s smile. “I do like you the way you like me, Spencer.”

“Does that mean I can kiss you?” Spencer asked immediately, eyes dropping to your lips.

You closed the distance between the two of you, hand sliding up the nape of Spencer’s neck to tangle in his curls. Spencer’s lips were skilled, leaving you wanting more as he pulled away.

“So, about that dream I had earlier,” you started.

A sly smirk replaced the smile on Spencer’s face. “I knew what you were dreaming about, I just couldn’t stand listen to you knowing how weird it would be for me to face you at work the next morning.”

You felt your face warm up at Spencer’s words. “Oh. Well. Sorry for waking you up, then.”

Spencer just shrugged. “I’m not- you sound very nice. I guess I will admit the fact that I told you about talking about your dreams was completely false. I just wanted to pry.”

You shook your head with laughter, the sun peeking up even further in the sky.

[witchywithwhiskey]

bucky + “cut it out” - “what do you mean? i’m not doing anything”

getting what you want on a rainy spring afternoon

pairing: best friend!bucky barnes x female reader

warnings: 18+ content (minors dni!!!), smut, dry humping/dry sex, fingering (f receiving), consent issues (but not really? idk), dirty talk, light degradation, kissing, teasing, banter, friends to lovers

word count: 2,500ish

a/n: thank you so much for sending in this prompt!! i had far too much fun writing these two, which is why it ended up being so long 😅 (compared to my other springtime fun ficlets anyway)!! hope y'all enjoy!! ♡♡

“Stop it.” The words were barely discernible with the way they were growled, the annoyed rumbling coming from your best friend, Bucky Barnes. Your best friend who had come over on that rainy spring afternoon to hang out and had promptly fallen asleep instead.

Though you would’ve expected yourself to be a little sleepy, given the long week you’d had, you found yourself feeling more restless than anything else. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t seem to settle down and cuddle up against Bucky’s arm like you’d done so many times before. 

So you were left to your own devices with your best friend, who’d fallen asleep sitting up, his arms crossed over his chest and his head tilted back against your couch. He looked completely at ease on your couch while you were bored. You wanted Bucky’s attention and, for some reason you couldn’t fathom, you’d decided the best way to get it was to annoy him until he woke up. 

You’d been trailing your fingers over his bare arms and face, tickling him until his expression twisted and he grumbled in his sleep. It was immature, but you were having too much fun to stop, suppressing your giggles every time he made an unhappy sound.

Finally, you got some actual words out of him and you had to cover your mouth to stifle your laughter. Bucky sounded so cute when he was tired and grumpy. Maybe it should’ve made you stop, but instead you waited for him to fall back asleep, his soft snores joining the gentle rhythm of the rain and the hum of the movie still playing on your TV. 

Reaching up, you trailed your fingertips ever so lightly down the bridge of Bucky’s nose, skipping them off the edge before they fell to his mouth. You were surprised by how soft Bucky’s lips felt beneath your fingers, so different to the scruffy roughness of his cheeks and jaw, which seemed to be permanently covered in stubble.

Bucky’s lips parted as you were tracing them, and you yanked your hand away, turning to face the TV so you could pretend you’d only been watching the movie if he woke up. But you watched Bucky out of the corner of your eye, and he seemed to be sleeping still. Then his tongue darted out to wet his lips and your face heated inexplicably. 

Suddenly, your thoughts were filled with ideas about what it would feel like to have Bucky’s mouth pressed to yours, his stubble dragging against your skin. You couldn’t stop yourself from picturing your best friend kissing along your jaw and down your neck—his lips exploring even more intimate parts of your body…

Squirming in your seat and trying to ignore the heat curling through your belly, you turned fully to Bucky, watching him closely to make sure he was asleep. When you were certain hew as, you reached out, tracing his lips again with your fingertips, feeling their softness and the dampness left behind by his tongue. 

Your body warmed, and you pressed your thighs together against a pulsing ache building in your core. You didn’t want to think about your body’s reaction to touching your best friend, but you also didn’t want to stop or pull your hand away. You wanted to stay in the moment as long as possible.

So enraptured by the sight of Bucky’s mouth, you didn’t notice when his lips parted further, his raspy grumble surprising you so much you had to bite back a gasp.

“Cut it out.”

“What do you mean? I’m not doing anything.” Your reply was quick, as you pulled your hand away and leaned against his side like you were simply cuddling into him. It was normal for you to cuddle with your best friend, though you weren’t normally thinking about kissing him, or about doing other things with him, when you did.  

Unfortunately—or fortunately—your new position of leaning against his arm put your face close to Bucky’s. His mouth was right there, looking oh so enticing, and an impulsive thought popped into your mind. What if you just…brushed your lips against his? Not even fully against his mouth, just the edge of it. Could it really count as a kiss if you just brushed your lips to the corner of his mouth? 

You decided it didn’t. 

Leaning forward, your eyes fluttered closed as your lips ghosted over the stubble next to Bucky’s mouth, then connected with the softness of his lips. Your breath caught in your throat. It felt so good—his warm breath caressing your cheek and his velvety lips against the edge of yours. You could even taste the coffee he had that morning, the flavor rich and mixing with something that was entirely Bucky.

It occurred to you far too late that you were dangerously close to kissing your best friend, and you shouldn’t be doing anything of the sort—especially while he was sleeping on your couch. You knew you should pull away and go back to watching the movie, pretend nothing ever happened. But what you really wanted was to press closer, to sink into Bucky’s chest and slip your tongue past his lips. 

Instead, you just hung suspended in the moment, too wrapped up in your thoughts about kissing your best friend to notice the way his breathing shifted, his body tensing like a predator’s would right before it pounced. 

Then, all at once, Bucky moved, flipping you down onto your back on the soft couch cushions and covered your body with his own, his narrow waist fitting perfectly between your thighs. His hard bulge pressed to your core, making you gasp as pleasure surged through your body, your legs wrapping around him instinctively to keep him close.

“Not doing anything, huh, doll?” Bucky rasped in a teasing voice, a wide grin on his face. “Certainly not kissing your best friend while he’s asleep, right?” Bucky’s blue eyes sparkled in the dim daylight of your living room. You squirmed guiltily beneath him, but that only succeeded in grinding your heated core against his dick, making it twitch in his sweatpants.

“Bucky,” you whined, gripping his t-shirt in your fists and shaking them, neither pushing him away nor pulling him closer. Now that he was awake, you were painfully aware that your friendship was hanging by a precarious thread, but the heat flooding your body urged you to throw all caution to the wind. Still, you knew you needed to apologize for what you’d done, and you whispered, “I’m sorry,” in a small, pitiful voice.

But Bucky only grinned, ducking down and pressing a smacking kiss to your cheek. “Don’t apologize, doll,” he said in a warm, happy tone. “I’ve been awake since you started touching my face,” he pressed a kiss to your other cheek, trailing his lips down and blowing a raspberry against your jaw, which made you shriek with laughter. 

You tried to squirm away from his teasing mouth, but Bucky grabbed your hands, pulling them from his shirt and pinning them above your head. His face hovered above yours, his eyes taking you in like he was seeing you for the first time.

“I was wondering how far you’d go,” he said, his voice low, almost a whisper. Then, a sly smirk curved his lips and his eyes darkened, your body lighting up at the expression. “Didn’t think you’d kiss me though.” His eyes dropped to your mouth and his voice went a little distant as he murmured, “Didn’t think our first kiss would be when you thought I was asleep.”

Your lips parted and it was on the tip of your tongue to apologize when his words sank in. Had Bucky just implied that he’d thought your first kiss together was inevitable? And did his words mean he’d thought about kissing you before? How long had he been thinking about kissing you?

You didn’t have time to fully form a question in response to Bucky’s words because your best friend slanted his lips to yours, capturing them in a kiss. Immediately, the entire world fell away and your mind went blissfully blank—your guilt and trepidation melting into simple pleasure as you reveled in your first proper kiss with Bucky. 

Kissing your best friend felt like coming home and sinking into the safety and comfort and bliss of knowing where you belonged. The way your lips slid against Bucky’s, you knew you belonged with him—in his arms—always. It was overwhelming and delicious at the same time, and you never wanted to stop.  

“Taste so good, doll,” he rumbled, pulling away for only a second before he was diving back into your mouth, his tongue slipping between your lips and twining with yours. 

You moaned into him, your hips working against the bulge in his sweatpants as you writhed beneath him. Bucky groaned, trailing his hands down your arms to your sides, freeing your hands to dive into his soft brown hair. You yanked on it lightly while his hands groped your breasts in your shirt, then smoothed down your waist to grip your hips and grind himself into you.

“Bucky!” you cried, wrenching your lips from his as you clung to your best friend and writhed with him. You could feel his hard cock perfectly through the soft cotton of his sweatpants and the thin fabric of your lounge shorts. He was grinding against your clit, his lips kissing and sucking on your neck and all you felt was bliss. “Don’t stop, Bucky, please don’t stop,” you begged in a breathy voice. 

Bucky chuckled into the crook of your neck, suckling on your pulse point and groaning when you humped harder against him. “As if I could ever deprive you, doll,” he murmured, his voice warm and sweet and filling your mind with all the dirty things you could beg Bucky to do to you.

Dragging his face back to yours, you made out with Bucky, your kisses turning messy as you both got closer to the edge of your releases. Your bodies writhed together on your couch, your legs hitching around the backs of Bucky’s thighs to keep your clothed core grinding against his thick bulge. 

“Oh god, Bucky, I’m gonna—” Your words cut off on a sharp cry as Bucky rolled his hips, fucking you into couch like he was pounding into your cunt. The friction against your needy clit was perfect, and you felt the pleasure in your body surge, coiling tighter and tighter. 

“Come on, doll,” Bucky growled, his teeth nipping at your bottom lip. “Come all over your best friend’s bulge like the needy little thing you are.” He rocked his hips into yours, grinding his cock against your clit through your clothes, hitting the aching nub in just the way you needed.

The pleasure in your core snapped suddenly, and you let out a shrill cry as you came, your body going tight and taut as you clung to your best friend. Your legs held him close, your hands fisted in his hair while you moaned in his ear, your body shuddering beneath his bigger form while you rode out your release by grinding languorously against his bulge.

Then you heard Bucky groan into your neck, his hips stuttering in their rhythm as he kept humping against you. You felt a warmth between your thighs and shivered, knowing what it was and it only turning you on more that you’d made Bucky come without either of you taking off your clothes. 

A smile curled your mouth as you humped against your best friend’s twitching cock while as he came in his pants. He was groaning into your neck and you were clinging to him, feeling every trembling shudder that wracked his broad body.

“Fuck, fuck,” he muttered, riding out his pleasure by rubbing against your soaked core and milking every drop of come from his cock. “Fuck,” he groaned, drawing out the word and finally settling to lay on top of you as he collapsed. You lay entwined together for a long moment, simply enjoying each other. 

Then, Bucky pushed up on his hands and glanced down your bodies, where he’d made a mess of both his sweatpants and your shorts.

You couldn’t help but giggle, only laughing harder when Bucky shot you an accusatory look. “This is entirely your fault, y’know?” he grumbled, beginning to move off you carefully so he didn’t make an even bigger mess. “If you hadn’t felt so good coming under me…” 

You’d been about to make some flippant comment about how it’d feel much better if was inside you, but then Bucky shoved his sweatpants down and stepped out of them, walking bare-assed over to the laundry in the hallway. He turned to you expectantly, but your eyes were too busy taking in the sight of your best friend’s cock, still half-hard and swinging between his thick thighs. 

“Are you going to help me clean up, or are you gonna make me strip you out of those filthy clothes?” Bucky asked gruffly, playfulness in his tone. 

That snapped you out of your thoughts and you pushed yourself up off the couch, sauntering over to Bucky, enjoying the way his eyes drifted down to watch the sway of your hips. Once you were standing right in front of him, you tugged your shirt off over your head and pulled your shorts off, leaving you naked in front of your best friend.

Bucky’s jaw went slack, his eyes darkening as they took you in. “Christ, doll,” he muttered distractedly, his gaze taking in every inch of your bare skin with a greedy glint in his eyes. “You’re constantly surprising me.” 

“Well someone’s gotta keep you on your toes,” you teased, pushing up onto your tiptoes and pressing a kiss to Bucky’s lips before you darted around him and ran into the bathroom. You shut the door behind you and turned on the hot water, intent on taking a shower to clean up.

Before you could step beneath the warming spray, Bucky’s arms wrapped around your waist and he hauled you against his body. His thickening cock wedged between your ass cheeks and his breath ghosting over your cheek as he murmured into your ear.

“You’re gonna pay for that,” Bucky rumbled, his hand slipping between your thighs, two fingers dipping into your soaking wet slit. “You’re mine now—and I’m going to have so much fun making my girlfriend come all over my cock.” He pressed a kiss to your cheek, thrusting his fingers into your needy cunt, making your knees shake as you struggled to stay upright. 

All you could do was whimper and moan, clinging to Bucky’s arms and melting back against his chest. A smile played on your lips, though, as you realized you’d gotten exactly what you wanted—your best friend’s attention. And you knew you were going to enjoy every minute of that rainy spring afternoon with your boyfriend because Bucky, and his attention, was finally all yours.

[delulustateofmind]

Potions & Shadows (Azriel x Reader)

Summary: An old neighbor of Feyre's is revealed to be not who they seemed when Feyre was a child. Leadign to Feyre needing the once village apothecaries help. Inspired by Frieren: Beyond Journey's End.

A/n: I posted a preview a week or two ago. I enjoyed writing this one, I've been super busy at work and with a family wedding so probably won't have a part two anytime soon. Hope you enjoy! Thank you all for the support on my last few fics! :)

Word Count: 2.5k

Warmings: None? Let me know if there's any.

Feyre would often find herself lost in memories of their old neighbor, a mysterious figure from her childhood spent in the manor with her sisters. Little did she know, her encounter with the apothecary would soon unveil new mysteries. Years later, as Feyre bid farewell before their departure, she decided to revisit the familiar door, hoping to uncover the enigma of the past.

In the hustle of their impoverished days and the chaos of her transition to fae life, Feyre scarcely pondered the mystery. It wasn't until Nesta mentioned seeing the apothecary, unchanged from their childhood encounter, right before the human queen's arrival, that Feyre's curiosity stirred. She made a mental note to pay a quick visit to the apothecary's cottage down the road after their business with the queens concluded.

The meeting with the human queens did not end too well, though they did manage to secure the book. With Rhysand somewhat strict on their schedule, Feyre knew she couldn't risk being late. The crunch of the dirt path under her feet felt oddly familiar yet different in her new fae form. The smells of the pine trees now heightened, and the distant streams seemed closer than ever. Pulling her out of her trance, she arrived at the apothecary’s cottage.

The moss on the roof indicated the cottage had been there for centuries, perhaps even when the village was being built. Feyre walked up and knocked on the door, her heart pounding with anticipation. The shuffling of footsteps inside signaled someone approaching. When the door creaked open, Feyre was met with a familiar face.

A short woman stood before her, her scent unmistakably human, yet intertwined with a hint of something elusive. Her hazel green eyes, flecked with gold and blue hues, seemed to hold secrets as deep as the mountains' morning dew. The apothecary wiped her hands on her apron, stained with various herbs and powders, and greeted Feyre with a small sigh and a bright smile.

"It's you... but different?" she remarked, tilting her head curiously. Feyre released a breathy laugh. "Yeah, you could say I am a bit different... you're back," she whispered.

The apothecary moved aside, inviting Feyre into the familiar interior of the cottage. Bookshelves lined the walls, while towers of books stood around tables filled with bottles and concoctions. The atmosphere was comforting yet tinged with a sense of mystery. As the apothecary made tea, Feyre couldn't help but notice the intricate organization amidst the apparent chaos.

"No longer human, now a fae?" the apothecary mused as she prepared the tea. "Haven't seen that before." She smiled to herself, lost in thought for a moment before continuing. "I always thought you were human, I mean you don't seem fae," Feyre whispered.

"That's because I'm not fae, though I am considered a fae creature," the apothecary explained with a soft smile. "Long story short, as I have a feeling your companions only gave you a few moments to visit. I am half human, half-elven... one of the last of my kind."

Feyre looked puzzled before asking, "How come you don't age? I mean the human counterpart should... make you age, right?" The apothecary poured the tea, the pink hue swirling in the cup, before joining Feyre at the table. "You're right, I should age, but there's this thing called the 'settling.' It's based on mana. The more mana you have, the more likely to reach immortality."

The apothecary glanced up at Feyre with a soft smile. "I stopped aging around... don't know, maybe 19 or 20 years old?" Feyre looked at her in astonishment, trying to reconcile the fragile appearance with the revelation of her age. "How old are you now?" she asked softly.

You smiled, reminiscing about your past travels as you glanced at your spellbooks and then back at Feyre while taking a sip of your tea. "I am roughly 300 years old this year, give or take a few," you admitted with a hint of nostalgia. "You tend to lose count on the road."

Brushing your long hair aside, you pulled up your sleeve, revealing the insignia of an adventurer guild—a small blossom marking. "This is from my guild," you explained. "I'm a mage, so I embark on journeys from time to time. It's how I honed my skills in concocting medicines and remedies."

Feyre looked taken aback, unable to sense any magic radiating from you despite your mage status and half-elven heritage. She was filled with questions, but time was fleeting, and there was much to be done.

As Feyre finished her tea, she felt a sense of urgency creeping in. "Listen... there's something that might be coming, would you watch my sisters?" The apothecary met her gaze with a reassuring smile. "I leave tonight for another quest, but the wards should be stable around their house. I'll reinforce them before I leave."

With a nod of gratitude, Feyre rose from her seat, her mind buzzing with newfound revelations. Little did she know, her visit to the apothecary would mark the beginning of a journey fraught with unforeseen challenges.

******

Certainly, unforeseen challenges indeed. In fact, the wards failed to hold as Hybern seized Feyre’s sisters while you were away on your travels seeking new spell books, a hobby of yours. Across the continent, whispers of war spread like wildfire. Perhaps this was what Feyre had alluded to—a war brewing on the horizon? After completing your quest, you returned home to find a letter from Feyre—a proposition of sorts.

“War is coming, we need healers like you to join us. Let me know your response when you see this.” 

Magic paper? Intriguing, something you will inquire about later on. You write your response. Perhaps, a new adventure wouldn’t be bad. You’ve never visited Prythian before. Given that elves used to be seen as slaves there, that elves were seen to be just one step above humans, being a half-breed who know’s where that would place you. Feyre was kind though, you knew that from the moment you met her. A war would be brutal, if the fae were asking for help, that meant it would be serious enough to involve others. 

“Sure, I’ll give my commitment for a few years,” you wrote. The paper vanished almost instantly, leaving behind a faint scent of smoke—a curious phenomenon indeed. Moments later, a message appeared, promising someone would visit you at the cottage within hours. With a shrug, you began to pack your belongings, including spell books, herbs, clothes, and trinkets. You were prepared.

That's when you met Mor, a lively fae whose energy belied her formidable power. She winnowed you to the healer’s cottage, where Madja, the head healer, resided. Mor apologized and hurriedly departed, leaving you to converse with Madja. The healer welcomed you warmly, showing you to a modest room furnished with essentials. The bed with white bedding and an old green quilt laid on top. Madja pointed out that the nights here might be too cold for creatures like yourself. 

"Haven't seen a human in years," she remarked as she led you to the apothecary storage room. "But I sense something else about you," a twinkle in Madja’s eye hinted at her awareness of your half-elven heritage. You responded with a smile, "Most don’t catch on too quickly," you murmured.

Madja returned your smile, her expression warm yet knowing. "You're probably the last of your kind," she remarked casually, her tone tinged with humor. "Your kind was always more focused on mana and magic than finding love. Perhaps your human side will help you with that," she teased, reaching for a mortar and pestle.

"Now, kid," Madja continued, her demeanor shifting to business-like. "I want to see what you're capable of. Make a few hundred healing potions—some for minor cuts and bruises, and others for those foolish soldiers who find themselves impaled one too many times."

You immersed yourself in your work, with Madja checking in every few minutes to monitor your progress. Impressed by your efficiency, she peppered you with compliments, acknowledging your skill. Together, you labored until late afternoon, the sun casting long shadows across the cottage.

Feyre stopped by to offer a brief greeting before departing to attend to war preparations and assist her newly transformed sisters. Their transformation weighed heavily on your conscience—if only your wards had been stronger, perhaps you could have prevented their fate. Pushing aside the guilt, you ground a few more herbs, determined to focus on the task at hand. Or perhaps you were trying to push that guilt away by keeping yourself distracted. 

The soothing scent of herbs filled the room, mingling with Madja’s quiet humming—a melody unfamiliar to you yet strangely comforting. You found solace in the routine of potion-making, a respite from the chaos of the outside world.

As you worked, memories of your travels surfaced—the thrill of discovering new spells, the camaraderie of fellow adventurers, and the satisfaction of aiding those in need. Though your main quest was to collect spells, you found fulfillment in helping others, a testament to your kind-hearted nature.

Completing the last batch of potions, Madja introduced you to the other healers, who welcomed you with open arms. Over dinner, you exchanged stories of your respective lives—Madja sharing tales of her long existence, while you recounted your travels across distant lands. The other healers listened in awe, their curiosity piqued by your adventures beyond Velaris. Constantly asking questions of your adventures, asking about the dragons you’ve came across. About the handsome warriors that you went through dungeons with. A smile tugged your lips as you bid them goodnight and headed to your room. 

As you lay on your bed, enveloped by the chill of the night air, you found comfort in the warmth of the quilt that Madja had provided. Retrieving a book about defensive magic from your bedside table, you delved into its pages, seeking solace in the familiar words until sleep claimed you. 

****

As the end of the first week approached, you found yourself manning the desk, processing orders for sleeping tonics, stomach remedies, and various other mundane requests. It was the less exciting aspect of your work, but you understood the necessity of attending to such matters. After all, not every day could be spent brewing exotic potions and elixirs. Madja had left to replenish the inventory and wouldn't return until nightfall. Before her departure, she mentioned that someone from the court would be coming to collect a 'private' order and instructed you not to charge them.

As you cleaned the countertop, the door creaked open, and a chilling breeze swept into the room, carrying with it the scent of mist and cedar, tinged with a hint of blood. You looked up and found yourself locking eyes with a figure standing in the doorway. My stars, he was strikingly handsome in a deadly sort of way—a sight that momentarily stole your breath away. You recognized him as an Illyrian, though you had never seen one before. There was something about his wings that instilled a sense of fear in you, even though they remained folded tightly against his back, shrouding his features in shadows.

Azriel dipped his head in acknowledgment, his golden gaze piercing as he spoke in a low, almost hypnotic tone. "I am here to pick up a prescription," he stated, his voice like a captivating melody that seemed to draw you in.

You nodded, trying to maintain your composure as you retrieved the bag containing the requested item. It was a rare occurrence for you to feel flustered, especially in the presence of another. As you handed him the bag, your hands brushed briefly, and you couldn't help but feel a rush of warmth flood your cheeks. The label on the bag revealed its contents—a contraceptive tonic. Oh... he was an active male too.

Azriel murmured his thanks before casting a lingering gaze over you, his expression unreadable behind his hand. As he turned to leave, you couldn't shake the feeling of self-consciousness. Did you smell bad? Was your human heritage too obvious to the fae? Such thoughts raced through your mind as the door closed behind him, leaving you to ponder the encounter long after he had gone.

****

Azriel departed for the House of Wind, where a family dinner awaited. Elaine had begun emerging from her room, while Nesta remained ensconced in her moody disposition. Lucien had ventured to the continent, leaving an absence felt at the table. Feyre was already seated next to Rhys when Azriel arrived, discreetly passing the tonic to Cassian, who muttered a quick thanks before Azriel settled in beside him.

"I didn’t realize Madja had taken on a new apprentice," Azriel murmured, his gaze shifting to Mor as she joined Cassian. Feyre glanced at Azriel, her curiosity piqued. "You met her today? She’s a friend of mine from the village. I knew her growing up," she explained. Azriel took a sip of the wine passed to him by Cassian, his mind wandering to the petite healer who had left such an impression on him.

Elaine's transformation from human to fae had only heightened Azriel's attraction to her, raising questions about his preferences. Was he developing a preference for humans? Could he handle the brevity of their lifespans? Feyre's voice broke through his reverie, drawing his attention back to the conversation. "She’s half-elf too, are they rare?" she inquired.

Rhysand nodded, his expression softening as he delved into the history of elves and their dwindling numbers. "They used to be slaves for the Fae, around the same time as the humans," he began. "Perhaps that's why she has never been to Prythian until now."

He paused, his tone softening even further. "Also, the elves were known to lack emotions, which led to them not reproducing that often, ultimately to their demise. There’s a few around, but not many anymore."

As food was placed on the table, Azriel found himself consumed by thoughts of the healer. Her scent lingered in his mind, reminiscent of cherry blossoms on a warm day. Though he had only met her briefly, he felt an inexplicable pull toward her that tugged at his heartstrings. It was a feeling he had never experienced before.

An idea struck him. "Don’t we need to deliver the potions to the camps? I could help with that tomorrow, I finished the reports," Azriel suggested, turning to Rhysand. A smirk danced on the high lord’s lips—a silent understanding passed between them. "If you want," Rhysand replied casually, gesturing with a wave of his hand. "Perhaps show her around Velaris while you’re at it."

Azriel nodded, anticipation stirring within him. Tomorrow promised to be an intriguing day, his shadows seemed almost restless to meet the little healer again. A new sort of feeling fueled both him and his shadows.

