#finally i wrote a fic for my husband

[sentientsky]

“Do you really think this is a good idea?” Nina asked. “The poor guy probably just wants his space.” 

The other woman turned to look at her from up on the staircase. Maggie pushed a lock of blonde hair back behind her ear. “I mean,” she began, one foot positioned on the next step up. “We already have this.” She raised a travel cup of espresso in the air. “And after all, I think he could use some cheering up. It’s been like two months, right?” 

Maggie sighed resignedly and followed her up the stairs. “Okay, if you say so…”

They walked for a couple moments before coming to a stop in front of an apartment. All the other doors on the floor were painted a pleasant blue, she noted. This one, however, was a deep, rich black. Of course. 

From underneath the door, the women could hear music, something familiar and with a steady beat. Maggie raised her hand and knocked. 

Still, the music played on. And still no one answered the door. 

“He’s obviously busy, Mags,” Nina muttered. It didn’t escape her notice that the other woman flushed pale pink at the sound of the nickname. Nina’s heart spasmed a bit in response, and she had to force herself to focus. 

“I just—let me try once more, and then—” Maggie knocked again. 

A beat. 

Nina was ready to ask if they could leave when the lock on the door clicked open of its own accord. Well, alrighty then. They exchanged a look, and then Nina pushed open the door. 

Immediately, the onslaught of angsty pop music poured through the threshold. Kelly Clarkson’s “Since U Been Gone,” Nina noted. She herself had played the same song more than once as a young adult, often in the throes of a breakup. 

The apartment itself was in complete disarray; papers and knickknacks strewn everywhere. Plants drooped sadly on the edges of the room. In the corner, a pile of CDs had been toppled over. Eccles cakes and half-chewed scones littered the floor. 

There, in the middle of the living room (which certainly looked lived in, Nina noted), Crowley was sat on the floor, legs all akimbo and arms thrown across the seat of a rather uncomfortable looking sofa. 

Maggie stiffened at the sight of him, holding the coffee cup between both hands now. The poor demon was dressed in boxer shorts and an ancient Queen t-shirt. His hair was bedraggled, brushing against his shoulders in loose scarlet waves. Juxtaposed to the devilishly cool “burnt out middle-aged rockstar” persona he embodied most  of the time, this new appearance came across as particularly disheveled. 

Nina hesitated, then took a step forward. The music still thrummed in her ears. “Crowley?” she asked, injecting as much kindness as she could into one little word. 

Head lolling, the demon looked up at the two women before him. For once, he wasn’t wearing his characteristic glasses. Maggie made a little sound of surprise at the sight of the demon’s golden snake eyes. They were a rich yellow—the same colour as Mr. Fell’s walls, Nina silently noted. It seemed Crowley hadn’t slept in a century, (did demons even need to sleep?) his undereyes tinged a pale purple. 

“Crowley?” Nina called out again. Maggie moved to stand beside her, leaning down closer to the demon’s level. 

Without warning, Crowley’s eyes began to flood with tears and he crumpled into himself. Oh. Oh no. They’d made it worse, they’d certainly made it worse. Nina had said that coming here was a bad idea. 

“That’s what Aziraphale used to call me!” he keened. His boxer shorts had ‘XO Gossip Girl’ emblazoned down the side. 

“I mean, that’s your na—” Nina began, but then reconsidered and dropped into a crouch to pat the demon’s shoulder, voice hushed and soothing. “There, there. I know. It’s going to be alright.” 

Maggie crouched beside her, and tried to offer Crowley the drink in her hand. He looked up for a moment, and there was a moment of recognition, his eyes scanning the takeaway cup. And then he burst into fresh tears once again. 

“That’s what I ordered the last—” he made a little hiccuping sound. “Ordered the last time he and I went to your café,” he wailed. The poor thing was inconsolable; Nina’s heart ached for him. In between ragged sobs, Crowley  extended his arm under the couch. There, it seemed, he had found a slightly droopy crepe that was…just shoved under the sofa. No plate, no nothing. Just crepe to floor. What the fuck. Don’t eat it, please don’t eat it, Nina chanted in her head. 

He ate it, of course, still crying. 

Kelly Clarkson finished singing, and the track switched. Now, a more upbeat tune rose through the apartment. 

It’s Britney, bitch. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever actually seen you eat anything—” Maggie began, reaching down to pick up a crumpled twinkie wrapper from the floor. And then, without warning, Crowley brought a napkin to his mouth and spat out a congealed mass of saliva and half-chewed dough. He sniffed pathetically and bundled it into a tight ball in his hand before tossing it somewhere across the room.

“Oh…” Maggie murmured, placing the wrapper back where she had found it. “Oh no.” 

Crowley looked up at the two of them with ragged eyes, glinting pale gold in the dim light of his flat. “Don’t even like the taste. But he likes ‘em, so…Who else is gonna eat’em, anyway? While he’s gone, you know? ‘S up to me” He sniffed again, wiping his nose with his sleeve. 

“Are you—” Maggie began, and her worried eyes flickered to Nina. “Are you drunk, Crow—Anthony? Have you been drinking?”

“And wha makes you think that?” he muttered. Nina cast her eyes around the room. Wine bottles littered the floor. The counters. One sat on the pedestal of a statue of an angel and a demon…were they supposed to be fighting, or…?? 

When she turned back to face him, he was drinking out of a curly straw. His cup read ‘MAMA NEEDS SOME WINE’. She sighed, and reached to ease it out of his hand. He pulled it out of her reach immediately, a disgruntled look clear across his face.

“Nooo, Az—Azira—a stupid angel gave this to me,” he all but hissed. “‘S vintage. 2004.”

The track changed again. Something slower, with a steady piano backing. 

My lover’s got humour.

She’s the giggle at a funeral…

At this, tears began to form afresh in the corners of the demon’s eyes. Nina stood up, looking for the source of the music. She’d had her fair share of sad music wallowing, but this was becoming unhealthy, surely. Over in the corner, a fairly recent sound system stood sentinel. She pressed ‘pause’ and ejected the disk. “What’s with this music?” she called across the room. 

In sloping handwriting, the CD read ‘bad bitches cry perpendicular to the floor’. Oookay then. 

“‘S a playlist I made. But everything I play in that godforsaken thing,” he motioned to the stereo system, “eventually turns into music by this one Irish fellow.” 

Nina wrinkled her brow in confusion. 

“Jus’ like the Bentley. But more straightforward, I suppose.” He took another sip from his drink, and the two women watched on as dark red liquid carried up through the loops of the straw.

“This isn’t healthy,” Maggie began. “I know it’s hard, and it’s okay to be sad. But we can try baby steps, right? D’you fancy coming down to the café with us? Maybe sit and talk for a bit? Get some natural light?” 

Crowley scrunched his nose and spat a piece of red hair out of his mouth. “M’ fine, really. Never been better. More independent, less—” he waved his free hand around vaguely, “mmgh…yeah, I got nothin’” He toasted them with his ridiculous white suburban mom cup. 

“You’re crying right now. And how long have you been wearing that shirt?” Nina asked. The thing looked lived in. By a family of possums. 

He looked down, squinting at wine stains that speckled the collar. “This is my best shirt.” He looked back up at them. “And ‘m fiiiine.” He reached one gangly arm across the length of the sofa and pulled out a pair of circular sunglasses. Putting them on, he peered up at Nina and Maggie. “See? Can’t even see the tears.” He smiled, but it looked more like a grimace. 

“Oh, hon. That’s not…” Maggie began.

“I don’t think that’s how that works,” Nina murmured. “Do you…” she looked around the room. Was that one of Mr. Fell’s sweaters hung over a chair? What had happened in that fucking bookshop? “Do you want to talk about it?” she finished. 

Three hours later, Nina realized her assistant’s shift was nearly finished. From what she understood, Mr. Fell had left (his husband? Boyfriend? Wife? Immortal life partner?) Crowley for a business promotion somewhere far away. Crowley, for his part, was perched on the edge of the couch, wrapped up in the angel’s sweater. He sniffled, and pressed on: 

“...And then it was 1967 and I was in my Beatles phase of course, because who wasn’t, honestly. And the bastard shows up in my car out of nowhere with a thermos. So I’m freaking out a little bit—in a very cool, suave kind of way, of course—cause this is one of the first times we’ve seen each other since the magic show,” he turned, looking between Maggie and Nina. “I told you about the magic show, yes?”

“Yes, you did,” Maggie muttered. 

“Several times. The one where he told you to shoot him in the face,” Nina interjected.

“Well,” he waved his hand around. “I didn’t actually shoot him. Scared the fuck outta me, but—oh, I still have the photograph, you wanna see?” He moved to stand up then. 

Maggie motioned for him to sit back down. “That’s alright. We’ll see it later—”

And he was off again, “So anyway it was 1967 and he’s in my car and he’s got a thermos and I’m all like ‘Are we gonna drink soup together? Is that tea? Cocoa?’ but noooo, he gives it to me and it’s fucking holy water. And he tells me he doesn’t want me risking myself. And—” his voice grew louder, more emphatic, “And he says ‘don’t go unscrewing the cap’. And by this point my stomach’s all in wobbly-wibbly fluttery knots and ‘m asking myself ‘what the bloody hell are we’ and I hate it ‘cause I’m a demon, right? And angels aren’t supposed to make you feel all—” he made a ‘pbttt’ sound and mimed a butterfly with his hands. Nina and Maggie exchanged a look. “Yeah. And then he says we should go on a picnic someday. Or to the Ritz or something. I’m losing my mind at this point, because is he asking me on a date? ‘M I out of my gourd? So, like any normal, reasonable person, I say I’ll drive him wherever he wants because then that means more time together which means more time to figure out this fluttery feeling or whatever. And guess what he says.” He looked at the two women seated on chairs in front of him.  “Go on, guess.” 

Maggie shrugged. “Sorry, no idea.” Nina shook her head.

“He says,” he leant forward on the couch. “He says ‘You go too fast for me, Crowley.” The poor demon let out an anguished groan and his head fell into his hands. Maggie reached forward to pat him on the shoulder. 

[It went on like this for some time. They eventually got him to go to the park where he inadvertently began a duck cult; that is, a cult whose members consisted solely of ducks. Not a cult of humans dedicated to worshipping ducks. That would be stupid.]

this silly little crack fic is brought to you by me and my good omens brainrot (neil im in your walls). if u want to read my more serious stuff, you can find me furiously scribbling away in this corner of the internet: x

(side note: this particular story was inspired by a hilarious post from @miss-americanbi)

[froggyliciouz]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Anathema Device/Newton Pulsifer Characters: Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley (Good Omens), Anathema Device, Newton Pulsifer Additional Tags: Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Mutual Pining, Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens), Fluff, Light Angst, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Married Anathema Device/Newton Pulsifer, Aziraphale is "just enough of a bastard to be worth knowing" (Good Omens), He/Him Pronouns For Aziraphale (Good Omens), He/Him Pronouns For Crowley (Good Omens), Pining, Dancing, Slow Dancing, Ballroom Dancing, Wedding Fluff, Post-Canon, Post-Season/Series 02, Bickering, Aziraphale is a Little Shit (Good Omens), talking while dancing, theyre not talking (but they are), they aren't talking, Idiots in Love, Touch-Starved, Awkward Flirting, Romance, Humor, Fluff and Humor, Awkward Conversations Summary:

It was truly a shame the world was coming to an end within the next few days. Here they were, at Anathema’s and Newt's wedding.

Being blessed with a wit you could almost consider a curse Anathema immediately figured out what was going on between Aziraphale and Crowley. They weren’t talking. Or rather they were, but it was more passive-aggressive bickering than actual conversation. And Anathema wasn’t having it.

Any normal person wouldn’t even consider inviting two - to a skilled eye very obviously - ethereal and occult beings to their wedding, but Newt, a neither normal nor in any way or form skilled being, thought otherwise. So the wife-to-be made a compromise. Not with her partner, she didn’t care too much about whether two more guests were attending or not, but with said guests. No fighting, no arguing, annoyed bickering being turned down to a minimum.

Or: Even when pissed at each other they can't help but be in love. They dance for a second time and Crowley (more or less) gets his awning moment.

[tender-rosiey]

hii, hope im not bothering uu!!

my brain is obsessed with ur daddy gojo ficsss!! 🤭🤭 just a thought though. what if gojo brought his kid to work since reader couldnt hire a babysitter and had work to do!! 😱😱 kid can be a baby or like, 7-10?? or something? (idrc i jus need to feed my head with more dad gojo fics 😔😔, kid can be a girl or boy!!) hopee u have a nice dayyy!! ❤❤

missing – gojo satoru x f!reader

a/n: I wrote the kid being around 5 or 6 max, I think?? hope you like this as well! <3

you are standing at the door, checking over everything with your husband, "satoru, you got the toys?"

like the proud and confident dad he is, he replies with ease, "yep."

"the snacks?"

“of course,” he grins, pulling up the bag of snacks and toys to show you.

but you’re still stressing, "what about—“

"wifey, relax!” he starts rubbing your shoulders soothingly; “I got everything she needs. you have nothing to worry about,” he presses a loud kiss to your cheek.

"last time you said that, you teleported with d/n to the maldives."

he laughs loudly, before pulling you into a big hug, "aww, babe; I said I am sorry,” he is swaying the both of you, “you know I wanted you to be with us."

"that's not the point!"

"oh wowie, look at the time!” he looks at his fake watch and starts gently pushing you towards the car, “you’re gonna be late sweetheart."

"oh god!" you gasp, quickly giving satoru his goodbye kiss, and running to your daughter to give her own goodbye peck on the cheek as well, “I will miss you; take care of dada, okay?”

“aren’t I the one who is supposed to do that taking care part?!”

“bye ‘toru; bye d/n! love you!”

“love you too!” they both reply in unison before looking each other in the eye. satoru grins at her, “do you want to see uncle nanami?”

“nanamin!” she squeals then runs to god knows where.

soon, they finally get to jujutsu tech.

it took longer than usual because the little missy ran off and decided to play hide and seek. in addition to that, since the madlives incident, you banned satoru from teleporting with d/n because it gets her really dizzy and she starts puking.

so like the common people, he takes a car and has to wait till they arrive there. he wants to grumble, but, at least, his princess is there to play with him and make conversations.

they are finally in class when nobara coos, crouching down in front of d/n, “oh, you’re so cute!”

the little girl grins, “thank you!”

“also, I love your dress!”

“oh; thank you!” d/n gasps and starts twirling around, “mommy picked it for me! It’s so pretty, right?” nobara nods eagerly at her and it makes d/n giggle.

d/n pauses for a moment, a pout on her face and eyes get teary, and looks at satoru, “mommy…”

satoru pats her head, “we will see her soon; don’t worry.”

“wow; I am surprised you’re acting like a proper dad,” megumi comments, waving at d/n who grins back at him.

swiftly, yuuji defends his teacher’s pride, “hey! sensei is a great dad!”

d/n starts swinging her arms around and running in place like she is preparing for something. soon. it is revealed what she is waiting for. the door opens and she launches herself at the new guest, “nanamin!”

nanami effortlessly catches her and secures his hold on her, “d/n, that was dangerous; what if you got hurt?”

she looks down with yet another pout, “I know…’am sorry. just missed you.”

nanami sighs before patting her head, “it’s alright,” a tiny smile creeps up, “are you having fun so far?”

she nods happily and starts rambling about how cool nobara is or how much fun yuuji is to be around. meanwhile, satoru is standing in a corner with his arms crossed and grumbling, “that’s my daughter, you know.”

“imagine losing your daughter’s affection to someone else,” megumi pops up from behind satoru.

he retorts with no hesitation, “imagine not having a father.”

satoru looks petrified at megumi who is so very offended. satoru starts mini-panicking, “wait—megumi, I was kidding!”

“divine dogs.”

satoru shrieks and d/n squeals, pointing at him, “minmin, daddy’s playing with ‘gumi’s dogs!”

nanami averts his attention to gojo playing (read: being attacked). he nods slowly at the suffering man, “he is having so much fun; isn’t he?”

 “yay!” she throws her arms in the air.

nobara snaps a picture of d/n, “she’s adorable!”

yuuji sobs beside her, “I know right?!”

that was at the beginning of the day, but, right now, satoru has to attend a meeting for some reason with the higher-ups, including yaga. though, it hardly counts as a proper one considering that satoru laid out d/n toys so she can play with him.

“daddy, you’re not supposed to give him the green shirt; he needs the blue one.”

satoru quickly obeys, “yes ma’am,” and he changes the doll into his fabulous blue outfit. d/n giggles and holds his face to kiss his cheek.

one of the higher-ups clears his throat, “refrain from such disrespectful behavior during the meeting, gojo.”

satoru smiles humorlessly at the elder, “last time I checked, my daughter’s happiness is a lot more important than the nonsense you spout every single time.”

d/n carefully makes her way down the table and pulls on satoru’s pants, “daddy, toilet, please.”

