#yeah I’m stoned as fuck is this funny

[mitten-kittens420]

You know how dogs tilt their heads up to look bigger when they are small

Case in point

[osaemu]

GOJO SATORU: GUILTY CONSCIENCE

✩ ‧ ˚. serial killer!au: ever since that first night, you can't get him off your mind—and even though you handed him over to law enforcement, it looks like he still wants you too. PART 1 | NSFW

contents: fem!reader. porn with plot, dubcon, semi-public sex (in a bathroom), oral (m. receiving), fingering (f. receiving), pet names (detective, princess, smart girl, pretty girl, etc.), gojo cums in your mouth. non-sexual threatening. non-sexual usage of knives/guns. more plot than porn. this is not good for you btw !!! 4K words.

author's note: pls appreciate your smut writers bc this shit is hard !!!! the sk!series might be over after this one bc i'm not feeling it anymore, but nothing's set in stone yet. posting this for the ppl who wanted a part two, but personally i would've just left it as a standalone.. oh well, i didn't want 4K words to go to waste, so enjoy 🤍

“satoru gojo, what are we going to do with you?” your subordinate asks, resting his hands on the table dividing the dim interrogation room in two. you and your coworker sit on one side, facing the serial killer on the other side—who also happens to be the man you fucked in an alley two weeks ago.

ever since that first encounter, you haven’t been able to get his face out of your mind. at work, his ice blue eyes haunted your every move. at home, he was all you could picture as your mind strayed back to your time beneath him. and now, as you and your boss interrogate him, all you can think about is how good satoru’s hands felt roaming over your skin when you cornered him—or, more accurately, when he cornered you.

“i dunno,” satoru replies, leaning back in his chair and resting his hands behind his head. he grins shamelessly, looking you up and down with interest. “so, pretty girl, how’ve you been since we last met?”

you slip your hands into your pockets to stop yourself from doing something you’ll regret and ignore the curious look your coworker gives you. “this meeting isn’t about me. this is about the people you killed and the punishment you’re about to get,” you answer through gritted teeth.

satoru laughs, eyes locking with yours and seeing right through you. “that’s funny. so, who’s this shrimpy guy next to you? your boyfriend?” he jeers, grinning unnervingly at your coworker. you shoot your subordinate an apologetic look, which he responds to with a nod.

“i’m her boss, actually,” he clarifies, running a hand through his blonde hair and narrowing his eyes. “kento nanami. and i’ve been referred to as a lot of things, but shrimpy is a first.” satoru makes a face and laughs, as if he’s amused by the whole scene. 

“really? i’m surprised,” satoru replies easily. “i mean, whatever. i’ve seen better looking officers… like the one next to you.” he looks back at you, a careless smile still dancing on his lips. kento frowns and looks back and forth from you to satoru, and you force yourself to maintain a poker face in order to detract any suspicion.

“do you two know each other?” kento asks, crossing his arms. satoru starts laughing again, to which you roll your eyes. even if satoru were to tell kento what you hadn’t—that you two had fucked when you were supposed to be arresting him—you doubted that kento would believe him. after all, what’s the word of an obnoxious criminal compared to yours?

you shake your head and ignore satoru. “i’m the one who’s been leading the investigation on him for the past couple months,” you answer. kento meets your eyes and cocks an eyebrow, so you continue, “we met two weeks ago. i cornered him, but he escaped—”

“she let me,” satoru interjects, clearly enjoying the death glare you shoot at him a second later.

“you held a gun to my forehead,” you remind him pointedly, tapping the spot on your head where you vividly remember the cold metal resting against. 

“yeah, but i kissed it aft—”

“we’re getting off-topic,” kento interrupts, shooting you a warning glance. “detective, i’ll handle the interrogation from here.”

you hesitate, not liking how smug satoru’s expression is—but, seeing as you don’t have a choice, you dip your head in assent and exit the room. 

now that satoru’s been caught and is now in the grasp of the law, you don’t really have anything to do for the rest of the day. he was your case, and now, it looks like it’s closed, especially if your boss is the one interrogating him.

kento nanami has a reputation among law enforcement—he’s known as the stoic, serious man with a perfect record. there hasn’t been a single criminal he’s interrogated that hasn’t cracked, although the knot in your stomach tells you that this might be the first.

a sharp knock sounds on your office door, summoning you back from your train of thought. “it’s open,” you call, holding a piping hot coffee with both hands. kento opens the door and steps inside, eyebrows unusually tensed. his hands are balled into fists, too, in stark contrast to his characteristically calm demeanor. 

“something wrong?” you ask tentatively, studying your boss’s troubled eyes.

kento takes a seat in the leather chair in the corner of your office and rests his elbow on the armrest, rubbing his temples. “detective, be honest with me. what happened the night you were supposed to arrest satoru gojo?”

for the first time since satoru pinned you to the wall of a darkened alley, your heart drops. kento’s knowing eyes watch your every move, from the subtle twitch in your eye to the way your fingers tense around the cup of coffee. “what do you mean?” you ask carefully, surprised at how steady your own voice is.

“detective, don’t play games with me,” kento asserts calmly, hand casually drifting towards the side of his waist. you know him well enough to know what he’s reaching for—the same instrument that another man pressed against your forehead just two weeks ago.

despite your mind being clouded with fear and uncertainty, you manage to rationalize your way through the situation. what proof could your boss possibly have besides the word of a criminal? 

it’s your word against his—and you both know whose word kento’ll believe.

“that night, he threatened to kill me,” you start, repeating the story you told the authorities when they came ten minutes too late to catch satoru. “and he must’ve drugged me or knocked me unconscious because next thing i knew, he was gone.” your confidence grows with every word, and you start nodding as if you believe your own lies.

kento’s eyes narrow, and you force yourself to hold your poker face as he scrutinizes you and your words. three long, painful seconds of silence pass before his hand moves away from the holster strapped to his waist, and you internally sigh in relief. he stands without a word and makes to exit the room, but before he does, you risk it all. “why do you ask, sir?”

your boss pauses and turns back to you, eyebrows lifting in mild interest. he doesn’t answer immediately, and you tentatively ask, “...what did he tell you?”

kento exhales a soft huff of air, a look of dread in his brown eyes. “detective, for your own peace of mind, i assure you that you don’t want to know.”

well, fuck.

“i trust your judgement, then,” you reply, feeling your poker face start to slip away. you lift your now-cold cup of coffee to your lips and take a sip, attempting to hide the grimace that threatens to make an appearance. “have a good night, boss.”

“you too, detective. stay safe.”

“i’ll do my best.”

kento nods and heads out, and through your open window you watch him tell another one of your coworkers about how he’s planning on heading out early to make bread for his family, a gentle smile on his lips. eventually, he waves bye and exits the building.

you finish off your coffee and stand up, fishing out your key card from your pocket. you figure that you should head to the bathroom before you go home, just in case. a couple of your coworkers congratulate you when you come out of your office, praising you on the capture of your suspect. you take their compliments with a smile, ultimately wishing them a good night and escaping to the bathroom.

the door clicks shut behind you, and the comfortable quiet eases you at once. but before you can even appreciate the silence of the confined room, a sultry, familiar voice interrupts your thoughts. “aw, you weren’t gonna say bye before you left?”

you turn and your mouth drops open—standing before you, in the flesh, is the criminal you swore you last saw handcuffed to a chair.

“what the fu—”

satoru reaches out and grabs your wrist before you can scurry away or grab your phone. he pulls you into his chest, and you can feel his heartbeat against your back—at least, that’s what you notice before he clamps his hand over your mouth to stifle your yells.

“shut it,” satoru hisses, breath hot against the side of your face. he turns you towards the mirror of the bathroom so you can see how he’s holding you—one hand over your mouth, and one wrapped around your waist. “don’t try anything clever, sweetheart. i wouldn’t wanna have to hurt that pretty face of yours.”

you turn your head and glare at him furiously, cussing like a sailor against his hand. you eventually try to bite it, but your meager attack is essentially useless against his iron grip. satoru raises his eyebrows sternly and hushes you again, ice-blue eyes boring into your own. 

“i’ll answer your questions, honey, but be careful,” he pauses and nods at his pocket, where the handle of what appears to be a knife—how the fuck did he get his hands on a knife?—pokes out of the cloth. “okay, i’m gonna take my hand off your mouth now,” he murmurs, purposefully lowering his voice.

true to his word, satoru removes his hand from your mouth. you take a long breath and hesitate—again, there’s not much you can do in this situation but play along. if he’s telling the truth, you can ask questions and he can answer them, so you try your hand at getting some information and biding time. someone would have to walk in the bathroom eventually, right?

“by the way,” satoru starts, a grin curving the corners of his lips upward. “nobody’s gonna come save you, princess. the door’s locked from the inside.” he also removes his hand from your waist, letting you take a step back.

“how?” you ask suspiciously, unsure if he’s telling the truth or not.

satoru laughs—his hair falls into his eyes, and immediately shakes it away with a huff of breath. “i’m good with my hands. but you already know that, don’t ya?”

you back away towards the other side of the bathroom, where sinks line the quartz countertop. “why aren’t you still in the interrogation room?”

“you think you’re the only girl i can convince to let me go?” satoru tuts, clicking his tongue disapprovingly. he reaches into his pocket—not the one with the knife—and extracts a badge of some sort. satoru flicks it at you, and you catch it in midair. to your surprise, it’s the badge of one of your superiors who was supposed to be keeping an eye on satoru. the coy smile on satoru’s face confirms what you’re thinking, and his nod seals it the next second. 

“okay,” you say carefully, drawing out the word for a couple seconds. “how long have you been waiting here?”

“long enough,” satoru answers vaguely, not bothering to elaborate.

“thanks a lot,” you deadpan.

“nice to see that you’re still feisty—”

“and what the hell did you tell my boss?” you interrupt, suddenly remembering the dread-filled way kento had looked at you. the way your voice rises is unexpected enough to force satoru to involuntarily take a step back. it’s not much, but the step you take forward a second later to assert your position brings you a small feeling of satisfaction. after all, he’s only human—and all humans get surprised by loud noises.

satoru holds up his hands in mock surrender and eyes you skeptically. “you’re really worried about your boss’s approval, aren’t you?” he asks dryly, white hair falling into his eyes again. “heh, desperate much?”

you roll your eyes and curl your hands into fists—unfortunately, your action only seems to amuse satoru, but you ignore the little “aw” he coos and continue glaring at him. “answer the fucking question, satoru.”

“language,” he snorts. a second later, satoru cocks his head and thinks for a moment, and when his eyes land on you again he asks, “so, you’re still callin’ me satoru? cute.”

your face involuntarily heats up, and even though you’re sure satoru can tell, you pretend not to notice—again. “answer the question or i’ll scream.”

“you wouldn’t dare.”

“wouldn’t i?”

you don’t get the chance to fufill your threat, because satoru sees that you’re serious a second too early—everything’s a blur as he grabs your wrists and bunches them into one hand, firmly securing your hands behind your back. his chest rests on top of your back as he folds you over the bathroom counter, and his reflection leers at you from the mirror. “nice try, baby. but remember, you’re dealin’ with a world-class serial killer.”

“world-class? how humble of you,” you snap irritably, craning your neck to glare at satoru out of the corner of your eye. “you asshole, get off me or i’ll—”

satoru interrupts you by prodding at your lips with two of his fingers, forcing your mouth open and slipping them inside. you instantly attempt to bite him, but his fingers are so long that they trigger your gag reflex instead. “missed me, detective?” satoru coos, curling his fingers downwards and pressing on your tongue. a little whine involuntarily slips out of your lips, and satoru takes that as a yes. “yeah, i can tell,” he continues, studying your heated face in the reflection of the mirror. “i bet you couldn’t stop thinkin’ about me since that night, yeah?”

he doesn’t bother waiting for a response before he extracts his fingers and leaves you gasping for breath. you watch as satoru lifts his now-soaked fingers to his lips and runs his tongue over them, ice-blue eyes boring into your own. it’s disgusting, filthy even, but that doesn’t stop your thighs from clenching together in a futile attempt to hide your arousal from him.

“y’know, i think you’re wearing too many clothes,” satoru sighs, resting his chin on top of your head and smiling coyly. “wanna fix that for me?”

“do i have a choice?”

“no.” satoru pushes himself off of you and gives you enough space to start removing your clothes without his smothering presence. the idea of running away or screaming crosses your mind, but the serial killer’s smile makes you certain that you’d regret it—and that’s even disregarding the knife that’s still shining at you from his pocket. 

seeing as you don’t really have any other option, you slowly shrug off your coat and let it slide down your body and onto the floor. your collared shirt comes off next, followed by your pants, until there’s hardly anything shielding you from satoru’s hungry eyes. the feeling stirring in the pit of your stomach is hard to describe—it’s something like a mix between longing and fear, two emotions you hadn’t felt since that night.

and maybe, even though every instinct you have insists that this is the last thing you should be finding pleasure in, you want to feel that way again.

“you really coulda been anything in the world with that body,” satoru sighs, leaning back against a wall and taking his sweet time looking you up and down. his eyes narrow slyly as he watches you shrink away from him instinctually, and the next thing you know, he’s on you again, hands tracing over your skin and lips unbearably close to yours. “although, i guess it’s a good thing you’re a detective, ‘cause i wouldn’t have met you if you weren’t.”

you shouldn’t be agreeing with him, and as he lifts you up onto the counter, you also know that you shouldn’t be letting him do this. it goes against everything you swore to protect when you joined law enforcement, and if this ever got out—no, when it got out, you’d be the pariah of the city.

but even after thinking it through, one, two, maybe even three times, you can’t find it in your heart to care about much else than the hands pushing apart your thighs and slipping inside your shamelessly wet cunt.

“heh, how long has it been since we last did this?” satoru coos, eyes glazing over with a mixture of lust and adoration. his face is redder than you’ve ever seen it—the blush spreads all the way up to the tips of his ears, and it’s even more prominent underneath the overhead lights as he eyes you. “two weeks, right? feels like it’s been twenty.”

“do you ever shut up?” you mutter sourly, averting your eyes from satoru’s. he responds by curling up the two fingers he has inside your cunt, a mean little smile on his lips. 

“careful with that mouth of yours,” satoru warns, pushing his fingers in farther until he’s practically knuckle-deep inside of you. his thumb rests firmly against your clit, toying with the sensitive skin. “it’ll get you in trouble one day, pretty girl…” satoru withdraws his fingers in one swift motion with a soft, wet pop. he lifts his hand to his lips and licks off your slick, swiping his tongue over his fingers a couple times with a smile. “y’know what? i’ll let you go if you can do one thing for me, ‘kay?”

he waits for your response, raising an eyebrow patiently for you to catch your breath. it almost feels like deja vu, or some cheesy movie from the 90’s: the pretty little detective getting fucked by the big bad serial killer, and you know how these films always ended—not pretty.

“what?” you ask halfheartedly, expecting him to ask you to do something like erase him from the police records or sabotage the investigation. satoru cups your face with both hands, leaning in close enough for his lips to brush against yours, and his smile is almost mocking when he replies.

“suck my dick.”

part of you wants to ask “that’s it?”, but the glimmer in satoru’s knowing eyes makes you certain that he won’t make this easy for you. 

“what if i say no?” you ask tentatively. it’s a stupid question—now you’re just playing russian roulette with his rationality, and either way, you already know your decision.

the past two weeks have been torture. every waking moment of yours was spent thinking about the man you fucked, and every time you thought of his carefree smile and feather-light touch, you just felt guilty for wanting more. after all, when you first became a detective, you swore to prioritize your job and not make any personal relationships with your subjects. and yet, here you were, almost too eager to get on your knees for the serial killer who you swore to incapacitate. 

satoru shrugs nonchalantly in response to your question and not-so-subtly shoots a furtive glance at his pocket, where the handle of his knife still pokes out. “you’re a smart girl. i think you can guess, yeah?”

and that’s how you ended up with your lips wrapped around satoru’s dick for the seventh time (if you include every fantasy you’ve had about giving him head). it’s almost funny how he switches up the second you run your tongue over his blushing pink tip—his face goes red, all the way up to his ears, and the little breathy moans that slip out of his lips would be adorable in any other context but this.

“f-fuck, wasn’t expecting you to be this good,” he manages to mutter through gritted teeth, eyes fluttering open and shut. “where’d you learn to suck dick like this, heh—”

it’s been.. a while since satoru first helped you get on your knees in front of him and unzipped his pants, and even though it could’ve just been a couple minutes, it feels like this is all you’ve ever known. satoru’s ice blue eyes have barely moved from you since you started, and it looks like it’ll stay like that until you finish—or, more accurately, until he finishes.

satoru’s foot bounces on the floor as you lick a long stripe from the tip of his dick to the top of it, and the way his nails dig into his palm makes you absolutely certain that he’s close to cumming down your throat. “shit, don’t— don’t stop,” he chokes out, threading his fingers through your hair and involuntarily pushing down your head. “fuck—”

when satoru finally cums, it’s pitifully obvious—actually, it’s almost embarrassing. last time, you were the one in shambles when he was done with you, but now, it looks like it’s the other way around. his eyes flicker as they almost roll back from the sheer pleasure of you sucking him dry, and when satoru’s cum shoots out of his painfully hard dick, it’s a hot mess that leaks out of your mouth and down your chin. 

“y-yeah, good girl,” he murmurs shakily, reaching down and swiping his thumb over your cum-soaked, swollen lips. you lick off the thick, viscous liquid from his fingers instinctually, a dazed little smile on your face as you watch satoru tilt his head back towards the ceiling.

it’s interesting, seeing the city’s infamous serial killer like this. he’s leaning back against the white tile of the bathroom walls, chest heaving from his orgasm, and in that moment, you realize that his attention is on everything else but you. 

so, naturally, you stab him in the back.

not literally—that’d be a pain for your office’s custodian to clean up, but you extract the knife from satoru’s discarded pants and, before he can register the sharp object in your shaky hand, you press it to his blush-red throat. 

satoru’s hazy eyes widen in disbelief as he realizes what’s going on before they narrow in what looks almost like a mix between anger and shock. it’s stupid, foolish, and almost naive, but somewhere in your chest, it feels like a dagger pokes at your softened heart when you categorize the look in his eyes as betrayal. which is, by all accounts, entirely unreasonable—did he seriously think you wouldn’t take advantage of him like this?

at the end of the day, no matter how good the dick was, you weren’t about to sacrifice your well-paying job for a man on the run from the law.

“what the fuck?” satoru snaps, hand twitching in a movement to throw you off of him, but thankfully, the sudden shift in atmosphere heightened your instincts to a point where nothing could possibly catch you off-guard. you dig in the knife a millimeter deeper into his throat, avoiding eye contact with the man you just made cum with your mouth. “are you—”

“yeah, i am,” you assert, biding time. as much as you’d like to pretend that you’re completely in control of the situation, there’s only so long that you can hold up this stalemate. satoru’s stronger than you physically, and the second he figures out a way to handle the knife pressed to his neck, he’d get his revenge.

satoru comes to this conclusion about as fast as you did, and his lips curve upwards in a jeering smile. the look in his eyes is borderline insane when he snarls, “nobody’s gonna rescue you from me, princess. just you wait—”

and, with perfect comedic timing, the bathroom door opens, and one of your female co-workers steps in. you’ve never talked to her much, but thankfully, her instincts are even faster than yours.

what happens next goes by in a haze. your co-worker holds a gun to the side satoru’s head, and calls for backup. then, a handful of sleepy-eyed police officers haul away a cursing and fighting satoru to who-knows-where.

but just before he’s out of sight, satoru shoots you an unsettlingly calm look. and as if that wasn’t concerning enough, the last words he mouths to you are “this isn’t over.”

[hp-hcs]

i didn’t realize the riddle brothers were a "buy one get one free" type of deal, but alright — simp! overprotective! yandere! riddle brothers x gn! oblivious! bullied! slytherin! reader

requested by 🎀!

2.5k words, not to brag 😌

i love writing the bros’ interactions with each other as like, actual sibling-core yk? they r just so cutie patootie

the reader's patronus makes an appearance in this, but i tried to make it as accessible to everyone as possible, so it's never explicitly stated what animal it is. it is implied that it’s able-to-fit-under-a-table sized though

also this is totally just pre-slash nothing that interesting happens

warnings: couple mentions of blood, mild descriptions of wounds, implied violence, implied bullying, murder

not edited!! this is my first like, really long fic so constructive criticism is welcome!

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

A well-timed shove to the small of your back sent you tumbling down an entire flight of moving stairs. 

You groaned as you hit the bottom, sprawled out on your back on the cold stone floor. You laid there for a moment, winded. You could hear the occupants of a nearby painting titter at your gracefulness (or lack thereof), so you rolled your head to the other side to give them an award winning smile and an unabashed middle finger. 

You could hear them all grumble about kids these days and how I never would’ve treated my elders this way. You just rolled your eyes at their pettiness. 

“Uh…what are you doing?” A decidedly alive voice interrupted your momentary satisfaction.

“Ah- evening, Riddle!” You said cheerily as soon as you recognized the speaker, scrambling to your feet and dusting off your uniform. “Nothing! Just…tripped. Couldn’t see very well in the dark, that’s all.”

Tom blinked, his lips twisted into a frown. “.....Fine. But don’t let me catch you out of bed past curfew again. You’re a Slytherin, for Salazar’s sake. Act like it.”