[moineauz]

helooo, 1 ticket for Exodus, starring Boothill & gn Reader as main leads

𝄞⨾𓍢ִ໋ THE HOUSE OF MUSICA PRESENTS... 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐂𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐈𝐀 𝐒𝐘𝐌𝐏𝐇𝐎𝐍𝐘 𝐎𝐑𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐈𝐍𝐆 ノ𝐄𝐗𝐎𝐃𝐔𝐒 — boothill !

synopsis: a gradually rekindling bond between two ill-fated souls. in other words, you encounter a partner you never thought you'd see again.

side comments: not me writing more boothill... also this was partly inspired by the song too sweet by hoizer.

extra: boothill calls reader 'doll', uses the word pretty for the reader, mentions of alcohol, boothill and reader have their issues ig, gn reader, boothill backstory spoilers, fluff and angst word count: 1, 385

Being part of the IPC was like a ticket to an expressway: smooth sailing amongst galaxies and stars. You could have slipped your wrist in the rings of planets; allowing them to adorn your human flesh in glitter and gold.

"I reckoned the IPC would send one em' tonight," insinuated the man beside you, his voice husky and gruff, "Didn't think you'd fancy your whisky neat."

You share a winsome smile, still gazing ahead, lifting the glass to your lips unfazed, "Who said I couldn't have my whisky neat?"

The man scoffs before chuckling lowly, "Well, I thought the IPC are a little..." he leans forward, his cool breath brushing against the shell of your ear, "Soft, don't you think doll?"

The bar is thronged that evening. Chatter warms the walls while candlelight swishes above in scintillating opulence. One chime after another, click and sway, swish and pull. Your ears heed the bar lines of inordinate movements like a song. Even the subtle whirl of the man's arms and the click of his heel is oddly pleasant.

"And I thought galaxy rangers keep to themselves," you languidly turn your head to meet his face; fixing your eyes on his like the head of an arrow kissing its bullseye. "A shame I have to endure your presence. Considering you're a ranger, you're awfully loud," you riposted.

"Ha! You don't know what you're missin' doll," the man teases, yet, there is an edge to it, "Do all IPC members talk like that? All bark and no bite?"

"I'd like to say bite and no bark," you reckon smoothly, like velvet curtains draping over the walls. "Why waste your breath when all you need is a single shot?"

A splitting grin grows on his face while he shakes his head charmed, "Now you're talkin' my language doll! One bullet does make a heck of a difference."

You bite the insides of your cheek, your jaw tight before him, "Spare me the small talk Boothill," you retorted placidly: a facade of indifference casting a shadow over your face. "You know I don't fancy playing cat and mouse in your boots."

"Oh you never change," he chides, placing his left shoulder on the bar's smooth counter. Boothill's face rested in his metal palms as his shiny eyes settled on you. "That's your only fault."

The corner of your lips quiver slightly, he doesn't notice. "Even metal carries its dents," you pause, your words suspending in the air's murky atmosphere, "And it seems you carry that burden quite well."

Boothill stills as you call for another fill. Whisky trickles into your glass; swishing in hues of sweet amber. It soothes the bitter lump in your throat as it gushes down sip after sip like the ocean current churning away.

Silence draws you closer; knitting you together. You heave a sigh, gingerly placing the glass on the counter, not a sound echoing above. "You always drank your whisky neat," you remarked bitterly, "And you always got drunk afterwards."

Boothill's smiles echo some ineffable tenderness and it caresses your cheek despite its distance. "Ha! Don't make me all sappy over here doll, might have to bring her out if you keep this up." Despite his words, Boothill's voice is strangely hushed: hollow like the crevices of a skeleton. Or a body that doesn't quite fit its soul.

You smile, pushing the bounds of his words with your voice, "Then bring her out Boothill. It's been some time since I last saw your precious gun. A shame you hold her so much closer."

"As sharp as ever," Boothill conceded; twirling the gun like a toy. Its varnish slick like butter as it glistened under candlelight. "Seems I have to up my ante."

In one swift movement, Boothill instinctively slips his nippy hands around your waist: his belt of bullets pressed against your hips with benign familiarity. His other hand intertwines with yours, like the lacing of a corset- tight and tender. Boothill lifts your arm, raising it with frivolous flare accompanied by a wicked grin. Your shoes click against the bar's smooth surface and Boothill leans forward. The shadows of his bright face made known to you anew. Now, the two of you stand, one breath apart.

"Seems like old habits die hard," he mutters, his eyes following the curve of your lips and the pools of your eyes, "Can't help it when you keep sittin' here all pretty. Sippin' whisky for fudger's sake..."

You raise your eyebrow tentatively before an unabashed smile stretches across your face and you giggle. Your laugh slips through the air like a fine mist and Boothills breathes it in. The cogs of his chest whirl a touch faster as you sparkle in all your quiet limelight: tucked away in a corner bar, it beats boldly one step at a time

"Looks like the IPC employee can laugh," Boothill teases, the jazz band kicking off its rhymes with the beckoning call of the trumpet.

"Is that all you think of me?" you surmised, a mirthful expression pressed against your skin, "I expected better from you," you teased.

"Shallow?" Boothill muses, the band's drummer now pushing the song as you and Boothill shuffle to the center of the bar, feet moving as one, "I'm all but shallow; especially when I'm dancing."

You press your hand on his metal shoulder, the spark in your eyes dimming slightly, "Then show me."

Being part of the IPC was like a ticket past the waiting rooms and into the hospital bed: refuge under the captive's wings. You could have laid your heart there to rest; allowing yourself to be part of a grand tapestry, one of them.

"Looks like you still have it in you after all this time," remarks Boothill as his fingers find their way to your waist, "One more song?"

"I've had enough," you state, yet, the roused smile on your face still beams, "It's late."

Boothil clicks his tongue. "Come on... just like the old times, wouldn't hurt for another spin," surmised Boothill, his voice oddly mellow with a trace of dejection.

"You don't want to dance," you rebutted, "You want to talk."

You slip your hand off his metal body, its coolness lingering on your fingertips like a ghost. Boothill blinks, his hands now fallen by his sides, the grin on his face tight as he shakes his head.

"I'd reckon you'd... catch on. You always had bigger fish to fry."

"You know I hate fish."

Boothill chuckles. However, it's mellow and lush. Reminiscent of the open plains the three of you once wandered. Sweetgrass brushing against your legs in rhythm with the breeze. The cusp of the morning sun nestled in the palms of your hands like a nest. In the evenings you lingered amongst free horses; braiding through the stars and their lush mane while weaving through riverbeds, singing sweet dreams.

"I miss the kid too."

Boothill smiles, "I know."

"Then keep your promise," you amble towards him, your shoulders in parallel as you promptly seize his hat, swiftly placing it on your head. "If you want your hat back," you jested, "Meet me at the bar when you're done catching your 'Acheron.'"

Boothill smirks, placing his hands on his hips, languidly leaning to the side, "And why would I do that? I've got plenty of hats."

You scoff, "Is that so? Then I guess I don't owe you my answer."

Boothill pauses abruptly, his eyes wide, "You-"

"I still have the ring," you interject, a subtle quiver emerging from the back of your voice, "But I never gave you my answer."

"Doll I-"

"You vanished before I could give you my answer."

Boothill grows quiet and you sigh. Neverthless, you slip your business card into his pockets and press a curt kiss on his cheek, his hat still on your head, "So keep your promise, Boothill."

Boothill nods; heaving a prompt sigh before gazing up at the ceiling, a spark flickering within the corners of his eyes, "I won't let you down."

"Good," you surmise, gradually ambling away, his back still turned from you and vice versa, "I won't let you down."

Boothill grins quietly, muttering to himself as the aroma of whisky clings onto his metal body, "You never did, not once doll. Not once."

masterlist.

[whatsk-poppinhomies]

Pairing : Hwang Hyunjin x F!Reader TW : reader is pregnant ; Hyunjin is stressed ; small argument ; reader breaks up with Hyunjin ; Hyunjin regret ; it's mainly angst ; no happy ending ; Word Count : 7.4k A/N : I'm back! Gonna try to write as much as I can before my new job starts!! Request : Anonny : Can you do an angsty Hyunjin Drabble we’re Hyunjin snaps at her because he’s stressed and she’s pregnant but she thinks he snapped because he knows about her pregnancy so she leaves him and he regrets everything and grovels a lot

“Hey baby…” Hyunjin murmured as he walked through the front door, the dark circles under his eyes evident in the bright fluorescent light that hung above the landing. His schedule was grueling nowadays and the jet lag that he experienced had him in so many different time zones you didn’t know how his body was able to handle it. He didn’t even have time to adjust to different sleep schedules before he was being whisked away once again. “Gonna go wash up…” He trudged to the bathroom, the sound of water rushing through the pipes filled the otherwise empty house. 

It was always like this, you barely even talked to him anymore other than the short greeting when he walked through the front door. You knew he loved you though, he just didn’t have the energy to really act on the feeling anymore like he used to. You still loved him too, and you’d be there for him no matter what. There was one small… well… Small right now problem… Well, not actually a problem, but it was something that had you slightly on edge. 

You had found out you were pregnant, and it’s not like you didn’t want to tell Hyunjin, it just felt like there was never a right time to tell him. He was always gone, and when he came home you didn’t want to bother him with something this big when he already had so much to worry about. It had only been 2 weeks since you took the test, and while you weren’t a fan of hiding things like this, you were still in that timeframe where anything could happen… So it would be unnecessary to even tell him right now when anything could go wrong. 

The more you thought about it, it became very evident to you that the trashcan in the bathroom hadn’t needed to be cleared since you took the test. He had been gone for so long, you hadn’t even thought to hide the evidence. It completely slipped your mind, and now you were thinking way too hard, you were panicking. You couldn’t just run in there and take the trash out, he’d question what you were doing. What if he had already seen it? What if he had seen the boxes? What if he looked in the trashcan and saw the positive tests? 

Everything might have been quiet in the house, but your thoughts were so loud, and when the water finally shut off and the shower curtain slid open you had barely heard it. It wasn’t until his damp feet padded across the hardwood floors that you lifted your head and saw him coming closer, a towel hanging around his neck to catch the droplets of water that fell from the ends of his hair. 

He moved right past the couch that you were sitting on and dropped down into the chair on the other side of the room. It’s not like there wasn’t any room right next to you though… It’s like he didn’t want to sit next to you. Did he find out? Was he mad? He seemed alright when he came through the front door, sure, maybe a bit tired, but that wouldn’t make him want to sit on the complete opposite side of the room… right? 

“How was your-” You started, but he let out a loud groan, his fingers coming up to pinch the bridge of his nose. Was he annoyed? Was it because you hadn’t told him? He had to have found out, that’s the only reason you could think of. Your top teeth came down into your bottom lip, a sharp breath shooting in between your teeth as you stared at him. 

“I’m not ready.” He muttered, and while you didn’t let on outwardly, those three words had your stomach twisting into the tightest knots. Your mouth opened, not even to speak, just to breathe, but his eyes rolled and your lips quickly snapped shut. “Just, don’t talk please. I’m not ready. There’s just too much going on.” 

Your head nodded slowly until you were looking straight down at your lap, your fingers twirling around themselves as nervousness and panic completely took over. He found out, he knew, and he didn’t want to know anything about it… He didn’t want anything to do with you or the life growing inside of you right now. He was too busy. “Sorry…” You mumbled, holding your breath to keep yourself from crying right then and there. 

“Maybe I should just stay with the guys tonight…” He proposed, and it’s not like you were going to tell him not to. It’s not like you even had time to try to talk him out of it if you wanted to, he was getting up already, tossing his towel into the hamper next to the washer and then going back to the front door, grabbing his keys off the hook and walking out. Not a goodbye, not an “I love you”... nothing. He just… left. 

///

“It’s just overwhelming being home after so long…” Hyunjin explained to Chan as he fell onto the couch, his hands running over his face as he let out a loud sigh. “And I know she misses me, and I miss her too… I just can’t sleep, I’m not hungry yet and my schedule is so messed up, I don’t want to bother her with all of that.” 

Chans head nodded slowly in agreement, but then he stopped, his eyes narrowed and his eyebrows lowered to cast shadows over his already darkened eyes. “You… did tell her that… right? You told her all of that… Right?” He questioned, and Hyunjins head fell as he let out a dejected sigh. Of course he didn’t tell you that. If he did, you’d just give up more of your time to try to help him. “So you just left… For no reason? And you think that when you return home, everything will be fine?” 

“I’m not stupid, hyung. I know that things won’t be fine.” Hyunjin muttered, letting out an even heavier sigh which turned to a yawn. “But I have another out of country promotion thing coming up, so I’m thinking that I’ll just stay here until I leave for that, and then I’ll have a break when I get back to talk to her. It’ll give me time to get back on a schedule that lines up with hers and I’ll be able to actually be with her.” 

He could read on Chans face that he wasn’t on board with the plan at all, but he didn’t speak a word about it, instead just shaking his head as he pushed himself up off the couch. “If that’s what you think will work, fine. I won’t interfere with your relationship, you know her best. I’m just hoping that you make the right decision, for your sake, and for hers.” There wasn’t much else to say anyway, deep down Hyunjin knew that his decision making was flawed in some way or another, it’s just that he didn’t know what else to do. 

Leaving the way he did left no room for error, the way he left was an error in itself. He might not let on that he knows it was a mistake, but it was, he knew it was. There would undoubtedly be an argument once he did come home, and the time that he was giving the both of you between then and now was mainly to prepare himself for that argument. He hated fighting with you, but being as busy as he always was had him constantly on edge. It’s not like he meant to take it out on you either, he really tried not to, that’s why he left as well. He was just so damn tired. He hoped that you’d understand. 

///

“So you’re… pregnant… and you left? You just walked out?” Your friend asked as you sat in her living room, your eyes burning from the tears that you had cried earlier whilst explaining everything to her. “You’re sure that he knows? Like, 100% sure? This seems like… And I’m not disregarding your feelings at all… But, your hormones are most likely surging and, I don’t want you to make this kind of decision based on a whim… You know?” 

You knew where she was coming from, she always thought more logically than most, and that’s why you had gone to her specifically to talk to her about what was going on. “Why else would he say that? Why else would he just walk out the way that he did? He didn’t even tell me that he loved me… It’s like… Like he realized he doesn’t love me now that he found out I’m having his kid.” And you crumbled once again, a blubbering mess curled up into yourself on her couch, and no amount of back rubs or consolations were going to make you feel any better. “I mean… I know that we never really talked about having children… And he’s been so busy lately… I just didn’t think he’d react like this…” 

She let out a slow breath, she was clearly thinking, but she also knew that right now, you didn’t need realistic thoughts or “what ifs”, you just needed her to be there for you, and that’s what she’d be. “Everything will be okay… I’ll help you no matter what you decide to do.” You fell against her shoulder, letting yourself cry to the point of your eyes feeling so heavy that you could barely keep them open, and you eventually fell asleep. At least in your dreams, this hadn’t happened. Your subconscious mind hadn’t fully come to terms with the events of the day, and in your mind, you and Hyunjin were still happy, and your vivid imagination played out a reality where he and you raised your child together, in a loving home, one where he wasn’t so busy, one where he was actually excited to be a father. 

Upon awakening, you immediately checked your phone. A thin sliver of hope that maybe he had messaged you, maybe he’d want to talk about what had happened and why he reacted the way he did. Maybe he’d apologize, maybe he’d explain things… but there was nothing. There were no calls or texts, hell, you even checked your email just in case… It’s like he walked out and completely forgot that you existed. 

“Sleep well?” Your friend asked as she turned the corner from the kitchen, her head tilted as she watched you look through your phone, and the cheerful smile she had been wearing just a millisecond before faded to a frown as she walked to sit beside you. “Let’s not worry about that, yeah? We can order in tonight, watch some movies, really get your mind off of things?” 

You nodded in agreement, mainly because she was trying so hard, you weren’t going to shoot down her attempts at trying to cheer you up. She was doing the best she could as your friend, and she couldn’t just bring Hyunjin to you or force him to explain… That was something he had to decide to do on his own. 

There was nothing though, nothing that could be done to actually get your mind off of what was happening. You couldn’t stop thinking about the fact that you’d most likely be a single mother, that Hyunjin wanted nothing to do with you or his child. He wasn’t ready, he didn’t have the time to be around for things like that. He was responsible for so many other things, he had so much on his shoulders, how was he possibly supposed to juggle everything that he was already dealing with and being a father on top of that? 

“You pick the movie and I’ll order the food, okay?” She patted your knee after passing you the remote, giving you a smile, but it felt more apologetic. She felt sorry for you. Everyone would pity you… Or maybe they’d pity him. They wouldn’t listen to your side of the story, especially the fans. They’d take his side regardless of what you say. He was perfect, and you had essentially stolen him from them in the first place. They hated you from the beginning, they would find any reason to break you down further. 

Or, maybe they’d be happy that you made this decision. They could go back to their delusional thoughts, their dreams that they’d actually have a chance with him now that you were out of the picture. You didn’t want to deal with all of that though. You didn’t want any of this to be made public, you wanted to disappear. That’s exactly what you’d do… You didn’t need him to message you, you didn’t need an explanation…. It would be better for you and your child to be free of him. Maybe… Hopefully, he’d avoid you long enough and just forget about you, forget about the baby, forget about everything. 

///

“She hasn’t texted you back yet?” Felix asked Hyunjin who was doubled over the kitchen counter, visibly shaking from crying, yet no sound was coming out, not anymore. “Look, I’m sure there’s a reason… What was the last thing you said to her?” Felix, who hadn’t been told of everything that had happened prior to Hyunjins return for his promotions, was just trying to help as much as he could. 

“Nothing… I didn’t say anything to her…” Hyunjin gasped out, finally lifting his head to reveal his eyes that were puffy and red, but underneath the redness was a darker purple from lack of sleep. “She took… Everything. All of her stuff is gone. She left.” And with that reflection came another round of tears. “Chan hyung was right… I know he thought I was stupid… my plan was stupid…” 

Felix was baffled to say the least, and on top of that, quite disappointed in his friend who had spent the last 3 years gushing over how much he loved you and how he couldn’t wait to spend the rest of his life with you. How could Hyunjin have fumbled so badly? “Let me get this straight… You haven’t talked to her at all? What happened?” Now, Felix was no expert on relationships, but he was sure that he could help in some way. There had to be something he could do to help Hyunjin get you back. Things couldn’t be so bad that there was no hope. 

“I left… I walked out… And and… It wasn’t her fault… But I did it wrong. I didn’t say goodbye and I didn’t tell her I loved her…” There was still hope though, it’s not like Hyunjin would have ghosted you while he was gone… It was almost a whole month of traveling. He couldn’t go that long without talking to you. Hell, he couldn’t even go that long without talking about you. “I knew I messed up, and I thought… Maybe a little bit of time would make things better. I thought I’d be able to talk to her when I got back because now I have a break… But she’s gone.” 

“So you just… Nothing? No communication at all…?” Felixs teeth gritted together, all thoughts of being able to help had been thrown out the window as Hyunjin shamefully nodded his head. “So this… this might be fixable still… you know… with a lot of work. A lot of communication and explanations… This could still work.” But even Hyunjin knew that Felix was just trying to take away some of the sting, give him just a bit of false hope so he could at least sleep easier tonight, but none of it would work. Hyunjin knew the mistakes he had made had cost him an entire 3 year relationship. He fucked up, and there was no coming back from it. 

“I’m not stupid, Felix…” The words came out as an exasperated sigh, he didn’t need false hope, he needed you back, and that was the one thing he wasn’t going to get. “I’ve tried to call her, it goes straight to voicemail. My texts won’t even go through. She blocked me. She wants nothing to do with me. I can’t fix things, I don’t even know where she’s at.” He ran his hands rather roughly through his hair, strands getting stuck and yanked out between his fingers, only worrying Felix more. Hyunjin was beyond stressed at this point, he was stressed and depressed, and those two are a very bad combination. 

“How about you just not think about it for a bit. Just… Focus on literally anything else.” At this point Felix was pleading. Seeing Hyunjin like this, although it was solely Hyunjins fault, was devastating and beyond worrisome. He didn’t know what Hyunjin would do, he didn’t know how bad Hyunjin could get, he didn’t even know if this was the worst of it. He didn’t like seeing his best friend like this. 

Hyunjin scoffed, an unamused smirk stretching across his face. “Oh? Focus on something else, like I’ve been doing? That’s the reason I lost her in the first place. I’m tired of having to focus on so much other shit that I can’t even focus on my own girlfriend!” His voice continued to rise in volume and pitch, and now Felix was downright scared. “I lost the love of my life because I put everything else in front of her! I made everything else my priority! You see where that gets me!” 

Felix stumbled back, scared to even attempt to make eye contact at this point. “Look, I get that you’re mad at yourself right now, and that’s fair… But you need to calm down…” Hyunjin wouldn’t do anything to hurt him, he was sure of that, but his hands instinctively moved out in front of him to keep some space between himself and Hyunjin, just in case his words upset Hyunjin even more. “Maybe she needs some time… Maybe she’ll come back to you. You can't just… You can’t be going off like this…”

A laugh, almost maniacal, escaped Hyunjins lips, his head falling back as the sound seemed to vibrate the whole room. “Calm down… Calm down?! How?! How am I supposed to calm down!? Would you stay calm during a situation like this?! If you ruined your entire relationship would you just be calm!?” He continued shouting, and Felix knew that at this point there was no use. He would either descend completely into madness, or he’d come to his senses and realize that he’s acting absolutely crazy right now. “I need to go out, I need a drink or something.” Hyunjin mumbled, and while Felix knew that a drink was the last thing that Hyunjin needed, there was no use trying to stop him, there was no use trying to talk to him, there was no use trying to do anything to help right now. 

///

“You’re in a good mood today. What’s got you so happy?” Your friend asked, noticing that you were smiling at your phone for the last 15 minutes at least. “Did you get a new boyfriend or something?” You whipped your head up long enough to scowl at her, and she laughed lightly as she leaned back against the couch. “Okay, no boyfriend… So, what is it?” 

You turned your phone in her direction and waved it back and forth as you exclaimed. “I got the apartment that I’ve been looking at. It’s affordable and big enough for myself and the baby.” You dropped your hand down to your lap, clicking off your phone and letting out a soft sigh. “I’ll miss staying with you though… You’ll have to visit me a lot.” 

She snorted loudly, leaning forward and reaching over to grab your hand. “I know that you felt like you needed to do this, but I wouldn’t have minded you staying here. The company was nice…” The corners of your mouth pulled down into a frown at the sentiment, it was too late to go back now that you had already agreed and the landlord was in the process of getting the leasing papers. “Hey, no pouting. I’ll be over your place so much that it’ll be like I live there.” 

Maybe it was the hormones that had tears prickling at the corners of your eyes, or maybe it was just the fact that you had become so comfortable staying at your friend's apartment that you know how you’d actually do this on your own. Now you wouldn’t have anyone, not Hyunjin, and not even her. “Promise?” You whimpered, and a sympathetic smile spread across her face as she dabbed at your tears with the sleeve of her hoodie. 

“I promise. I’m gonna be like the second mom that the baby never asked for.” You laughed weakly at the joke before finally taking a deep breath and getting up, your friend moving right alongside you. “So when is the next appointment? I wanna know what our baby is gonna be, hmm!” You rolled your eyes, but it felt nice to hear someone, anyone, call the baby ours and not just yours… 

“Next week…” You murmured as you walked into the kitchen to grab a drink and she followed right behind you. “Is it okay to be scared? I mean… Once I find out… that makes it more real. I still feel alone… And I know that you’re here and I’m so happy that you are… I don’t know what I would have done without you here… But he’s… I still have dreams about him… What it would be like to have him as a part of the baby’s life.” 

“That’s normal…” She reassured you, stepping around the counter to rub your back in soothing circles. “Just because you got rid of him doesn’t mean that your heart or your mind can or will get rid of him. He’s the father of that baby, regardless of whether he wants to act the part or not, and you won’t forget that.” And once again you were sniffling, your head falling against her shoulder as she consoled you. She put up with a lot for you, and for that you felt awful, even if she said she didn’t mind. You truly didn’t know what you’d do without her. 

///

Hyunjin had slowly begun to get back to his normal routine, although he still missed you, at least during the day he was able to act like he was okay. The same couldn’t be said about nighttime though, he’d lay in bed scrolling through his pictures of you and just cry. 6 months was a long time to be away from someone, and most people would think that it was enough time to get over someone… But it was hard to get over a person if that person was the one that you were in love with. 

Daylight hours though, he was the Hyunjin that everyone knew and loved. The only thing that was different was that he didn’t talk about you anymore, and it’s not that he didn’t try to, it’s just that the guys would stop him before he could even get a word out. 

It had been weeks now since he had last tried to even bring you up, and all of the guys really thought they were beginning to get somewhere. Sure, they’d still hear him crying at night, but they were really hoping that soon he’d be able to move on, maybe not to another girl, but move on from his mistakes, use them as a lesson in the future for what not to do. 

“We should go to the cafe since we’ve got a break, yeah?” Felix suggested as he sat against the mirrored wall beside Hyunjin in the practice room. “I think we deserve to reward ourselves after all of our practice. Plus, I know your ass would never turn down an iced americano, so let’s go.” Hyunjin chuckled as he and Felix both got up off the floor, heading to the door. 

“We should go to my favorite place, they’ve got the best pastries and I’m so hungry.” Felix nodded along to the suggestion, anything to make Hyunjin happy and keep him happy. What both of the guys didn’t know though, was that Hyunjins favorite cafe had become your favorite cafe as well. It’s not like you could help the cravings that seemed to come almost overnight the further along you got in your pregnancy. 