“this was a fun meeting!” he beams, collecting d/n’s toys in her bag, “I have more urgent matters to attend to so adieu!” he mock bows, before bending to pick his daughter up, “let’s go princess.”

the door closes after satoru and d/n leave, and everyone looks at yaga. he takes a deep breath, “listen, that's his daughter. asking him not to pamper her is like asking a cat to let go of her kittens. you will get bit.”

time passes and satoru is chilling with d/n in the common room. she is laying on his lap and curled around herself. she groggily looks up to him, “when are we going to see mommy?”

he starts stroking her hair, “soon; I promise,” he takes out a candid picture he took of you and hands it to her, “how about you take this until we go back home and see mommy?”

she nods slowly and hugs the photo close. satoru smiles softly and presses a kiss to her forehead. not much after, d/n falls asleep with your photo secure in her hold.

it makes satoru chuckle. it reminds him of how he can never sleep without you either.

that’s why when he goes on mission, he scrolls endlessly through your photos until sleep takes over him or he listens to any voice message you sent. it helps him with the dilemma of missing you, and he is glad it helps his daughter the same way.

taglist: @magenta-cat-drawingss @pompompurin1028 @scul-pted @requiem626k @nameless-shrimp @sonder-paradise @jessbeinme15s-notebook @todorokichills @ginneko @missrown @shrynkk @simplyxsinned @beautiful-is-boring @starlostlaiba @izukus-gf @irethepotato @thekaylahub @dazaisbloodybandages @aeanya @sweetcloudsimp @moon-catto @the-midnightskies@pianopuppygirl @gojosblackqueen @kryscent @kunikida-simp @whoami-72 @mx-0-child @fiona782 @kisakitwister @imjustasimpxd @psychopotatomeme @dreamcastgirl99 @watyousayin @doobiebochana @laylasbunbunny @hojicha-expresso @4sat0ruu @nineooooo @chuuyasboots @alekssashka7 @rieejjyubi02 @satoryaa @nothisispatrick300 @fallencrescentmoon @etheviese @ho34gojo @the-mom-friend-dot-com @the-weeping-author @stray-npc @libbyistired @anon1412 @anakalana @maehemthemisfit @satorustar @b4nka1

copyright © tender-rosiey

do not copy or plagiarize or you will be reported

[mournings-stars]

could i have anything with a married vox x reader pleasee? i'm so obsessed with this television it isn't even funny 😭

okay im FINALLY publishing this — in my defense i wrote like five vox x wife!readers after getting this and couldn't decide which to publish to this ask but now yall are getting over protective husband vox cus i love him and now i wanna make an actual fic also i originally read this request as wife!reader so i made reader fem but I'm just now realizing it's married i hope that's okay!!

warning: vox is a little crazy and reader does not care

No one knew Vox was married — and it wasn’t because he wanted to hide you, or he felt ashamed. He could never feel ashamed; you were basically his pride and joy — It was because he couldn’t stand anyone trying anything with you. Especially because of how much he doted on you. Someone could easily see how much he cared and use it against him — they could hurt you, manipulate you, maybe even force you into a soul-binding deal. He couldn’t risk anything happening to you.

That was why you lived very separate lives… Well, not entirely separate. He couldn’t stand letting you work for someone else (they could take advantage of you, or try to flirt with you), and he couldn’t handle being too far away from him during the day, so you worked at VoxTek. You had a job where you never interacted with your husband, and it left your days feeling exceptionally lonely. Especially because he claimed that he “didn’t want to overwork you,” which meant he stayed at the office much later than you did and you were left at home. Alone for most of the night, usually falling asleep before he got there, and waking without him because he went in earlier than you. 

You also had weekends off while he worked a good portion of the day, which let you “go out on the town” of course, but it also left you, again, very lonely. He did email you throughout the day, but that was because no one could see those emails. It was “an outdated form of communication” as he called it, which meant no one looked through them. 

Of course, when you did get to see him, you were ecstatic. He went on and on about how much he missed you all week, subtly asking if anyone had bothered you at all. If they did, they very coincidentally disappeared, so you often told him “no” for the sake of your coworkers’ souls.

And of course, after some time, people did start to bother you. They would get promoted, and get the chance to work with your husband directly, while you stayed exactly where you were and didn’t even get a call from him. That led them to teasing, which turned into snide comments and remarks, which became little “accidents” like spilling hot coffee on you or ruining and deleting your work. 

One day, after someone dumped piping hot coffee all over you, and a very expensive blouse your husband bought, you had enough and backhanded her. 

You were an overlord’s wife, and he gave you everything. Even and especially power. That meant the employee was flung across the room while screens burst and crackled around her, and you were dragged up to Vox’s office. 

“What is it now?” Vox asked when your supervisor knocked on his door, ignoring your wincing as you tried to get the scalding hot coffee-stained blouse as far from your skin as possible. 

“Another low-class bitch ruining our image,” was the response that made you laugh, knowing this person would be dead as soon as they opened the door. 

“Ah…” He sighed, but you knew he was smiling. “Come in.” He was probably going through his weaponry, pulling out just the thing to get rid of the “low-class bitch,” but as soon as the door was opened, you were shoved in front of him, and his weapon went off, you weren’t the one to fall limply to the ground. 

The two employees who opened the door quickly dragged the supervisor away and left you alone in the room. 

As soon as they were gone, he discarded his weapon and went to you. “What happened to you?” He wiped under your big eyes as he cupped your cheeks, which were dry, but he could tell you were upset and he was doing his best not to go out and get rid of everyone in your department. 

“I hit someone,” you said, and he found it adorable. There wasn’t much you could do wrong in his eyes. 

Clearly. 

“What’d they do to make that happen? I’ll kill them,” was his quick response before he cleared his throat. “I mean, I’ll talk to them about it.” His eyes drifted down to your blouse, his screen blinking and hands twitching on your face before they went to your blouse and began unbuttoning. He didn't say anything else, electricity zapping between his fingers as he fumbled with the buttons until he cursed and ripped the blouse open. The buttons clattered to the floor as he muttered, “I’ll get — get — get you a new one,” screen buffering and electricity zapping over his entire body. “Are you hurt?”

“I don’t think so.” You knew not to tell him how much it burned with the way he was reacting already. “Vox—“

“After I take care of you, you're going to point out who did this, and who watched it happen. Understood?” He knew you tried to spare your coworkers from his temper, but he wasn’t going to let that happen this time. 

“It’s happened before—“ A loud whir of electricity sounded as Vox’s screen flashed and blue jolts of electricity burst around him. You shrunk back at the overwhelming power, quickly telling him, “I’m fine–”

“You didn’t tell me?” His voice sounded electric, making you swallow as he removed his overcoat to use as a towel to pat your chest dry. He couldn’t even enjoy the sight of you at work, topless, when this was the reason. He watched the way you winced with every touch of his jacket on you, fingers sparking at the redness he could see beneath the coat. His body jolted and the overcoat immediately sparked fire. “Fuck!” He tossed it to the ground, stepping on it to put the fire out. 

“You need to relax,” you told him pointedly. “I’m fine. You’re overreacting.”

“You’re underreacting,” he said childishly, taking in a deep breath before going to a closet in the large room and grabbing a spare blouse for you and an overcoat for him. At the sight of the many things he had to give to you and spoil you with in there, he calmed only slightly. “Did you at least hit her hard?” He asked as he handed you the blouse. You hummed, nodding and making a very prideful smile come to his face as you buttoned up the blouse. “Do you like this one?” He asked quickly, his evident mood shift into wanting to please you making you chuckle. “It’s not as expensive as the one that cunt ruined,” you hummed along to satiate his ego, “but I thought you’d make it look good.” Before you could say anything, he continued. “I have some more I got for you; do you want to see those instead?”

“I like this one. You picked it.” His screen buffered as he cleared his throat, a pink glow on his cheeks that he quickly got rid of. When you noticed he began to relax, you took the opportunity of being in his office to your advantage, sweetly asking, “Can we have a moment together before you go down and fire half your company?”

“Anything you want, dear,” he said, much more cheerful than he was moments ago. “Do you want anything to eat? Drink? I’ll call something up.” He went to the desk at the end of the room as you went to the seating area and sat on the sofa. “Where should I order from?”

“Vox, you’re at work. You shouldn’t order anything,” you had to remind him of his own rules he set for himself. “They’ll see me here–”

“Are you wearing your ring?” He asked, speaking over you.

“I’m always wearing my ring.”

He nodded, looking down at his matching golden band. “Let them see.” In the moment you gave him to think, he’d come to the more rational conclusion that he wouldn't harm anyone. Just that he’d terrify them to death by making it known that you were not to be touched ever again. “I’ll make sure everyone knows who they decided to fuck with today.”

[incognit0slut]

Pretty when you sleep

As newlyweds, Spencer couldn’t keep his hands off of you. Even when you were asleep.

warnings: (MINORS DNI!) fem reader, consensual somnophilia, unprotected sex, very minimum plot yet very heavy smut. words: around 2k

a/n: In another episode of me getting inspired by a clip that I turned into a gif and wrote something out of it🥴 if you want to read my other attempts at writing a blurb based on gifs, find the hashtag #gifwriting on my page. Also, I can't believe this is my first fic of him as a husband.

YOU WERE TOO PRETTY TO RESIST. You just looked so goddamn tempting while laying on your stomach like that. It didn’t help when the strap of your nightgown fell from your shoulder, uncovering the swell of your breast.

You were so breathtakingly beautiful. So soft. So irresistible.

Spencer always made sure he had your consent every time he touched you. He grew to understand what you liked and didn't like when it came to sex, and sure, maybe thinking of brushing his fingers along your skin while you were unconscious wasn't the best idea. But he couldn't help it. You were just too inviting to resist, so he placed a hand on your hip.

You stirred at the sudden contact he initiated and unconsciously readjust into a more comfortable position, your toes curling before relaxing once more. When you finally stopped squirming around, he reached out again, letting his rough fingers travel up your exposed leg. He started at your knee before going further up between the apex of your plush thighs, where that sweet little cunt of yours was waiting for him.

You were still asleep, even as he started to carefully stroke you, dragging a single knuckle up and down against your thin panties and suppressed a groan as he felt the heat radiating from underneath the material. Your breathing pattern began to change as he continued with his teasing. By the time he circled your clit and added the slightest amount of pressure on it, you started to pant and push your ass higher into the air in response.

He smiled. You wanted this.

Of course, you did. The way your body reacted to his touch spoke for itself. You were already getting so wet that your panties were turning damp and sticky with arousal. He continued to massage your clit through the thin cotton, and he watched in awe as your breath hitched in your throat, almost as though you could feel his actions even when you were unconscious.

Spencer kept his eyes trained on your body as he moved to dip your panties down your legs, carefully lifting your body up just enough to slide them down your curves, allowing them to sit around one of your ankles. Then he carefully slipped off his own clothes, trying to keep as quiet as possible, before his palms splayed against your body to move you onto your back.

“So pretty," he mumbled under his breath as he took note of your loose nightgown and the way it had risen up, exposing more of your skin to his prying eyes. He moved over the mattress slowly, making sure you were still fast asleep, and slipped between your now parted legs.

God, how had he become so lucky? Having you reciprocate his feelings was already a surprise when he confessed, but it surpassed his expectations when you agreed to be his girlfriend. Ten months of pure bliss was what he felt throughout your relationship, and when he noticed some of your clutter in his apartment, he wanted to see it every time he came home.

And now, miraculously, you were his wife. The word carried a weight of joy and wonder that he couldn't quite fathom. Every morning waking up to your shared life, and every night falling asleep next to you, felt like a dream too good to be true. 

Granted, you've shared intimate nights so much that he should've gotten used to your body by now. Yet, every touch felt as electrifying and exhilarating as the first time and he found himself still captivated by the warmth of your presence. Even now as he fisted his cock, giving himself a teasing tug as he ran his thumb against the tip, his eyes raking your exposed body.

The way your legs parted for him, showing off your wetness and how already swollen you were even when he was barely touching you. His gaze swept over your exposed breast that slipped out of your nightgown and he brushed a thumb against one of your stiff peaks, feeling the way you trembled beneath him.

The way you shuddered made him jerk his hips against yours erratically, pushing his cock against your mound. Your body reacted to his touch, even in slumber, as your hips arched off the bed. His breath hitched when he rutted his hips forward. The sight of his cock against your abdomen showed him just how deep he would be inside you.

He then eased his hips back to drag the thick, swollen tip through your outer lips. His eyes focused on the way your pussy spread for him, as though inviting him inside. Your arousal coated his swollen head as he focused his attention on your clit, pressing down on it with his cock as he listened to the increased pace of your breathing.

He moved his cock back up as he let the underside split your folds open, resting his girth between them snugly as he let out a low groan at the heat radiating from your core. You were so fucking pretty it was unreal.

“You’re so wet,” he murmured, holding onto the base of his cock as he started to drag the tip through your wetness again, grunting softly as it caught against your tight entrance. “Look at you swallowing me.”

Spencer exercised restraint as he gave soft, subtle thrusts into your aching cunt. His gaze flickered between your face and his cock splitting you apart as he continued pushing himself forward, feeling your body begin to resist his entrance as he tried to change the angle.

"I'm sorry, Angel," he whispered. His chest rumbled with a groan as he felt you clenching around his thickness, causing his eyes to snap up to your face in surprise, thinking that he’d wake you up. But you were still very much asleep. "I can't resist you."

He let out a sigh as he managed to thrust his hips further. He paused for a second to cherish the feeling of his cock being completely buried deep inside you, running his hand over your abdomen as he tried to feel himself inside you, pressing against your pelvis as he throbbed at the sensation.

He held your hips and slowly dragged his thick cock from your cunt, leaving the tip to keep you stretched out before plunging back inside. The restraint he once had now long gone with the way your body hungrily sucked him. His pace increased as he leaned forward, hovering his body over yours with his hands splayed on either side of your head. He sucked in a breath at the way your body adjusted to him, clenching around his cock as he kept rutting his hips.

And then you suddenly stirred. You moved slightly, your chin tilting upward, and your lips parting to release a breath. Your eyes slowly flutter open from your slumber as you feel the warmth of his body, the subtle shift of his weight, and the aching sensation between your thighs.

"What..." Your voice cracked as you turned to see him, only to let out a low groan at him thrusting a bit harder against you.

"Shh, it's just me," he whispered. The haze of your sleep lifted, and your gaze met him at the same time he leaned down, pressing his lips onto yours. 

He captured your lips in a slow, passionate kiss. His tongue swiped over your bottom lip as your hands pressed to his chest, feeling his flushed, hot body against your own. You let him devour you while his hips increased in speed, rolling against yours as whimpers began to spill from your lips. Your thighs instinctively tightened around him, curses spilling beneath a heavy breath as the bliss filled your body.

"Spence..." you whimpered. You were breathless, eyes screwed shut, legs now parting even further to give him better access. Throughout the time you were in a relationship with him, you never imagined being woken up like this, but you weren't complaining. Not when you could feel his cock stretching you so deliciously.

Spencer was often embarrassed when it came to dirty talk, but once he realized how much you relished those whispered, filthy words, it became a personal mission to keep you thoroughly satisfied. Knowing how much you loved hearing those filthy words became a secret thrill for him, which was why when he leaned closer to whisper in your ear, you became a whining mess.

“You're always so tight,” he began, his voice deep and raspy, right in your ear before he nipped at the lobe, sending a gasp spilling for your lips as you reached for him in an overwhelming burst of arousal. “Look at you taking me so well. It's like your pussy is made for me.”

A rush of burning heat filled your body, his words affecting you with heat spreading from between your thighs to reach even your toes and fingertips. He buried himself between your neck while thrusting inside of you with rising desperation, pushing himself further, his body rolling against yours.

“Faster,” you begged him in a breathless whimper, all before your teeth sank into your lip, brow wrinkling, moans filling in your chest. It only took him a second to comply. The thrusts of his hips created a loud smack as drove his cock deeper inside of you. You couldn’t help but cry out, overwhelmed by the pleasure, squeezing yourself so tight around him that he let out a grunt.

“God, you feel amazing,” he groaned in your ear, having the proximately to tell you the dirty, nasty things on his mind. His lips brushed over your neck as he increased his pace. “I love fucking you like this.”

“Please… don’t stop—” You gulped with a brief pause. “Feels so... so good.”

He shook his head against your shoulder.

"I'm not stopping," he continued to whisper in his gruff voice, earning goosebumps on your quivering body. “I love feeling you this close.” He pressed an open kiss on your skin. "I love making you desperate."

“Fuck,” you cried out, body weakening with his every word. The sounds of him pumping into your slick, wet arousal became louder the quicker he thrust into you. “I-I’m getting c-close."

You continued to warble out broken sentences, trying to form any coherent thoughts but all you felt was the searing pleasure that flowed through you. The lewd sounds continued to fill the room as your essence dribbled down your ass and onto the bed, staining the sheets. "I-I'm gonna—"

“Come for me,” he encouraged, lips pressing to your skin between words. “Go on, come on my cock.” The choice words sent a shiver down your spine as the heat bubbled between your thighs. 

“I'm coming,” you cried out, voice straining and struggling to speak from him leaving you so breathless. Your body tensed as the pleasure swelled through your body and his final confession toppled you right over the edge.

“I love this so much,” he groaned between you gasping as the first wave of pleasure surged through you, “I love you.”

You finally let go, toes curling in ecstasy as you arched your back, legs growing further apart. Your head spins from the warmth filling every inch of you as he fucked you through your orgasm. You gasped his name, overwhelmed with the bliss he offered, the emotions that drove you at his words. You wanted to say them back, but you couldn't even think properly as the wave of pleasure washed over you.

He continued to thrust, eyes closed, brow creased, lips parted, huffing and groaning and holding you tighter until he reached his own peak. The moment a heavy exhale left his lips, his hips slowed and his cock twitched, signaling the pleasure filling him as he released inside of you. You moaned at the sensation before he eased himself and collapsed on the bed, bringing you along with him as you settled on top of his body.

The two of you lingered in the aftermath of passion for a few seconds too long—breathless, hot, sweaty, and tired. When you lifted your head to look at him, you noticed the softness in his eyes, your heart fluttering at the sight. 

"Well, good morning to you, Dr. Reid," you teased.

He laughed, his hands absentmindedly stroking your back. There was a warmth in his gaze, filled with affection as you continued to stare at him. "Good morning, Mrs. Reid."

You couldn't help but smile at the endearment as you placed your head on his chest, finding solace in the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. With a contented sigh, you let his warmth envelop you, singking further into the arms of your husband.

a/n: If you have a specific clip you want me to be inspired by, come and drop me a message. But please be specific so I would know which scene you're talking about.

[baby-dr1ver]

pairing: dad!lando x mom!reader

warnings: so much fluff, tooth rotting

a/n: hello all! thank you guys for your endless support and request I've been getting! I promise I haven't forgotten your fics, I'm working on them I swear. here's a fic I wrote a couple of weeks ago while you wait! btw this literally happened in a dream of mine so I feel like I just HAD to write it.

It was an early morning in Monaco, the sun had just risen, there were faint snores coming from beside you. You could make one out to be your husband having just got home from a long race weekend, and your little boy, Atticus. When Lando got home from a race weekend, he made it a habit to put him in our bed to sleep.

You watch the identical faces for just a moment more before jumping out the bed. You loved days after a race, everything felt like it was finally in place again. You especially loved the morning after, you and Lando created a routine that started before your little one was born. You’d wake up before him and run to the little breakfast nook at the end of the block to grab his favorite. 