And that was it. Tom turned on his heel and continued down the hall without another word. Tom Riddle: prefect, teacher’s pet, and obnoxious hardass extraordinaire—he just...let you go, with no threats of detention or loss of house points. 

Huh. 

~~~

Tom, having just returned from a full night’s shift of prefect hall duty, flopped face-down onto his bed, his cheeks aflame as he let out a muffled shriek into his pillow. 

His brother, in the process of getting dressed for the day, paused at the scene in front of him. 

“Dude, what’s your deal?” 

“L/n,” Tom said by way of explanation, kicking his feet as he shrieked into his pillow again. “They acknowledged me. And they know my last name.”

“Most people know our last name, Tom,” Mattheo rolled his eyes.

“No- you don’t understand,” Tom said emphatically. “L/n is like…the cutest person to ever exist. And they’re so sweet, and smart, and funny, and-”

“And terrified of us?”

“Well…”

Mattheo rolled his eyes, putting his hands on his hips. “You talk about them too much. It’s getting insufferable.”

Tom just scowled and flicked his fingers to cast a wandless spell that straightened Mattheo’s tie and neatened his uniform. “The way you dress is insufferable. Slob.”

Mattheo stuck out his tongue at his brother before ruffling Tom’s hair to purposely mess it up. “Dick.”

“Idiot.”

~~~

Mattheo glanced up at you as you hovered uncertainly by the corner of his desk. 

“Can I sit here…?” You mumbled shyly, your cheeks flushing as the pretty dark-haired boy in your year smiled up at you.

“Course!” He grinned brightly before realizing that might have been too enthusiastic of a reply for eight in the morning and quickly tried to cover up his slip. “Uh…Y/n, right? I’m Mattheo.”

“Yeah, I know who you are.”

Mattheo’s stomach dropped.

Fuck, that’s not good.

“You let me copy your homework in third year for that essay on the properties of wormwood, or whatever.” You said offhandedly, like it wasn’t batshit insane to remember that pointlessly tiny detail. “Thank you for that, by the way. Potions sucks ass.”

Before Mattheo could even think, the words left his mouth. “I could tutor you if you want.”

You looked at him oddly, but grinned after a second. “Yeah, sure. That’d actually be really helpful. Snape hates me, man.”

“Really? Even though you’re in Slytherin?”

“Mhm, his baseless nepotism only extends so far.”

Mattheo barked out a startled laugh as your deadpan humor caught him off guard. You just grinned at him in response, causing the tips of his ears to immediately burn bright red.

He cleared his throat awkwardly, ducking his head in embarrassment. “Um…do you wanna meet in the library after school today? For our tutoring session,” Mattheo hurriedly added. 

“Sure, alright.” You shrugged. “See you there.”

He beamed, giving you that stupidly adorable grin once more. “Awesome! Yeah- yeah, cool. Awesome. See you there then.”

~~~

You were still shit at potions.

It had been six weeks of tutoring, and you’d learned pretty much nothing. Although, that wasn’t an issue on Mattheo’s part, but rather on his annoyingly hot older brother’s. 

Tom Riddle was surprisingly funny. For someone who gave off almost exclusively stoically austere bastard vibes, he enjoyed cracking jokes and enlisting your help in pulling pranks on his brother a bit too much.

It became your routine. Every Tuesday and Thursday after school, you would meet the two brothers in the library, waste like three hours joking around and getting absolutely no work done, and then going back to your dorm and ranting to your roommate about how fucking cute they are and how you would gladly pay for the opportunity to make out with one- no, both of them. 

(Your roommate is so fucking tired of hearing about the Riddles. You’d better buy them a latte and a cake-pop as an apology.)

~~~

You struggled to get up, your legs giving out. You cursed under your breath, putting a hand to your forehead as it throbbed in pain. 

It came away sticky with blood. 

This wasn’t going to work, you realized belatedly. With what remained of your strength, you were able to reach out and grab your wand, murmuring a quiet, “Expecto Patronum.”

A spectral creature formed in front of your eyes, remaining motionless as it stared at you. 

“Go find Riddle,” you mumbled to the Patronus, your eyelids growing heavy. 

You barely registered the wispy glowing animal immediately bounding off at your instructions, your vision doubling before your body went completely slack, the wand slipping from your fingers and hitting the tile floor with a clatter. 

~~~

Mattheo doodled mindlessly in the margins of his parchment as his brother droned on and on about the properties of willow bark in potions and really, this is important, Mattheo. Pay attention.

“Why isn’t Y/n here yet?” Mattheo asked his brother for the third time. 

Tom rolled his eyes. “I don’t know, Matt. Just like how I didn't know when you asked me five minutes ago. Maybe they just don’t want to see your stupid face any more, huh?”

“What if they’re in trouble? Or hurt?” Mattheo worried, chewing on his thumbnail and ignoring his brother’s insult. “They’re never late, Tommy.”

Tom wrinkled his nose at the use of the dumb (albeit endearing) nickname Mattheo gave him when they were children, but the sinking feeling in his gut at hearing his brother’s distressed tone didn’t help to ease the niggling worries at the back of his mind of maybe they are in trouble.

As if on cue, Mattheo shivered as something icy cold brushed against his ankles. He glanced down. A glowing spectral creature nudged his leg, looking up at him expectantly with unnervingly empty eyes. 

A Patronus. 

Y/n’s Patronus.

~~~

They followed the Patronus down the deserted hall, the animal occasionally pausing to make sure the boys were both still following it before bounding forward again.

The Patronus stopped in front of a bathroom door, giving them both that same unnervingly hollow-eyed stare of expectancy.

Tom gulped and pushed open the door, fearing that he might find the worst.

He did.

~~~

Your eyes cracked open slowly, and you winced at the multitude of stinging and stabbing pains that wracked your body.

You had to blink a couple times for everything to come into focus. You were in a small room with white walls and white flooring, and the gentle dawn illuminated the quiet space with soft rays of light. The steady beep of a vitals monitor faded into the background as you stared down at yourself.

You weren’t wearing a shirt, for one, or even a hospital gown. Pretty much your entire upper torso was wrapped in bloodstained gauze. The jagged edges of a brutal slash across your chest peeked out of the top of the dressings, and you had to close your eyes and hold your breath for a moment to keep from throwing up. Once you’d calmed back down, you opened your eyes, startled to see that you weren’t alone.

Mattheo had pulled up a chair to the side of your hospital bed and crossed his arms on the mattress, using them as a makeshift pillow. His dark lashes fanned across his cheeks, his breaths slow and even. He looked so peaceful and...unguarded in his sleep. You reached down to brush a loose curl away from his forehead.

“Having fun?”

You startled, jerking your hand back. 

Tom leaned against the doorframe of your room with an amused expression, quirking an eyebrow and wiggling his fingers in a wave.

“Shut up,” you hissed back in a whisper, your cheeks flaring red. 

Tom’s amused grin only grew at your dark blush as he invited himself into your room fully, closing the door behind him.

 “Your secret’s safe with me.” He jokingly winked, tapping the side of his nose.

“You’re insufferable.”

“So I’ve been told.”

“What am I doing here?” You quickly changed topics, refusing to even look down in Mattheo’s direction. 

Tom sighed, any amusement on his face rapidly vanishing. “You sent us a Patronus, thank Merlin. Pomfrey said you would’ve bled out if you hadn’t.”

You had no memory of casting the Patronus charm at all, but you trusted Tom’s recollection of events better than your own jumbled and spotty one. “Bled out?” You questioned, your heart hammering in your throat as your voice climbed an octave in anxiety.

Tom nodded, his face carefully schooled into a blank and neutral expression. “You were hit with the Sectumsempra spell. You've been out for three days now.”

Your brow furrowed. “Malfoy got hit with that last year though—and was in and out of the infirmary in less than a day.”

“Snape knew the counterspell and found ‘im just in time last year,” Mattheo mumbled sleepily, his eyes still closed as he tuned into the conversation at hand. “But whoever hit you with it just left you there to die.”

“Charming.” You mutter under your breath.

“Regardless of what happened in Malfoy’s instance,” Tom interrupted briskly. “You were on the brink of literal death. So I’ll ask you this one time and one time only. Who did it, Y/n?”

~~~

“I brought you a cookie from the Great Hall,” Mattheo grinned widely, climbing into your hospital bed next to you and unwrapping the napkin in his hand. “And the notes from today’s Charms lesson, but those’re boring and we both know you won’t actually read ‘em.”

“Aww, you know me so well.” You teased, breaking the cookie in half and handing him one of the pieces.

Mattheo cupped the cookie fragment in his hands like it was a priceless treasure, staring down at it in unrestrained awe. 

You just shook your head at his antics and brushed the odd reaction off.

~~~

You woke up this morning and just felt like shit. You were nauseous, and dizzy, and felt borderline faint. Tom’s voice, usually soothing and comforting to hear, sounded like nails on a chalkboard right now. He rambled on and on about the delicate process of making the temperamental Felix Felicis potion. 

“Tom,” you interrupted, your voice scratchy and quiet. “Can we take a break? Please?”

He blinked, surprised at being interrupted, but nodded slowly. “I suppose…? Why?”

“Don’t feel good,” you mumbled, setting your textbook down and rubbing your eyes. 

“I wouldn’t expect you to,” Madame Pomfrey said brusquely as she bustled around your hospital room, shooing Tom out of the way to stand by your bedside. 

(Poppy Pomfrey remains the only person who can and has shooed Tom Riddle III and lived to tell the tale—and all without a single ounce of fear.)

“I’ve raised your dosage so that you can be out of here in time for your N.E.W.T.s.” Pomfrey elaborated upon seeing your confused look.

“Fantastic.” You mumbled dryly, grinning sleepily up at Tom as he grabbed onto your hand and interlaced your fingers together. He ignored the way his heart skipped a beat in favor of letting you hold his sweaty palm.

“Go to sleep, L/n,” Tom muttered under his breath. “Potions can wait.”

~~~

Tom lay in your hospital bed beside you, running his thumb over your knuckles. “Please? We promise we won’t do anything.”

“Yeah,” Mattheo chimed in from the other side of your crowded bed, one arm tossed over your waist as he rested his chin on your shoulder. “Or at least, nothing we’ll get caught for.”

You sigh, tired of their ceaseless pleading. “Alright, alright, fine. I’ll tell you who it was.”

Both boys leaned in close.