The walk was short, it was within a block of the building, and maybe that’s why Hyunjin had come to like it so much. It wasn’t just the taste of the beverages and the treats, it was the convenience of it as well. Not just that, but there were memories there, memories that he tried to keep at the back of his mind, but just the sight of the familiar storefront sign had the memories flooding in. He couldn’t help but think back on all the days that he’d meet you there during your lunch breaks, holding hands with you across the table as you both talked about your days. Where did it all go wrong? 

“Oh look!” Felix announced, breaking the silence of the otherwise quiet walk. “It must be the anniversary of the cafe opening or something. They’ve got balloons all out front.” Hyunjins eyes were drawn to the pink and white orbs that floated in the front of the shop. Over the five years that he had been going there, he had never seen them do anything like that before for anniversaries, but maybe this one was important. 

“That’s cute… Maybe they’ll have some specials or something.” Hyunjin joked, his pace picking up slightly at the thought of a discounted treat. Things were starting to get a little weird now though as he and Felix got closer. There had never been so many cars parked out front of the cafe at once, and as he glanced through the window, he could see pink and white streamers hanging from the ceiling. “Is someone having a party?” He questioned, and Felix peaked in as well, but ultimately shrugged his shoulders. 

“I’m sure they’re not using the whole cafe, come on. We can probably still get a seat.” Felix pushed through the door, the chime above the door ringing out and letting the employees and everyone else in the cafe know they were there. “Looks like a baby shower… I’ve never known of people having baby showers at cafes… That’s new.” He mused, pointing to the banner that hung above the counter. 

“Is it just me… or did it get like… really awkward in here…” Hyunjin whispered, noticing the way the entire cafe seemed to go silent upon their entrance. He couldn’t help but feel antsy under the gazes of so many people. “Maybe we should just go back after we order…” 

“Or it could just be because we’re famous… Come on… Don’t make me walk back yet. My feet are tired.” Felix playfully whined, and Hyunjin relented. He was sure that Felix was right, sometimes it was easy to forget that he was an idol, especially when he was out doing normal things like getting coffee with his best friend. “Maybe if the parents know of us, they’ll ask us to take pictures. I wouldn’t mind doing that. That would be so cool actually.” Felix continued to think out loud after ordering the drinks and the pastries, Hyunjin following along as they walked to a table closer to the back. 

By that time, it seemed like the people that had already been there for the baby shower were talking amongst themselves, quieter now, and Hyunjin was trying so hard not to be pessimistic, he was trying to truly believe what Felix had said, but there was just this feeling in his stomach that these people weren’t shocked or in awe at the fact that the two of them had shown up. They were angry. Then, the chime above the door rang out, and a unified chorus of “surprise” was cheered. That’s when Felix almost choked on his drink, his eyes widening as he set his eyes upon the new “customer”. 

“There is no fucking way…” Felix muttered, and it’s not like he’d be able to keep Hyunjin from looking, it’s not like they wouldn’t pass by the party anyway on the way out. If something were to happen, it was bound to happen, regardless of how much Felix tried to keep it from happening, so he decided not to try at all. All he could do was hold his breath as he watched Hyunjin turn around in his seat and then completely freeze when his eyes landed on you. 

It wasn’t just you though, there was someone else… Although they weren’t visible right now, they weren’t standing beside you… They were growing inside of you. You had to be 6… maybe 7 months pregnant by now… And it was all starting to make sense to Hyunjin now… At least in his head. That’s why you left. You had gotten pregnant by someone else while he was away, that had to be the reason. What other reason was there for you to just leave the way you did without saying a single word. This whole time he had thought that it had been his fault… But you had cheated on him. You cheated and you didn’t even have the common decency to tell him before you left. 

“Wow! Congratulations!” Hyunjin cheered snarkily as he loudly pushed his chair back and got up, clapping his hands together so hard that it almost echoed off the walls. “Crazy that of all places I finally get to see you again, it’s at your baby shower! Is that why you left, huh? You just couldn’t stay faithful while I was away and you managed to get knocked up! Where’s the father? Where is he, hmm!? I just wanna talk to him!” His voice started rising in pitch and getting louder and louder, something that Felix had seen before, and even though he was upset as well, he didn’t want Hyunjin to do something that he might end up regretting. 

“What are you talking about?” You managed to say through tears and sobs, your arms seeming to instinctively wrap around your stomach to protect it from Hyunjins anger. “Stop trying to act so innocent just because you’re out in public! Or did you not even tell Felix?! Or maybe you just conveniently forgot that you’re the one that walked out on me because you found out I was pregnant and you didn’t want to deal with it!” 

“WHAT?!” Both Hyunjin and Felix said the word at the same time, both of their expressions mirrored right beside each other as they stared at you, their mouths agape and their eyes so wide it looked like they might fall out. “Wait… Just.. Hold on a second!” Hyunjin stammered, his arms going up in defense as everyone in the room started to get more angry. “You’re… You’re saying… The baby is mine?!” 

You let out a sigh of disbelief, your hand running shakily through your hair, but Hyunjin couldn’t seem to take his eyes off your stomach that was rounded out, like a volleyball was placed under your shirt. It’s not like he had never seen a pregnant woman before, but to see the woman that he was head over heels in love with, pregnant… it was something that he couldn’t wrap his mind around, especially now that he knew the baby was his. “I just want to go… I want to go home…” You whimpered to your best friend who had her arm wrapped protectively around your waist. 

“No! No wait!” Hyunjin practically screamed when you started to turn around, his hand reaching out to grab your upper arm and keep you from moving any further. “Why didn’t you tell me? Why would you just walk out? Were you just going to… hide it… from me?” His voice got softer, wavering a little as his eyes glassed over, finally looking at you, and the prominent frown on your face had his heart aching even more. 

“Stop pretending… Stop… Hyunjin, you already knew.” The words came out as a single breath, exhausted already from the back and forth of it all. “You didn’t have to tell me… I knew why you left. You saw the test in the bin… You didn’t even want to talk about it. You left… You didn’t tell me you loved me, and it doesn’t matter how long it’s been… It still hurts…” You never turned around to face him, but he didn’t need to see your face to know that you were holding your breath, your cheeks slightly puffed out, something that he always found to be adorable, but now that it was because of him, he was devastated. You didn’t want him to see you cry, you didn’t want him to hear that you were choked up, but he knew… 

It wasn’t making sense though. “Y/N…” He whispered your name, stepping closer, feeling the glares of everyone around him, but it didn’t stop him. He wouldn’t hesitate. Even if you didn’t want to get back with him, even if nothing was fixed by this conversation… “I would never leave… Not because of this. If I knew… I would have sat down and talked to you about it… I would have… I would have done things differently. I was stupid, but not because I found out you were pregnant. I was stupid because I was stressed, I was so tired from work and… I thought that I had made a mistake before… But now I can see how big that mistake was. I didn’t just lose you… I lost you and… and my baby…” He needed you to know that everything, every thought that had been filling your head about what you thought had happened, that it was wrong. 

Even still, you didn’t turn around, but your shoulders slumped and he could see the deep breath that you took when they raised back up. “You didn’t even call me… I tried to call you, but you didn’t answer. You don’t know the hell that I went through… To try to get over you… And I still haven’t. I don’t think I ever will because… I’ll always have her as a constant reminder of you… And I hate that, but I’d never hate her for being born by a father who couldn’t have cared less.” 

Those words hurt, they hurt more than anything else you had said, because you truly thought that low of him. “You think I don’t care?” He questioned, and you finally turned around, your mascara running down your cheeks with every tear that spilled over, and you simply nodded. “You’re wrong… I care more than you know. I can’t sleep at night… Because I fucked up so bad… And now I have… I have a daughter…” His voice broke, his head falling back and his adams apple bobbing as he swallowed thickly, trying to remove the lump from his throat. “Now that I know… I don’t… What am I supposed to do? I’m not just going to… Move on and… And act like I don’t have a child… Like I’m not still in love with you…” 

“Hyunjin stop…” You muttered, your head shaking as your eyes dropped to the ground. “What do you think saying all this is going to do, huh? If it wasn’t for Chae… I don’t know what I would have done. I would have had to do all this by myself… Because… Because fine, you didn’t know I was pregnant… But you still walked out on me. You put your job before me, above me… You always have…” 

“I know…” Hyunjins head solemnly nodded, you were right, it had been one of the constant arguments that the two of you would have been he still had you, but he had been too blind to see that it would be his biggest downfall. “I know I did, and I regret it, and I’ll regret it even more now. I’ve changed though… And I don’t know what’s going to happen, but I know what I want to happen. I want to be a part of her life… Whether what I want happens or not… Can I at least have that…?” 

///

“So… You’re still single… I’m still single… I don’t know what you’re holding off for…” Hyunjin teased as he helped you hang the banner across the wall. “We’re great at coparenting… I mean, can you imagine what it would be like if we were one unit? We’d be unstoppable. We’d be the coolest parents ever! Not to mention, the hottest parents at school pickup when she’s older.” 

You rolled your eyes. He always managed to find a way to have some sort of variation of the same conversation every single time he came over. He was relentless. “Mm… Don’t fix what’s not broken, haven’t you heard that saying before?” You chimed, stretching up on your toes to try to even out the banner that he seemed to put just high enough for you not to reach on purpose. He stepped behind you, his breath hitting your neck and sending shivers down your spine as he grabbed your end and hung it for you. “You’re such a dork…” You mumbled as you turned around, your breath catching in your throat when you realized just how close his face was to yours. 

“And I’m once again asking if I could be your dork… again…” He smiled hopefully, his head tilted to the side, and although you had admitted to yourself multiple times already that you still loved him, that he was the only man that you’d ever be able to love, that you wanted nothing more than to get back with him… There was always going to be that part of you that worried about him going back to the way he used to be. Going through it once was enough, and you had come to terms that yeah, maybe part of it was your fault for jumping to conclusions and leaving the way you had, but he had been in the wrong as well, and you refused to go through that again, especially now that you had a child to protect as well. 

“But you are my dork…” His eyes lit up momentarily, and you giggled lightly, taking the momentary lapse of attention as a way to slip away. “I still have to put up with your antics almost daily, and you’re over my apartment every day.” He was following you around now as you straightened the decorations that had already been resituated a million times today. “Did you get the cake?” You turned to look at him, his pursed lips and the already guilty look on his face had you groaning loudly. 

“Calm down, baby.” He cooed, and you hated how much you missed hearing him call you that. “I already got it, it’s in the fridge. Have more faith in me… I’m not an absolute pabo.” Your lips pulled into a straight line as you stared at him, but when he remained silent you snorted loudly. “What? What?! Would a pabo make such a beautiful, intelligent, silly, baby girl? Hmm? Would he?” 

“Yes, yes he would.” You retorted with a giggle. “Because the pabo is very handsome, and very silly. She got her smarts from me though.” His lips pulled down into an overly dramatic pout and you playfully pushed against his chest as you shook your head. “Let me take credit for her intelligence, she’s only pretty and silly because you’re her dad. Luckily she looks a lot like you. Although we’re gonna have our work cut out for ourselves when she gets to school.” 

You went to step around him, but his hands landed on your hips, stopping you from any further as he looked you in your eyes, his gaze becoming more serious. “You’re beautiful…” Everything that came out of his mouth before this could have been taken as a joke, and maybe it was all meant to be taken as a joke, but the light tone that he had been carrying the whole afternoon was gone now. “You’re so beautiful, so smart, so perfect and… and every single day I wonder if it’s going to be the last chance I have to even try to get you back… but until that day comes, I’m going to keep trying because if I’m not with you, I don’t want to be with anyone.” He took a deep breath, his arms dropping to his sides as he took a step back. “But if you ever do find someone else… Can you give me a heads up, just so I can prepare myself for the heartbreak of seeing the love of my life with some other man… Please.” 

“You’re so dramatic…” You muttered, taking a step to close the space that he made between the two of you. “You don’t have to worry about that ever happening… There’s no one that can ever make me feel the way you did…” Hesitantly, you reached out to grab his hands, your thumbs brushing along his knuckles. “I’ll never want anyone but you.” Was it really smart to be admitting these things to him? Probably not. Who knew what would happen now that he knew, and you still weren’t ready for anything with him, at least not anything where it felt like your entire life was on the line. “You’re everything to me… and-“ 

His hands pulled away from yours, and for the split second where you couldn’t feel his touch, you panicked. Was he mad at you? No… His hands moved to cup your cheeks as he placed the softest, sweetest, most bittersweet kiss to your lips. It was everything, the sparks once again unleashed in the pits of your stomach just like the first kiss all over again. “You don’t have to explain… I know that you’re not ready… I’m just happy to hear that there’s no one else. And I’ll wait, I’ll keep waiting until you think that I’m deserving enough to be with you again.” His thumbs brushed your cheek before his hand slipped to the back of your head, his fingers tangling in your hair as his forehead rested against yours. “I love you though, only you, it’ll only ever be you…” 

“The birthday girl has arrived!” Changbin announced as him and the rest of the guys walked through the front door, your daughter waddling in infront of them all, her tiny feet carrying her fast over to where you and Hyunjin stood, her tiny hands grabbing at the air in front of her until she reached the both of you. “Are we… interrupting?” Changbin questioned, eyeing you and Hyunjin suspiciously, but you both shook your heads, and you quickly wiped the few tears that had fallen before giving the guys a smile. 

“Nope, you’re just in time!” You clapped your hands together, taking a deep breath to calm your nerves and looking around. Everything was perfect. “Thanks for watching her while we decorated. Was she good?” The guys all nodded, but they still looked between you and Hyunjin, the assumptions and suspicions that they had were obvious. You were just glad that at the end of the day, Hyunjin would be the one faced with the questions, not you. 

“Ah! Look at my big girl! Dada missed you bunches!” Hyunjin squealed as he scooped up his daughter, spinning around with her as he peppered kisses across her face, eliciting a chorus of giggles to pour out. “Do you like? Is it pretty?” He asked as he pointed at all the decorations, walking over to all the places she pointed to and letting her grab at the balloons and the streamers. 

Your heart swelled whenever you watched him with your daughter. He was a great father, he was a wonderful boyfriend when he wanted to be, and you wished that you could get rid of all the doubt and fears and hesitations that you had about him. He truly was perfect, he’s everything that you wanted. He said that he’d wait, but was it fair to keep him waiting? You didn’t even know how long it would take… Maybe someday… Someday soon… You’d be able to give him the answer he wanted, the answer that you want… But for now… For now you both could be happy like this, and for today, you’d let yourselves forget about everything and focus on your daughter and celebrate her 2nd birthday together, as parents, as a family, surrounded by all the people she loves and all the people that love her. 

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[arabellasleopardcoat]

To Conquer (Daemon Targaryen x Reader)

Summary: Incest is common amongst Targaryens, Daemon assures you. Unfortunately, Alicent got to you first.

Warnings: Mentions of sex. Cursing. Arranged marriage. Periods. Daddy issues. Religious guilt. One death aside from canon ones (Daemon murders a man)

A/N: In which I rewrite the scene of my first encounter with incest in a book. If you get it, you get it.

YOU NEVER dared call Alicent mother out loud. But in your mind, she was.

The woman who had birthed you had passed away the same day you had been born. Out of her womb you had been pulled, alongside your twin. He had not survived the day.

Queen Aemma Arryn was a mere name to you, a woman who existed in paintings and shadows, a ghost that lurked on the Red Keep. Your father never once spoke of her too you, too consumed by guilt and grief. In fact, he did his best to never speak to you at all.

You were an uncomfortable reminder of the crime he had committed. Robbing a woman of life so a man may live. It hadn’t even worked in the end. Your brother had faded from this world, nothing of him remaining.

Against all odds, you had. You had clung to life, the Maesters would later say. Fought tooth and nail to stay in this world. And somehow, it hadn’t been enough. Your father avoided you like the plague, but Alicent, guilty, scared, lonely Alicent, did not. She was all you had.

You stared at your reflection in the mirror. Despite your dramatic entrance to the world, and your eventful first few months of life, your life had turned out to be quite lackluster. There were no exciting adventures or claiming of dragons, much less a moniker attached to your name like there was to Rhaenyra or Daemon. You wondered why this, out of all things, had to be different.

The robes looked graceful enough on you, you supposed. Your father had called you a true Valyrian beauty, the very image of your mother. You knew it wasn’t true. King Viserys didn’t remember her. How could he, if he had done his best attempts to erase her? He had replaced her at once, and he never once spoke of her again. At least, not with you.

His presence in your life could be defined with one word: Absence. But he had thought it fair to reappear when he needs you to do something for him. The least he could have done would have been asking for your input about the wedding.

If you had been asked, you would have chosen a traditional wedding ceremony, with a Septon and a hand fasting. You would have worn a Targaryen cloak… To be exchanged for another Targaryen cloak. No. Perhaps it had been for the best, not to desecrate such a beautiful ritual with this nonsense.

Still, you couldn't shake the feeling of not being really married. You didn’t like it. And you liked the man who was waiting for you on the other side of the door much less.

“Are you done, niece?” The knock on the door forced you into action, once again. You reached into the basin, watching the cool water shift under your fingers. There was something about the cold that cleared your head, helped you think. You took a deep breath, and tried to focus.

Alicent had told you that you should obey him in all things. That you had to do your duty, just as she had done hers. But you had seen the fear in her eyes when you were getting ready for the ceremony, and how her hands had grasped at you desperately during the feast. It had taken Ser Otto’s intervention to make her let go of you.

Your bedtime stories had not prepared either of you for this. When you were a young girl, plagued by night terrors, she would sit at the foot of your bed and pretend to read your destiny.

“One day, you will fly to the moon wearing spiderwebs as wings.” She would squint at your hand, making a show of reading the lines there.

“Tell me more!” You would squeal, fears forgotten. Despite not being the motherly type, she would always indulge you. Perhaps, because she saw herself in you. Another little girl, her mother dead, her father defined by his lack of presence.

“It says here…” Alicent would tickle your palm. “That you will grow up into a beautiful, beautiful princess who will marry a handsome lord. He will love you very much.”

Out of all the lies you had been told, it was your favorite. Each night, you would ask to hear it again and again, and think, tomorrow will be better. Tomorrow I will be all grown, and the lady of a great castle. My father will love me then.

It had been a consolation you had clung on through all your childhood. You were a princess, worthy of being appreciated by your future husband. He would love you, you knew. You would build something together, something only yours. You would raise your children to be better than you, following Alicent’s example. You would be happy.

You had never realized how much she had clung to that thought too. Her frustrated dreams for herself had been turned into hope for your future. Alicent had spoken them into the night like an enchantment, as if she could bring them to life by repeating the words over and over. So you could have what she hadn’t had. Like all parents wished.

What both of you had imagined wasn't this. You wanted to scream from rage.

“Just a bit more.” You said, your resolve hardening. The faith of the Seven dictated that laying with a relative was a sin, the same for laying with a man who was not your husband. They barely recognized Valyrian wedding ceremonies.

Had you really married him? Your High Valyrian was sloppy. Your mother had not taught you much, and your lessons had often been interrupted because of Aegon. Out of all your siblings, Aemond had been the most proficient one. He had not been present at the ceremony, being judged too young to attend.

It had been your parents, Daemon, Aegon. An intimate ceremony, just as they liked. Could your father betray you so? Give you away as a whore to appease his brother?

You opened the table’s drawers. Daemon’s bathing room was unfamiliar to you, but he must have used something to shave and you would find it. You riffled through various oils and soaps before finding the blade you were seeking.

With your non-dominant hand, you bunched the robes up. Bracing yourself, you used your other hand to slit your upper thigh. At first, you didn’t draw blood, despite feeling the sting of the blade. Your grip was too shaky. But your determination didn’t waver. Your father had asked too much of you already, there was no power in the world that could force you to share your Uncle’s bed.

Your second attempt was much more successful. Despite having tensed the muscles of your thigh anticipating pain, it didn’t hurt as much as you expected. Blood rushed out. You grabbed a rag and rubbed it on it. You examined it, coldly. No matter how Valyrian, you bled red, like any Andal.

You schooled yourself into faux embarrassment before you spoke.

“Could you… Husband…. Could you fetch my mother?”

Despite your calculations, you make the mistake regardless. The noun slips from your tongue, unprompted. A slip. The first of many to come. The temperature dropped in the room, Daemon’s anger a near palpable thing.

“Your mother is dead, niece.” He stressed the last word in a way you didn’t like. Despite the door separating the two of you, you could tell his mood had shifted from bad to something much worse. You feared what he might do to you, were you to backtrack in your plan. “Whatever Alicent has been teaching you, you should know you are not hers.”

“Queen Alicent.” You corrected, annoyed. How did he dare criticize the way she had raised you, when there had been literally no one else around up to the task. How did he dare speak down to you, as if you were a simpleton? You fought to keep your tone steady and stomped on the anger bubbling up. “I have… lady troubles.”

“Lady troubles?” Daemon asked, sounding puzzled.

You pondered the merits of skirting around the issue. You weren’t in the mood to enter a euphemism’s discussion, and so, decided to be more graphic.

The bloody rag was held gently between your fingers when you opened the door. No more words were needed. Daemon cursed and went to get your mother.

HE DOESN’T dare ask at first. Daemon understands that women’s bodies work different from his own. He has never bedded one in her moonblood, and doesn’t intend to start with you.

Despite your beauty, Daemon felt oddly disappointed. He had hoped, with you being fully Rhaenyra’s sister and not half, like his younger nephews, that you would be similar to her.

You weren’t. You lacked her fierceness and the respect for your heritage. The only thing Valyrian about you was your looks. You didn’t even have a dragon of your own, and were so damn timid, he might confuse you with a mouse rather than a Princess.

Because of that same reason, he let you be during your moonblood. While Daemon didn’t object to some blood, he doubted you would be the same. Bedding unwilling maidens wasn’t his thing. He preferred his girls willing, be it from the promise of coin or delirious from their own lust.

Somehow, he was getting the feeling you weren’t going to be the second type anytime soon. Every time he attempted to kiss you, you squirmed away, as if he were initiating something sinful and not simply trying to kiss his wife.

“Seven Hells, would it kill you to remain still?” He asked as you nervously avoided his grip on your waist. “I am not trying to initiate anything. I know you are still on your courses. Stand still. I command it.”

“I… I…” You had looked at him, all hesitant eyes. Alicent had done scarcely any things right when raising you, but at least she had instilled you obedience. But blood couldn’t be denied, and every so often your Valyrian nature reared its head. Mostly, playing against Daemon rather than in his favor. Little dragon that you were, you weren’t keen on following orders.

Ah, but bring you a Septa. Then you were jumping out of your seat to offer the damn woman your chair and observing her earnestly for non-verbal cues, tending to her every need like a commoner. Ridiculous.

“The Mother obeys the Father, from what I understand.” Daemon kept his tone matter of fact. He wasn’t certain that the Seven Pointed Star said that, but it sounded right, and it suited him, so he spoke the words with as much conviction as he could muster. In truth, Daemon had never opened the damn book in his life. A waste of time. The Septons he knew were a bunch of cunts and their followers weren’t any better.

“Maidens are supposed to be demure.” You protested. “Not indulge on indecent displays.”

“You are not meant to be a maiden any longer.” He grabbed you by the waist regardless, coaxing you to stroll next to him. “And wives obey their husbands.”

While you remained unconvinced, you allowed him to lead you around the Red Keep’s gardens. He kept a constant stream of chatter, using all his best lines, but you answered in monosyllables. Not only did Daemon wish to cultivate a better relationship with you, but he also wanted to flaunt his new bride. It was only fair that the other cunts here got a look at Targaryen superiority. Kept them from being too uppity.

Like everything else in this marriage, though, that too proved elusive. Soon, whispers began to circulate about his virility. One of your maids had a loose tongue, it seemed. The whole castle was snickering about it not even a week later. You, like usual, were oblivious.

In a fit of anger Daemon would later not be proud of, he got all the little chits whipped. But their attitudes about your moonblood made him begin to suspect something was amiss. A fortnight of bleeding seemed… Strange. While he was never particularly interested in women’s bodies beyond fucking them, something had to be wrong. An inquiry with the Maester proved him right. Apparently, over a week was unusual, a fortnight near impossible.

That night, he sat on the foot of your shared bed, watching you fret around the room. Daemon had asked for shared chambers, thinking it would bring the two of you closer. With his constant exiles and marriages, and the fact that Alicent had coddled you during your whole existence, you were a stranger with a familiar face. He had hoped to entice you by appealing to your curiosity about marital duties. Safe to say, it didn’t work.

You had put up barriers. Both metaphorical and physical ones. Right now, you were at it again. Laying down a towel on your side of the bed and a pillow in the middle of it. As he watched you, he found himself struck by the beauty of your hands. They were firm and precise in their movements, fixing down the towel and then neatly delimiting your side of the bed with the pillow.

You were wearing the most hideous nightshirt know to man, more adequate for a Septa than a newlywed. Slightly bent over, fluffing up your pillows, Daemon noticed that it was as white as fresh snow. Now that he thought of it, all your shifts were. And yet, none of them had ever been stained. Nor had the towel you placed on the bed and loudly proclaimed it was to avoid leakages. An effort to make yourself more unappealing, perhaps?

Somehow, the realization didn’t anger him. Instead, it made him more curious. Was this your way of rebelling? Were you scared? What went on behind your eyes, inside that skull of yours?

“Wife.” Daemon finally spoke, when you were starting to kneel for your nightly prayers. You paused, kneeling gracefully. You looked up at him, all curious eyes and nervous smile. “Have your courses always been this long?”

This time, he watches your reaction closely. During these past days, Daemon has not pressured you about it. But now, he waits on bated breath.

Your eyes widen. The hands you have clasped in prayer get even tighter pressed together.