After dressing, brushing your teeth, yada yada, you set off. You had a pep in your step, bouncing a little with each stride, feeling lighter and lighter knowing your other half was waiting for you at home, snuggled up with your little creation. You giggled to yourself, realizing how crazy you must have looked to the people passing by. 

 The bell rang above the door as you eagerly pushed it open. The owner saw you and smiled, knowing exactly what was coming. “The usual I assume?” She asked cheekily. You blushed and nodded, “Can you add some tater tots and an apple juice please? Atticus has been in a phase lately.” The owner simply nodded as you paid as she got to work.

As you sat in a small table in the corner, you could see a small group of girls looking your way, trying ti be subtle on the fact that they recognized you. You smiled and shyly waved causing the girls to walk over slowly. “Hi! Are you Y/N?” One of the girls asked. “I am! How are you guys this morning?” You were happy to make conversation with them, feeling better at the fact most of Lando’s fans didn’t despise you. After a few minutes of talking about the recent race, what they were excited to see, they asked for a photo. You had one of the workers take it before handing you the food. You waved goodbye to the small group of girls, smiling to yourself at the softhearted interaction. 

You couldn’t contain yourself as you worked your way through the door. You sat everything out on the counter and prepared it like it was a five star meal. You set Lando’s burrito out, eggs, bacon, cheese, on a plate. You scooped some tater tots in a bowl and poured the juice in a small sippy cup for the little one. 

Just as you finished, Lando came trudging down the stairs. He was dressed in gray sweats, no shirt and his hair sticking up in different directions with that sleepy look in his eyes. “Hi baby, welcome home.” You quietly whispered. He came around the counter to where you were standing and latched onto you. 

You stood there completely at ease with him in your arms, the feeling of his heartbeat against yours, his warm tan skin, the smell of his cologne-everything about him made your heart sing. He started placing small kisses on your cheek and jaw, no hidden intention behind it, just wanted to feel your skin under his lips. He pulls away with a groan, “I forgot the babe upstairs.” I giggled and pushed up towards the stairs, and watch him lumber up to your room to grab Atticus. 

You tuned back to the food for a moment before setting it on the island so everyone could reach it easily. Lando came down the stairs holding your baby boy, dressed the same, with identical looks of tiredness and you audibly cooed. “Hi my little star,” You grabbed a tot from his bowl, hid it behind your back, and walked closer to softly pinched the babes cheek. “did daddy dress you the same?” Atticus pulled his gummy smile, only a couple of teeth in the front, and rubbed his bright green eyes. Lando placed his hand around your waist to pull you closer to him. “It’s kind of unfair that I carried you for nine months but you’re a carbon copy of your dad.” You ruffled his curly hair. Lan huffed, “Could be worse.” You nodded in agreement and pulled the tot from behind your back and offered it to Atticus. His eyes lit up seeing his favorite food. His chubby fingers reached out and snatched it from your hand and tried to put the whole thing in his mouth. You and Lan laughed before he gently pulled it away. “My little duckling, you can’t just shove it like that, you’ve got to bite.” Lando tried to imitate a bite so Atty could do the same. Instead, he started to laugh and shoved the whole thing in his mouth. 

“Yeah, that’s your son love” Lando looked down at you with a disgruntled look, making you join in on the laughter. You lay your head on his shoulder and like it was a reflex, softly kissed your forehead. Atticus leaned down, sticky hand out to lay on your cheek, and tried to kiss your forehead just like his father did moments before. It ended up leaving a wet mark on your forehead, it’s not like he knew had to give his mom a kiss, he was just trying to copy his dad. 

You heard Lando take a big breath in, and without looking away from Atticus, 

“Let’s have another one.”

“Lando!”

[edenesth]

The Way to His Heart [13]

Pairing: general!Seonghwa x wife!reader

AU: arranged marriage au (Joseon era)

Word Count: 3.8k

Summary: Life has been hell ever since your mother's passing many years ago. Despite being from a prominent family, you've never received the privileges associated with it. It only got worse with the arrival of your stepmother and her daughters. When the intimidating General Park was in search of a wife, your father seized the opportunity to dispose of you, simultaneously securing a connection with the powerful general—killing two birds with one stone.

A/N: Listen to 'Nobody else' by Ailee while reading this part to enhance the feels. It was on repeat for me as I wrote this story.

Part 12 | Fic Masterlist | Part 14

"Are you out of your goddamned mind? Among all the eligible women in the nation, you want the General Park Seonghwa's wife? Don't be absurd, Yeosang. They are devoted to one another and will be set to marry, as arranged by your father, His Majesty."

With a shake of her head, the Queen rubbed her temples, realising her fourth son was merely playing with her. She should have known better than to believe he would genuinely consider settling down.

"I'm serious, Mother. Don't you want me to marry?" The prince pressed, locking eyes with the elderly woman as she sighed, "Of course, I want you to marry, but not at the expense of upsetting the King's most trusted warrior. It's not feasible, my son."

As much as Her Majesty would love to entertain the idea of her son's sudden willingness to marry, she couldn't ignore the reality that going against her husband's decision was not possible. While she, as the Queen, held certain influence, especially in matters of marriage, the obstacle lay in your existing betrothal to General Park. Moreover, the deep love between you and the general was widely known.

There was no doubt that Seonghwa would raise hell if he found out about the prince's intentions of stealing his beloved from him. Even Yeosang would not be safe from his wrath by then, especially when the King was known to favour him more than his own son.

"But Mother—"

Not wanting to hear another word that could only exacerbate the conflict within her, she raised a hand to silence him, "Enough is enough, my son. None of this will happen. Besides, I am scheduled to meet the general and his wife for their wedding arrangements in a moment. I will not interfere with their marriage just because you—"

Before she could elaborate, the eunuch came stumbling in with wide eyes, "Your Majesty! The meeting with General Park and Lady Park has been cancelled; word has just gotten out that there is to be a war with Ruhon, and the general will be deployed in just a few days."

Caught off guard by the sudden revelation, Her Majesty was momentarily speechless, but she quickly composed herself and nodded, "Thank you, Eunuch Hwang. If that is all, you are dismissed."

The Queen couldn't ignore the sly grin on her son's face and shook her head, "This does not change anything, Yeosang. He may be going to war for some time, but his wife remains loyal to him."

"And if she doesn't?" He pressed on, a challenging brow raised.

She scoffed in disbelief at his words, "Do you even hear yourself? Must you pursue someone who is already unavailable?"

"Look, I understand your concerns about not wanting to upset Father, but if I can get Miss Jang to change her mind and choose me over the general, will I have your blessing then, Your Majesty?"

The mother of the nation found herself caught in conflicting emotions, torn between the desire for her son to finally settle down and the undeniable realisation that pursuing Lady Park was unequivocally wrong.

On one hand, the prospect of Yeosang embracing matrimony brought a flicker of hope to her heart. The elusive hope that her most rebellious son might, at last, find stability and commitment. The idea of him building a family, continuing the royal lineage, and securing the future of the Joseon dynasty appealed to her innate maternal instincts. This potential change in his life could be the remedy to the constant worry she harboured for him.

Yet, on the other hand, she grappled with the ethical dilemma of her son pursuing a woman who was already promised to another. The Queen, as the matriarch of the royal family, couldn't possibly condone or endorse actions that went against the principles of commitment and fidelity.

The conflicting emotions played out on her face as she considered the implications of her son's request. The desire for him to find happiness warred with the understanding that it should not come at the expense of another's commitment and love.

"Mother, were you listening? I said—"

With a heavy sigh, she fixed him with a stern gaze, "I heard you loud and clear, Yeosang. Go ahead and try all you want; I know nothing I say can stop you anyway. But don't be too disappointed when you realise she remains faithful to the one who saved her from a life of misery and has given her more love than anyone ever had. It's a losing game, and you know it, my son."

He grinned, "You know I love a challenge, Mother. She will be mine before you know it. Say all the righteous words you want; deep down, I know you want this as much as I do. That's alright, I'll be the bad guy, just as I always have been."

After smirking at his mother's apparent internal struggle, the prince left her chambers, feeling satisfied with the reaction he had provoked. He knew he had indirectly obtained her silent approval, allowing him to pursue you despite her vocal disapproval.

Pressing a palm against her forehead, the Queen muttered to herself, "Oh god, what have I done?" She was well aware that the King would not be pleased if he learned about the potential chaos that could unfold due to Yeosang's pursuit of the general's wife. The conflicting emotions within her only deepened, and she dreaded the consequences of the choices she had indirectly allowed him to make.

Meanwhile, at the general's estate, a sombre atmosphere prevailed as Jongho and Eunsook swiftly briefed all staff members about their master's imminent departure.

Although it wasn't the first time they experienced him leaving for war, it marked the first time with the new mistress around. The servants couldn't help but empathise with you, recognising that you had only recently joined the household, and now, your husband would be embarking on a lengthy absence, leaving you alone at home.

Contrary to their expectations, you appeared to be handling the news more gracefully than any of them had anticipated. The only difference in your demeanour would be the heightened display of affection. While the general typically initiated physical closeness, you became less reserved than usual. Perhaps you were cherishing every moment with him before his departure, given the uncertainty of his return.

During dinner that evening, your attention was solely devoted to looking after your husband. You carefully filled his bowl with all his favourite dishes. Whenever his long fringe obscured his vision, you instinctively reached out to delicately brush the strands away from his face, your fingers lightly tracing his cheek. The servants couldn't help but notice the unwavering gaze fixed upon him, already discerning a sense of longing in your eyes.

Eunsook had explicitly ordered that no one bothered the master and mistress after the meal, making sure that you could spend undisturbed time together. The maids were instructed to only appear when summoned.

As a result, you found yourself comfortably nestled in Seonghwa's arms within your pavilion, gazing out at the moonlit lotus pond before you, relishing in the tranquil atmosphere. Millions of thoughts coursed through both of your minds, yet neither of you spoke, preserving the serene mood.

You couldn't resist smiling in his embrace as he traced butterfly kisses from your forehead, along the side of your face, down to your neck. A small giggle escaped your lips at the ticklish sensation, and he grinned playfully. He kissed you on the ear before whispering, "Hey, Lady Park, do you want to know a secret?"

Looking up at him through squinted eyes, there was a hint of suspicion in your gaze, "What secret could you possibly be hiding from me, General Park?"

He chuckled as you played along, leaning in to murmur in your ear, "I haven't told you this before, but... I love you, my wife."

Your heart skipped a beat at hearing those three words from your husband for the first time. Seonghwa pulled back slightly, resting his forehead against yours and staring deeply into your eyes. Reaching up, you cupped his face with your small hands. Your heart fluttered when he kissed your palm before nestling his cheek against it again.

Braving the moment, you planted a soft kiss on his lips. His eyes widened in surprise, accustomed to being the initiator, but he quickly broke into a smile, closing his eyes and responding to your kiss.

In that moment, both of you cast aside thoughts of the impending war, choosing to concentrate solely on each other. His breath caught when you wrapped your arms around his neck, drawing him in closer. This act of boldness was new for you, but he welcomed it, tightening his hold around you.

As your lips finally parted for air, he enveloped you in a tight hug, his larger frame securely holding you. With a hand cradling the back of your head, he nuzzled his nose against your neck, committing the sensation of you in his arms to memory. It was a moment he wished could last forever.

You held him just as tightly, burying your face against his shoulder and savouring the warmth, not knowing when you would be held like this again once he leaves.

After a moment, he withdrew slightly to meet your gaze, "Wait, I just told you that I love you. Are you not going to say it back to me, Lady Park?"

With a mischievous shake of your head, you playfully stuck out your tongue, prompting him to burst into laughter. Softening your expression, you responded, "If you want to hear me say it back to you, General Park, then you'll have to come back to me safely."

He turned serious, nodding with a determined smile, "You know, I used to approach wars as if they were just games. Dying didn't matter, and I had nothing to lose. But for the first time, I'm afraid... because now I have something worth living for. It's you, my love. I promise you I will do everything in my power to return to you."

"Good afternoon, my lord." Physician Jung bowed respectfully upon entering the general's study after being summoned.

Seonghwa looked up, acknowledging the taller male's presence, "Ah yes, you're here, Yunho. Please take a seat." He gestured towards one of the two chairs positioned in front of his desk.

"Have you called me over to officially dismiss me? I'm aware Lady Park's treatment is almost done; perhaps you'd like to relieve me of my duty sooner." The doctor inquired as he sat, contemplating whether he should start packing up if that was the case.

Releasing a small sigh, your husband shook his head, "No, that's not why I called you—"

"Yah, Park Seonghwa. You better have a good reason for summoning me over so soon. Your wife's next batch of clothes is never going to be ready on time if you keep calling me over for every little thing..." Hongjoong blinked as he sauntered in, surprised to see the doctor also present and not missing the general's serious expression.

"Oh dear, I know that look. What is it?" The dressmaker winced, moving over to sit down beside Yunho.

Pressing his head into his hands, Seonghwa took a deep breath before addressing the matter, "I won't beat around the bush," Raising his head, he finally met his friends' gazes, "There is an imminent war with Ruhon, and I will be deployed to the war zone in just a few days."

Hongjoong and Yunho exchanged glances, shock etched on their faces. It had been a while since the last war, and the unexpected news hit them with a wave of concern. The government had done an excellent job of keeping such matters under wraps to prevent panic among the citizens.

After a moment of shared silence, the dressmaker leaned back in his chair, a troubled frown etched on his face, "A war? How did this come about? I thought we were in a period of relative stability."

The physician, equally perplexed, chimed in, "And so soon after your marriage. It's... unprecedented."

Your husband sighed deeply, running a hand through his hair, "I was just as blindsided by the news. His Majesty called me for an emergency meeting yesterday. It seems our diplomatic efforts with Ruhon have failed, and war is inevitable."

The atmosphere in the room shifted as Hongjoong's eyes widened with realisation, "Wait, that means your wedding ceremony..." He trailed off, feeling the weight of the situation sink in. His expression softened with genuine sympathy, and he spoke with a heavy heart, "Oh no... I'm so sorry, my friend."

Seonghwa nodded appreciatively at his friend's understanding, acknowledging the unspoken disappointment. Collecting himself from the initial shock, Yunho, always the practical one, voiced out, "Then you must have called us here for a good reason. What can we do for you, general?"

"Thank you, both of you. I summoned you not only to share the news but because I need your help. While I'm away, I want to ensure that my wife is well taken care of. Hongjoong, please continue overseeing her wardrobe and comforts. Also, work your magic and cheer her up for me when she's down. Yunho, unfortunately, I'm going to need you to stay here and ensure she receives the best medical attention. I understand this limits you from accepting other patients, but I promise we will compensate you for your dedication."

His friends readily agreed without hesitation. The dressmaker turned serious, "Don't worry, I'll visit more frequently to keep her company," The doctor nodded in agreement, "And I'll stay for as long as you need, my lord. Lady Park will receive the best care."

"I appreciate it, you two. I'll trust you to keep an eye on her while I'm away." Your husband said, feeling a bit relieved, knowing he could count on them to support you in his absence.

The next few days passed in a blur as you spent nearly every waking second with your husband. Daytimes were filled with endless conversations in his study, discussing anything and everything, while late evenings were cherished in your pavilion, holding each other close and sharing affectionate kisses.

Even if it wasn't a honeymoon, it felt like one.

The imminent war and Seonghwa's unavoidable departure were like an unspoken presence in the room, always lingering in your minds. However, neither of you dared to address it, choosing instead to talk about anything but the impending separation.

You started questioning whether it was the right choice not to express your love for him as well. What if he never returned? The thought of regret lingered, and you couldn't shake off the fear that he might not make it back alive. Despite his skills as a fighter, the harsh reality was that he was only human, and the uncertainties of the battlefield weighed heavily on your heart.

Spending another evening in your pavilion, you shifted slightly within his embrace and looked up at him. Your heart clenched at the sight of the worry etched on his face. Self-doubt crept in as you considered the selfishness of your actions. While he prepared to face the dangers of war, you would be waiting in the safety of your shared home. How could you deny him the reassurance of hearing your love in return after he had opened his heart to you?

Lifting your hand to gently cup his cheek, you prompted him to meet your gaze, "Seonghwa, there's something I need to tell you before you leave... I—"

Before you could finally utter those three words back to him, Jongho hurriedly approached, "Sir! Oh gosh, I apologise for the interruption!"

The general sighed and shook his head, straightening up as he turned to his assistant with a wry smile, "What is it?"

Bowing deeply, the younger man gulped before delivering the news, "Sir, the base at the war site has been set up. General Officer Song is already there and ready to begin strategising. You are expected to travel there at your soonest convenience."

Your heart sank at the realisation that the moment of departure had arrived. You felt your husband let out a shaky breath and tighten his hold around you as he inquired, "I understand. Are my belongings all packed and transportation prepared?"

With a grim expression, Jongho nodded, "Yes, sir. Everything is ready to go. All that's left is you."

"Guess it's time for me to go, my love."

The sound of your heart pounding in your ears drowned out any other noise as Seonghwa got suited up. You accompanied him, silently witnessing the transformation of the man you loved into the formidable general the nation needed. Every clink of his armour resonated with the weight of his duty, the heavy responsibility that he shouldered willingly.

The urgency was palpable. He was the linchpin of the military, and his immediate presence was required. It felt like a luxury that you had a few extra days to spend with him, but now, the inevitable farewell loomed, and the time had come for him to go.

Watching him clad in his armour, fear settled in the depths of your being. Your husband, the man you cherished, was about to embark on a perilous journey, risking his life to defend his country. The gravity of the situation sank in, and the ache in your heart intensified. You couldn't shake the overwhelming sense of dread, envisioning the horrors he might face on the battlefield.

Preparing for the farewell, you tried to muster the strength to bid him goodbye, but the lump in your throat made it difficult to find words. The separation weighed on you, and the air was thick with the unspoken anguish that enveloped both of you.

It was well past your usual bedtime when he was fully prepared to leave for the war zone. Standing at the entrance of the general's estate on a chilly night, you sent him off to work, a routine you had grown accustomed to. Only this time, the circumstances were vastly different. You had no idea when, or if, he would return. The concept of him leaving for war felt abstract until this very moment, seeing him before you in the dignified attire of a military commander.

