Tumgik
#i feel so tired and let down by everyone and everything all of the time and it’s like?
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she's mean, and he loves her for it.
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summary: your peers wonder how the ever-so-annoying gojo satoru can stand being in a relationship with you pairing: sunshine!gojo satoru x grumpy!female reader genre: angst, fluff warnings: none
Masterlist
"Did you guys know Gojo-sensei is dating-" Nobara looks around left and right before whispering your name in fear that you might be around.
"Ehhh?" Yuuji's eyebrows knit together. "No way. She's so scary and he's so...happy."
Nobara agrees, "She never smiles -- kinda looks like she has a permanent frown, too. She scares me."
"You think maybe she intimidated him to date her?"
Megumi watches as his two friends bicker about whether you and Satoru look good together, not realizing that you've heard everything they said. Megumi notices you've arrived to teach them and clears his throat, catching the attention of his two friends. He glances at you to check how you're doing after hearing what they said, but as expected, you remain professional and stoic. But Megumi knows better, he grew up under your and Satoru's wings after all.
"Shit." Nobara and Yuuji mutter under their breaths.
-----
It's fairly common for people to question your relationship with Satoru. He's this... happy-go-lucky guy who annoys everyone except those on the same wavelength as him, while you keep to yourself, prioritizing your alone time, and taking things seriously.
Sometimes, too serious.
You never let it get to you, though, because you don't really care what people say. You and Satoru are happy, that's all that matters. Until recently, when those jerk Kyoto students came over to train, they started talking about you and Satoru.
"She's so serious all the time, I don't understand how Gojo puts up with her."
"I think he's scared to breakup with her."
"I bet she's high maintenance."
"Honestly, why is he with her when he can be with someone who's... not so difficult?"
You grit your teeth at that last comment. You can't tell who said what, but it doesn't matter. Their words got to your head and now you're angry. Angry because you're scared they might be right.
Does Satoru think you're difficult? You're not entirely sure how to show them that yes, you deserve Satoru despite being the dark, grumpy person you are.
Sighing, you decide to go home instead of joining the dinner. Satoru's not in there anyway, he just got back from a mission and is waiting for you at home.
Once you close the door to your apartment, you immediately feel Satoru's arm envelope around you from behind. He smells like fresh mint -- just got out of the shower.
"Hi darling," he kisses your cheek.
"Hi, Toru." You take your shoes off and give him a quick peck before making your way to the bedroom to put your stuff down.
Satoru watches you slowly, "hm, aren't you supposed to have that dinner with the Kyoto students today?"
Your jaw clenches, taking a second before shrugging. "Decided to skip it. I'm tired."
He just hums, "In that case, you wanna watch Bridgerton with me after your shower?"
"Again?" You groan, "Isn't it like the third time you've watched it?"
"Yes, and?"
"I'll skip, thanks."
He blows a raspberry and leaves you to shower while he lays down on the couch to watch Anthony Bridgerton fall in love with his Kate Sheffield.
While you were in the shower, the words kept coming back to you. Somehow more exaggerated. You're difficult. He doesn't like you. He's just tolerating you. Why would he be with someone who doesn't even smile? Look at him, Gojo is the epitome of sunshine. You're nothing like him. Why would he like you?
Groaning, you let the hot water wash away your thoughts -- though they don't really go away. Maybe you should just try to be nicer to Satoru, be more cheerful.
After your shower, you see him lying down on the couch while watching his show, and you sit on the other end, silently dreading having to watch the same show again. But you're doing this for Satoru, so you will.
With a satisfied grin, Satoru saunters over and lies down on top of you, his head resting on your chest. You smile softly, enjoying the tight grip he has on you and his soft hair between your fingers.
"How was the mission?" You ask, "Did you have to go to Shoko?"
Satoru shakes his head, "Sweetheart, it's me we're talking about here."
"You can still get hurt, Toru." You pat his hair gently, "I've seen you bleed."
"I'm always careful. Don't worry." He kisses your hand.
You sigh softly. You know Satoru is always careful, it's just that he always goes on missions alone, and more often nowadays that it makes you worry. Yes, he's the strongest, but you never want to take that for granted.
"Toru," You call him again, a little hesitant, "You know I love you, right?"
He lifts his head from your chest, staring at you with those big blue eyes. "Of course. And I love you. So much."
He kisses you deeply, now switching positions so you're lying down on top of him. "So do you want to talk about it?"
"No.." You mumble. Of course, Satoru knows. He isn't stupid. He can sense when something's wrong with you, just like how you can feel the scar on his hip that wasn't there before. He did go to Shoko.
But none of you say anything. You just hold each other tighter that night. It's more than enough.
-----
Satoru is on another mission. It's supposed to be easy, at least that's what he said 3 days ago. You haven't heard from him at all in 3 days and you're beginning to worry. Your frown is deeper than usual, you sigh more often, and your fuse is shorter.
Everyone's more scared of you.
You let the kids take a break while you try to collect your thoughts. You can't be seen so distracted, not when Satoru left you in charge of them.
"You doing okay?" You hear Megumi's voice approach you.
Blinking away the tears that almost fell, you turn around to face him. "I'm fine, Megs."
"I told you not to call me that..." He sulks as he stands next to you, leaning against the wall. He can see you're distraught, and growing up with you, there's only been a handful of times he's seen you like this.
"You know he's going to be fine, right?"
You sigh. "I'm just worried."
You remember once when Satoru didn't come back for a week. He couldn't be reached, no one could track him down, and you were just at home, taking care of Megumi. The boy's more like you than Satoru, he's not exactly sensitive or cheery. But he knows when you're feeling sad, so he'd stay up with you, praying for Satoru's safety.
"Guys!" Yuuji runs towards you and Megumi.
"What is it, Yuuji?"
"It's Gojo-sensei-" He pants, "He's back!"
You run as fast as you can with Yuuji and Megumi, and you can finally see your white-haired, blue-eyed boyfriend limping his way back to the school grounds.
He raises his hand and waves to you with a big smile despite struggling to walk. "Tsk-" You frown even more, feeling the tears pooling again as you walk towards him and catch him in an embrace.
"Umph-" He groans. "Hi, baby."
You let go of him and check his injuries -- he's healed most of it himself, thank goodness, but the bruises are still there. "We need to go to Shoko-"
"Mm, that can wait." He pulls you to sit down on the soft grass, hugging you once again. "It's okay, I'm here now."
You choke on your own sobs and hug him tighter, sitting between his legs and burying your head in his chest. "You idiot."
"'M sorry for makin' you worry," he smiles gently, leaving kisses all over your face.
As you cup his face in your hands, you're suddenly very aware of the 3 pairs of eyes staring at you both. Noticing it too, Satoru covers your red, embarrassed face. "Okay, nothing to watch here. Go.. do something. Scram. Skedaddle."
Once the kids are gone, he chuckles and thinks you're being really cute. "They're gone, sweets."
You glare at his teasing smile.
Satoru wipes away your tears, kissing your frown away. "What took you so long?" You ask after kissing him deeply, not letting him go.
A smirk lingers on Satoru's lips. "I took a detour to Kyoto after the mission to teach some kids a lesson."
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notmyneighbor · 3 days
Text
Let Me In ~ Francis Mosses/The Milkman x Female Reader
Chapter 1
Word Count ~1k
Rating ~ Explicit
CW ~ blood and gore, character death, eventual smut(not in this chapter)
Excerpt ~ You know it’s not Francis peering at you through the glass window.
You know it, even though he looks exactly like him, every feature carefully duplicated: the sleep deprived smudges on the frail skin underneath his eyes, the narrow chin and a long nose, that unblemished complexion as smooth and pale as the milk he delivers.
They’re getting better at the replication.
It’s getting harder and harder to tell them apart from real humans now.
Also available on AO3
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You know it’s not Francis peering at you through the glass window.
You know it, even though he looks exactly like him, every feature carefully duplicated: the sleep deprived smudges on the frail skin underneath his eyes, the narrow chin and long nose, that unblemished complexion as smooth and pale as the milk he delivers. They’re getting better at the replication. It’s getting harder and harder to tell them apart from real humans now.
Yet there’s still something off. Something in the way the flesh sits on his bones. Almost a shift, like a mirage in the desert: a shimmery, not quite real haze that’s there and gone again in the blink of an eye. He lays his fingers against the glass, splayed directly across from your face. The pretender’s lips curve into a smile. “Let me in,” he says, and it’s identical to the real milkman’s voice, that same sleepy, gentle tone you’re used to hearing day in and day out, and your heart lurches. When had it happened? When had he been taken? During a delivery? Lured into some back alley? Some devious doppelgänger asking for help, maybe, and of course he’d obliged, he was kind like that, he’d never refuse anyone. You envision the wire rack cradling the bottles of dairy product dropping from nerveless fingers, the glass shattering. White mixing with the bright red blood that leaks out of him all over the pavement.
You wince at the gruesome image. Poor, trusting, foolish man.
“Let me in,” he says again, and the words drag at something deep inside of you. A glint of something feral in the dark eyes now. This imposter knows you can sense his deception. “I know what you need. I can give it to you…”
Another chord strummed on the string of your spine, vibrating along your body. Had he taken over Francis’ thoughts? Sorting through the milkman’s memories like digging through a box of old photographs, perhaps. Choosing which ones to keep and which ones to discard. Had the unfortunate third floor resident known about your hopeless crush? He must have. How else would this creature target your desires so readily? The knowledge of this wounds you. Francis had known, and he hadn’t acted on that knowledge. No return of your feelings. Maybe he’d just been shy.
Or maybe he just didn’t feel the same way.
“You must be so tired, working so hard. You deserve to rest. Collect a reward.” His tongue darts out to moisten his lips and this is the first foreign gesture that completely confirms your suspicions: this is not Mr. Mosses.
Everything you need is right in front of you. The entryway door is still securely locked. The rotary phone is mere inches away. You can call in the team at any time now. Save everyone. Except for Francis, of course; it was too late for him.
“Sweetheart, please let me in.” Attracting flies with honey. His voice dripping affection. His fingertips blanch against the glass. The brim of his cap slides further down his brow. A single track of perspiration leaks down his cheek. The body still fighting, even now. Resisting. Rejecting the invader. But it was too little, too late.
“I can’t let you in.”
His head snaps up and the eyes are bloodshot, spidery lines of crimson streaking across the white orbs. A thin trail of saliva drips from one corner of his mouth. “Can’t, or won’t?” Straight to vinegar now. Acidic tone. It lashes against you. You’re shaking.
“I know what you are,” you declare in a whisper.
The replicant raises his free hand, fingers curling into a fist before striking the pane. It rattles in its casing and you gasp. You’d always thought the material was shatterproof. “You don’t know anything. How can you? You run unchallenged for a small fraction of years and you think you know all there is to in the universe. Such arrogant, fragile things you are,” he murmurs, and the sudden calm unnerves you even more than the rage.
You begin to reach for the receiver and his fingers slide down the glass, squeaking as they go. “Wait. Don’t do that.”
You pause, hand still outstretched. “I don’t have a choice.”
“You do have a choice. You don’t have to be one of the mindless sheep.” His nostrils flare, inhaling deeply. “Francis loved that fragrance you wear. He liked so many things about you. You’ll never know how much if you make that call.”
You suck in a sharp breath. Was it true? Or just a ruse to get you to spare him? “He’s gone. There’s no getting him back now.” Your voice warbles, your fingers trembling as you reach again. Making contact with the ebony plastic this time.
“He’s right here. You could have him. All you have to do is let me in.”
You lift the receiver from the handset cradle. The spiral cord connecting the two sways like a tightrope beneath an acrobat walking its length. You feel like that performer. Teetering on the edge between life and death. Yours. The people in the building. You have a duty to protect them.
The uniformed man’s eyes slide closed. Dark lashes light as moth’s wings kissing his cheeks. He’s humming softly. A melody you’d heard every time Francis had left for his route. The tune unfamiliar. But it’s his. Had always been unique to him. Why hadn’t you asked what song it was? Why hadn’t you…
The handset drops back down and the dial tone is silenced. His eyes reopen. “Let me in, love.” The softest, sweetest smile. You reach for the buzzer. Staring at your hand as if you don’t recognize it as your own. “I’ll give you everything you want, sweet girl.” Nearly to the button now. “There you go. Just a little more.” Contact. The light flashes and the magnetic locks release, granting the doppelgänger access.
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leilani-lily · 2 days
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~Oh Deer~ (Chapter 7)
Apologies for the delay, life has been a lil busy for me lately. Lots going on, and only more to happen. My introverted battery is crying ദ്ദി ꒦ິ꒳꒦ິ )✧
This chapter's a lil shorter than some of the others, but it's for the best. The next one I have planned is gonna be a 2 parter. And it'll be a whopper. Wish me luck hehe! ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ
Synopsis: AroAce! Alastor x Chef!Singer! Reader. It's time for the daily meeting amongst the hotel staff and guests. You're feeling particularly exhausted, and before you know it, you fall asleep. What you don't realize is what kind of chaos it causes afterwards… Word count: 3.7 k
Chapter under the cut!
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“What if we offad a free bag o ‘Hero-In’ tada first 50 custamers?”
Charlie blinked in bewilderment down at the Spider Demon, not sure if he was actually being serious. The other resident demons either nodded in agreement or weren’t even paying attention to the conversation, blinking tiredly and eyes glazed over. Vaggie groaned in frustration at the apparent lack of brains in this hotel.
“Por el amor de Dios.” she muttered under her breath, dragging her face down with her hand. “Angel. We can’t offer drugs to encourage more guests to the hotel. That goes against, like, everything we’re even doing here.” She gestures to the hotel lobby, where you were all sitting on various armchairs and couches. It was one of your daily meetings where Charlie rounded up all the demons and tried to come up with strategies on how to recruit more sinners. Her and Vaggie were standing before you all, a chalkboard behind them with… some pretty terrible suggestions scribbled on it (and a faded dick drawing done by a certain 8 limbed demon). Said sinner looked around his settings before turning back to the silver haired woman, looking at her in confusion.