��Oh, you shouldn’t… These are womanly concerns.” You are a terrible liar. He would laugh, were it not such a cruel thing to do when in the face of a little fool.

“I insist.” Daemon arches an eyebrow at you. You squirm on your knees like there are ants on your shift. You are visibly distraught. Does it pain you, pious girl that you are, to be committing a sin?

“Yes, they are.”

Another lie. He had asked some of the fools in Viserys’ employment. Yours didn’t last more than a week. But Daemon finds all the twitching you are doing entertaining, and so, decides to give you more rope to hang yourself.

“And yet, your father promised that you were fertile.” He drawls, cruel amusement almost leaking into his tone. He can’t help the way his lips twitch. This is too entertaining. It’s like toying with a mouse before eating it.

“I… I am.” You weakly defend yourself. Your face is looking more distressed by the second. And is that..? Oh, wonderful, you are starting to sweat a little.

“No, you are not. You are either lying about that, or about your moonblood.”

“I am not!” You protest, finally getting up from your kneeling position. A shame. You looked positively delicious in your predicament.

“Yes, you are! But I am giving you a chance to tell me the truth. Which one are you lying about?”

“I am not.” You look about to flee the room, so Daemon gets up and places himself on your path. You flinch a bit, but stubbornly refuse to admit the truth. His amusement at your attitude is starting to turn sour. Not only it is unflattering that you are making up excuses to avoid bedding him, but they are so stupid half the court is laughing at him behind his back about it. And you, absolute fool, can’t admit it.

“Wrong answer, niece.” He steps closer, trying to intimidate you. “I know the truth.”

“You do?” You startle. You take a step back, nearly tripping on the hem of that ugly nightgown. Daemon reaches to steady you, his grip on your arms punishingly. You twitch, as if sensing that you are caught in the maws of a hungry beast that could pounce at any moment.

“You are not on your moonblood. You can't be every single day of the moon!” He shakes you a little, making you yelp. But then, the most astounding thing happens. Because instead of going very still, as the frightened bird that you are, you shove him hard.

“What would you know!” You scream at him, pointing one finger at his face. Daemon wishes to say he is unbothered by your hysterics, but instead, he grabs your accusing hand and tugs it. The delicate bones shift inside his hand, threatening to snap, and you're left with no choice but go towards him or break your finger.

Wisely, you choose the second. You are breathing hard, and looking up at him in righteous indignation.

“Brute!”

“I asked your maids.” Daemon smirks at you, something ugly appearing on his face. In truth, whatever you see spooks you because you deflate a little. “So? Shall you tell me the truth? Or must I find it myself?”

He makes it as if to lift your shift. You bat his hand away, hard. Interesting enough, you harden then.

“What else is there to know? Beyond that I am not on my moonblood?”

“We can start with why you lied. Or why you don’t wish to lay with me.” Daemon suggests, gripping you tightly so you cannot escape. He brings his face closer to yours.

Your eyes are wide. Your face is frozen into a terrified expression, like you are realizing all your lies are catching up to you.

“I didn’t want you to force me.” You say, voice barely a whisper. Who do you think he is? Some sort of monster? Your depraved half brother, perhaps? Daemon had already heard the exploits that one was up to. Jerking off in a window, of all things.

“Force you! If I wanted to force you, I could already have.” Daemon rolls his eyes. You were not trained in any sort of combat, and you were the kind who had her head in the clouds more often than not. You were not a match for him. If Daemon wanted to force you, he just had to pin you down or pull out Dark Sister.

You stay quiet, perhaps coming to the same realization. You have gone to bed next to him for nearly two weeks, only in thin shifts. Every day, you have woken up untouched. Doubt starts to cloud up your face, as if you are noticing how vulnerable you truly have been and how well Daemon has behaved.

As if he were going to be deterred by a little blood. He was a true Targaryen. It was in his house’s words. Plenty of maidens bled when being split open on his cock. Your moonblood would not be very different.

Daemon decides to appeal to your more… Hightower side. Perhaps that would get you to yield to him. He uses his more Otto-like tone, trying to sound as cunty as possible.

“It’s your duty.”

You shake your head, frantically.

“We can’t. It's not right. You are my uncle.”

Your words are spoken with such conviction, he has to fight the urge to scream. That was your problem? You? A daughter of the house of the dragon, complaining about incest?

“It is not unprecedented. Our whole line begins because Aegon the conqueror had his sister wives. And then, Maegor married his niece, too.” Daemon’s words are sharp. He lets go of you and starts to pace the room. Good Gods, what had Alicent done to you? Had she twisted your mind so, you now thought marrying him was wrong because you were related?

“And their marriage was cursed. No child was born out of their union.” You reply, with an ugly smile. He wants to slap it out of your little face. Smug little girl, thinking she knows everything about the world.

“Jaehaerys married his sister, the Good Queen Alyssane. They had plenty of children.” He insists, trying to get you to notice the flaws in your argument. Everyone knew that the only way to preserve the Valyrian bloodline was by marrying other Valyrians. Otherwise, the magic in their blood would dilute, and they would no longer be able to claim dragons. It was common sense.

“All of them turned out very… queer.”

“My parents..!” But you interrupt him before he can finish.

“Exceptionally queer, too.”

Daemon feels his face heating up. No one before has managed to infuriate him so. He wants to shake some sense into you. His hands itch for something to punish you with. Impudent little thing, daring to suggest his parents had been queer!

Queer! The queer one here was you! A Targaryen who opposed incest!

“Listen here, you awful little…”

“Stop that. Stop insulting me, by the Seven. You won’t change my mind.” You raise one of your hands, in the universal halt sign. “I will never share your bed.”

At that, Daemon thinks actual steam must be coming out of his ears. Never. As if. You would change your mind, he knows it. No one can resist him for long. He is experienced, charming, and handsome. A prince and a true dragon. What more could anyone want?

He would make you regret your words. He would show you. Under all your repressed, Hightower ways, you were a dragon. Targaryen blood ran thick. Daemon would have you eating out of the palm of his hand before you could realize. Before, he hadn’t really been trying. But now? He was ready for war.

“Come here.” He orders. You stare at him, and do not move. “You will disobey me in this, too?”

You step closer, eyes narrowed in suspicion.

“I wish to make a deal.” Daemon says. You cross your arms over your chest. “You don’t have to bed me if you don’t want to. But you will have to give me something in exchange.”

“What?” You tap your foot against the floor, impatiently. Yet your face, as always, betrays you. His offer has made you lower your guard, interested in what he has to say. Probably because you are seeing a way out of this whole issue.

“I want you to let me be as affectionate as I wish with you.”

“Fine.” You snarl at him, trying to look fierce. But you are too new to this game of pretending for Daemon to not see through your mask. You are confused.

He steps closer. He gathers you into his arms, and hugs you.

At first, you tense. Your arms remain glued to your sides, body stiff in his arms. Daemon enjoys the feel of it regardless. You smell like innocence, sweet and young. Your body is soft and feminine, nothing like the hard muscles of his first wife. He allows himself to relax into you.

Eventually, your body sags a bit. You relax into the hug.

“I wish… I wish….” You start speaking, face hidden in his shoulder. Daemon doesn’t let go. His gut tells him that whatever you are going to say, it is important. “I wish I wasn’t ashamed. And that… In our wedding ceremony, I would have liked to know what was being said.”

Daemon’s heart aches. His poor little Hightower, denied of her birthright. And then, a giant grin spreads on his face. Here it was. The opportunity he needed.

“I will teach you.” Daemon whispers, against your hair. He kisses it. It’s a lovely thing, an icy blonde that doesn’t fit your warm personality. Now that you are not fighting him, he is starting to notice you are very sweet natured. “I promise.”

“You will?” You look up at him, wary. “And what will the price be?”

Daemon chuckles.

“No price.” He caresses the bridge of your nose, tracing your features. You seem bashful at the attention, and it is so adorable, he can’t help but kiss you.

You startle. All coltish, you nearly elbow him in your haste to move away.

“What are you doing? We said no bedding!”

“I know.” Daemon smiles at you, indulgently. Now is the time to tread carefully, less you spook, and he ends up losing all his progress. “I just want to kiss my wife. Affection, for the sake of it. Kissing doesn’t need to lead to anything.”

You nod. You don’t seem convinced. But he soon discovers your hesitance comes from something else.

“I have never kissed anyone.” You whisper, almost ashamed.

“Then let me teach you that too.” And he is leaning in, and capturing your mouth with his.

“I GOT you something.” Daemon suddenly says, one morning. You lift your gaze from your book, an historic account about the doom of old Valyria, and watch him with curious eyes.

Your husband is carrying a bundle of cloth on his arms. He is back from his usual shenanigans in the city. Betting and drinking, but no longer any whoring, he assures you. The Lord of Flea Bottom is no more, or so he says.

It is quite early. You have just broke your fast with your mother, after the two of you did your morning prayers together. It is a ritual you find great comfort in, despite Daemon doing his best to discourage you. He doesn’t like that you worship the Faith of the Seven.

He has grown slightly more tolerant of Alicent as time goes by. You cannot say the same for her. Despite the fact that Daemon treats you well, she still can’t seem to get over the fact that he is Daemon Targaryen, the same man who had terrorized her father, courted her best friend and possibly murdered his last wife.

The bundle of clothes moves in Daemon’s arms. You place your book down, and creep closer, wondering about its contents. It’s then that you hear it. A soft, quiet mewl.

A grin spreads across your face. You cross the distance between the two of you, and watch as a small paw reaches out from the cloth, flexing its tiny claws. It is covered in white fur, the cushions on the bottom of it a soft pink.

“A kitten!” You say, delighted. You take it from Daemon and cradle it against you. The kitten can’t be older than a few weeks. His eyes are already open, a cloudy gray that takes your breath away. It’s love at first sight. “Oh, husband, thank you!”

“I saw it when I was coming back this morning. Thought you would like the damn thing.” Daemon says, gruffly. He crosses his arms over his chest.

“I will name him… Quicksilver!” You say, cheerily. It makes his lips twitch a bit, unable to hide his amusement. This week, Daemon has been helping you practice your High Valyrian by reading a more recent text, accounting the times of King Aerys.

The language practice has brought the two of you closer. You are no longer as resentful or scared of him as you once were. You spend nearly all your evenings with him, pouring over gigantic tomes written in the language of your ancestors. Daemon patiently corrects your pronunciation, teaching you the right way of rolling the vocals, and how to accentuate your consonants.

You would have never thought you would enjoy learning so much. He is a very compelling teacher, clearly passionate about the subject yet stern enough to make you do all your assignments before their due date. Daemon is patient and encouraging, willing to explain things to you over and over again until you understand them fully.

The kitten yawns, showing a row of tiny white teeth and a pink tongue. You coo.

“Tiny but fierce.” Daemon smirks. “The Seven preserve us all.”

“How pious.” You tease, and Daemon steps closer. He grabs your waist and pulls you in for a kiss, Quicksilver still in your arms.

Despite having kissed him many times before now, you feel as weak to his advances as you had felt the first time he had kissed you. Daemon kisses like he is conquering, nipping at your lower lip until you open for him, and taking complete ownership of your mouth. His hands grasp at your nape, holding you against him. There is no escape from his kisses, and it fills you with a thrill you had never expected to feel before. Daemon wants you. He desires you, as a man desires a woman. There is no headier feeling than that.

At first, you had thought he was lonely. Why else would he ask for affection, when he was able to ask for anything else from you? That night, when he had found out you had been lying to him, Daemon could have asked for anything, done anything to you. Not a man in the realm would have judged him for it.

His behavior after that only seemed to confirm it. When the two of you were in public, his hands would linger on you, as if fearing you would leave his side. When someone told a funny joke, his eyes would seek yours before laughing, making sure you were still there.

It was an urge you understood too well. Abandonment was something you had learned to fear as well. Your mother had left you unwillingly. Your father and sister had both been eager to wash their hands from you. You guessed Daemon’s life had been a bit like that, too. From what you had heard, his mother had passed when he was a child. Your father had grown tired of him. And your sister… Well. That had been his fault.

When you grew up like that, you clung to every kindness, to every slice of warmth you could get. It was no wonder Daemon clung to you as hard as he did. It was difficult to live like that, not knowing what kindness feels like, grasping desperately to any scraps of it until you can almost piece together what the real thing feels like.

Despite having all reasons not to, Daemon’s attention never turned suffocating. Perhaps, you too, were starved for affection. You had gone your whole life with no positive male attention, being overshadowed by your sister and forced into almost a Septa-like life by your mother. His touches were never beyond the proper attention a man would show his wife in public. It felt almost… fatherly.

As a child, your father had never sat with you, or listened to anything you said. Daemon, instead, seemed to pay close attention to everything you did or told him. He sat for hours with you, pouring over myths and historical accounts, correcting your pronunciation of High Valyrian, teaching you the meaning behind old rituals.

It was as if a door had been opened for you. One you could use to glimpse inside his mind, and your father’s and even Rhaenyra’s. You understood now much more about how they behaved, and why they did. You didn’t necessarily agree, but you understood.

Some confusing feelings had begun to arise with all this new information stuffed into your head. You liked Daemon’s attention. He was charming, and it made you feel good about yourself, being able to keep someone as worldly and cultured as him interested in you. It made you wish, sometimes, to have been his daughter instead of King Viserys’. But at the same time, the way you felt and the things you did with him weren’t the kind of things you imagined daughters feeling for their parents.

When Daemon kissed you, as he did now, you felt your stomach swoop. His skilled mouth made your skin tingle, and all your hairs stand up on edge. It made you feel ashamed of yourself. You weren’t supposed to feel such things for your uncle. No matter how Valyrian, it was just not right.

What made you feel even more ashamed was the fact that sometimes, when he kissed you for too long, the place between your legs would get slick with arousal. You wanted him too, you realized, with the utmost horror. You wanted him like a woman desires a man. A wife desires her husband.

It is then the game starts. Daemon kisses you, and you kiss back, eagerly exploring his mouth and learning how to play his game. You make out with him for what feels like hours, until you feel drunk from his kisses and become as pliant and soft as clay being molded in his hands. It is then that you let him touch you a bit more, push the boundaries your previous truce has set. His hands grasp at your hips, his lips mouth at your neck. And when the edge of your shift starts to ride up, or his lips trail too close to the neckline of it, you jolt out of your stupor.

Shame licks at your spine, grabs tightly at the back of your head. Makes you stiffen under him, body set into a hard line. How can you be so wanton? Why do you behave in such whorish ways? You struggle then, overcome by the embarrassment you feel at your own behavior.

Daemon tries to subdue you. Sometimes, you fold, other times you spend the night tossing and turning on the bed, trying to get the upper hand. Sometimes, he wins, and pins you down on the mattress. But instead of forcing you, he kisses you again and the game begins anew.

You spend the nights like this. Kissing and struggling with anxious violence, until it has begun to replace the act of love. You can tell Daemon enjoys your struggles, the feel of your buttocks against his clothed crotch. You can feel the weight of him against your hip, burning hot and hard.

Eventually, he tires and heads out. You don’t know if he pleasures himself then, or if he just ignores his arousal until it goes away. You prefer the second when it comes to yourself. For hours, you stare at the ceiling, willing the heat in your blood to go away. Sleeps evades you, yet when it does not, it feels even more torturous. You dream of him, of the act, conjuring lewd positions and thoughts, until morning comes, and you feel like you have not slept at all.

This precarious balance could never last. You are not good at the court’s games, having been a wallflower most of your life. You are a stranger to waging tongues, and malicious comments, but Daemon is not. He is doomed to always be the center of attention, this husband of yours.

Someone notices that almost three moons after marriage, you are still a maiden And someone remembers Daemon’s lack of children with his first wife. One plus one makes two.

He comes to find you in the Royal Sept, as you are lighting candles with your mother. He grabs you briskly by the arm and drags you away, the match still alight between your fingers.

“Have you heard?” Daemon asks, breathless. It is clear that he has rushed to you. “What they are saying about me?”

You shake your head.

“How would I?” You are, after all, as isolated as you were before the wedding. Your only companions are Quicksilver, Daemon, your mother, and your siblings. And Aegon is at that terrible age, where he behaves like a little deviant. The others are too young to provide true companionship, Helaena stuck on her imaginary worlds and Aemond not quite a boy, not yet a man.

“They say I am impotent. That your womb has not quickened because I have not taken you. Because I am unable to.” The crude words Daemon speaks make your eyes widen. You have grown protected from the nastier side of court life, forgotten as you were. You cannot believe how someone would dare comment on a married couple’s bedroom activities, which are meant to be one of the more sacred things to happen between man and wife according to the Seven. Much less, how someone would dare to utter such poisonous slander.

“We know it’s not the truth.” You place your hand on his arm, trying to soothe his wounded pride. Daemon is, above all, impulsive. You fear he is about to do something rash, even if you do not imagine yet what.

Isn’t it enough that the two of you know the courtiers are in the wrong? You have felt the press of his member, hard against your hip, in the nights the two of you struggle. You have felt his hips rutting against yours, as his kisses mapped unknown constellations on your shoulders. What does it matter if Daemon hasn’t taken you? How can these people dare interfere, or even mention what the two of you do or do not do?

Shame, once again, grips you in its clutches. You feel your face warm at the thought of how these strangers must view you. Queer. Twisted. You wonder if they blame his inability to perform on your blood ties. If they think the Seven are cursing your marriage, just as they had with the ones of King Maegor.

“It isn’t.” Daemon says, coldly. He walks away, a tense line on his shoulders, and you walk back inside the Sept.

Alicent is still lighting candles. You sense that there are not enough of them to make a difference for what is about to happen.

That night, a disgruntled looking Harwin Strong wakes you up. He tells you how he is there to supervise your packing. You are leaving the city, he explains, to your bewilderment. Effective immediately.

As you place your dresses inside some linens, and ready Quicksilver, you manage to coax the story out of him.

Daemon had been at his usual haunt in Flea Bottom, betting on some cockfights. You could picture the scene clearly. Daemon, lazily counting his winnings with that infuriating smug look he got when he was proud of himself. An angry patron, getting up and on his face after losing to him.

“Maybe that cock will work for your wife!”

The whole establishment erupting into laughter. Daemon, cold smile on his lips.

“Go to your manse, and arm yourself. Because I am going to kill you tonight.”

After that, there was little he could say in his own defense to King Viserys. It had been a premeditated act, in front of multiple witnesses. No way of denying it, or trying to shift the blame.

You stood outside the city gates, observing Caraxes. He looked as done with Daemon’s antics as you felt. In front of you, stood the world.

Daemon strode by, being dragged by Ser Harwin. He was chained, but managed to look as carefree as any free man.

“You know the rules.” Ser Harwin said, unchaining him, before turning towards you. There was a bit of sorrow in his brown eyes, perhaps feeling pity for you. “Farewell, Princess.”

“Where to, Lady Wife?” Daemon asked, cheekily. There was no hint of remorse on his face. It seemed exile reinvigorated him like nothing else.

Your lips pursed into a thin line. You didn’t want to leave. It was scary, the thought of being away from home. The times you had been outside the Red Keep could be counted with the fingers of your hands alone. And what were you to do, friendless in the big world that opened in front of you?

You wanted to punish him. If he was giving you a choice, you were going to give him a lesson.

“To the North. Perhaps that hot blood of yours will fare better there.”

“ARE YOU sure?” You ask him, all pleading eyes. Daemon nods, already sitting inside the hot spring. You are strangely fearful of the warm water, perhaps, having already grown used to the cold of the North.

“If this scalds me alive, I will come back to haunt you.” You warn, turning to face away before beginning to undress. Daemon can’t help but let his eyes linger on your body, despite knowing how indignant it would get you were you to notice. He has promised to avert his eyes, after all.

Naive as you are, you never check to see that he actually does.

He watches as you remove your furs, and unlace your dress. It has taken him quite some effort to get you to feel comfortable enough to be naked in his presence. There might come a day when you are desensitized to nakedness, but Daemon guesses you are still far away from it. He has to keep trying.

You are worth the effort, though. His precious niece, sweet as the Maiden herself and twice as pretty.

“Dragons don’t burn.” He answers, absentmindedly. You are only wearing your chemise and your hoses, and as you lean down to remove those, he gets a perfect view of your cute rear.

“Perhaps. But I am no dragon.” You pull the chemise over your head, unaware of the fact that you are being watched. Daemon drinks in the sight of your naked legs, strong yet delicate, leading up to beautiful hips and a soft back. As you pull your hair up, he notices how the muscles of your arms and back move in a graceful combination that can’t be anything more but a natural gift. He spends a few seconds mesmerized by you, before you start to turn around and Daemon remembers he is supposed to be averting his eyes.

He fixes them politely on the other side of the hot spring, careful to not let you catch him looking out of the corner of his eyes. You are becoming sloppy in your old age, he scolds himself. Daemon can't help it. Lately, he feels more like the boy he once was than the man he is. His attempts at seduction are fumbled, he gets carried away by his passion, a single one of your smiles can render him tongue twisted.

Everything that you do is charming. The slight sway of your hips as you walk, the way your eyes light up when you laugh, but most of all, your personality. Freed from the cage of Alicent’s judgmental stares, you seem to be growing into yourself. Life on the road seems to suit you, despite your fearful nature. Surrounded by strangers, you no longer feel the weight of being judged for imaginary sins.

“You are. Just one with a more…. Fragile constitution.” How he wishes to be able to turn back time, sometimes. Gather the girl you once were into his arms and soothe all the old hurts. Raise you the right way, give you all the attention you had desperately needed and watch you bloom into an impressive woman. You were already a creature of impossible beauty. How much better could you have been, if they hadn’t stunted your growth?

You were too much of a Hightower, Daemon himself had thought once. But Alicent had thought you not Hightower enough, and she had tried to mold you into one, keeping you well away from what she thought of as queer customs.

Who had told you weren't a dragon? And how had they made that awful lesson stick, until you felt adrift, and belonged nowhere?

The sudden sound of water shifting, and you hissing makes him jolt out of his contemplation. Daemon turns his head the barest bit, managing to catch sight of your hips sinking into the water, and the shape of one of your breasts. There is one puffy nipple crowning it, hard and proud and begging to be bitten. He fights the urge to pounce on you, and instead remains sitting on his side of the natural pool and tries to relax into the warm water. Patience is of the essence in seduction, after all. You need to come to him convinced it is your idea.

“Ready.” You say, sounding a bit too close. He turns and there you are, right in front of him. You sit on the shallower end, water covering you to nearly your collarbones. Daemon playfully reaches out with his foot and touches your leg, making you jump. He laughs.

“It isn’t so bad, is it?” Daemon’s voice still carries a bit of mirth. He can’t help it, you have such cute reactions.

“No. Almost like a warm bath.” You fan your face with your hands. Seeing you lose your composure a little, Daemon feels a bit guilty about pressuring you to enter the pool. It’s true you are not as used to extreme heat as he is. He rushes to your side, uncaring of his own nakedness.

“Too hot?” He asks you, wiping away a stray drop of sweat before it can get into your eyes. You mumble something incoherent, so he presses a hand to your forehead. He doesn’t want you to swoon from heat exhaustion, out of all things. But your temperature is normal. It is then he realizes your eyes are fixated on his chest.

Ah. Poor thing. Daemon can feel his lips stretching into a proud smile. Finally, succumbing to your lust. He should press his advantage, but he finds himself hesitating to do so. Despite how appealing he finds you, he understands that you are different. A being that walks the world of the divine and the mundane that skirts the two but was not made for the more carnal things.

Instead, he commits the sight to memory, for when he decides to touch himself. Perhaps tonight, even. It is something he has been doing more and more often. Daemon has found intercourse with whores is nowhere near as fun as laying on the bed, with you by his side, and tugging at his cock until completion.

He is never quiet about what he is doing. Soft grunts and moans fill your chambers each time he does. You pretend to be asleep, but Daemon can tell you are listening. The next day, you turn fevered with lust. It is you who kisses him, who rakes her claws along his back.

There is no consummation yet. But it is becoming clearer than once fully freed from the judgment of your family, there will be.

You sway slightly. Daemon opens his arms, and lets you curl into him. He guides the two of you into a sitting position, placing you firmly on his lap. Your hair falls into a mess of curls thanks to the humidity, up do barely resisting. He fixes it for you, tightening the ribbon keeping it up. Then, he starts massaging your neck and shoulders.

The pleasure of your bare skin under his hands is undescribable. It’s a luxury he has worked hard to get, and for that, tastes even sweeter. Your sweet little face is scrunched up, in a rare show of pain and pleasure. Daemon wonders if it is the face you would make when he spears you open on his cock.

An annoying hardness begins to make itself known in his groin. He feels like a mere boy, getting excited about the smallest touch. You are driving him mad. And Daemon is enjoying every second of it.

Almost as if listening to his inner monologue, you shift on his lap. Something seems to be bothering you. You can’t get comfortable, and you squirm on his lap more than a seasoned whore. Daemon can pinpoint the exact moment you notice what you are squirming on. Your eyes go wide and you freeze. An embarrassed look takes over your face.

He fights the urge to laugh, wrapping his arms more firmly around you and encouraging to rest against his chest. Daemon could spend years like this. Denial is a fun game. Months have passed, and he has yet to grow tired of it, of taking away your innocence little by little.

You lean in. You give him a playful little smile, and you bite, hard. The pain from your teeth blooms on his shoulder, making his cock throb.

“Impudent little thing.” He chastises, softly. “I should spank the defiance out of you.”

You laugh. You have come to realize that he is not as much of a brute as everyone painted him to be, and that he is too soft to make good on his threat. Ever since your argument, Daemon has never hurt you. He likes you too much for it. He wouldn’t force you to bed him, nor would he willingly do anything to upset you. Not even if you announced you didn’t want him touching you ever again.

