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#i am buzzing now thank you anon
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I think I finally got through all those questions. Jesus Christ.
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pathologicalreid · 3 months
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hello my new favorite tumblr writer 😇 i will b honest i have never requested anything before so!! bear with me. however the spencer reid brainrot is all too real SO would you be open to doing anything with a hotchner!fem!reader? bau or not for the reader! something something hotch is very hesitant about their relationship but maybe reader gets caught in the crossfire of something and hotch and prentiss see them together afterward and prentiss is like “that looks pretty real to me.” DOES THAT MAKE ANY SENSE OKAY I’M LEAVING NOW THANK YOUUUU 🫡
a father's daughter | S.R.
in which your father doesn't approve of your relationship, but who knows how he'll react when reid jumps into action after a threat against your life
who? spencer reid x hotchner!fem!bau!reader category: angst content warnings: general cm violence, blood, stitches, hospitals, medical inaccuracy word count: 2.03k a/n: anon you are legendary. this is an incredible request and i am so honored to be your new favorite tumblr writer! i am an absolute sucker for anything hotchner!reader (or rossi!reader) so i absolutely ate this request up! (also if anyone wanted to drop a request in my inbox... it would be welcome)
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Aaron Hotchner was the most professional person in the BAU, except when it came to you. You, like him, had gone to law school. You were a public defender for just a short time before being put into WITSEC, and when your mother died, you applied to the FBI Academy.
Plain and short, it was nepotism, but no one was going to argue with the man whose wife was murdered by a serial killer. Your dad wanted you in the BAU so he could keep an eye on you, and there was nothing Erin Strauss could do about it. What your father couldn’t control, was your relationship with Reid.
He could tell you that he didn’t approve, but so long as David Rossi, king of inter-bureau mingling, was around, he couldn’t actually do anything to stop you. “I’m just saying that I’ve never seen Reid be consistent with a relationship,” your dad said, having pulled you away from the team to, once again, try to warn you off of your relationship.
“He’s been pretty consistent for the last seven months,” you responded, rifling through the victims' files that were in your arms.
You started to make your way out of the empty office when your father spoke again, “And he’s too old for you.”
Stopping in your tracks, you pivoted and faced your father, “He’s three years older than I am, I’m twenty-six. That’s hardly an age gap to bat an eye at.” The two of you had always had a rocky relationship, he missed a large portion of your childhood due to this job and you always tried to not resent him for it.
Your parents’ marriage fell apart, neither of them handled it well, and you weren’t all that surprised. They had gotten married when your mom got pregnant with you because they thought that was what they were supposed to do, and when Jack couldn’t keep them together, everything fell apart.
“You have no right to lecture me on relationships, Agent Hotchner,” you snapped, staring him down. Daring him to challenge you.
He sighed, obviously trying not to lose his patience with you. “I’d just hate for you to find out you wasted your time on something that wasn’t real.”
The door behind you swung open, you spun on your heels to face Emily. “Sorry, uh, we have a location, Morgan’s coordinating with SWAT,” she said, looking between you and your father.
“Great, let’s go,” your father said, his parental demeanor falling away as his Unit Chief mask took its place.
You walked out the door to see the rest of the team, Rossi tossed you a Kevlar vest as you walked over to where Spencer was standing with the police chief, “Where are we headed?” You asked, undoing the Velcro on the vest and pulling it over your torso. The beige precinct was buzzing as agents and officers prepared to break into the UnSub’s home base. Hopefully to find his most recent victim still alive.
Reid reached over and adjusted the strap of your vest, making sure it was evenly tightened over your shoulders. “Garcia found a warehouse on the other side of town. It’s being rented out under an anagram of the first victim’s name,” he said, gently squeezing your arm before dropping his hands back to his side.
Nodding, you followed the rest of the team out the metal doors of the precinct and into the black SUVs. “Your UnSub’s name is Jonas Watts, he used a different name to rent the space but the account he uses to pay for it is under his name,” Garcia’s voice rang through the speaker as she told you about the perpetrator. “He checks every UnSub box we have, raised by a single father after his mother left, and… oh, multiple arrests for assault.”
You looked up to the driver’s seat, your dad was white-knuckling the steering wheel, entirely focused on driving as you listened to Garcia reciting the UnSub’s rap sheet.
When you arrived at the warehouse SWAT was already there and Morgan started organizing the tactical assault. Drawing your weapon, you nodded at your teammate when he instructed you to go around the back with himself and your father. Allowing Morgan to kick the door down, the three of you held your firearms up and began clearing the warehouse.
Further away, you heard Emily and Spencer clearing the front. “Clear, moving up,” you called into your radio as you approached the stairs, stepping on them carefully so they didn’t creak. On the landing, you looked at a trail of blood on the ground. “There’s a blood trail in the upper west wing,” you whispered.
“Move up, little Hotch, I’m right behind you,” Morgan responded.
Rolling your eyes at the nickname, one that you had begged him to stop using, you moved forward, keeping your firearm aimed right in front of you. Turning into the room that the blood trail led to, you immediately ducked when you saw a knife coming for you. Keeping your gun aimed, you faced down the UnSub, “Jonas Watts, FBI!” You announced yourself, scanning the room for the girl he took last night.
Watts shook his head, “You’re not supposed to be here! You can’t be here!” He shouted in distress.
“Where’s the girl, Jonas? Where did you take Isobel?” You asked him, not seeing her in the room the two of you were in. There was another entrance on the left of him.
He stepped toward you, and you cocked your gun, “I don’t have her now. I lost her, she’s lost,” he said, there was a hint of uncertainty in his voice.
Unnerved, you decided to take a leap of faith, “Jonas, where’s your partner?” A partner hadn’t been part of the profile, but the more you thought about it, the more it made sense. The crimes were too complex, it didn’t match up with something as simple as using an anagram of a victim’s name for the warehouse rental.
Morgan filed in behind you, aiming his gun at Jonas, same as you. “Time’s running out, Jonas. If you tell us about your partner we can help you,” he said, slowly inching toward Watts.
“It’s too late,” Jonas wailed.
Someone knocked into you from behind, causing you to stumble forward before you were pulled to your feet. One arm was locked around your torso, and another was holding a knife to your throat. “If you don’t leave now, I’ll cut her fucking throat!” The unnamed man said from behind you, he was almost impossibly tall, easily overpowering you.
You didn’t dare move, not with that knife to your throat, one false move and you’d bleed out. Morgan shouted for him to let you go, but he just pressed the knife tighter to your neck, splitting the skin.
Shutting your eyes, you tried not to cry, fearing the damage it would do to your throat.