“Booze?”
“No.”
“Dildos?”
“Jesus. NO.”
“Blowjobs??”
“FOR FUCK SAKES ANGEL!”
“Whaaaat? Sounds like a good deal ta me! Especially if da blowin’s done by a prafessional like yours truly~!” Angel wiggled his chest fur rather sensually towards Vaggie and threw her a wink. The fallen angel slapped her hand against her face in exasperation. 
Now usually this type of banter would have you practically shaking in your seat trying to hold in your laughter. But this time around, all you could muster was a tired chuckle as your eyes ping-ponged between the two. Your early mornings and long days at the hotel were starting to catch up with you, and today in particular was extra exhausting for you. You had spent most of the night reading, too absorbed in the novel to put it down even though you knew how late it was. And now you were paying the price; all you wanted to do was sleep. But then Charlie called this meeting and now you were stuck here, daydreaming of your bed. 
“W-well Angel, I’m afraid I have to agree with Vaggie on this,” Charlie piped up, awkwardly looking between her partner and friend, “But I am LOVING the participation and enthusiasm! Good job!” She clapped cheerfully to Angel, trying so hard to encourage his good habits, even if his suggestions were questionable. Angel clicked his teeth at Charlie while shooting a finger gun, slouching back into his armchair. The Princess of Hell turned back to the group, her expression a mix of determination and desperation. 
“Alright everyone, what else do we got? Come on, let’s keep the creative juices flowing!”
Other demons' voices droned on in response, but you could feel your brain shutting down as they faded to muffled noise. You were seated comfortably on one of the couches, feeling yourself being swallowed into the cushy pillows. It was honestly really nice being able to sit on this couch in particular, it was the comfiest of all the furnishing here. 
When you had first arrived at the hotel and attended these meetings, you were sitting in one of the armchairs beside Angel. And you had to admit, they were pretty stiff. But at some point, as you and Alastor’s friendship began to grow, the deer demon began inviting you to sit on the couch beside him, and even began saving you the seat before anyone else could take it. What more, would even begin to shoot glares at demons if they attempted to take it before you had arrived.
You had caught wind and scolded your friend for a moment, but he insisted with how much work you were doing, you deserved the cushy spot more than anyone else. And that just so happened to be beside him. You had eyed him suspiciously but didn’t argue further; it really was a nice couch. Now it was just known fact that you and the Radio Demon always sat together, and others didn’t even attempt to sit there anymore. 
Beside you, Alastor watched as your body sank into the couch and brought a hand up to stifle a yawn. His eyebrow quirked up in amusement, but he didn’t attempt to try and keep you awake.  He could tell this meeting wasn’t going anywhere; there was no point in forcing you to participate. Instead, his pupils slid back to the group of demons in front of him. Somehow Nifty and Sir Pentious had gotten into an argument, and Vaggie was yelling over them to shut up and stay focused. Alastor’s smile creaked up eerily, reveling in the chaos unfolding before him. Charlie looked at her business partner, a semblance of despair in her eyes.
“Alastor,” she practically begged, “Please tell me you have some suggestions that we could actually use?” 
Alastor gave a hearty laugh as he waved a hand at her.
“Oh please my dear,” he dismissed, shaking his head and giving her a smug look, “You know very well that I do not participate in such matters. I’m simply here for the entertainment that comes with it~!” He gestures to the three demons arguing in question, as Angel and Husk seemed to be sharing a bowl of popcorn and watched the mayhem. Charlie looked at the group tiredly.
“Besides,” Alastor drawled on, his eyes practically dancing at the chaos before him, “I honestly think-!”
His voice was cut off by the sound of a record player scratching to a halt.
The group of demons that were bickering immediately stopped dead in their tracks at the sudden abnormal sound, their gazes zipping to the Radio Demon. Angel and Husk’s eyes also locked in on the deer demon, a piece of popcorn falling out of Angel’s open mouth.
Alastors was frozen in place as your sleeping form had slumped up against his side. 
The deer demon looked like he was caught in the headlights; His entire face was frozen and eyes wide as dinner plates, smiling mouth still half open in mid speech. His whole body was stiff as a board as his shrunken pupils stared off ahead in shock. 
The room fell quiet enough to hear a pin drop.
Every one of the hotel residents were ready to shit themselves, eyes darting between you and Alastor. Anyone that knew the Radio Demon knew how much he despised physical contact not initiated by him. Husk especially was terrified for your sake, fully remembering Alastor practically ripping demons apart limb by limb simply because they looked at him the wrong way. The gambling demon’s fur began to stand up on his neck. This couldn’t be good.
You sighed in your sleep and nuzzled closer into Alastor’s arm, subconsciously seeking out his warmth. All of the onlookers breathed in sharply, Charlie even covering her mouth with her hands to keep herself quiet. The Radio Demon’s eyes slowly slid down to you, carefully tilting his head to get a better look. His eyes looked over you, pupils sharp and calculating as his open mouth creaked shut and grin tight. Everyone watched in horror, unsure what the Overlord was thinking or what he was going to do.
Alastor’s first instinct was to immediately shove you away. But he quickly pushed that thought aside once coming to terms that this was you. As much as he wanted to peel your body off of his, another part was… intrigued. He had never been in this type of situation before, and moreso, with someone he actually found tolerable. He noticed the dark circles under your eyes and mentally tutted you. It was clear you were more exhausted than he had realized, especially given you had fallen asleep amongst all the commotion. And he knew first hand how early you were up everyday; how hard you worked for this hotel. Hell, you were one of the hardest working ones here, besides Charlie and Vaggie. 
Mentally coming to a decision, Alastor’s shoulders began to soften, his body finally beginning to relax under the newfound weight. Your rest was far more important than this silly meeting that wasn’t going anywhere anyways. His chivalrous nature had ultimately won out.
“Hey uh… Smiles…” Angel stuttered, his voice low and cautious as to not wake you, “Ya… Ya got a lil Puddin’ on ya sholda” He pointed to your sleeping form, his eyes darting nervously between you both. Vaggie immediately zipped to the Spider demon and slapped her hand over his mouth, shooting daggers at him before looking nervously at Alastor. Eventually, the Radio Demon’s eyes slid lazily to the group of anxious sinners, his lips curling up in amusement as he observed everyone’s expressions. If you weren’t sleeping on his shoulder he would’ve relished in their horror. Careful not to move too much, he turned his head back to the group.
“Now then,” he murmured, his voice surprisingly low, “If the three of you finished with your ridiculous squabbling… ” He shot Nifty, Sir Pentious, and Vaggie a dirty look, making the three  cower under his judgemental gaze. His eyes narrowed a moment before turning to Charlie.
“Then I believe we should really get back to our brainstorming. Wouldn’t you agree, Charlie dearest~?”
The goat demon stared at Alastor in surprise, eyes flicking to you before back to him. Her eyes squinted in confusion at the scene in front of her; Alastor… was allowing this? But she quickly shook it off, realizing he was still waiting for her reply. After blinking a couple times, her eyes lit up with joy as her smile overtook her face.
“YES! Yes of course we-!” 
Alastor’s static crackled dangerously as radio channels shuffled in the background. His scarlet eyes flashed red, shooting Charlie a look of warning. The princess immediately covered her mouth, silencing her thunderous excitement. With a quick clearing of her throat, she continued, her voice softer this time.
“Yes. Right. Everyone, let’s continue from where we left off.”
For the next twenty minutes, the group of demons quietly continued their discussion and strategies. Alastor sat in complete silence, his grin casual and hands in his lap as he sat still. Only his pupils moved as his gaze darted between the sinners. You continued to sleep soundly against the Radio Demon’s shoulder, nuzzling even closer to his warmth and even wrapping your arms around his at one point. He only flinched a moment when he felt your arms trapping his, but he made no other movement; no change in expression. 
As the discussion continued amongst the others, the group couldn’t help but glance at you and Alastor on occasion, still in utter bewilderment at the entire situation. He must have been sick… or an ulterior motive maybe? They all secretly had many inquiries, but none of them dared to question the Overlord. Especially with the way he acted if one of them spoke too loudly. The dangerous hum of static would remind them of their place, and the power he held in this establishment.
Finally, the meeting was adjourned by the Princess of Hell, and everyone began to trickle out of the lobby. Alastor could hear the various murmurs of confusion between the demons as they left to go back to their room, but he ignored them. Little whispers between rats were of no concern to him. Charlie slowly approached the couch, eyes darting between the two figures and smiling sheepishly.
“Do you want me to take her?” she whispered, arms outstretched as if ready to take your sleeping form. But the Radio Demon raised his unshackled hand as if to halt her, shaking his head softly with eyes closed. 
“No need to fret my dear,” he reassured, opening his eyes and giving a gentlemanly smile, “I will see to it that our little chef is taken care of.” 
Charlie hesitated a moment, unsure of what exactly was going through her business partner’s mind. But finally, she nodded her head and tip-toed away, meeting her angelic partner at the elevators. Hand in hand, Charlie and Vaggie left the vicinity, leaving you and Alastor alone in the lobby. 
As silent seconds passed, the Radio Demon’s eyes eventually slid down to your sleeping profile, a mix of amusement and slight curiosity crossing his features. You looked so small, so vulnerable and helpless compared to his tall, powerful form. He watched as your shoulders slowly rose and fell with every breath. Your body was warm against his arm, your head heavy on his shoulder as your entire weight pressed on him. It was a feeling foreign to him; he had never had anyone rest on him in an unconscious state. In all honesty, if baffled him. 
No one had ever seemed so… comfortable around him. The group of demons were scared out of their wits for your safety because of the stories they’d heard. And they had a right to be scared. He was the Radio Demon after all. An all powerful Overlord and a force to be reckoned with. He could strike fear into the heart of any creature, make them fall to their knees and beg for their lives and for his forgiveness. There were only a certain handful that could match his power, and even then that number was dwindling (he would make sure of it). He was a terror. A killer. A living nightmare. And yet…
Here you were, sound asleep on his arm, peaceful and unaware of the position you were in.
Your fingers twitched under his bicep, eyelids fluttering a moment before you stilled again. Clearly you were dreaming about something, and it made Alastor wonder what was going on in that little mind of yours. What was it you dreamed about? Perhaps reliving your life before you descended to Hell? Or maybe… Reliving a memory of when you had spent time with him? Alastor rolled his own eyes at that last question, yet his pride couldn’t help but wonder. Would it be obscured of him to think he could occupy a spot in your mind? 
You stirred a moment against his arm, and Alastor was immediately taken out of his trance. Your face twitched a moment, before scrunching up as if in disgust. Alastor had to catch himself at your expression. Your face eventually settled back into a relaxed state, but a soft, low chuckle still managed to escape the demon’s lips.
Yep. Definitely a dream about him.
Shaking his head mirthfully, 2 long tentacles of shadow began to rise up from the floor. Ever so gently, the shadows lifted your head and body off of Alastor, allowing the deer demon to carefully remove his imprisoned arm from your grasp and stand up. He took a moment to stretch his neck and roll his shoulder around, the stiffness of not moving for nearly half an hour catching up to him. Finally, he turned back to you, still sleeping soundly and being cradled by his shaded tendrils in bridal style. A thought crossed his mind as he looked over at you, taking a moment to evaluate his next move. 
He could very easily snap his fingers and have you transported to your bed. Or have his shadows carefully carry you to your room while he trailed behind. But somehow, despite all of the options he had debated on, he found his arms slowly reaching out underneath you and pulling your body close to his. You immediately curled up closer to him and his warmth, making the Overlord stiffen a moment. But finally, he began to saunter towards the elevators, his shaded tentacles slipping back into the floor.
Of course, being the Hotel’s Facility Manager, he knew exactly where your room was. And obviously, he had a spare key. Using his shadows to unlock the door, he carefully opened the door and stepped inside, stopping a moment to take in his surroundings. He had never actually been in your room before, and he was surprised to discover how fascinated he was about it.
Naturally, it was washed in a deep maroon colour like every other room in this building. It was mostly clean, save for a few articles of clothing scattered around the floor. He simply chuckled softly to himself.  Honestly, what was he going to do with you… 
Your odor was faint in the room, but was still picked up by the demon thanks to his heightened animalistic senses. He took a moment to breathe it in, shocking even himself at how he enjoyed the smell. Like the scent of spring after a chilling, heartless winter, mixed with your own natural musk. He quickly shook his head from his thoughts, suddenly feeling disgusted in himself and his barbaric impulse. 
He noticed an old record player in the corner with various records tucked away. He sauntered over and peeked at the various discs, using his magic to lift them to his face and inspect them. He was impressed with your mix of genres, not at all surprised by the jazz music, but also intrigued by your interest in classical, old fashioned rock and roll, and showtunes. He hummed contently to himself, realizing he could learn a thing or two about you by the contents in your room. And oddly enough, he wanted to learn more. 
Call it the hunter in him. 
You had a large bookshelf similar to his, and he took a moment to browse the titles you had. Mainly cookbooks, which were of no surprise to him, but there were mixes of fantasy and romance as well. 
Romance. Ugh. 
Alastor practically rolled his eyes at some of the disgustingly cheesy titles. How people, women in particular, found this entertaining was beyond him. Especially those who would write about it. 
Pathetic.
Still, he couldn’t help but wonder what it was that made them so popular to begin with. And if they seemed to be something that you in particular enjoyed, then perhaps… he would be willing to give it a second chance. 
One book in particular caught his eye, sticking halfway out from the shelf. Most likely the one you had finished most recently. A green hue pulled it off the shelf as he flipped it open and pursued the contents. After reading a couple sentences, he felt himself stiffen; his eyes widening and smile growing uncomfortable. 
Were all romance novels nowadays so… sultry? He knew sexual activities were popular for most beings. But for Hell’s sake, the novel was practically filth. Instinctively, the book became engulfed in a green flame, burning in seconds. Alastor watched the fires fizz out, ashes of what once was your novel now fluttering and disappearing into thin air.