You fought to hold back your tears as he drew closer, enveloping you in a cloak to shield you from the cold breeze, "It's cold out here, my love. You better head in soon to catch up on some rest. While I'm away, you must take care of yourself, alright? If you're bored, summon Hongjoong, and he'll keep you entertained. If you're feeling even the least bit unwell, Yunho will be around."

His heart clenched at the sight of your tears trickling down your cheeks, and he swallowed the lump forming in his throat. Leaving you was proving to be much harder than he had anticipated. Unable to resist, he wrapped his arms around you one last time, holding you close as he breathed in your scent, "God, I love you so much."

Jongho and Eunsook watched with pain in their eyes as you shared your final embrace. With no choice, one of the waiting coachmen reluctantly cleared his throat, "General, I hate to break you up, but we really must go."

Feeling him start to pull away, you panicked and clutched his arms, speaking through sobs, "W-wait, before you go... I just... I really want to th-thank you for everything you've done for me since my arrival. Thank you for accepting me, for s-seeing the beauty in me, for protecting m-me. I will f-forever be grateful, and I... Seonghwa, I lo—"

Your words were silenced by the familiar sensation of his lips firmly pressing against yours. The kiss carried the saltiness of your tears and perhaps a bit of his as well. Pulling away just enough for his lips to lightly brush against yours, he whispered, "No, don't say it. I want to hear it when I come home to you."

Smiling through your tears, you nodded.

Pleased, he planted a gentle kiss on your forehead, murmuring a soft, "Good girl," before shifting his gaze to his assistant and head maid, signalling with a nod that it was now their responsibility to look after you. The two bowed deeply in acknowledgement.

With a heavy heart, he reluctantly stepped away, the anxious sounds of his soldiers' boots tapping against the ground filling the air, "I'm afraid I really must go. I'll see you again, my love."

Despite the ache in your chest, you managed to beam encouragingly at him, "Go, our country needs you. I'll be right here waiting for you." It took every ounce of strength for the general to turn away, fighting the urge to look back, knowing he wouldn't be able to resist running back to you.

As the carriage rolled away, disappearing from view, you did your best to hold back your tears until the very last moment. Once it was out of sight, you sank to the ground, the weight of reality crashing down on you. Jongho and Eunsook rushed to your side, supporting you as you struggled to stand. With their help, you made your way back into the estate, the silent sobs finally escaping as you clung to the memories of the last moments with your husband.

I love you too, Park Seonghwa.

« Preview of Part 14 »

"Come on, Lady Park, don't be too down. Your husband didn't earn the reputation of the most formidable general in all of Joseon for no reason, you know? I've witnessed him in action enough times to vouch for his skills. He'll be just fine."

A giggle escaped your lips at Hongjoong's attempt to lighten the mood. He guided you around town, aiming to distract you from your concerns about Seonghwa. Two maids followed behind, ready to assist you and the dressmaker with any purchases.

He led you to areas of the town you had not yet explored, stopping to shop for materials that would aid in his dressmaking. Your eyes widened in awe as you took in the various coloured fabrics neatly arranged in the shop you had just entered.

Curious, you asked, "What is this place?"

Hongjoong grinned, pleased to see your attention finally shifting away from thoughts of your husband, "This, my dearest, is a fabric factory. Feel free to look around, but don't wander too far. I'll be here placing my order, alright?"

With a nod, you ventured deeper into the expansive store, marvelling at the diverse array of fabrics on display. Unbeknownst to you, you had wandered to the back, where factory workers toiled under the harsh sunlight, dyeing the fabrics.

A few of them cast curious glances in your direction, and you stammered out an apology, "O-oh, my apologies for intruding!" Amidst the workers, a familiar face caught your eye, and you did a double take. You doubted your eyesight, and the person glared back at you with intense hatred.

Gasping, you recognised your stepsister, not missing the sight of her body littered with new scars, "J-Jinjoo? Is that you?"

Damn, I'll have to begin working on my thesis after releasing this part. The next one is most likely going to take slightly longer than usual, so I apologise in advance!

As always, thank you for reading and let me know your thoughts! <3

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All Rights Reserved © edenesth // DO NOT REPOST, TRANSLATE, PLAGIARISE OR REPURPOSE.

[super-who-locked-me-in-here]

I've been seeing some articles online about how now would be the perfect time to revive NBC Hannibal because Bryan apparently has ideas and Mads wants to finish the story and also we're coming up on the 10th anniversary of The Wrath of the Lamb in 2025, but how, because of the time between seasons, they'd most likely have to do a time skip in the show.

And I just have to say that I love that idea and I think that's how season 4 could thrive if it happened. Because the fandom has had nearly 9 years to think about and create their own post-fall headcanons, and there are bound to be people who maybe made art and fics and are in love with their post-fall idea and the show wouldn't turn out the way they wrote it in their fic or drew in their art and they'll be upset.

But what about 5-10 years after the fall? I don't know about y'all but I don't see a lot of fan works about that. And I think it'd be interesting to see what the NBC Hannibal team would do with a Will and Hannibal who are fully realized as murder partners, if not murder husbands.

If I could throw out an idea for what I think would be a funny way to show us Hannibal and Will in a timeskip season 4:

~~~~~

We're getting a moving view through their house in Cuba. It's dark outside and dark in the house, too. We can hear the sounds of Will and Hannibal somewhere else in the house, grunting and breathing heavily.

Will pants out, "Move faster."

"Patience Will. I'm not as young as I used to be."

A laugh escapes Will and he grunts again, "You didn't seem to have much trouble thirty minutes ago."

"That was thirty minutes ago. This is now. Perhaps if you're so spry then you don't need my assistance finishing this." Hannibal remarks.

There's a loud thud. "Hannibal!" Will accuses, although he sounds more annoyed than angry.

The camera finally pans to a hallway in the house where we see Will carrying a dead man by his underarms and his lower half is dropped unceremoniously at Hannibal's feet.

Will sighs and looks at Hannibal. "Will you help me with the cuts? Please."

The corners of Hannibal's lips turn up. He's never been able to deny Will when he uses that word. He bends down with another quiet grunt and picks up the corpse by its feet, and the two of them move into a room at the end of the hallway and shut the door.

~~~~~

[aurorawritestoescape]

THE BURGLARY

written with @milla-frenchy

Pairing: burglar!Joel Miller x f!reader x burglar!Tommy Miller

Summary: two men break into your house and take more than just your valuables.

TW: 18+ mdni. DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT. NON-CON. Smut. Violence, suffocation, knife/gun play, penetration with a gun, mfm, bondage, degradation, praise, oral (male receiving), a depraved game, butt and pussy slapping, unprotected piv, creampies, cum eating, swearing.

Word count: 4,6k

A/n: @milla-frenchy and I wrote this fic as our contribution to Dead Dove December by @romana-after-dark. Romana, thank you for hosting this amazing event celebrating dark fic! @milla-frenchy I had so much fun writing with you! I love you, baby!❤️🫂Dividers by @saradika-graphics

If you’re sensitive to any of the warnings, do not read the fic! We don’t condone the actions of the characters. It is all fictional!

MILLA’S MASTERLIST | MY MASTERLIST

You’re standing in front of the bathroom mirror, the sound of water filling the tub is calming and hypnotizing. You’re wearing nothing but a pink robe, soft and warm. You untie it and open it wide before your gaze travels down to your breasts. You cup them gently and rub the nipples with your thumbs. They perk up at the touch and you flutter your eyes shut as the waves of arousal are spreading through every nerve in your body. One hand leaves your breast and glides down to caress your tummy and then mound. You dip your finger in between your folds and swirl it around your slightly wet clit. When you open your eyes, the mirror reflects your blown pupils back to you. You contemplate getting your vibrator from the drawer and using it in the bath. Your husband is away on a business trip and he won’t be back for a few more days but the idea of waiting for him to satisfy your desire excites you so you take a deep breath trying to calm down.

You take the robe off and hang it next to the sinks. You turn around, come up to the already full tub and bend over to check the water temperature. This is when he grabs you.

The iron grip of his hand is holding your wrists behind your back. His bulge is pushing in between your naked asscheeks. He’s big and strong and you’re helpless against him. He’s keeping you bent over the full bath and then pushes your torso down. Your head is submerged in the tub and you scream and thresh about but your cries are completely silenced by the water suffocating you. Your attempts to break free are fruitless. His fist is clenching your hair and it burns like hell but the pain in your burning lungs overshadows everything else. You’re trying to free yourself from his hold, to kick him and push him away but his beastly strength doesn’t let you.

You’re about to black out when he lifts your head by your hair and your mouth finally takes a life-giving breath. You cough and cry trying to get as much oxygen as he lets you and exclaim, “No, no, stop it, please!”

He growls and pulls your torso up and flush against his chest. You’re covered in water droplets, already cold and shivering but for another reason. The stranger might kill you and the thought makes you tremble and beg for mercy,

“I’ll give you everything, I’ll do anything! Pls let me go..”

You’re crying and screaming but he’s deaf to your pleas. You feel his breath on your cheek and he bites it. He doesn’t break the skin but the pain makes you wail. The man shakes your body and laughs, “Silly girl, the louder you scream the harder it’ll make me.”

Your back is pressed to his broad chest and your whole body is shaking as if electricity is going through every part of you.

“I saw you touching yourself, little slut. Made me hard like a rock,” he bucks his hips into your ass and you feel his clothed hard-on. “I coulda just taken what I wanted and left. But now I think I’ll take this pussy too.” He slaps your mound a little harder than a lover would and a whine escapes your lips.

“Started without me?”

You feel even more terrified if it’s even possible when you hear another voice.

“Nah, just gave this pretty slut a wash. Don't wanna touch her husband's crusted cum on her. We gonna leave our own.”

“Right, brother.” They laugh and you feel you might be sick. It can’t be happening. The sobs are shaking your body as you’re trying to turn your head to the side so you could see the new man.

“Please, let me go,” you plead, hoping the other intruder will be kinder to you.

The first attacker yanks your whole body to the side, turning you away from the tub so you’d face the second man. Your tears make his image blurry, resembling a dark shadow. He’s wearing all black and his face is hidden behind a balaclava. He sounds younger than the other one and is not as huge but he’s still bigger than you. He comes up close, takes your wet cheeks between his gloved fingers and pushes making your lips pout. You mewl and they both laugh. His other hand darts to your mound and he grabs your pussy squeezing your flesh with his harsh fingers. You whine and he looks at the other attacker over your shoulder, “She’s so soft and pretty. Can’t wait to use her.”

His accomplice hums in agreement, pressing his covered chin to your cheek and rubbing your delicate skin with the material of his mask, “need her to open the safe first.”

The second man agrees and steps out of the way while you’re being pushed to the door and into the master bedroom. You walk clumsily but as soon as you reach the doorframe you push all your weight to the side making your capturer crash into the door. Startled for a moment he eases his grip on you and you launch forward. The wetness of your body helps you to slip out of his hands and you’re running out of the room and along the hall crying for help as loud as you can.

Thoughts rush through your head as you realize that you need to get out of the house. So you race to the stairs but as soon as you reach them a hand grips your hair and pulls you back. It hurts and you try to break free but the man overpowers you with ease, drops his weight on you and you both fall on the floor. He grumbles and you realize that it’s the second intruder. He grabs your hands and ties your wrists behind your back with a rope.

“Stop, please, no!” you cry out, feeling pain in your scalp and body but the ache is dull as all your senses are fully focused on survival.

“Slippery bitch!” the younger man spits out and having restrained your hands, sits up on the back of your thighs panting heavily. He slaps your naked asscheek and you sob, tears soaking the carpet.

You hear steps and the first man comes up to you from the side. “Nice try, little slut,” he mocks you, pushing your shoulder lightly with the tip of his black boot. He orders to take you back to the bedroom.

You’re sitting on the floor in front of the safe in your walk-in closet. The men are towering behind you not afraid of you running away as your hands are securely restrained and you look and feel exhausted from the nerves and your attempts to break free.

The bigger man crouches next to you and his gloved fingers grasp your hair. Like a puppeteer he turns your head to him and rumbles, “Password, sweetie.” You begin saying the numbers immediately not seeing the point in protecting your valuables while your life is at stake.

“Please, take everything, just let me go… please,” you beg with a shaking voice but a carnal grin flashes in the opening of his balaclava and panic grips your heart.

“Open your pretty mouth, sweetheart,” he coos at you with a fake care as the other man chuckles and you see him bringing a knife to your face. It looks like a switchblade. You start pleading and crying again, horrifying images flooding your mind. Not waiting for you to calm down, the intruder turns the knife handle up and inserts it into your mouth.

“Hold it,” he orders, “just imagine it’s your husband’s dick. Bite it real hard, I’m sure you’re mad at him for leaving you alone now.”

He pushes your head down to the safe and you bend over awkwardly trying not to fall, knife between your teeth.

You hear the other man’s voice, “Press the buttons for us, princess, come on,” his voice is soft but it makes your hair stand up.

You sob and the knife nearly falls out of your mouth but you clench your teeth around it more tightly and bring the blade to the buttons.

“That’s our girl,” the first man mumbles, as his hand in your hair keeps you from falling.

You push the numbers with the tip of the blade and hear beeps. “You have a nice ass, baby,” the second intruder comments, apparently ogling your butt while you are bending over. You hear a click of the safe door and they push you out of the way hurrying to get their hands on the things they came for. At least you hope they came just for that.

You look up at them, wondering what they're going to do to you. You still hope they will leave, now that you've opened the safe for them.

You try not to panic and focus on your breathing. You can see their dark eyes through the openings of their balaclavas. They look at each other communicating without a word, and then the bigger one turns to you.

“How much time do we have?” he asks his accomplice, his gaze locked with yours.

“Half an hour, easy,” the other man replies.

Your hairs stand up and your breath catches in your throat. You feel that your brain is trying to convince itself that they are not going to hurt you more. You don't dare imagine what they are capable of.

The younger one grabs you by both arms and forces you to get up.

“We have plenty of time to have a little fun,” he laughs, dragging you towards your bedroom. You try to resist, but in vain. He turns around and pushes you against the wall. His hand grips your throat and you watch him in fear as he removes his balaclava. He has brown, shoulder-length wavy hair, and a mustache. The fact that he is uncovering his face terrifies you. These men don't care if you can describe them, and you wonder if you will make it out alive.

He brings his face closer to yours, to the point where your noses could touch, and leans his pelvis against you. You feel his hard cock on your lower belly and the last hope your mind was trying to cling to is now gone. He tilts his head to the side and smiles, looking at you. You hear his brother laugh behind him and say “you’re a fuckin’ psycho, Tommy.” He takes off his balaclava as well, and his face appears behind his brother. He has short, brown hair, a light beard and a mustache. You try to memorize their faces, in case you can describe them to the police. Later.

That “later” fades away when Tommy moves closer to your cheek and slowly licks his way to your cheekbone. You start shaking like a leaf and he laughs, unties your hands behind your back, and grabs your arm before tugging you after him. He pushes you onto the bed, where you fall on your back.

You try to get up, but the other man pulls a gun out of the back of his jeans and points it at you,

“You’re starting to piss me off, sweetheart, so I’m gonna set things straight. We'll fuck you and then we’ll leave. If you struggle, you'll turn us on even more. If you scream, we'll fuck you harder. Do I make myself clear?”

His icy voice, his words stop you and you lie down again. He hands the gun to Tommy and says “I’m gonna need my hands.”

You widen your eyes when he unzips his jeans and pulls out his cock. Thick. Much too big.

“Oh, sweetie, judging by your reaction, your husband has a small dick,” he says, laughing again. His brother chuckles too and adds, “She’s so not ready for our cocks, Joel.” He grabs your legs and pulls them towards him to lay you down.

Joel approaches the bed, slowly jerking off, and kneels on the bed at your side, before bringing his cock closer to your face, “Now you’re gonna suck me off, sweetheart. And after any dumb move from you, my brother will blow your brains out, ok?”

You nod. Your only hope now is that they end this quickly. You try to put aside another source of anxiety that is gnawing at your heart - their uncovered faces.

Joel taps your face with his cock twice before you part your lips slightly, and he says "Sweetie, open wide, or it ain’t gonna fit". You hold back the tears that are stinging your eyes, and you open your mouth wider. He slides the tip into your mouth, and you round your lips around it. He doesn't wait any longer, and sinks into you, holding your head in his hands.

He stops halfway down his member, then pulls back, before thrusting in with one stroke, making you choke. You hear Tommy laugh and can no longer hold back your tears as panic overtakes you and amplifies your suffocation. “Stop it, Tommy, you’re scaring the little thing!” Joel says with a chuckle.

He pulls out of your mouth and releases your head, and you feel Tommy get between your thighs. You murmur, “No, please”, but Joel adds, “Come on, sweetheart, my little brother needs to get his dick wet, too, right?”

Tommy rubs his cock against your folds, then against your clit. His tip rubs it several times, and to your horror you feel your pussy getting wet.

“Little slut is so wet for our cocks, Joel, can you believe it?”

“They always are. All fuckin’ whores.”

Tommy pulls back a little and looks at his cock, before slowly pushing it into your pussy, and growls "Fuck...she's tight, man." You wince as you feel your folds parted.

“Point your gun at her. I’m gonna fuck her throat, I don’t want her to do anything stupid.”

Tommy cocks his gun at your head and starts fucking you, thrusting deeper. Joel grabs your temples with his hands again, and his erect cock sinks in your mouth. He grips your head tighter, and quickly fucks your mouth, grunting. Your saliva pools against his member, and he is thrusting deeper and deeper, at the same pace as his brother is fucking your pussy. His cock hits the back of your throat, and he suddenly pauses, holding your nose pressed against his pubes.

“Don’t move, sweetie.”

You try to calm down, your mind in shock at what’s happening to you. In your home, where you should be safe. He finally pulls away, before thrusting in again, yet not going all the way to your throat.

“You’re taking us good, baby”, Tommy says, leaning over you and pressing his nose to your neck, the gun against your temple.

Still fucking your mouth, Joel tells his brother,“Stretch her with the gun. The handle. Let’s see if her little pussy can take it. Afraid I’ll split her in two with my cock.”

You want to scream, your mouth full of Joel’s cock, but only a vague moan leaves your mouth.

“And I’m the psycho?” Tommy laughs, pulling out and sitting up.