Your captor held you tightly to him, using your body to block Morgan from shooting. Something warm trickled down your collarbone, and you weren’t sure if it was blood or tears.
For a moment, you thought you could swing your foot back into his knee, but the fear of having your carotid cut outweighed your bravery.
Ever since you were a kid, you thought death would be quiet. Something you slipped into like sleep, but your death was loud, and it left your ears ringing.
The afterlife was the weirdest place you’ve ever been, someone was calling your name, and you heard your rights being read. Although, why you would need your Miranda Rights in the afterlife you had no idea.
“Angel, please open your eyes,” someone said.
Confused, you opened your eyes and saw familiar eyes staring down at you. Golden and bleary. Spencer, Spencer was here. You tried to sit up, but he held you down, keeping a hand on your throat.
Morgan was shouting for medical, saying there was an agent down. You turned your head to see the still unidentified UnSub on the ground, shot through the temple. Using his free hand to turn your chin, “Don’t look,” Spencer whispered. “You’re okay, I’ve got you. I’m not going to let anything happen to you, angel.”
If you weren’t still coming down from an adrenaline high, you might’ve smiled at the irony of the nickname. Being called ‘angel’ after having your neck cut felt like tempting fate.
Where was your dad? Of everyone here, you expected him to be here, barking orders at people.
As if summoned by your thoughts, your dad appeared, nearly hauling an EMT behind him, “Help her,” he said.
Yeah, that absolutely tracked.
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The EMT’s packed your wound and assured everyone that your carotid had not been slit, against your protests, the ambulance brought you to the hospital for stitches. Emily had run to the hotel to get your go bag, allowing you to change out of your bloodied clothes.
Thankfully, the doctors said you didn’t need to stay overnight, meaning you and the team got to go home. “How are you feeling?” Spencer asked while you were waiting to board the jet.
You hummed, pulling your sunglasses over your eyes, and leaning against a car, “Tired, but I’m alright.” Tired might have been underselling it, you felt like all of the energy had been physically drained from your body. “You worry too much,” you whispered, closing your eyes for just a moment. Your throat was a little raspy, but it should go back to normal after a couple of days.
“Your throat was cut about four hours ago, some might say I’m not worrying enough,” he responded, reaching down, and picking up your bag, carrying it over to the jet once they got the okay to board. On the jet, he gestured to the seat, “Lay down, get some rest.”
You furrowed your brows, “Isn’t it kind of frowned upon to take up a whole seat?” You asked, of course, sometimes it happened, but you didn’t want to take up too much space.
Spencer cocked his head at you, “I don’t think anyone is going to fight you on it, love.”
Taking a deep breath, you sat down on the seat, laying down and closing your eyes, falling asleep before you even left the tarmac.
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Being the Unit Chief had its perks, surely, but the piles of paperwork sometimes felt never-ending. Aaron took a deep breath before he closed the file, Rossi sat across from him, nursing a glass of whiskey.
“Hey,” Prentiss whispered, taking the seat next to him and setting her glass of water down on the small table. “Do you see that?” She said, gesturing with her head toward where you were lying down, asleep.
Right next to you was Reid, who usually had his nose buried in a book at this point in a flight, but he was wide awake, and all of his focus seemed to be on you. Begrudgingly, Hotch watched as Spencer reached over and tucked a blanket around you as if he was afraid you’d freeze on the temperature-controlled jet. “What about it?” Hotch asked, reaching over for the next file.
His eyes flicked up again, Spencer was sitting on the floor of the jet. Everyone had elected to leave the couch seats for the two of you, but the one across the aisle from you was empty. Like Reid didn’t even want you to be any more than one foot away from him.
Leaning back in the chair, Emily shook her head, “That’s what we in the business call hypervigilance.”
Hotch didn’t respond, he just spared another glance over at the two of you. “’We in the business’?” He inquired, humoring Prentiss.
“I’m just saying… the hovering? The blanket? I don’t know about you, but that looks pretty real to me,” she said, leaning back in the leather seat.
Silently, he glared, it would seem his hopes of getting the team to stop eavesdropping on familial conversations were quashed.
“Just let the kids be, Aaron,” Rossi said, grinning into his glass.
He cleared his throat and flipped open the new file before he acquiesced, “Fine, for now.”
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please reblog, like, and/or comment if you enjoyed 🩵
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sillysowa · 9 months
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I LOVE YOUR WRITING SM OML 🫶🏻🫶🏻
Would you be comfortable with writing a hobie x femreader where Hobie walks in on reader pleasing herself. The rest is up to you
THANK YOU ANON!🫶 Absolutely! Here you go~
NEED A HAND?
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PAIRING: HOBIE BROWN X FEM!READER
GENRE: SMUT, FLUFF, ENEMIES TO LOVERS?
WORD COUNT: 2.4K
WARNINGS: MASTURBATION, VAGINAL FINGERING, CUNNILINGUS, VAGINAL SEX, DEGRADATION + PRAISE, SPITTING, ‘ANGRY SEX,’ FLUFFY AT THE END
AUTHORS NOTE: I DECIDED TO GO WITH A DYNAMIC WHERE HOBIE AND READER HAVE A COMPETITIVE RELATIONSHIP IN HQ, BUT THEY WANT EACHOTHER
SYNOPSIS: HOBIE WALKS IN ON YOU TOUCHING YOURSELF WHILE MOANING HIS NAME—DIDN’T YOU SAY YOU HATED HIM?
“Hobie fucking Brown with his stupid fucking voice, and his freakishly long fingers! His…his annoying smirk, and his obnoxious fucking style, god!” You groan, stripping out of your clothes furiously and staring down at your underwear—You were wet, actually fucking horny because Hobie decided today was a good day to test your limits. He didn’t do anything necessarily crazy, he just sat right next to you, manspreading with his leg pressed against yours, slinging his arm around your shoulder and placing his hand on your inner thigh when he got up to leave, whispering a deep,
“Y’look absolutely ravishing today.” In your ear like it was no big deal! Who the fuck does that? You’ve both always been sort of competitive with eachother on missions, personalities clashing when you work together. He likes to throw half-mean-half-flirty remarks at you and you like to shut it down. That’s how it goes—but today? Straight up flirting? You couldn’t handle it. You instantly got on your bed and pulled your rose toy out of your night stand, turning it on and spreading your legs.