Hm… hopefully you wouldn’t notice it missing. 
He was learning many things about you with his little scavenge through your room. Things that he found oddly charming. Others he found… debateable. Nevertheless, one good thing could be said about the secrets he had discovered. The Radio Demon’s grin began to widen deliciously at the thought.
He could so use this information against you in the near future. 
You murmured softly against his chest, causing the demon to focus back on you and away from his scheming thoughts. As much as he would’ve loved to continue to snoop around, he knew he had to finish what he had originally come to do. 
With a sigh of contentment, he proceeded to walk to the edge of your bed, once again using his emerald magic to pull the covers back. As gingerly as he could, Alastor lowered you to the bed and carefully removed his arms out from under you. Your one hand had somehow clutched onto the lapel of his jacket, causing him to chuckle before gently unfurling your fingers from his suit. Finally, you had settled in the bed and curled up on yourself, already missing the heat from Alastor’s body. Long, clawed fingers grabbed at the blankets by your feet and pulled them up to your chin, making sure every inch of you was covered and enveloped in the sheets. 
You sighed in your sleep as he pulled his hands away, and Alastor took a moment to take in the sight. Even throughout the meeting, and with all the movement of him picking you up and walking around, you had remained fast asleep. It had simply proven how fatigued you were. His mind flashed back to his mother, remembering how tirelessly she would work to provide for the family, and the many nights when he would catch her sleeping at the kitchen table, bills and notices scattered around her. How helpless he felt as a child, not able to do anything to ease her workload or stress.
He looked down at you, eyes flickering over your sleeping form and feeling something stir inside of him. He couldn’t be there for his mother, not as a weak, impotent child. But he was grown now. And he was strong; practically a God with the power he held over Hell. And he would make sure to repay the debt he owed, one way or another. 
His hand reached out and paused for a second, as if debating. But something urged him on, and his hand found its way to the top of your head. He began to gently pet your hair, feeling the tendrils slide between his fingertips. You hummed in your sleep, causing the deer demon to flinch and ready to sink into the shadows. But then you sighed contently and subconsciously nuzzled your head into his hand, a soft smile curling up before relaxing again.
Unbeknownst to Alastor, his ear twitched. 
He had to stop his own grin from creeping up higher on his face as he continued his previous motions, feeling his body relax and eyes soften. He continued the gentle caresses, embracing the peaceful silence and watching your chest rise and fall with each delicate breath. Eventually, Alastor had felt like he had overstayed his welcome, and slowly removed his hand from your head. As your hair tumbled through his fingers and fell to the pillow, he couldn’t help to lean over and whisper in your ear.
“Sweet dreams, my little songbird~”
He quietly stepped away from your bed, taking a moment to pick up your scattered clothing around the room before placing them in the laundry hamper nearby. And with a final peek to your sleeping form, the Radio Demon’s smile curled up ever so slightly before carefully shutting the door behind him.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Y-yeah Alastor... Those romance writers sure are pathetic... pff... pffffft (; ̫ಠ ̫U ̫ಠ ̫ ̫; ̫) We do love a self deprecating joke around here k'know
FIRST PREVIOUS NEXT (Coming soon)
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woniefull · 2 days
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we can't be friends
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hi guys!! this is my very first piece of writing! constructive criticism is always welcomed. please don't mind any grammatical/spelling errors. i wrote this at 2 in the morning and just wanted to do something fun. i still have a lot of room for improvement but i hope you guys enjoy!
warning: little angsty
song: we can't be friends (wait for your love) - ariana grande
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he was the sweetest boy to you when you had first met. his puppy eyes, gorgeous smile, and brown fluffy hair were what drew you in. his flirty words towards you, and only you, had you captivated in a heartbeat. 
that’s why you couldn’t believe what was unfolding in front of you right now.
“oh god please don’t start.” jake groaned as you stared at him with angry eyes. or was it hurt? he couldn’t tell. 
“i’m not starting anything! if anything you are! why are you still talking to your ex after the countless times she’s crossed the boundaries in our relationship? i’ve told you how i feel about her!" your voice croaked and you felt helpless.
you had always tried your best to not be that jealous girlfriend everyone hates. but how could you? jake was attractive and every girl tried to get at him. it didn’t help that he was oblivious to the advances the women around him would give. that’s why you would get angry, but never at him. 
“how many times do i have to tell you that she came up to me? i was just being polite by having a conversation with her”.
jake was sitting on the couch now. his hands covering his face, unaware of the tears forming in your eyes.
it always came down to this. you voicing your problem with jake entertaining other girls and him trying to reassure you.
trying.
you both were growing tired of the constant arguing. 
“jake she was pushing herself all up on you and you just stood there! can you imagine how that made me feel? watching my boyfriend have another girl's hands all over him as if she were the girlfriend?” you were hurt. it hurt. all of this hurt. you knew this wasn’t your boyfriend’s fault. he had always been a gentleman, one of the many qualities you loved about him. but his next words made you second-guess yourself.
“that’s just her character, doll. she’s always been like that from the moment i met her. this jealousy thing of yours really needs to stop, it’s not cute anymore”. jake almost immediately regretted his words as he saw your reaction. he knew he was wrong.
“you think i do this to be cute? am i joke to you?” you cried out.
you don’t remember when everything went wrong. you don’t remember the last time you felt secure in your relationship. maybe you weren’t ready for all of this. 
“no, love i’m sorry i didn’t mean that” jake said as he quickly got up and made his way towards you.
“i’m so sorry, i just had a difficult day that’s all”. he slipped his arm around your waist and used the other to wipe your tears away.
“jake”
he looked at your eyes.
no
“whatever you’re about to say please don’t” jake pleaded.
“jake i just think we aren’t ready for this. for us”. you started to sob again. 
“i think we need to let each other go. we need to grow and learn to understand ourselves before we can understand each other".
“please” jake said as he dipped his head into your neck.
you let him stay there for a while before you detached yourself from him. it was hard to because jake wouldn’t let go. he knew it would be a while before he held you again. 
“i’m sorry jake, i really am” you said with a small smile, trying your best not to completely break down again. 
“no i’m sorry, this is all my fault.”
“we both had fault in this jake, don’t blame yourself.”
you both stood there for a moment, observing each other. it was as if you guys were taking in your last moments together. 
“i’m leaving now jake”. you wasted no time in collecting your things in order to head to the front door. 
“thank you for everything, really. i know things didn’t end how we wanted them to but some of my best memories were with you. thank you jake”. 
jake just stood there, still in disbelief at how quickly things had unraveled. 
right as you were about to walk out he calls to you.
“can we still be friends?” a little hope is visible in his eyes. he hopes that you say yes so that he’s able to see you again.
“we can’t be friends”. and just like that you were gone. the only evidence of you ever being there was jake’s broken heart.
i’ll wait for your love jake thinks as he slowly walks over to the sofa and slumps down.
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gyuvxx · 2 days
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Light ⋆☀︎。
Riize as Wave to Earth
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Osaki Shotaro x Reader
Fluff, tooth rotting fluff. Don't show this to ur dentist. no real warnings, just a lot of cuteness.
WC: 500 smth
synopsis: In which Shotaro loves his girlfriend a whole lot.
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Shotaro Loved his girlfriend. He told just about everyone, he never missed a chance to bring her up, to talk about his beloved YN. 
His friends teased him for it, but he didn’t mind. He liked talking about her, he liked telling everyone that he was her boyfriend, or all the little details about her that he loved so much. Even she teased him for it. 
“I’m starting to think you have a crush on me,” She told him one day, looking up at him with the smile he liked so much. 
They had been dating for two months at that point. Shotaro could only smile. 
“I have such a big crush on you,” he told her, wrapping his arms around her waist. “How could you tell?”
How could he help himself? Not only was she adorable, but she was sweet, the sweetest girl he’d ever met. She always cared for him, even when they were just friends, she made him feel valued, loved. When they got together, he thought it was the best day of his life. Soon enough, he realized his life would only get better. 
When he first confessed his love, and she said it back, he decided he’d do everything in his power to keep her. To keep his light.
They sat on his couch together, his arm wrapped lazily around her shoulder, pressing his cheek against her arm. She Kissed his forehead, smiling as their TV show played. Neither of them were really paying attention to the plot, really just enjoying their cuddle time. 
YN’s eyes threatened to close every moment, sleep creeping up on her as Shotaro wrapped his arms around her. His gaze was fixed on her, looking over at her sleepy figure with a smile. He felt his own need for sleep creeping up on him, trying to keep his heavy lids open, trying to look at his pretty girlfriend even more. 
She snuggled into him more, letting her eyes fall shut, as shotaro adjusted around her, rubbing her shoulder gently. 
“You’re so pretty,” he whispered into her hair. All he got back was a little hum, YN was too tired to really say anything back. He knows she would’ve called him pretty too. “Have I told you how perfect you are?” 
“You told me this morning,” She sleepily replied, a little smile on her lips as shotaro wrapped his arms around her, resting her head against his chest. 
“I just want you to know,” He mumbled, lips brushing against her ear before he kissed her cheek. He heard her soft hum. “I love you,” he told her, it was probably the tenth time he’d said it in the past hour. 
“I love you too,” she mumbled, sleep close to overtaking her. 
“I love you more,” he whispered against her skin. “So, so much,” his voice was muffled, she barely picked up on what he said, close to falling asleep completely. He knew this, and picked her up gently, wrapping his arms around her carefully and carried her to their bed. 
He laid her down carefully, seeing her sleep-heavy eyes looking up at him, a little smile spread across her cheeks. He draped a blanket over her, before climbing in next to her, and snuggling up next to her. They fell asleep in each others arms, dreaming each other into the morning.
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First chapter is out!! these are just gonna be little short stories I think fit the members of riize! upload schedule should be every Tuesday and Friday!
RIIZE as W2E masterlist ₊˚.༄
taglist: @oftenjisung , @vhuteryh , @skzhoe4life , @cheederzchez , @so-lychee
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waywardsalt · 1 month
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ive spent like 20 minutes trying to world this eloquently but i give up; im a big fan of linebeck just. not being capable of watching over kids not the person to be the guardian of a group of young people he struggles to take care of himself at times and has so much shit going on that it takes about one conversation with oshus for the old man to realize that this guy is. not doing great
#this was gonna be like. a jokey post at first juxtaposing oshus’ expectations vs reality with linebeck but im too emotionally drained#so real linebeck talk in the tags bc idk if ive actually talked much abt like. the specific as on why. iwrite and see him the way i do#likr. off the bat i put him at like 19 in ph and im too fucking tired and just. done rn to justify that like whatever kill me if you wish.#like. hes. been throught a lit hes been abused neglected used ignored hurt ridiculed violated deceived hes so fucking tired#hes worn down over the course of ph it causes him to finally like. express his anguish over what hes been theough its cathartic#hes getting pushed but talking to oshus and being around link loosens him up and he fucking. cries properly yknow#he cries about everything and the last bit of ph hes kind of an emotional wreck but hes finally letting himself feel all that shit#he cries he struggles to articulate himself he has a violent public meltdown as he becomes fed up with his reputation#and it all culminates in bellumbeck just. being a really raw examination of what hes been through and how he feels and what to do now#he hates people he has people he wants to kill people he wanted to kill but after bellumbeck its just. hes tired. hes processed everythjng#and then he needs the post ph crew and everyone they meet along the way to just. be a fucking support system for the first time ever#like post ph hes rhe captain he runs the ship he keeps everyone in line he can do that. but hes softer more vulnerable more self doubting#hes kinder and more hesitant but trying new things and being more openly passionate abt his interests#and he keeps working through his trauma he finds out what else it causes problems for and everyone. supports him#hes not capable of like. being any kind of parental figure to link in ph his perspective on like. how to handle kids is fucked#because his perspective on what a normal childhood should look like is kind of a mess#his perspective on relationships is murky on love on adventure on self expression but post ph hes just. free. tired but free#he manages to take naps the group helps him eat properly he learns his physical boundaries and actually does what he loves#idk. im just. man idk. its still measy but like. my version of linebeck is. i really hate the idea that its so out of character its not him#like. idfk what to even say abt that. idfk what ‘in character’ looks like when you hc a character to be masking in canon#when you hc them to be lying and covering things up and just. subdued bc theyre working on stuff#that they lie and exaggerate their own traits on purpose but let the truth through some cracks like what rhe fuck then#i hate it bc i dont see anyone else think of linebeck anything like this so im scared im fucking wrong somehow#im tired. i recently learned that one of my cats has been burrowing under and chilling under a blanket we cover a couch with#its very cute
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bylertruther · 1 year
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thinking about how lonnie only ever cared about will when he died and that was just to profit off of his death + will giving a girl he doesn't know his toy truck just because she's crying and he thinks she needs it more even if he knows joyce can't buy him another one + one of the very first things will did upon waking up in the hospital was ask if jonathan was okay + will telling them to close the gate in season two even though he's part of the hivemind and that would've killed him, too + will breaking his own heart by confessing his feelings and giving mike the painting he's spent so long on but saying that all of it came from el thus sacrificing his own wants and self to again help others + how that same selflessness and self-sacrificing nature of his is going to undoubtedly rear its head in season five again because he's at the center of it all and it all goes back to him and vecna is a creature that feeds off of n fans the flames of pain and guilt... feelin very scared n anxious in this chili's tonight over this actually 😳
#he is NOT going to die obviously clearly we know this they're not killing kids#BUT.#i'm just saying.... i don't think it would be crazy for him to feel guilty and like maybe this wouldn't have happened if...#well... u kno.. :(#he would never give up bc that's literally his whole thing that he's a fighter and a survivor#but. he does love his friends and his family. and he has been willing to die if it meant saving them before so like. yanno.#BUT IT WON'T HAPPEN I'M JUST SAYING THE ANGST IS LIKELY GOING TO BE THERE#AND THEN OFC EVERYONE IS GOING TO BE LIKE ARE YOU FUCKING CRAZY WILLIAM SHUT UP SIT DOWN AND GO TO TIME OUT#and then we'll get some good n scrumptious hurt/comfort ok no one stone me i'm knocking on wood ok i Kno#just imagine will proposing that and everyone immediately says NO and mike especially gets pissed#because he's SICK and TIRED of fucking losing will every single time he thinks he's got him back#and god dammit he's already seen what life is like without will there he's not going to do it again he's NOT#don't go where i can't follow + crazy together + it was the best thing i've ever done + it's hawkins it's not the same without you#versus closegate + el commissioned it + she needs you and she always will#mike who is clutching onto will for dear life unwilling to let him go and will who is all too willing to#walk through the gates of hell if it means saving everyone he's ever loved and putting them out of their misery#but of course there's a better plan and letting will die is like killing a puppy it's like taking a sledgehammer to the foundation of#everything yanno. without heart we'd all fall apart n u can't beat the darkness without the light#anyway. can u tell i'm procrastinating editing my fic rn n thats why im writing epic poems in these tags <3#mine
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fvckmyaesthetic · 1 year
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#can’t sleep. feel sick. feel empty and sad all the time. say i’m lonely and then purposely avoid talking to people#like genuinely. wtf is my problem dude??#i feel so tired and let down by everyone and everything all of the time and it’s like?#shit ain’t even that bad in the grand scheme of things. but I really still just wish I could get a ‘break for once’#why am I so stuck on the ideas of certain people who will never be the way that they were when I actually knew them#and why can’t I just be upfront with people about how I feel. so many ppl think so highly of me for Who Tf Knows Why Honestly#and it’s like. for the love of god please just go find someone else because I Promise you that I’m not going to magically fall in love +#+ with you someday. I have too many fucking problems as it is that I couldn’t even stay with my lady gf for more than a few months#why can’t I just get my shut together Jesus is it really that hard??#if I’m tired and sad then why do I stay up? why wouldn’t I just go to sleep. all I’m doing by staying awake is making myself feel WORSE#and I already feel bad enough as it is. everyone is moving forward with their lives and I’m just sitting here#No fucking clue what I’m doing. no one to talk to. i swear all I want is a good hug sometimes and I can’t even fucking get that#how hard is it to just ask someone for a hug and I can’t do even that??#please tell me I figure my shit out soon and learn to talk to other people because I’m so tired of forcing myself to be so alone all th#e time. i spend so much time awake at night and for what? so I can just make myself feel sad and lonely and anxious?#yeah well I’m tired of it. I’m tired of being awake and alone and not having anyone to talk to because I push everyone away
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parameddie-a · 1 year
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inkskinned · 10 days
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okay if you're really cool about things, i can be honest with you. before you read further, decide if you're a girl's girl. if you're cool and actually cool or like not cool.