Joel pulls out too, and moves away from you with his hard cock in his hand, watching Tommy position the handle of the gun at your entrance with one gloved hand, and pressing your stomach with the other to hold you against the bed. He pushes gently and you cry out, “No, please stop, it won’t fit!”

“We’ll make it fit. You’re wet enough to take it.”

He keeps pushing, and the tip of the handle sinks into you.

“Say ‘thank you’ to Tommy for stretching you, sweetheart.”

You feel like you're going to pass out. You look at their faces, their eyes fixed on your pussy dilated around the gun, and you try to relax. A part of you wants to rebel and fight, but the other one takes over, knowing that you have no way out of this.

“Look, Joel, she's dripping. Good that we’re using the handle, she woulda ruined the barrel with her wetness,” Tommy comments and they laugh again degrading you.

“Ok, pull it out. She’s ready. Gonna fuck her now”, Joel says and adds, “Get on all fours.”

You don't move, too scared at the idea of what happens next, and Tommy points the muzzle at your forehead. Your tears start to fall again and you finally turn around, exposing your ass to Joel and standing on your hands and knees on the bed.

“I forgot that you had such a nice ass, sweetie!”

“Please… don’t do that”, you whimper with sobs in your voice.

“Don’t worry. I’m not gonna damage your ass. Don’t have the time for that. There’s one more thing we’ll have to do, after we’re done with you.”

You don't have time to ask or even think what they want to do next, Tommy is already on the bed pressing his cock against your mouth. Joel grabs your hips with his hands, and thrusts into you in one swift move. You suffocate under the intrusion, and Tommy pushes his cock in between your lips.

“Come on, baby, be a good girl and let me fuck this wet hole of yours,” Joel mumbles opening your thighs wider and begins fucking you with quick thrusts. Then he slides his hand down to your clit and you try to shake your head, but Tommy holds you tight, his cock buried in your mouth.

Joel coos at you, “Come on, sweetheart, wanna feel your pussy squeeze my big cock.”

You try to resist, but his finger slides against your clit perfectly. You tell yourself that it will end faster if he gets what he wants and let your mind retreat, and the emotions in your body take over. You feel your orgasm building, and your pussy begins to contract.

“Tommy… little slut is clenching my dick so hard, and she hasn't come yet”, he groans with a smile.

Tommy pulls your hair with his hand, and pushes his cock into your mouth one more time, before pulling out, gloved fingers clasped around his shaft. You moan, and cum on Joel's cock while your eyes roll back and your legs are shaking. He’s groaning, feeling your spasms around his cock, “Fuckin’ hell, little slut must be so bored with her husband.”

Tommy’s carnal gaze is sliding down your body and he looks manic when he lifts his eyes at Joel and asks with a smile, “wanna play like that time?”

Joel looks back at him, pulls out of your crying pussy and chuckles, “you’re fucking crazy, brother.”

“Why?” Tommy mumbles running his gloved hand through your messy hair. He looks right into your eyes drinking your fear and his cock twitches.

“The last one wanted it. This one looks too gentle.”

Tommy leans over you bringing his face so close you smell cigarettes on his breath and tells Joel,

“She might surprise us, brother. I’m sure she’s freaky. Aren’t you, princess?”

He grabs your pussy and you gasp. Your gaze darts to Joel who watches his brother’s fingers massage your wet folds and begins stroking his cock,

“Fuck, yeah, let’s do it. If she chokes my cock till I come… might spare her.”

You hear his words and sobs are about to break out of your chest but Tommy senses it and places his free hand over your mouth, “we’ll play one game, princess and then we’ll leave, deal?”

He’s waiting for the answer but you can’t agree without knowing what this psycho means so you just stare at him with fearful eyes.

He straightens up glancing at his brother, “Fuck, I forgot I don’t have to ask cos I have this,” he takes out a gun from his waistband and waves it at you.

“On your mark, brother,” he says to Joel and the bigger man grabs your legs and pulls you roughly on the bed towards him. His cock pushes between your folds and you moan.

“See! The whore loves it!” Tommy points at your with his gun, triumphant smile on his face and you feel a tip of a cock thrust into you. Joel’s huge member parts your folds again and you plead for him to stop but he doesn’t hold back as its head jams right into your cervix after a couple of deep and hard thrusts.

“Hey, hey, Joel. You’ll come too soon! Where’s fun in that?”

Joel pauses his movements deep inside you and you look at the men with confusion and fear twisting your face. What game are they going to play with you? And are you going to survive it?”

“Ready?” Tommy asks and you catch your breath waiting for the worst. Then Tommy leans down a little and slaps your pussy with his leathered palm, just a few inches from the place where his brother’s cock is buried deep inside you. You cry out when the pain catches you off guard and to your horror realize that it’s quickly mixing with pressure. Joel grunts shutting his eyes for a second and then opens them to glance at his brother, “Fuck, you were right. She’s squeezing me real good. Fucking chocking my cock, little slut.”

You sense your walls contract around his girthy length and you hate yourself for it. “That’s just one”, Tommy warns as he lands another blow to your tortured pussy. “Two,” he counts and you mewl, your eyes rolling back while Joel’s groaning through his teeth and plants his hands on the bed at your sides.

“What is it, brother? She’s so pretty and sweet that you’re about to come already?” Tommy mocks the man and Joel looks up at him with a pained and angry expression.

Tommy backs off with his hands in the air still chuckling and then comes back to slap your clit again.

As soon as he says, “Three” you feel warmth filling your pussy up as Joel is coming with a long growl grasping your hips leaving white marks on your soft skin. He starts thrusting into your core again pumping you full of his spend and you feel sick when your core is tightening. You won’t come. You won’t give it to him.

“Holy fuck, princess, you have a magic pussy. To make my bro bust a nut just after three slaps!” He laughs and takes your head in his hands kissing your mouth. First as a joke he pecks your lips but after parting from you for a second he comes back for more as his tongue pushes between your lips. You freeze when he’s stealing another part of you, licking into your mouth while his brother prolongs his climax with short thrusts into your swollen pussy.

Finally Tommy parts from you and straightens up grabbing his cock. “Fuck, Joel, my turn. This bitch is so hot.” He looks into your eyes while Joel pulls out his semi hard cock, and you feel his cum leaking out of your stretched hole and slide down to your asshole.

The men switch positions and now Joel is standing over you while Tommy gets on the bed between your shaking legs. He sits on his heels staring at your hole and says in a calm but stern voice, “Squeeze it out, princess.” It’s so sick that you’re blinking at him until suddenly he directs his gun at you and repeats his command a little louder, “I said squeeze out the cum, little slut!”

You swallow loudly and tighten your muscles. With a satisfied grin he’s watching a string of milky liquid flow out of your hole.

“We need to hurry up,” Joel rumbles, zipping up his pants.

“Yeah, yeah…” Tommy replies, seemingly deaf to his brother’s words, his gaze fully focused on your pussy.

Still having his gloves on he brings his hand to your folds and pushes two fingers into your hole. Then he takes them out and climbs over your body. Without a word be pushes the leathered digits between your lips,with an order, “Clean them up, princess.” You do as you’re told, tasting Joel’s bitter cum and leather on your tongue.

“Good slut,” Tommy half praises half degrades you watching your tongue swirl around his covered digits.

“Fuck, Tommy, come on!” Joel hurries up his brother and the younger man finally listens, gets between your thighs and pushes his cock in with a growl. He slides in easily, your pussy wet with Joel’s cum and stretched out well.

“Come on, baby, let’s win this thing,” he says and you mewl, knowing what’s coming next.

Joel’s hand hits your pussy harsher than Tommy’s and you jolt from the pain. The younger man is hissing through his teeth looking at your swollen reddish folds. He shivers and grips your hips tighter. “Fuck you’re choking my cock, baby!”

Joel doesn’t wait long to stroke you again and a tear slides down the side of your face. Tommy shuts his eyes tilting his head back and as another slap lands on your poor clit you moan and squeeze Tommy’s cock so well it pushes him over. His balls tighten and he shoots his cum deep inside your core. His seed mixes with Joel’s and it’s too much cum for your poor pussy so it leaks out of you in globs pushed out by Tommy’s cock still moving inside you. When he stills panting heavily, he pulls out and announces, “Three-three, bro! Guess we’re both suckers for her pussy”. He tucks his cock away hastily and when he’s ready he leans over your swollen mound and gives it a peck, whispering, “killer-pussy!”

Joel is already gathering the things they’re taking with them and you’re lying not moving a muscle wishing for them to forget about you and leave. But soon Joel comes up to the bed and you see a phone in his hand. He reaches to your face and you flinch, “Shhh, sweetheart, it’s gonna be over soon. Just wanna take a few photos, for the memories,” he mocks you with a smirk trying to fix your messy hair and wiping your face with his sleeve.

“Give me, I’ll do it,” Tommy appears from behind Joel taking the phone from his brother. He directs the camera at your face and commands, “Smile, princess, show us how happy you’re that we’re leaving.”

You smile weakly and he takes a few photos of you splayed on the bed, marks covering your skin. He makes you open your legs and takes a photo of your pussy leaking out their spend on your marital bed. Then he’s checking the photos and mumbles talking to you ,

“You’re a great fuck, princess. Can’t believe your asshole of a husband gets to have you whenever he wants…he’ll have a hard time filling your pussy after we stretched you that good,” he laughs and adds, “we might come back for more one day.” He says it in a seemingly benign manner looking into your eyes but you see a threat rooted in his words. “Keep your little mouth shut and forget our faces or these pictures of you will be everywhere. Surely your hubby will have to say bye-bye to his political career. You got me?” His gaze is serious and intent and you nod hastily.

Your heart is beating fast when you see Tommy take black bags from Joel. Will they keep their promise and leave you alive?

“Take care, princess,” you hear Tommy’s voice as he puts his balaclava back on and walks out of the door. Joel doesn’t say anything. With his face already covered he heads to the door, stops right outside and turns his head to you. He brings his gloved finger to his lips in a silent sign, and then leaves as quietly as he came.

Thank you for reading!

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!❤️

[heartlyrins]

Hi! This is my first time requesting so forgive me if I did something wrong 😿

I've read your Aventurine x slave!reader and I was wondering how about reader who WANTS to be his sex slave? The first time reader met Aventurine, she's been gushing over him. Reader tries to hide it but the word "simp" literally written on her face. Every night reader dreams of riding, sucking Aventurine's cock, wanting his head between her legs, rocking her inside every night. Every time reader nears/sees Aventurine, her face got red and her legs slightly parting although she insists it's just her habit. It didn't took Aventurine long to know what reader has been dreaming of and he's gladly fulfill reader's small dream.

Bonus: reader has a degradation kink and in her mind she'll do anything Aventurine told/request her like a good pet

Once again sorry if this is somehow against your rule 😭 If you're not feeling comfortable with it you can delete my message

MR HOTSTUFF, PLEASE NOTICE ME !

˚₊‧desc— Aventurine noticed that one of his subordinates just can't seem to keep their eyes off him!

˚₊‧tw— smut, degradation kink, dacryphilia, blowjob, slight pet play, adult toys, buttplug, public sex?, dubcon photo taking, choking, masochistic!reader, sadistic!Aventurine, kinda yandere!reader

˚₊‧a/n— I've been having writer's block but I desperately want to write for my husband. This is the most tame fic I've written so far I think, this is soo horrible cuz I wrote this while my head hurts.

He hated dealing with new recruits in the IPC, as the senior member of the strategic investment department—it wasn't really his job to do so.

They're incompetent, slow-working assholes who can't understand a single thing he says. But still—he does need to pick a partner.

He doesn't understand why he needs to, since he's fully capable of himself but it is a requirement for every Ten-Stonehearts members. Said it was something about a program training the recruits..

He goes to round the recruits and asking them questions to find which is the most suitable one for him.

Honestly, all of these recruits are dumber than Topaz's pet. The talent motivation department did a horrible job with finding these recruits.

Each one of them can't answer a simple question, when he asks them if they're willing to risk their life for a gamble, all of them just suddenly go dumb-witted as if they lost all braincells.

He doesn't mean to sound like a fellow acquaintance who nags everytime he sees an idiot, but for the love of Qlipoth are they a dumbass with a stick shoved up their ass.

He rejected all of them and was even beginning to think that he wasn't gonna pick one that's good enough, well that was until he was met with the sight of a cute girl—undoubtedly nervous.

How could he miss such a gem in these crowds? He observes you for a moment and when you glance at him—your eyes shine with admiration.

He likes it, you're cute, can keep up with his commands although you do that little thing that makes you space-out sometimes.

He's not extremely bias towards women, but aren't you just so adorable—a diamond in the rough, he thinks.

And when he asks you a question, you'd respond in a fast tone. And when he finally asks you the question that the other recruits dreaded, you'd answer in a cheery tone.

"Y-yes, I'd like to sacrifice my life for you, Aventurine! You're amazing and I'd really like it if I was your assistant even if that means I have to die just to worship the ground you walk on—" you stop when he just stares in your eyes without a response.

Bingo.

"How is your recruit fairing, Aventurine? I heard that you liked her very much." Topaz asks while petting Numby that's placed on her lap.

"Mmn, she's alright." he says as if he wasn't hiding you beneath his desk, sucking his cock as he has a conversation with Topaz. He hums as he strokes your hair, Topaz still so blissfully unaware of what a happening under the table.

"How about your recruit?" he asks and pushes you down deeper by your head, you gagged but it was silenced by Topaz's talking, thankfully.

"I don't like him, it seems like I chose the wrong one. I'm even considering to drop the program off—it's not even worth it since we should be busy with other things." she sighs before crossing her arms and Numby squeals when she does that.

"Sounds like he's a handful." he almost moans but he managed to keep it in, his face is probably flushed at the moment.

"You have no idea of how much of a—Hey, you okay? You look pretty red." she mentions and almost stands up to check on him.

"Yeah—gh. I'm fine, I'm just not up for conversations right now." you bat your eyelashes at him, tears threatening to fall down whilst you take him deeper in your mouth.

Topaz nods—placing the space trotter down as the chair scrapes against the floor, Numby starts to stare at him as if aware of what was happening.

"Hey Topaz," Aventurine called out as she was leaving the room, "Lock the door before you leave, please." He accidentally let out a moan which was silenced quickly while hoping that she doesn't notice.

She doesn't question the slight moan and leaves the room with her pet following, Numby looks at him suspiciously before being called by Topaz and Numby hurriedly follows behind.

Aventurine finally breathes heavily, not realizing that he was holding his breath all these time. The fact that you're gazing up at him with those eyes of yours make his cock twitch in your mouth.

"Y-you.. Fuck.. What a good recruit I have hm? You're so—fuck.. Come here, bend over the desk." you abide, bending over the table and lifting your skirt to proudly show him the buttplug you wore that resembles a cat's tail.

"So cute.." he coos and flicks the tail, he had gifted you that just the day before you so willingly confessed your obsession over him.

"M-master—cock.." he slaps your butt once, reminding you of your place and how you're not supposed to make any demands.

"Nuh-uh, remember how I taught you? Manners, baby." you whimper at his words before fumbling over your words again which just makes you get another spank on the butt.

"No cock until you learn to ask properly." whining at his words—you try to speak properly, you do want his cock after all.

"Cock—please, Master..? I'll be good.." you manage to let out despite the embarrassment, but you're so used to being shameless around him.

He praises you for a moment and grants your wishes—the wish that you desperately wants his dick in your cunt.

The hands that were holding your hips were now on your neck, gripping your throat tightly and cutting off your airway.

But you like it—it's feels so good to be choked— especially by him! You want to die by his hands.. By his graceful hands.

"M-more.. More.." the word leaves you like a river flowing out, you drool once he pushes himself inside you and grunts.

The rhythm starts off slow and gentle before it proceeds to get rougher and deeper, you moan out and looks at him with a blurry vision.

Just before you could pass out—he took his hands off you just so you could breath in and you physically whine.

Just by that whine—he gradually speeds up faster, hitting the spots within you that you could never reach with a custom-made dildo of him.

Tears start slipping down your cheeks which he smiles at. He loves your tears, he loves it when you break down because of him.

More and more, you start to get crazier day by day—mad over a woman getting too close to him and oh he just loves that.

He kisses your tears away and grins at your dumbstruck face—he cums at the sight of it, pushing his seed deep inside your womb.

You're already gone the first round, he wants to do much much more with you. But first, he pulls out a gift for you.

A collar for you, he clips the collar on your neck. Now he can fuck you easily—and also show that you're his and his subordinate alone.

[lizzaneia-elizalde]

Yandere! CEO! Arranged! Ex-husand x AFAB! Ex-wife! Reader

Hold your horses, we're going to wattpad territory here.

I went back to reading the cliche runaway wife or stranger with them being pregnant from their one night stand with a CEO and I must say, it's making me really nostalgic.

As a small gift for myself, I'm using the name of my CEO protagonist on the novel I wrote, and his background... Actually, the whole story for this one will be just my novel's. Self plagiarism, if you will lol. There are quite the big alterations, but that's for me to know, and for you to skim over.

So, let's unlock a hidden memory especially for previous wattpad girlies, shall we?

Pause though, this is my 3rd pregnancy fic. I hate myself.

Yandere! CEO name: Iñigo Dragonov

"Father, I seriously do not need your input in my marriage!"

"You will marry the Smith's daughter and that's final!"

"But why?! I'm content with living by myself and flourishing the company! I do not need a wife!"

"How about a husband then?"

"No wives, no husbands, no spouses!"

Allastor frowned. He knew that his son is not one for romance, but he dated a handful of people, also slept around sometimes. But for the sake of his son, who is workaholic to the point he's forgetting about his health, he needs someone who would be there for him.

"Son, if you don't marry the Smith's daughter, i'm afraid I have to get back the company."

Iñigo clenched his teeth. His jaw ticking as he looked at his father with wide, feral eyes.

"You won't do that. You already gave the company to me!"

"Yes, but I will take the company back. And you know I can pull strings like no other."

That's how Iñigo married you, the Smith's daughter.

Dragonov group of Companies. Just the name itself sent shivers down the spines of aspiring and even well off businesses. They're ruthless, and dominated almost every possible market. Textile, food industry, hotels, even schools. Name it, and they'll have it.