You sigh again and roll your eyes at their overprotectiveness. “Alright, it was-”

~~~

Tucker Thompson and Devin Dobbs: Gryffindor Sixth Years Found MURDERED at Hogwarts! Dumbledore: “No comment at this time.”

You tilted the newspaper so Madame Pomfrey could read the article over your shoulder as she replaced your IV bag. 

Pomfrey just sighed and rolled her eyes. “I don’t understand how Skeeter is still employed at the Prophet.”

“Cause shock value will always hold weight in the media?” You answered dryly around a mouthful of depressingly plain infirmary wing toast. “And Skeeter’s good at nothing if not coming up with bullshit shock value titles.”

“That may be true,” she began, snatching the paper from your hands. “But patients shouldn’t be reading about such dark subjects, and certainly not while under my care. And don’t talk while eating. I rather like your company, and would hate to see you choke.”

You rolled your eyes at her suffocatingly motherly behavior. “So are they? Thompson and Dobbs; they’re really dead?”

Madame Pomfrey hesitated.

You let out a relieved breath of air that you tried (and failed) to hide behind a cough. “That’s…terrible.”

She narrowed her eyes and studied you for a long moment, her fingers mindlessly worrying the deckle edge of the newspaper in her hands. “It was them, wasn’t it? Your boys.”

“My boys?”

“Yes, yes, Riddles one and two. Your boys.”

“Oh- we’re not…”

She raised an eyebrow, pursing her lips as she tried to hold back a laugh at the utter obliviousness of teenagers. “Do they know that, dear?”

You spluttered out a half-assed rebuke to her statement, but Pomfrey quickly interrupted you.

“They’ve been staying here for hours every day for the last month. They want more than just your friendship, hon.”

“No way. We’re just friends.” You insisted firmly. “That’s all.”

Madame Pomfrey rolled her eyes. “Uh huh. Friends. Keep telling yourself that.”

You stared after her, open-mouthed in bafflement, as she rolled up the Prophet, tucked it under her arm, and turned around without another word—leaving you with zero reading material and a million questions.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

you have to love how pomfrey could not give less of a fuck that the riddles murdered two students as long as she gets her ot3 absolutely iconic behavior

[absdoll]

oh my godddddd i just read your sub!Abby fic and i'm just thinking of a fic where reader 'doms' Abby but really she's just letting you have your fun and we all know who's still in charge :) oh my god i'm losing it please i just know you would make it so hot,,,,,,,, omg i'm giggling and twirling my hair

yesyesyesyesyes ♡ 💗💕 exactly nonnie ! <3

cw: ice play (almost) , dom!abby , daddy kink lol

“hands behind your back.” you sternly say to your blonde girlfriend, who is manspreading in front of you on your shared bed, you stood between her muscular legs.

“yes ma’am” she giggles back at you, totally taking this seriously, and pins her hands to the small of her back.

you roll your eyes at abby and puff out your chest, “what’s funny? don’t make me get rough with you.” you warn her.

“not funny baby, just cute.” she bats her eyes up at you, making your tummy explode with butterflies.

abby is always in charge. sex, plans, grocery lists, cleaning, abby is always the one handling everything. and as much as you love being under her control, today you wanted to give her a chance to relax and be tended to. but it’s abby, and abby won’t let that slide.

you point your finger to her broad chest, “lay back.” abby raises an eyebrow at you, following your orders. “you’re liking this, aren’t you princess?” abby teases.

“yeah, i am, princess” you tease back. abby can admit that she finds it hot how you’re being so demanding and tough, she knows at any second though she can bend you over her knee and you’ll be a whimpering obedient mess like you always are, but she’ll let you have your fun for now.

you pick up a cup that’s to your left, swirling around the melting ice cubes in it. abby’s gaze shifts to your hand, still shaking the cup. “baby…” she nervously breathes.

“i’m gonna take off your pants, okay?” you slide her grey sweatpants down her legs, biting your lip at the sight of her blue boxers, removing those too.

you plop an ice cube in your mouth, but abby abruptly grabs your jaw. “spit it out.” she demands. you shake your head out of her grasp, spitting the ice cube on her chest. “tss-ahh! what the fuck!” she hisses.

“i’m in charge, remember? don’t interrupt me again.” as you reach for the cup, abby has decided she’s had enough of this.

the burly blonde sits up, sliding her boxers back up to her waist. you watch as she blatantly disobeys your orders.

“here’s what gonna happen my sweet girl. you’re gonna lay down, take off those cute little panties, put your hands behind your back, and sit pretty until i tell you you can move, got it?” she hovers over you, awaiting your compliance.

“b-” you try to regain your “control” you had just a minute ago, but abby’s patience is long gone. “nuh uh baby, all i want to hear from that little mouth is yes daddy.”

abby walks out of the room, leaving you to process what’s about to happen. you do as you’re told because abby can get scary when disobeyed. her blue crystal eyes get dark, almost stone grey.

you’re naked, hands flat under your back, thighs pressing together trying to relieve the uncomfortable sensation pooling down there.

the door creaks slightly, abby’s tall build standing in the doorway, arm resting on the frame above her head. “aww good girl.” she smiles at you.

her strap is tucked in the band of her boxers, the black silicone tip peering from the top. “and good girls get rewarded, yeah?” she walks towards you, eyes locked with yours.

“spread your pussy for me doll” she coos, eyes widening at your milky cream dripping down your thigh.

abby slaps your sopping pussy, letting a long string of spit land on your throbbing nub.

“you ready?” she smirks, positioning herself at your center.

💕 @whore4abby @enbesbians @hersweetheart @picklesarenice69 @abbystoy ♡

a/n : HI MY BABIES OH MY GOD I MISSED U ANGELS SO MUCH ♡♡ feels like i haven’t written in years , ik u lot are patiently waiting on dealer!ellie & i promise promise promise she’s coming soon 🎀💕 enjoy this fun req i got awhile ago , sorry it took me so long nonnie !!!

[spicyyy-muffin]

Confessions

Mentions of punching, missiles, misogyny 

Genre: Fluff 

Simon Riley x Reader

--

Negotiating as a woman was the most frustrating, teeth pulling part of my job. 

Men didn‘t take me seriously. Especially when I was trying to get information out of them. 

“I’m gonna ask you one more time, who told you American missiles would be transported at that time, and at that location?”

He spat blood out on the floor smirking back up to me, “What will u give me if I tell you sweetheart?” 

My fist flew across his cheek again. I couldn’t say anything back because that would just add fuel to his fire and I refused to give him that satisfaction.  But his words are cold stones, sinking my stomach further into the ground. 

It was just Ghost and I in the room alone with him. 

“Tell me sergeant, do they take turns on you? Who leaves you the sorest-” 

It was Ghost’s fist flying this time. 

“It’s lieutenant. Watch your mouth or I’ll sew it shut.” 

“Ohhh full of threats, I bet you're the one that gets the most fucks in.” 

Ghost’s fist swung a couple more times before Price pulled the metal door aside and walked in. 

“Enough, back to base, both of you.” 

Ghost swiftly turned his head walking out without another word. 

Turning around to follow him, Price gripped my wrist. 

“The facade is fading lieutenant. You better tell him to rein it in before Shepard finds out and you're on a one way ticket back to the states without a brooding boyfriend.” 

His mustached face grinned staring down at me. 

“He’s not my boyfriend sir.” 

“Do you copy lieutenant?” 

“Copy.” 

I walked out following the hot path behind Ghost. 

His long legs moved swiftly in front of me making it hard to catch up. 

“Ghost.” 

He ignored me. 

“Ghost!” 

He kept walking. 

“Goddammit-” 

He turned around, I bumped into his chest and my cheeks were being held in the palms of his hands. 

“Why do you do this to me?” His eyes gleamed into mine expecting a response. 

I’m not sure what I expected him to say but it wasn’t that. 

Was he even blinking?

“What?”

“Do you know?” 

“Know what?” 

He shut his eyes in imitation pain. 

“How much you mean to me, do you know or not Lieutenant?”

His hands shook. 

“Yeah, yeah Ghost I know, what’s wrong with you?”

“You. You are my problem.” 

He took his hand off my cheek, pulling the bottom of his mask up and bringing his lips down to mine before I could rebuttal.

We stayed there for what I wished was forever but only a short amount of time before he pulled away. 

“I wanna take you away. Show you where I grew up, my favorite pubs, the shitty flat my mum raised me n my brothers in.” He shook his head in disapproval. 

“What’s wrong with wanting me to see that baby?” 

“No you don’t get it. I could care less if I ever saw Soap or Price again-” 

“That’s not true.”

“Y/n please.” His voice was vulnerable and shut me up quicker than a hot iron. 

“Be with me.” 

“I’m right here Ghost.” 

He pulled me closer into him. 

“No baby.” He smiled softly. “Just be with me. Be mine.”

I smiled back, stepping on my toes to press my lips against his. 

“You're funny if you think I’d be with anyone else.”

“Why cus I’ll cut their lips off?” 

I laughed against his mouth.

–

Walking through the cafeteria I felt a tap on my shoulder.

“So you n Ghost aye?” 

I smiled while putting some meatloaf on my plate. 

“Don’t know whatchu mean.” 

Soap laughed, “Full of shit, the both of you’s.” His eyes crinkled gleaming across the room to Ghost nonetheless. 

“Have you seen his face yet?” 

I paused, turning around, “Why? Sad you're not gonna be the one to sit on it anymore Mctavish?” I bit into my apple, smirking at him while walking away. 

Walking up close to my hunched over man staring directly into Alejandro. 

“Dunno ‘bout that one mate.”

I set my tray down as he looked up at me. 

“Ello love.” 

His arm slithered around my waist pushing me flush to his side. 

“Missed yeh.” He mumbled into my ear, pressing his face momentarily into my neck. 

It wasn't a large act of PDA, but noticeably enough among our peers. 

“Christ, is this what it’s gonna be like from now on?” Soap muttered sitting across from us. 

“Why are’you jealous Mctavish?” 

Soap stared incredulously at the two of us as Ghost’s hand slipped to my inner thigh. 

“For fuck’s sake, you two are made for eachother.”

--

Lmk what you think!

[just-another-author-i-guess]

Judd smut in Y/n's car? 😈

JUDD SMUT IN Y/N’S CAR !!!

Tags: fem! Reader, porn without plot, well I mean they talk like a little before they fuck, driving under the influence?, okay literally don’t do that pls idk why they did it in this fic, being low key inappropriate in front of kids, more weed smoking 🫶, judd has a HUGE HORSE COCK, he also degrades Y/n quite a bit, also like semi public sex??, it’s literally in a car, and once again very unprotected sex, PLEASE WRAP IT!!

Summary: they fuck in Y/n’s car after Judd got his taken away lmfao

Author’s note: SORRY this took me so long to write for some reason,, I hate school so much oml 😡 I was originally going to finish and post this yesterday but like then I got a bunch of unsolicited dick pics and I got scared and didn’t feel like writing smut anymore 🧍🏻🏃🏻‍♀️ anyways,, I’m back today and I’m fine, just traumatized. I love being a woman fr 💩

Judd smut in Y/n’s car

Word count; 3,9K

(smut under the cut)

Judd took a long drag of his cigarette, exhaling most of it through his nose but having the decency to turn his head slightly and exhaling the rest through the barely opened window. 

He flicked the burned tip out the window as well; cinder falling down and gathering in the cracks of where the window sat in the door. 

“You drive like a fucking grandma— drive faster,” He instructed.

You didn’t turn your head from the road. “I’m actually driving exactly what the speed limit allows. Fuck off. “ You grumbled.

The two of you were on the way back from one of Judd’s deals, which you were almost late to because Judd decided to leave 10 minutes behind schedule, forgetting you had to drive and refused to go too far over the speed limit. The deal itself had been pretty uninteresting; you sat in the car and watched as Judd handed the guy a plastic back and he handed your boyfriend the money. 

He got his car hijacked (parentsjacked) two weeks ago, because he got caught lighting an old building on fire. You were there too, actually, too drunk and stoned to care in the moment; but because Judd could be a pretty good boyfriend at times he covered up for you. 

“Yeah. Whatever. I need at least one of us to have a car.” He said, when you asked him about it. 

Immediately after, you had been prompted to Judd’s personal Uber. Not to mention he had to hide most of his,, not legal substances in the trunk of your car, hence why you were now even more adamant on following traffic rules as to not get pulled over by the cops. 

(Or found out by your mom, who already wasn’t a very big fan of your boyfriend) 

His raccoons had also made themselves at home in your backseat, at the moment the two of you were alone in the car but often there would be a couple of them napping in the back. 

Judd grumbled something in response that you didn’t quite hear, but you retorted; “Shut the fuck up. Why can’t you just act like a passenger princess, or something,” 

He opened and closed his mouth, cigarette hanging on his lips. “What the fuck did you just call me?” 

You smiled a little. “That’s what you are, babe. You’re my passenger princess,” 

Blinking slowly, he put the cigarette out in the ashtray he had placed between the front seats and stared at you blankly. “What the hell are you talking about? You think I look like a princess?” He was baffled. 

You suppressed a chuckle, and turned your head quickly to gauge his reaction. “I forgot you’re too edgy to use tiktok,” You murmured. When you opened it on your phone, he would sometimes stand behind you and glare at the screen over your shoulder, but that was all the exposure he’d had to the app. 

Judd frowned. “Why don’t you pull over and I’ll show you who the real fucking princess is.” It was half a threat, but none that you took too seriously. 

“Oh, yeah? You’d have to pay extra for that, Uber drivers don’t normally fuck their costumers.” You answered coyly, but he didn’t find your quip nearly as funny as you did. You turned back to the road, making sure you weren’t about to run into any middle schoolers as you neared Bridgeton Middle School. Judd didn’t say anything– but you felt his large hand slither up your leg, enclosing around your thigh and squeezing the fat there softly. 

He looked out the window to his side, refusing to grant you attention while he continued to massage your thigh; and glaring as you pulled into the parking lot. Judd had convinced you to skip school that day, so you could drive him to his stupid deal and you could smoke and get McDonald’s after. The first part of his plan went without a hitch, until you got incredibly high-horny and you ended up fucking in the bathroom at McDonald’s as well. Unfortunately, you had to leave sooner than intended; in a daze and desperate to sober up before you went and picked Jessi up from school. Coincidentally Nick as well, since, you know, Judd's parents took his car. 

You parked and turned to Judd, crawling half over to his seat and forcing him to look at you. His glare lessened as he stared at your grinning face so close to his; leaning in. You kissed him softly once, then twice, then three times, giggling and pulling away whenever he chased you. He growled and the hand on your thigh went to your waist, he pulled you in and was just about to kiss you properly, forcefully and roughly when a series of knocks came to your window. 

It was Jessi and Nick. You averted your head and let Judd kiss your cheek instead, gently pushing him back as you sat back down in your seat. You motioned for the two to come in.

Jessi opened the door, and allowed Nick to crawl inside first. “It smells like weed and junkfood in here.” She commented, a slight question in her statement as she crawled in, too, and closed the door behind her. 

You turned your body halfway in your seat, coming to face her. “Sure.” You ignored her comment. “Had a good day at school?” 

Both her and Nick nodded reluctantly. “Yeah. Can you help me with some maths-stuff later?” She asked and you wrinkled your nose; Maths was not something you were particularly good at, but you nodded and agreed to help her anyways.

Judd’s hand returned to your thigh and you glanced at him– he was staring blankly at the kids, but he met your eyes with raised eyebrows, indicating he wanted something from you. You hummed. “Hey, Jessi, how about hanging out at Nick’s house for a while?” You looked to Nick, who flushed slightly and nodded in agreement. 

Jessi’s mouth tightened as she looked at Nick, and then you. She new that when you asked her that, you really meant; “Hey, Jessi, it would be more convenient for me to drive straight to Judd’s house so we can fuck.”

“C’mon Jessi, we can watch a movie or something,” Nick added hopefully. You smiled, a bit tightly as you looked at Jessi and she reluctantly uncrossed her arms and agreed. “Okay, fine. But can we do that stupid biology assignment together then, instead?” 

Nick agreed happily, and the two quickly got a rather animated conversation started. You drove out of the parking lot, Judd’s hand increasing in height on your thigh till he was toying with the hem of your skirt. You flushed, gently pushing his hand down a couple times so Jessi and Nick wouldn’t see, but it ultimately was a losing battle. 

The two’s conversation turned to background noise as you drove towards your destination, as fast as you could; now way faster than the speed limit allowed. Judd’s incessant caress of your thigh made your heart beat so much faster and your finger’s grip the steering wheel so much tighter— you could feel him staring hungrily at you the whole time too, seizing you up with that small twitch of his lips that meant he was going to fuck you till your legs were jelly. 

‘Step on that goddamn speeder, sugar! Look how he’s eyeing you.. like a big, hungry wolf,’ Connie’s claws locked around the back of your seat, and she moaned when his nails slightly scratched at your fishnets; lifting them and making them slap against your thigh. 

You gasped, and sent him a glare that bordered on a sultry pout. “I can’t,” you muttered to Connie. “I’ll actually run someone over if I go any faster,” 

Your monstress shook the seat harder. ‘They won’t mind giving up their life for some sweet, sweet lovemaking baby~’  She purred and you glanced at her briefly, with a scandalised expression. 

“I really don’t think you should be saying stuff like that,” You retorted, focused on evening out your breathing from the slow teasing of Judd’s warm hand. Then he leaned in, squeezing your thigh in a death grip and placed a long, slow kiss under your jaw 

“You changed your mind about fucking your Uber costumer yet?” He drawled, deep voice dragging a whispering growl all the way up your spine.

You shivered. “I think I have,” you breathed back and felt him smile triumphantly against your neck. 

He cackled darkly. “Good. You better drop the fucking attitude,” Then, he snapped your fishnets again, watching as thin, red lines appeared on your thigh.

Connie moaned loudly again, fanning her hands in front of her face before dramatically laying down on the floor of the car, between the front and back seats. 

“Ew. Can you two not?” That time it was Nick speaking, arms crossed over his chest.

Jessi nodded in agreement; her gaze was locked on where Judd was touching your thigh, burning into you. Your boyfriend in question slowly retreated his hand, half turning in his seat to glare dissatisfied at your two passengers. 

Nick shifted uncomfortably and whatever insult he had died on his tongue. “What? Are you fucking jealous or something?” He sneered.

The younger shrugged and looked away. “No.” 

Judd grunted, gravely and deeply. “It’s not my fault you can’t get your little prick wet,” He wiggled his pinky finger for emphasis. 

You failed to hold back a giggle and gently slapped his arm. “Don’t tell thirteen-year-olds to have sex, you ass,” You scolded, halfheartedly through and smiled as you came to a stop in front of the birch house. 

“Okay, get out you two!” You called over your shoulder. “We’ll be right in— I’m just gonna park.” You bluffed, and didn’t miss the way Jessi rolled her eyes at you as she slammed the car door behind her.

Connie rose from the floor to sit in the middle seat in the back. ‘Yeah, park Judd’s dick right in your pussy!’ She drawled, making obscene gestures with her hands. 

Judd was quick to point you to a nearby parking spot, concealed a bit by a willow tree with low-hanging branches. As soon as you were parked, you unbuckled your seatbelt and Judd was reaching for you.

He pulled you to him by your waist— settling you down over his lap, straddling him. You whimpered as you felt him against you, already straining in his pants. He grabbed greedy handfuls of your ass with one hand, having the other settle on the back of your neck and pulling your hair. He held your head in an iron grip, making sure you wouldn’t avoid his kiss this time around.

Then, he kissed you. Roughly, deeply, tongue invading your mouth almost instantly. You mewled as he bit your lower lip, arms wrapped around his neck and fingers gently pulling on the short hairs at the back of his head. 

You were already moving your hips, without thinking about it and he wasted no time in aiding you; thrusting upwards while holding your hips down and helping you rock back and forth. 

You were already quite sensitive from your earlier rough fuck in the McDonald’s bathroom, your clit swelled and started twitching almost instantly. The rough drag of denim on your panties was almost too much, but the sloshing of warmth in your lower belly kept you going— rutting yourself harder against him. 

He moved from your lips, you let out a soft, whiny sigh. “You wanted it that bad, huh? You’re already so fuck-drunk,” He commented, that wicked smile pulling at his lips. He squeezed your asscheek hard. “Up.” He instructed, and shakily, you lifted yourself up to stand on your knees instead of sitting on him. 

You held his shoulders for support, definitely not expecting him to bring both his hands under your skirt and roughly ripping your fishnets apart right under your pussy. He let them rip all the way down your thighs and you looked at him wide-eyed. 

“I’ll get you new ones, baby.” He grinned, a bit coyly as he pushed your panties aside. His cold fingers gently brushed your folds and you couldn’t find it in yourself to care about your ruined tights. Your breathing hitched and you desperately bucked your hips, trying to get him to touch you further. 

His other hand returned to your hip, to hold it in place and keep you from rutting yourself against his fingers. He gave a warning growl, brows drawing together as he concentrated on the task at hand. He teased your folds apart with his pointer, feeling how warm and wet you already were. You were pulsing, almost, starting to clench before his fingers even entered. 

“Judd—“ You moaned. “Do— do something.” You pleaded with him. 

Connie was going crazy behind you as well, both her and Maury were sitting in the backseat contributing to an animated conversation. Your monstress shook Maury by the shoulders, yelling at him to get Judd to do anything. 

‘C’mon! Fist her already!’ Maury roared, kicking the seat you and Judd were sitting on. 

Your boyfriend inhaled sharply, pressing his thumb to your swollen bud— forcing a breathy, drawn out whine out of you. He retaliated by pressing down harder, slowly moving his thumb in a circle that had you desperately bucking into his hand. 

He could feel your warmth leaking, wetness gathering and threatening to fall before he finally, finally gave in and shoved a finger into you. He looked at you, drinking in your expression as he burrowed one, long finger into your cunt.

Connie cheered and you cried out Judd’s name. He made a ‘come hither’ motion, slightly scratching deep within your walls right where you needed him. He chuckled, darkly as you clenched around his finger. 

“Want one more?” He asked— pressing down on your clit deliberately right as you were about to answer. 

You nodded your head, burying your face in his shoulder. “Mhm! Judd— please!” You wiggled your hips in emphasis. 

“Good girl.” He praised you, adding a second finger as promised. He pumped them for a little while, relishing in the moans you tried to conceal in his neck and grunting at the occasional bites you left. 

Then, he suddenly stopped moving, but not withdrawing his fingers. You whined pathetically in protest. “Relax, slut.” He said. “Fuck yourself on my fingers,” 

You didn’t need to be told twice, immediately you were bouncing up and down on his hand; trying to bring them as far into your pussy as possible. You clawed at Judd’s shirt, pulling the neckline down so you could properly bite him and conceal most of your whiny moans. 

He groaned, ripping his head back and allowing you more access to ravage his neck. You could feel yourself dripping, warm liquid gathering in Judd’s palm and running down his forearm. He pressed your clit harder, feeling your cunt clench tightly around his fingers— his cock ached at the thought of feeling your little pussy around him again. 

The car filled with loud squelching sounds, every time you rose and fell back on his fingers. Your pace fastened in time with Judd’s assault on your clit and you cried out; “Please—please, more! Judd, please!” 

“Yeah?” He drawled and you lifted your head from his neck slightly to nod your head. Then, he curled his fingers and touched a spot that had you seeing stars. You cried out, loudly, as his fingers began thrusting into you violently. Along with your combined forces, you moving your hips frantically and him rolling your clit with his thumb and scissoring his long fingers inside your pussy, you reached the edge quickly.