men don't talk in my book because i was fuckken tired of the way they're the center of every fucking story. i was tired of how every story takes a moment to let them talk. men can shut up for literally one fucking book.
unfortunately not everyone is cool. professionally what i usually say is i didn't want to add violence to the world. the only men in my book are abusers, so they don't get to talk. they don't get to take up space. they ruined my life, they don't get to have their words echo anymore.
because like, yeah! you find practically any story about a person surviving trauma and... there's a man at the center. men are often rescuing us from these things. a "good man" is always standing around, being a good man, proving to the victim that good men are the real men. that her experience was unique rather than universal.
the redacted text has not been taken well by all of my early readers. there is this weird, crouching growl that keeps occurring with men-of-a-certain-age. why don't we hear his side of the story?
when i sat down to write everything that happened to me, i couldn't look at the frank brutality of my abuser's words on a page and think to myself: i actually let him speak like that. i had to redact his words from the manuscript. i then left it redacted. no victim is going to read this book and hear the person who hurt them. it is a book for the victims to speak. abusers shut up challenge, forever. for eternity.
my father once told me, chuckling, i should just have a page of redaction where i let the man just finally talk. it is funny to joke about how we should make a whole page in my book about a man that hurt me. this was not the only time someone commented - it feels like you're hiding things. how do i know you're actually a victim if he doesn't get to speak?
there are books where women aren't even present. i even genuinely like some of those books. like, who doesn't like the hobbit?
i keep running into people defending this imaginary man. the default narrative is so true to some people that they will defend any man, just by virtue of the assumption - "if he's acting like that, you had to push him." certain people need definitive proof that you didn't accidentally make your partner into an abuser. they need to decide if you deserved it, because they want to be able to judge you.
which makes sense, i guess, from a hind brain perspective. if you can figure out "why" someone was cruel, you can protect yourself against it. if you defend the bully, the bully might side with you. i don't really know their explanation for feeling this about a character in a book. trust me, i wrote the guy. he is not going to protect you.
i guess i just - there was a time in my life where i desperately wanted anyone to defend me. where i could have really used someone saying holy shit are you okay instead of what did you say to make him act like that to you.
instead, over dinner, a friend-of-a-friend i just met is pouring herself wine. i heard you wrote a book, she says. she gives me the kind of chilly smile i associate with knives. i heard it's unfair to men.
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bayjaruchel · 5 months
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Underneath The Strobe Light
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---
Pairing: Mike Schmidt (2023)/AFAB Reader
Rating: Explicit
Summary: You're aware of your feelings for Mike, but you're unsure if he feels the same. A single late-night conversation changes everything. (4.2k | originally posted on ao3 | Masterlist )
Extra Notes: Posted October 29, 2023
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You know Mike, sometimes. Mainly in bits and pieces. 
You know he has that poster of Nebraska above his bed; you know he's got a soft spot for terrible eighties cartoons. You know he likes his steak well done. Maybe it's generally useless information — but you've tucked it all away in a dear corner of your brain, in a well-worn cardboard box with his name scrawled fondly on the side in Sharpie. 
He's been busy nowadays, especially with his awful new job at that abandoned restaurant. You've always been there if he needs someone to watch over Abby. It's a strange juxtaposition— spending more and more time at his house, but spending less and less time actually talking to him. But you know he's exhausted, both mentally and physically. 
You don't expect much. You don't need much. Even though Mike's always offered to actually pay you for babysitting Abby, you've always declined. 
However— needing and wanting are two very different things. 
And you want. So, so much. 
Sitting here, on the couch in his living room, your mind always wanders back to him. Abby's a really nice kid, even if she's a little on the eccentric side. Whenever you're sitting with her, watching her draw or watching the television, you can't really focus on Mike. But now, with her safely put to bed … There's nothing to stop you. Nothing to distract you from the empty spot next to you on the couch. 
You blink, already bleary-eyed from the hour. There's some mediocre sitcom playing on the television. It's practically white noise, and you can feel yourself slowly but surely being lulled to sleep. The stubborn part of you wants to fight it. The tired part of you wants to just let it happen. You fumble for the remote instead, switching the channel. 
World News Now? 
Not bad, you think wryly, slumping back into the pillows. You liked the guy playing the accordion and singing about the news, polka-style. Hopefully they'll bring that back. Maybe large broadcasting networks actually do know their audiences. 
Yeah, no. 
You stifle a yawn, tugging your blanket a little tighter. The room's dark, so the only real sources of light are coming from the kitchen and the bluish glow of the television. The only sounds besides that of the T.V. are the occasional car passing by, joined by the gentle chorus of crickets. It's quiet, but not in a discomforting way. 
It's kind of perfect. Like your own little bubble in the world. Untouchable. Not until the sun rises, anyway. 
Your bubble suddenly pops when a car pulls into the driveway, tires crunching on the pavement, and your heart skips. 
It couldn't be anyone else. 
About a minute later, there's the sound of keys turning in the lock. The door swings open and then shuts behind him. Softly. He knows Abby would wake up if he slammed it. Then there's the thump of him setting down his stuff— carelessly. 
The couch cushions squeak a little when Mike sits down next to you. Silently. He's gotten rid of that stupid security vest. 
"Hey," you offer. 
"Hi," he obliges. 
You're sure he's not really paying attention to the T.V. "How was work?" 
It's bland small talk at best, and brutally annoying at worst. But it's the only way to move into interesting conversation territory. And he didn't just trudge past you to go flop down on his bed, so you're assuming he does want to talk. You might pretend not to know, but you're well aware of his social life— or lack thereof. Everyone needs to talk, sometimes. 
"Pretty dull." Rolling his probably stiff shoulders, he lets out a small sound of discomfort. Sheepishly, he murmurs: "I kind of … I kind of just napped, to be honest." 
"Aren't you supposed to be a security guard?" You tease. "That's a really important job, you know. You have to stop all the dangerous teenagers from breaking in and spray-painting dicks on the walls." 
He huffs out something reminiscent of a laugh. "Honestly, the pay's too low to take it seriously." 
"And yet … " 
"There weren't any kids, okay?" Mike shakes his head. When you turn to look at him, though, he's smiling. It's faint, but it's there. "No dangerous teenagers that I had to fight off. It was fine." 
"Fine?" 
"Fine." 
You don't want to let the silence set in. 
"Oh, yeah, we finished the leftover spaghetti earlier. For dinner. I hope that's okay." 
"No, it's terrible," he deadpans. "I hate you." 
"Asshole." 
"Whatever." Mike snickers, and you bask in its gloriousness. "Yeah, it's okay. I know that I probably wouldn't have eaten it anyway. Did you, uh … " He pauses for a split second. "… Did you like it?" 
His tone makes you wonder, but you hastily brush it off. "Yeah, I did," you clarify, "the sauce was pretty great. Was it store-bought, or?" Because if it was, then where can I get it?
"Yup," he replies, popping the 'p'. "Great stuff, for something that's canned. But I always add a little more garlic powder, too." 
"Oh, really?" 
Mike hums an affirmation. "It's like magic, I'm telling you. Doesn't even take a lot to add flavor." 
"That's cool." You rustle with your blanket again, adjusting it more out of habit than anything else. That, and it's kind of cold. "I'll try and remember it for later." 
He's almost cheeky when he speaks. 
"It's life-changing." 
You can't help but snort. "You sound like an addict." 
Incredulously, he glances at you. "To what? Garlic powder?" 
"Pretty much, yeah." 
"I can't believe that you'd say that." He slowly shakes his head, for the second time in the span of roughly a minute. "Especially as someone who's experienced it firsthand—" 
"—you're the one talking about how life-changing it is—" 
"—you can't possibly ignore the irresistible savoriness of garlic powder." 
You look at one another for a moment. The sheer absurdity of the situation sets in all at once. And, well. He starts giggling, and you can't hold it in, either. How could you? Even though he looks at least part zombie, his eyes are still very much alive. Despite the blatant awkwardness and lingering shyness that always follows him around, he's still got a very contagious laugh.  
After you both calm down, he lets out a long sigh. 
"It's getting really late." 
You cling to what little stubbornness remains. "Yeah?" 
"Are you gonna head home?" 
Again, there's something there. Despite his nonchalant attitude, it's almost like— 
—but you're probably overthinking. Wouldn't be anything new. He has to get some rest, and so do you. The drowsiness repeatedly threatening to tug your eyelids closed is a testament to that. Normally, you'd just pass out on the couch or something, and take off early in the morning; before Mike and Abby wake up. But now, it's different. Now, you actually have to make a choice before your sleepy body makes it for you. 
"Um." You rub your eyes again. "I mean. I could, if it's bothering you—" 
"It's not." 
He interrupts you so quickly that it catches you off-guard. It seemingly catches him off-guard, too, judging by the way he promptly averts his gaze and pretends to care about the guy on the television going on about some sort of plumber strike in the city. 
"Oh." You need a second to process. "Oh, okay. Well, in that case … I don't really think that it'd be safe for me to drive right now." You laugh, a little too airily for it to be completely genuine. "I'd probably fall asleep at the wheel or something." At least that's the truth. "I'll just take the couch. As usual." 
"Okay," he says. He's back to murmuring. 
"And I'll be gone before you eat breakfast." Subconsciously, you're fiddling with the slightly frayed edges of the blanket. It's well-loved. "As usual." 
You think you hear him suck in a breath, seconds before: 
"Why don't you stay?"  
Your own breath stutters in your chest. 
"... what?" Is all you can manage, without horrifically humiliating yourself. 
"I mean," he rushes to correct himself, "you come by sometimes because you want to spend time with Abby— she likes you a lot, you know, sometimes I think she likes you more than she likes me . I think—" He's properly nervous now, his knee bouncing up and down. But he's already continuing before you can get a word in. "I think she'd like you to be here in the morning. And you don't accept pay, anyway. You just— won't." 
His nervousness is spreading to you. "Hey, I—" 
"Why are you here, anyway?" 
The question sounds like it's been a long time coming. He's demanding you now, brow furrowed and eyes sparking with emotion. "Is it out of pity? Do you feel sorry for me? Do you feel sorry for Abby? Because if you do, then— then you can just—" 
"It's not!" You exclaim. 
Immediately, you realize that there's a sleeping girl not too far away, and shamefully lower your voice. 
"... It's not, I promise. I just—" It takes a little while for you to gather the right words, and when you do, you don't drop your gaze from him. All of his previous frustration is all but gone, replaced by a slightly wide-eyed expression that's making your heart ache a little. "I genuinely really like spending time with Abby, okay? She's really sweet, and creative, and just a really great kid. And I—" 
You stop yourself. 
"And you what?" Mike asks, gently. 
Might as well, huh? 
"And I really like spending time with you, too," you admit, finally unable to meet his eyes and focusing on your lap instead. 
There's an incredibly tense beat, in which you swear your life flashes before your eyes. 
Then: 
He's barely audible when he speaks. His knee has stopped bouncing, but he's playing with his thumbs. Clearly, your confession— vague as it was— resonated with him, in some way. You hope he understands what you meant, because you couldn't possibly put it all into words in a way that would make sense. 
"Feeling's mutual," he mutters. 