You felt a little ashamed of yourself, but the moment you felt those sweet vibrations on your clit it all just melted away and thoughts of Hobie between your legs clouded your vision, your heart racing and your skin dampening,
“Fuckkk~” You groan, throwing your head back and panting at the feeling, “Yes, Hobie. Eat my fucking pussy, fuck~” Your moans get louder, the sensations on your most vulnerable spot making you writhe. You can’t stop thinking of Hobie. You think of his face and how good he’d look naked on top you—or his tongue deep inside you after whispering pure filth in your ear, or his piercings and how good they’d feel on your folds—you think of it all, your eyes clamping shut and your free hand hiking your leg up higher by the back of your knee. Your pussy clenched around nothing, your mouth opening as you moan,
“Fuck me, Hobie...”
“Am I interrupting—?”
You cut him off with a gasp, scrambling to clamp your legs shut and cover your breasts. Your mind raced…
What. The. Fuck.
Hobie is standing in a portal in front of your bed, walking through it smugly with his hands in his pockets. He looks shocked, but he’s doing a decent job of remaining calm and collected. You on the other hand…you don’t know how to explain anything, your vibrator still buzzing on your bed and covered in your juices,
“Well isn’t this’a sight f’sore eyes…?” He chuckles, “Here I was thinking you hated my bloody guts but now look at ya…all hot and bothered. Did my teasin’ earlier make your pretty pussy wet? Y’look pretty frustrated y’know, need a hand?” He smirks, slowly removing his guitar and vest. He looks incredibly tall in your room, towering over you on your bed and as he slowly removes his clothes. You finally muster up to the courage to speak,
“What the fuck are you doing in here?” You ask, your pussy throbbing at the sight of his toned and smooth skin, his abs and v-line exposed for your hungry eyes to swallow like prey. You genuinely can’t believe what’s happening right now but even worse you can’t believe how much you’re liking it! You literally can’t tear your gaze off of him as he strip-teases for you. You knew you couldn’t fuck him…you work with him! You’re one of Headquarters best and here you were, horny and desperate for a delinquent anarchist…but good god his dick was massive!
He pulled his boxers down and what had to be just shy of ten inches of rock hard dick popped out, springing up just for you. Your mouth gaped open and you shamelessly stared,
“Texted you to tell you there was a change’a plans in tomorrows mission but you weren’t respondin’ so I figured i’d just stop by and tell ya—never knew you’d be flicking the bean and moaning out my name.” He smirks devilishly, coming towards the edge of your bed. He knows you want this by the look in your eyes and the way you let your legs fall open, but he needs to be sure,
“May I?” His voice comes out in a special deep kind of way that you’ve never heard before and your pussy clenches, your spidey senses going wild. You know he feels it cause one of his eyes squints, the strong feeling tugging at his senses, and he smirks when you whine,
“Fuck, yes, p-please just—“
“Shhh relax love, i’ve got you.” Hobie whispers, crawling on top of you and roughly spreading your thighs with a grunt, planting a kiss right on your sensitive clit. He pauses for a moment, locking eyes with you before sucking on it like a lollipop. Your eyes roll into the back of your head and your hands twitch, the feeling making you shake,
“O-Oh fuck…Hobie, y-you suck at this.” You lie through your needy sounds, your hands reaching towards his head and thrusting his face deeper against you, the slightly shocked look in his eyes fueling your need and making you feel like you were in charge for a moment. Hobie pops off of you with ease despite your strength, and he web shoots your wrists above your head in a matter of seconds,
“Since y’were begging f’me, I think i’ll just take control, yeah?” Hobie smirks, his lips latched onto your clit instantly, kissing and slurping on it sensually—delivering you the most pleasure you had ever felt.
“Y-you’re, mmf!- such an ass, Hobie~” The room felt hot and your skin felt sticky, his teasing gaze at your words making your pussy gush. You tried to fight back the moans, panting and squirming at his every touch. Hobie wanted to hear you. He slapped your thigh, a yelp escaping from your lips as he slurped you up like you were his last meal. He got all kinds of revved up from your pettiness, rutting his dick into the sheets as he proved to you that not even you knew your body like this,
“You like that don’tcha love?” Hobie growls into your pussy as he does absolutely sinful things with his tongue, things that you didn’t know were possible—the moans were becoming so hard to bite back. You whimpered, your hips bucking against his nose and tongue. Hobie felt the way you pulsated and when he looked at you and saw your eyebrows furrowed the way they were, he knew you were close,
“Give it to me, Y/N, I want it all.” He groans, his tongue working like a machine on your clit, steady rapid pace flicking it just the way you needed to cum all over his face, squirting like you never have before. Your back arched and you tried to hide your face by turning, embarrassed at how fast you came from just Hobie’s tongue. You knew he’d get a kick out of it, and sure enough,
“That good love? Couldn’t have even been more than 5 minutes.” He laughs but he kisses your thighs, licks up the mess, and then reaches for your face. You were surprised when his hands came to your jaw and he looked into your eyes—He kind of looked like he was going to kiss you.
That was when you felt his tip at your entrance, prodding and pushing in. You couldn’t even try to keep quiet, and you could look away as he held your face and his half lidded eyes bored into yours. It was sadistic, that look he gave you while your eyes widened and watered, your lips parting as pained moans spill from your lips—he was huge and he knew it.
“How’s that feel, doll?” He whispers, eyes never leaning yours as he thrusts himself all the way inside your tight cunt. You’re so wet that he doesn’t even have to try to move, his dick ramming inside you like a piston. In contrast, he gently smooths his thumbs over the balls of your cheeks, watching every expression that strikes your features,
“Y-You’re too big—“ You moan, your eyelids twitching and fluttering as your body turns to jelly. You had never felt something so filling in your whole life…of course Hobie had to have the biggest dick you’d ever felt…there was no sly remark you could possibly throw at him when you were breathless just from the first couple of thrusts,
“You’re taking it so well though, hm? Such a good girl.” Hobie groans, sliding his hands down your body and kissing your neck while he grips your hips, “You feel so fucking good. You’re so dirty touching yourself at the thought of me and spreading your legs like a whore at the sight’v my dick,” He grunts out through his moans, thrusting into you and making your whole bed shake. You physically can’t handle the praise and degradation that he throws at you all at once,
“H-Hobie…you’re so fucking annoying!”
“Oh yeah? I’m annoying? Well you’re sobbing on my dick right now, not a good look is it, love?”
You can’t even think as Hobie pulls almost entirely out of you before thrusting into you full speed, leaving you choking on your breaths for a moment. He looks right into your eyes, repeating the same rhythm and smirking at your needy sounds—the way you can’t help but cry out in pleasure each and every time,
“What was that?” He asks, mock pity in his voice, “Too fucked out to answer hm?”