Judd sneered. “You gonna cum?” He knew the answer already, could feel it in the way your little pussy throbbed and clenched around his fingers. 

Your thighs burned from your rapid movement, shaking as liquid flames consumed your belly. “S’good, s’good— yes,” you breathed, clawing at Judd’s chest. 

He bend his fingers inside you again, breathing into your ear in his nice, deep voice. “Come on my fingers, pretty girl. C’mon.” 

Again, you definitely did not need to be told twice. The coil in your tummy snapped, and you fell apart with a loud cry of your boyfriends name. He continued finger fucking you through your orgasm, until you were even puffier and so sensitive that you were shying away from his hands. 

He grinned gleefully. “Good fucking girl,” he praised you, rubbing your clit in slow circles again, before finally pulling out and allowing you to rest on his knees. 

You sat, feeling your own wetness drip underneath you as you tried to catch your breath— Judd however, wasted no time, unbuckling his pants and pulling his fat cock out. 

You swallowed at the sight, how fucking hard he was and your pussy clenched again— as if it wasn’t already sore and abused. Subconsciously, you rutted your hips a bit forward, grinding on his knee as you watched him stroke himself. He hissed, hand tightly fisting the base of his cock and making its way to his leaking head; you timed your movements with his stroking. 

“C’mere.” He grunted, hands leaving his swollen cock in favour of grabbing your hips and pulling you towards him. 

On instinct, you reached forwards and grabbed his dick, standing on your knees again so you could sink down on him. You only managed to get the head in, before one of his large hands wrapped around your wrists; stopping you. 

“You take what I give you, slut. Pull shit like that again and I’ll have you on your knees instead, got it?” He growled, his other hand restraining your hip in a death grip that was sure to leave marks on your after— long, purple finger prints.

Though the thought of sucking him off wasn’t terrible, your pussy ached so pathetically and you knew the only thing that would satisfy you was Judd’s cock rearranging your guts. So you whined, but nodded and let him guide you back. 

He leaned the seat back a little, Maury yelped and moved away from his place behind you to make space as Judd leaned back. He lifted his hips up, emphasising what he wanted from you. 

You reached out a shaky hand, closing it around his base and moving up and down just like he had before. He groaned, teeth clenching as you smeared his pre-cum from top to bottom, massaging him to the best of your ability. Still, you couldn’t ignore the harsh clenching of your hole as he kept you empty. You slowly started grinding against his thigh again, hoping he’d let you. 

“Judd..” You sniffled, eyes close to filling with tears. “I need your cock inside me, please.” 

You could almost feel Judd’s dick hardened in your grip, and he growled and sat up a little straighter. “Jeez. You whine like a bitch in heat,” He commented, rather smugly.

He beckoned you with his fingers again, and you raised yourself right over his cock but waited to sit down. Judd hummed in approval, guiding his cock with one hand and you with the other, till the head was making its way inside you. 

You sighed, relieved, trying to relax your throbbing pussy so Judd could fit. He groaned. “You’re so.. fucking tight, relax.” He said, as he forced his way further inside you.

When he finally bottomed out, you moaned, loudly. He didn’t move right away, so again you took matters into your own hands and started softly rocking your hips. 

He grabbed your hand, placing it over your belly to feel the bulge his cock had created inside you. “Feel that, baby? You’re so full, aren’t you?” 

You barely registered the question, burying your face in his neck again to hide the way your whole expression screwed up in pleasure. “Mhm.. s’big, s’full.” You slurred.

Then, Judd started moving, bouncing you in his lap like a cocksleeve while you wailed into his shoulder. The stretch was almost unbearable, you felt him bruising your cervix each time he moved— the fit was so snug you could feel every ridge and vain on him. 

He lost himself in the feeling of your warm, soft pussy, having tuned Maury out a long time ago he fucked you mercilessly, entirely focused on reaching his own end. He lifted his hips off the seat to pound into you from below— you could feel him in your belly, your clit scraping over his lower stomach every time he moved. 

It was too much— you were already close to reaching your end, clenching so tightly around Judd that he cursed and could barely move. 

“Feel good, you little slut?” He grunted, blunt nails digging into your sides. 

You nodded desperately. “Good.” He said. “Then cum for me again, you’re so close, right? I can feel your little pussy clenching around my dick so tightly, god, you’re such a fucking whore.” 

You kinda wanted to say something back, but with his rough thrusts and the way your eyes rolled to the back of your head and crossed; you couldn’t really deny him. 

The air in the car felt electric as you came for a second time, bursting and feeling a flush of warm liquid spill from you and cover Judd’s cock. He groaned as you creamed, warm little hole sucking him in and fighting to keep him there. His breathing went erratic, and he bounced you harder, faster, to chase his own orgasm.

“Fuck! Shit, you’re so tight,” He growled through clenched teeth, fucking you so hard the car shook and he was sure to leave bruises. Your legs had gone numb by the time he took your hand again, placing it back on your belly right in time with his release.

His cock throbbed and he came. Hard. Thick ropes of warm cum filled you, stuffing you so full you could feel your belly swell even further under yours and Judd’s combined hands.

He leaned in and bit down on your neck, keeping his own noises as quiet as possible but making sure to leave your neck swollen and blue. You moaned softly as he bit you, not having the energy to shy away from the borderline painful overstimulation. 

When he came down, you collapsed into his chest— breathing heavily. You sat like that for a while, the car’s windows had been fogged up and the only thing you could hear were your combined breathing. 

‘Atta girl!’ Connie slithered around you, patting you on the head. You just mumbled incoherently in response, still too sex drunk to function. 

Maury did the same, ruffling Judd’s hair as he leaned his head back against the seat and praising him— all of which Judd ignored. 

“You’ll have to carry me back.” You muttered, after a long while.

Judd chuckled hoarsely, moving you a bit to pull out of you and tug himself back in his jeans. “Fuck no.” 

You slapped his chest, gently, and pulled yourself up to look at him directly. “I can’t feel my legs.” 

“Then I did a good fucking job.” He snarked, leaning in and kissing your temple. 

Well. It wasn’t like the two of you needed to be somewhere, relaxing in your car for a bit actually did seem like a pretty good option— and so that’s what you did.

God,, why am I horny for a fucking cartoon character wth 💀✋

Tags: @dlfvrr , @bxbyyyjocelyn (lemme know if you want to be tagged!)

[the-hopeless-haze]

Worried About You

Chapter 4 of If You Want It, You Can Bleed On Me (House x reader)

“I need Vicodin,” Greg says to you, walking into your office. Well. Your office when you were here. You scowl slightly at the day-old coffee in your line of vision and think about how you’ll be scolded by the other people you share the office with the rest of the week when you inevitably forget that it’s there.

“Funny. I’m not your dealer,” you say.

You and Greg had hit it off, so to speak. Much to everyone’s chagrin and surprise, you continued seeing each other inside and outside the hospital. It wasn’t something either of you spoke about. Psychiatrists (or psychiatric doctors of nursing) are the worst patients and the best repressors. You did what you had to to be able to function like a member of society, but you were as fucked up as the rest of them. And you see Greg is similar. USA-renowned, if not world-renowned, diagnostician—but that was all he had besides a bum leg and a healthy dose of chronic depression and reliance on opiates to function.

When you finally had sex -heterosexual sex, dick in pussy sex - it was a frenzy fueled by alcohol and weeks long of teasing, and you saw glimpses of his leg in the midst of it and he saw the scars scattering your arms, but beyond the “oh, so you tried to kill yourself” he said to you when he edged you on the brink of orgasm the umpteenth time (and oh, boy, was that a mood killer) there were no comments about either.

But he kept you around and you weren’t entirely certain of why. It’s only been a month or so, and he’s not calling you his girlfriend or telling you he loves you, but he’ll still wine and dine you before railing you. And you don’t know if it’s out of obligation, if he feels like even though you’re not a hooker he has to pay you for sex, or if he genuinely enjoys your company. You think about how dissimilar you are to Wilson and how that’s the only person he keeps close. You wonder if maybe you remind him of his live-in ex that you’re almost certain he never got over. It’s a good time though, regardless. You make each other laugh. You both love The Rolling Stones. You begrudgingly agreed to be dragged to a monster truck show one night (“Wilson won’t come with me” he whined) and in return you made him go with you to see a local band perform that he wasn’t the slightest bit interested in.

It was that sacrificing that made you pretty close to a real couple. Wilson pointed it out to you and he no doubt pointed it out to Greg. You made a snarky comment about his marriage and you wonder if you should compare notes with Greg to make sure you’re both not using the same lines.

You don’t know why you keep him around either, so it’s fair. It’s nice to have a fuck buddy, you suppose, and it’s also nice to almost like them as a human being rather than a sex toy. It’s certainly not because you think you can cure him, because you know you can’t. You wanted sex and you didn’t want a rehash. All things considered, he was a thorough lover and cared about getting you off as much as himself, which somewhat surprised you given how selfish he can be in other settings.

It’s not a bad arrangement. At least not right now.

But you’re fucked and you know it. It’s why you were drawn to work with kids in the first place. At least you’d always have a leg up on them. Someone out there thought you were sane enough to be rent an apartment and be a licensed prescriber.

Oh. Speaking of.

“Come on. You have a license to prescribe. Just once,” he begs.

“Yeah. No. I think you’ve got me confused with Wilson.”

“You’re much hotter,” he offers.

“Flattery will get you nowhere.”

“It got you in my bed.”

You smirk, shaking your head. “Yeah. Fair. But that’s as far as it’ll get you. You can be lackadaisical with your license, but I’d like to keep mine until I want to retire.”

“How’d I get with such a goody-two-shoes? Even Wilson will play.”

“He’s not now, apparently. What gives?”

“I bet Cuddy clinic hours that I wouldn’t take Vicodin for a week. They’re all convinced I’m an addict.”

You snort. “Okay. I hate to point it out so bluntly, but this is prime behavior for addiction. Searching all channels to get a fix because you can’t go a week without it?”

He rolls his eyes. “Yeah. Okay. I’m going to do the week. But I need someone on standby. I’m only doing the week, and I don’t know that I’ll be able to get it prescribed afterward.”

“Chronic pain is outside my scope of practice. Best I could do is a suboxone MAT and say I’m detoxing you off Vicodin and keeping your substance use in check, but even that’s pushing it. There’s a conflict of interest.”

“You can’t keep the clinical and the personal separate?”

“Nope. Could you? If I was your patient this week, would you be able to? Bringing your ex-girlfriend into this is what got you into this mess. Don’t bring me in to try to fix it.”

“I’m not asking you to fix it. And you have a medical background. I’m asking you to write the order I’m asking for. I know how to manage my pain.”

“Why don’t you get through this week first? Then maybe you’ll take me up on the suboxone,” you say, crossing your arms.

“You think I’m addicted?”

“Jesus Christ, Greg, you’re smarter than this. You know what happens if you consistently take opiates. I know you need them for pain. I’m not denying that. But to think you’re immune to the side effects? It’s habit-forming. You know this. You’ve been taking it for years. You’re going to have withdrawal symptoms. You should be doing this in a detox facility if anything.”

“I work in a hospital. Opiate withdrawal never killed anyone, anyway,” he says, seeing no point in bluffing to you any longer.

“Maybe not. But you’ll suffer. I’ll meet you halfway, hm?” You say, looking up at him. “I’ll prescribe you comfort meds for the week. Ease you through it. Mirapex, vistaril, zofran, clonidine, bentyl…”

“Most of those aren’t exactly in your scope. If you want to be technical.”

“If I lose my license for any of those the board has far too much time on their hands. But you’re right. I’ll get Chase to sign them off.”

“Chase?”

“He’s the most desperate to get laid out of the three. I bat my eyelashes enough he won’t even question who the scripts are for.”

“Chase? Look at him. If he’s not getting laid none of us should be.”

You scoff. “I guess pretty boys do it for you, but not for me. But no…I can tell. He reeks of desperation.”

“It’s desperation to be liked by authority. Not desperation for pussy. He’s swimming in it.”

“Okay. We’ll see if he folds,” you say, winking.

Greg sighs. “Is this some kind of game?”

“What isn’t, with you? It’s all games, it’s all puzzles.”

“Why Chase?”

“I told you. I know you’d rather me go to Cameron, but unfortunately, I don’t think flirting would get very far with her. Foreman will never fold.”

“You don’t have other doctors you work with you could ask?”

“Greg, it’s just fucking comfort medications that you probably will have too much pride to even touch. Again. Not risking my career for you and letting people that actually respect me think I’m a nutcase because I slept with you.”

“So… you want to fuck Chase. Right?”

“Where in that insecure little man brain did you think of that? It’s your other head, right? I must want the sexy Australian because all the other girls are doing him? Because I want to ask him to prescribe meds? For you?”

He shrugs. “Matter of time. ‘Oh, I had to blow him, that’s the only way I could get him to do this’ or ‘oh, honey, good news, he said if I sleep with him three times a week he’ll prescribe your Vicodin’.”

“Stop with the immature bullshit. If I wanted to fuck him, I’d just leave you, not worry about the meds, and do it. Grow up, Greg,” you mutter, walking away.

“Then why don’t you?” he challenges, hating himself as the words leave his mouth, hating how unattractively juvenile he was coming across. But there were reasons, the need to push you away to see if he would get pulled back, the need to be contrary, the need to know. Know what, exactly, he’s not sure.

He already knows he’s in for one of the worst weeks of his life. Even if the withdrawal symptoms are mild, he’s going to be in terrible, unmanageable pain, and all the Tylenol and Motrin in the world aren’t going to even come close to touching it. And he’s going to be more miserable than usual. No pain relief. No euphoria from the high when he takes just one… or two… or three extra than he needs. He knows he’s addicted. He tries to roll it off his back, saying it doesn’t matter, it shouldn’t change perceptions of him, it’s something he needs for pain, and it doesn’t affect his ability to practice medicine.

But sometimes he’s afraid. When James looks at him in concern but doesn’t offer any solutions because there aren’t any real ones, are there? He needs opiates for pain. Nothing else will work. Whether it’s pure heroin or your gold-standard synthetic hippy bullshit medication-assisted treatment… it’s still an opiate. Naloxone embedded in the pill or not. Having to go to a clinic to get dosed and having to have checks and balances on his use or not. It’s still an opiate. There’s still a stigma. It still pinpoints his pupils, lowers his respiratory rate, and hopefully, hopefully, takes the edge off so he can function but he knows. Addiction isn’t his specialty, he never wanted it to be, but he knows. One day it’ll be his last Vicodin, or the Vicodin won’t work anymore, and hey, you know what’s instantaneous? Spinal morphine. Can only use that card once or twice, have to tell Wilson he’s in excruciating pain and guilt him into enabling. He’ll only go so far. And then…well, then it’s IV heroin or fentanyl, whichever is easier to get, whichever is cheaper.

Greg knows that addiction treatment centers are revolving doors. He knows that you saw the same people back and forth and back and forth sign in and sign out, sign in and sign out. Change their medication plans a million times. And some of them still died anyway.

He’s afraid. He’s afraid of dying by his own hand by accident, alone and blue, nodding off forever. Sometimes he wishes for it, an end to the pain, but he also doesn’t want people to find him like that. A predictable end to a predictable story. World-renowned diagnostician died the same way a poor broke junkie did on the streets. Hooked on drugs, overshot it.

And it’s not that he thinks he’s better than those people. He knows he is those people. Even prior to his disability he dabbled in drugs, never enough to create a habit but enough to definitely indicate the potential of a problem. He’d tried almost every illicit substance “just to see how it felt” by your age. It feels good. Drugs feel good. It’s how they work. And your brain wants to feel good. It’s how they keep working and you keep using.

He knows. He’s in a vicious cycle he’ll never claw his way out of.

And you know it, too.

And yet you’re wasting your time fighting with him instead of walking away.

Why?

He doesn’t know that.

“Yeah. Why don’t I fuck him?” you snark back, turning on your heel and walking back toward him, drawing him out of his pity party and back into the misery he created for no reason other than to drag you down with him, make you choke on it with him. “I don’t want to. That’s why. I want to fuck you, although believe me, that thought is getting less and less appealing every time you open that fucking mouth and speak.”

“It does have better uses,” he quips, shrugging, almost visibly relaxing at hearing he was chosen, that he hadn’t scared you off yet.

You roll your eyes. “When does the detox start?”

“Now. It’s been a couple of hours.”

“So you wanted to kick it off and try to put both of us in a shitty mood to start with? Not your brightest idea, huh?” you ask.

He doesn’t say anything and you nod, feeling slightly more in control now that you rendered him silent without any arguments. “Go home. You can’t think clearly if you’re going to be actively detoxing.”

“I still have to make them think I can function without it,” he says after pausing. He would’ve lied to you too, put up a façade with you too, but that’s the thing about addiction. It’s easy to hide dependence to people who don’t know what to look for, but you do. And you would smell it on him.

“I thought you didn’t care what people think?”

“I don’t.”

“Then why take the bet at all?”

“I’ll get out of clinic hours.”

“Right. You would never do something like this to prove a point,” you say sarcastically, leading him out of the office. —————- “Why are you with him?” Chase asks. “And you care enough about him to ask me to use my medical license for a script.”

“You’ll see I don’t care enough about him to risk using mine,” you counter. “It’s comfort meds. Just write the scripts and I’ll leave you alone and we can go back to never talking, which is honestly how I prefer it.”

“I’ve done nothing to you.”

“Right,” you mutter. “I’ve heard enough, though.”

“Does he… what does he say about me?” he asks, a look between bewildered and terrified crossing his face.

You laugh, shaking your head. “Forget I said anything. You’re fine, I’m sure, I just don’t want to be entangled in the team. I already work with Wilson. One facet of House’s life needs to be separate from me.”

“Right. So you’re asking me to prescribe him medications.”

“As a doctor. Which is your job,” you point out. You sigh, looking at the pretty blond man sitting in front of you. Maybe Greg was right to be afraid. Most women your age would be begging to spread their legs at the thought of carrying this man's children. He's more stable, at least comes off that way, and he doesn't have an addiction and a crippled leg.

“Why stay with him if you know he’s an addict?”

Why are you staying?

You look at him for a second, reading his face. “You hate people that struggle with addiction, don’t you?”

“I wouldn’t say I hate them. I just think they don’t realize the pain they cause and it’s unfair to the sober people in their life.”

“Everyone is someone’s burden,” you say.

But why did you take him on?

“So you think he’s going to detox.”

“I know he’s going to detox. Which is why. Once again. I’m asking you to prescribe him comfort medication for the aforementioned detox.”

“You guys really like each other, huh?”

Why did he take you on?

“No. I want my week to not be miserable. This might lessen it a little bit.”

“Oh, and you’re deflecting just like he would.”

“Just prescribe me the damn meds, Chase.”

“You’re going to be miserable anyway,” he says, shrugging as he takes out his script pad. “You owe me one.”

You know he's not wrong.

“Yeah. You’ll get a psych consult on the house,” you agree.

“Why’d you ask me?”

You sigh. “Can’t ask Wilson. Too close. So it had to be one of you three. Foreman just wouldn’t. Cameron would ask me too many questions and she’d tell everybody.”

“And me?”

“Process of elimination, really. Thank you, you know," you say, deciding to leave out the part where he gets off on sucking metaphorical dick for the chance at appealing to authority. Sometimes you wish you were as crass as House. You come up with some good ones if you could only find the guts to just say them.

“He’s not going to take them.”

“Probably not. But I’m doing my part.”

“As what? His girlfriend?”

“His… friend,” you clarify, and you walk out of the office with the scripts in tow to fill at the pharmacy. Later you hand them to him and he takes them without a word. He opens all the bottles, takes one of each pill in his hand and he pops them dry. Terrible for his esophagus, you tell him, and he mutters something about how he’s wrecked his liver and everything else has to catch up. He opens a bottle of wine and you lean against his chest, barely processing the cheap soap opera flashing in front of you on the TV. He's already sweating, you can feel his shirt damp against your cheek. You don’t know why you’re here. You don’t know why he made a show of taking all those pills in front of you. Maybe to show your efforts were appreciated without having to say the words, even if he thought it was stupid. Maybe it was a desperate attempt to make this all suck less. Maybe it was because this was bending the rules a little, a detox with help, however minor, and he always wanted to see how far he could push before the consequences could roll in. Let’s cheat a little. Instead of a slice of pizza on a diet let’s have a hydroxyzine in a cold turkey detox.

He asked you to come over tonight but he hasn’t said much of anything or initiated much either. Why does he want you here? To know he’s not alone this time, that you’re willing to face the brunt of this pain with him when it returns, like Stacy was unwilling to?

You don’t know.

You don’t want to know. It’s best he keeps that information in his own head where it belongs. You don’t want to get too attached, too close, too entangled. This is fine how it is.

But you still wake up drenched in sweat that isn’t yours.

[danikamariewrites]

can i please request a rhysand x reader where reader is extremly blunt, like they’re at a high lord meeting and beron keeps chatting shit and she just says something like ”oh my gods does he ever shut up? ” or �� no one here wants to hear you speak anymore ” and rhys just loves it even tho he has a stone face. Or when she’s in the mood and they’re at dinner w the inner circle she says ”do you wanna fuck?” or ”i’m horny let’s go home” and everyone stares at her with amusement bc she’s so real🤞 and one time she might be getting hit on and the guy just doesn’t quit so she lists all the things wrong with him, not to be rude but bc she honestly thinks that. PLEASE🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️🖤

Rhys x reader who does not give two fucks hc

A/n: I wish I could be this blunt 😂 If I were this honest every problematic person in my life would be gone

Rhys loved that you were an honest person

You aren’t afraid to speak your mind and he found it quite amusing since he couldn’t really say what he wanted

The inner circle finds it funny

You even rival Amren for bluntness

You two butt heads sometimes but it makes for fun entertainment

Something everyone feels bad about is telling Cassian no but you have no issue shutting down his dumbass ideas

“No Cass. That’s a shit idea babe.” “What?! Why?” “Cassian I could list a million reasons but you wouldn’t listen to a Single one.”

You and Azriel got a long very well

He’d even ask you to come to a few interrogations bc your bullshit detector is amazing

You can always tell when someone is lying

If you guys are out at Rita’s you’d be staring at Rhys watching him dance which is very hot

Back at the table while you all wait for more drinks you’re just staring at him, your feet in his lap as you stroke his jaw you just blurt out, “Im done here. Can we go home and fuck?”

Cassian and Mor would be shocked and then have that face like ‘yeah she’d say that’

Rhys was pulling you from the booth winnowing you home immediately

High Lords meetings are whole other ordeal

You can’t hide when you don’t like someone on your face

And there are A LOT of people you don’t like

The main two you hate are Tamlin, for what he did to Feyre and her sisters, and Beron bc he’s an abuser and a moron