Was this what love felt like, he wondered? Being happy with just sharing the same air you did, watching you play with your cat, being honored that he was trusted enough to feed the damn thing?

It probably was. But hell, if he was going to let it stop this corruption of your innocence. No. Instead, Daemon grabbed you by the shoulders and bit down on the hollow of your throat, playfully. You made a small sound, like a caught animal. He could tell you were getting ready to succumb to pleasure once more. His hedonist little wife, always ready to be put in a kiss drunk state. You turned liquid in his arms when it happened, going lax over him.

Daemon could tease you some more. Or… He leans in, breathing in your scent, before blowing a giant raspberry by the side of your neck. You shriek in laughter, squirming on his lap. Water is sent flying everywhere. He peppers your face and neck in kisses as you do, laughing st your squeals and squirming.

“Daemon.” You say, after a while, when the both of you have calmed down. Your head rests on his shoulder, expression hidden.

“Little niece.” He whispers, and you tremble at the endearment.

“I have decided something.” You whisper back. Somehow, your voice feels loud in the cave of the hot spring, nothing but the soft murmur of water being heard.

“You have?” Daemon asks, heart thumping in his chest as if he has just taken to the skies in Caraxes. He pulls you out of hiding, lifting your head towards him.

“I want to marry you right.” You say, shyly. You look deeply embarrassed. “Under my faith. So we can…” You trail off, averting your eyes.

“So we can..?” Daemon asks, feeling a triumphant grin spread over his face.

“Have a child.”

And oh, it is the most wonderful thing he has even heard. He will buy you a cloak, and a couple of ribbons for the hand fasting. He will find the two of you a home. Daemon says all this, as he presses his forehead against yours. Not even his conquest of the Stepstones felt as sweet.

[mrsparrasblog]

You're losing me pt 4.

prev part. part 1 next part

TW: Drug use, mentioned rape, mention of violence, medic is the worst human on earth

Simon sat down next to Johnny on his bed, holding the Scotsman's hand while giving him a reassuring nod. "We have the whole day time."

"It's complicated."

"I will understand."

"Promise to believe me."

"Promise." Simon didn't know exactly what had happened or how Johnny got this way. He always admired Johnny for his confidence and the way he made everything seem so easy. Seeing his boyfriend like this broke his heart. He knew Johnny would never cheat on you; he loved you, everyone loved you. He remembered that one day Johnny got piss drunk on a mission and a bird approached him. He showed her pictures of you for 10 minutes, telling everyone he had the most beautiful lass on earth. This man wouldn’t cheat, especially not with her, definitely not his type.

Simon thought she had just gone into Johnny's bed at night, removing her clothes and gaslighting him that he cheated. But when Johnny told him everything about the drugs, about the rape, about the way she tried to blackmail him, he felt like he needed to throw up. He was too young to protect his mother from this. He couldn’t do anything when it happened to him. He didn’t know you when it happened to you. But this time, he was going to kill the rapist. "You’re a good man. Don’t let her manipulate you into something you aren’t."

"I feel like shit."

"This won’t go away easy, love."

"I don’t know what to do." And he really didn’t know. Everything seemed and felt so lost. Simon believed him, right? But what if she tells everyone he raped her? It will be over with his military career. After she pulled that stunt you wouldn’t believe him anymore. The look in your eyes almost broke him completely. This was wrong. It went too easy for her like she had done this many times before or had been planning this for years. It was too easy.

"Let me fix it for you, Johnny." He was determined to do this. Through his head already went 1000 ideas on how to kill her. But every way was too easy, too nice for her. Rip her head off. Sell her off to the black market so she will experience first-hand the crimes she did to others. Burn her alive. Many possibilities.

"Don’t kill her, Lieutenant."

"You know she will do it again. Not only to you but to others."

"Do you think she already did this?" Johnny fiddled with his wrist. The bracelet that you bought him to help with his ADHD was gone. It always calmed him. You told him how you searched through whole Etsy to find some gems that should calm him down. He didn’t believe this shit, but it indeed calmed him down since it reminded him of you. And right now, you were the only thing he needed. He needed you to tell him that he isn’t dirty, that he isn’t at fault, that he is a good man.

"Would explain why she was transferred so fast to us from her old unit."

"Fuck." This needed to stop. He couldn’t let that happen to more innocent people.

"Let’s talk to Price, then I’ll take care of her, and after that, we get our girl back." Simon missed you just as much as Johnny did. For a split second, he was afraid that you were mad and disappointed that he didn’t check on you. But that wasn’t the selfless girl he fell in love with. He knew you would understand if you only knew. He could already imagine how you would apologize even though you didn’t do anything wrong. You were different than the medic scum.

"Do you think she’ll take us back?"

"Yes, promise." He placed a small kiss on the shaved part of Johnny's mohawk, a small gesture that the Scot always loved. Simon always knew how to calm him down. With that, they left in the direction of Price's office.

-------------------------------

He woke up with an immense headache and the urge to throw up. John really drank too much the last few days, but this will end now. He will concentrate on you and the job again. You forgave him for lying, at least that was the last thing he remembered before you brought him to his bed. On his bedside table stood a glass of water and one of your self-made brownies with a small note. "Take care of yourself, bear." You always jokingly called him a bear because that was what he was to you. John was the big cuddly bear who always kept you safe.

He knew by the amount of alcohol he drank yesterday, he should probably head to the medical department for some meds. He would never tell anyone, though. He was a hypocrite sometimes, always letting the other hungover soldiers run miles to torture them for being so irresponsible to drink before training. But he could afford the luxury of taking meds against his hangover.

So John went to the medical. He was annoyed when he only saw her there.

"Hello, Captain." She smiled brightly, which made him almost throw up on the spot. There was always a difference between the real, sweet-like-a-cake, like his girl, and the artificial acting sweetness she faked. It was disgusting. "Is there another medic or nurse in here today?"

"No, sorry, Captain."

"I'll go then."

"Come on, Captain, be professional. What do you need?"

"Just something against my hangover." He can be professional and still respect you, right? You won’t be mad he talked to her.

"That was easy. I'll bring you something."

She came back, still with that creepy artificial sweet smile. In her hand was a glass of water with, judging by the displaced white particles, meds. "Just some pain meds against headache and dehydration. Drink up, Captain, and then stay here for 20 minutes for the next med."

John drank it up. After a few minutes of sitting in the chair, he felt his limbs tingle weirdly. This must be one of those side effects of the meds.

"How are you feeling, baby?" Weird name.

"Don’t call me that." He tried to leave, but it felt like his body didn’t do the things he wanted anymore like he was paralyzed.

"I wouldn’t do that, John."

"What was in there?" This can’t be fucking true. This is one of those weird drunk dreams.

"Oh, baby, just some mild paralyzer. Don’t worry, it only lasts three hours, and you can still talk. That’s great, isn’t it? Oh, and Viagra."

Fuck, this is true. This is how she got Johnny. She is fucking sick. "What do you want?"

"You know, I really tried to be nice, but you all only talk about her all the time, so I took matters into my own hands." She said as she slowly sat down on his lap. John tried hard to do anything, but he wasn’t able to move.

"Look, you’re a pretty girl. You don’t need us. There is someone who loves you." He tried to be nice, and use his words to come out of this situation, but she already removed his pants. He knew it was over there until he heard the sudden voices of Johnny and Simon. He knew she could never outsmart them, and she knew it too.

"Fuck, fuck," she screamed, gathering the remaining meds and her things. She ran out of the room the second she saw the door open.

"Fucking hell, Captain, you're okay?"

"That fucking cunt drugged me. Get a fucking nurse here." This all didn’t go like Simon's plan. It felt like she was always a step ahead of them.

----------------------------------------

Kyle didn't notice any of the drama going on in medical as he used his time in the gym. Well, more of texting you instead of being productive, until.

"Fucking hell."

------

Tag list: @littlechomper @ab12305 @darkangel4121

A/N: I know you are waiting for her downfall, it will come promise.

[queenshelby]

Sweet Possession (Part 7)

Pairing: Very Dark! Thomas Shelby (32) x Innocent! Reader (19)

Warning: Age Gap, Smut

When you returned to Arrow House unwillingly,  the mansion that was once a symbol of love and safety never felt so cold and lonely. Thomas' eyes, cold as ever, drilled into yours as he greeted you with a deep look without uttering a word. He didn't have to. His message was loud and clear: he always had the upper hand.

You tried to suppress the shiver running down your spine as you glimpsed at the stern expression on his face, realizing that your hope for escape had been nothing more than a fleeting dream. The weight of your current situation bore down on you heavily, forcing reality to settle in.

"Come inside and have something to eat. You must be hungry, Love," he then said , making an attempt to act on his usually endearing nature. Even after all that had transpired, his voice carried a warmness that somehow made you forget about the contents in the lockbox, if only for a moment.

But you knew better. You knew that beneath the facade of charm and wit lay a man whose intentions were far from romantic or kind.

"I am not hungry ," you managed to choke out, your voice barely above a whisper.

Thomas frowned at your response as he lead you inside and helped you to take off your coat before handing it to one of the maids, which is also when you noticed several more men inside the house : some familiar, others not so much.

"Suit yourself ," Thomas said as he escorted you to the dining room, leaving your words to hang in the air. His sudden shift in demeanor was enough to make you feel uneasy and confused. You made a mental note to keep your guard up and be careful about what you shared with him.

"I am sorry," you stammered nervously as he pulled out a chair for you at the dining table while the men who were in the house earlier scurried away as your husband and you sat down to eat, giving you a feeling of being constantly watched. 

"For what, exactly, are you sorry for, Love?"  Thomas asked as he sat down opposite you, the distance between you and him feeling wider than ever before. You swallowed hard, desperately trying to find the right words to explain.

"For leaving, of course," you said after a moment of silence, your voice shaky. "I shouldn't have done it without telling you first." 

Thomas regarded you for a long moment, his face unreadable.

"It's in the past now Y/N and I trust that you won't leave like this again, eh?"  Thomas said, his voice low and gravelly as he leaned forward, his intense blue eyes locked onto yours.

You couldn't help but feel a shiver run down your spine at the menacing tone in his voice. But you knew better than to argue with him, especially after what had been revealed to you in the past two days. Thomas Shelby was not a man to be trifled with and you knew that you would have to tread lightly if you wanted to stay on his good side.

"Of course not, Thomas. I promise," you murmured quietly, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Good ," Thomas replied, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his lips. "I'm glad we understand each other."

But despite his seemingly kind words, you couldn't shake off the feeling of unease that had settled in your chest. You knew that Thomas was capable of anything, and you couldn't help but wonder if this whole situation was just another one of his twisted games.

The rest of the evening passed in a blur as you forced yourself to eat and make small talk with Thomas. Your mind was racing, trying to make sense of everything that had happened.

You felt like you were living in a nightmare, unable to wake up and escape the twisted reality that had become your life.

Thomas Shelby, the man you loved and trusted, had turned out to be someone entirely different from who you thought he was. He was manipulative, controlling, and dangerous. 

"I am really exhausted Tommy, I might just head to bed," you muttered softly after a few hours of having forced yourself to keep him company. As you looked up at Thomas, your voice was trembling slightly, and you tried to hide the fear that was steadily building up inside of you.

Thomas's eyes softened as he looked back at you and for a moment, he seemed almost human.

"Alright Love. I will join you shortly, eh," he said, a soft smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

You forced a similarly weak smile and nodded as you stood up from your chair, excusing yourself and making your way up the grand staircase to the sleeping quarters.

Once inside your bedroom, you hastily closed the door behind you, feeling a small sense of relief wash over you. You took a deep breath, leaning against the heavy wooden door, trying to calm your beating heart.

Tears threatened to spill from your eyes, but you held them back, not wanting to give in to the fear and sadness that had taken over your heart.

With a shiver, you walked to the large mirror in your room, studying your reflection. Your long hair was disheveled from the long train ride and your big eyes looked tired and anxious.

You dreaded the moment at which your husband would join you tonight, just like every other night, knowing that his needs had to be satisfied.

Saying no to him now after what you did was not something you could afford , even though the thought of him touching you made your skin crawl. You couldn't help but feel a sense of disgust towards yourself, for allowing things to go this far.

You had always enjoyed the intimacy between you, feeling attracted to him, but now it had become something else entirely. It was as if you were living with a stranger, someone who held all the power and control over you and you hated the thought of him seeking to be intimate with you. 

Eventually, after contemplating your options for a while on how to get out of sleeping with your husband, you went to bed, realizing that you had none. You lay there, stiff as a board, your mind racing with thoughts of escape and freedom that seemed like impossibilities now.

You squeezed your eyes shut, waiting for the inevitable and, soon enough, the door opened with a creak. Thomas stepped inside quietly as you pretended to be asleep, wondering if your charade would be successful. You heard his footsteps as he moved closer and closer to the bed before stopping short next to you, a sigh escaping his lips.

You could feel him strip down to his clothes, the bed shifting slightly under his weight as he climbed in beside you without making any attempt to initiate anything.  

Minutes passed and still, you felt nothing but cold sheets and an even colder presence beside you but, just as you thought that you could actually go to sleep, your breath hitched as a hand slid across your waist, tracing the curve of your hip before settling on your thigh.

Tommy moved closer towards you and his touch sent a shiver down your spine, causing you to freeze. 

As if sensing your distress, he whispered in your ear, "I know you are awake, Love . Let's not play games, eh?" he told, his hand sneaking up to slide under your nightgown, gently caressing your smooth skin. You could feel him harden against your backside, his desire for you palpable. As much as the thought of being close to him made you uncomfortable now, you knew better than to protest.

Your mind raced, searching for a way to escape this situation, but all your thoughts were pushed aside as his hand moved beneath your panties.

"Relax, Love. You're so tense," he murmured in your ear, his breath hot against your skin. You could feel his body press up against yours, his erection now obvious. "I won't hurt you, eh? I would never fucking hurt you," Tommy told you as he circled over your clit. 

Feeling helpless and defeated, you let out a sigh and allowed your body to soften slightly. You didn't want to admit it, but his touch did sent a shiver of pleasure through you, and you couldn't help but moan as, without warning, he slipped a finger inside of you.

"That's it , Love," he whispered in your ear, his hips rocking against your ass as he began to move his finger in and out of you at a steady pace before wasting no more time and withdrawing it from your slick folds.

You laid there quietly, trying not to make a noise as he pushed down your panties, completely exposing you. You felt vulnerable and exposed. His hand came down to squeeze your ass roughly, before moving to your pussy once more, parting your lips with his fingers and rubbing your clit in slow circles.

"Fuck, you're so wet," he groaned as he continued to stroke your clit. Despite the fact that you were still uncomfortable with the situation, it was impossible to deny the pleasure building inside of you.

Soon you felt the head of his cock brush against your entrance and then he slowly pushed inside of you, filling you up completely.

Tommy let out a deep moan as he buried himself to the hilt within you, pausing for a moment before pulling out almost completely and then thrusting back in with more force, making you gasp as he did so.

He continued to fuck you roughly, his hips slapping against your ass with each powerful stroke, his breath hot and heavy against your shoulder blade as he leaned in close.

"Fuck, you feel so good, Y/N," Thomas murmured in your ear as he continued to pound into you from behind. His fingers dug into your hips as he pulled you back onto his cock with each thrust.

You stifled a moan, not wanting to give him the satisfaction  of knowing how good it felt. But as he sped up, you couldn't help but let out a small cry of pleasure.

"That's it, Love," Thomas groaned, "You are mine. My fucking property."  Thomas's voice was ragged and deep, sending shivers down your spine as he thrust into you from behind. 

"Say it!" he demanded gruffly, his fingers digging into your hips as he continued to thrust into you with a relentless pace. "Say you're mine!"

His command was met with a soft whimper, your mind reeling from the force of pleasure coursing through your body. You tried to resist, but it was no use - Thomas had you pinned down and at his mercy.

"I'm yours!" you cried out, the words tumbling from your lips before you could stop them as you came, hard and fast, crying out loudly in pleasure. 

Thomas let out a low growl of satisfaction as you finally conceded to his demands.

"That's right, Love. You are mine," he said, his voice dripping with lust as he continued to piston in and out of you. His fingers gripped your hips tighter, pulling you back onto his cock with every punishing thrust until, suddenly, and unexpectedly, he stilled, groaning loudly. 

"No, stop," you gasped as you tried to wiggle away from him, realizing what was happening, but it was too late . He was already filling you up with his release, his movements slowing as he rode out the waves of pleasure coursing through him.

"Fuck," he groaned, his hot breath panting against your neck and his seed pouring into you as he filled you up to the brim.

Your body was still spasming from your own orgasm, responding to his touch even though your mind was screaming in protest. You couldn't help but think about how much you wanted to push him away and wipe him off of you, but your muscles were still trembling from the force of your release.

As Thomas slowly pulled out of you, you turned over onto your back and looked up at him with a mixture of anger and disgust.

"You came inside me," you spat out, wiping his essence away from your thigh as if it was of any use now.

"I did," he replied nonchalantly, a sly smirk playing on his lips. "Because you are my fucking wife after all," he added as he leaned down, brushing a stray strand of hair away from your face. You couldn't help but recoil at his touch, the thought of his seed now inside of you making your skin crawl.

He knew that you were not ready to become a mother , but it seemed like he didn't care. You wanted to shout at him, to scream and hit him for his actions, but you held back and simply turned around , climbing out of the bed with a grimace.

You hurried to the bathroom, needing a moment to gather yourself together and trying to wash away the lingering feelings of disgust you felt towards Thomas and his actions - but more importantly, towards yourself for allowing it to happen again and again.

As you stared at your reflection in the mirror, tears started running down your cheeks again, but this time, they were not from fear or despair- they were angry tears. Angry at the situation you had been placed into, angry at yourself for being too weak to stand up against it. Angry tears for the fact that, despite all of this, you somehow craved him. 

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[vent-stink]

Y/n helps Seonghwa

a/n: not proofread (not well, anyway) c/w: oral (m receiving) pairings: owner!Seonghwa x cat hybrid!reader w/c: 1.9k

Seonghwa didn't usually close the door to his bedroom after coming home, so y/n didn't know what to do with herself as the very such thing occurred one day. She slept in Seonghwa's room every night, and it was her routine to plant herself on the bed in whatever position she felt comfortable in that moment and watch Seonghwa with her curious feline eyes as he winded down from his day.

Now she sat at the end of the hallway of bedrooms, staring at the closed bedroom door, at a loss of what to do. "What do you think he's doing?" y/n asked San who was lounging on the couch, not as curious about Seonghwa's apparently odd behavior as she was. He snickered, "I dunno~" His tone indicated that he probably did know, y/n could tell, but she huffed, wanting to find out for herself.

She went to the door, sitting in front of it. She couldn't immediately hear anything, so she pressed her ear against it, listening intently.

Consistent, labored breaths. The occasional sound of his desperate voice in between them. Y/n's hair stood on end, trying to understand what she was hearing, wondering if she was hearing what she thought it was. Seonghwa's breathy curse found her ears, "Fuck- Ah-"

Y/n wasn't in control of her own body when she opened the door a Crack. She just wanted to see, but it was obvious that that wasn't all she was going to end up doing.

Y/n looked at Seonghwa, perched on the edge of the bed, almost heaving as he worked his cock with his hand. His dress shirt was unbuttoned and his slacks were pulled down just below his cock as he was too desperate to get himself off.

Fuck, his coworker had just looked so sexy today. He felt dirty touching himself to the thought of them knowing he had no chance, they weren't into men, but that didn't stop their constant touches throughout the day from working him up so much that this was the result.

Y/n watched with a watering mouth as Seonghwa pleasured himself. She'd never seen her daddy's cock, only having seen the slight protrusion of it when he was stripping into his boxers. She'd never seen him hard, clothed or otherwise. The way her tummy felt right now was different than when was saw San's cock. She wanted to touch Seonghwa so badly.

Seonghwa stopped when he heard a small whimper coming from the door, cursing as the orgasm he'd been working himself up to fell short making him release a pained moan.

He wasn't surprised to see y/n there. He should have locked the door. He sighed as she stared at, not his face, but his hard member. There'd be no way her curiosity would let her leave, now.

"Hi princess," He murmured, lightly stroking himself again, "Do you wanna come watch?" He did not have to ask y/n twice as she gasped, promptly crawling into the room, closing the door behind her.

She sat in front of Seonghwa as he started up again, Y/n watching intently at movement of his hand, the speed, the delicacy, the technique, and his face, contorted in pleasure. She couldn't take her eyes off him. She wanted to be the reason he made that face.

She let out a harsh breath unconsciously and Seonghwa looked at her as she came closer to him, close enough to touch him if he wanted her to. "Y/n-" "Can I help you, daddy?"

He sucked in a sharp breath of air, "You-" He was at a loss for words. He didn't intend for her to ever do this, hadn't even thought of it for a second, even when he let her watch him. He just thought she had been curious, and she was, but she was definitely more than that, evident by the way she was looking at him and the way she was shifting her closed legs in between which her arousal was wet.

"Can I touch you, daddy, please?" She was close enough that she could lay her head on his thigh right next to his cock, looking up at him with such desperation that it would physically hurt him to say no to her, even aside the fact that he was throbbing so painfully that he might explode.

Seonghwa was conflicted, but at her final whisper of, "please," he relented. "Sure, baby...fuck, you can touch me...," he murmured, and he had to hold bad the intensity of his groan at the feeling of her soft small hand tracing the veins of his dick.

He debated continuing to stroke himself as she simply explored the contours of his penis, but decided to fist his hands into the blanket instead, giving her free range to touch him as she pleased. Eventually releasing from this would be more satisfying than just fucking his hand, he reasoned.

His breaths were shaky. He was extremely reactive as she finally wrapped one hand around his cock. She experimented, stroking him a little, the way he had been doing before and his labored breathing returned. Then she stopped to watch his expression as she lightly squeezed. "Fuck! Y/n don't-," she did it again, causing to him throw his bed back, biting his lip at the stimulation.

He was sensitive. Every little movement of her hand on his cock was like a drop of water in the desert, quenching his thirst. Satisfied with the reaction she'd gotten from him, she moved on curiously to the angry red tip of his cock. She hadn't seen him touch it, wondering why as she ran her thumb over the very tip of it.

The sound that left Seonghwa was loud, almost pathetic, as he felt her touch his sensitive tip. Y/n's interest peaked at this. She realized that a substance was secreting from the small slit in his dick that she had touched. Seonghwa watched as she stuck that very thumb in her mouth, tasting him.

The only reasonable following action was for her to consume the delectable substance from the source. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!" Seonghwa jerked his hips as y/n unexpectedly (to him at least) sucked his tip into her mouth, rolling her tongue around it, as if literally trying to suck the precum out.

She gave kitten licks to his tip, and it was too much as Seonghwa took her by the hair, tugging her back to halt her movements. His chest was heaving, her eyes were wide, and they both just wanted to continue, but he had to teach her what he needed right now. She could take her time sucking him down like a lollipop another day, but he needed his cock in her throat as soon as possible.

"Do you think you can take it all in your mouth, baby?" He asked gently, "have you done this to San before?" She shook her head. San was usually too busy drilling his cock into her cunt for her to take it into her mouth, but as she looked at Seonghwa's length, while she didn't know if she could fit it all in her mouth, she knew she definitely wanted to.

"Can I help you?" He asked, "Can I help you do it?" She nodded. With the grip he had on her hair, he moved her head forward slowly, pushing his cock into her open mouth.

She closed her mouth around him, sitting still for a moment. It was an uncomfortable position and when she attempted to breathe, she gagged around him, almost violently. Seonghwa pulled out and she gasped, coughing. "M'sorry, daddy. M'sorry!"

Seonghwa pet her reassuringly, "It's okay baby, just breathe slowly through your nose, okay? Do you wanna try again?" She nodded, determined to get it right.

Seonghwa led her through it again, and this time she breathed through her nose, slowly so that she didn't suck air in too fast and gag again. When her lips reached the base of his shaft and stayed there as he watched her calmly take a few breaths, he finally let out his own breath of relief. He was holding himself back from fucking into her mouth, but he could never do that to her. She was being so sweet and patient and obedient, he was going to make sure that this was a good experience for her.

Then she started moving.

He didn't prompt her in any way, but as she sat still with his cock in her mouth, now at least a little more confident that she wouldn't gag as easily, she knew that she had to move in order for her to pleasure him the way she wanted to. So she pulled her head back then back down again.

He hissed, letting go of her hair in fear that he might actually push her down too harshly, and he let her find a rhythm. It started slow as she got used to the feeling, still making sure that she wouldn't gag. Then finally started getting faster when she started feeling confident, Seonghwas loud moans a signal to her that she was doing a good job.

It wasn't hard for Seonghwa's orgasm to start building again. He had already been so horny that he could have nutted if y/n had been 2 seconds slower in opening the door. Paired with his hypersensitivity to her, since this was the first time she had remotely don't anything like this, especially for him, he was loving this.

As he felt himself about to burst, he attempted to pull her off of his cock, but she held firm. He didn't want to have to cum in her mouth the first time, she wasn't used to it. But there was no stopping her. "Fuck, y/n, my baby, my good girl, such a good girl, fuck, I'm cumming!" He groaned, releasing his load into her mouth. She didn't expect it, but she was not opposed to it at all. It had a taste that she somehow craved as if she had been needing it for so long without even knowing. She hadn't even realized that her own legs were trembling, hips rocking against nothing as her own high was being built up.