You tug at your restrains, pleasured tears spilling from your eyes as your turn your head, moans tearing out of your throat,
“I-Mmm~ Fuck…Hobie!~ I-I hate you!”
At this, Hobie just comically tilts his head. He knows you don’t hate him, the way your heart beats out of your chest and your ankles lock around his back as he fucks you—even the way you tease him or yell at him—it’s full of want and need…desire even. His pace never relents as he massages your hips, his deep voice making your heart drop,
“Look at me.”
You don’t. You feel embarrassed at how easily he’s gotten you into this submissive state when you’re one of the strongest people at HQ. You just moan and cry, grunting in frustration with every drag of his dick deep inside you,
“Y/N, look at me.” Hobie says in a sultry tone, voice filled with lust. You feel his chill hand creep up to your jaw, refocusing your gaze on him as he snaps into you at a brutal pace, hitting your sweet spot and making your pussy drip. When your eyes lock on his, he looks absolutely irresistible. There’s a sheen layer of sweat clinging to every inch of his skin, and there’s a glow to his features that you had always seen but never like this. You just want him. You have him but you need him. You need him and he needs you, the hand on your jaw tightening as he brings his thumb up to your lips, pulling your lips open. Hobie leans down, thrusting into you and making your bed creak as he spits right onto your tongue. It stuns you like a slap on the face, but it turns you on like nothing before. Your pussy clenches impossibly tighter around Hobie and you swallow his spit, groaning gutturally,
“You’re so fucking nasty.” He groans at the sight, pressing your knees down beside you and thrusting into you with fervor,
“You’re no better.” Is all you say, trying to sound steady even though you’re a mess for him. You’re digging your nails into his back and dragging them down his smooth skin, begging him to go faster as your body convulses. You’re both breathless in passion, too scared to admit that this was more than just sex. You want each other in a debilitating way, in a way so strong that it scares you—so you fuck like crazed animals and chase your release together.
Hobie’s ears tingle at the sound of your moans increasing in pitch and volume, his senses ablaze with the feeling of your warm hands on his back and the sight of your intoxicated gaze. He looks down at you as you throw your hands around his neck and spill pretty noises from your parted lips. Hobie doesn’t know what comes over him but as he nears his orgasm, he leans down slowly, closing the gap between the two of you. There’s no excuse ready in his mind when he sees your eyes flicker from his lips to his eyes and back, knowing that you want him as much as he wants you.
“Hobie?” You ask, voice full of need and confusion. You’re feeling desperate, on the edge from him so deep inside you, the pleasure building and your head spinning—but now…now he looks like he’s going to kiss you and that scares you. Not because you don’t want it but because you do. Your heart races as one of his hands finds its way behind your head and the other under your jaw.
“I want to kiss you...I-I really want to kiss you.” His words come out huskily, and his gaze softens as he’s about to cum.
You say nothing. You just hold him in the same endearing way and close the gap, pressing your lips against his gently—a juxtaposition to how his hips desperately ram against yours as you both cum, moaning into the kiss and desperately trying to taste each other, afraid of what comes when the moment is over. Hobie’s eyebrows furrow and he struggles to kiss back, releasing himself inside you before he pulls you up and into his lap, still deep inside. Your naked bodies are moving in tandem—lust, need, hunger, desire, desperation, fear, and love. When you finally break the kiss, you’re both breathless. He looks into your eyes and you look into his. You want nothing more than to shy away from him answering to never have to speak of this…but you both know there’s no going back now. He gently strokes your back, his hold on you secure and comforting. He tore your walls down and destroyed you, and now you’re completely on display for him. It doesn’t feel bad…it feels surprisingly natural to be with him like this.
He holds you close, his chin on your head. You feel the deep vibrations on his vocal cords in his chest as he speaks, “You don’t actually hate me do you?” He chuckles.
“No.” You quickly say, mumbling with your cheek pressed against him, “I think we both knew that though, Hobie.”
@ohxx @luxxtuxx @fatenpara
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puckinghischier · 6 days
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Surprise…?
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Luke Hughes x fem!reader
summary: anon request for luke getting hurt during a game
notes: y’all i think i struggle writing luke for some reason. i just never seem to really like what i write when i write for him. wtf am i doing wrong 😩
[3.3k]
~
There weren’t many times you regretted moving to Jersey, but right now was one of them. The constant traffic within the city wasn’t something that usually got under your skin, but today it was the absolute bane of your existence. Of course, you were in a hurry. A big one. You had approximately thirty minutes until puck drop, and you needed to get there before that puck hit that ice. No exceptions. You hadn’t told Luke what you were doing, so he probably already expected you to be there, wondering why you’re not in your usual seat for warm-ups.
As if he could hear your thoughts, your phone buzzed with a message from Luke, not being able to read what it said while trying to weave in and out of traffic.
“Quinn, can you see what Luke just sent. And then tell him I’m on my way. I don’t want him worrying that I’m not showing tonight,” you ask the Hughes brother currently in your passenger seat.
Quinn grabbed your phone from the cupholder, listening to you rattle off your passcode so he can open Luke’s message.
“He asked where you were, and if you were already there. Wanted to know why you weren’t in your seat for warm ups,” Quinn confirms your thoughts, looking to you for an answer.
“Tell him I’m just running late. Be there before puck drop. And tell him I love him and good luck.”
You hear the sound of Quinn typing your reply as you increase your speed, cursing the people who want to drive below the speed limit in the fast lane. This is what you get for trying to be a good girlfriend and surprise your boyfriend and his brother. You get stuck on the road with New Jersey’s worst drivers.
In your defense, you were supposed to already be safely at the arena in your seats, but Quinn’s airline had different plans. His flight being delayed by three hours gave you barely enough time to run and grab him from the airport and make it back to the Rock before the hockey game started. The only thing saving your ass right now is the fact that if you can just get there, you can go through the player entrance and avoid the crowds trying to get in at the last minute.
“If you don’t calm down and drive like a sane person, we’re never going to get there. We’ll be squashed on the side of the road,” Quinn scolds you, grasping what your dad always called the ‘oh shit’ handles.
“If I can just get around these idiots in front of me we’ll be fine. We’re almost at our exit, then I just have to pull around back and we’re in,” you tell him, once again pressing the gas pedal a little harder.
Quinn stays silent the rest of the drive, closing his eyes once you start speeding around the other cars on the freeway, finally getting to the right exit and rushing to the underground parking that the players always park in. You pull your car into the spot next to Jack’s car, barely even turning the car off before you’re jumping out and sprinting to the entrance.