Beron is complaining about the human lands again and how we’re too connected now

No one would cut him off for the safety of everyone else

You’d be lightly hitting your head on the back of your chair, your face pulled in an annoyed look

“Oh my gods!” Everyone turns to you and Rhys just gives you an amused look

“Excuse me?” Beron says like he can’t believe someone would cut him off “you’re excused if you’re going to keep complaining. No one can stand your shit. It’s all mindless crap with you. Wah-wan-wah not everything can go your way Beron!”

You settled back in your chair

Your court was trying not to laugh, Rhys had a straight face, and Eris was trying not to smile

Helion made eye contact with you and he looked like a kid in a candy shop

“Well…” Thesan said carefully, “I think we’re done for the day.”

Rhys winnowed you home and you all had a good laugh about Beron that night

[axl-rose-lover-1987]

“Don’t Be Nervous”

Axl Rose 90s x Reader

(Use these pics for reference)

You got in your car and begin driving to the studio where the photoshoot was being held. You had no prior modeling experience you did this on a dare. You were a huge GNR fan and when you saw an ad for a girl needed to do a photoshoot with Axl Rose you got excited and you’re friend dared you to do it so what you had never modeled before it couldn’t hurt to send in a head shot or two. You had no way expected to actually get a call back but last Monday sure enough an executive with the magazine company had called you and said you, YOU had been selected to do the photo shoot with the AXL ROSE you couldn’t believe it. You were so shocked. They thought you and Axls looks would pair well together and that was probably the biggest compliment of your life. Now here you were shaking with excitement as you drove to the studio.

You were greeted by a make up artist and hair stylist they told you Axl was very excited to meet you. You blushed you had sorta a crush on him I mean to be honest every girl did. They told you you would be wearing a tight short black dress and as soon as you put it on you had never looked so good. The dress hugged your body perfectly your make up and had never looked that good and your hair was loosely curled and seemed to fall perfectly. You had never looked at yourself and felt this beautiful. The photographer and designer explained to you that Axl had been wanting to do a shoot with a girl for The Rolling Stones magazine and since he didn’t have a girlfriend right now they needed to pick one and Axl and him both thought you were the perfect choice. He said he wanted lots of shots of you and Axl up close touching, flirting, and to be sexy. This made you extremely nervous what if you looked terrible and messed up the shoot. You were so nervous waiting for Axl to come.

Finally there he came he walked out to the set he was perfect in every way he his hair was perfect his beautiful eyes lit up when he saw you he was wearing jeans and a leather vest without a shirt which exposed his perfectly chiseled abs. He looked like a fucking Greek god. “You must be y/n?” He asked extending his hand out for you to shake. Goddamn his voice was deep you thought. “Hi- y-yeah I’m y/n” you said trying to hide how nervous you were. “I’m sure you know who i am right?” Axl asked jokingly. “Yeah your Vince Neil right?” You said trying to be funny. Axl laughed and rolled his eyes “Alright alright good one” he said. Your face was bright red it made you feel good you made him laugh. “Alright now that you guys talked a little bit we’re gonna pose you” the director said. An assistant came over and told you to stand facing Axl they then directed you to hold on to Axls waist and they told Axl to grab yours. You two were now extremely close and one of Axls hand had left your waist and found your ass. Your heart was beating out of your chest. You were just praying Axl couldn’t sense how nervous you were. You looked down at your feet seeing how they hadn’t started taking pictures yet. “Is my hand ok?” Axl asked you. You looked up at him damn his eyes were beautiful “Y-yes” you said trying to hide your anxiousness. “Don‘t be worried sweetheart you look gorgeous” Axl whispered in your ear. You turned toward the camera grinning. The photographer began snapping photos. “Do you think you guys could kiss a little for us?” The director asked. “Sure” you both said. Axl lips found your neck a look of pleasure spread across your face you were completely oblivious to the fact the photographer was snapping photos. Axls lips eventually trailed up and found your lips. You kissed him back passionately shoving your tongue into his mouth before he could put his in yours. Axl pulled away looking at you in awe “And I thought you were nervous sugar” Axl said smirking at you. Axl then crashed his lips on to yours and your tongues fought in each other’s mouths one of Axls hands remained on your ass while the other was tangled in your hair. “Ok cut cut” the director shouted. You and Axl who had been lost in your kissing pulled apart and looked at him “that was great guys like very um well passionate for people who just met” he said. You and Axl laughed. “But now I want “y/n put one of your legs on Axls waist and Axl you support her and then look at the camera for us” he said. Axl helped you wrap your leg on his waist and he grabbed your butt for support you laid one hand on his bare chest and the other on the back of his head. “Alright guys give me sexy” the photographer said. Your and Axls faces lit up with each flash of the camera. Axl kept looking at you with hungry eyes which made you want him very badly you two were definitely nailing this photoshoot.

The director had now had Axl remove his vest and he was now completely shirtless. “Ok Axl push y/n against the wall for us.” The director said. Axl grabbed your hands and lifted them above your head and pushed them against the wall your back hit the cool dry wall “Did I hurt you sweet heart?” Axl asked. “No” you said. You and Axl stood looking into each other’s eyes. Axl and you began making out for a few mins when he then abruptly broke away. He dropped your hands and pulled out a cigarette. “Axl what the hell?” You asked the photographer didn’t tell him to stop. Axl lit the cigarette and held it loosely up to his lips. He inhaled the smoke but then you removed the cigarette from his mouth placing it in your own. Axl looked at you shocked. “Fuck you” Axl said not really angry but just surprised by your actions. You winked and walked away. “Alright guys those pictures will definitely look amazing that little cigarette stunt was great guys” the director said. You continued to smoke the cigarette as you walked off set Axl rushed up to you. “I’m gonna need to take you at to drinks after this” Axl whispered to you and then took the cigarette from your mouth and then walking away from you.

[madeupoflowers]

Your next partner & the connection

(has an 18+ section)❤️‍🔥

❗️You’ve been warned🫡

This is my first 18+ reading so beware of any triggers and please if this isn’t your cup of tea then skip this reading. I know this isn’t for everyone. Most importantly take what resonates. Nothing is forced and set in stone. Free will is and will ALWAYS be in our hands. Remember that, love!

I hope you enjoy. Take care!🖤

Piles 1-2 are top row

Piles 3-4 are bottom row

🖤💋🖤💋🖤💋🖤💋🖤

Pile 1

The connection: I feel your next partnership will be a little traditional in terms of roles, there will be one person with dominant masucline energy and another with prominent feminine energy though apply based off of your preferences not entirely gender. This person wants to take charge and court you. They don’t appear emotional and seem strict and hardened. I see them being physically larger than you either in height, weight or musculature. I see someone standing over another person. Even if this is someone shorter, they have an aura of being so much larger(lol I heard “when ya girl 5’5 but got a personality that’s 6’5”). This person doesn’t fuck around, they want a real relationship so if you wanted a fling, maybe choose another pile since that is NOT the energy given at all here. The masculine wants to give you the world. Honestly, they may not care if you want to sit pretty I mean they love you either way. Buying anything you desire and cherishing you, such a hot energy. Warning though they are stubborn especially in traditional ways. So this could be someone who wants their partner to stay home while they provide and care which could for many be what causes some conflicts. Also, this person takes their sweet ass time lol. “What’s the rush?” They like to chill and do their thing, no drama here they hate that shit. It will take some time but once you get close their emotional and sweet side will really start to show. I’m gonna be real here, this person gives “Daddy” vibes if you know what I mean yes that can apply to a female its just the energy.

(rider waite: EMP, 4OW, WRLD, 9OP, KNOP, KOC)

Some steamy details(18+): Ooooh yeah they wanna be the dominant and “experienced” partner. They are passionate and may literally wanna get down and dirty in random places. Body worship mainly on the feminine’s part. Like’s you all dressed up and feeling your best. I see them wanting you or sneaking up on you randomly when y’all get back or getting ready to go to a nice event or restaurant. Male or female choosing this pile, this person likes their partner more feminine dressed, backless dresses, spaghetti straps and I see lots of flowers especially flower detail on shirt straps, lace and especially pantyhose/stockings. I am getting for some that this person lowkey likes innocence and making someone turn “freak” if you know where I’m getting at. Corruption type beat here. Not malicious though! Though, here is some tea, the masculine is all dominant and mighty in public yet I feel in private they lowkey want you to kick their ass in bed(IM TOTALLY FUCKING WITH Y’ALL). But seriously, don’t mind you being more crazy and fierce in bed and may be a deep desire of theirs. Remember in the first part of this reading I mentioned them taking time to reveal their vulnerable and sweet side? Well once they do and are safe to be “weaker” around you then they will reveal this submissive desire of theirs. This is funny cause it’s a proven fact that many people in power have secret desires to be dominated by those no one would expect.

(sex magic tarot: KNOC, SUN, 9OS, EMPRSS, 2OP, AOS)

(you got my favorite song and the singer is also the guy in the photo you chose!)

Pile 2

The connection: This person is fast moving and likes to GET SHIT DONE. At times their bossy and rushed nature will step on some toes especially yours. I do thing y’all may bicker especially playfully(so no worries!). I think this relationship will have many bickering arguments that will be made up as quickly as they started. There is a likely chance that the reason why this person is snappy at times and needs things done their way is due to internal issues and trauma even. Other’s might’ve not have truly stood up to this person or their words went on this person’s “deaf” ears. However, I feel that’s gonna change with you. You will be someone that this individual will genuinely feel that they can give some space on the throne for and brings the hope that you won’t leave and cave like everyone else. I know this isn’t a healthy coping or habit but I do feel this person is truly kind but has been forced to grow a hardened and controlling aura due to past pains and disappointments by those they should’ve been able to rely on. I heard “Fuck it I’ll be the person I rely on and rely on ONLY.” It’s sad but I’m glad this person will want you to grow a stable connection and build a foundation that you both can dictate together. Lol.

(rider waite: 8OW, CHRT, 5OW, AOC, 7OP, AOP)

Some steamy details(18+): He/she like’s playful flirting and teasing like the female on the card is grazing the male’s leg under the table. This person likes topping for sure and hugging. Like’s feeling like the strong and protective partner so will literally want to squeeze you when y’all hug or embrace(wink wink). Despite this person’s need for control, I think they will cave to you eventually and want you to snap them in shape. Warning for some of y’all so if this triggers you then don’t accept this specific message because free will is a thing okay? This person could like threesomes or foursomes. Like’s roleplaying. Gets off on the outside world not knowing what crazy stuff goes on behind closed doors. May not want you too revealing or talking about y’all’s bedroom life since they like the mystery. This sound’s so Scorpio esque like Scorpio venus and mars specifically. Like’s low cut tops but nothing else too revealing. I keep seeing a person in an emerald colored long sleeved, low cut top with a black headband which frames their long brown hair perfectly. Very specific message but I see someone here who fits the description, really turning on their partner with that look. Take what resonates. Sorry if I couldn’t get too many juicy details, I truly feel this person wants to conceal that energy which makes sense if they want their sexual life a mystery to outsiders, except you and them.

(sexual magic tarot: 2OW, 6OS, AOC, QOP, WHEEL, HP)

Pile 3

The connection: They are guarded especially energetically and I feel they have every right to be. This person was taken advantage of financially or had their kindness taken for weakness. Maybe they bought people nice things or lent money to help. Leaving them with nothing. Now they want to conceal themselves from being read energetically too since if say they have money or fame, you won’t know until they let you know. I feel anything grand or gifted about them will be hidden at least in the beginning. Anyways, this person will scope you out and once they see the potential of something good then they will take the risk towards you. I feel this person isn’t very extroverted or experimental or at first. Very cautious of new chances and may feel it’s too good to be true due to past disappointments so you may have to get them out of their shell a bit. Be aware he/she is prone to falling into stagnant energy and unhealthy habits or forms of escapism. They may kind of fall into codependent relationships and it’s possible you could be their “savior” in some way. Sorry if this since this isn’t exactly what many want to hear but remember a lot of this person’s energy is being hidden and protected so this is literally just the tip of the iceberg, I’m sure they have a good heart, simply are victims of a painful event or situation that did them horrible and dirty. They are still healing when you both start getting together.

(rider waite: HP, 9OW, POP, AOW, 4OC, DVL)

Some steamy details(18+): They lean a bit towards the submissive side in bed. Really enjoy seeing you confident and feeling happy, to them you shine. I see a lot of you feminine’s are more on the dominant side anyways. Foot fetishes or like’s to do it with heels/nice shoes on. Will want to buy you flowers or do little and charmingly cute things for you, the type to see a pretty plastic ring and want to give it to you just because they adore you. It’s wholesome and innocent in a way. Homebody’s here, may take some coaxing to do anything outside. May want to write you poems and perhaps sexy texting is their cup of tea. Type to make a surrounding comfy and homey before getting down. This is a message for a handful of you only, they may like c*ckholding or voyuerism ok. Or just watching adult movies with you. Emphasis on the chest area and I feel if this is a male, that he has facial hair and a roman/hawklike nose. Thick eyebrows.

(sexual magic tarot: QOW, 2OS, AOP, KNOC, 10OC, HRMT)

Pile 4

The connection: Right away this will be a “forbidden” connection. This person is in a high position or role that requires responsibility and forseeing others’ work. I feel they are older. When you or they try to get close, I feel someone really fucking annoying will notice and charge in to say some dumb shit which will unfortuanly cause you so much distress. This could be another higher up, main boss or annoying ass taddle tail, etc. Either way this start of this connection will be a challenge and there is some sneaking around one way or another. The person you’ll want will be well respected and I am seeing very attractive, if male he has darker features except skin tone(like brunette hair, black eyes, yet pale as snow), very specific for a handful, also male or female they are tall or have excellent posture. You will notice this powerful, confident and great posture right away so if you needed a way to identify. I think some of you already know this person(take what resonates). I think this person puts responsibility over love and their heart, it’s sad cause it hurts them so but they have had to be the responsible and strong one for as long as they can remember. Please don’t hate them or take it personal. They don’t want to hurt you.

(rider waite: 2OS, JDMT, 10OP, KNOS, 9OS, KOP)

Some steal details(18+): Well goddamn okay. This is a sexy son of a b*tch that’s for sure. You want a soft yet stern doms/domme? This is for you lol. I get handsome/beautiful, bossy yet charmingly pain in the ass type energy. Like a tease. I keep seeing someone smirk. A little shit thats for sure! They enjoy taking charge and believe me you won’t mind it at all. This person believes practice makes perfect and Lord I feel they have and do. Ummm, if a man, he could have a large you know what. I feel he is proud of this but is one of the types that doesn’t tell everyone but slying enjoys people’s reactions when they get with him behind closed doors. So male or female, this person is charming and kind, so kind. Ugh, like they want to give you all you need and want just to see you light up with joy(yes this goes sexually and non-sexually). Like’s incoropating food and drink into the bedroom. Lowkey would bang outside under the starts. Yet so cute and cuddly, y’all I’m jealous. Has a lot of wild and freaky kinks that I feel y’all will like to play out together. Don’t let this person’s work persona and seriousness scare you, they are a big softie and teddy bear in the end. This person will never abuse their power both outside the bedroom and inside. Aftercare is a big deal here especially if there is any extreme practices, Iike I said, they won’t use their power against you. “Your wish is my command.” Have fun with this one. I mean the photo for this pile gives off a strong and primal energy to it so yeah haha.

(sexual magic tarot: KOS, EMP, DVL, 6OC, STR, 7OP)

(omg this song fits this energy so much plus it’s an amazing song and band, check it out!)

[clementinesandwine]

Jealous Kiba

I have absolutely been slacking on writing any fics, and this isnt my normal content, but I have been thirsting for Kiba recently. So obviously, I have to write this 5.3K word filth :)

✧˖ ° includes~ seemingly modern au, established friendship, nsfw, jealous Kiba, praise kink, choking, dom!kiba, sub!reader, biting, scratching, hair pulling, honorifics, reader called good girl etc.

You all gathered at Sakura’s apartment for her small birthday celebration. She had finally turned 21, the house smelling of booze and excitement, Kiba noted. He was stone-cold sober, having driven himself here, and not as happy as everyone around.

Kiba watched stealthily from his spot on the couch as you stood next to the pony-tailed idiot. Now he had nothing against Shikamaru, it's just that he was standing too close for comfort and he missed when you would stand that close to him, even if you and him had only been friends. You guys used to hang out every day, but recently Kiba noticed you distancing yourself. Probably because you were buddy buddy with Shaikamaru. God, Kiba could practically smell the jealousy on himself. He had no right to really be mad, having never confessed his feelings to you, but still, had all your days together meant nothing? Now you’re outwardly flirting with one of his friends?

You threw your head back, laughing. Kiba noticed the way you placed your hand on Shikamaru’s shoulder, slightly pushing him away. He knew Shikamaru wasn’t that fucking funny, so why the hell were you laughing so hard? Kiba watches as you lean in and give Shikamaru a hug, figuring you were getting ready to leave. He couldn’t help but notice the way Shikamaru held you, one arm on your waist, the gentle rub of his hand on the back of your head as you pressed flush against his chest. Kiba could have torn him apart at that moment, but he calmed himself. He could never cause a scene like that, but if Kiba ever sensed discomfort from you, he would be by your side in an instant. No matter who the person was, if they made you uncomfortable, Kiba was there.

He got up, flattening out his army green hoodie, and walked over to you.

“Hey (Y/N), you heading home for the night?” He asks you.

You jump, a little startled and a little nervous. You had missed Kiba, but distancing yourself was the only way you thought you could get over this stupid crush. You and him had been friends for years, you couldn’t ruin it over some silly feelings. But fuck, did he look good in green, the long sleeves of his hoodie pushed up giving you full view of his muscular forearms.

“Oh, yeah, I’m ready to hit my bed. Just gotta say bye to Sakura and thank her for inviting me,” you respond, looking up into his eyes. He towered over you.

“Let me drive you home then, you’ve been drinking, no?”

“Only like, two. You know I don’t drink like that. I’m fine to walk home, Kib,” you say.

“Well, you know I could never let a pretty girl like you walk home alone at night,” he starts, mimicking you. “Plus, I miss your stupid face,” He says, one hand on the back of his neck.

“Wow,” you say jokingly. “I don’t know if I should be offended or flattered with that two in one combo.”

Your laugh calms his nerves. “Oh come on, I can’t just be giving out compliments, (Y/N). But, you can take it however you want,” he says, flashing his canines.

“I take it you won’t have no for an answer, so I’ll meet you at the front door, hm?” You question, looking at him with doe eyes.

He swears his knees almost buckle with you looking at him like that. Faking innocence. Kiba nods his head like an excited puppy and makes his way to the door.

When you’re done saying bye to everyone, you walk over to the front door. You spot Kiba standing there, rocking on his heels. His hands were stuck in his jean pockets, head down, his scruffy hair falling a bit into his face. He looked so good.

“I’m ready,” you say simply, trying to collect yourself.

He gives you a look up and down, brows furrowed. “Where’s your jacket?”

“Oh, I didn’t bring one,” you say with a smile.

“Tsk, tsk. (Y/N), you know what kind of man I am. Did you really think I was gonna let you walk outside in that little dress with no jacket?” He begins to pull off his hoodie. His black T-shirt underneath lifts along with it, giving you a full view of his toned abs. You can’t help but squeeze your legs together, knowing if you put that hoodie on, the smell of him so close would drive you nuts.

“Kiba I’ll be-” you start, but are cut off by him shoving the sweater into your chest.

“No buts. Put the sweater on please,” Kiba says. You do as you’re told, the sweater falling slightly below your bottom. Almost the length of the white dress you were wearing. “There,” he says. “Much better.”

While you walk to the car, Kiba keeps the doors locked. He knows you would try to open it yourself and he just could not have that. He was too much of a gentleman. When he gets to the passenger door, he holds the handle, unlocks the door, and pulls it open for you. You can feel your cheeks warm at his action. You have to stop thinking of your friend like this, he’s just being nice.

He waits until he sees you are all set in your seat, feet comfortably in the car, before he softly closes the door and makes his way to the driver's side. You look through the tinted windows, openly ogling at his biceps and chest that are oh so visible through his shirt. You realize you do not really want to go home. You want to spend some time with the boy you’ve been avoiding for a month now. As he connects his phone to the radio and picks a playlist, you call him.

“Kiba, do you actually mind if we drive around a bit or something? I don’t actually want to go home, I was just tired of being around so many people,” you say, which isn’t a total lie. You didn’t want to be around everyone. And his hoodie was just a convincing factor for you to stay out with him.

“Of course, you know I love my late nights,” he says, looking over at you. “Especially when I spend them with you.”

Kiba can’t stand himself. For one, he’s being too corny. Two? He is trying to flirt with his best friend. Maybe he’s just confident after seeing you with another man, but he doesn’t think he wants to hide his feelings anymore. “Why don’t we go to our little spot by the water? Listen to some music in private?” he asks.

All you can do is nod your head and watch as he puts the car in drive. You keep looking over to his hands on the wheel, his muscles flexing with each turn. You feel stupid getting turned on by something so small, but you can’t help it. The sound of the leather cracking when he grips the wheel, the veins on his hands. You clench your thighs together, that familiar feeling erupting in your lower stomach. Kiba pretends not to notice.

He pulls up close to the water and turns the headlights off. One of your guys favorite songs starts to play, you make out the lyrics even though the volume is low.

“Oh my god, remember when we used to sing this so loud and your mom would yell at us to shut up cause it would wind up the dogs too much?” You ask, giggling at the memory.

“How could I forget?” He responds. “We did that everyday for weeks. We were always together.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry. I’ve just been busy recently,” you lie.

“Busy with Shikamaru?” Kiba asks, letting jealousy get the best of him. How fucking stupid.

“Why,” you ask with a sly smile, still very nervous. “Are you jealous, Kiba?”

Kiba gives you a double take, blushing at what you just said, the color of his cheeks matching his markings. “No no not at all. I-i’m just saying you guys are hanging out a lot recently. Didn’t know if you guys had a thing or something. I mean, I didn’t peg him to be your type, honestly,” he says, fidgeting with his own fingers.