"Shit, y/nnie," He spoke as he pulled her off his cock even as he was still releasing, causing some of it to fall on her face and chest. He frowned when it got on her clothes, this apparently being an important issue when his seed was literally spilling out of him.

Y/n licked her lips, and despite his initial reservations about her swallowing his come, he couldn't help but bring his hand to her mouth, his index and middle finger pressing down on her tongue to look back into her throat, seeing that it was all gone.

"You're so good, swallowing like a good girl," he murmured petting her head as she leaned her head on his thigh again, nearly vibrating at the praise. Seonghwa noticed the movement of her hips and was about to offer to help when she let out a loud moan, hips juttering.

She heaved, "I'm a good girl, daddy?" Despite her exhaustion she wanted to keep hearing him praise her. "Did you just cum, baby?" he asked, still stroking her head, and she nodded against his leg.

He just looked at her with awe, "You came from just my cock in your mouth. You liked it that much?"

"Love your cock, daddy," she said softly, "Love it so much. Love your taste."

He smiled warmly at her, "Well, you can have it whenever you want, okay?" "Daddy can have me, too," she mumbled, "I want to please, daddy."

"You please daddy every day just by loving him."

[agent-cupcake]

Amen

Pairing: Suguru Geto x f! Reader

Synopsis: No matter the severity of your actions, Suguru would never actually hurt a member of his sorcerer family. Luckily, there are other ways he can think of to punish you. It's for your own good.

Warnings: Explicit smut, dubcon, possessive behavior, manipulation

Tags: Punishment, edging, orgasm denial, overstimulation, dirty talk, vibrators, bondage, orgasm torture, cunnilingus, humiliation

Word Count: 10.4k

Notes: This story is for @laurenzel. I think this can be almost seen as a companion to my previous Gojo story since there's similar toxic motives and means used by the men, but a difference in method.

“Would you care to join me tonight?” was what Geto said to you, smiling so sweetly, so gently. He said it like an offer, or a question, but you both knew the answer. It was the same as it had been since the very first time he asked, since the first time he kissed you, since the first night you spent together.

And you, finally given direction in the big, confusing world, couldn’t even conceive of saying no to Geto. You didn’t have to do, say, or think anything on your own—just follow him. And you did. Happily, you did, thinking nothing of the offer other than how pleased you were that he asked. 

Chills prickled over your bare arms and legs when you walked into his room. The air felt a few degrees too cool, especially when you were accustomed to the August heat. Everything about his room seemed cold. It was furnished in stark contrast to the simple, traditional temple façade the rest of the complex maintained outwardly. Black painted walls, a hard floor, and ebony furniture upholstered with dark leathers and suedes. There was a flat, modern utilitarianism to the room despite its luxury, all at once inviting and off putting. The silky black sheets and dusky saturation of velvety vanilla and citrus lent a sex appeal to the room that you inextricably associated with Geto.

“Will you help me with this?” he asked, gesturing to his clothes. 

“Yes, of course,” you said, rushing to his side to help him undress. Even though the vestments Geto wore were for show, the articles were genuine and required careful handling. A perfect costume needed to be authentic. You unfastened the kasaya first, hanging it up. 

“I think,” he said while your hands were busy, “we need to talk about what you did.” 

You paused, turning to him with your brow furrowed, your stomach dropping in response to the accusatory tone of his voice. “What did I do?” 

“You killed Kurokawa.” 

Your frown deepened, your chest tightening with a harsh burst of guilt. “How do you know that?” 

Geto raised an eyebrow. That was the wrong thing to ask, it made you look more guilty than you were. Besides, the answer was obvious. He knew everything. You shook your head fast, trying to come up with an explanation that didn’t sound like an excuse. 

 “I… I thought you would be happy I took care of him,” you said. “He was causing trouble. He was a bad man.” 

“If you thought I would be pleased, why didn’t you tell me right away?” 

There were reasons, weren’t there? Good ones, explanations that could help you smooth this over. Beneath the weight of his gaze, you couldn’t think of any of them. “I… I don’t, um…  I was going to, but I didn’t want to distract you or anything. I’m not… I didn’t mean-”

“No. You didn’t tell me because you knew you were wrong,” Geto stated, telling you so directly that you couldn’t help but believe it.  

“I’m sorry,” you said softly. 

“To be clear, I’m not concerned with his death,” Geto told you. “I’m worried about you. About what you might do without my intervention. I have been for a while.”  

“I don’t… I don’t understand,” you said. That was probably the most true thing you could say, the sentiment that defined your existence. You did not understand. 

“I like to think that you’ve grown since you joined the family, but sometimes I don’t know if I can trust you to act with a clear head. Kurokawa was a doctor, wasn’t he?” 

You bristled at the reminder, mentally pushing back on the idea that you did it for such a personal reason. “He was… he was dangerous,” you argued. “He wanted to get the police involved.” 

“That isn’t my point,” Geto explained. “You acted out on your own. I knew Kurokawa was causing problems, but I didn't ask you to kill him. He still had value to me, in his own way." He paused, considering you with pursed lips. "If you told me what you did immediately, maybe I wouldn’t jump to conclusions, but as it is, all this proves is that you haven’t moved beyond your past experiences. I can’t trust you."

You bit your lip, swaying back as if those words had been a physical blow, only becoming more confused. Completely and utterly confused about how killing somebody who was a bad man, killing a hateful monkey upset Geto. You did it for him. You did it because the man was evil, and because he said terrible things, and because he was a hideous embodiment of the type of person who would see you locked up tight in another drug dispensing, mind-numbing, monkey hospital. 

All you could understand was that you had disappointed Geto, and the cutting violence of his doubt cut deep into your chest as physically as a knife. 

“I’m sorry,” you said again.

“Are you going to finish this?” Geto asked rather than acknowledge your apology, pulling at his collar. You nodded, rushing back to his side to untie the obi sash and fold it, helping him shrug off his black yukata to hang that up as well.

Left in a tight undershirt, a pair of loose pants, and socks he was quick to peel off and toss aside, Geto-sama emerged from his costume looking a decade younger and twice as dangerous. Like this, he was Suguru. You weren’t equals, but you were more than a little familiar. Although, you weren’t sure if you would dare to be so friendly with him now that you understood you were in trouble.

Before, you assumed you were here because he desired you. Now that felt presumptuous and silly.   

You averted your eyes and stepped back, waiting for the other shoe to drop. The silence physically hurt. Apologies built up like a dam in your head, stopping any other sort of thought from getting through as guilt brewed and boiled in your stomach. Worse, you couldn’t say he was wrong. Maybe you had knowingly acted against Geto, against the family, because of what Kurokawa represented to you. Maybe you couldn’t be trusted. And, if that was true, maybe you deserved his anger and all of the terrible things that followed anger.     

“Are you nervous?” Suguru asked. 

“No,” you said quickly. 

“Liar. I can hear it. Your heart is racing. You’re scared. Is it me?” He nudged your chin up with the side of his hand, forcing you to meet his eyes and the little smile he wore. “Are you frightened of me?” 

“You’re angry,” you said, shrinking back. “Angry with me.”

“Oh,” Suguru hummed thoughtfully, “so you’re scared that I’m going to punish you. Is that it?” 

Hesitantly, you nodded. 

“You’re right, I am.” 

Your breath caught before you shook your head fast, panicking. “No, you… I’m really sorry. I mean it, I was just trying to… He deserved to die.”

“I understand,” Suguru said, “and I appreciate what you say you were trying to do. The problem is that I don’t believe that was your motive. That is why I’m upset.” He ran his fingers through his hair, putting into a messy bun. “Do you understand the distinction?”

You blinked fast, feeling the horrible bite of tears stinging the corners of your eyes. “Yes, sir.”

“Good. Now… what do you think would be a fitting punishment?” 

You looked up at him in stark shock, hoping desperately that you misunderstood him. He didn’t clarify anything, simply waiting for you to answer. You shook your head again, your mouth opening and closing before you managed a meek, “I don’t know.” 

“But you agree, don’t you?” he asked, going over to his chest of drawers. Suguru looked at you over his shoulder, eying you up and down, drinking your awkward nerves. “You deserve to be punished for your disobedience.”

You exhaled sharply, conflicted about what kind of answer to give. More importantly, what kind of answer he wanted. If you were smarter, you would be able to talk your way out of this situation. If you were better attuned to Suguru’s needs, you would be able to give him what he wanted. If you were loyal, he wouldn’t have been mad in the first place. Those thoughts weren’t helpful, all you could do was stare and try to solve the puzzle of his mood. You had seen that little smirk on his face when he teased Nanako, but also when he killed non-jujutsu sorcerers that had outlived their usefulness. 

“You’re really asking me?” you finally got out, the only response you could muster.

His back was turned to you now as he looked through the drawer, but you saw his shoulder raise in a casual shrug. “I’m curious.” 

 Your gut instinct was to deny that you deserved punishment to try and spare yourself, but you held that impulse. You had already agreed that you did something wrong, so denying that you deserved punishment could make things worse. Then again, if you agreed, then maybe he would take that as permission to do even worse. Either one could potentially upset him too, because it would prove that you didn’t know what he wanted. Suguru did nothing to alleviate your nervous indecision as he turned around, holding an unmarked red box, watching you with that enigmatic smirk.

“If you think I do,” you said carefully, “then-”

“No,” he said, cutting you off. “I am asking if you acknowledge that you deserve punishment for what you have done.”

“I won’t do it again,” you told him, your voice soft. “I promise.” 

Suguru frowned. “That’s not what I asked.”

“I know, but it’s true,” you insisted. Rather than relent to your distress, his eyes narrowed dangerously, finally giving you some indication about the response he actually wanted. “I do!” You said quickly. “I…” The words were thick like syrup, awkward to get out. “I deserve to be punished.” 

Suguru smiled, setting the box on the bed and sitting on the black leather footboard bench, his legs spread wide and comfortable and head slightly tilted.  

“Are you going to hurt me?” you asked softly.

“Hurt you?” Suguru asked, raising a thin eyebrow. “I would never hurt you. I don’t think you’re likely to learn from pain anyway, hm? It wasn’t effective for your parents or doctors.”

“But… but you said you were going to punish me?” you asked, looking between him and the box with an increasing amount of anxiety. 

“Take off your clothes.”

Your jaw dropped. “I… My… You mean it?” 

He raised both eyebrows, daring you to deny him. You clutched at the front of your dress, your shoulders curling in. 

“But why?” you asked. He immediately gave you a pointed look, like you were stupid. “This… it’s… You want to…?” You couldn’t even finish the question, the whole thing was so divorced from any coherence you could wrap your head around. 

“You're allowed to say no and leave, I won’t stop you,” Suguru told you. He considered that for a moment, his head falling to the side. “If you stay, we’ll switch to your safe word rather than no. You remember it, don’t you?”

Safe word? You remembered him establishing that the first night he allowed you into his bed, but you hadn’t really thought much of it. Why would you ever want him to stop? Now the thought of it made you feel a little cold, and not because of the air conditioner valiantly chugging away in an attempt to keep the August heat at bay. It had taken a few days to come to terms with sleeping with Suguru after it first happened, but this was unreal in an entirely different way. You felt like you were looking down a very long, dark tunnel, like you were hopelessly and utterly lost.   

“I do,” you said faintly. “I remember.” 

“It’s your choice then.” 

You winced, unable to look at him. You weren’t going to leave. That was unthinkable. The idea of undressing in front of him like it was some sort of show wasn’t especially comfortable either, but you understood that you would do it. “That’s… it’s embarrassing.”

“I’ve noticed,” Suguru said. “You don’t want to think of yourself as the type of woman who would strip for a man. But you are, and you will. For me.”

You flushed darker, avoiding his eyes. Trying to keep your breathing from going completely out of control, you nodded. It was easier to obey. You wouldn’t know what you would do if you left his room right now, where you would go, how you would feel. It wasn’t about you, it was about what you had done to disappoint Suguru, and how you would make it right. He wanted to know that you were loyal, that you had left behind the pathetic wretch you used to be. 

Humiliating as it was, he was helping you. That was all he had ever done. 

“Yes, sir.” 

With shaking hands, you unzipped your dress. Considering the summer heat, you were wearing as little as possible. Three articles of clothing separating you from his eyes. You weren’t sure if that was better, making it so the process of undressing wasn’t so drawn out, or worse because it meant you couldn’t stall. 

“Keep going,” Suguru said when you hesitated with your thumbs hooked beneath the waistband of your panties. Closing your eyes, you pushed them down. The only positive you could think of was that you had the foresight to shave the night before. Ever since the first night you slept together you’d been taking personal grooming extremely seriously. Removing your bra was the worst of it all, but you dutifully undid the clasps and pushed the straps down your arms. He had seen you naked before, you reasoned. Even if you were disappointing, he still had asked to see you. It was fine. 

If Suguru wanted it, it was fine.

“You’re too pretty to be so self-conscious,” he told you in a very calm, matter-of-fact way. 

You tried not to shuffle awkwardly, clasping your hands in front of your stomach to hide their shaking. “Thank you,” you said softly, unable to meet his eyes even if you could feel them heavily on your flushing skin. 

“Come here,” Suguru ordered. In your peripheral, you saw his hand raise, a single finger curling to draw you towards him. 

You obeyed on awkward feet, glad to close the distance. He sat up to meet you face to face, having to look up at you for once and pulling you closer. You automatically parted your lips to kiss him. That was something you knew how to do. But his parted lips only brushed the corner of your mouth. When you tried to tilt your head to catch him, Suguru pulled back. Your eyes fluttered open—when had you closed them?—to see him smirking at the little trick. 

“Get on the bed,” he ordered, releasing you.

Nerves knotted and tangled in your stomach. There was something hot about his detached control, but you weren’t sure you liked it either. Vulnerability was discomfort. And still, you knew better than to argue or question. Trying to preserve as much of your modesty as was possible, you got onto his bed. It was easier to comply. Better to be obedient like he wanted. You didn’t want to disappoint him again. 

“These are for you,” Suguru said, finally revealing the contents of the red box by lifting the glossy lid. 

You stared into the box with curiosity, and then with a sharp pang of recognition. After that, nerves. Dread. Excitement. Blinking over and over didn’t change what you saw, there was no mistake about what lay inside. A lot of leather. Some chains. Scarf-like ties. You were pretty sure the wand-shaped item was a vibrator. 

Suguru choked you last time you had sex, and he pinned your wrists down and pulled your hair and left marks on your thighs and chest, but this was different. Dangerous. This was scary. 

“Geto-sama…” you said nervously, sticking to the formal address in the hopes that he would understand the sincerity of your doubt. “I’m not…”

“As I said, you’re allowed to stop this at any time,” he said, dropping the lid back onto the box with a crisp snap. “I would never force you into anything. If you truly feel bad for what you have done and want to prove yourself to me, I shouldn’t need to coerce you.”

Guilt and nerves writhed in your stomach. And excitement, always excitement for the simple reason that it was Suguru. You would do anything for him, wouldn’t you? He had saved you. You disappointed him, it was only right that you did as you were told. You pushed the lid off again, forcing a sort of resolve. Your heart beat like a frantic war drum in your chest, and you were flushing so hotly it felt like a fever. 

“What’s this all for?” you asked, your voice hoarse. 

“You won’t be able to hold still on your own,” he replied simply. “Besides, I think you’ll look sexy like this. I was waiting for an opportunity to try it.” 

The bottom of your stomach gave way to anxious lust. You licked your lips, trying to calm yourself down. 

“Okay,” you said softly. 

“Put them on for me,” Suguru said, pulling out four of the leather cuffs. Your eyes widened, your lips parting to argue that as a step too far. It would be so much easier for you if he did it himself, if you didn’t have to actively engage with putting yourself in a literal bind. 

Although maybe that was the point. This was punishment. 

Prove your loyalty. You could do that for him. 

Despite your forced mental affirmation, the whole task seemed too daunting for a moment, you had a nervously suffocating sense like drowning, but you forced that down. You would do anything for Suguru. That’s what this was about. Proving to him that you were loyal, that you would do as he said. That you were devoted.  

You did the wrist cuffs first, slipping the first over your left hand and tightening the strap with your right. There was only one size; they would fit snugly. Thick chains hung from both cuffs. Although they weren’t as bad as pure metal bracelets, the leather wouldn’t be kind to your skin if you resisted too much. Tightening the strap on the right cuff was even worse since you were working with your non-dominant hand. 

“Do you need help?” Suguru asked, laughing at your frustrated attempts to get the tongue through the buckle. 

“Don’t laugh, please,” you begged, talking very softly to hide your increasingly unstable emotions. “I’m trying.” 

“Here,” he said indulgently, “let me.” Suguru held out his hands for you to let him finish securing the cuff. “Do you need help with your ankles?”

“No, I… Thank you,” you said, unable to look at his expression. You could do this. You had to do this. 

Still, your hands trembled unsteadily. When you nervously fumbled with the leather strap around your ankle, he laughed again. 

“Don’t look,” you mumbled. The chains hanging from your wrists playfully clinked against the chains on your ankles.  

“I have to make sure you do it properly. You could hurt yourself.”

“It’s embarrassing,” you whispered, more petulant than anything.  

“I know,” Suguru told you sweetly, “but you’ve been such a good girl so far.” 

Your breath caught at the praise. At the very least, he looked away to pull off his shirt. You used the distraction to get your ankles secured, watching him remove his pants with your hands between your legs to retain some modesty. Suguru, stripped to his boxers, surveyed your handiwork, a little smile growing on his face.

“What?” you asked nervously. 

“Given how shy you are, I thought it would take more than this to convince you to do this for me. I don’t know if I’m disappointed or impressed.”

You frowned with a twisting sense of betrayal, but he cut off your displeasure by grabbing your legs to yank you towards him, leaning over the bed so he could kiss you.  

Before Suguru, you hadn’t really understood what the point of kissing was. It was an act of affection you mirrored with others because it was what people did. When Suguru licked your lips open for himself, you understood. Any touch of his body against yours had a potent effect, but the openly intimate domination of his tongue against yours, his fingers slipping up your hair to tilt your head, the hand on your bare waist, it was enough to clear your mind all over again. Igniting the purest type of motivation—lust. 

You wanted to show him your devotion. You wanted him to know you were sorry. You clung to his shoulders, hoping he could feel it.

All too soon, Suguru pulled back, his lips hovering inches from your own. You tried to follow, but he held you in place by your hair. 

“I’m impressed,” he said, answering his comment from before. “I admire your dedication. I only wish it extended to your actions. I can’t trust you until I know you obey me.”

“I do,” you said. “I…I will.” 

“Not yet.” Suguru didn’t wait for your response, pressing a chaste kiss on your lips, your cheek, and then tilting your head to whisper in your ear. “Move back. I’ll take care of the rest,” he told you, his husky voice making you shudder.

“Yes, sir,” you muttered so softly you wondered if he heard you. When Suguru pulled away, you scooted back to sit in the center of his bed, waiting and watching with equal parts nerves and anticipation. He picked through the red box again, pulling out another set of leather cuffs and a bundle of those silky scarves. 

“Open your legs,” he ordered in a business-like voice as he joined you on the bed, crawling up to you and readying one of the leather straps. The sudden shift of tone surprised you, throwing you off all over again. 

“What’s that?” you asked nervously. He gave you a sharp look and you relented, opening your legs. Being exposed so brazenly made your skin crawl, but he paid no attention to your naked body, wrapping the strap around your thigh and fastening it, repeating the process on your other leg. 

“What is it that the monkey said to upset you?” Suguru asked casually as he tested the straps for give, deeming them satisfactory. The conversational tone burst your bubble of rose tinged intimacy, sending your thoughts back to unpleasant places. “I assume something set you off.” 

“I… um…” As if revealing a magic trick, he unwound a length of the red scarf-like fabric, distracting you from a question you hadn’t really understood in the first place.

“Or did he try to attack you?” Suguru pushed, neatly doubling the scarf and pulling it around your back. He had to sit close as he blindly tied the knot and the cashmeran twilight scent of his skin filled your senses, you held your breath when he pulled away just to keep it close for a moment longer. 

“Have you done this before?” you asked as he wound the scarf around your chest and shoulders with a practiced hand, searching for a distraction from the embarrassment. 

“Does it bother you if I have?” Suguru asked. 

“No, sir.” 

He had to lean forward again to fasten the final knot on your back. “You didn’t answer my question,” he said softly. “What happened?” 

You winced. “He called me delusional. He said I’m just a… a bitch in your harem, and that I’d go down with you.” 

“I see,” Suguru said, pulling back, his expression impassive. 

“I’m really sorry, Geto-sama,” you said. 

“Are you worried he’s right?” Suguru asked, his voice so saccharinely sweet it had to be mocking. 

“I don’t… I don’t know.” 

“You are special to me,” Suguru told you sweetly, petting your hair. 

“You’re special to me too,” you said, eager to try and express your adoration. “Very, very special.” 

“I’m doing this because you’re so special to me. I can help you grow, and help you move on. I can show you the benefits of an honest life without the petty influence of the weak, but I cannot force your obedience. I need you to choose to listen to me, to obey me.”

“That is my choice,” you said. 

“Haven’t you heard the phrase ‘actions speak louder than words’?” Suguru countered, revealing the final trick of his little magic show. The chains on your wrists connected to those on your ankles with a few inches of slack, your ankle cuffs connected to the straps on your thighs, and the loose ends of scarves from the harness he had just finished tying were threaded into the D-rings on your thigh straps. Unable to balance upright, you rolled onto your back, fully exposed and unable to do much of anything about it. “This is your chance to make amends.” 

Suguru put his hand on your bare chest, right above your racing heart as it beat against your ribs. “You’re scared again,” he said. “I told you I wouldn’t hurt you. Do you not believe that?” 

“I’m just…” you squirmed uncomfortably, unable to articulate what you felt. You didn’t know what you felt, couldn’t figure out anything beyond the intensely physical embarrassment and the panicked disquiet of being bound and exposed.  

“You know what to do to make this stop,” he pointed out, his hand dragging down your chest to your flinching stomach. “Just say the word, and I’ll let you leave.”

Suguru told you that almost like it was a joke. He was daring you to use the safe word and stop him, to show him that you weren’t as devoted as you claimed. His hand reached your pelvis and you whimpered, your hips wiggling in an undecided way. Did you want him to touch you, or were you nervous for that part? You couldn’t tell. The feelings were the same. 

He finally dropped over you, both of his hands resting on your ass before brushing up your thighs, pressing them further apart as he kissed you with an open mouth. Suguru’s tongue urgently met yours, teasing enough to invite your active and enthusiastic participation. To show him how much you wanted him. Of course you did. 

With a surprising bite on your lower lip, Suguru left your mouth to move down, licking and kissing his way across your jaw, following the line of your neck. He stopped there, sucking hard right above your pulse until you shuddered hard, making a soft, helpless noise. Your hands anxiously jerked, but all that did was snap the chains taut. Taking his time, his hand trailed down your thigh, his fingernails scraping the skin, until he reached your pussy. 

When Suguru’s fingers made contact with the sensitive flesh, you yelped, and he bit your neck hard enough to draw that yelp out into a pathetic keen. Your attempt to free your hands so you could push him back served only to pull your legs open wider. 

“Was that too much?” Suguru asked, lightly tracing your slit. 

“Hurts,” you said, your breathing hard and fast. He chuckled warmly, finding your clit and tracing little circles over it, just teasing. You whimpered. 

“You don’t mind, do you?” He asked, his lips brushing your skin as he moved down your chest. 

You made a choked, conflicted sound in your throat, any coherent response leaving your head the second his mouth closed around your nipple. Electric pulses of pleasure zipped down to your core, made that much more intense by the fingers on your clit. Suguru added more pressure against it, the weight sweetened by the friction of his calloused fingertips. Your hips rolled into the touch, your back arching for every delicious movement of his tongue or teeth on your nipple. 

A hoarse wail left your mouth when he released you with a wet pop, moving to do the same to your other nipple. His fingers were truly grinding against your clit at this point. It wasn’t the sweet enticement of pleasure, but a brute force motion that guaranteed you would come fast. 

You whined and moaned and shuddered, fighting the restraints. Sweat slicked up your skin, chafing beneath the restraints as you jerked, your body going taut to prepare for the sudden orgasm. You managed a choked, “I can’t, I can’t, I-” And then that tension snapped. It was good, but the rush was too fast and fleeting, fizzling itself out before you could savor the feeling. All it really did was make you want more.

With another lewdly wet pop, Suguru pulled off your nipple and sat up, his hand retreating from between your legs. “How did that feel?” he asked.

You swallowed, nodding fast. “‘s good. Tha-aa-nk you, sir.” 

“It’s interesting to me how much more sensitive girls are after coming,” Suguru said, teasing you with his fingers lightly tracing over your slit. “It’s almost obscene. Men need time, but you already want more, don’t you?” 

You shuddered, panting and flushed. “Yes. Yes, please.”

He smirked, although you couldn’t say you really understood the joke. Your entire body twitched, the chains clinking, and he licked his lips, looking at your flushed body like he was eying up a meal. 

Your eyes squeezed shut when he ran two fingers from your entrance, dragging a smear of slick arousal up to your clit. 

“No, don’t close your eyes,” Suguru said, beginning to draw patterns over your swelling clit. “Look at me.” 

You nodded, opening your eyes and meeting his gaze despite how overwhelming it was to be watched while he touched you so intimately. You squirmed, inhaling sharply through your teeth, already feeling the tantalizing build. 

“What about you?” you asked. “You don’t have to, um… um…” Blinking fast, breathing hard, your words scattered like dust and you felt the same tightening in your core, the sparkling promise of release. At the exact moment you were about to come again, Suguru pressed his hand flat between your legs, denying you that final push over the edge. 