“C’mon, Quinn! I know you can move faster than that! We only have a few minutes! Move it!” You yell over your shoulder, Quinn barely having gotten out of the car.
“Remind me to never let you drive ever again,” is all he says as he catches up to you, looking a little greener than before.
The two of you make it inside the arena with no issues, sprinting to your seats just as the national anthem finishes, both teams sending their starting lines out on the ice.
You had managed to snag Quinn a seat next to you, asking the team’s manager for a favor to help surprise their rookie defenseman. With no hesitation, he handed you a ticket and a locker room pass for Quinn, knowing how homesick Luke had been lately. You had thanked him a million times, asking him to keep it a secret from both Jack and Luke, not wanting either one of them to know until the day of. He gave you his word, and was also the reason you were given access to the player parking for the night, not wanting Quinn to be ambushed by fans going through the regular entrance.
You felt your heart rate start to slow once you were both situated in your seats, glad that you had made it in time. Neither Jack nor Luke had looked over and noticed you yet, wondering if they were going to clock Quinn before they took their stances on the ice.
Your question was soon answered as Jack looked back and saw you, waving and turning to get Luke’s attention before he did a double take, noticing the brunette sitting to you left. Quinn gave a small wave, flashing his younger brother a smile as you watched Jack’s eyes widen, mouth curving into beaming smile. Luke had turned back, looking in your direction, a relieved smile on his face once he noticed you were finally in your spot, eyes too focused on your figure to notice Quinn’s next to you. It wasn’t until he looked over at Jack and followed his gaze that he finally noticed his oldest brother in the crowd, a Devil’s hat on his head.
Luke’s eyes flicked over to you once again, mouthing ‘what the fuck?’ to you, your only response a shrug of the shoulders and a smirk on your face.
The two brothers quickly focused their attention to the officials on the ice, lowered into their stances, waiting for the puck to drop onto the ice.
“You know they’re going to compete now, right?” Quinn says as he elbows you to get your attention.
“Why would they compete? They’re literally playing for the same team. It doesn’t matter who scores as long as the team wins,” you respond, confused at Quinn’s words.
“It matters now. They do the same thing when mom or dad come to watch them. They want the praise. They want to be able to out perform the other so they can brag about it to me after the game,” Quinn clarifies.
“I don’t know about that. Jack’s been good about trying to set Luke up for success all year, I think they’ll surprise you.”
Quinn gives you a skeptical look, not believing your words, but lets it go otherwise; his attention quickly stolen by the sound of the puck hitting the ice, followed by clashing sticks and skates scraping against the frozen floor.
Much to your surprise, Quinn proved to be right. All throughout the first period, the two brothers fought to get the puck, sometimes even fighting against one another. You noticed the odd looks from their teammates, Nico even skating over to Jack during a tv timeout to ask him what was up, not having seen the pair act like this before. You kept throwing glares at Luke, trying to tell him to knock it off, that they’re playing for the same team, but he wouldn’t look at you for more than a few seconds at a time.
As the second period started, the competition between Jack and Luke had nearly ceased to exist. You assumed they got their asses chewed in the locker room during the intermission, noting how their coach seemed to watch them like a hawk. Once the brothers started actually playing together instead of against one another, the Devil’s were scoring goals left and right, putting up four goals before the end of the second period, one Luke’s and two being Jack’s.
With only three minutes left in the second period, Luke was attempting to get possession of the puck from behind the net, fighting two of the opposing players for the black piece of rubber. He lost control of the puck, and in a moment of frustration, pushed one of the enemy players in the back, wanting out of the sandwich they had put him in. The player he pushed fell forward onto the ice, drawing a penalty on Luke. The official had blown the whistle, stopping gameplay, when Luke looked over at him, frustrated at the call.
What Luke didn’t see was the player who had gotten the puck come skating up behind him at full speed, pushing Luke so hard his skates came out from under him, causing him to land on the ice on his back. He was angled just enough, though, that his body slid at high speed straight into the bottom of the wall a few feet away, head bouncing off the boards along the ice.
You were on your feet immediately, hands flying to the glass in front of you, begging for him to get up. Quinn jumped to his feet next to you, placing a hand on your shoulder, whether to comfort you or himself, you don’t know. Jack leaves his spot on the bench to skate over to his brother, falling to his knees on the ice, hovering above Luke.
Luke hadn’t moved yet. Not a foot twitch, a roll over in pain, or a thumbs up to let anyone know he’s okay. He’s laying lifeless on the ice, trainers calling his name, careful not to touch his head or neck. Your hand flies to cover your mouth, a sob making its way out of you when you noticed the stretcher being put on stand-by near the tunnel. Everything feels like it’s in slow motion, time stopped as Luke continues to lay, unmoving. Quinn tries to move you back from the glass, averting your attention from the scene in front of you, but your eyes are glued to Luke’s body.
You thought you imagined the twitch of his foot, thinking it was where the medics were tapping his leg, trying to coax him awake. When you finally see his body try to roll over, you let out the breath that you didn’t even know you were holding. Your relief was short-lived, however, when you hear the scream that makes its way out of Luke’s throat. You’re not sure which one hurt worse, him lying there not moving or the scream of agony that’s currently echoing through the arena.
Your knees start to give out, eyes blurring from the tears falling down your face. Quinn catches you as you slide down the glass, holding your sobbing figure in a crouched position.
“Quinn, gotta go. Gotta go, locker rooms,” you manage to say between sobs, trying to stand and make your way out of the stands.
“Okay, yeah, let’s go. Let’s get you out of here.”
The fans watch as Quinn guides you out of your seats and up the stairs. Most of them familiar with you, you and Luke not being super private with your relationship. A lot of them are still shouting obscenities at the player who went after Luke, demanding he be suspended. Some of them give you sad smiles as you pass, hoping your rookie is okay.
You finally reach the entrance to the training room, knowing this is where they’ll have taken him before they decide if he needs a hospital or not. You can hear them in there talking to him, unsure if you should enter yet or wait on someone to come out and get you. You stand at the doors, staring into space, when Quinn decides to speak up.
“He’s gonna be fine, Y/N. Probably a gnarly bruise, and likely a concussion, but it could’ve been worse. I know its scary, but I promise, he’s going to be okay. Might not even miss more than a game or two.”
All you can do is nod at the words, unable to do much else at the moment. You try to give a small smile, but you think it comes across as more of a grimace. You turn your head when you hear the door to the training room opens, revealing one of the team trainers.