“What do you think my type is, exactly?” You ask, leaning a bit closer. You don’t know what it is or where your confidence is coming from, but you can’t help but tease the boy. He doesn’t take the bait, though, only shrugging his shoulders.

“Yeah well, you’re right. Definitely not my type at all. He’s too quiet and laid back. You know I’m pretty quiet too, I’d like someone a little more outgoing to push me out of my comfort zone. Someone really funny, too, you know? A gentleman. Plus, he’s got a really big thing for Temari. We’re only been hanging out recently because he wants me to be his wingman,” you say, leaning back into your seat. You cross your arms over your chest.

“Wingman?” Kiba asks, again with his cute, furrowed brows.

“Yeah, I’m the one that brought Temari to the party. I guess I’m more of a wingwoman,” you say with a giggle. You look over, trying to maintain eye contact, but he keeps looking away.

“Oh okay, so when are you gonna start hanging out with me again,” he asks, leaning back in his seat. A stupid smirk plastered on his face. “Or is there more to ditching me than you’re letting on?”

You push his shoulder, admiring the feel of his muscle under your hand, only for a second. “No there’s nothing, you idiot. I miss hanging out with you.”

“Yeah well I’ve been missing you. And don’t tell Akamaru I said this, but he misses you too,” Kiba laughs. “If I’m being honest, I might’ve been a little jealous of Shikamaru,” he confesses. He knows you won’t judge him for saying that.

“Why’s that?” you ask, innocently. Your heart starts beating faster at the thought that Kiba is jealous of someone else for stealing you away.

“You’re my girl,” he says, looking up through his lashes.

“Don’t say that, stupid. You’re being so mushy.”

“But it’s true, you are my girl,” Kiba says. He knows Shikamaru isn’t a problem anymore, but he can’t stand the idea of you being with any man. He needs to make a move, even if it ruins the friendship. At least then he would know he tried. He can see your blush spreading across your face. You are no longer teasing Kiba, he always comes back 10 times stronger, your lips held in a thin line. “You don’t want to be my girl?” He asks.

You squeeze your thighs at his words and look down, no idea how to respond. “I-,” you start, but it goes nowhere. Your stomach is spinning.

Kiba slowly places his hand under your chin and brings you to face him. “What is it, sweetheart?”

Honestly, it's easier for him to be this soft with you, having not seen you for weeks. It's like all this time being away has given him the courage to finally open up. You still can’t answer, but Kiba can smell you. Smell the slight arousal. Notice how you have your hands neatly folded in your lap, squeezing your plush thighs together. All he can think about is being suffocated by those thighs. Kiba can’t believe his own confidence, but he finds it harder to believe how easy it is to turn you on. And how cute you are.

He leans into your ear. “You know,” he whispers. “The only thing I can think about is kissing those pretty lips of yours.”

You feel your heart stop. “Do it, then,” you whisper back.

He’s on you in a second, lips molding together like art. His hand runs up the back of your head, pushing you closer into his mouth. You shiver at his touch. Kiba licks your lower lip, wanting allowance to fully explore your mouth. You part your lips slightly, letting him in. You can taste the mint on his tongue as your hand slides over to rest on his chest. Kiba’s breath hitches when he feels your delicate fingers slide up to his neck and back down to his chest. You pull away at the sound.

“I-I’m sorry,” you say quickly, bringing your hand up to wipe your mouth. He snatches your hand before it reaches your mouth.

“Why are you apologizing, cutie? You getting flustered?” He asks. Of course he’s gonna be cocky now, knowing you want him the way he wants you.

“I just… I don’t want this to ruin anything, I just…” you can't find the words.

“I want you, (Y/N). I can smell that you want me too. How long have you been hiding it?” Kiba asks. You remain silent. “Come here, baby, come sit in my lap,” he says, pulling your arm slightly. You follow his orders, always having been so obedient. It turns Kiba on to no end and he can feel himself straining in his pants. The thought of fucking you sensless in his car floods his mind.

“I’ve been lying to you for a long time, (Y/N). I don’t want to be your friend anymore,” he says, kissing the corner of your lip to your jawline and down your neck. “I want you to really be my girl.”

You whine at the feeling of his tongue on your neck. “Can I touch you here?” He asks, placing his hands on your hips lightly.

“Yes… please.”

His lips are back on yours, hands gripping your waist and sliding up slightly, smooth fingers gliding up your back. Your hands are running up over his biceps, on his chest, fingers curling into his hair. You can’t help yourself, having finally been given the chance to touch the boy of your dreams. You can’t help but moan when his teeth graze your ear.

“Shh, don’t do that. You can’t handle what comes next, yet,” Kiba says. He doesn't want to hurt you.

“I-I can,” You grind your hips down, causing him to groan in return. He tightens his hold on your hips. “Please Kiba, I want it, want you,” you beg. He’s silent and you become overly aware of the situation you’re in. Sitting in your best friend's lap, practically drooling at the thought of him touching you. You’re afraid you went too far.

He stares at you intently before grinding your hips against him again. “How am I supposed to say no when you ask all sweet like that, hm? Look so fucking cute in my sweater. Always act so innocent, but you want me to ruin you, huh?”

He’s rambling now, sliding your hips against his even harder. You go to kiss his neck, biting slightly, when he lets out a hiss. “You gonna let me touch you underneath this cute little dress? Gonna let me take it off?” he growls into your ear. You can feel yourself slick from just his words.

“Please, Kiba. Touch me, I want you to touch me,” you whine.

“Where, baby? You want me to touch you here?” he says, letting his thumb graze over the wet patch forming in your panties. You gasp at his touch, hips bucking into his hand. “So sensitive,” he whispers.

“Don’t tease me, Kiba.”

“I won’t if you keep saying my name like that,” he responds, canines flashing through his smirk.

Your lips crash into his again, his hands sliding up under your dress. He palms the plush of your thigh, squeezes your ass and drags you closer against him. You move your hips against him as he slides his hands up, slowly taking off the hoodie and dress in one go. You’re embarrassed to admit you weren’t wearing a bra, the cool air causing your nipples to harden immediately.

Kiba throws his head to the side, swearing under his breath. “No bra, baby?” He smirks, kissing your chest.

You shy away. “They- they’re uncomfortable… never wear ‘em,” you whisper.

His thumb swipes over your nipple and you arch into him. “They’re so perfect, you’re so fucking perfect.” He’s practically devouring you, leaving purple and pink bruises all over your chest, collar bones, wherever he can get his mouth. He needs to mark you, show the world you belong to him, claiming you.

“Kibaaa,” you whine.

“Whaaat?” he asks back, mimicking you. He smiles softly, bumping his nose to yours.

You become shy all over. “Can, uh, can we go in the back?” you ask. Your body is pressed to his chest, hiding yourself slightly.

“Fuck yes, we can go in the back. Go ahead baby,” he says. You climb back and cover yourself with the hoodie as he makes his way out of the car and walks to the back seat. Opening the door, he climbs in and notices the hoodie. “Take that off sweetheart, let me see my pretty girl.”

He's back on you in a second, kissing you roughly, pulling you against him while sliding his hands up your back. He gets you onto your back and rolls up the hoodie into a pillow. After placing it under your head, he places his left hand on your cheek, kissing you softer this time. More passionate. His right hand slides lower, cupping you gently and placing little pressure. You grind up into his hand and he can’t help but grind into the seat. Kiba is unbelievably hard, especially with seeing how needy you are for him. He kisses his way down till he makes it to your sweet cunt. It's a tight squeeze, but it's all worth it. He has been smelling your arousal for over an hour now, he needs to taste you on his tongue.

Kiba takes a look at your cute, lace panties, noting the wet spot that's formed in the center. “These are cute,” he says, toying with the fabric.

You’re looking down at him, trying to muster up the courage to say something. “Th-Thought you didn’t just give out compliments,” you say.

Kiba kisses your thigh dangerously close to your core and responds, “Baby, I would give you any and everything.”

His fingers loop under the waist of your panties as he looks up at you for permission. You nod your head slightly and he pulls them off in one swift motion, holding them to his nose and inhaling sharply. You clamp your thighs shut, shy from his action.

“You smell so fucking good. Open your legs, babygirl, let me taste you. Please?”

You do as you’re told and it makes his cock twitch, still caged in by his pants. The way you respond, giving him everything he asks for, drives him mad. He takes a second to admire you, your body, the slick gathered on that pretty pussy of yours. He slides one hand up your thigh, rubbing softly, while the other uses his middle and ring finger to swipe through your folds. Your hips thrust upwards as he pulls the fingers to his mouth, absolutely drunk off your arousal.

He groans at the taste, his breath fanning over your dripping core, causing you to clench. Kiba is already addicted to you, needing to feel you everywhere. He kisses your inner thigh, mere inches away from where you need him most. The feeling of his teeth sinking into the soft flesh sends a shiver up your spine and leaves your mouth hanging open.

Kiba softly kisses your clit before licking a stripe through your folds. He curses himself for not trying to get with you sooner, already addicted to your taste. His tongue teases your hole before swirling it around your clit. Kiba’s hand slides up your waist slowly as he works his tongue on your most sensitive part, your moans only spurring him on. His fingers slide over your nipple, pinching softly, and you arch into him, grinding into his mouth. He moans into you, the vibrations adding to your pleasure and you can’t help but squeeze your legs around him. He slides his other hand up to force your legs back open, while his other leaves your nipple to wrap around your throat. He squeezes softly.

You gasp and your hands fly down to his hair, wrapping your fingers around his brown locks and tugging. He growls into you, making you moan, “Kiba o.. oh fuck, please,” you beg, not sure what for. He hums back to you, the vibrations making you tremble again.

He pulls his face away, only darting his tongue out to play with your clit, while the hand holding your leg open reaches for your entrance. “So fucking good,” he mumbles against you. “Such a sweet, little pussy for me.”

Kiba enters you slowly with one finger and you pull his hair harder. He feels like he’s about to burst, but he knows he has to get you ready. Wants you to cum on his fingers first. You’re getting louder, moaning over the music, when he adds a second finger. Kiba curls his fingers upwards and finds your spot almost immediately, as if he already knew your body inside and out. With his fingers inside you, he pushes his face back into you, circling his lips around your clit and sucking softly. You wonder where he got such skills for a moment and it makes you jealous, which doesn’t last long, when you feel his hand slowly slide down from your neck to your waist.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck K-Kiba I’m cl-close,” you stutter out.

“I know baby, you’re clenching around my fingers. So tight,” he mumbles back. “Go ahead, cum for me. I need to taste you. That’s it, good girl.”

That's all you needed to send you over the edge. That neat, little coil wound up so perfectly had finally snapped. Your legs were trembling, back arched, and head thrown back. Kiba couldn’t help but admire your expression as you came all over his face and fingers. He slowed his movements and finally pulled his face away, sitting on his knees while still finger fucking you slowly.

You look up at him, his lips and chin soaked with your juices. You can’t help but look down at his hand inside you, watching the muscles in his arms flex as fucks you, before looking back up at his face. He leans over and kisses you softly.

“You see something you like, sweetheart? You’re clenching around me again,” he says with a satisfied grin.

“You just look so good with my cum dripping down your chin,” you say out of breath.

“Oh yeah? For a second there, I could have sworn you were looking at something else” Kiba mumbles, kissing your neck softly and curling his fingers again.

You moan at the feeling, “Please Kiba, I need you inside me.” You wrap your hand around his length and rub through his jeans.

“Fuck, baby, you gonna let me use this cute pussy of yours?” he asks. You nod eagerly, sitting up with him and pulling at his shirt.

“Take this off. I wanna feel your skin on mine,” you mumble quickly.

Kiba laughs back, “Yeah? Or do you wanna just see my muscles? You’ve been eyein’ them this whole time.”

“Maybe a little bit of both,” you smile and lean in, pecking his lips. He pulls his shirt over his head quickly and you run your hand down his chest, towards his length, admiring his toned torso and smooth skin. You unbuckle his belt to the best of your ability and he lifts his hips, allowing you to pull his length out. You’re speechless.

“I-I don’t know if it's gonna fit,” you say, without thinking.

He laughs, “Don’t worry baby, I’m gonna take care of you. And if it's too much,” he starts, grabbing your chin between his thumb and pointer finger, “you tell me right away, okay? I don’t care what the issue is, if it hurts, if you’re tired. There doesn’t even have to be a reason. You wanna stop? Just say the words, no questions asked, and I will take care of you.”

He slides his hand to your cheek, caressing it with his thumb. You nod your head, but he won’t take that for an answer this time. “I need your words, my love. Tell me you understand.”

“I promise to tell you if I need you to stop,” you say confidently.

“Good girl,” Kiba says. “Come sit on my lap, princess.”

You swing your leg over his, sitting directly over his tip. He slides his hands up your back, kissing your chest softly. Your hand reaches down and lines his length up with your entrance. You wrap your arms around Kiba’s neck and his hands settle at your waist. You begin to sink down on his length, the stretch painful, but good at the same time.

“That’s it, love. Slow, just like that. Doing so good for me, so tight,” he mumbles into your ear. Your head is down, struggling to maintain any bit of composure, and his grip tightens on your waist. Kiba hisses through his teeth when you fully sink down on him, your walls already fluttering around him. You swear you've never had anything this deep inside of you before.

“You okay, babygirl,” he asks, searching your eyes for any lies. You can see the love he holds for you.

“Y-yes… just so, s-so full,” you respond.

Kiba pulls you in for a kiss, his tongue exploring your mouth instantly. He pulls your hips back up before pushing you back down on his length, trying to find a steady pace. You melt under his touch and lean your head on his shoulder. Your moans sound directly in his ear and he can’t help but graze his teeth on your shoulder. When you whine, he sinks his teeth in softly. Not enough to pierce your skin, but enough to leave a mark. When he lifts your body again, he keeps it there.

“Come here, sweetheart,” he says, pulling you against his chest. Your arms fold in, hands left on his shoulders and your head remains next to his. Cheek against cheek. “I got you baby, so good,” he whispers, one arm around your waist, his hand squeezing your side. His other arm is pulled diagonally across your back, with his hand gripping your shoulder. He begins to thrust up into you, hugging you against his chest.

“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted this. To have you falling apart like this because of me,” he starts. Kiba pushes his head down and starts kissing along your collarbone. “When I saw you and Shikamaru today, I got so jealous, the way you touched him, the way you let him touch you. God, I’m angry just thinking about him touching you. Anyone touching you. I can’t let anyone else touch you after that.”

He’s full on grunting now, slamming into you at an ungodly pace. Your legs are shaking and your moans are spilling out, unable to control them anymore. The hand he has on your shoulder runs up the back of your neck and grabs a fist full of hair, pulling your head back. He nibbles on your neck and you can feel him grinning against you.

“You are mine,” he growls out, accentuating each word with a particularly hard thrust. You clench around him. You can’t help but topple over the edge again, your juices dripping down your thighs as you moan out his name.

“Oh you like that? Being told who you belong to? Look at you, baby. Always acting so innocent in public, but here you are, cumming all over my cock in the backseat of my car. You sound so fucking pretty, baby, taking me so well,” He continues. “Go ahead, tell me who you belong to.”

Your head is dizzy, trying to grasp on to anything as he fucks you stupid. The words coming out of his mouth have you shocked. The humiliation and praise all at once has you sinking your nails into his shoulder. “Y-you,” you try to start but only end up stuttering. “I belong to you, Kiba,” you gasp out.

“Good girl,” he kisses your cheek. Kiba can feel himself getting lost in you, and tries to hold back the urge to finish already. He wants to finish with you.

“I’m close, love,” he whispers. “Think you can finish with me?”

“Yes! Yes I can, please, feels so good inside,” you babble out.

He pushes you back, your back hitting the back of the driver's seat, and you hold yourself up with your thighs. Kiba wraps his hand around your throat again, squeezing slightly. You reach a hand down to play with yourself, but Kiba grabs your hand and puts it on his chest. You whine in response, knowing you wouldn't be able to form a full sentence anyway.

“It's okay, sweetheart, let me do it for you. You know I take care of you, don’t you?” Kiba asks, though he doesn’t expect an answer. Not with how blissed out you look. He rubs steady circles on your clit, his abdomen burning from holding back. Your legs are shaking and he can’t help but smile at you, the only words leaving your mouth being “Oh fuck” and “please.”

“Awww, you cockdrunk that easy?” He grabs your jaw and forces you to look at him. “Your pussy feels so good clenching around me, like you were made for me. You were made for me, weren’t you, baby? Fuck,” Kiba says. He’s never talked so much during sex, but it's so easy with you. And you obviously love the sound of his voice, judging by the way you flutter around him every time he speaks.

You know you can’t last much longer, the overstimulation from your previous orgasms having an affect on you. Your thighs are burning from holding yourself up. “Ki-Kiba I-” you try to start.

“I know baby, me too. Look at me, I want you to look at me while you cum on my cock,” he says, turning your head to face him. “That’s it, so pretty, doing so good for me. Taking me so well.”

You begin to shake, looking Kiba in his dark eyes, as your orgasm washes over you. He’s falling over the edge almost instantly, your pussy milking him for all he has, filling you until the sticky, white substance begins to slip out.. He pulls you into his chest and you relax against him, steady your breathing as he rubs small circles on your back.

“Such a good girl,” he says, kissing your forehead. You look up at him, puckering your lips for another kiss. He laughs lightly, kissing your lips, and pushes your hair out of your face. His hairs are sticking to his forehead with sweat. You can feel the slick covering your bodies, but don’t want to move.

“You want to be my girl, now?” Kiba asks.

“You idiot, I’ve always wanted to be your girl. I’ve always wanted you to be my boy.”

Kiba leans over and grabs that same green sweater, pulling it over your head and guiding your arms through the sleeves.

“Why don’t we go back to my place? I’ll help you take a shower… maybe cuddle and spend the night?” Kiba asks, hopeful.

“Yes, I’d love to,” you giggle.

He helps you put your panties back on and gets himself dressed. Getting out of the car, he picks you up from the back seat and brings you back to the passenger side, buckling you in and kissing your forehead. When he gets back to the driver side, you cuddle up to his arm and stay there the whole ride home.

Pretty sure I fixed any typos, but apologies if there are any. Also apologies for slacking recently on writing, just a full time college student thats burnt out haha :). Of course, will be doing my best to get some stuff out.

[hoes-love-lani]

Not What It Looks Like Pt. 1

Request: Omg Lani, I’m so fucking high rn and I gots an idea. What about a ghostface Amber fic where she breaks into r’s house as ghostface. I kinda want it to be like in scream 1996 with Tatum where r goes: “don’t kill me Mr ghostface, I wanna be in the sequel.” But like ghostface/amber spares them for s*x in return. And then r finds out it’s Amber bc of the way ghostface is fucking them. ITS A LOT, I KNOW BUT I FEEL LIKE IM COOKING UP SOMETHING HERE- (anyway, I love your work ;3, keep doing yo shi bsf)

Pairing: Ghostface!Amber x fem!reader

Summary: Ghostface breaks into r’s apartment, fearing for her life, r would do anything to survive.

Warning: Ghostface, breaking in, red text color is ghostface talking, set in scream 5 but with certain characters added from scream 6🤓

A/n: okay Walter white, I see you cooking up something other than that weed :3 I love this request tho, istg I gotta get high more often to create ideas this good LMAO! No but seriously, this sounds amazing and thank you for asking me to write this! (Plus, I find it funny that you censored sex)

You were at your friend Tara’s dorm with the rest of your friend group, playing uno and getting drunk. You were sat down between Tara and your girlfriend Amber. She rested her hand on your thigh as she watched the game, sipping on her beer. 

“Uno!” You raised your hands in the air as a sign in victory, the rest of the group groaning and slamming their cards down onto the wooden dining table.

As you cheered and gloated in front of everyone’s face, the news on the TV started blaring, the siren blaring in your ears.

“Breaking News: Blackmore University film student by the name of Jason Carvey was found brutally stabbed in his dorm. The mutilated body of his roommate, Gary Bruckner, has been found crammed inside the fridge. A bloody Ghostface mask was found on the scene, police ran a DNA test and concluded that the mask belonged to Billy Loomis,”

“The infamous Ghostface of Woodsboro,” You and the group finished the sentence in unison. After the Woodsboro attack, the group moved to New York to live a “normal life”

But it looks like the plans gone to shit.

Amber reached over for the remote and shut the TV off. When you looked at her, her expression was stone cold, her jaw clenched as she stared at the blank screen. You originally thought it was from shock, but there was something in the way her lips pursed too hard that made it seem odd.

“It’s probably not even Ghostface this time, just some random looking for a thrill.” Mindy said as she got up to grab another beer.

“I’m sorry, Catherine Obvious, but have you been here for the past year?” Chad waved his hand in front of Mindy’s face when she sat down. “It’s obviously him… they followed us.” He leaned back his chair, drumming his fingers on his arm.

The room was silent for a moment, everyone taking in the information that no one wanted to hear.

“We need to go.” Sam stared down in the middle of the table, her eyes burning holes into the colorful Uno cards. 

“Psh, Sam, it’ll be fine. Don’t be dramatic.” Amber smirked as she wrapped her arm around your shoulder, her attitude completely different than what it was 10 seconds ago.

Sam threw a death-glance at Amber, about to cuss her out before Anika spoke up, 

“Yeah, I think we’ll be fine. If anything, we have cute boy across the street to help us.” Anika smirked as Sam’s face grew a bright red, muttering something under her breath before beelining to her room.

“Well. I say we call it a night.” Chad said as he stretched his arms over his head.

Everyone agreed and collected their belongings while Mindy was (rightfully) the one to help clean up everything.

————————————————————————

Amber had her arm wrapped around your waist as she walked you back to your dorm. When you arrived, Amber softly kissed your cheek as her other hand traveled up your shoulder, her fingers digging into your skin.

“Be safe, y/n. I can’t handle another one of Sam’s hour-long speeches about sticking together.”

You softly chuckled as she swept a strand of hair from your face. “I’ll try. But if anything happens, I’ll call you. Goodnight, Amber.” You softly squeezed her arm before letting go, entering your dorm as you blew her a kiss.

You locked the door behind you, placing your phone and keys on the entryway table. You stretched your arms above your head, your muscles tense from the game and a pounding headache from the news and the amount of alcohol in your system. 

You walked into your bedroom, taking off your shoes before grabbing a pair of pajamas and heading to the bathroom, your steps slow and relaxed.

The hot water of the shower rained down on you, your muscles relaxing from the aroma of the lavender bodywash that Amber bought for you. The soap suds ran down your curves, collecting at the foot of the shower before being washed away.