Your head almost snaps up at that. Maybe you had expected it, deep down— you're not oblivious, duh— but it's one thing to have a hunch, and another to have that hunch proven. And out loud, no less. 
"Yeah?" You dare to ask. 
Slowly, he looks up. He meets your eyes. 
"Yeah," he repeats breathlessly, like the wind's been knocked out of him. 
You let your blanket fall from your shoulders, and it slides all the way onto the floor. 
You reach out. 
He lets you lace your fingers through his. 
Mike's palm is sort of clammy— and he's shaking a little— but he still squeezes your hand. On instinct, you guess. It still makes you smile. He doesn't return it, but his lips are parted a little, and you really, really like that. More than you probably should. You like a lot of things about him more than you probably should. 
You scooch a little closer, and he doesn't move away. You let your gaze drop back down to his lips again, making your intentions clear. Still, you don't know if it's clear enough. You lean in, just barely. 
"... Can I?" 
His reply is almost instantaneous. 
"Please."  
You swallow all of the witty quips you could make, and kiss him instead. 
He's very tentative at first. Like he hasn't done this for a while. But you ease him into it— and before long, he's got one hand on the back of your neck, the other somewhere near your waist. He tastes like coffee and something else you can't really put your finger on. It doesn't really matter, though. Because you are kissing him, damnit! 
His eyes are still shut when you part— with a soft smack — but they flutter open after a second. You're not sure if you're supposed to say something meaningful. Luckily, he leans in instead, and your thoughts are immediately transported elsewhere. 
You kiss like this for a while. It's really nice, and you know he needs it. So do you. 
However— when you start losing track of time, lost in the moment, he makes a noise. 
It's quiet, definitely. But it's nothing like the little hums and sighs he's been making so far. It makes you shift closer, pressing more insistently into him. And he responds, enthusiastically wrapping his arms around you, closing the little distance between your bodies that there was. You can practically feel his heart jackrabbiting in his chest when you slip your tongue past his already kiss-swollen lips. 
He moans.  
You indulge yourself. For a little longer. And Mike chases you when you part. 
"We shouldn't do this in the living room," you whisper, nearly panting. "The couch is a little—" 
"Okay," he whispers back, already sounding wrecked. "Okay." 
You've been in his room before. You've sat on his bed— you've even laid on it before. But you've never straddled him on it before. It's a position that makes your head spin a little, and you occupy yourself with kissing him again. His hands fit perfectly on your hips, but they don't stay there for long, tragically— they trail upwards, up your waist, to your back. To your shoulders, and then back down again. It's as if he just can't get enough. You can't either. You need more. 
So, you tug at his shirt. He gets the message right away— hands scrambling to pull it up and over his head. He's still rather slim, but with a slight softness, mostly located in his midsection. There's a light dusting of dark hair on his chest, as well as the provocative happy trail leading down from his navel. You drag your eyes downward, admiring him, and then decide that you're wearing too much clothing. Your top comes off, dropped onto the floor near his. 
Mike takes more time to admire you when your torso is completely bare. His hands are warm on your bare skin, and slightly rough. Like before, he's hesitant at first, but when you encourage him— either literally or with physical indications— he grows bolder. His stubble scratches gently against you when his lips find your collarbone. 
You squirm a little, not even realizing it— and you feel him. Simultaneously, you both gasp. He's not fully there, but he's at least half-hard— and it can't be comfortable in those jeans. 
"Should I—" 
"Yeah—" 
With steady fingers, you unbutton his fly, and then unzip him. It's a little awkward when he shimmies out of the jeans, and when you wriggle out of your bottoms— you both snicker a little, but he's back to comfortably breathless when you settle back onto his lap. Under normal circumstances, you would tease him again. And yet, you can't bring yourself to. Not right now, at least. 
All you want to do is keep going. 
You roll your hips, testing the waters. His breath audibly hitches, and his hands fly up to settle back on your hips. He looks up at you, eyes already half-lidded— and they close when you grind down again. And again. His lips are clumsier this time when you kiss him, but he still reciprocates all the same. The sensation of him directly underneath you like this is intoxicating. You can feel every little twitch and every little jolt. 
"Fuck," he breathes, long and drawn-out, " God, I can— I can see the spot on your—" 
"Yeah?" You encourage, grinding down again, drinking in his answering groan. "You like that?" 
  "Yes —" 
"You want me to take 'em off?" 
Mike's pupils are blown wide, even though his eyes are already dark as is in the dimness of the room. He nods, once, then twice. "Yes," he murmurs. "Please," he adds, for good measure. 
He stares openly when you get off him, just enough to peel off your last remaining layer of clothing. And when you sit back down, well. It's obvious that you'll have to give him a second. "Can I," he says, finally, "can I touch you?" The way he's looking up at you again is just so sweet, so needy, that you consider saying no. Your throbbing core quickly shuts that idea down. 
"Go on," you encourage. 
He helps you move so he has easier access, and—  
His fingertips find your slit, already wet for him.
"Look what you did to me," you murmur. 
He visibly flushes— and then carefully works one finger into your slick heat. The feeling, combined with his thumb brushing against your clit— it's relief that you've needed this entire time, and you can't help but let a quiet sound escape your lips. It's apparently enough incentive for him to quicken his pace a little. Deliberately, he continues massaging your sensitive nub in a firm but easy pattern as he gently pushes a second finger inside you. 
Mike may be out of practice, but evidently, he still knows what he's doing. He peppers kisses up and down your neck, some more open-mouthed than others. Crooking his fingers, he maintains his diligent rhythm. A thought floats through your mind, unbidden— he must have strong hands, if he's been able to keep up like this—   
Two becomes three, and you're spreading your thighs a little wider for him. He's still transfixed, but speeds up at your urging, breath hot against the divot between your neck and shoulder. You chance a glance down, and you can see the visible outline of him through his boxers. You did that to him. He's desperate— for you. 
"Mike," you gasp, "nnh—" 
"Yeah, c'mon," he mouths, against your neck, "c'mon—" He's not letting up in the slightest, and when you tell him to, he speeds up again. He needs to see you cum just as much as you need to feel it. Your needs and wants are rapidly blending into one. You squeeze your eyes shut, but open them to look at him. His dark curls are a mess, his hand working tirelessly between your legs. 
  "Mike —" 
He says your name in return, like he's the one in the vulnerable position. 
"Mike , 'm gonna— 'm gonna—"  
"Please," his breaths are ragged, debauched, "cum, please, c'mon, lemme see it—" 
"Oh —" 
The tension snaps, and you spasm around his fingers. Your hips twitch, and you moan, your mouth falling open as you ride out your orgasm. You're rising— falling — molten honey pooling in your core, before flowing throughout your body. And Mike keeps going throughout it all, letting you enjoy the sensations until you're fully satisfied. 
Nearly boneless, you sag backward. His fingers, soaked with your glistening release, slip out of your cunt with a wet noise. He doesn't waste any time in bringing them up into his mouth, cleaning them off with his tongue— at the taste of you, he groans, even though it's muffled. Your mind takes a moment to catch up again with the world, but another thought manifests itself— how would he react, if you let him use his mouth on you? How would his head look between your thighs? He would be noisy, wouldn't he? Enthusiastic, pliant, and—
Your desire, although it waned for a short minute, comes back tenfold. But you take one look down again and— you can do that later. Right now, you want him inside you. 
Mike lets you tug him down for another kiss. He lets you feel the worn fabric on his thighs, almost playfully. When you palm him through them— he hisses through his teeth, hypersensitive even though you've barely touched him yet. You're going to fix that, though. Hooking your thumbs into the waistband of his boxers, you tug them down. 
You were right. He's desperate. As soon as his overheated skin meets the cool air, he lets out another quiet hiss. And when you take him in hand— 
"Mmh —" A firm stroke from base to tip, and you've already got him. He's average in length, but a little girthy. You know he'll be perfect. There's a little drop at the head of his cock, and you resist the urge to lick it off, focusing instead on warming him up a little. He whispers your name, once, when you pump up and down, twisting your wrist. 
"Got a condom?" You ask, stilling for a second. His eyes snap to you. 
"Oh my God, " he quickly mutters under his breath, before raising his volume, "uh, yeah, I think so. Lemme—" And he's already scrambling off the bed, opening the drawers of his nightstand with speed, but somehow simultaneously managing not to make much noise. He rifles through them, but soon emerges victoriously with what he was looking for. It's a little funny, how he doesn't waste any time in ripping it open and tossing the garbage into the mostly-overfull pail near his bed. Hastily, he rolls on the condom. You think he's expecting you to lay back or get up on your hands and knees so he can fuck you like that— you wouldn't be entirely opposed to it— but that's not what you want right now. 
You place your hands on his chest and push him back down so he's sitting against the headboard. He goes without complaint, even shifting when he understands what you want to do. He's flushed almost down to his neck. 
When you sink down on him in a smooth slide, still slick from earlier, you both moan. He sounds strained— he's biting his lower lip, squirming until he finally bottoms out. You have to take a moment to catch your breath, too; the fullness is just how you imagined, but it's so, so much, especially because of your lingering sensitivity. 
"I'm not—" He audibly swallows, hands tightening on your waist when you move just a little, "oh, fuck, I'm not gonna— I'm not gonna last long." He's babbling a little. "You're tight, fuck." 
You rock back and forth, once, and it's enough to force a choked noise from his throat. You watch his face, observing every little twitch, the clenching of his jaw. You can't hesitate for much longer, though— so you begin lifting yourself and dropping yourself down on his cock. Just in little movements at first, so you can get used to the feeling. His eyes squeeze shut— 
"Look at me," you demand, and he does. He doesn't try and thrust up into you when you really start to move. Up and down, up and down, with lewd plaps that accompany your sounds; his grunts—  you swear you hear him whimper .  His eyelashes flutter open and closed, as he struggles to follow your command, wanting to be good. For you. Even though you can see his thighs flexing as he holds everything back. You ride him for all you're worth. 
True to his words, you can tell when he gets close. Maybe he's been on edge this entire time. You thread your fingers through his hair— he buries his face into the crook of your neck, maybe out of embarrassment. You can feel how flushed he is, a thin sheen of sweat covering both of your bodies. Your muscles are aching, but you're determined to make him cum. You're determined to do this for him. 
He says your name, but it's more of a whine. "Please — I'm gonna— I can't — "  
"Go on," you pant, "you can. Don't hold back." Your arms are wrapped around his neck, now, holding him tight; just like his arms around your waist. The contact is almost too much, but somehow it's still not enough, despite him being inside you. "Go on," you repeat, after he whines again, the sound sending white-hot heat straight to your core. "Cum." 
Mike twitches, and you can feel him pulse— the sound he lets out is high-pitched, muffled into your skin. You slow your movements— the aftershocks of his orgasm last longer than yours. It might've been a little while for you, but it had definitely been longer for him. 
He doesn't let go, even after his breathing's slowed down. 
Gently, you pull his head back so you can look at him. He looks up at you with slightly wet eyes. The kisses you press to his cheeks and forehead make him scrunch up his face. 
"Hey," he rasps, "I gotta throw out the condom. Hang on." 
"Yeah, okay." 
When he slips out of you, you both sigh a little. With unsteady fingers, he ties up the condom before chucking it into the pail. 
The sheets are cool on your skin when he pulls them over you both. The room reeks of sex, but both of you are too exhausted to care. When you turn to lay on your side, he's behind you, throwing an arm over your waist. Tugging you closer. Almost absentmindedly, there's a kiss pressed to the back of your head. 
"Thank you," he mumbles. 
You stare at the far wall, unable to close your eyes just yet. 
"For what?" 
"For—" A pause. "For everything, I guess." 
The awkwardness is back. But you let it in. You smile. 
"You're welcome." 
He doesn't respond, but shuffles nearer, chest pressed up against your back. It's not long before you're both fast asleep. 
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ddejavvu · 6 months
Note
What about spencer with a reader who is normally so independent and does everything for herself but she’s so soft for spencer and lets him dote on her and take care of her and the team is like :o bc they can’t believe she is letting someone do things for her
"I'm not a tyrant," Spencer's voice is inexhaustibly patient, and his fingers are slightly awkward as he holds them around his phone, angling it awkwardly so that you can see his upper half on face-time while he sits at his desk, "I just want you to take your medicine so that you can get better."
"I am better," You insist, your voice a far cry from its usual drawl. It's more ragged and weak, and you definitely have a stuffy nose, which indicates how untruthful your words are. Everyone knows it, most of the bullpen can hear your insistent griping, and they're beginning to feel bad for Spencer. They can't imagine how he'd gotten you to stay home today, but they're shooting each other knowing grins each time you push back against his gentle insistence.
"No, angel, you're not." Spencer croons, "You're on the mend, but you're not recovered yet. And you'll get worse if you don't take your meds. I put them on the nightstand for you, and some water. All you have to do is take them, and go back to sleep."
"I don't want to sleep!" You insist, and it's a whine- a whine! Emily's mouth splits in an incredulous grin, and a laugh threatens to tremble Derek's broad shoulders at how juvenile your attempts at protest have become. They're used to your biting words, your forceful demeanor, your inability to surrender any control, but Spencer's got you tucked into the covers begging for a kiss on the forehead.
"I've been sleeping all day, and I slept all day yesterday, and the day before that. I'm tired of sleeping. Just let me fill out some paperwork! Anything, Spence, please."
He chews on the inside of his cheek, ignoring the way that JJ giggles suspiciously with Penelope, who's leaning against the side of her desk, drawn out of her office for the spectacle.
"You can read," He relents, "And you can watch tv but only if you do it on your computer with the night light setting turned on," He narrows his eyes, taking on your rather rough persona to ensure that his orders are obeyed, "Promise?"
"Promise," You rasp, and the team can hear the smile in your voice, "Thanks, Spencer."
"Use the night light setting," He warns instead of accepting your thanks, "I'll check later to see if it's turned on!"