So, with the Smith Corp being the leading company in the Fashion industry, and the Dragonov looking to integrate themselves in Fashion and not just textile, Allastor decided to have this arrangement. It's like killing two birds with one stone.

Inigo Dragonov. The perfect man and the perfect bachelor. Rich, handsome, reliable, he's someone who's a bonafide genius when it comes to business. Almost his every investment have such huge profits, and never a lost.

So why was he so adamant about marrying when it's a good strategy in order to get into fashion?

He has always thought of marriage as something so restraining. Something that weighs such a workaholic like him down. He never even thought of marrying unless his father and mother mentions it.

So when his eyes laid on you, he sneered in his heart.

He doesn't want you at all.

He's always finding faults in you.

"Why do you look so frumpy? I thought your company focuses on fashion?"

"Stand up straight. Your slouching is unsightly."

"Will you get out of my sight? Don't you have any work to do? Don't be lazy."

His words never, ever dripped of affection, only vile words of nitpicking came out.

You were tired of it. Sick and tired.

Yet you did your best to always serve your husband in all aspects. Affection, taking care of him, even intimacy. After all, he's still the one to put food on your plate. Not just any food also, but luxurious ones.

But the empty feeling on your heart persisted. You don't want this at all.

So with a heavy heart, you decided to divorce him.

As you predicted, he didn't care. He signed it, and you left the chateau.

But as Iñigo relished in the fact that he's now a single man once more and can focus on his work, you knew something he didn't.

You touched your womb.

"I'm going to take care of you myself, baby." You whispered to the unborn child on your stomach.

Iñigo clocked out of his office and sighed, feeling the tiredness cloak his body.

He felt empty. Really empty.

At first, he felt such a deep satisfaction that he can finish the job easier without you around.

Every time he comes home, nobody will pester him to eat, to take care of himself.

Nobody nosey to ask him about his day, nobody to annoy him by kissing him on the cheek...

Something invisible gripped his heart as he groaned and took off his suit jacket.

"Tedious."

He slowly walked towards the dining room and sat down at the head of the table. He started eating his dinner, feeling the emptiness reside the giant mansion.

Was his chateau always this big?

He looked over to the seat to his left where you usually sat down.

He can see the faint image of you in his memories, talking about your day and job, that he painfully ignored.

He remembered how your lips would always twitch as it fought back a frown from his lack of response.

He would watch you go silent and finish your meal quickly, before waiting for him to finish so that you could bring the plates back to the kitchen.

He would remember your tired sighs and fervent glances at him.

He went upstairs, wanting to take a shower.

The room you shared with him was now devoid of your personal touch, just leaving with a dark and modern aesthetic that looked like it was from a display in a furniture shop. It was professional, too professional.

He looked over where your vanity was once was. Now there's just an armchair and a lamp that he never really used.

He got to the bathroom and what was once filled with your bathroom essentials. Now, it was just his shampoo, conditioner, toothbrush and paste, and other basic needs tucked away.

And as he went under the shower, tears started to leak from his eyes, regret gnawing at his heart.

He never realized how much he loved you.

He never realized that the reason why he was so critical of you was that he was trying to distance himself from you.

He never realized that your presence was a constant peace in his fast paced life, and that you were a part of his routine.

And now that you're gone...

He gripped his wrist, a bruise forming.

And that was his daily routine a year after your divorce.

And now, two years later, he was still the same.

On the outside, he looked fine and dandy, but deep inside, he's only a broken husk of a man that he never dared to repair.

He thinks he deserved this as punishment.

But then, in those years, he felt that he needed you to come back.

Yes, he's punishing himself, but he needed you still.

He misses your touch,

Your warmth,

Your care.

Your... Love?

Did you love him?

Or is it out of responsibly?

Bah, he doesn't care.

He loves you, and that was enough.

A knock came from the door and his CFO, and his best friend, Oliver, got inside.

"Here you have it. This week's report of activities of Miss Smith--"

"Mrs. Dragonov."

Oliver sighed.

"yes, Mrs. Dragonov, this is the week's report of Mrs. Dragonov."

Iñigo nodded in satisfaction and waved Oliver goodbye.

He opened the enveloped and his eyes widened. You were back from New Zealand. This was great news! He could talk to you. Maybe coax you into coming back.

Iñigo grabbed his key and opened a door at the back of his office and smiled at the inside. Inside was a perfect replica of your old office when you were still married to him. The only difference is that wall to wall was plastered of your face, taken by his private investigators. On the vanity, which was once in his room, have a picture of you, and your twins with him.

He smirked lazily, sitting down on the chair as he kissed your face on the picture frame.

His stormy dark eyes were bent a bit, his gaze filled with so much longing and regret.

"I'll take back what's mine." He whispered.

"and I'll do everything and use everything at my disposal to get you back." Iñigo declared, looking at his children.

"And I mean everything."

"We need to do this."

"Tsk. Why would I? I'm perfectly capable of myself."

"We both can't deny the fact that they need me. You need me."

".... Okay."

" But in one condition."

"What is it?"

"You need to marry me."

You blinked, not getting this absurd situation at all. Marriage again? But why?

Seeing your confused face, Iñigo grabbed your hand gently and squeezed them.

"Sweetheart, you don't want our children to grow up ridiculed, right? What would the people say if they saw our children with no father?" Iñigo started to whisper, coaxing you into seeing his perspective. "I am willing to provide the support you need."

You shook your head.

"But I can provide that myself. I am rich also, so that support means nothing."

Iñigo gritted his teeth and held you tightly once more.

"What will an incomplete family do to our children? Won't they question my absence? Besides, a father is a crucial role one must be filled no matter what. And I'm fully intending to be present at all." He coaxed you, whispering words of promises he wants to fulfil. "There are studies out there that an incomplete family slows down children's development."

He continued to try and let you see his perspective.

"With my influence, nobody can touch you and the children. I promise, I won't be an asshole again and ridicule you. I am so sorry for saying those things." Iñigo whispered as tears filled his eyes. "I regretted all of those. Every single day since you left, I felt like a husk, I know something was wrong, and that I was that something. I hurt someone so precious to me."

Why would he need to dirty his hands when his words and acting skills were enough to persuade you?

Iñigo knelt down, hugging your waist, begging, groveling for you to come back.

And when he saw your resolve crack in front of him, he hid his smirk as he continued to sob in front of you.

His words were working.

Besides, he knows the children were your soft spot.

He was thankful for the existence of your children. If not, he'll probably resort to... Extreme ways just to get you back.

Maybe like, making your company bankrupt with him the only lifeline left.

But now, he held your waist tightly, listening to your words as you gave up trying to fight his logic.

You were his.

And you will continue to be his,

Until death do you part.

[babydollmarauders]

TIMELESS — JACK HUGHES

jack hughes x fem!reader

surprise song! part (and final part) of the Speak Now Fic List

summary: in which y/n writes she and Jack’s first dance song and it’s Jack’s first time hearing it

notes: Taylor doesn’t exist in this alternative universe, and you’ll understand why! (2.5k words)

“i want you to write our first dance song.”

when Jack had told me that just five months ago, i was at a loss for words.

i’m no pop star, by any means, and i’ve never desired to be one. i dabble in song writing as a way to release my anxiety and that’s it.

i’ve bounced lyrics off of Jack for as long as i can remember. we went from facetimes in high school, after practice, singing him verses i was unsure of, to sitting beside him in bed, my guitar in my hands as i tried to work out lyrics and having him put his two cents in.

he knew i never planned for anyone else to hear them. they were for he and i’s ears only. yet he still complimented my voice, my lyricism, the instrumentals i played out in the dead of night.

he told me i wrote like a poet. he called me the greatest storyteller who’s ever lived.

but the greatest compliment, and also the greatest challenge, he’s ever given me, was to write the song to which we’ll have our first dance as husband and wife. to write our love into the purest form of art.

it took me four months to write what our love felt like, into words. constant lyric changes, and multiple instances of scrapping a song altogether and starting anew. it took another month for me to get it all made in a rented studio. recorded and produced into the song it is now.

but as i took so long to perfect it to my liking, i took the greatest risk of my songwriting journey. i never once bounced lyrics off of Jack. i wrote only when he was on roadies, hiding my journal inside of an old blanket that sits on the high shelf in our closet when he was home.

i wanted this song to be a complete surprise once it was finished. i wanted him to only hear it once it was in its perfected form. and that would be today.

my leg bounces on the couch, my fingers playing with the fringed side of the decorative pillow that lies within my lap, as i wait for Jack to get home from practice.

my nerves are quickly rising, my anxiety getting the best of me. if he dislikes this song, then i only have one month to create an entirely new one.

i feel sick. like i could both pass out and lose my breakfast at any moment.

my head perks up as i hear the apartment door open, the un-hushed whispers of Jack and Luke reaching my ears, and when they step into the living room, the signature smile on Jack’s face brightens.

“hi, baby.” he grins, bounding forward to press a kiss to my forehead. “i didn’t think you would be awake already.”

“i got it.” i rush out, the monotonous small talk of the moment not appealing to me in the slightest.

“got what, doll?” Jack’s brows thread together in confusion, and i can hear Luke’s pots and pans clattering in the kitchen.

“the final demo of our first dance song.” my teeth sink into my bottom lip, watching realization settle over Jack’s face. “the producer sent it to me this morning.”

“that’s great, baby! why do you look like your gonna throw up?” he laughs, taking a seat beside me on the sofa.

“because i’m scared you’re gonna hate it.” i confess. “i spent so long on this one song, making it into something i’m proud of, but it all means nothing if you don’t think it’s good enough.”

“hey.” he coos softly, a gentle hand raising to cup my cheek. “i love everything you write. and i know that this song is gonna be no exception.”

his forehead rests against mine, my eyes fluttering shut as i take a deep breath.

“are you ready to hear it?” my words come out in a whisper and i can feel him nod against me.

“i’ve been ready since the day i asked you to write it.” i pull back to smile at my fiancé, heaving out a deep sigh.

“hey Luke?” he calls out, getting a distracted ‘yeah?’ in return. “you mind giving us a few minutes alone?”

“uhh-” Luke peeks through kitchen entryway. “‘in my room’ alone? or ‘leave the apartment’ alone?”

“in your room is fine.” i assure him gently and he nods.

i watch as he turns the stove off before walking to his room. as soon as his door shuts, Jack is turning to me with an excited smile.

“okay, let’s listen!” my hand shakes as i lean forward, clicking on my laptop that rests on the coffee table, pressing play on the file.

the first notes echo throughout the living room, the gentle guitar strums causing Jack’s eyes to crinkle as he smiles softly, bobbing his head, his eyes glued to the laptop screen.

“Down the block, there's an antique shop

And something in my head said, ‘Stop,’ so i walked in

On the counter was a cardboard box

And the sign said, ‘Photos: twenty-five cents each’

Black and white, saw a '30s bride

And two lovers laughin' on the porch of their first house

The kinda love that you only find once in a lifetime

The kind you don't put down”

he looks over at me, confusion written across his face, but his eyes still shining with joy.

“And that's when i called you and it's so hard to explain

But in those photos, i saw us instead

And, somehow, i know that you and i would've found each other

In another life, you still would've turned my head even if we'd met”

his eyes grow softer, my cheeks heating up.

sure, i’ve written love songs about Jack in the past, but this one was special. this one speaks a truer and deeper meaning than any of my past songs.

“On a crowded street in 1944

And you were headed off to fight in the war

You still would've been mine

We would have been timeless

I would've read your love letters every single night

And prayed to God you'd be comin' home all right”

his smile is gentler now, his eyes glistening with unshed tears as he snakes his hand over to hold mine, and i know he’s thinking about the same thing as me.

remembering the time early on in his NHL career, when i confessed to him that every time he went on a roadie, i had so much worry that he would get hurt and i wouldn’t be there for him. when i admitted that, regardless of me not being a highly religious individual, i prayed before every game that he would come out okay. that he would come home in the same condition as he left.

“And you would've been fine

We would have been timeless

'Cause i believe that we were supposed to find this

So, even in a different life, you still would've been mine

We would've been timeless”

salty tears roll down my cheeks at the sight of his, gathering on my chin and dripping down onto our conjoined hands, gripped tightly together in my lap.

“I had to smile when it caught my eye

There was one of a teenage couple in the driveway

Holdin' hands on the way to a dance

And the date on the back said 1958

Which brought me back to the first time I saw you

Time stood still like somethin' in this old shop”

he pulls me closer, until i’m practically sitting on his lap, pressing his lips to my cheek, and i wonder if he’s thinking back on when we first met too. but what he doesn’t know is that i saw him first. i’d never told him that bit.

how i silently pined after him for months until we really met. it’s written in my vows though.

junior year, when i first saw him in the school hallway and it felt like everything around me had frozen.

he had been standing at his locker, laughing about something that Trevor had said. i heard the laugh first, and my entire body felt warm. but then i turned and caught sight of him, and it felt like time had stopped. my heartbeat had sped up, everything around me drowning out until all i could focus on was him.

“I thought about it as i started lookin' 'round

At these precious things that time forgot

That's when i came upon a book covered in cobwebs

Story of a romance torn apart by fate

Hundreds of years ago, they fell in love, like we did

And i'd die for you in the same way, if i first saw your face”

our foreheads press against each other, my thumb wiping away his tears.

“In the 1500s off in a foreign land

And i was forced to marry another man

You still would've been mine

We would have been timeless

I would've read your love letters every single night

And run away and left it all behind

You still would've been mine

We would've been timeless

'Cause i believe that we were supposed to find this

So, even in a different life, you still would've been mine

We would've been timeless”

his lips slot against mine, perfectly placed in harmonious synchrony, our fallen tears mingling together upon the meeting.

“Time breaks down your mind and body

Don't you let it touch your soul

It was like an age-old classic

The first time that you saw me

The story started when you said, ‘Hello’

In a crowded room a few short years ago

And sometimes there's no proof, you just know

You're always gonna be mine

We're gonna be-

I'm gonna love you when our hair is turnin' gray

We'll have a cardboard box of photos of the life we've made

And you'll say, ‘Oh my, we really were timeless’”

my thoughts drift back to the first time we really met.

it was on new year’s eve in our junior year. Cole was having a joint new years and birthday party.

*** DECEMBER 31ST, 2019 ***

Cole’s house is crowded. insanely so.

i didn’t originally plan to come. but Cole’s become a good friend of mine through our shared history class, and he’s been blowing up my phone all day, begging me all day to attend.

so now here i stand.

alone in the crowded living room of Cole Caufield’s billet residence, a red solo cup in my hand as i people watch.

i’m unsure of what to do. Cole currently sits on the couch with a few of his hockey friends from the US National Development Program, and i feel awkward going over there. but i don’t actually know anyone else here.

i tend to keep to myself more often than not, which results in the rest of my friends being fellow introverts that would never be at a party like this.

“y/n!” my eyes grow wide, my head snapping to find where the call of my name had originated from, and i’m slightly surprised to find Cole grinning over at me, his hand waving in the air and motioning me over.

my eyes flicker beside him to see Jack sat next to Alex, both paying no attention to anything going on around them.

with none of Jack’s attention on me, i figure it’s safe to go over and wish Cole a happy early birthday.

i push my shoulders back, standing up straighter, attempting to push my way through a horde of fellow high schoolers.

but my walk is a lot less confident once i witness Jack’s gaze drifts towards me. i stumble a little, crinkling my nose as a guy i share pre-calculus with bumps me in the back.

“hi Cole.” i force a smile on my surely red face, fidgeting under the gaze of all the boys, but especially anxious now that Jack’s attention is on me.

“hey! you came!” Cole rises from his seat, pulling me into a hug, recklessly causing my drink to slosh in its cup.

“well you were texting me all day. you wouldn’t take no for an answer.” i chuckle as he plops back down to the couch with a sigh.

“i couldn’t throw my birthday party and not have my favorite girl show up!” he shouts, my face heating up. “oh! guys, this is y/n! she’s my friend from history!”

the guys all mumble out distracted ‘hey’s, no longer paying any attention to me, more interested in their new conversations or, in Trevor’s case, trying to charm a girl.

except for Jack. his baby blues are still locked on me, the corners of his mouth pulled up in a small smile.

“hello.” it’s only one word, but my heart races in my chest. i’ve been pining after this exact boy from afar for months, and now he knows who i am. “i’m Jack.”

“hi Jack.” i shake his hand, his touch sending shivers down my body.

*** PRESENT ***

Jack’s hand rubs my thigh, pulling me out of my thoughts.

“We're gonna be timeless, timeless

You still would've been mine

We would've been

Even if we'd met on a crowded street in 1944

You still would've been mine

We would've been

Down the block, there's an antique shop

And somethin' in my head said, ‘Stop,’ so i walked in”

*** ONE MONTH LATER ***

my arms wrap around my now-husband’s neck, my hands toying with the hair at the nape of his neck.

our family and friends watch on from their seats, Ellen’s eyes catching mine, tears already threatening to pour over.

the first guitar chords stream out from the speakers as Jacks hand wrap around my waist, and we begin swaying around the dance floor.

Jack’s eyes gaze into mine, smiling as he whispers the lyrics back to me, relieving some of my anxiety from our guests hearing my song.

i grin back at him, craning my neck to press a kiss against his lips as the song nears its end.

i purposefully avoid looking anywhere near the crowd, laying my head on his chest as the song ends, the final chords strumming.

his heartbeat echoes in my ears, quickening as he presses a kiss against the top of my head.

his words are mumbled into my hair, his lips pressed to my scalp- “our love is timeless.”

[lazyjellyfish300]

Books and Puzzles🤎☕

Miguel O'Hara x gn!Reader S/O

Synopsis: Bookstore, Coffee, Puzzle Building, and Takeout date with Miggy 🤎☕🧩📚 I just know that man enjoys puzzles, sudoku, word search, crosswords, Rubik's cubes, etc. the cutie. 🤓 Word count: 2k

A/N: I didn't intend to at first, but having him get turned on by calling him our husband ended up making its way into the fic. 🫣 s/o to Lauro @bluesidez since I saw you wrote about it earlier so you know I didn't steal from you love lol. 🫶🏽🖤

TW: ESTABLISHED RELATIONSHIP, FLUFF, SUGGESTIVE AT THE END SO MINORS DNI, NOTHING TOO CRAZY, JUST MAKING OUT.