Whining and desperate and so, so close, your hips bucked upward, desperate to come again. It was already too late, out of your grasp. “Geto-sama, please, I was-”

“No,” he said simply. 

“What?” 

“No. I’m not going to let you come again. I’ve already given you one more than you deserve.”

“No,” you whispered, horrified. “You… You can’t.” 

“No?” he repeated, his fingers tracing your clit slowly, with the barest amount of pressure. “You remember why I’m doing this, don’t you? I’m punishing you.” He pressed more intently against your clit. Unable to comprehend denial, your body began the process of drawing up tight. “You need to learn to be obedient. You have to learn to take whatever I see fit to give you.” 

“I am,” you gasped out. “I do, I-I will, I’m…” Your back arched, your arms and legs falling aside as if to make an offering of your body in the hopes that he would let you come this time. “I’m sorry that I… that I did that,” you babbled, your pussy tightening around nothing as your body got ready to come. “I’m really… really… I’m-” 

Suguru stopped just when you were on the precipice again, tapping your folds as if to mock your need. You squinted at him, your chest hitching a heavy breath, tears pricking your eyes. “But I said… Oh…” You didn’t finish what you were saying, too distracted by the slick slide of his fingers inside of you. So good. You swallowed hard, your cunt squeezing his fingers desperately as his fingers curled, dragging against your g-spot as they pulled out before thrusting forward. 

“If your words meant anything, you wouldn’t need to be punished in the first place,” Suguru pointed out, although you weren’t paying very close attention, your body awkwardly trying to roll into his fingers as they slowly fucked you. He touched your clit with his other hand, once again ensuring that you would come quickly. 

Too quickly, really. The intensity of pleasure shocked you, especially since you were so sensitive, desperate for more. “Please, can I… will you please… Please?” you begged, your animal need curbed slightly by fear. 

“You should know that no other man will do this for you,” Suguru said. “No one else will ever care for you the way I do.”

You nodded fast, knowing that was the truth. No other person in the world had ever been as kind or compassionate to you as Suguru. Nobody had ever wanted you, or made you feel important, or given you purpose. You loved him. You felt that affection swell alongside your building orgasm. 

He would let you come this time, he wasn’t slowing down. His fingers made a sickening wet schlick as they pumped in and out of your pussy, working in time with the finger on your clit. You were there, your body taut and ready and desperate and-

A wail escaped you when he stopped at the last moment, your entire body jerking in desperation to reclaim your ruined orgasm. As soon as it was gone, he returned to touching you in the same way, vigorously chasing you back to the edge and abandoning you seconds before you could get off. 

“Please,” you begged.

“I told you no,” Suguru reminded you, adding a third finger to pump and curl into your pussy as if to punctuate the cruel statement. You were off the edge now, but your body still stupidly strove to take more pleasure. You blinked tears, confused and needy and trembling, your breathing shallow. 

“Why?” 

He didn’t answer, he didn’t need to. The touch on your clit had you throwing your head back, your nostrils flared and teeth clenched. Chains clicked together when you tried to free your arms, but it was a fruitless struggle. You didn’t want to respond to his touch in the same way, you needed a reprieve, but there was no escape. You were sensitive. Your body remembered coming once, and that was enough of an incentive to try to get more. 

“You can always stop me,” Suguru said. “If it becomes too much.”

“It’s…” you told him, although your attempt to seem brave was weakened by your breathy, pathetic voice. “I’m… I can take whatever you give me. I’m…” You sobbed, overwhelmed by the drag of his fingers against your g-spot. He barely had to put any pressure on your clit, it was so swollen beneath his teasing fingers. “Please, sir. I just… Just one, please?”

“I already let you come once,” he reminded you, amused. 

You moaned miserably, your head tossing back and forth as you readied yourself for another orgasm. You hoped that maybe if you could just come before he noticed, then that would be enough to soothe the horrible ache, the fearful deprivation he kept stoking to a blaze. 

It was there, right at your fingertips, on the tip of your tongue, and Suguru hummed happily when he suddenly pulled his fingers out of you. You shouted, thrashing against your bindings. They all held, keeping you helpless beneath him. 

“Please, I… please.” 

“No,” Suguru said, slowly pushing just one finger into you. You sobbed when he used it to massage your g-spot. Not giving you any real pressure or weight or friction, just that constant reminder of the pleasure you had been denied.

“I can’t,” you said tearfully, straining to get more out of that single finger like a starving woman being thrown crumbs. 

“You can,” Suguru told you. His word was gospel. It didn’t matter what you thought. 

He pulled his finger out before you could get too used to it, only to return with three. You choked, your body jerking hard enough against the restraints to hurt, suddenly thrown into high gear as he properly finger-fucked you, bouncing your entire body. 

It didn’t matter that he wasn’t touching your clit, you could get off just on this. Your body was thrumming with denied pleasure and you wanted it so bad you could scream. 

“Yes, yes, please, yes—No!” 

You were properly sobbing this time when he stopped, almost horrified by the intensity of your body’s disappointment when his fingers pulled out. You had no idea how he was getting the timing so perfect, but it was worse than if he was just hurting you. Suguru shoved his fingers into your open mouth while you were still reeling, smearing the taste of your pussy onto your tongue. You didn’t need his instruction to suck on them, hoping that the display of thoughtless obedience would earn you some leniency.   

“Good girl,” he cooed, pushing his fingers deeper into your mouth, almost enough to make you choke. When he pulled them out, he didn’t linger, kissing a line down your stomach. Your arms fought the restraints when you realized his intentions because you weren’t sure you could handle feeling his mouth on you like this, not if he was going to keep denying you. 

“No,” you whined. “Please, I… I can’t…” 

“Yes, you can,” Suguru said calmly, not even bothering to look up at you.

A heavy, almost guttural moan left your mouth when his tongue licked past your folds, tossing you right back into the abyss of lustful need. All he had to do was brace his forearm across the backs of your thighs and you were unable to do anything, your trapped arms and legs twitching, your feet kicking uselessly into the empty air, the chains connecting them to your wrists clicking. 

Suguru was good at this, switching between flat-tongued licks and pointed patterns, closing his lips around your clit until you were choking out these pathetic little chirps, your body reacting in a way entirely out of your control. 

And when you were there, right at the very edge, he pressed a kiss to your clit and looked up at you from beneath his dark eyelashes. 

You sobbed, throwing your head back in a childish display of disappointment. 

“You’re alright. Breathe,” Suguru said.

“Please,” you begged.

Suguru hummed as he lowered his head, shaking it side to side with his tongue flat against your clit. Your toes curled, your hands forming pathetic fists.  

It didn’t take much to build you up all over again, your entire body was wired and ready. You didn’t think you had ever felt so aware of yourself. Your skin, your pussy, your heart, your body, everything crackled and blazed. What was he doing, drawing kanji with his tongue? You didn’t know, but it felt amazing. You chased that feeling knowing you shouldn’t, thinking that maybe this time, maybe if you were fast enough. Maybe, maybe, maybe-

“No, please, I just wanna…” Suguru’s tongue stilled and he pulled away, watching you fall apart at yet another denied orgasm. “No!”

He casually pressed two fingers into you, massaging them against that spongy spot with a wet squish that was beyond obscene. “You know what to say to make me stop,” he told you.

“I know,” you said, wishing you could cover your face, wishing for some point of sanity here in this lust-mad haze. “I don’t want… Please, Geto-sama, I just wanna come, please.”

“Oh?” he said, his other hand returning to rest on your pelvic bone to playfully tease your clit. “Do you think you deserve that?” 

“I…” You tried desperately to figure out the correct answer by looking at his expression, but you couldn’t tell and his hands kept you distracted. Deserve didn’t matter, all you could think was that you wanted to come. “Yes?” you said, hoping very much that was the correct response, practically praying for the torment to end. His fingers slowed and you let out an embarrassing little keen. “Ah… No, no I…” His expression still didn’t change, leaving you scrambling. Your chest hiccupped with a sob, your confused spiral boiling down to the pit of desperate need. “I don’t know.”  

Rather than respond, Suguru’s head lowered between your legs once more to tongue your clit in time with his fingers. You felt a hot rush of hope that you got something right, that he was finally going to let you come. Your entire body surged towards the feeling, going so stiff that it made your trembling muscles ache. 

And there, right on the edge, he stopped. You didn’t have it within you to do anything other than cry, openly weeping at this point. If he were only teasing you it would be one thing, but he was purposefully working you right up to the edge and then abandoning you there. It was the feeling of being unable to sneeze amplified to a million, that torturous feeling of almost.  

“I’ll do anything, please,” you told him, your voice coming out broken.

“Are you saying you wouldn’t before?” Suguru asked. You opened your mouth to argue, only to realize that it didn’t matter. Nothing you said or did mattered, you were helpless to him. You had already surrendered everything else, the only thing you could do was obey and hope for his mercy.  

You understood. He didn’t want you to beg. He wanted you to obey. To be good for him without question. 

You could do that. 

Suguru pushed his fingers back into you, repeating the whole process of working you up and abandoning you again. And again. And then he added his mouth. There were several times in your life you’d been pushed to the absolute brink of sanity, and right then you were convinced that you were going to go mad. But you grit your teeth and endured it. You had to. This was your punishment, and Suguru would decide when to end your misery. 

You had to be good for him.  

Had you ever been this wet? Swollen too, all of your blood flowing dangerously hot between your legs. It was disgusting, your pussy was sloppy and red and he barely had to touch your clit at all to build you right up to that edge. And it was just as easy to let you fall, disappointed and unfulfilled and growing increasingly, painfully distraught from the denial. 

You beat your fists pathetically against the bed, hitting your head into the pillow like a madman. Air puffed out of your chest fast and hard enough to make your head spin, like there wasn’t enough oxygen in the room. 

Rather than continue the torture, Suguru grabbed your chin, dragging you out of your spiraling haze. His fingers were slick from being inside of you. You met his eyes through a veil of tears. “Have you had enough?” he asked, his voice wavering with a parody of pity. “I’m worried you’re going to hyperventilate.” 

You blinked fast, trying to gather the coherence to respond. “I can… I can take it,” you told him with a miserable sort of resolve, your voice thin and breathless. 

Suguru smiled. “Really? And if I said I intended to leave you like this, perhaps to go find a way to fix the mess you made?” 

The thought was enough to make you sob. His attention was torturously uncomfortable, but being completely denied any resolution, being left bound and soaking wet and electrified with unfulfilled need, you almost would have rathered he hit you. 

But you nodded, forcing yourself to accept it. Anything less would be to reject his authority over you, right? It would make you seem less loyal. “Anything,” you whispered.

“Ah, that look in your eyes is wonderful,” he cooed. “You mean it, don’t you?” 

You nodded insistently. “I love you,” you told him, speaking without thought, saying it because it was true. “I’ll do… I’ll do anything.”

“Okay, I’ll let you come,” Suguru said, releasing your face so his hand could wander back down between your legs. 

You made a weak noise, your body unconsciously jerking, straining towards him. 

It was pathetic, he barely had to do anything, simply brushing his flat fingers in light circles over your swollen clit. And that was enough. Fear flooded your insides alongside the same frantic, hot rush of pleasure. All of your muscles contracted in a mass of sore, shaking muscles and bestial desperation because you were afraid he would stop again, afraid that he would deny you and there would be no recourse other than pathetic acceptance.

“Please, please, I-I love you,” you plead, your voice whispery, rough and desperate, borderline incoherent.

And he didn’t stop. 

That wet, hot snap of release was one of the best things you had ever felt. You convulsed, chains clicking and leather chafing against your skin and his name spilling from your lips over and over. He worked you right through the orgasm. You were crying again, sobbing and shaking and sticky hot. It felt good. It felt like forgiveness. 

“Another?” Suguru asked. Your eyes had been shut, but now they opened to see his smile.

You just shook your head, lacking the capacity to respond. 

He didn’t wait, pushing three fingers into you while teasing your clit with his other hand. It forced your body through a surprisingly uncomfortable rubbery mixture of overstimulation and mindless need. It left you feeling like an elastic band being stretched and stretched. In spite of that feeling, a few solid, harsh pumps later and you were coming again, your pussy squeezing his fingers to keep them there while he worked you through it. There was very little drama to it, you were already wrung out. But it was good. Hot and wet and good. 

Suguru didn’t stop. You fought the restraints, wanting to move, to writhe, to get more comfortable, to take some control back because you needed a moment to collect yourself. 

“I really-” It was hard to speak. Hard to form the words. Hard to get them out. “Oh God, I—ah.”

Almost painfully sensitive, the rough pounding of his fingers against your g-spot started to register as too much. You fought the restraints, a different sort of panic setting in. To keep your body from rejecting the pleasure of his touch, Suguru doubled down against your clit, pressing a little harder. You had been starving, but now you were splitting full from the assault pleasure. 

“Too—oo much,” you got out through your teeth, although it probably didn’t seem like it was too much when your back was arching accordingly, your pussy clamping down around his relentless fingers, that coiling buildup of release reaching its apex. 

Your mouth opened in a silent scream, your fingers and toes clawing helplessly at the sheets as you came, practically choking on the hot feverish intensity of your orgasm. 

“No, it’s not,” Suguru told you. His fingers slowed at least, and then pulled out. It wasn’t much of a reprieve, he immediately shuffled down the bed so he could situate his head back between your thighs. 

You hissed, tensing up, your arms jerking against the restraints. Your clit was too sensitive for his tongue, he had to understand that. “You… You don’t… Have to,” you got out, your voice unsteady from how hard you were panting. “I don’t need-” 

“Don’t worry,” Suguru said sweetly. “I’m not doing this for you.”

The wet, warm patterns he drew on your clit with his tongue sent you into a sort of delirium. No matter how sensitive you thought you were, it was intoxicatingly good. He focused entirely on what made your hips try to jump, what made you moan and whine. When he slipped two fingers into your pussy at the same time, you felt ready to lose it entirely. You were falling apart. Splitting at the seams. You came with a harsh cry, Weeping at the fizzling heat of pleasure. 

Suguru didn’t stop. He just hummed and flattened his tongue and kept going, forcing you right past that sickening few seconds of sensory rejection and towards another orgasm. You could do it. You focused on that because even if you weren’t entirely sure you wanted more, you wanted to be good for him. How ungrateful would it be to not come when he was kind enough to eat you out? 

Covered in the sickly shine of sweat and shaking so uncontrollably that it felt like the world itself was trembling, you came again.  

When he was content you were done, Suguru stopped, pulling his fingers out with a final brush against your g-spot to make you whine, your body mindlessly writhing. He sat up, brushing back strands of sweaty black hair with the back of his hand. 

You wilted in place, closing your eyes to focus on your breathing while he messed with something else. It was hard to collect yourself, but you could already tell that you would be sore tomorrow. 

Hearing the shift of fabric, you opened your eyes to see Suguru remove his boxers. Despite your messily deteriorated state, the sight of his cock roused enough of your mind to focus. He was hard, the red-flushed head bobbed as he casually stroked himself which might have been for your benefit. Despite the sensory overload, your pussy tightened in anticipation of feeling him inside of you. If he fucked you and you did good enough to make him come, then you would be done. That was, at the very least, an end goal. One more thing you could endure for him, and then he would forgive you. 

Suguru looked down at you with a fond smile, an expression that seemed more than a little cruel when he was stroking his dick, when he knew fully well that you were painfully oversensitive and this would make it that much worse. 

“Should I make you beg?” he asked warmly, tapping the head against your painfully sensitive folds. You whimpered, squirming. You weren’t entirely sure you wanted this, and he probably knew that, but maybe that was the point. It didn’t matter, you wanted him, you wanted to be good for him, and that superseded every other thing you felt. 

“Please, Geto-sama,” you begged, defaulting to the formal address because you needed him to accept it, because he was your lord and master in every way except by name, because you adored him and worshiped him, and you needed him to understand that. “Fuck me, please. I’m yours.”

“So vulgar,” he said, sliding his cock up and down through the wet, sloppy mess he’d made of your pussy. “I wonder what happened to the sweet, innocent girl you used to be.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, shaking your head. “Please.”

“I’m kidding,” Suguru told you, bracing one hand on your thigh to force your hips to curl while lining up his cock. “Aren’t you going to beg?”

“Please-”

“No, no. Look at me.”

You forced your eyes open, forced yourself to look up at him through tear-covered lashes. “Please, Geto-sama. Please, I’m yours.” 

It was nothing for him to push in. You were wet and eager and it felt good. The feeling of his cock popping past the initial barrier of muscle and driving deeper into your pussy was one of the most uniquely pleasurable sensations you had ever felt, no matter what the context. It gave you the sort of fullness nothing could replicate, physically grounded you in a way nothing else ever had. 

Since you were watching, you got to see his expression slacken into one of pleasure. Your pussy fluttered and squeezed, just making room for him. 

You gave up keeping your eyes open as he drove himself even deeper, throwing your head back to just take it, to ignore the discomfort of his cock grinding against what felt like raw nerves. Suguru braced his hands on your thighs as he rocked his hips, taking his time. 

“What does it feel like?” he asked. 

“Good,” you said quickly, your tongue feeling loose like you were drunk. “So… So good.” 

“I want to feel you come again,” he said. “You don’t mind, right?” 

Your eyes fluttered open in confusion, shutting when he suddenly snapped his hips forward. “I can’t,” you whined. “Not again.”  

“You can,” Suguru told you, grinding his cock as far into as he could, pressing as deep as possible, deep enough to make you whimper and writhe. Could he feel that? Could he feel the way you were shaking all the way down to your bones, feel the way your heart raced and fluttered and skipped? 

And then you heard it turn on. When you heard the buzzing, your brain was wildly scattered enough that you thought it was an electric toothbrush which made no sense whatsoever. When he pressed the vibrator directly to your clit, you yelped, trying to buck it off but only serving to grind yourself into his cock. 

A few little circles with the thing against your clit was all it took for you to choke, your body seizing up with another orgasm. You were acutely aware of the way it caused your cunt to squeeze and suck his cock, coating it in a fresh wave of arousal as he pulled out, making a horrible wet slap when he thrust back in. 

Suguru groaned, keeping the vibrator directly on your clit as he chose a slow, steady pace. 

“I can’t,” you tried to tell him, squirming and writhing with renewed vigor as your body started to tense up to come again. You couldn’t stop it and of course it felt good but it was too much, almost burning. You could handle it. If you came again it would hurt, especially coming with his cock grinding so persistently into your overly sensitive cunt. 

“I thought you were being good,” Suguru said, rewarding you with a heavy, harsh thrust that made you wail. And another. That sent you over the edge, whimpering and shaking and incoherent with the overwhelming influx of heat and tingling overstimulation. Like the brittle snap when breaking a glow stick, or taking a crisp, juicy bite of an apple. It should have been good, but all you could feel was the wet, helpless violation of something ruined. 

Suguru moaned openly, driving himself deep enough for his hips to slap your ass with each heavy thrust. Your head whipped from side to side, the only form of protest left to you. He kept moving the vibrator to make sure you didn’t get too accustomed to any one type of stimulation. It was torture. Horrible torture. You wouldn’t have thought coming could be so agonizing, and yet when you drew up for another sharp, shuddery orgasm you couldn’t recognize it as anything else. 

“Is this better or worse than before?” Suguru asked, his words stuttered with each hard thrust. 

“I don’t… I can’t…” You couldn’t think. You couldn’t breathe. You couldn’t do anything except convulse and cry and come. Again. 

You didn’t understand. 

“You don’t know?” he asked, breathy yet amused. “You’ll have to—to tell me later.” 

The problem was that you had no place to think. You were too full. Suguru continued fucking you hard and steady. All you could hear was the slick slapping of wet skin and that infernal buzzing. There was so much weight behind every movement, like he was trying to batter his way into your womb. Each thrust was followed by a whimper or moan or cry. And the relentless vibrator against your clit. It hurt. It burned. 

“I don’t… don’t…” 

“You’re… not done,” Suguru told you, his voice heavy and breaking with exertion. “Come again.” 

You weren’t sure if you were actually crying anymore, or just sobbing and panting and so sweaty it felt like you were crying. You couldn't form any coherent words, or even incoherent rejections. So you obeyed, the taste of blood on your tongue and stars dotting your vision, your pussy burning and inner walls pulsing around his cock as you came again. Suguru groaned, his lovely lips parted and eyes closed. 

“One more,” he demanded. “Just… Just one… More.” That word was punctuated with a hard thrust and an especially cruel grind of the vibrator against your overstimulated clit. There was no point in saying no, or even believing it wasn’t possible. He knew more than you did. You didn’t know anything. 

With a miserable whine, you came again, although at this point it felt like there was just a long, helpless flow of overstimulation marked with waves of overbearing heat, and then your pussy tightened around his cock and it dragged cruelly against your g-spot, and that was all you could manage before you were tossed back into the mindless daze of agonizing excess.

“Even though it hurts, you’re…” He didn’t finish that breathless thought, although his amused smile went away when his hips suddenly stuttered and he fell forward, his forearm resting by your shoulder. 

Mercifully, Suguru shut the vibrator off, letting it fall somewhere to the side, bracing his other arm on the bed next to you as he sought his own end. Your arms and legs fell to the side, slack except for when your muscles spasmed or jerked. Every thrust added to the relentless cycle of too much, especially from this angle, you could feel the way your body worked itself up to come again, responding to his pleasure as if it were your own. 

“Geto-sama… Suguru please,” you begged and there was a chance he couldn’t make out that you were attempting to form actual words, but even with your sanity fraying at the edges from his torture, you wanted him to come. You wanted to know there was a reason for your complete unraveling, that you had a real, good purpose, some sort of justification to exist. 

Suguru forced your knees all the way up to your chest, pushing his cock as deep as possible as he came, working himself through it with shallow thrusts and these intoxicatingly sexy stuttered moans. Distantly, beyond the hellish, sweaty shell of your shaking body, you had the distinct thought that everything was worth it just to hear him moan like that. Just to be rewarded by his pleasure. Because you loved him. Because you belonged to him. Both of you were flushed hot and disturbingly slick with sweat and it hurt for him to be pushing so deep. Out of all the little cruelties he had subjected you to, the fact that you were unable to hold onto him like you wanted was one of the worst. 

When Suguru pulled out, that hurt too. Every part of your body hurt. He left you to fall bonelessly limp onto the bed, rolling around to lay next to you. 

In the relative quiet, your ears rang with a tinny discordance, paired with the engine roar of rushing blood. Your tongue was sandpaper in your mouth—little wonder, you had no idea how you had any liquid left in your body—and your limbs hurt from being stuck in the bound position for so long, but you couldn’t say you wanted to do anything to fix those things. As soon as the severity of those discomforts occurred to you, so were they carried away by the lapping tide of exhaustion. You felt like a sponge that had been squeezed dry. That’s probably what you looked like too.   

“I didn’t expect it to be so… Difficult to contain myself,” Suguru mused softly. You didn’t respond, marveling at his voice. It was very nice. So soothing and smooth. Perfect, just like every other part of him. “It’s wrong, but necessary. You never learned the right way to live, I have to guide you. Otherwise you could hurt yourself. You could hurt our family.” There was more conviction in those words, like he was trying to argue against a point you hadn’t made. 

Even if you were to be unbound, you wouldn’t dare close your legs. You couldn’t feel his cum slipping out, maybe you were too swollen. That would explain the painful heat. 

“I wish I didn’t have to make my point like this,” Suguru continued. “But I'll do whatever it takes for you to get it.” 

Mute confusion was the only thing you had left—you were barely aware enough to listen to what he was saying, let alone divine any meaning from the words. Your body hurt and you were thirsty and sweaty and tired. You didn’t think anything. You couldn’t do anything. You couldn’t say anything. It wasn’t even confusion, it was just pure exhaustion. 

“Ah, you’re a mess,” Suguru said, sitting up. You groaned in disapproval when he started messing with the straps around your thighs, taking them off. Without the harness's support, your legs dropped limp onto the bed. Still, you didn’t move. You couldn’t fathom moving. “Hey,” he chided, “don’t go to sleep.”

You grunted unhappily. 

“Will you open your eyes?” Suguru asked, touching your fever-hot cheek. After a second, you did, meeting his gaze with your own dazed, blank stare. His expression was tender, you thought. So kind, so sweet, so gentle. “I need you to listen to me now, hm?” 

You made a sound to show that you were listening, looking up at his beautiful face with a marveling sort of adoration. Suguru really was beautiful. It was little wonder so many people thought he was a holy man. He undid the chains keeping your hands and ankles connected, letting your arms flop lifelessly into the sweaty sheets.

“I forgive you,” Suguru told you, his eyes scanning your body slowly, taking in the sweat and the reddish flush and the twitching, trembling of your muscles with some kind of affection. “But, and I need you to remember this,” he continued, his eyes returned to yours, “next time you disobey me, it will be worse.”

Worse? You couldn’t imagine worse. The idea of worse made your eyes sting, panic threatening to crawl back out of the abyss of your exhaustion to send you into a fit of tears.

You blinked and swallowed against your dry throat. “I’ll be… be good, I promise,” you said in a voice that was little more than a hoarse croak. 

“Shhh,” Suguru shushed softly, brushing your damp hair off of your sweaty forehead. “Don’t be scared. Everything I do, I do because I love you. You are precious to me, you know that, don’t you?”

Those words worked like ether sweet anesthesia through your head and you believed him, loved him, trusted him. He did this because he loved you, and because you needed to learn. Of course. That made sense even if nothing else did. 