"Okay!" You laugh, and Spencer winces lightly as the sound morphs into a thick cough, "Okay, I'll- ah, I'll see you later, baby."
"See you later," He concedes with a fond smile, waving in addition to his verbal goodbyes, "Love you."
"Love you too," You promise, then end the call. Spencer feels the weight of everyone else's stares on him as he sets his seldom-used phone down and resumes working, refusing to acknowledge them unless they prod at him first.
"Good job, Spence," JJ congratulates, "I didn't think she'd ever take a sick day."
"I know," Emily gushes with bright eyes and a wild smile, "If I tried to tuck her in she'd probably bite me."
"Well, that's 'cause you don't have Pretty Boy's charm," Derek cracks, though the smile that he flashes Prentiss is reassurance that he's teasing Spencer more than he's teasing her, "Congrats on wearing the pants today, Reid. Enjoy it while it lasts, 'cause as soon as she's out of bed, she's taking the wheel again."
Spencer takes great pleasure in levelling Derek with a meaningful, "Shut up," because he's more than happy to be your passenger princess any day.
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aemondsbabe · 4 months
Text
The Gods and Everyone
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summary: you and aemond sorely overestimate how much time you have before a small council meeting, which leaves the two of you in quite a scandalous predicament
pairing: aemond targaryen x reader
warnings: mature/explicit, 18+ (minors dni!), no use of y/n, afab reader, cockwarming, public sex, slight breeding kink, fingering, aemond being an absolute menace, dirty talk, aegon being a little shit but what else is new, let me know if i missed anything!
word count: 5.6k
a/n: based on an anon request for cockwarming! i hope you're still with me and that you enjoy this, friend! sorry it took me so long to get to it!
creds to @bbygirl-aemond for the gif!
likes, comments, & reblogs are very appreciated but never required!
🌟add yourself to my taglist to be notified when i post new fics!
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You watch, concerned, as your husband flits around the Small Council chamber, your eyes following his lithe form as he checks and re-checks the parchment with notes he had written for himself earlier that morning – you’d awoken in the pale hour just before sunrise to see him already hunched over the small desk in your chambers, scribbling away furiously with a quill, his pale hair glowing in the dim light of the candle next to him. All of your attempts to lure him back into bed with you had fallen on deaf ears. 
“You know you needn't do all this,” you point out, perched against the Small Council table, your eyes tracking him as he paces back and forth across the space, going over his notes for the upteenth time, “Your only job is to be on time like everyone else, husband.”
“Things will improve with time,” he rushes out, fixing you with a pointed look, “Hardly two moons have passed since Viserys…” He pauses, pinching the bridge of his nose, “The least I can do is ease this transition for Aegon and mother.”
“My love, it is a transition for us all,” you soothe, striding to him and gently taking his hand. His fingers, rough from all his years of training with swords and spears, instantly wrap around your own as he lets out a tired sigh, “You included. Aegon named you Master of War, not master of everything.” 
“I know,” Aemond murmurs, eye softening as his gaze traces over you, “I find it hard to be still when there is so much chaos – Dorne has yet to be subdued and there are whispers of rebellion from the North. There is so much still to be accounted for.”
“I understand,” you reassure him, your fingers threading through his long, silvery hair, lips quirking into a smile as the gesture makes his eye flutter closed for a second. “But all this stress cannot be good for you, husband,” you sigh, gazing up at him with a mournful smile, “You need rest and calm and…and I need you.” You nearly whisper, blush creeping across your cheeks as Aemond’s eye darkens. 
“Sweetling—“ He starts with a sigh. 
“Aemond, please,” you cut him off, wrapping your arms around his trim waist as you lay your head against his chest, his heart thumping in your ear, “I cannot bear to hear another excuse, I feel as if you have been away for weeks.” 
He’s quiet for a moment, wrapping his long, lean arms tightly around you as he rests his chin on your head, your breaths the only sound in the stony chamber. “I’m sorry,” he finally whispers, smoothing a hand up and down your back, “I miss you too, my sweet girl.” 
You hum, leaning further into his embrace after going without it for so long, “You haven’t touched me in weeks.” You say quietly, his touch already igniting a spark in the pit of your stomach. 
“Perhaps tonight,” his breath is warm against the top of your head as he speaks into your hair, “I will try to cut my meeting with–”
“You’ve been saying that for weeks,” you cut him off once more with a sigh, pulling back to look up at him, “I can’t take anymore, my love, I need to feel you.” You whine, nearly petulant like a spoiled child. If it were any other time, if you were any less desperate, you’d be embarrassed at your behavior. Right now, though, you could not find it within yourself to care as you stared into your husband’s darkened eye, finally feeling the passion you had gone so many weeks without. 
Aemond chuckles as he looks down at you, conflicted between feeling pleased to see you reduced to such a state while also feeling a similar fire in his own belly. “Sweetling, the meeting–”
“Is not due to start for at least another hour!” You interrupt, determined to persuade him to this. Taking you in various parts of the Keep was not new to him, both of you had plenty of memories from your courtship and first year of marriage of rutting together in all sorts of nooks and crannies of the old castle. 
Aemond gazes at you for a long moment, an unreadable expression on his face, though his eye remains dark with desire. After a second, he nods to himself almost imperceptibly, seeming to come to some decision you weren’t privy to. Finally, finally his lips descend upon yours as he sweeps you into an all-consuming kiss, his arms tightening around your waist as he pulls you to him, groaning lowly in his throat as he licks into your mouth. You shiver in his grasp, finally tasting him properly after so long as you whimper and whine into his mouth.
“Aemond,” you gasp as you finally part from him, mewling as he immediately trails kisses down your jaw, “What–”
“Seems I can never deny you for very long, sweetling,” he huffs, halfway laughing as he guides you over to the large table, pulling you up by the waist until you’re sitting on the cool stone table, your legs bracketing his trim waist, “I’ve missed you too, my love.” He confesses, sweeping a lock of hair from your shoulder before trailing kisses up across your neck and jaw, one hand already desperately pulling up the bottom of your gown.
You huff out small moans and whimpers, relishing his warm touch. His nimble fingers finally manage to undo the knot at the front of your smallclothes and he tugs them down quickly, leaving you bare for him under your skirts as they fall to a pile on the floor just beside his chair at the table. 
“Husband,” you pant, tugging at the drawstrings at the top of his trousers, “Please, please do not make me beg today, I–” Your train of thought is cut off as a moan, louder than it should be given the location, tears itself from your throat when you feel his long fingers ghost over your center.
“Shh, darling,” Aemond grins as he feels your arousal immediately coat his fingers, a pleased hum emanating from deep in his chest as he feels it already coating the insides of your thighs as well, “I don’t have the patience to restrain myself today, sweet one,” he mutters, watching your face carefully as he spreads your folds and teases your entrance with a finger before carefully sliding it in, groaning with satisfaction at the feel of your walls already tightly clamping down on it, “Nor the time.” He adds with a slight smirk, pale hair cascading like a curtain down his shoulders as he leans his forehead against yours. 
“Oh, Gods,” you whimper, eyes fluttering shut as your hands white knuckle the dark leather of his tunic, too uncoordinated with lust to manage the ties on his pants, “M-My love, more please!” You whisper, angling your hips to try and catch another of his fingers. 
You hear him chuckle above you before he pulls his finger from you, smirking as you whine pitifully at the loss. Before you have a chance to protest, he quickly undoes his trousers, not bothering to pull them down at all and opting to merely loosen the laces at the front enough to free his cock. Your eyes widen as you watch his hand stroke over his length momentarily, taking in the way it already throbs in his grasp, the head flushed and leaking from merely having you in his hands once more.
“Ready, sweetling?” He asks, gently tilting your chin up as he captures your lips in a sweet kiss, his other hand positioning his length at your entrance. 
You part from him and nod eagerly, widening your legs and angling your hips, “I’ve been ready for you for weeks, Aemond.” 
He smiles softly, pressing one more kiss against your neck before finally pressing into you, growling as he sinks into your slick heat. “Seven,” he grunts, cradling the back of your head with one hand as his other slinks down to grab at your hip, “You feel better every time, sweetling.”
You moan hotly against his shoulder, sinking your teeth into the thick leather of the shoulder of his tunic in an attempt to quiet yourself. Your eyes squeeze shut at the feel of him sliding into you, filling you to the brim perfectly. You’ve been without him for so long that he feels enormous, your walls aching as he stretches you out, pressing in and in until he’s finally seated fully within you. 
Without another word, Aemond started thrusting into you, slow at first but quickly picking up the pace with every firm roll of his hips into you. After only a moment, he’s already grunting like a madman into your ear, holding you to him even as you cling tightly to his shoulders yourself, your legs wrapped loosely around his waist. 
You feel a fire building in your belly at a breakneck pace as he ruts into you, the hand on your hip no doubt leaving fingerprint bruises across your skin, even through the fabric of your gown. If the low groans from your husband are any indication, he isn’t doing much better. He threads his fingers through your hair, pulling you into a desperate kiss, teeth and tongues clashing together frantically as if the two of you are trying to fall into each other, to become one. 
“My love, I—,” he pants against your lips, jerking your head back by the grip he has on your locks. His eye meets yours, the light lilac almost entirely eclipsed by his pupil as he stares at you hungrily, “It’s been so long, I don’t know how long I can last.” 
His breath is warm as it fans over your lips and you nod dazedly, zings of pleasure radiating up your spine from Aemond’s grip in your hair only adding to the warmth quickly threatening to overtake you. “It’s okay,” you swallow thickly, eyes already rolling back with pleasure, “I can’t either.” 
Nodding in return, he picks up the pace, the head of his cock rutting against the most sensitive spot within you hard enough to make you see stars. He hasn’t even needed to tease your pearl and you’re already nearly unraveling as Aemond mumbles nearly incoherent praises, the hand on your hip traveling lower, nearly cupping your ass. 
Just as you’re about to warn him of your inevitable release, muffled voices sound from behind the thick wooden doors that lead into the Small Council chambers. Aemond slows within you as both of your heads swivel to the doors — just in time to hear the guards stationed outside begin to tug them open. 
You freeze, eyes widening as the doors open, seemingly in slow motion. Thankfully, your husband moves quickly enough for the both of you, nimbly scooping you into his arms before hastily dropping down into his chair, hurriedly scooching it forward until both of your laps are hidden under the stone surface of the table, before kicking your smallclothes under the table at the last second. 
Your head whips around to face Aemond and you give him a panicked, wide-eyed look just as people start filing into the room, unaware that you’re still being split open by your husband’s length. One hand, still on your hip, tightens, silently commanding you to be still as his lilac eye pleads the same; his other hand is already poised on the table, relaxed against the cool surface as if he doesn’t have a care in the world. 
“Yes, yes, we must certainly ask him once he’s back in King’s Landing,” Lord Tyland’s voice fills the chamber as he walks in, engaged in a conversation about something or other with Lord Corlys, the two sharing a laugh before finally taking notice of you and Aemond, “Prince, princess.” Tyland bows his head at the two of you with Corlys following soon after. 
You sit frozen atop your husband, gazing blankly at the two men without a word. Thankfully, Aemond has the presence of mind to bow his head politely, though he stays quiet. As they walk further into the room, you can only see Tyland and Corlys from the corner of your eye but you don’t miss the odd look they share, silently asking each other why you were present and certainly why you were sitting on Aemond’s lap. Blood rushes to your head so quickly you feel lightheaded, your cheeks stinging as a harsh blush quickly appears on your face from their attention. 
Maester Orwyle files through the doorway next, doing a double take at you and Aemond before bowing his head, a gesture that you thankfully remember to return this time as you stiffly nod your head. Thankfully, the older man simply takes a seat at his place at the table without any comment, though you can hear the two other men speaking quietly in the corner of the room, throwing glances your way as they do. 
Your walls tighten around Aemond’s length as the rest of you tenses up when Larys creeps in, leaning against his cane as he moves; Aemond thighs tense underneath you as you hear him suck in a breath, only slightly more hasty than normal — the hand in your hip tightens, warning you to keep it together. 
“Prince Aemond, princess,” Larys nods as he approaches the table, “To what do we owe the pleasure of such… intriguing company?” He questions, tilting his head as he narrows his eyes ever so slightly, his eyes bouncing between you and Aemond. 
Your head spins as you stare straight ahead, willing yourself to respond, to say anything, to appear somehow normal. Yet, nothing comes out as your center throbs uselessly around Aemond, your head cloudy with need as your eyes stare ahead blankly, though registering just enough to pick up on the small smirk playing at the corners of Larys’s lips. 
“My wife appears to have taken ill this morning,” Aemond drawls from over your shoulder while affectionately petting your waist, a gesture entirely for show, a lie to placate the men in the room, but it comforts you nonetheless. He clears his throat before continuing, the only tell thus far that your warmth around him is affecting him at all, “My presence brings her great comfort, I see no reason why she should be without it.” 
“I see,” Larys hums in response, his dark eyes sweeping over your form, sparkling ominously as if he knows the truth, “What shame, let us hope the Gods grant you reprieve from this…illness soon, princess.” 
“Yes!” You finally squeak, snapping back to attention as Aemond just barely squeezes your side, “Yes, let’s hope so. Thank you, Lord Larys.” You breathe, managing a smile small. 
You shift on your husband’s lap and immediately you know you’ve made a mistake as the head of his cock prods directly into that overly sensitive patch within you, nearly making you topple over on the spot as a small groan escapes you. Blessedly, you have enough presence of mind to cover it up with a cough, sparks jolting down your back as Aemond presses a soft kiss to your cheek, one of his hands coming up to rub soothing circles against the back of your shoulder. 