“Oh, good, you’re already down here. He’s asking for you. Wants you to know he’s awake and okay. Nothing’s broken, just banged up and a mild concussion. Probably going to have him follow up with a doctor tomorrow, but for now he just needs rest. You can go ahead and go in. He won’t be playing the rest of the night,” the man in front of you finishes, stepping aside so you can walk through the open door.
You turn back to look at Quinn, seeing if he’s going to come with you.
“I’ll just give you two a minute first. Go ahead, I’ll be right behind you,” he tells you, wanting a minute to process his own emotions before seeing his baby brother.
You nod and turn to walk into the training room, following the trainer down a short hallway before turning the corner into a room with three different treatment tables, Luke’s long body taking up the farthest one. His head is laying back on a pillow, a large ice pack taped to his right shoulder. His gear is laying in a pile on the floor next to him, completely bare from the waist up. As you get closer, you can see the already purple skin forming in the exposed parts of his shoulder and upper arm. You gasp quietly at the bruised skin, causing Luke’s head to snap up at the sound.
“Hey, pretty girl,” he rasps out, voice raw from his screams earlier.
You stop on the side of the bed opposite to his injury, unable to say anything yet. Tears still streaming down your face, looking him over for any other signs of injury.
“Hey, no need to cry, angel. I’m okay, see. Just a little bruise. Nothing to be worried about. You should see the other guy,” he tries to joke, being told he left a dent in the wall where he hit.
You glare at him through your tears, unhappy with his weak attempt at joke.
“Okay, yeah, maybe not the time to joke just yet,” he brings the hand on his good arm up to rub the back of his neck, looking away from your tear-stained face.
“You were unconscious, Luke…you weren’t moving,” is all you managed, staring at his injured shoulder.
“I know, baby, I know. But I’m awake now, see?” he gestures towards his body with his good arm. “I’m just fine. Yapping ability unaffected,” he once again tries to bring a smile to your face, this time it almost works.
“God, Luke, if you could’ve heard the scream you let out. It was the worst sound I’ve ever heard in my life. I thought my heart was going to rip in two right there on the spot. I don’t ever want to hear the sound again,” you finally look at his face, noting the small cut on his forehead, you assume from his helmet.
“Y/N, I’m so sorry you had to witness all of it. I can’t imagine how it must’ve looked. If the roles were reversed, I don’t think I would have been able to keep myself from trying to climb over the glass to get to you. But I promise, sweetheart, I’m fine. Told me as long as my head’s fine I should only have to miss two games to let the bruise run its course,” he grabs your hand, rubbing small circles with his thumb.
“It was just so scary, Luke,” you sniffle, closing your eyes for a brief moment. You finally start to calm down now that his hand is in yours.
“I know. But now you get to play doctor and take care of me for a few days. Kiss all my boo boo’s better,” Luke wiggles his eyebrows at you, finally earning that laugh he’s been trying to get out of you since you walked in.
“That was probably one of the ickiest things you’ve ever said to me,” you laugh with Luke, fake gagging for dramatic effect.
Luke opens his mouth to say something else, but the the doors to the training room open, cutting him off. The familiar sound of skates against the floor making their way towards the two of you. Jack turns the corner, a frantic look in his eyes until he lands on Luke, awake and sitting up.
“I’m going to kill you for scaring me like that,” Jack points a finger, glaring at his younger brother. “I mean, why the fuck did you hit him, Luke! What were you thinking? You know how these guys are, they’re begging for any excuse to fight! They don’t care if you’re a 20 something rookie, they’re gonna hit back, dumbass!” Jack yells at Luke, throwing his arms around in frustration.
Luke winces at the volume of Jack’s voice, his ears sensitive to loud noises right now. Before you can get the words out to tell Jack to be quieter, Quinn enters the room and does it for you.
“Jack, be quiet for fuck’s sake. He has a concussion; you yelling at him is only going to make it worse. Yell at him later.”
“Well, it was stupid, Q. What he did was stupid,” Jack says in a normal tone of voice, still angry.  
“Don’t act like you’ve never done anything stupid on the ice before. Just because you never get caught when you hit people doesn’t mean you don’t do it,” Quinn walks over to stand beside Jack at the end of the table.
“You good, Moose? Looked pretty nasty out there from where I was sitting. Scared us, man,” Quinn asks Luke, tapping him on the foot. You note the redness of Quinn’s eyes, knowing how much he cares for both of his brothers. The whole situation shook him up, too, you were just too worried about Luke to notice at the time.
“Yeah, m’alright. Head hurts. Shoulder feels like it’s been run over by the ‘boni, but other than that I got off pretty clean. Nothing’s broken. Have to miss two games at least, more if my head ain’t right,” Luke answers Quinn, moving his hand so he can thread his fingers through yours.
“Your head’s never been right, Moose,” Jack says, causing Luke to roll his eyes.
Quinn leans over to bump his shoulder into Jack’s, shaking his head, unimpressed with his joke.
“Wait,” Luke starts, causing everyone to look up at him. “Are we just not going to address the fact that Quinn randomly showed up to the game tonight?”
“Yeah, how did you get here. Shouldn’t you be in Vancouver right now?” Jack adds, looking over at his older brother suspiciously.
Quinn looks over to you, causing the other two Hughes to shift their gaze your way.
“Surprise?” you say as a question, not knowing what to do with all the eyes in the room on you.
“You did this?” You look over at Luke, still nearly eye level with him, even as he’s propped up on the table beside you.
“Well, I know you’ve been struggling with adjusting to life here lately, and you were feeling pretty homesick, so I figured it would be nice for you to have both of your brothers in Jersey for a night or two,” you shrug your shoulders, not seeing the big deal with your actions.
“Tried to get your parents here, too, but they couldn’t leave work right now. They sent their love and apologies, though. Promised me they’d be at a game as soon as they could,” you added, wishing you could’ve had all the Hughes here tonight.
“I….I don’t know what to say,” Luke looks at you, so much affection in his eyes it makes you squirm.
“Well, a thank you would be a nice start,” you joke.
“Thank you. I love you. So much. If I could lean over to kiss you right now I would,” Luke brings your hand up to his mouth, placing a kiss on the back of your hand clasped in his.
“Please, for the love of god, don’t make me witness anything else painful tonight,” Jack interrupts the moment, earning a slap to the back of the head from Quinn.
“Don’t you have a game to go finish, jackass?”
“Oh, shit, yeah,” Jack jumps, forgetting about the last period that’s about to start. “See you at home, Moose, Q. You, too, Y/N. Assume you’re staying over to help take care of the patient, yeah?” He nods his head towards the injured one in the room.
“Yeah, I’ll be there. Be safe, Jack. Good luck,” you wave as he turns to leave.