When you finished and wrapped yourself in a towel, you walked to the sink to brush your teeth. The spearmint toothpaste lingered in your mouth before being replaced with the strong taste of the cool mint mouthwash you spat out into the sink.

You put in a black bra and a pair of black panties before grabbing your pajamas. The blue cotton antic stuck to your damp body as you pulled the shirt over your head and stepped into the matching pants.

You threw your dirty clothes into the weaven laundry hamper, the bin rocking against the wall for a split second. 

You sat down in front of your vanity, grabbing your brush and running it through the knots in your hair. The brush caught on one particularly big knot in your hair. As you struggled to brush it out, the landline that was sitting on your bedside table started ringing.

“Unknown Number”

The words flashed on the tiny screen as the ringing filled the room.

 Once you brushed out the tangle, you reached over to press the “accept” button on the landline.

“Hello? Y/n speaking. ” You called out as you ran a hand through your hair.

“Hello? Is Maria there?” The voice on the other line was adenoidal and croaky.

Maria was your roommate who was currently out of town, visiting her parents.

“No, she’s not available. Might I ask who this is?”

“I’m Joey. I’m in her trig class” The caller cleared their throat.

“Oh yeah? Joey from trigonometry. How come I’ve never heard of you, Joey from trigonometry?” You smirked as you teased the poor person on the other line.

“You sound exactly like how she describes you.”

“She talks about me?

“I don’t think I can really talk about that.”

“What does she say about me?”

“She says that you’re creative. You love reading and TV and movies.”

“Lots of people love movies.”

“Yeah, but she says you love scary movies and that you guys have that in common.”

“She told me the other day, she wonders…” The voice trailed off for a moment before continuing.

“What’s your favorite scary movie?”

Your ear perked up as you faced the landline, the bright green color of the screen stared at you, blinking the numbers over and over again.

“Well, I really liked “X”. It’s great representation of the psycho-biddy genre.”

“Sounds kinda boring to me. Have you ever seen Stab?”

“Once, i think. At a sleepover when I was, like, 12.”

“You lived in Woodsboro when you were a kid and you don’t know Stab?”

Now that, caught your attention. No one exceopt for the rest of the group knew you were from Woodsboro. You picked up the phone, pulling it to your ear as you made your way back into the living room to grab your cell.

“How’d you know I lived in Woodsboro?”

The voice on the other line was replaced by heavy breathing and the sound of rummaging.

“This isn’t fucking funny, Amber.”

“I told you, this isn’t Amber. But you’re looking particularly fetching tonight. Those blue pajamas really fit you.”

“What do you want?” You grabbed your phone and pulled up the dial button, as you pressed in the 9 and 1, the voice boomed again.

“Stop right there, y/n. You call the cops, you die. You hang up the phone, you die. It’s not hard getting into your dorm. Especially when you leave your window unlocked.”

That’s when you felt the slight breeze behind you. As you turned around, you saw that the living room window was wide open, the wind flowing with the curtains.

You bolted to the window, slamming it shut and locking it. You ran into your room, locking the door behind you.

The voice came on the landline again, “Come on, y/n… Don’t be shy, come and find me…”

You searched every nook and cranny in your room, carefully making sure there was no sign of Ghostface here.

When you searched under your bed, you found a bloody Ghostface mask, more blood stuck to your hands the longer you held it… it was easy to recognize this one too…

Mickey Alteri

The 2nd Ghostface

“What the fu-,” was all you could manage to get out before you heard the doors of your closet adjacent to the bed, crashing open. A black-robed figure sprinting at you was the last thing you saw before being tackled to the ground by Ghostface. A knife was pressed against your throat from the person above you, the voice changer crackled with every heavy breath.

“Surprise, y/n.”

[ladymarycrawley]

Goalscorer of my heart - John Stones

do you really think I could end this day without writing sth to celbrate the man of my dreams' goal?

Warning: fluff with a hint of smut (not proofread sorry, time's running and I have to up for work in like 6 hours)

Tag list: @masonxomount, @prideofpd, @johnstonesfc, @stonesyyyy + @footiehoemcfc & @cityzenchick who kindly asked for it 🫶🏻

(gif credits to @doinggreat )

“Hello? Is the man of the match talking?”

“Well I’m not the man of the match” You could feel John’s embarrassment at your subtle compliment by the little giggle in his voice, surely followed by his hand scratching the back of his neck.

“Well you should have been…you played amazingly”

“Thanks but you’re a little biased”

“You’re the goalscorer of my heart” You cooed in his ear, hoping he would have heard that despite all his teammates cheering and screaming in the background.

The image of John blushing and making a little smile appeared before your eyes as if he was standing there in the room with you. You knew him like the back of your hand and could picture his every little move even at a distance.

“Thanks, I’m really happy with that goal”

“As you should, you know what that celebration reminded me of?”

“No idea, guess you should tell me about it later at dinner”

“Are you asking me on a date?”

“Yeah only if you’re willing to have dinner with your favourite goalscorer who played amazingly”

“Of course I am…” Now it was up to your boyfriend to picture your rosy cheeks getting closer to a darker tone of pink as he was playfully flirting with you, sighing happily when his mind went to that twinkle in your eyes that only appeared when you were with him. You somehow became each other’s mirror as you both ended biting on your lower lips simultaneously.

“Can’t wait to be your date tonight”

“Gotta go now” He had to scream as the boys were chanting his name, celebrating the hero he was “I’ll call you when I’m almost home, get ready okay?”

“I’m always ready for you”

John rolled his eyes, trying to push Ruben away from him so he could end the phone call with you properly. “Don’t be naughty nor a liar”

“I’m not! Go celebrate with the boys, I’ll see you later” You blew him a kiss and hung up.

You didn’t expect for him to take you out after a draining game like that, in fact you wouldn’t have minded a cozy night in but maybe he was in the mood for something bigger and how could you no to John Stones?

It was impossible to say no to him but you would have lied if you said you didn’t hate him a little when he didn’t tell you where he would have taken you: to that fancy little bistrot you loved? Or to the new one they opened last week he said he wanted to try? What should you have worn?

While those questions began to fill your brain, you let your body fall on the soft carpet at the centre of your walk-in closet and browse with a desperate look through your clothes.

Better a simple but cute dress or something more casual like a cool pair of jeans with a wool sweater? What if you would have been overdressed? Or, worse, underdressed??

You were too caught in your thoughts to realise your beloved boyfriend had already arrived home and you were still there in your home clothes!

“I can’t believe it” John mumbled when his eyes saw you still standing there in your sweatpants “That’s what I meant when I said not to be a liar”

“I’m not a liar I -”

“I’m always ready for you” He mimicked the sentence you said him over the phone earlier on and you tried to hold back a laugh.

“I don’t talk like that and that’s not my fault you weren’t clear enough” You fumbled while discarding your clothes on your way to the shower.

 “I said I’d have taken you out for dinner, not that we would’ve gone to fucking Buckingham palace”

“Oh my god you’re not only a good footballer but also a funny one!”

“See? You got lucky!”

“Yeah…the luckiest…”

“Hurry up I don’t think they would be happy with having us for breakfast” You stuck your tongue out at him and threw your bra in his face.

“What am I supposed to wear??”

“Your birthday suit”

“I’m serious, John”

“I’m serious too”

“Come on! Where are we going?”

“Have you ever heard of surprises? Well, consider this as one”

“You’re not helping me”

“Whatever you choose it’ll be perfect”

“A dress with a large train??”

“That’d be perfect for Buckingham palace”

You got out of the shower and glared at him.

“What are you wearing?”

“My training kit”

“JOHN”

He giggled and cupped your face to kiss your adorable pout, the one you got when you got angry was irresistible to him, especially when he caused it.

You moved your face to avoid his kiss and your pout reflected onto his face.

“Baby please, tell me where are we going”

“It’s a surprise, whatever you choose will be okay but now let’s hurry: we should be there in half an hour” He said in a low voice as you let him kiss your wet forehead.

You sighed and tried to opt for something classy but not too over the top so you wore a black velvet mini skirt matched with a black and white striped cardigan. Black sheer tights with suede boots and a faux fur coat would have completed the look.

“Okay I’m ready” You said walking down the stairs where he was waiting for you in his gunmetal grey wool coat that you loved on him.

“You look stunning”

“You look quite good as well”

“May I kiss you or would you shout at me for messing up your makeup?”

“Kiss me, I have the lipstick in my purse to fix it”

After a sweet kiss that you had to stop before it would get too messy and too long, John drove you to the mysterious restaurant that, much to your surprise, was a new one but not the one that opened a few days ago.

“How did you know about this place?”

“Being a famous footballer has its own perks”

A smiling head waiter welcomed you and showed you inside that enchanting venue.

“This place is beautiful, I’m glad I didn’t come in my birthday suit”

“Well I wouldn’t have complained about it”

“Maybe the staff would”

“In that case no staff would have been present”

“So I should have eaten meals cooked by you? Please have mercy on me”

“You’ll have to ask for mercy later on, not now…”

You blushed and cleared your throat as a waitress got closer to take your order.

While waiting for your dishes to be served, you talked about the highlight of John’s day: his goal against Liverpool.

“It was a hell of a game and when you scored…god, it  was perfect”

“Thank you babe”

“It really was! And when you celebrated with the fans…” Your eyes got teary with emotion: it was only a few weeks ago when he said he wanted to show everyone he deserved to be at City, he worked so hard and that goal was something similar to crowning achievement.

He smiled, grateful to have someone like you in his life, always ready to support him no matter what, and held your hands across the table.

“You said that reminded you of something, what was that?”

You giggled and dried your tears with your hands before revealing to him what his goal made you think of.

“Do you remember that iconic Messi’s celebration against PSG in 2017? Like that amazing comeback in Champions League?”

“Yeah, that was huge”

“Yeah it reminded me of that”

“Well” He chuckled in an obvious state of embarrassment, clearly humbled by your reference as well as by your loving words “I’m not that iconic but thank you”

“You’re at a loss for words, huh?”

“Yeah, gotta admit I didn’t expect it…and you drive me crazy when you come up with those football references” He kissed your hand that he brought closer to his cheek and made you blush madly, as if your whole face caught on fire.

After you ate the delicious dishes you ordered, including a dark chocolate soufflé you threatened John to share with you because you couldn’t care less about his food regime that night, you suggested you should go home to rest after such a long and eventful day.

“There’s something I wanna ask you”

“Yeah? What’s that?”

“I think I’ll wait and do it in the car, we wouldn’t be comfortable in a public space…”

You raised your eyebrows and followed him outside the restaurant, after he paid the bill and thanked everyone for their perfect service.

“John babe what’s wrong?”

Your mind started racing as you couldn’t help but think about something tragic like him confessing to you a treason or something along that line. You started feeling dizzy and prayed to make it to the car so you could sit down and take some deep breaths.

He sighed and looked rather nervous too.

“Erm this day has been crazy to say the least and I’d like to end it the best way possible. I want to give you something more meaningful to remember, apart from my goal and the match itself…” He cleared his throat and a blue velvet box appeared in his hands. His shaky hands opened it revealing the brightest piece of jewellery you had ever seen.

“Y/N would you marry me?”

Hot tears of joy started rolling down your face and you didn’t know what to say, you only kept nodding as he had to gently take your hands away from your face to put that fine piece of jewellery that was your engagement ring on your finger.

“I take it as yes”

“Of course you silly man” You giggled before pulling him in for a passionate and messy kiss. You did expect a good night but a wedding proposal was totally inimaginable to you. The man of your dreams asking you to marry him? Mental, that couldn’t be real…

“Can we go home so I can finally see you wearing the best look from tonight?”

“That lacy underwear set you saw in the drawer the other day?”

“Was thinking more of your birthday suit but we can start with that”

[sapphire-writes]

Under the Mistletoe ~ Down In Flames

pairing: Aegon x Reader & Aemond x Reader

summary: The infamous Christmas party that occurred before the events of Down In Flames.

word count: 3.9k

warnings: drinking, smoking, angst, descriptions & mentions of vomiting, cheating

note: this was so SO fun to revisit and write for my babies!! it honestly made me tear up how easy it was to slide back into the story, I hope you all enjoy it! 🩷

Now 

“I thought you hated me,” you tell him.

“I never hated you,” he tells you, honestly. 

You narrow your eyes, thinking back on the past two years. You and Aemond had your fair share of heated moments. It seemed like from the very beginning you were destined to piss each other off. 

“You definitely hated me,” you argue, but he shakes his head chuckling softly.

“Oh yeah?” 

“What about the time I puked in the living room?” you tell him, raising an eyebrow.

“Nope,” he answers, a smile tugging at his lips.

“Or the time I stole your car to drive to Riverrun,” you tell him.

Aemond frowns, dropping his spoon momentarily, eyebrows creasing together. 

“That was you?” he answers, thinking back, “Not even then.” 

You smirk at him then. 

“What about last year’s Christmas party?” you ask, a mischievous smirk on your face.

Aemond glares at you then, and you know you’ve got him. 

“I knew it,” you tell him but he only shakes his head at the memory. 

Then

You slam the door to Aegon’s car, hurrying up the steps toward the Targaryen mansion, heels clicking against the stone walkway. The mansion is alive with guests, you can hear the music from outside as you shiver in the frigid winter air. 

“Will you-shit-” Aegon mumbles, struggling to get out of the passenger side, hitting his head as he does, “Fucking stop!”

A wave of anger passes through you, but you do as Aegon says, coming to a stop and turning on your heel. 

“You’re supposed to be sober,” you hiss at him.

“It’s Christmas!”

You turn away from him, but he grabs your arm pouting.

“C’mon it's a party, baby please,” Aegon whines, voice breaking. 

“It’s barely sundown, and we just fucking got here,” your lip curls with anger and disgust, “Your mom is going to be pissed Aeg.”

“She won’t even notice,” he argues, sliding a hand through his hair, before digging in his suit jacket for a cigarette. 

“Fucking hell,” you groan as he struggles to light it, “You were supposed to drive.”

“Gimme the keys,” Aegon says, lips firmly around the now-lit cigarette.

You reach up, plucking it from his lips and smashing it underneath your shoe.

“That’s not fucking funny.”

“I’m a great driver.”

A reminder to you, to hide the keys later. 

“You’re an asshole,” you tell him and he frowns.

“You love it,” he argues, reaching for another cigarette.

“Do not,” you warn him and he gives an exasperated sigh.

“You my mom now?”

“Your actual mom is waiting. And your dad. They miss you.”

It’s true. Aegon rarely answers phone calls or texts from Alicent, so she’s taken to communicating through you. 

“Yeah, whatever,” Aegon grumbles, “I’m just tired, okay? Band practiced late last night.”

You hold his gaze. It’s always been so easy for him to lie to you. You think for a moment if you should call him on his shit, knowing damn well there was no rehearsal the previous night. Jace and Luke had grabbed drinks with Baela and you. 

“Sure,” you answer, choosing not to pick a fight.

Aegon reaches for you, wiggling his fingers expectantly. You lace your fingers through his and walk into his parents’ house.

The Targaryens are known for their lavish parties, and their winter holiday party is no exception. They’ve invited everyone they know, the extravagant mansion is filled with people dressed in suits and silk dresses for the occasion. The grand staircase in the foyer is wrapped with garland; a deep forest green with twinkling lights snaking up the banisters.

Several Christmas trees are present, each with a different color scheme. You remember Alicent telling you once she has them decorated for each of Viserys’ children. One entirely gold, another decorated with glittering red ornaments, and another sparkling green and bronze. 

“Hey,” Helaena greets you, making her way through the crowd.

Her silver hair is curled, half pulled away from her face in a braided bun that rests near the crown of her head. She’s wearing a pale blue dress that hugs her figure, a pair of snowflake earrings dangling from her ears. She wraps her arm around you in a hug, eyes flickering to Aegon. 

The floral scent of her perfume engulfs you and you breathe deeply, trying to calm yourself. Aegon always has your heart rate at a dangerous speed. 

“You okay?” Hel asks as she pulls away, tucking a loose piece of hair behind your ear. 

“Mhmm, just peachy,” you tell her, as Alicent approaches. 

She loops her arms around Aegon and he rolls his eyes.

“Hey Mom,” he says softly, but you know he’s enjoying the attention. 

Alicent pulls away, stroking some silver hair from his face.

“How are you?” she asks, smiling softly.

Her eyes dart over to you and she kisses your cheek, before returning her attention to her eldest son.

“I’m okay,” Aegon grumbles, “Promise.”

“I thought you’d come with Aemond,” Alicent says.

You look around the room. Aemond’s pretty hard to miss, standing over six feet tall with his platinum hair and sapphire eye that catches any light in the room. You haven't seen him yet. You do however catch the eye of Daemon, who is seated currently, Rhaenyra standing to his side conversing with someone. His lips curl into a smile and he nods, as you look away. 

You spot Baela and Jace hanging around the corner of the room and waltz over to them. Baela is the first to notice you, whistling appreciatively at your outfit. The deep midnight blue dress hugs every curve perfectly, with several sparkles glittering throughout the fabric making the dress appear as though it was crafted from the night sky. 

“You look damn good, girl,” Baela says as she hugs you. 

“Thanks, Bae,” you tell her, “You look stunning.”

Baela gives a small twirl. Most of her silver curls are piled atop her head, with a few strands loose to frame her face. The dress she wears is blood red, her cleavage spilling from the top. Jace’s cheeks are red, his eyes following Baela’s every move. 

“Where’s Rhaena?” you ask.

“Where do you think?” Baela snorts.

You look around the room and sure enough spot Rhaena, twirling a silver loc between her fingers, leaning against the wall conversing with Aemond. He’s looking the other way, directly at you, hair pulled away from his face in a low bun. You catch his eye momentarily before you look away. 

“She’s relentless,” Baela chastises, “But he seems in a good mood tonight. Didn’t bring that woman with him.”

“What was her name again?” you ask and Baela shrugs.

You remember who she’s talking about. An older woman Aemond had begun hooking up with.

“I think he stopped seeing her,” Jace comments, taking a sip of his drink. 

“Where’s Aegon?” Baela asks, though her tone suggests she wanted to avoid the topic. 

You sigh as Luke joins you, holding out a glass of wine for you to take. 

“You look like you need this,” he tells you as you graciously accept.

You take a sip and Baela raises an eyebrow. You roll your eyes looking around the room. It’s easy to find Aegon, he’s sitting on the couch, telling some story to a dark-haired girl who’s perched on the armrest next to him. His hand is twitching, as though it wants to wander up the length of her thigh. 

“He’s socializing,” you tell them, through your teeth.

“He’s disrespecting you,” Baela argues, nostrils flaring, “I’m going over there-”

“Don’t,” you warn, grabbing her arm, “I don’t want to make a scene. Not tonight.”

“This is such bullshit Y/N,” she argues.

“Just not tonight,” you beg, “Please.”

Her eyes bore into yours. Avoid, avoid, avoid. It’s what you do best. If you avoid it long enough, perhaps he’ll change. Maybe he’ll wake up and realize you’re all he needs. You don’t say this aloud. But Baela can see it in your eyes.

“Tomorrow he’s fair game,” she tells you, “I’m going to kick his ass.”

“I’d pay money to see that,” Luke says, nodding.

Baela pushes him in the shoulder and he feigns being in pain. 

“Anyone want to do shots?” he asks when he’s recovered. 

You glance at Aegon, still entranced with someone else.

“Let’s do it,” you tell Luke, who cheers in response. 

You follow him across the room, grabbing Rhaena’s hand to force her into joining. She makes a noise of protest but Aemond takes the opportunity to walk across the room, joining his grandfather in a conversation. 

“Y/N!” Rhaena whines as you hand her a shot glass.

“You’re drooling,” you tell her, “Stop it.”

“I am not,” she hisses, but she takes the shot.

“Let him come to you,” you advise, downing your own shot, “I feel like Aemond likes a chase.”

“I feel like Aemond doesn’t like anything or anyone,” Rhaena argues.

“Then why do you like him?” you wonder, eyes flickering to where he stands across the room.

Rhaena flushes, and shrugs.

“I don’t know,” she mumbles, “He seems sweet, he just needs to open a little bit. And I’m a great listener.”

“I know you are,” you say, giving her nose a boop, “Just make sure you’re being careful, okay?”

“He didn’t bring Alys,” she says excitedly, “I think he’s available again.”

Alys. That was her name. You look at Aemond again, meeting his eye as he takes a sip from his drink. Otto Hightower follows his gaze, landing on you. You turn from them both. Otto Hightower sends a shiver up your spine. 

“I’m going back over there,” Rhaena says, “How do I look?”

You smile affectionately at her. The rose pink dress she wears, the glitter on her cheeks. She’s so beautiful. Aemond doesn’t deserve her. You’re not sure why he hasn’t returned her affections.

“You look amazing,” you tell her, and then she’s off. 

You stay with Luke for a while, alternating between shots and wine. Aegon has vanished to some other part of the room, but you can’t find it in yourself to care. If he doesn’t, why should you?

You move about the room, pushing past people trying to find a spot to rest your feet. Your heels are very cute but not very uncomfortable. You walk over near the door frame that leads into the kitchen, leaning against it. You close your eyes to steady yourself, and take a deep breath; the room has started to spin.

“You’re under the mistletoe,” a voice says, leaning down to whisper in your ear. 

Daemon Targaryen.

A giggle slips through your lips. What the fuck. You must have had more alcohol than you thought if you were giggling at the antics of Daemon Targaryen. He’s painfully handsome, you have to admit, but you’ve barely spoken more than a few words to him. 

“I guess I am,” you tell him, glancing up at the green plant that hangs above your head.

“Where’s Aegon?” Daemon asks, leaning forward, a strand of silver hair falling into his face.

You bite your lip, tapping a nail against your glass. He’s handsome. Older. Your cheeks flush and your gaze runs along his chest, down the front of his tie, down to his belt buckle. You force your eyes to move back to his face and are greeted by a small smirk.

“I don’t know,” you tell him, letting your lashes flutter suggestively. 

“Shame for him,” Daemon murmurs.

He’s inching closer, a large hand pawing at your waist, drawing you nearer. It would be so easy to let him have you. It’d been so long since someone wanted you, really wanted you. Aegon wouldn’t have to know. The party guests could care less who Daemon kissed.

Almost all of them.

Aemond had been watching you for the majority of the evening. Downing glass after glass, not bothering to pace yourself. You were miserable, he could tell, as you often were. Still, he kept to the sidelines, watching from afar. But now he couldn’t take any more. 

Aemond strode through the crowd, making his way toward you and Daemon. A snarl appeared on his face as Daemon placed his free hand on the side of your face. Your lips were plump and ready to be kissed, eyes fluttering shut before Aemond pulled you from Daemon’s grasp.

“Enough,” he growled.

“Just a bit of holiday fun,” Daemon assured him, leaning against the wall.

Aemond doesn’t release his grip on your arm, long fingers digging into you painfully as he pulls you down a hallway. Your legs struggle to keep up with his wide strides, heels catching on the carpet. 

“What’s the big fucking deal? It’s a game, Aemond, a silly tradition,” you tell him, yanking your arm away. 

He’s just like Aegon. Rough, demanding, bullying. Pulling you this way and that. Aemond turns to you, lip curled in distaste.

“Cheating is a game?”

“Aegon seems to think so,” you snap, rubbing your arm. 