“There, there, sweetling,” he says softly, again, entirely for show as you put on your best performance, “Once the meeting is over, we will have the servants make some tea for you, that will help with that cough.” Even if it was for show, you couldn’t help but shiver at Aemond’s low voice, at how he’s being so soft and caring with you. That, combined with the incessant prodding to your sweet spot, has you throbbing around him, your heart hammering in your chest. You can hear Aemond suck in another barely there gasp behind you, a groan low enough to remain silent rumbling against your back while at the same time his hand almost imperceptibly twitches on the table; his composure makes you feel all the more lightheaded, blushing somehow deeper at the fact that he’s taking you apart this easily without so much as moving a muscle. Your thighs trembled atop his lap, the insides already sticky with your arousal as you struggled to stay still, silently thanking the Gods that at least your laps were hidden. 
“I’m sorry,” Corlys began, striding over from his spot in the corner with a sheepish look, “I really feel I must speak up, this is really most unusual.” He finishes through an awkward laugh, Tyland following closely behind him as they saddle up to the table. 
“What is most unusual?” Alicent asks, entering the Small Council chambers with Otto, followed closely after by Aegon and Ser Criston. Her eyes sweep over the room, pausing when she sees you, though she quickly corrects herself with a soft smile. “Ah, my dear,” she nods hello to the various men in the room before sitting at the table, “May I ask why your wife joins us, Aemond?” She peers at him curiously, throwing a nervous glance at Aegon who is smirking far too much for her liking as he slinks up to the table. 
“It seems the princess has fallen ill, your grace,” Larys answers quickly, slyly smiling as he turns to face the dowager queen, “Prince Aemond insisted she stay so that she may be…comforted.” You quickly look away from him as his eyes meet yours once again, piercing through you as though he can see directly through your gown. 
“Yes, which is most odd,” Tyland butted in, throwing glances between you, Aemond, Alicent, and Aegon, “She is not a member of the council, she should not be present. Surely there is some way the princess could be comforted that does not involve being privy to government matters.”
Aemond stays silent behind you, glaring daggers at Aegon over your shoulder, watching carefully as he traipses over to the table and stands at its head, his eyes never straying from his brother’s as they stare one another down. The other members, some reluctantly, take their places at the table as well, each of them standing so long as Aegon does, though you and Aemond remain seated; your eyes never stray from the marbled surface of the table.
“Aemond, please,” Otto sighs from his place next to you, “The least you and the princess could do is stand for–”
“I see him everyday,” Aegon interjects, breaking eye contact with your husband as he rolls his eyes, “I don’t give a shit if the fool stands.”
Your eyes dart up at that, shocked that Aegon isn’t taking the chance to thoroughly humiliate Aemond by putting him on the spot. The king’s violet eyes meet yours, sparkling with a mischief that makes your center flutter around your husband’s length – Aegon’s smirk grows as if he knows exactly what just happened. A thin sheen of sweat makes you feel clammy as Aemond’s cock twitches inside of you, pushing him against your sweet spot all the more. 
“Very well,” Alicent swiftly cuts in, determined to keep the peace, “Shall we get st–”
“Are we really going to allow for the presence of–” Corlys starts, only to be viciously cut off.
“She stays,” Aegon says flatly, shooting a bored look at the man, “If anyone has an issue with the princess’s presence they may take their leave.” His violet eyes pass over the room, almost daring anyone to move. Everyone remains still, though you can feel Tyland and Corlys glaring at the side of your head, and after a moment, Aegon takes his seat followed by everyone else; blessedly, the meeting finally begins. 
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The Small Council meeting drones on and on, with various conversations of coin and ships, concerns abroad in Essos, and other diplomatic matters that mean nothing to you. In the back of your mind, you know it’s hardly been any time at all but it feels like an eternity has passed with Aemond’s hard length still piercing into you, twitching against your pulsing walls every so often. A part of you wonders if he does it on purpose, gives you just enough stimulation to cruelly tease you before going stock still once more. 
The small, unnoticeable to everyone but you, hitches of his breath tell you otherwise and deep down, you know he’s just as affected as you, no doubt steadily leaking into you, though you dare not consider the thought for very long. 
“Aemond,” your breath catches in your throat as Otto directs his attention to your husband, everyone else's gaze quickly following, “Any further communications from Dorne?”
Behind you, your husband clears his throat and you feel him shift beneath you, sitting up slightly straighter in his seat, both hands now clasping your waist to keep you steady on top of him. “Negotiations with the Dornish remain stagnant,” he begins as you practically wilt on his lap, the added attention from the council members making the knot in your belly tighten in a way you shudder to consider, “We received a raven from Prince Qoren some days ago rejecting any dealings with the crown, no matter the amount of coin we have to offer.” He finishes, pointedly looking at Tyland, who proceeds to butt in.
As soon as the attention shifts off of the two of you, it’s like the air around Aemond changes, becoming charged all of a sudden as you feel his chest heave against your back. At the other end of the table, Tyland begins to raise his voice, debating hotly with Corlys and Otto, drawing the attention of everyone else to them. 
“Do you think you can be still?” Aemond whispers, his breath hot against your ear although his voice is barely audible even to you. He must sense you freeze on his lap as the hand on your hip begins to move slowly, dragging your skirts up your legs until his hand can slip underneath them, making you tremble as he grips the soft skin of your thigh, “Tighten around my cock if you can be still.”
Against your better judgment, you do as he says, tensing as you clench your walls around him; his only reply is a low growl against your back. He stays still for a moment, trying with all of his might to appear as if he’s taking great interest in the ongoing argument taking place. 
Finally, once he’s positive everyone is too preoccupied arguing over coin to pay attention to either of you, his deft fingers slip through your folds before finally twirling against your aching pearl. 
You have to bite harshly at the inside of your cheek to keep quiet, trying to keep your breathing steady as you focus on not moving even though you so badly want to rut your hips against his fingers as they rub against you. 
Aemond swallows thickly behind you as he slowly circles his fingers, careful to keep his pace light and steady to not stir up any slick sounds from your wet cunt, though he longs to hear them. 
Your elbows rest against the top of the table, your hands clasped tightly in front of you. The conversation around you seems to shift as Otto begins prattling on about some Tyrell woman finally being with child. Aemond’s fingers suddenly pinch at your sensitive bud and a gasp tumbles past your lips before you can stop it, drawing everyone’s attention. 
“Is everything alright, princess?” Alicent questions from across the table, her dark eyes narrowed with concern. 
You nod quickly, coughing to conceal a moan as you open your mouth to answer her, “Y-Yes, I’m sorry,” you apologize with a weak smile, “I’m just so pleased for the Tyrells, what a j-joyous time this must be for them.” You say quickly, stumbling over the words as your core clenches tightly around your husband’s cock, his small touches driving you steadily to your peak despite the circumstances. 
Alicent gives you a curious look before quickly collecting herself, “Yes, I’m sure the family is quite thankful, children are always such a blessing,” she smiles politely before turning back to her father, “Please, continue.” 
Otto’s voice hardly reaches your ears as he picks up where he left off, though you don’t miss the horribly put out looks you garner from Tyland and Corlys. 
Aemond’s fingers just barely speed up as they swirl over your bud, though the small change is enough to drive you wild and you can feel the way his chest heaves against your back as your walls twitch around his length, threatening to milk his cock dry without him having to move an inch. 
The heat that has slowly been building within you finally begins to bubble over and your husband’s fingers show no signs of stopping as he pushes you closer and closer to your breaking point. The hand of his that has been resting idly on the table top comes over to casually rest against your clenched hands and rubs soothingly up and down your forearm, Aemond’s silent way of telling you he knows you’re close. 
Your eyes flick around the room as you feel your peak threatening to spill over you, frantically checking for any onlookers at the last possible second. You nearly jump out of your skin as your eyes finally land on Aegon, only to find him already staring at you, an amused smirk plastered across his face as he studies you. 
Aemond chooses that exact second to pinch at your pearl again and the small touch is your undoing. Your teeth bite down firmly on your tongue as your walls pulse rhythmically around your husband’s leaking cock, your eyes still locked on Aegon’s violet ones, now darkened with lust. 
Your muscles tense up as you peak helplessly, waves of pleasure lighting up every nerve ending within you. Somehow, you find it within yourself to remain quiet and still on Aemond’s lap as your eyes finally flick away from his older brother’s and you gaze, apparently absentmindedly, at some point on the wall on the opposite side of the room as your high subsides. 
Thankfully, Aemond takes pity on you and slips his hand away, his wet fingers resting gently in your bare thigh, still underneath your gown. 
You slowly come down from your high as the Small Council winds down, Aegon and Otto quickly discussing a few final points before the king formally adjourns the meeting. Tyland and Corlys practically bolt from their chairs, quickly bowing before they exit as they mumble between themselves, no doubt about the displeasure of your presence. 
Otto and Maester Orwyle take their leave soon after, each bowing politely. Aegon busies himself at the head of the table, leaning back in his chair as he lazily sips from his wine cup, the gleam in his eyes making you shiver. 
Across the room, Alicent and Larys whisper between themselves. Strangely, your mother-in-law blushes, shaking her head suddenly and mumbling a quiet, “Not here,” before glancing around the room.
Larys merely shrugs, turning to you as he shuffles from the room, “Do get better soon, princess.” He says with a feeble bow, although the look on his face makes you blush heavily. 
At that, Alicent turns to Aegon, “Would you care to come see the children with me?”
“Go on,” he dismisses her before nodding toward you and Aemond, “I wish to have a word with my brother.” He catches your eye with a quick wink. 
“Of course,” Alicent mutters, glancing curiously between the three of you, “I’ll ask the maids to bring some tea to your chambers this evening, princess. They make a wonderful lemon one that always seems to lift my spirits.” She says with a kind smile, coming around to place a comforting hand on your shoulder before she too heads to the door. 
“Thank you!” You breathily call after her, voice squeaking at the end as Aemond shuffles impatiently beneath you, his cock still prodding against your sensitive walls. 
Aegon chuckles darkly as soon as the doors close once more, standing from his chair with a wide smirk. “I must say, I’m impressed,” he taunts, eyes glinting as he looks between you and his brother, “I didn’t think either of you had that much gaul in you.” 
“What exactly are you tittering about now?” Aemond asks lowly behind you, his voice rough and choppy as his patience clearly wears thin. 
Sniggering, Aegon saunters around to stand beside you, violet eyes scanning over your laps still concealed under the table, “You’ve had your cock in her the whole time, have you not?” He teases, laughing harder still as Aemond merely hums in response, “Come brother, you should be proud of yourself,” he clasps a hand over your husband's shoulder, “She was nearly falling apart when she peaked.” He comments with a final wink as he ambles to the door, stopping to throw one last amused look over his shoulder, “You might want to do something about that bite mark on your shoulder.” He says casually before slamming the doors closed behind him. 
At his comment, you whirl around and your eyes grow wide as you spy a clear impression of your teeth marks in the leather of Aemond’s tunic, on his shoulder where you’d bitten down earlier. Your cheeks heat up at the thought of it being there throughout the entire meeting. 
You don’t have long to dwell on the thought though as your husband roughly pushes you from his lap until you’re bent over the table, cheek pressed to the cool stone surface. “Seven!” You sequel as he unceremoniously shoves his cock back inside you, his hips pumping wildly as his hands grasp at your waist harshly, no doubt leaving bruises. 
“Fucking finally,” he grunts, eyeing the way his cock disappears into your slick heat as he bunches your gown up over your ass, “‘M not gonna last.” He warns lowly, already panting with the speed of his thrusts. 
Your head spins once again as his cock moves within you, his pace nearly bruising. Your teeth sink into the skin of your forearm as you desperately try to keep quiet, another peak already welling up within you. 
Aemond growls and quickly threads the fingers of one hand through your hair, making you whine loudly as he pulls your head back until his chest is once again pressed against you, his other hand coming to rub against your abused pearl once more. 
“Aemond!” You moan, shaking your head in his grasp, one hand braced against the table as the other grabs at his forearm, feeling his muscles twitch as his fingers swirl against your center, “P-Please, I cannot keep myself quiet, I know I can’t—“ You start babbling. 
“Let them fucking hear,” he growls, eye squeezing shut as he feels his stones tightening up, “The whole keep can listen for all I fucking care, I won’t be stopping this time.” 
Your eyes roll back in your head at his words, never having heard him sound this possessed and overcome with pleasure before. After only a few more thrusts, you feel your walls twitch once more, a loud gasp rattling through your chest, “H-Husband, I’m—!”
“That’s it,” Aemond groans, redoubling his efforts against your pearl as he continues to rut into you at a nearly inhuman pace. “Peak, sweetling,” he commands, his voice low and raspy in your ear, “Peak while I breed your precious cunt.” 
His words nearly take your breath away and you whine loudly as another high washes over you, your walls milking your husband’s cock as they clench and pulse against it. 
Behind you, Aemond groans lowly, grunting as his cock twitches strongly inside you, his thick seed flooding into your heat as he finally, finally peaks, the pleasure of it making him dizzy as he leans against your back, forehead pressed between your shoulder blades. 
The two of you are quiet for a moment, your tired pants the only sounds in the chambers. Finally, Aemond untangles his fingers from your hair, both of his hands coming to rest against the cool table as he finally pulls his cock from your center, soothing you with soft shushes when you whine, the emptiness in your core such a foreign feeling after being filled for so long. 
He sinks into his chair once more and pulls you with him, wrapping a protective arm around your waist as you rest your head on his shoulder. Once your breathing is steady, you pick your head up, a displeased groan tumbling from your throat as you see your bite mark more clearly up close, a finger coming up to trace over the intents in the black leather. 
“I’ll need to send this to the seamstress for repairs,” you whisper with an apologetic sigh, “I believe this is beyond my ability to fix.” 
Aemond chuckles beneath you, lilac eye gleaming with pride as he clasps a hand over yours as it still rests on his shoulder, “Don’t trouble yourself with it, my love.” 
“What?” You question, smiling despite the way you tilt your head in confusion, “Aemond, I cannot fix it myself and I’m afraid the mark will not simply go away—,” 
“You misunderstand me, sweetling,” he says, smiling as he looks down at you, “I intend to keep it as a mark of great pride. I shall wear it as a trophy for all to see.” He explains with a teasing laugh. 