“I’ll go pull the car around, be back in a few to help you get this ole’ goon out of here,” Quinn announces before leaving you and Luke alone once more.
“So, you’re really going to stay over? Play nurse for me?” Luke asks, looking at you with puppy dog eyes, batting his eyelashes.
“Of course I’m staying over. I can’t trust Jack to make sure you’re not up and around doing something stupid when you’re supposed to be resting.”
“So, if you’re going to play nurse, does this mean we can stop on the way home and get you one of those sexy nurse outfits?” Luke asks, eyes hopeful.
“Maybe they should’ve just left you out there unconscious on the ice, you were less annoying that way,” you fire back, smiling at the laugh Luke let out, thanking your lucky stars your boy is okay.
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bug-boy32 · 6 months
Note
Write some professor smut with Spenc x reader. Idk y I have a thing for that. It doesn’t have to be a big age gap. He’s young, college would be perfect, grad school even if you want to make the reader older. They can be going for anything I just want smut. I want him to have her riding his thigh after class or something.
I just need him. And smut. I’m not okay.
Meet me after class 🤎
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Pairing: professor!spencerreid x fem!reader
Summary: After weeks of trying to break your favorite professor, he finally relents and you get your wish. After class. In his office.
Warnings: smut!!! Thigh riding, age gap (they are both adults just reader is a college student Spencer is a professor) semi public s3x! !!!MINORS DNI!!! I will tell your mama
Word count: 776
A/N: Thank you anon for this request!! I am so exited to start writing Spencer and I hope you all enjoy! ♥︎♥︎
Divider credits: @kithsune @cafekitsune
Want more like this??? ☞ my master list
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It was no secret that Dr. Spencer Reid is your campus’s resident heartthrob. The professor had a constant flock of young women filling up his criminology classes at the beginning of each semester, and his effect was not lost on you.
Since the beginning of the semester you had made it your mission to gain the younger professor’s attention (sure he was still 10 or so years older than you but still, younger.) On the first day of class, you sit close to the front of class so he sees you when you wear low cut tops and short shorts.
But even after weeks of trying, you seem to have not yet caught the attention of your favorite professor. So, frustrated, you had nearly given up your efforts until that fateful afternoon. “Y/N will you please see me after class” Spencer spoke as he walked closer to your desk space. You quickly nodded thinking about what he could possibly need. You knew you had a good grade in his class and always turned in assignments on time. So maybe…just maybe…your efforts have paid off.
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After class your body buzzed with excitement as you walked to Dr. Reid’s office across the dirtied carpets of the lecture hall. You knocked meekly, not wanting to seem too bold or too disruptive. He opened the door shortly, but surprised you when he practically shoved you into the small office space.
“U-uh ahem well Dr. Reid you asked to see me” you stuttered as you watched him pace his office space, seemingly contemplating his next move.
He sat down at his large desk chair and instead of answering your question he simply said “sit.” And pointed at his khaki clad thighs. “Sir I’m not sure what you mean I can just sit in this chair here.” You tried to respond but he quickly cut you off saying “No, sit here.” As he pointed to his lap again.
You tentatively moved closer to your professor and as soon as you were within arms length, his strong hands grabbed your hips and pulled you onto his lap. He leaned over your shoulder and whispered lowly, “You seem so shocked is this not what you wanted darling…’cause you can tell me no right now and I’ll stop.” You whimpered as he spoke and involuntarily writhed in his lap as you responded “N-no please don’t stop s-sir.”
“Good girl, now here’s what’s going to happen.” He continued to whisper. “I’m going to continue my work for while, and you are going to make yourself cum right here on my thigh. Then when I’m done…maybe you’ll get a reward.” He spoke, as you nodded dumbly at his words and the feeling of his breath tickling your ear. “I need to hear you sweet girl.” He teased. “Y-yes sir.” you responded As you began to move back and forth along his thigh.
He hummed satisfied as he started to type on his laptop. You buried your face in his neck as to not make too much noise and you promptly sped up your movements against his leg. You were careful not to bump your back against the desk and disrupt his typing but still, he slipped a hand beneath your cable-knit sweater and rubbed his thumb along your shoulder blade.
Your skin burned at his touch and the feeling encouraged you to increase the speed of your movements and hopefully reach your release faster. You could feel your wetness soaking through the panties you wore as your skirt rode up along your thighs, the delicious friction of your clit against his thigh only egging you on.
“P-please I’m so close.” You whimpered close to his ear, yet you elicited no response from your professor as he continued on typing. He simply hummed and you continued your efforts for what seemed like many more hours.
You could feel your release building within your lower stomach and you grind against him faster. Muffled against his shoulder you screamed out his name over and over as you reached your high, practically panting against his sweater vest.
“Good girl, such a good girl for me.” He praised as you came down from your high and began to catch your breath. His hand slowly trailing up and down your back in an effort to soothe you. When you had calmed down enough you looked down at where your soaked core met his thigh, and saw the mess you had made where his pants were darkened. He chuckled, which prompted you to look up at him as he spoke, “I think you earned that reward now darling hmm?.”
You could tell you’d definitely be seeing him after class more often from now on.
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Thank you for reading! Reblogs and likes always appreciated!! Comment your thoughts!! 👓🤎
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r0ttenhearts · 10 months
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can I request a charac using reader who has a crush on them for their own benefits. while reader is left to wonder why chrc acts like a stranger to reader in public. eventually confronting chrc and them brushing it off as not noticing, being too busy. until reader eavesdropped to a convo with chrc's friend abt chrc just using reader. and reader leaves and ignores chrc for a while and chrc slowly starts missing reader's presence, only to see reader with someone else and confronting reader about it. of course charac won't get the happy ending 😈
(preferably scara, or childe-- if u write for him.)
feel free to ignore, I think I haven't expressed my req properly 😭😭.
also can I be 🌧️ anon ? :>
thanks 🌧️ anon for the request ^^ i hope you enjoy!
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not your pet, anymore
scaramouche x reader
warnings: angst, arguments, insults, suggestive mentions
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“you love me, right?”