----

Ah the bookstore. You took a deep whiff as you walked in. Was it weird you liked the smell? Maybe it was the fact that your favorite coffee roaster was right next door and the smell wafted to its neighbor, bathing it in a heavenly mixture of freshly baked goods and rich brews meets old pages and fresh bindings. A warm pastry and large iced coffee were calling your name after this. 

Miguel walked closely behind you, hands in his hoodie pouch. Crimson eyes searching over the bookshelves, coasting from title to title as you two meander through the aisles, on the hunt for something new, but not sure what. Miguel grabs a non-fiction book about genetics, his pace gradually slowing to a stop behind you as he gets lost in reading it. 

You don't seem to notice, heading immediately for the romance section. You look over a few titles, eyes widening in interest then quickly softening in familiarity when you realize you've read them already, wiggling the spine of the book back in its tight spot between the others cramming the shelf. You read the back of a few other novels that looked promising, but you're not invested enough to drop $20 in case you don't like it.

You turn around and notice Miguel is nowhere to be found. 

"Babe?” You retrace your steps, finding your nerdy boyfriend lost in his book a few aisles over, a warm smile spreading across your lips. “Hey…” you give his arm a little tug. “Come over here.” 

“Mhmm…”. he says, his reading glasses sliding down a little on the bridge of his nose.

You shake your head at your sweet lover, leaving him to his reading. Finally, after he reaches the end of the first chapter, it dawns on him that his beloved is nowhere to be found. He looks from side to side, hanging his reading glasses on his collar, grabbing a blue bookmark with a wizard cat on it from a nearby kiosk and saving his spot, tucking the book under his arm as he weaves through the maze.

He spots you in no time, coming up behind you with a half grin on his face. “Hello…” he says sarcastically in a half-musical tone. 

You don't turn around, recognizing his voice, your eyes set on two puzzles in each of your hands. “Salutations…”

Miguel leans against a pillar nearby. “No spicy books this time?” 

“No…” you give a little disappointed sigh. “I've read most of them. None really caught my interest…” 

Miguel’s hand comes to your shoulder, making its way to the back of your neck, fingers lightly massaging your nape. “‘M’sorry you didn't find any this time.”

Your legs turn into goo at his touch, but you keep your eyes on the puzzles. “It's okay…I thought we could get one of these puzzles anyway to do together if you want.” 

Miguel's eyebrow raises. “Have you ever put a 500 piece puzzle together?”

You look up at him, “What, is it too hard or something?” 

Miguel shakes his head, chuckling lightly. “No, not necessarily. But it is time consuming, and a little tricky the more complex the design is. Just warning you in advance.” 

You blow air out of your lips like a horse. “Well I'm feeling lucky. Let's get it.” 

Miguel smiles and takes the puzzle in his hand, shaking his head a little at the goofy design. You two check out and head on your way, first stopping at the coffee shop next door for your favorite iced coffee and hot pastries. Miguel smiles as he watches you try and take a picture of your cup and bookstore bag to post on your Instagram story. 

---

When you get home, you both change into hoodies and sweatpants, getting nice and cozy with fuzzy blankets on the couch, warm socks on your feet, squealing a little as you dump out the puzzle pieces on your bare coffee table, rubbing your hands together and rolling up your sleeves a little as you begin, sitting cross legged on your plush rug. 

You snicker as you comb through the puzzle pieces. Miguel is already extremely invested. “¿Qué es tan gracioso? Hmm?” (What's so funny) 

Picture of the puzzle from Ceaco Puzzles, design and art by Brian Cook

You shake your head. “Just trying not to get distracted by the whole bakery I'm looking at.” You point at the coffee pot in the final picture. “That coffee pot does her daily squats.” 

“¡Oye! Focus.” Miguel chides, already making good progress on the far right corner. 

“Yes, chef.” You say with a smile, starting on the opposite corner. 

After about an hour or so, you can feel yourself getting burnt out. Miguel hasn't let up, eagerly making progress on his side of the puzzle, already fully assembled the potted plant, and most of the right border, making his way down to the beer glass. 

You stop, yawning, looking at the TV screen which is just playing one of your comfort series on autoplay, sitting back on the couch next to Miguel, leaning on his shoulder. 

Miguel continues to dig through the puzzle pieces, sorting and matching, turning the small cardboard pieces over in his large, but meticulous hands, brow furrowed in concentration. “¿Qué haces, cariño? (What are you doing, dear) I can't work when you're leaning on my arm like that...” 

You give a tiny groan in response, not budging from your position. “M’tired…” 

“Just lay your head on my lap, goofy.” Miguel says with a hum as he continues to build the puzzle. “As long as I can still move, I don't mind if you rest on me.” 

You sigh, tucking your hair in the hood of one of his large hoodies you're wearing, laying down with your cheek on his thigh, pulling your blanket over you. Your eyes get more and more droopy as you lay in his lap, his stomach occasionally brushing the side of your face as he leans forward and works, his left hand pulling the blanket up and over your shoulder that's begun to slip down a little. 

----

Some time later, you wake up as you feel Miguel shift out from under you, placing your head on a pillow instead. “Where are you going…?” you ask drowsily. 

Miguel smiles, crouching down next to you, his face close to yours so your noses nearly touch. 

"Sorry to wake you…I thought I'd get us dinner, sweetheart. Where do you think, just the usual?" He asks in a hushed tone. 

You nod slowly, your mouth slightly watering at the thought of your favorite food. You squish your cheek into the pillow, flattening it like a pancake, "And can you bring me a smoothie too?" 

Miguel smirks, leaning closer so his chin is resting on the corner of your pillow, his finger gently toying with a loose thread. The warmth of his face tickles yours. 

"I don't know...can I?" his finger gently prods the tip of your nose in a teasing manner. 

"Please? I'll love you forever..." 

Miguel smiles. "That so? Well I guess there's no question...you don't love me forever already, though?" 

You give a tiny scoff, shaking your head with a fake angry face. “You're lucky I'm a human sushi roll right now or I'd have to get up and fight you for suggesting that I don't love my boyfriend.” 

Miguel smirks. “Who is this ‘boyfriend’ you speak of? He sounds like a real stud.” 

“He is.” You echo his same playful smirk, crossing your arms over your chest. “You should meet him sometime.” 

“Perhaps I should.” Miguel kiss-attacks your face making you giggle, then stands up and gets his keys from the counter. 

“Heyy! My boyfriend will beat you up for that. He gets reallll jealous you know!” 

“Too bad he's not here.” Miguel tsks. I'll be back.” 

“Love youuu.” 

“Te quiero más.” (I love you more)

---

Miguel eventually returns, your favorite drink in a large cup with your ice cubes of choice, your requested smoothie, and your favorite food from the takeout place you both love to frequent. The room is silent except for the TV as you both chow down, bellies getting nice and full. 

Shortly after, Miguel is already back to working on the puzzle while you're leaned back on the couch, completely stuffed. 

“You gonna help?” Miguel asks, the corner of his mouth teasingly pulling upwards. 

“In a sec…God I'm so full.” You sigh and sit up, taking a deep breath, then another generous sip of smoothie. “Okay, now I can.” 

You only last another half hour or so before you start to get tired again, food settled in your tummy and your head cradled in Miguel's lap. 

Miguel’s already done with his half of the puzzle. The image is a little comical as one glance at it makes it totally obvious who did more work than the other. 

Miguel pauses, setting down his puzzle pieces when you give a little yawn and sit up with a tired expression. 

“Someone's sleepy…” Miguel says, giving your cheek a gentle caress with the back of his hand. 

You nod, your head hanging forward a little, still in a groggy haze. “I'm the worst puzzle building partner in the world.” 

“Yes you are.” Miguel chuckles, standing up, helping you up as well, finally scooping you into a bridal style carry when he sees that your knees are weak. “But that's okay… we have all day tomorrow to get it done.” 

You give a little groan and a laugh shaking your head. “Didn’t realize you'd take it so seriously.” 

Miguel chuckles again, carrying you into the bedroom. “I just don't like leaving things unfinished. Besides, I thought this whole operation was your idea, remember?” 

“Oops...” You say with a smirk as Miguel plops you on the bed, a little more playfully than you anticipated. “Hey!”

Miguel just smiles, climbing in on his side. “Enough antics. You better get some sleep now so we can get an early start on it tomorrow morning.”

“Aye, aye captain…” you scoot closer to him on his side of the bed. 

Miguel looks at you warmly, bringing you closer to him in response, letting you hear his heart gently beat in his chest, his scent enveloping you like a hug, making your eyelids flutter. 

“You're so damn cozy, what the hell…” you whisper with a yawn. 

Miguel smiles, leaning forward for just a moment to peel off his shirt, then resuming his position so you can cuddle against his chest again. “Am I really?” 

“Mhmm. So cozy it shouldn't even be legal.” 

“Well. I'll just be your pillow then, how's that?” 

“Thanks cutie…don't tell my boyfriend.” You whisper teasingly, continuing your joke from earlier. 

Miguel yawns and shakes his head, planting a kiss into your hair and closing his eyes. “Your secret's safe with me. No te preocupes…” (don't you worry)

You drape your leg over his hip, pulling yourself closer against his body. Miguel grows warm at the sensation, letting his hand run up and down your waist. “If your “boyfriend's” not here, what's that make me?” 

You look up at him, his eyes have gently fluttered open and he's looking down at you as you both lay tangled up in one another. “My husband, of course.” 

A wider, dazzling smile breaks across his face as he pulls you in for a kiss. “Husband, huh…” 

“Mhmm…” you giggle against his soft lips, letting your fingers gently pull at the curls at the back of his neck. 

He groans as he opens his mouth against yours, letting the kiss grow heavier as your tongues slowly begin to dance. “Why don't you repeat that for me again, baby...?”

You gasp as you feel him roll on top of you, his bodyweight giving you an arousing feeling of being pinned down.

“What, my husband…?” You ask sweetly, arching your body against his, biting your lip. 

“Fffuck…” Miguel holds your head in place as he starts kissing your neck. 

“My husband…” you moan out again, squeezing your thighs around his waist, smirking when you feel his grip on you tighten with even hungrier want than before. 

Somehow, you both didn't end up falling asleep until some time later, sleeping in well past the early morning until you decided on a lazy late morning bath and more coffee.

The fog from the hot water and rich smell of brewing coffee permeated the apartment, puzzle pieces laying temporarily forgotten on the coffee table as sunshine peeked through the blinds in the kitchen windowsil.

----

☀️☕🤎🧩

[deansapplepie]

Can’t promise ya that Sweetheart

Daryl x f!Reader | Established relationship | pos savior war | Dad Daryl | little fluff

Warnings: angst, mentions of cheating (not Daryl, of course), memory loss, Negan, a little bit of violence, mentions of death, killing threat, a little part of blood, pregnancy, mentions of birth, mentions of torturing, mentions of cancer. (If I forgot anything tell me) Minors do not interact, 18+.

A/N: This is a small story based on this dream that I had in the end of the last year. Finally decided to write something about it.

It didn’t go exactly what I had planned because of the dream, but here it is. Also, I wanted it to be a small drabble, but I turned it into a big one-shot.

Another thing is… Daryl and Reader have a 6 year old son, but in no moment I wrote his name in the history. I received a critique about reader’s son in The Spitting Image, so I’m still deciding if I’ll continue with DJ in my Dad Daryl fics, or if it will be only for The Spitting Image and I’m coming up with another name in my other fics. Just to make it clear, I have no intention in changing DJ’s name in The Spitting Image.

When the Greenes found you, the world had already ended. In one of Otis’ hunting leaves he encountered you, all bloody, your hair a mess of dried blood and dirty. At first he thought you were dead, but then you let a small cry and he checked your vital signs confirming you were indeed alive. That day he didn’t go back to the farm with good meat, he took you in his arms and arrived at the house urging for help.

The moment you woke up, your mind was blank. There was nothing there. No memories. At least, you still had the ability of speaking, reading and writing, besides that, not a thing. You didn’t even remember your own name. You didn’t remember the world before dead people started walking. Some people said you were lucky, because you couldn’t miss something you didn’t remember, but most of the times it was frustrating not knowing about who you were.

Without a name or a history, the Greenes soon adopted you, giving you the name Y/N, because they said it suited you and their last name. You liked how Y/N Greene sounded, and you liked the people that took you in and soon made you love them and be part of the family. Everyday was a new day to discover what you liked or disliked, to learn something new and learn who you were.

The group from Atlanta came, and with them also came a lot of trouble and a certain mysterious hunter that refused to leave your thoughts. He didn’t even looked at you, why were you dreaming about him? Little did you know you never left his thoughts too, and that was incredibly annoying. The farm burned down and all of you lost your safe place. You took the road, then you arrived at the prison and with the months passing you grew closer and closer to Daryl Dixon, but you were only friends. Until… after the people from Woodbury joined you and an event brought you two together.

And that was how you ended up like this, married to him, a 6 year old son and one more baby on the way. Now you lived in Alexandria a community that gave you a home again, a small sense of normalcy and where your strange family only grew. You had all been through a lot already… the prison fell, you were almost eaten by cannibals and you had survived a war against a group called The Saviors, which leader Negan killed many of your friends and broke and destroyed your husband. The first time you listened to the name of the worst person you heard of it made you feel something strange, just like if your guts were being pulled by an invisible hand, but you couldn’t tell why. Maybe it was just because he was a sick son of a bitch.

He killed Glenn which was like your brother in law as you and Maggie had become instantly sisters. He killed Abraham the gigantic ginger of a big heart and a mouth dirtier than a sailor’s. And his worst crime, in your heart, was what he made Daryl go through. He tortured, humiliated and broke piece by piece of the man you loved, and that you couldn’t forgive. You never got to see him. That sounds strange, but every time he showed up you wasn’t in Alexandria, the missions everybody went you couldn’t go because of your enormous belly that had the biggest baby you had ever saw, damn Daryl and his genes, that baby was hard to push - but yet here you were carrying another one. In the final battle you had your baby Dixon in your arms, so you never got to see the man. Even after Rick almost killed him, but in the last seconds asked Siddiq to save him.

You never had to see the man you despised and hated so much, until now that you were walking on Alexandria streets going to get his food and deliver it to him. You managed to keep the distance from him the past 6 years and nobody ever asked you to do a thing for him. Maybe because he brought back the memories of what he did to Daryl, or maybe because you agreed and supported Maggie about killing him. But now, you were making a favor to Gabriel, Michonne wasn’t in town and Rosita needed him. So why not? It couldn’t be so difficult, you repeated the steps on your head: handcuff him, open the cell, put the tray on the floor, close the cell and release him. After that you just needed to leave and never look at him again, at least you hoped so.

When you entered the dark room only illuminated by the daily light that came from the small window, it sent chills through all your body and you felt your “little pear” get agitated in your belly. ‘Lil pear’ was the nickname Daryl gave the baby you had in your belly, because he was pretty sure that it was a girl this time. You didn’t have an opinion about it, but you knew he would be happy if it was a sweet little girl like his ‘lil ass kicker’. You put the tray on a chair and before catching the handcuff on your pocket, you caressed your already big belly to assure your baby that nothing bad would happen.

“Never thought you’d ever come to visit me.” You heard his voice and once again it was like someone was pulling your guts.

“Believe me, I tried to come for a deadly visit, but I wasn’t allowed to.” You replied, handcuffs already in your hands. “Hands outside the bars.”

“I know you hate me, but you wouldn’t dare to kill me.” He put both hands outside the cage so you could handcuff him.

“Don’t tempt me Negan, or I may take the offer.” You handcuffed him and now took the key to open the cell.

“You really enjoyed fucking Dixon, didn’t you?” People were right he knew so damn well how to make anyone lose their temper. “A precious sweet little boy the one you have.” You had opened the door.

“Never!” You kicked the side of his leg on the height of the knee, earning a grunt in pain from him. “Never talk about my child again! Don’t even look at him!”

“This isn’t how I raised you sweetie… but I’m glad you can take care of yourself in this world.” You went outside the cage to take the tray of food. “But this isn’t the way you should treat your father.”

You gave him an annoyed look. “My father is Hershel Greene, and he’s dead. So, no way a scumbag like you is my father.” Fuck, remembering Hershel made tears surface in your eyes. Damn, fucking hormones.

You lowered the maximum you could to put the tray on the floor and made a mental note to tell Gabriel you’d never help him in such activities again till the end of your pregnancy. He didn’t know how fucked up it was to squat in that situation.

“Your name isn’t Y/N. Your maiden name was Smith. You have a mole in your back, close to your shoulder. You got a scar on your left knee after you fell from your bike, you were 8…” he said and that stroke you in a way you couldn’t explain. Yes, you had a mole. Yes, you had this scar that you didn’t know how you got since you had no memories from your past. You left his cell and closed the door. “Guess, you aren’t Daddy’s pretty princess anymore…”

At that moment the unthinkable happened, a storm of memories hit you running through your mind and you had to hold yourself on the bars, or you could swear you’d fall. Your childhood. Your teens. Memories of an old life you didn’t had anymore, and the day you caught your dad cheating on your stepmom, the reason why you left them not looking back, because you couldn’t bring yourself to tell her and break her heart, but you also couldn’t look at your father’s face and don’t feel anger. A wave of anger that contained all the last years and now also your memories from the past hit you, and when you realized it, you were with your hands on his collar yanking him towards the bars, his face impossibly close to it.

“What did you do to Lucille?” You yelled at him, from all the things you could have asked or yelled at him, he wasn’t expecting this. “What happened to her?! You gave her name to a fucking bat!”

“I didn’t kill her, if that’s what you’re thinking. Jesus… I couldn’t even kill her turned self.” He confessed. “She had cancer. She discovered it a little after you left… she was still in treatment when the outbreak happened.” And then he told you the short story of what happened and you blamed yourself for not being there for her, she was like a mom to you and you ran away just because you couldn’t tell her your dad was a cheater, but now he was worse, he was a psycho.

You released his hands from the handcuff and stored it on your pocket again. “I’m asking Gabriel to take the tray.” You said, you didn’t even need to tell him anything, but you didn’t know why you said.

“Can you bring the boy to meet me?” He had the audacity to ask. You snorted.