[five-bi-five-mind]

Hey hey, coming in with a Natasha request, one where they head on over to Nat’s fam for the weekend. As they’re having a nice time, ofc reader can’t resist & flaunt over her gf and they have a quickie in the bathroom, thanks ;) 💕 oh and I’m claiming this heh -> 🌻 anon

Meeting the Family

Fandom: Marvel

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Words: 4.8k+

Genre: Smut & Fluff

Summary: Nat can't resist how cute and nervous you are as you introduce to her to your parents and show her where you grew up. When you're finally alone, she just can't keep her hands off you anymore...

Warnings: fingering (r receiving); degradation kink; name calling; bathroom sex; top!Nat, bottom!r; finger sucking

A/N: Finally I do a Nat fic! And more fics are to come now that finals are over.

(gif not mine, credit to the creator mentioned above!)

It was finally happening. You and Natasha had been dating for over eight months now and it was finally the time. Your parents had heard everything about her over the phone and she had heard all about them. Of course, it was only natural for each of them to want to meet the other. So, when Nat had a long weekend available, she came up with the brilliant– or in your opinion, a somewhat terrifying idea to drive three hours so she can meet your family. And your parents, being the nosy and also hospitable parents that they were, eagerly agreed. 

The three hour drive felt like it went by way too fast for your liking. Usually, you hate the drive to visit your parents; never being one who enjoys long car rides. However, on this particular trip, you wanted time to slow down. You were so nervous for the three of them to meet. It wasn’t that you weren’t ready for it to happen– In a way you definitely were. You knew how serious your feelings for Nat were and how hers were mutual. It wasn’t that you felt rushed, it was just a first for you. Throughout highschool and college you successfully avoided bringing partners home for your parents to meet. To be fair, none of them were very serious until Nat, but even on the few occasions that your relationships lasted more than three or four months, you still refused to bring them around to meet your parents. 

Natasha was different though. You were very aware that this needed to happen at some point, especially when you and Nat already expressed how deeply in love you both were. She was pretty convinced you two would get married at some point in the near future. Perhaps that thought would’ve terrified you if it were anyone else, but when she said it, it just sounded right. So then naturally she needed to meet your parents before any of that could happen. Preferably before the inevitable day you two move in together and you’re wearing an engagement ring.

When you knew your parents’ house was a mere ten minutes away, you could feel your whole body jitter with nerves. It wasn’t that your parents were difficult or that you were worried about Nat’s behavior. It’s just that you didn’t know how to act in this situation. Plus, throughout the years, your parents could be a bit particular about certain things when it came to their children. 

Nat, on the other hand, was just exhibiting pure excitement. As she drove with the guidance of the GPS, she kept her eyes glued to the road with a soft smile on her face the whole time. When the two of you were approaching the house, her smile only grew as your nerves only worsened.

Her eyes took in every single sight as she drove through your hometown and all the way up to your family’s driveway. She looked at the house with appreciation, mentioning how she liked the colors and the nicely kept garden your parents had. You just kept replying with quiet mhms and nods as she kept talking. Her eyes flicked to you once and she knew you were internally freaking out. She could practically feel your anxiety radiate off of you throughout the whole car ride. 

It was very clear that you were in no hurry to leave the car when she finally parked right in front of your parents’ house. Natasha took initiative when she turned the car off and hopped out and over to your side to get the door for you. Ever the caring and considerate girlfriend that she was, she immediately offered you a hand and, even if you didn’t need help, she carefully helped you to your feet. 

Her arms remained around you as you took a few deep breaths. “We got this,” you breathed. “You have nothing to be worried about.”

“I’m not worried,” Natasha let out a soft laugh, her hand reaching up to press against your cheek. “You shouldn’t be so nervous either.”

“I know, I know,” you sighed, taking a step back from Natasha’s touch. “It’s just that I’ve never taken anyone to meet my whole family before.”

“And what? You’re afraid they won’t like me?”

“No, no it’s not exactly that.” Your eyes fell to your feet, kicking at a little rock on the driveway as you tried to shove your nerves down. “They’re just protective and a little bit paranoid about things.”

“Paranoid?” Nat cocked her head and looked at you with genuine curiosity. 

“Yeah,” you gave Nat an apologetic smile. “You know, that anyone I date is just dating me for the wrong reasons. Kind of… I guess, old school.”

“But they’re okay that you’re bringing home another woman?” Nat crossed her arms over her chest and you could tell she was getting slightly defensive. “Oh gosh, it’s not that!” You immediately corrected.”They’re fine with that part.”

“So…” Nat was wracking her brain trying to figure out what you meant. “Are they worried I’ll… I don’t know– corrupt you?”

“Yes, yeah!” Even though that ship sailed a long time ago, especially with Nat, your parents really didn’t need to know that. You were fine with them being blissfully ignorant, thinking their little girl is still, well, their perfectly untouched little girl. 

“Don’t worry,” Nat smirked. “I can keep my hands to myself at the dinner table.” She gave you a wink and reached for you again. For a moment, she wrapped her arms around your whole body. Both hands landed right on your ass for a brief, tight squeeze before she stepped back, turned around, walked on ahead towards the door. You didn’t really love the way she emphasized at the dinner table but you were too distracted by the way your ass now stung from her hand.

“Nat!” You practically shrieked. She just laughed in response and you scurried along behind her. This was sure to be a long and nerve-wracking dinner. 

—-------------------

You were so incredibly wrong about the dinner. Your parents welcomed Nat with open arms. It was tense for about two minutes, but then she cracked the biggest dad joke and suddenly your own father was sold on her. Then when you watched as Nat bounced around the kitchen and dining room, helping your mother out with anything that needed to be taken care of to get ready for dinner, you realized she was sold too. Honestly, Nat did way more to help cook for dinner than you ever did when you lived at home. You weren’t one to cook, but Nat knew a thing or two and she wasn’t afraid to show it when your parents were putting the final touches on the meal.

When you all sat down for dinner, your anxiety was still running high, but everyone else seemed so relaxed. Both of your parents were impressed with Natasha and the stories she told. Although, you knew she was leaving out some major, violent details and also probably skipping over parts that she probably legally couldn’t share. Still, your parents were interested in every word. And of course, Nat being Nat, she had to poke around for embarrassing stories they could tell about your childhood. Unfortunately, they delivered. She laughed with them when they told about the time you got stuck in a tree and the month where you refused to wear anything other than a Princess Peach costume, even to school. When your face flushed, the three of them joined in with light teasing. You’d be a little angry if it wasn’t for Nat’s comforting hand squeezing your knee as she laughed or the bright smile she flashed at you when she learned more and more new little facts about you. Sure, you were a little embarrassed, but it just meant she owed you an awkward story or two for later. 

As dinner wrapped up, you began to clean up. It was always your thing when you lived with your parents. Since you couldn’t cook, you’d clean, but Nat was quick to swoop up the dishes in your hands and help. You didn’t miss the way your parents’ eyes shined with approval as they watched the care and kindness Natasha showed you and the gratitude she showed them for letting the both of you stay for the weekend. On multiple occasions during the dinner, Nat would complement their home and thank them for having the both of you. She remained incredibly respectful and relaxed at the same time. Nothing felt forced, nothing felt tense. It was as if they had known her for years. 

When you were both in the kitchen cleaning up, you finally realized most of your anxiety had dissipated. Natasha was by the sink, smiling to herself as she cleaned dishes and you were sharing that same smile as you dried and put away the things she handed to you. Both of your parents hovered around the kitchen; your mother constantly thanking Natasha and insisting she was the guest and it should just be you and your parents taking care of everything. Natasha would just chuckle and promise that she was more than happy to clean up. After all, it was her way of showing how much she appreciated the meal and the hospitality. 

After the dining room and kitchen were cleaned up, your parents insisted on you showing her the entire house. She had only seen a few rooms so far and didn’t even have much time to check out your childhood bedroom. That was partially on purpose on your part. You knew she’d see it soon, but you were nervous so you thought pushing that moment off would be better. In some ways it worked since you were no longer as anxious, but you still sat with some of that anxiety throughout dinner. 

Now, however, you were trying to be the best tour guide you could be as you took her all across the house. You even stepped out on the back porch with her to show her the rest of your parents’ garden. She wore this enchanting smile the whole time you showed her around. Her eyes would flick to certain things and she’d give you an “mhm” or an “oh really?” but for the most part, her attention was glued to you. As you stood outside and pointed out all the flowers that your family was growing, Nat was quick to come behind you and wrap her arms around your waist. 

When her lips pressed against your neck as you looked out over the small garden, you couldn’t help the small shiver that her action caused. You wondered if she noticed that reaction, but when you felt her arms tighten on your waist almost immediately, causing your body to press harder into hers, that was a clear enough indication that she had. But even if she did, she didn’t continue to kiss your neck, instead she rested her chin on your shoulder. With your cheek pressed against hers as she rested on you, you both let out a content sigh as you watched the sun go down over your family’s garden. It was a perfect moment. Even if you had the slightest suspicion Nat had things less innocent on her mind, she had proved you wrong by the calm and gentle moment you two were sharing. 

After a few moments of just appreciating each other’s presence, it was back to the house tour. This time, you were on to the second floor of the house and getting closer and closer to your bedroom. You figured you’d save that for last as you dragged Nat around, showing her your parents offices and explaining what they both did for work. Nat kept nodding along, pretending to look thoughtfully around the room before letting her eyes wander back to you. As you pulled her even closer to your room, you decided to stall just a little bit more. When she stepped in, you practically dragged her to the connected bathroom. Anything to postpone to the acknowledgement of your large teddy bear collection and the awkward highschool photos decorating the walls.

“And this…” You said as you pushed her further into the bathroom, “is my bathroom. So if you need anything, medicine, a shower, or whatever. At least we don’t have to share it with my parents.” 

“Mhm,” Nat looked around at the soft pink decor of your bathroom. Her eyebrow arching as she took in all the pastel colors. In your teens and all the way up to your very early 20s, you had an obsession with pastels. It definitely wasn’t Nat’s vibe. As she kept looking around the bathroom, you wondered how much she disliked it. You couldn’t imagine her reaction when she finally got a good look at your room and realized the pastel pinks, yellows, and blues didn’t just stop at the bathroom. 

“And your parents' room is all the way on the other side of the house?” She turned around and asked you. 

“Um, yeah. Well, on the same floor, but still the other side.” You were looking at her with curiosity now. She was starting to reach around you towards the door. Her body was fully pressed to yours as her hand made contact with the doorknob. 

“Good,” she mumbled more to herself than to you as you heard the door shut behind you. Nat’s other hand was around your waist now and you just kept searching her face for an indication of what she was planning. But the moment she leaned in for a kiss, things clicked. This was not like the innocent, quick kiss you shared on the porch a few minutes ago. It was slow, but there was heat behind it. Hunger even. 

For a second you gave in to the kiss. Your body melted into Nat’s as the hand she used to close the door came up to tangle in your hair. The way her tongue felt as it ran against your lips so gently was almost enough to make you lose yourself. But then, as your hand reached out to steady itself on the bathroom counter, you remembered where you were. 

“Nat,” you tried to pull away from the kiss. “We’re not going to fuck in my childhood bathroom.” Maybe that was a bit presumptuous, but you knew Nat and you could tell quite quickly what kind of mood she was in when she kissed you like that. Plus, her hand started wandering down towards your ass and that’s usually a pretty good hint at where she hoped things would head. 

“Why not?” You immediately saw the pout on Nat’s face. “We’re going to fuck in your childhood bedroom tonight, so what’s the difference?”

“Oh we are?” You pushed back from Nat slightly, enough to untangle yourself from her at least a little bit. Nat still was in your personal space though. 

Nat arched her eyebrow and gave you the look she often gave you when she was not buying the excuses you were saying. “Come on,” She chuckled. “We both know how you get.”

“How I get?” You huffed as you turned away from her. She had got your shirt all out of sorts just from being pressed against you. Your eyes were focused on fixing yourself so your parents had no suspicions that you were just making out with your girlfriend in your bathroom. Nat’s were focused on you too, but for entirely different reasons. 

“Mhm,” Nat smirked at you from behind. “How you get.” Her hands came to rest on either side of you, effectively pinning you to the counter. Her body pressed up against you, but still you tried to keep a poker face.

“And exactly how,” you kept your eyes glued to your own appearance in the mirror, trying your best to ignore Nat’s intense gaze, “do I get?” 

Her hand moved up your neck until it reached your chin. She cupped it in one hand and tugged your face until you were looking straight ahead to lock eyes with her in the mirror. “You become a needy little slut, begging for me to fuck you.” 

Your face instantly flushed and all words of protest you were thinking of throwing her way died at the tip of your tongue. You looked at her with wide eyes, as if you were a deer in headlights and she looked back at you with hooded eyes. She wasn’t wrong. She absolutely was not wrong. But who could blame you? Anytime Natasha slid into bed next to you, her strong arms pulling you into her, it just got you going… Just thinking about it made you squeeze your thighs together. Fuck, you were already wet. Hopefully, Nat didn’t notice the slight movement.

But of course, she absolutely did. A crooked smirk spread across her face and her hand tightened its grip on your chin. “That’s what I thought.” Her voice was low as it whispered in your ear. “Now, are you going to let me fuck you like we both know you want?” 

You didn’t say anything. All you could do was bite your lip and nod shyly as Natasha’s other hand made its way up the front of your shirt. 

“That’s my good girl,” Nat purred in your ear as her hand made its way under your bra. She cupped your breast in her hand and gave a squeeze, causing you to instantly grip the bathroom counter. 

“I’ve barely touched you and you already look like you’re struggling,” she teased.  

“Shut up,” you shot back. You tried to make it sound demanding, but really it fell from your lips like a pathetic whine the minute you felt her roll your nipple between her fingers.

“That’s not a very nice thing to say to your guest,” her body pressed harder against yours as she spoke, “now is it?” Suddenly, you realized you were practically bent forward, trying your best to hold yourself up on the bathroom counter. 

Nat’s other hand was making its way down your body to the front of your jeans. When you heard your zipper being tugged down, you couldn’t help but gulp. How are you going to manage to be quiet when you were already so worked up just by the way she was handling you? You felt like you should be more concerned about that, especially with your parents downstairs. But as you felt Nat’s hand go straight into your panties, any concerns you had went right out the window. 

Her fingers brushed against your clit and you couldn’t help the full body shudder that she definitely noticed. A chuckle came from behind you and when your eyes flicked up to meet hers in the mirror you realized she was enjoying every single second of your internal struggle with control. The thing is, you already are too far gone to stop her from having her way with you and, honestly, you don’t really give a fuck. 

When her fingers began to move against your clit your eyes fluttered closed and you couldn’t help the slight twitch of your hips. As her fingers kept moving you couldn’t even stop the ever-so-slight rock of your body against her hand. You didn’t need to look back at her to know that her eyes were trained on your slightest reaction. Even if your eyes were now squeezed shut as she picked up the pace against your clit, you could feel her gaze locked on you. 

Your hands were grabbing harder at the bathroom counter now. Her body kept pressing harder and harder against you as her fingers circled your clit faster. At this point, you were biting at your lip pretty hard, trying to keep whatever sounds were threatening to come out at bay. It was a struggle though. Nat was now starting to tease you, moving her fingers from your clit to circle your entrance. You wanted nothing more to feel them fill you.

What you didn’t realize was, as you tried to move yourself lower to take in her fingers, you let out a pathetically loud whine. “Shh, shh, shh” she teased as her fingers kept moving away from where you wanted them most. “If you’re so worried about your parents finding out, you might not want to make so much noise.” 

She didn’t seem at all concerned about the sounds you could make and what your parents could hear as she kept teasing you. Her tone was way too teasing and sarcastic for your liking, yet it still turned you on even more. Your eyes opened again and you met her with a frustrated look. One of which, she just chuckled at again as her other hand went back to palming at your nipples. Finally, after one more satisfied look at the way your body was bent over the counter with hers pressed against your ass, she leaned down to press a kiss to the back of your neck before sliding two fingers in. 

With a low groan you took her fingers in, instantly feeling them hit the spot that she knew you loved. You took a deep breath as she pushed them up to her knuckles inside you, trying to adjust to the feeling of your pussy being filled before she began to move. Something told you she was going to make it as hard as possible for you to stay quiet, which meant she wasn’t going to be very gentle. Not that you didn’t love it. When she was rough it drove you wild. 

Her fingers slid out almost completely and there was a pause as her eyes flicked to your face. Your cheeks were flushed and your mouth was already slightly open, letting out small whines and sighs. Then, without warning, she pushed her fingers back in with so much force you were pushed even further over the bathroom counter. 

“Oh fuck!” You couldn’t stop yourself from crying out as she set a brutal pace, pumping her fingers in harder and harder. You felt her whole body rock against you from behind and your head was now falling forward as you did your best to brace yourself against the sink. 

Nat’s hand left from under your shirt and up to your lips. She pressed against them with slight pressure and you instantly knew what she wanted. Opening your mouth for them to slip in, she groaned as she felt your tongue run against them. “Suck,” she growled from behind as her fingers kept pumping into you. You instantly obeyed, moaning around the fingers now filling your mouth. 

“Look at you,” Natasha taunted. “Letting me fuck you like this while your family is just downstairs.” She gave a particular hard pump of her fingers.

“Mmphf!” You let out a muffled moan around the two fingers that remained in your mouth. 

“You’re such a dirty girl,” she said with a sadistic grin. “Letting me fill your mouth and your pussy. God, I love it.” 

Her fingers curled inside you and all you could do was tighten your grip on the counter and keep sucking on her fingers. The way she was fucking you and the words she was whispering in your ear from behind were getting to you. Your legs shook as she kept pumping into you.

Finally, she removed her fingers from your mouth and your head immediately fell. You were panting at this point as she fucked her fingers in and out of you with a strength that had you struggling to stay upright. 

The fingers that were once in your mouth moved under your chin and pushed your head to look back up. “Don’t look away,” Nat ordered. “I want you to watch yourself as I fuck you.” Your eyes moved to hers first and you realized they were glued to the way her fingers were currently pumping in and out of you. Then you took a peek at your own reflection and took in the sight before you. You looked utterly ruined by her. Your face was flushed, your lips were slightly swollen from the way she had kissed you, and your hair was badly disheveled now. On top of that, now that your pants and panties had fallen down to your ankles, when you looked back down at the way Nat’s fingers were fucking you, you could see the glisten of your own wetness on your thighs and even dripping down her wrist. Yeah, it was going to take a minute to get cleaned up from this. But when Natasha pushed in a third finger all worries about that left your mind and you were now just focused on staying quiet. You were failing miserably.

“Shhh,” Natash cooed. “You don’t want your family to find out what you’re doing, do you?” 

You shook your head, but your mouth hung open as you shook from the sheer pleasure of it all. Her fingers were stretching you deliciously and you were getting closer and closer to that edge. Being quiet was not an easy thing to do. 

Nat’s hand flew to your mouth when she knew it was getting too hard for you. Her hand muffled the pitiful moans that were now freely falling from your lips as you got closer and closer to an orgasm. Despite the fact that you probably weren’t being as quiet as you should be, she kept going, knowing by how tight you were around her fingers that it was any minute now. After just a few more seconds she finally felt you cum, making a mess of her hand.

Her hand finally left your mouth when she felt your whole body slump forward onto the sink. She pulled her fingers out of you as slowly and gently as possible and all you could do was shiver as you felt them pull away. You were panting and gasping, trying to catch your breath. Nat put a loving hand on your back, rubbing it gently as she too tried to take a few deep breaths. She could’ve kept going and the urge to was incredibly strong. Seeing you bent over against the sink, your ass pressed against her as she fucked you made her want to keep going until you couldn’t stand. The only thing stopping her was that she thought maybe this wasn’t the setting to completely ruin the daughter of her gracious hosts. 

Instead, she gently urged you to turn around, only to capture your lips in a slow, yet still deep kiss. Her tongue immediately sought out yours and you whimpered against her lips, still wishing to feel her inside you again. But you also thought that maybe this wasn’t the best time to keep begging for your girlfriend to fuck you senseless. Definitely not at your parents place. 

When she broke the kiss, her forehead pressed against yours and you both seemed to calm down just a little bit. Your body still felt worked up and Natasha still had the strong urge to keep making you make those sounds she loved so much, but you both resisted. “Let’s get you cleaned up,” she whispered and you nodded in reply.

After a few minutes of more calming deep breathing and a few moments where you thought you might give in to the hungry looks Nat was still giving you, you both managed to get yourselves together. Your parents were probably curious to see how Nat was settling in and you definitely didn’t want them to suspect that your girlfriend just fucked you in the bathroom. 

One thing about this whole trip, you definitely won’t be looking at your childhood bathroom, or bedroom for what was to come later that night, the same way…

Taglist: @geekyandgay98 @desperate-gay @storiesofsvu @demonicbaby666 @high--power @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @natashamaximoff69 @natashasilverfox @lovelyy-moonlight @jareguiromanoff @dj-bynum3718 @noahrex @simpforlizzie @taivantaylor

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[baldval]

Could you do individual head cannons of Charlie, Vaggie, Angel Dust, Niffty, and Husk's responses to a female reader asking to play with their hair?

PLAYING W THEIR HAIR!₊˚⊹♡

characters: charlie, vaggie, angel dust, niffty, husk

warnings: any of these could be read as platonic or romantic!!

a/n: the headcanons constantly change between general headcanons to more story-like depending on the character??? i just did whatever i felt like doing sorry if that feels confusing

CHARLIE:

ᯓ charlie is a busy girl

ᯓ and with everything that's been going on at the hotel, she most definitely needs some rest

ᯓ so just imagine her at her desk

ᯓ there are papers everywhere, on the floor, around her, under her

ᯓ she thought she’d only rest her eyes for a moment

ᯓ you cannot help but run your fingers through her hair as you walk by, wanting to brush it away from her eyes

ᯓ it will tickle otherwise

ᯓ you don’t want to wake her

ᯓ you know she needs rest

ᯓ but how can you resist when she looks so beautiful, softly breathing in her peaceful slumber

ᯓ and so your body moves of its own accord

ᯓ she lets out a small moan, her eyes flickering open in quizzical confusion

ᯓ and you retract your hand, hoping she’ll go back to dozing if you can just walk away silently enough

ᯓ long, warm fingers instantly grab at you, guiding your hand back to the soft, silky locks on her head

ᯓ “don’t stop,” she murmurs with a blissful smile on her face as her eyes close once more

VAGGIE:

ᯓ you can't help it

ᯓ you love playing with vaggie's hair as much as she lets you

ᯓ which is often, because she secretly loves it

ᯓ even if she won't admit it, vaggie sometimes craves the feeling of your fingers running through her hair

ᯓ in her defense, you have gentle hands

ᯓ for you, it's because her hair is soft

ᯓ and all too "sweepable"

ᯓ and you often brush the strands away from her eyes

ᯓ especially during lazy moments lying in bed, or canoodled on the couch

ᯓ other times, you'll lay against her chest, letting the rise and fall of her breath move you

ᯓ and you'll unconsciously reach up to toy with the soft ends of her hair

ᯓ or she'll occasionally allow herself to lay in your lap while you have your way

ANGEL DUST:

ᯓ angel loves when you play with his hair

ᯓ it's amazing how he immediately leans into your touch

ᯓ without any doubt, he's at his most relaxed when he feels the gentle sweep of your fingers

ᯓ could be in his hair, massaging his head, stroking his face or his neck

ᯓ although there's something about your fingers combing through his hair that just makes him feel so... soft

ᯓ and you know he loves it

ᯓ it's gotten to the point where you do it almost absently, out of habit

ᯓ sometimes he even falls asleep at your ministrations

ᯓ but he's also very aware of your touch

ᯓ in general, he's all too self-aware when it comes to people touching him/drawing within his personal space

ᯓ could be a consequence of all the abuse he's gone through, though he doesn't acknowledge it

ᯓ you don't even realise this, but you're helping him just with your calming touch.

ᯓ it comforts both of you, if in different ways.

NIFFTY:

ᯓ niffty is the type of person who just LOVES her hair

ᯓ she keeps it always knotless and almost impossibly clean

ᯓ she won't really let anyone touch it in fear of seeing it messy

ᯓ however there are some exceptions

ᯓ one of them being you, of course

ᯓ one day you comment how good she would look with two pigtail braids

ᯓ she turns to look at you

ᯓ "why, thank you! i just... i don't really know how to braid my hair"

ᯓ and so you offer to braid it for her

ᯓ and she accepts

ᯓ and she LOVES it

ᯓ not only the final result but also the way her head feels as your fingers separate her hair and start combing through it

ᯓ so from now on, whenever niffty is feeling like it, she'll ask if you can braid her hair

ᯓ and you'll accept it

ᯓ and you'll both love it

HUSK:

ᯓ when you first realised how much husk loved when you played with his hair, you were surprised

ᯓ because he loves LOVES it

ᯓ so let’s say you’re sitting on a chair or couch or whatever and he’s chilling on the ground between your legs while you guys watch a movie or show

ᯓ and suddenly, just because it looks so fluffy, you reach out and comb your fingers through his hair

ᯓ first time you do it he tilts his head all the way back to look quizzically at you

ᯓ and you apologize but he’s like “no no no- do it again”

ᯓ and you do and he sighs happily and puts his head back down

ᯓ as you get more comfortable with it and roam your fingers across his scalp

ᯓ and gently scratch his scalp he nearly starts purring

ᯓ generally, his body oozes with pleasure

ᯓ i’m talkin shoulders slumping, muscles relaxing, he probably goes kinda dead-weight

ᯓ when he relaxes his neck his head kinda flops either to the side or backward

ᯓ so either into your lap or against your knee or thigh.

ᯓ he can be pretty vocal about it too

ᯓ like a heavy but content sigh, or really long hum, or praises

ᯓ and when you play with his hair just the right way it’s all of the above