You playfully smack a hand against his chest, which only makes him laugh harder, “You can’t be serious!” You admonish with a wide smile.
“Why? I simply wish to remember this day,” he chuckles, “The day I made my sweet wife peak in front of the Gods and everyone.” 
“Aemond!” You cannot help the surprised laugh that leaves you, “You’re as disgusting as your brother!”
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tagged lovelies: @helloworldiamnotarobot @drakonflames @marysucks-blog @watercolorskyy @valeskafics @iamaegontargaryenwife0 @aemshaircare @1997babyyyy @lovellies @little-moonbeam-666 @blackswxnn @demirunner @eponaartemisa @trshngyn
(tags are based on your answers to my google form; if you were mistakenly tagged, please contact me & update your answers on the form! thank you!)
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inu-mxki · 7 months
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roronoa zoro x gn!reader
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reader gives praise + pet names / slightly steamy / zoros a simp
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“missed you today,” you mumble against his mouth.
zoro thinks you’re heaven bottled, straddling his waist, kissing him like you’ve been starved. he sits back, enjoying your undivided attention and flurry of soft, deep kisses. his large hands gently squeeze at your sides, then move to your thighs, kneading the soft, plush skin.
he’s in love with you. zoro is completely and unequivocally in love with you. he’s drunk on your lips, your body, your voice. everything. you fill his senses and bewitch his mind. even the scent of your hair left on his pillow has him burying his nose into the plushness to get more of it. he’s obsessed. he’s so sure of it, and yet it’s so foreign and strange for him.
zoro is no stranger to desire. he knows how it feels to want something so badly you’d kill for it, but never has he felt a desire quite like this one. it’s not a desire to win, or to be the greatest, or to serve. it’s vulnerable and fragile. it’s consuming and overwhelming. it’s more more more.
and that’s all he can think when your lips finally part, your eyes looking down at him like he’s never done a bad thing in his life. like he’s precious. innocent. loved. missed. wanted.
“i love you,” you whisper to him, tracing the sharp edge of his jaw before pressing a gentle kiss there. he pulls you closer, if possible, his strong hands gliding up your t-shirt to rest on your bare back. he presses his lips to your neck, earning a satisfying sigh from you, so he sucks lightly.
“i love you,” he mutters into your skin, goosebumps forming along his defined arms as your nails begin to scratch at his scalp. close just isn’t enough. he buries his face into your shoulder, nuzzling there.
such a big man and yet, for you, he’s melted butter.
“you worked so hard today,” you tell him, kissing the shell of his ear, “you’re so good, baby. so good.”
he relishes in the praise. he wants it so bad. from the moment you joined the crew, he’d been jealous of any praise you gave to anyone else. especially the idiot cook. how he longed to have you tell him he’s done well, that he’s good, that you’re proud.
zoro doesn’t know when he turned into such a melt, but you just have that affect on him. you make him feel like he can be vulnerable in your presence.
“thank you,” he breathes, squeezing you tighter.
“do you want me to rub your shoulders?” you ask him softly, pressing little kisses to the side of his head. he could stay here forever and a day.
“you don’t have to,” he says, voice rough from how tired he is. you chuckle lightly.
“i want to,” you tell him honestly, pushing him off with great difficulty, “let me take of you, ‘ro.”
he’s so thankful to whatever fate bought you to him, shuffling around so he’s sitting between your dangling legs, your hands rubbing gentle but firm circles into his muscles. he groans when you hit a certain spot, so you stay there, every now and then kissing the crown of his head.
he’s just not worthy. he doesn’t understand how he managed to get this hallelujah. how, out of everyone, he’s the one you devote your time to. he’s the one you drunkly confessed to one night after a successful fight, kissing him before pulling yourself away and mumbling how sorry you were and that you understand if he didn’t feel the same.
how ludicrous.
it was his bed you clambered into and never left. it’s his mouth you kiss good morning and kiss goodnight. it’s his hand you squeeze under the table. it’s his face you search for in the crowd.
and he’s so fucking thankful. there’s a God. there must be.
“never leave me,” he finds himself saying out loud, your movements stopping, hands resting against his shoulders. he feels you move, and then your lips against his ear.
“what a silly thing to say,” you speak softly, sending a shiver down his spine as your hands begin working at his tired muscles again, “i’m not going anywhere, ‘ro. please don’t worry about that.”
he closes his eye. trusting you. relaxing back into your embrace. if you’re destined to always be at his side, always sleep beside him, to rub his shoulders and kiss his skin, then he’s sure, more than ever, there’s someone Holy looking down on him. he should be more accommodating to that thought. maybe it’s time he actually thank whoever they are.
hell, he might even start praying.
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i do not own one piece or anything associated with it
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flowerflowerflo · 1 month
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𓏲˳˚⊹ 🧸 become obsessed with yourself.
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you are stupid. i said it. there. you are stupid.
let me get this straight. you are out here listening to these people who make you insecure. you are listening and actually giving a shit about people who put you down, make you feel unworthy, inferior, less of the absolute goddess that you are. you people please, you go above and beyond to help people & change yourself for people who would never do the same and for what. for people to like you? honey nobodys gonna like you. you dont even like yourself.
listen ml you need to get your priorities straight. sit down for a sec. like. just sit and genuinely ask yourself "what do i get out of this? how does this serve me?". go on, ask yourself. all these people who constantly think theyre better than you, that they can walk all over you, the ones that dont care a bit for you with their actions even if their words say otherwise, all these habits that only make you feel more low, more insecure, and dont align with where you wanna go in any way, shape or form. honey how in the hell does any of this serve you ???😭😭
i am sick to death of seeing the word selfish everywhere the moment somebody steps up and is brave enough to try and better themselves. the amount of times ive gotten "youre so selfish" or "youve changed" or "you werent like this before" jst because i got out of the most severe depression of my life where i came close to being unalive so many times is riDICULOUS and just shows how normalised insecurity and people pleasing is nowadays.
you see, people are always trying to follow the trend, follow the leader, follow everyone else nowadays. nobody actually honours what they want & that is a reflection of their own insecurity and traumas and emotions they are too scared to face. do you really want that for yourself? youve got such big dreams, such big potential, but what on earth do you do to fulfill them?
i dont think you realise just how limitless you actually are. you can do anything. we are all born the same. its only those with the courage to get up and try who will reach what they want and achieve greater things.
GET OBSESSED WITH YOURSELF. i am so DRAINED and TIRED of caring about what people think. i like something? im gonna do it. i dont care. fuck people pleasing. what are they gonna do when youre rich and famous and successful and thriving? YOU ARE THE ONLY VALIDATION YOU NEED. life is so much easier when you genuinely could not care less, like you just dont give a single shit. you are the only person who knows you inside out and will be there with you 24/7 365. it infuriates me how self hatred is so normalised nowadays. like what the actual fuck, why would you wanna spend your entire life hating the only person whos gonna be with you every second without fail, when you are perfectly capable of reversing that???? its ridiculous.
get up. get obsessed with yourself. the only validation you should be chasing is your own. pull yourself together girl. this is ridiculous. you are so much more than this. start acting like it. be ur own biggest fan. be ur own bestest friend. everything you need is already within you. u got this. 💕
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jyoongim · 26 days
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~Blood & BLISS~
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Human!Alastor x wife!Reader
Themes: 1930 based! Human!Alastor x wife!Reader, domestic life! fluff, smut, devotion, slight manipulation, mention of children, pregnancy,  blood, murder, secrets 
chapter two
Synopsis: Marrying New Orleans famous radio host had been a shocker to everyone. You, a southern belle from an esteemed family, had somehow managed to catch the attention of the mysterious bachelor. 
Your wedding was all in the papers and talk of the town, even though the ceremony was rather private.
You quickly settled in as the homemaker as Alastor brought home the dough and took care of you. 
It was a dream come true.
But Alastor was strange, even to you and you were his wife, but you brushed it off as him just being a man.  You had nothing to complain about. You lived in a nice big house, had the finest luxuries, and Alastor would dote on you. What wasn’t to love?
Well… all those things were nice, but you were starting to crave a family with your husband.
You knew of Alastor’s upbringing and had an inkling that children might not be an option…but Alastor wouldn’t deny you what you desired most would he? Of course not ma belle.
Alastor prided himself on how people often wondered about him. The renowned radio host, who the public rarely saw. He was a mystery to many. He frequented jazz lounges and often could be found drinking whiskey as he listened to the Mimzy gossip about the latest news.
He,  himself was shocked when he met you, the prettiest thing in the city. He had to have you. He knew you were the one.
Like the gentleman he was, he sent you flowers and love letters to begin courting you. He never tired of how shy you were around him. 
It wasn’t long before he asked your father for your hand and the two of you got hitched.
And what a wedding it was! he spared no expense to your disapproval.
Alastor was the epitome of what every husband inspired to be! 
Doting, providing, and attentive.
But he had a secret he kept from his little wife…
Can he maintain control over his domestic affairs and his sinister ones?
Soft jazz played in the background as you busied around the kitchen preparing dinner. The sizzling of the oil carried the scent of fried chicken as you chopped collards and added them to another pan to fry.
You hummed along to whatever song was playing as you cooked.
You took the chicken out of the grease, poured some of it in a can for later and used the rest to make cornbread. You stirred the collards a bit, adding pepper and a little salt before turning the stove off. You glanced at the clock; 6pm, Alastor should be coming home soon.
After putting everything in pretty dishes and wrapping it in foil you sighed tiredly as you finally got off your feet, plopping down on a couch.
You almost wanted to go back into the kitchen and clean up, but thought to just wait after dinner to do so. 
You perked as your radio made a noise, static as if the channel had changed, before the voice of your husband came through.
”Well folks that is all. I have for you tonight! I hope you enjoyed today’s broadcast and I will see you tomorrow. I wouldn’t want to be late for dinner nonono haha. Until next time!”
You smiled, feeling happy he wasn’t going to stay at the studio all night.
With that in mind, you quickly ran upstairs to freshen up, wanting to greet your husband without the smell of grease clinging to you.
“I’m home!” A voice called as the sound of the front door closing had you rushing downstairs.
Alastor was taking off his coat, when you greeted him “Oh let me take that” you smiled, grabbing his coat to put it away. He let out a relieved sigh as he removed his shoes and put them by the door. Once comfortable, his long arms were around your waist, pulling you into a kiss “And how was my beautiful wife today hmm?” He asked bringing a dainty hand to his lips. You giggled “Oh nothing worth mentioning. How was work today? I heard you signing off. I hate that I missed tonight’s broadcast” you mused, untying his bow tie. Alastor hummed “oh you know same ole same ole, through I will say I got a lot of fan mail today” he chuckled as you rolled your eyes. He took a whiff of the air and grinned “Hmm looks like I actually made it in time for dinner”
You both made your way to the kitchen and you immediately went to fix his plate, while he got glasses out of the cabinet and some red wine.
Alastor practically had drool coming out of his mouth as the smell of food wafted into his nose. You took a seat across from him and smiled. “My my my dear what a meal youve prepared tonight!” He commented as he took a bite out of the cornbread, moaning in delight.
It always filled your heart with happiness seeing Alastor eat your food. When you first got married, you didn’t have a clue on how to cook. It was rather embarrassing, but you had grown up with personal cooks.
But Alastor didn’t mind teaching you, and soon enough you were whipping up delicious meals that filled his stomach, rather than upset it.
Dinner was quiet as the two of you enjoyed each others company, Alastor making comments about the lastest gossip he had heard and you catching him on the neighborhood gossip. “Oh before I forget,  Mimzy wants to know if you wanted to swing by the lounge this weekend. Something about I keep you to myself too much” Alastor laughed, swiping at his mouth. You laughed, that sounded like Mimzy. Always hoping to get a chance at you singing on stage so she could make a few extra bucks. “Well tell ‘er not this weekend, I have plans to host a few of the ladies for book club. Rosie is sure to have some gossip I’ve missed.” 
Alastor quirked a brow “You sure dear? I fear Mimzy will chew me a new one if she don’t get to see ou” You mulled it over “Well book club usually don’t take that long and its during tea time so I guess I don’t mind gracing the lounge with my presence” you giggled, getting up and taking your empty dishes to the sink. Alastor followed you and quickly swatted your hands as you reached to turn the sink on. 
“Now now my dear, you spent all evening cooking the least I can do is wash the dishes. The chef shouldn’t cook and clean” he nudged you away from the sink as you pouted.
It never ceased to amazed you that Alastor took on household chores. Most husbands had their wives cook and clean, but not your Alastor.
He didn’t like you to tire out from maintaining the home all day.
You pressed a kiss to his cheek in thanks and told him you’ll be upstairs getting ready for bed.
You had just finished rolling your hair when Alastor came up to your bedroom. You sighed as you sunk into the cool cotton sheets, finally relaxing for the day. You didn’t realized you had quickly fell asleep until feeling Alastor slide into bed beside you, arm pulling you to tuck you into his side and rest your head on his chest.
You happily cuddled into him, breathing in his scent as the sound of his heartbeat lulled you back to sleep.
A yawn passed your lips as began to fall asleep
”Goodnight” 
”Sleep tight dear”
”Don’t let the bedbugs bite”
”haha see you in the morning light love” he whispered pressing a kiss to your forehead as you sighed, chest heaving in deep breaths.
Alastor smiled at your sleeping face; how lucky was he to have a sweet wife who worked so hard while he was gone. His eyes grew heavy as he listened to your soft snores.
What bliss. He wouldn’t give this up for anything in the world.
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NOTE: aaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhh why and how did my mind conjure this when I have other things to write eeeeeeehhhh!!!!!!!
Anyway….this is gonna be ANOTHER short story hehehe. Since I wrote it on a whim it might take some time for me to post the next part but I hope y’all enjoy it nevertheless!
Remember to comment on the pinned post as I have a hard time finding everyone to tag since y’all are scattered on different posts!
if i missed anyone my bad!!!!
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