“So you’ve finally stooped to his level then? How mature of you.”

“Go fuck yourself.”

“Real classy of you, who’s next you think? Daeron?”

“Certainly not you,” you seethe.

Aemond’s nostrils flare, violet eye full of rage. You stare him down for a moment, chest heaving with every breath.

“I’m not interested,” Aemond says through his teeth.

“I figured,” you tell him, shoving past him.

“Y/N-”

“What?” you say, turning to face him once more, “What else, Aemond? If you have something to me, say it.”

You take a step closer. You fucking hate him. The judgemental look in his eye is written all over his face. The pure loathing that rolls off of him, creates tension in the space between you. 

“I’ve got nothing to say to you,” Aemond says, shaking his head and looking away, “Besides sober the fuck up. Aegon’s enough to deal with. I don’t need to be dragging your ass home too.”

“I hate you,” you snap, feeling childish. 

Your hands curl into fists at your sides, lower lip trembles. You can feel your eyes beginning to well with angry tears. You don’t even know where Aegon is at this point. Aemond meets your eyes then.

“Great.”

“I do.”

“Fucking fantastic, Y/N.”

“Screw you!”

“Screw you!” Aemond says, raising his voice, “This the reaction you’re looking for? Huh?”

You take a step back and something flickers across Aemond’s face. Regret. 

“Find Aegon if you’re trying to pick a fight,” he tells you, moving to leave.

“I’m….” you swallow, “I’m going to be sick.”

“What?” Aemond asks.

“I’m-” the rest of the sentence doesn’t happen as you slam your hand over your mouth, pushed by Aemond, trying to find the nearest bathroom.

“Y/N!”

Your name fades into the background as the blood rushes to your head and you have the last hour of drinks into Alicent’s favorite fern. 

“Oh shit,” Aemond says, turning away as you continue to retch.

“Get Baela!” you moan, but it comes out as garbled speech.

“What?”

“Baela!”

“Yes, okay, yeah, I’ll get her,” Aemond says, shuffling awkwardly before leaving to find Baela. 

When he returns you’re laying on your side, in the fetal position, dress scrunched around your waist. Aemond flushes slightly at the exposed flesh of your thighs before Baela kneels pulling your dress down.

“Shit,” Baela groans, “Fucking Aegon and his stupid fucking prick-faced, shit-head-”

“Bae,” you whine.

“C’mon,” Baela says, helping you to your feet, “We have to get her home.”

Aemond nods.

“I can drive,” he tells Baela.

“Where’s Aeg?” you moan, “Where is he?”

Baela and Aemond lock eyes. Neither can answer. Luckily, they’re spared the answer when your stomach lurches once more and you heave, vomiting on Aemond’s shoes. 

“Fucking-” Aemond yells, face twisting in disgust. 

Baela’s eyes widen, a harsh laugh slipping through her parted lips. Aemond glares at her. 

“It’s not funny,” Baela says, trying to hide her smile.

She shakes her head, curls bouncing around her face. Aemond kicks his feet, stomach-turning before he grabs your face with his hands. 

“No more,” he tells you, staring into your watery eyes, “We have to go through the party.”

“I can’t help it,” you groan, trying to twist your face out of his hands.

Aemond holds your face tightly in his grasp; his calloused hands are warm against your cheeks.

“Yes, you can. Just until we’re outside,” he commands you, “C’mon you love a challenge.”

It’s your turn to glare at him, but you nod biting your tongue. Aemond pats your cheeks almost affectionately.

“Good girl, okay let's go,” Aemond says, walking toward the main room.

“Do not puke,” Baela tells you as she loops her arms around you, guiding you forward.

By some miracle, you manage to say goodbye to Alicent and make it through to the rest of the guests. But when you’re on the front steps you heave once more into the rose bushes that litter the front of the house. 

Your stomach is nearly empty at this point, it's just painful dry heaves that send you curling into yourself. Your head pounds and you gasp, trying to catch your breath. 

As Baela lays you down in the back of Aemond’s car, Aegon stumbles out of the house. Baela glares at him, sharing a knowing look with Aemond as Aegon fixes his belt buckle. 

“What happened?” Aegon says, frowning at the sight. 

“She’s wasted you dickhead,” Baela snaps, brushing some hair from your face. 

Aegon climbs into the back of the car, placing your head on his lap. Baela rolls her eyes as he strokes some hair from your face, and whispers in your ear. Aemond slams the car door shut. 

“You coming with?” he asks Baela, heading to the driver’s side.

Baela doesn’t answer, she simply opens the passenger side door and slips inside. 

The drive home is quick, not that you remember much of it. The last thing you remember is Baela tucking you into bed, securing the covers around your chin. 

“What about me?” Aegon grumbles, lips forming a pout, “You gonna tuck me in too Bae?”

“You sleep in the living room,” Baela says, throwing Aegon a pillow, “Sober up asshole.”

“Fuck off,” Aegon grumbles, but Aemond places a hand on his shoulder.

“Couch,” he tells Aegon, glare murderously. 

“Whatever,” Aegon says, beginning to strip his clothing, leaving a trail behind him as he heads to the living room. 

Baela glances at Aemond, who still stands in the doorway, gaze locked on your sleeping figure. 

“I should call Jace,” Baela says, stroking the hair from your face, “Let him know I’m crashing here.”

Aemond hums in response, glancing at your sleeping figure as Baela pulls out her phone. 

“I’ll make sure Aegon leaves her alone,” Aemond tells her, “Tell Jace to pick you up.”

Baela looks him up and down.

“You sure?” she asks.

“Yeah,” he assures her and she shrugs, walking out of the room.

Aemond closes the door behind him as he leaves after Baela, not without giving you one last long look. 

When you wake, your head is pounding. You groan, mouth feeling like it's full of sawdust before you rise from bed and exit the bedroom. 

You walk into the kitchen, meaning to pour yourself a glass of water. A snore startles you and you flinch, turning toward the living room. Aegon is sleeping, mouth open, arm dangling off the side. You walk over to him, poking his cheek.

“Fuck off Aemond-” he grumbles, turning.

“Nice,” you tell him as he peers up at you.

“Can I come to bed now?” he asks.

“Not sure why you weren’t there,” you tell him, “It’s your room.”

Aegon rises, the blankets falling to the floor revealing his naked form. 

“Your knight in shining armor didn’t allow it,” he grumbles, walking past you toward his room.

“Who?”

But Aegon doesn’t answer, he just walks into his room. You hear the squeak of his bed as he lies down. You retreat back into the kitchen, opening the fridge to pour yourself a glass. As you finish you turn, only to be surprised by Aemond standing in front of you. You flinch, dropping your cup, water splashing over the floor and on your bare feet. 

“Shit!” you yelp, hopping away from the spill.

Thankfully the cup is plastic and it bounces away from you. You hurriedly grab paper towels laying them on the floor. Aemond stands, not offering any help as you clean up the spill, placing the cup on the counter. You give him a questioning look. 

He’s dressed as though he’d just woken up as well, with his hair pulled from his face in a braid and a pair of gray sweats hanging low on his hips. His signature silver chain is around his neck disappearing below the neckline of his black tank top that hugs his upper body. 

“You vomited,” Aemond tells you.

You frown, a moment of silence falling between you.

“Oh,” you tell him. 

“On my shoes,” he finishes. 

Aemond stares at you, and you stare back, cheeks reddening with slight embarrassment. Though, at least it was just Aemond. He already hates you, you’ve nothing left to really lose.

“Sorry,” you tell him. 

Aemond blinks like he wants to cuss you out before he adjusts his jaw and gives a breathless laugh instead.  

“Why don’t you just break up with him?” he asks. 

You don’t answer at first. You’ve been asked that question a million times before. By Baela. By Rhaena. By Helaena. Hell, even Alicent has pulled you aside to chat about it. No one ever understands. 

“I love him.”

Aemond nods, laughing bitterly. It feels foolish to tell him that. 

“That’s it then,” he says, more to himself than to you.

Your brow furrows, confused at his reaction as he pinches the bridge of his nose. He closes his eye, releasing a deep sigh. 

“Fuck me,” he groans, exasperated.

You swallow, assuming he’s sick of the drama he’s surrounded by. He should be. It’s fucking exhausting, you and Aegon. Aegon and you. Twin flames consuming one another. Destroying one another. 

“Do whatever you want,” he tells you, “Just don’t make me watch.”

“No one’s making you,” you snap.

“No,” he agrees, “I guess you’re right.”

Aemond walks over to you then. 

“But don’t expect me to coddle you. I’m not Baela, I’m sure as hell not Rhaena,” he says, eye flickering about your face.

Your breath catches at his closeness.

“Fine,” you tell him.

He’s close enough you can feel his breath on his face. You don’t know what you’re thinking, but you can’t help it, your eyes flicker momentarily to his lips. Aemond notices, and you hear his breathing stop. 

“Sleep it off,” he murmurs, breaking the tension.

He leans back giving you a once over, before exiting the kitchen. Aemond calls to you once more as he walks away, keeping his voice low. 

“Go to bed, Y/N.”

You’re left in the kitchen, hands clutching your glass of water. You glance out the window, watching as snow falls gently, covering the ground in a layer of powder before silently retreating back to Aegon’s room.

Aemond listens to your footsteps, his back pressed against the closed door of his room, heart beating erratically in his chest. He hears the click of Aegon’s door closing, the soft timbre of your voice flowing through the wall that separates the two rooms.

He can’t make out what you’re saying, just the disappointed tone, the soft whine that creeps into the end of your sentence. 

Aemond leans his head against the door, before grabbing a pair of noise-canceling headphones, blasting music to drown out the angry sounds that echo from Aegon’s room.

A habit he has grown tragically accustomed to.

note: thank you so so so SO much again!! I absolutely loved writing this, perhaps I'll have to write some more hehe 😘

DIF taglist: @padfooteyes, @herfantasyworldd, @kyuupidwrites, @lost-and-founds, @doublesparrows, @virginslut08, @f4ll-for-you, @violet2507, @itsabby15, @raphaellathedragon, @tswiftsthings, @cruelmissdior, @tempt-ress, @lexyr23, @reneki, @fictionalcomforts, @serrhaewin, @yariany02, @lily174, @nina2697, @minttea07, @queenofshinigamis, @duesobabe, @maximizedrhythms, @arryn-nyx, @arcadianmoonlight @kittykylax, @hiatuswhore, @issshhh, @echos-muses, @wrendermeuseless, @youcantbesirius, @partypoison00 @chainsawsangel @bellameshipper @wondergal2001, @arcielee @rwdkarla @sweetsweetpsyche @valeric-writes @sahvlren @ohdemimonde @geminidas @darkenchantress @sophielangdonx, @khaothick, @flavorofsalt, @spinachtz, @alitaar, @crazylokonugget @eddiemadmunson, @schniiipsel, @borikenlove, @afro-hispwriter, @whitefang1919, @sarcastically-defensive17, @paprikaquinn, @minttea07, @iiamthehybrid, @ghostheartbeat, @namelesslosers, @iiamthehybrid, @mendes-bae,

[gffa]

I’ve been playing GENSHIN IMPACT for over a year now and reading a bit of fic here and there, mostly of the Tartali and Zhongli&Venti variety, but then Sumeru hit and oh hey Alhaitham is an amazing unit in a quickbloom team and then Kaveh hurricaned his way into my heart and oh no suddenly I was in love and absolutely tearing my way through every bit of Haikaveh I could get my hands on because christ there’s no way Hoyoverse isn’t writing them that way on purpose. I mean, I’m already a sucker for Old Married Couple type bickering, but then you give me the undercurrent of how much they genuinely mean to each other? How much Alhaitham is genuinely caring about how self-destructive Kaveh is? How Kaveh just absolutely will not shut up about Alhaitham, even the other characters are like “You talk about him so much that it’s like he’s been here with us all night.”? Yeah, of course I fell in love. So, here, cry about a gacha game having beautifully designed characters with just the right types of personality and funny banter that know how to knock me the fuck out with both delight and genuine feelings about idiots in love. Or just old elemental grandpas who annoy the shit out of each other because they’re both several millennia old and nobody else understands their weird friendship. I’m having a great time and I’m going to make that everyone else’s problem. GENSHIN IMPACT - CHILDE IS 10000% CASUALLY UNHINGED OF COURSE HE WANTS TO NOT JUST FIGHT A GOD, HE WANTS TO FUCK A GOD: ✦ Set in Stone by seredemia, childe/zhongli & childe’s family, 115.4k wip      What do you do when you write about a certain six thousand year old consultant so much in your letters that it somehow convinces your entire family you’re not only dating each other, but that you’re also engaged? In Childe’s case, the answer is plain and simple: he goes along with it, of course. Absolutely nothing can go wrong if he makes a contract with the God of Contracts, vowing that the two of them will pretend to be lovers for the duration of his family’s stay in Liyue. Afterwards, they’ll return as normal and speak no more of this mess. No feelings or complications involved whatsoever. ✦ the wind through the mountain tops by glassdrachma, childe/zhongli & venti, 25.5k      Boredom brings Barbatos of Mondstadt to bother a certain ex-Archon of the Earth. ✦ my faceless self, alone by recursion, childe/zhongli & guizhong, 7.2k      There is one lone glaze lily left, shining brilliant blue in the depths of Dihua Marsh. Zhongli kneels over it as Xiao looks on. “The contract is fulfilled,” he whispers. He takes his mask off with trembling fingers and sets it aside. The blood that stains it seeps into the ground, turning it rust-red. “That which thou seeketh is now bestowed unto thee, for my promise is solid as stone.” (Zhongli, in the before and after.) ✦ more espresso, less depresso by birdsofpassage, childe/zhongli & ningguang & xingqiu & chongyun, coffeeshop au, 5.3k      There’s a quaint little coffee shop that catches Childe’s eye as soon as soon as he arrives into town. The man that works inside is more exhilarating than any drink Childe has ever tasted. ✦ passing afternoon by bearbearer, childe/zhongli, NSFW, 1.3k      Zhongli just came, really. He just broke into his office with a white loose robe hanging from his shoulders, skin exposed like a gift, and two glasses of fine wine in his hands. There was a smile on his lovely red lips, while they moved around cloying words. “Are you amenable for a rest?” And everything was warm as he approached, because how could Zhongli not— He wouldn’t have a rest at all. ✦ the consultant’s kidnapping by glassdrachma, childe/zhongli & hu tao & cloud retainer & xiao & ganyu & keqing & cast, 19.2k      The Traveller isn’t able to stop Cloud Retainer from seeking revenge on Liyue Harbor. Zhongli is, however. Sort of. ✦ if i choose not to see it, it does not exist by inareese, childe/zhongli, 5.1k      Zhongli might as well have just straight up told Childe. He absolutely refuses to think too hard about it. or Tartaglia’s accidental guide to why Zhongli is most definitely a hundred percent not Rex Lapis. There is nothing suspicious to see here. ✦ A New Mission by Kuranoa, childe/zhongli, NSFW, 2.8k      “Sensei, have you ever bedded anyone?” Childe asks, chin resting on his hand while he observes the flawlessly elegant way Zhongli drinks from his teacup. “I have not.” The Archon answers just as frankly, not even batting a lash. “Would you like to?” ✦ Trial And Success by woahiohioh, childe/zhongli, NSFW, read the tags, 6.7k      Or: Childe asks Zhongli if he can tie him up and they both discover they’re into some things they didn’t know about beforehand. ✦ C.P.R. by silverid, childe/zhongli, NSFW, read the tags, 3.3k      It’s something straight out of Childe’s fantasies. “Don’t worry, xiansheng.” he chokes out. “I’ll show you.” Zhongli’s eyes go half-lidded. “Well then. Direct me.” GENSHIN IMPACT - LET ROCK GRANDPA’S FRIENDS BULLY HIM IT’LL BE SO FUNNY: ✦ rex lapis is totally undeniably dead! by arataka, zhongli & hu tao, 1.7k      when zhongli comes into her office and tells her, “rex lapis is dead” paired with the most serious face she’s ever seen him wear, hu tao laughs at him. GENSHIN IMPACT - YOU EVER LOVE SOMEONE SO MUCH YOU WANT TO PUNCH THEM IN THE FACE? YEAH THAT’S HAIKAVEH: ✦ handle with care by smallghosts, alhaitham/kaveh, 2.4k      Kaveh may be a thorn in Alhaitham’s side, but he’s his favorite one. ✦ Slip of the Tongue by LONEMOON, alhaitham/kaveh & cyno, NSFW, 9.6k      Kaveh is inflicted by a curse that makes him only able to tell the truth. For someone who’s fairly honest and wears his heart on his sleeve, this shouldn’t be a big deal, right? Unfortunately, he has some feelings he’d like to keep hidden… ✦ theory and practice by alcyonenight, alhaitham/kaveh, 3.9k      Kaveh falls ill. Alhaitham works through some things. ✦ too many nights by effervescentskies, alhaitham/kaveh, 4.8k      Kaveh keeps coming back home drunk in the middle of the night. Alhaitham is not pleased. ✦ itni khafa nahin by solarclimes, alhaitham/kaveh, 2.4k      Rtawahist scholars have a curious theory about parallel worlds, where the stars of a person’s constellation are weaved in slightly different ways, creating an infinite number of universes where they make different choices, lead different lives. He had told Al-Haitham about it once, who had declared it outlandish and based on pure conjecture, but Kaveh had found the idea interesting. Perhaps, then, there exists a world, where Kaveh’s life isn’t so at odds with him. Where Kaveh can reach out in this moment and pull Al-Haitham into his arms. ✦ inertia by smallghosts, alhaitham/kaveh, 3.6k      A drunken confession is all it takes to set the inertia of their non-relationship into motion. ✦ Opposites Attract by LavastormSW, alhaitham/kaveh, NSFW, 3k      Alhaitham returns home after a long day commentating on and wrapping up the Akademiya Extravaganza, only to find Kaveh waiting for him… ✦ truck, barter, and trade by Seungshi03, alhaitham/kaveh & wanderer & nahida, 13.3k      Or: Al-Haitham is, without a doubt, the most annoying person Kaveh knows. Maybe the world’s second-most annoying person can help Kaveh figure him out. ✦ I’ll keep your brittle heart warm by clouds_hide, alhaitham/kaveh & nilou & traveler, 3.2k      Or: The Inter-Darshan Championship brings out the problems they don’t talk about. They really need to talk. ✦ i’ve been loving you for quite some time, time, time by creativedisaster, alhaitham/haikaveh, NSFW, 4.7k      After spending the week talking about his plans to move out, Kaveh’s not entirely sure he can face dealing with Alhaitham now he’s staying. But the bad thing about living together - he has to go home sometime. - OR - Alhaitham has some truth for Kaveh that he might not be ready for. ✦ knocking is a wonderous invention by dearwormwood, alhaitham/kaveh & cyno/tighnari, 2.8k      Four times Tighnari and Cyno think they walk in on Alhaitham and Kaveh in compromising positions, and one time they actually do. ✦ sunbird by caniculeo, alhaitham/kaveh & cyno & tighnari & nilou & kaveh’s mother & cast, 19.1k      This is how Kaveh grows up—well-loved and loving, with a pencil in his hand and starlight in his eyes. This is how he grows up, until his father leaves for the desert one day, and never comes back. ✦ you put the ‘fun’ into dysfunction by emigmatic, alhaitham/kaveh, NSFW, 3.7k      His dream was not a dream. It was real. “Oh.” “Is that all you have to say? Oh?” Kaveh presses, but he relents after studying his junior for a moment. His eyebrows draw together and a slight frown takes up residence on his face. “You…why do you look so surprised that I want to talk about how we just had sex?” ✦ diesel is desire (you were playing with fire) by clouds_hide, alhaitham/kaveh & cyno, NSFW, 6.7k      Kaveh on his back, his blonde hair splayed across the white sheets, his entire chest flushed from arousal, is the most beautiful sight in the world. Even if Alhaitham lives through a thousand samsaras, he will never forget this. ✦ modus vivendi by katraa, alhaitham/kaveh, NSFW, 3.5k      Kaveh has a sprained wrist, his roommate is insufferable, and said roommate knows how to take someone’s mind off the pain. Or, they finally stop dancing around the subject and bang. ✦ That’s The Way I Loved You by rewmariewrites, alhaitham/kaveh & cyno & tighnari & cast, NSFW, 16.9k      Tighnari rolls his eyes and turns back to Kaveh. “You didn’t answer my question,” Tighnari says, like he thinks Kaveh is an idiot. Kaveh rolls his eyes right back. “No, we’re not dating.” ✦ argumentative, antithetical dream girl by clouds_hide, alhaitham/kaveh & cyno & tighnari, NSFW, 6.8k      Or: Kaveh attempts to have no-strings-attached sex with his roommate. There are so many strings attached, he might as well be a marionette. GENSHIN IMPACT - THAT ONE SCENE OF VENTI BEING AN ANNOYING BASTARD AT XIAO WAS ENOUGH TO CONVERT ME TO SHIPPING THEM: ✦ carried by the wind by underfallingflowerpetals, venti/xiao, 1.7k      Or: Xiao isn’t used to being taken care of, but Venti is nothing if not persistent.

[trollprincess]

So I think the Academy may have screwed over “Oppenheimer.”

Now I know what you’re thinking. “Wait, what are you talking about? Did you miss the Barbie snubs? Are you paying attention?” Yup, I’m totally paying attention. Let me explain.

This year’s crop of Best Picture nominees is very good. There’s not a one that doesn’t make me immediately flinch as to why it’s even there. There are some I might have added (“The Boy and the Heron” and “Across the Spider-verse” both deserve to be there, for example), but this is a good list. Not just by Academy standards, which can be questionable as hell, but by anyone’s standard.

Up until now, “Oppenheimer” has pretty much been a lock for this. It’s very well made, acted, directed, written, all of it. It’s good. It deserves it.

But. BUT.

Final voting is between February 22nd and 27th this year. So that’s an entire month of press and interviews and predictions and whatnot. And already the big story is not “Oppenheimer has 13 nominations.” It’s “Why the fuck weren’t Margot Robbie and Greta Gerwig nominated for best actress and best director for Barbie?!”

And the thing is, they DID get nominated - Margot for producing and Greta for writing. Which is not me dismissing the fact they *should* have gotten nominated for directing and acting. (Note: There will be no Ryan Gosling shaming in this house. He deserves his nomination. So does America Ferrera. This is not a case of “only the man got the nomination.” Don’t erase America’s well-deserved nomination.)

So back to Greta and Margot. The next few weeks are going to be the Hollywood media asking “Did the Academy fuck up?” about their nominations. Did they not get the point of the movie? How does one of the best movies of the year not get a nomination for it lead actress and female director? Did Oppenheimer only get so much attention riding on “Barbenheimer”’s coattails? (Monetarily, oh, yeah. Awards show-wise, no.) Like, today we’re talking about their snubs, but it’s not going to stop today. There’s going to be discourse and prediction discussion and “Annette Bening stole Margot’s nomination” bullshit probably.

Basically, the Academy accidentally made the fact it snubbed Margot and Greta the story, and not the fact three other movies got more nominations than “Barbie,” including the likely winner of Best Picture.

The next part depends on if Hollywood can feel guilt and shame. So, you know, it’s anybody’s guess. But directors only voted for directing nominees, and actors only voted for acting nominees. Everybody gets to vote for best film.

Now, here’s the thing. Even IF they got nominated for directing and acting, they wouldn’t have won. Actress is between Gladstone and Stone (I’m hoping for Gladstone), and Nolan probably already has an empty mantel spot prepared. They just wouldn’t have won, it’s just nice to be nominated, yadda yadda.

But the Oscars have this *thing* where sometimes it’s not so much you getting an award because *that performance* deserved it, but because YOU deserved it. Leonardo DiCaprio should have gotten an Oscar for “What’s Eating Gilbert Grape” and/or “Wolf of Wall Street,” they gave it to him for “The Revenant,” which isn’t as good as either previous role. Kate Winslet wins for “The Reader,” which if Best Acting By Kate Winslet were an Oscar category wouldn’t even make the list and would probably get beat by “Mare of Easttown,” which isn’t even a goddamn movie.

You’re an Oscar voter this year. It’s the end of February, and you’re looking at your ballot. And you’ve spent the past few weeks hearing about the Oscars fucked up. How Hollywood didn’t get the point of “Barbie.” How the Academy didn’t even nominate BARBIE for the fucking “Barbie” movie. And you might be thinking, “… I mean, we CAN still give them Oscars.”

Greta’s an easy choice. The Barbie script is incredible, and detailed and smart and funny. Greta already has Oscar nominations for writing. Adapting a book is one thing. Adapting sixty years of canon is a high achievement. I think this pretty much locked her screenplay win.

Margot is nominated for best producer. We’re going to spend the next four weeks seeing articles about just how much work Margot put into this movie. When Margot Robbie loves a project, she works her ASS off on it. And the work shows with Barbie. It’s a good goddamn movie, AND it made $1.4 billion dollars. As good as it was, “Oppenheimer” doesn’t make $955 million if “Barbenheimer” isn’t a thing. There’s an argument to be made that Margot deserves the producer nomination AND win MORE than the actress nomination, because as a producer she made TWO movies reach a billion at the box office, *and she had fuck all to do with one of them*.

So, yeah, I think the Academy might have fucked over “Oppenheimer.” Because for the next month, while people are debating what and who to vote for, all that right there? That’s going to be the discourse they’re sitting on right before voting for Best Picture.