“If it depends on me, he’ll never meet you. You killed my friends, my brother… you tortured my husband, and that sweet little boy had a complicated birth because of what you inflicted in all of us, and do you think you have any right of meeting him?” He could see the tears in your eyes threatening to fall, and his heart clenched just like when you were little and would cry because you were hurt. But you’d not let it happen in front of him. You’d not cry. “If you had remained you, if you hadn’t caused so much pain, this would be a completely different reencounter.”

Once you finished talking you left the small little prison and when you turned to go up the stairs, you saw Daryl up the stairs, the look in his eyes indicating worry. He was probably looking for you, and someone probably said where you were. He saw in your eyes that you were in the verge of crying, you went up the stairs and once in front of him, you urged him to leave the place, you didn’t want him to see you crying.

You entered home, hand in hand and he took you to the sofa, sitting there with you. He put one arm on your shoulders and brought you to rest your head against his chest. “What did he tell you?” He asked and you were sure he was already thinking of a way of destroying the prisoner.

“I… I remember everything, Daryl.” You said, and the tears that you had been holding just fell down. “Negan’s my father.”

He didn’t look surprised, because he wasn’t. He knew it. For years already. Being married with the archer for so many years, made you a little observant like him and in that moment you knew there was something wrong.

“You’re not surprised.” You said, it was an affirmation, not a question. “Did you know?”

He took a deep breath, his hand on your head. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know how was your past with him. I was afraid it was so messed up that you would break if you got your memories back.”

“Did you never doubt my loyalty after you discovered it?” That was a difficult question, that you were not sure if you were prepared to listen to his answer. You weren’t mad at him, you kneel him and you knew he had no bad intentions on hiding it from you and to be honest, deep down you wished Gabriel had never sent you there.

“Wouldn’t have put another baby in ya if I did.” He didn’t want to be coarse, that was just the way he was and when he said that you knew he’d never doubt you. “I’ve been with ya for years, wouldn’t ever doubt you.”

“How did you discover it?” You wrapped your arms around his torso.

Some days after Negan was taken to his cell in Alexandria, he saw something through the small window that he didn’t expected. You. His daughter that had given her back to him many years ago. When the world ended, Lucille had told him to go and look for you, but he couldn’t do that, he needed to take care of her. Months passed and you never showed up at home, he thought you would try to get home if the apocalypse happened, so he just assumed you were dead. He saw you with Daryl and a cute baby in your arms, and that’s how he discovered you were the pregnant wife he had and everyone talked about, but he never got to meet. Also, you were going by a different name. He’d never think it was you. He was a monster, but he was a father, and he was so glad you were alive and well… but he also knew you probably hated him more than anything. Next time Rick visited him, he talked to him and asked to see you. Of course the ex-sheriff didn’t tell you, he told Daryl and that day the hunter had a ‘nice’ conversation with the ex Savior.

“Ya’re not telling her anything, ya aren’t even going ta look at’er or ma son.” He didn’t want to be controlling, abusive or anything of it, but he knew you were better not knowing it. It would destroy you if you knew you were related to a monster. “If ya try anything, a single little thing, I’m gonna kill ya and feed you to the walkers.”

He listened to Daryl, for long 6 years, but he didn’t have many options since he was in his cell all the time and you never came close to it. Everything organized for you to not do so, Rick, Michonne and Carol knew, all of the three knew and would make everything so you didn’t need to have contact with Negan, that’s until the day you decided to do a favor for Gabriel.

“He wasn’t a bad father.” You said when your husband finished telling you what happened. “To be honest, I have mostly good memories of him. A year before the outbreak, or so, I caught him cheating on my stepmom. I ran away, because I didn’t have the courage to tell her and I was so angry at him. I was dramatic and childish.”

“Nah, you weren’t. That was how ya felt, and it’s ok.” He kissed the top of your head and squeezed you in his arms.

“Do you think it would have made any difference if I had stayed?”

“I dunno. There’s no way to know. But one thing I know, we wouldn’t have met, and we wouldn’t have our precious lil boy or our lil pear on the way.” He caressed your belly while talking and he was right… things happened how they were supposed to happen and there was no way you could know if anything would have been different.

Soon the door opened and your little ray of sunshine came running directly to the living room and hugging you and his ‘little sis’, like he was now calling the baby. You thought it was because Daryl would say all the time it was a girl, but he would always say it wasn’t. ‘Kids know these things, they can feel’, he would say.

“Momma, how was your day? Did my lil sis kick a lit today?” He asked with his little face leaning on your stomack and his big blue eyes shining.

“My day was wonderful baby. Little pear kicked just a little today.” You said, your hand on top of your head. “How was school? Who brought you?”

“It was good. Jude brought me.” He said and then he looked at Daryl. “Daddy, you forgot me.”

“I’m sorry little man.” He sat his son on his lap. “Momma needed ma help.”

When he heard you had been sent to take food to Negan, he forgot about everything and ran to get to you. He was so afraid of what could happen that he forgot to take the kids. It was safe, it was inside Alexandria, but either way he needed to be there, to teach your son could only trust you, he shouldn’t go with anybody to anywhere, unless it was people you really trusted.

“Why don’t you go up, put away your things and wait momma to take your bath?” Daryl told the little boy and he went immediately upstairs.

Daryl got up and headed to the hall, you followed him and saw he was ready to leave.

“Where are you going?” You asked, clueless, you had just arrived home and your kid was back.

“Gonna have a talk with Negan.” He said. He was so good at comforting you that you didn’t notice he was boiling in anger. He had told him to not say a thing and he just opened his big mouth!

“Babe, he’s an asshole. We already know it, just let him be. I guess I made everything clear to him.” You tried to soothe him, both your hands enveloping his face.

“I gave him a warning, and still he made ya cry.” He delicately took your hands from his face and walked to the door.

“Daryl, please… don’t kill him.” You had confused feelings, you hated Negan for so many reasons and now at the same time remembering he was your father…

“Can’t promise ya that, sweetheart.” He opened the door and left.

You didn’t know if you believed in God anymore, but in that moment you prayed to whatever force there were that Daryl could calm down and also that none of this mess harm your son and your unborn baby.

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[thoughtsfromlayla]

26 Ways of Taking You: A for Aphrodisiac

Summary: On a quest to save your little brother, you and your fated companion Dream of the Endless, run into a small problem in Aphrodite's Temple.

Notes: ~2.2k words, GUYS! I finally wrote a fic that wasn't below 500 or above 5,000 words, it just doesn't need any random side characters... or a definitive plot.

Warnings: MDNI - 18+, dubious consent, sex pollen, aphrodisiac (duh), porn without plot, unprotected sex (get tested yearly guys), P in V, no foreplay just straight fucking, Dream is a red flag but he's my red flag. I am willing to die on that hill.

⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Next

“A temple of Aphrodite?” You question as you walk through the marbled entrance. The overwhelming smell of roses fills your senses and the honks of swans disappear as you cross into the building.

Morpheus follows closely behind. The drizzle of rain seemingly bounces off his coat and hair leaving him dry like the Sahara. On the other hand, you, the poor human with no otherworldly affiliations, were soaked to the bone. Your light jacket and sundress stuck to your skin until it became itchy and you quickly take off your jacket to dry easier in the momentary shelter. 

You miss the way Morpheus stares at your exposed shoulders and legs. His eyes run up and down your body, to the way the dress sticks to you like a second skin.

“Aphrodite loved Ares, unlike her vowed husband. But such is the game of gods.” Morpheus explains and peels his eyes away from you. 

You lean on a large pillar that supports a large brazier, one of many others. The heat helps you warm up and the shivers slowly leave your body as it dries your clothes. 

“So, Ares is… here?” You say without much confidence.

When the fates set you out on this quest to find your brother, you hadn’t even packed your lunch yet. They just threw you to the wind and then gave you Morpheus as a guide. As for him, it was so “He could get out of the house more” as his older sister has explained it to you. 

So, here you were, soaked in summer rain and sharing conversation with Dream of the Endless on a quest to find your kidnapped brother - all of which happened since this morning. The everything bagel and cream cheese you had for breakfast sat uncomfortably in your stomach, the same stomach that was screaming at you to eat something as your journey had left you to skip the midday meal. 

“Ares is behind this gate created by Aphrodite,” Dream sighs as if he were spelling out the obvious. “Yes, it is a possibility.”

You simply roll your eyes. For someone who is almost infinitely older than you, he certainly didn’t act like it. Feeling warmer and dry you started exploring the temple, running your fingers across the divots in the carved stone much like the climbing ivy that decorated the walls. 

At the end of the temple stood a magnificent statue of Aphrodite herself, wrapped in cloth and her hair flowing in the wind. Beneath her pedestal, you could make out a rectangular outline made out of large roses. 

“Hey! The door!” You exclaim in excitement. As much as you hate to admit it, Morpheus was right. He usually was right but you’d rather keep that comment to yourself, in case the ego inflates any more of his head and he drifts off. Which, would unfortunately leave you on your own to solve these puzzles. 

Morpheus appears behind you, peering over your shoulder at the door. 

“Seems like a hidden mechanism. It would be wise to not touc-”

You press your palm onto the center of the door and it gives away to the pressure of it. 

“You fool!” Morpheus seethes out and you tense. 

It seems like a trap, now that you think about it. With bated breath you wait, slowly inching yourself closer to Morpheus in hopes that the King of Dreams may be able to protect you if something were to go wrong. 

Yet, nothing. 

The door slides back into place, the sound of marble against marble scraping against each other in the otherwise completely quiet sanctuary. The quiet atmosphere stays peaceful for a few seconds but ends when a yelp escapes you when the roses suddenly go into full bloom, the petals giving a “floosh” right in your face, its sweet pollen dusting both of your bodies. You stare wide-eyed at it waiting for anything else to happen. When nothing did, you let out a sigh of relief and turn to Dream with a smile. 

“See, nothing to worry about.” You shrug with your palms facing upwards. The two of you stare back as a golden engraving appears on the door. 

“One from two, enter together.” You read out loud while trying to dust off the shimmering pollen, sneezing when some enter your nose instead. 

Great, a riddle but nothing comes to your mind as you think. Morpheus glares at you still and his eyes drift down to the palm that touched the door. 

“Your hand is glowing,” He states. 

You look down at your open palm and panic. The skin is bright pink and as Morpheus has stated, glowing. You scream at your hand and shake it aggressively. When the glowing still doesn’t reside you scream again and face the palm towards Morpheus’ face and shake it aggressively to grab his attention. 

“Enough,” He commands and grabs your wrist. The grip is stern but it doesn’t hurt and the warmth of his skin calms you down. 

It is now that you realize that the skin doesn’t actually hurt. There’s no burning sensation or pins or needles, nothing. Morpheus takes a closer look at your hand and you can feel the exhale of his breath fanning your palm. It tickles and you try to pull away, but his grip doesn’t relent. 

“What? Do you see something?” You ask, your other hand is clenched in on itself as a way of grounding yourself. 

Morpheus doesn’t entertain you with an answer and instead brings his face closer. A sound that you didn’t know you could produce comes out from your throat as you feel the warm, slick feeling of his tongue on your palm. 

“Wha..mm” Your words fall short and he licks again and a whimper leaves your lips. You look up at him, his eyes are closed as he inhales deeply.

He brings your hand to his cheek and leans into it. When you release your hand and he lets you, you see that your glowing mark has smeared to his cheek. You come in closer, nervous about marking the Endless but he stops you again. He peers at you, all silver gone from his eyes and instead blown pupils pull you deep into their voids. 

His hands find themselves around your waist and you place your hands on his chest to stop him from invading any more of your space. It doesn’t and he advances still. His brooding act doesn’t help with voicing whatever he could possibly be thinking. 

“Hey, what’s gotten into you,” You release a moan at the end when he presses his nose to the junction of your neck. The hot breath released from his mouth had your lower regions start to grow hot and slick. 

When his tongue licks the length of your neck, your fingers grasp desperately at the lapels of his jacket, holding on tight as your knee buckle beneath you. Morpheus smelled like grass after a summer thunderstorm and he stood sturdy like an old oak tree. 

You whisper his name and his grip tightens more, bruising and unforgiving. 

He groans into your neck. “Aphrodisiac.” 

Of course, Aphrodisiac, named after the goddess Aphrodite, the very goddess you are trying to please and solve her riddle. The thought crosses your mind momentarily but it is quickly cut short by Morpheus’ continued administration. The pink stain spreads further on Morpheus, anywhere and everywhere you touch him. Your cheek was pink as well, where he touched yours and markings of his tongue glowed pink as he continued his kisses down your neck and across your collarbone. 

“Oh, gods,” You moan into his hair as he dives deeper towards your chest. Your body is turning hot and you can’t tell if it’s just the aphrodisiac or the way he is touching you. Perhaps it’s neither, perhaps it’s both. Either way, you can’t stop the sounds that escape your lips. 

He presses forward and you step back until your back hits the pedestal and Morpheus’ large frame follows, trapping you between a rock and a harder place. You can feel his erection pressing against your stomach, hot and heavy and begging to be released. 

With restraint, Morpheus pulls back and pants into your neck. Your own breath was ragged, your tongue felt heavy when you speak. 

“Please,” You whisper, your hands travel down his chest, pink smearing along his black shirt, and cup his erection. 

He looks at you now, eyes peering into your soul asking you if you really did want this. You nod, not trusting your voice for a second time. 

“Say it,” He commands again, his forehead pressed against yours. “Say it,” He whispers in a plea. 

You tip your head up and respond with the strength you have left. “Yes,” You murmur against his lips, barely brushing yours with his own. 

He seals the deal with a kiss and hands once again go to your waist. He grabs you, hoisting you up and your legs immediately wrap themselves around his lean torso. You impatiently grind your heat into his as he dips his hands below your dress line and moves your undergarments to the side. 

It was rushed, it was sloppy and it was nowhere near romantic, yet you’ve never felt so much excitement. No one was near but the peering gaze of the daunting Aphrodite statue made you feel exposed. Morpheus doesn’t bother to warm you up for him and the heat of his cock presses against your cunt. He pushes forward and it stings. Tears swell in your eyes at the intrusion, his cock splitting you open as he sets a rhythmic pace. 

“Forgive me, forgive me,” He chants into your ear but the words fly in one ear and out the other. The pleasure the Dream Lord was giving you more important and present in your mind. 

Your hand reaches into his hair and grabs onto his roots. A groan sings from his throat and you can’t help it when your lips connect to his Adam’s apple. You leave bruising kisses along his neck and continuously feel the vibrations of his moans, each one low and gritty. 

Morpheus felt like he was about to lose his mind if he didn’t quickly finish the two of you off. His body felt like it was on fire and his head pounded in his skull with ideologies of fucking you until you were nothing but a pile of pleasure. When your nails grip his shoulders, he welcomes the pain and bites down on your collarbone to suppress his wanton moans. 

You were too sweet for him, a type of innocence that he didn’t want to taint. Tears well up in his eyes as he realizes that he did it without him even knowing. The aphrodisiac completely consumes the two of you. He loved it, the feeling of your legs wrapped around his waist, your grip on his hair, your moans filling the space and echoing around the temple, but were not his to take. 

“More, more, more,” You moan, head thrown back towards the ceiling and he couldn’t deny you the pleasure.

His thrusts become ferocious, slamming into you harder and harder until you were just a babbling mess in front of him. Your words range from his name to curses to simple pleas. The contractions of your cunt spasming around him make him falter for a moment but he presses on. When your orgasm reaches you, your scream is muffled by his open mouth kiss. His thrusts turn sloppy and uneven before he finishes as well and you feel the way his cock pulses within you. His semen drips out of your spent hole and mixes with your release on the polished marble floor. 

Your body deflates as the orgasm finishes and you’re left panting and leaning on Morpheus as your thighs tremble around his waist. The door behind you opens with an ungodly scrapping sound and you look behind you. Lust was still evident in your eyes but you were pulled back to the real world again. 

The aphrodisiac wore off and a blush rose high into your cheeks. You push against Morpheus’ chest not wanting to be in his space, asking him to put you down, but quickly realize that it was a bad idea when your knees buckle and you start to fall. 

Morpheus grabs onto you to steady you and you murmur a thanks, too embarrassed to look at him in the eyes. The aphrodisiac has made you look at Morpheus in a different light, but there were more important matters at hand. You take one steady breath and readjust your underwear and dress, Morpheus releases his grip on your arms as you go to turn towards the open door. 

Beyond the door is nothing but darkness with a slight wind blowing out towards you and the smell of metal and leather comes into your nose. Before you can go, Morpheus’ fingers wrap around your arm again. 

“Should we… talk about it?” He asks in that low voice of his. 

You look back at him, somehow finding the confidence to look at him in the eyes. You find that they are full of adoration and passion that it turns your eyes downwards again. You’ve heard the rumors of what it means to be the lover to Dream of the Endless. It is rainbows and butterflies, the world at the edge of your fingertips, but one wrong move, and you are cast away like you were less than nothing. You think of Nada, Queen of the First People, who is still condemned to Hell for declining his promise to make her queen of the Dreaming. 

It’s too much, you have your brother to save, and there is no room to talk about love. 

“Later,” You say instead. You still need his help and if the promise of ‘later’ keeps him around long enough until the end of your quest, then so be it. 

“Very well. Later,” He repeats then follows you into the realm of Ares.

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This is going to be a 26 part series, all porn, no plot hehe ( ๑‾̀◡‾́)

Until the next fic,

♡ Yours, Layla

[thermodynamic-comedian]

allowing myself one (1) angsty post cuz i already wrote a whole fic about this idea.

so, "the eye as the fear of being outed" this is known. but have you considered "the spiral as the fear of living your entire life closeted"

michael was chosen by the spiral because of how much of his life was marked by madness. his old friend from school, him seeking out the eye as an antidote for his own doubts and confusion, and, finally, the betrayal that led to his death.

but what if helen was chosen by the spiral because of how connected she was to the idea of lying. what if she'd been lying about something her entire life, to the point where her entire life was an elaborate lie, yes, of course i love my job, of course i trust my friends, of course i'll get a husband, just give it a few more years. she lived her entire life like this, and it was never her fault, it was a situation she was forced into. she could never be honest. the spiral marked her an excellent liar.