“of course i do, scara. you mean so much to me.” you whispered, fingers running through his hair as he leaned against you. his thick eyelashes fluttered shut, hand on his chest as he lay against you.
the biting cold of fall couldn’t compare to the warmth you two shared, huddled together like this. his cheeks still tinted pink from the cold air, hands cold to the touch, it was just the way you liked him to be. cold enough for him to want to sit close to you and warm up.
touches were not a regular occurrence for scaramouche, he was normally dismissive, claiming he hated the closeness of skin on skin contact. but that wasn’t said when he’d tug at the end of your sweater, asking if he could feel more of your warmth. soft pants escaping your lips, his cold hands wandering, bodies on the cold floor of his bedroom. that’s how you’d spend your days after school.
but this time, with your hair sticking to your sweaty forehead as you finished up some of scaramouche’s homework he had passed on to you, something felt different. he was glued to his phone, an unusual smile gracing his lips as his thumbs danced across the device. you frowned, putting down your pen as you watched his face pull up in expressions you had rarely seen.
“who’re you talking to scara?”
“none of your business, (y/n).” he snapped, the smile he had been wearing for a few minutes dropping as his head snapped up to look at you. he sighed dramatically, getting up from the floor as he placed his phone down next to your hand, his face inches away from you.
“so damn nosy (y/n), when you should be doing my essay. are you bored? should i give you more work? or maybe i should let you suck me off, put your mouth to use. i think i like you better when you’re stuffing me in than anything you’ve ever said, anyway.” he sneered, enjoying the silence from you. a slight movement from you caused annoyance to bubbled up inside of him, his face unable to hide that itching feeling.
“you know, if you weren’t like this i’d be nicer to you, hell, maybe i’d love you. fat chance of that happening, i hate you most of the time. the only time i like your mouth open is when you’re making those pretty sounds for me, anything else is just muck.
why’re you so quiet, huh? are you gonna run off to your friends again? tell them how horrible i am? you think someone like collei will bother with you after you tell her what you do in here with me? how you open yourself to me? after swearing to her you’re done with me? you’re fucking something, (y/n). honestly, i’m getting sick of you. can you get the fuck out now?”
scaramouche’s phone buzzes, screen lighting up with a new text message. the both of you glance to it at the same time before he snatches it up, typing away a response as you gather your things without a word. biting your tongue was easier said then done, but you knew the argument would be worse if you said anything to him at all.
with a gentle click of scaramouche’s door, hours had gone by since you made your way home. a warm shower to rid of the nagging feeling at the pit of your stomach, along with the stickiness scaramouche had left you. you weren’t enjoying this, not one bit.
you figured you’d talk to him tomorrow in class, apologize for your inconveniences to him, and have it return to how it usually was after a fight. if you could call it one.
what you didn’t expect was to see scaramouche sitting by the green haired girl, haypasia, his usual seat empty as they sat side by side. quietly setting your things down, you still thought to say good morning to him, as a sign of peace.
standing from your seat, you meekly stood in front of him, hands wringing in front of you nervously. “good morning scara, and haypasia, i was wondering if—“
scaramouche never looked at you the whole time you were standing in front of him, his eyes glued on haypasia as her eyes bore into yours. a bitter smirk on haypasia’s face as she waved you off, scaramouche rolling his eyes before continuing whatever conversation they were having before you interrupted him.
a pain started to form in your chest. that nauseating prick that you’d feel every time you knew scaramouche was fooling around with other girls. cold sweat was all you felt as class droned on, your eyes never leaving the back of scaramouche’s head as his hand would slip underneath haypasia’s desk, sliding her pieces of paper that she would giggle at or turn red to after reading.
why is he being like this? should you have said something yesterday? would the satisfaction of knowing he practically owned you satisfy him enough to not be like this? these thoughts ran through your head until it was time for lunch, that bell being something of a savior as you were freed from seeing him there with her.
childe’s loud laughs caught your attention as he stood with kazuha, an anxious look on the white haired boys face as his eyes locked with yours for a moment. “i mean, just look at her! everyone knows scara is just using her. i heard, he’s been sleeping with (y/n) so he’s good enough to do it with that other girl, whatever her name is. you know her, right kazuha? whatdya think? did you get a piece of her yet too? or is it just scara sinking his claws in her, and something else!”
kazuha’s nervous laugh as childe punched his arm spoke volumes as you stood up, clutching the strap of your bag. kazuha noticed the tears in your eyes as you ran out of the classroom, you had heard every word that came out of childe’s mouth. excusing himself, he ran after you, his soft taps of his feet on the floor in comparison to your loud, cluttered footsteps.
scaramouche heard about this from childe, his demeanor changing once childe gave him the details on how kazuha ran after you. he didn’t know why it bothered him, but it did. no one else should be acknowledging his pet, the one that was so compliant and listened to everything he asked of you.
that’s how he saw you, and that’s all you were to him. right? that egging feeling in his chest as his messages to you were now left on seen more often than not. your cat keychain you hung on your bag that “reminded you of him” being replaced by a charm of a maple leaf, the same one kazuha had on his bag.
it bothered him. and he didn’t try to hide it. every time you’d sit next to kazuha instead of him, he’d grumble under his breath. a part of him ached to see you bare on his bedroom floor again, your fingers running through his hair, your gentle kisses on his forehead when you’d put him to bed when he was in a foul mood. he actually missed you.
but why were you so distant now? surely kazuha wasn’t giving you something he wasn’t, right? he couldn’t. you’d always declared your loyalty to scaramouche, never once breaking it.
then why did you admit you were in love with kazuha? your hands together in front of scaramouche as he scoffs, taking you by the wrist the second those words left your mouth.
“come again? i think i misheard you (y/n). you said you were in love with me just last month. so how do you even think you have feelings for that poet?” his voice wavered, eyes scanning across your face for a sign, a hint of remorse or love that you once held for him.
you shake your head, taking your hand away from scaramouche’s grip but he tightens it anyway. his eyes bore into yours, begging, pleading for it not to be true. for you to laugh it off and say you were kidding.
“he’s.. kind. it’s unlike something i’ve had before, and.. it feels good. it feels good to be wanted, scara. something i never felt with you.”
“something i never felt with you”, those words rung in his head as he laughs loudly, fat tears spilling as he pulls you into his chest. your hands going to push him away as he holds you tightly, laughing through his tears.
“you promised me (y/n), you promised you’d stay. you said you’d stay with me forever, love me forever! please don’t be like them, please don’t let that be a lie.”
“let me go, scara. please.” you whispered, feeling him shake his head as his hands tighten around you.
“n-no, no.. i can’t lose you too. archons, i can’t. what did childe say (y/n)? i promise he didn’t mean it, whatever he said isn’t true! i swear.. let’s just, go back to how it used to be, yeah? you can come over like you used to and- and we just don’t have to have sex. we can do things you like! i swear.. so please..”
his tears had rolled down, coating your neck as he wept. you’d never seen him in such a desperate state. his eyes looking into yours for a hint of what used to be there for him, but there wasn’t. more tears rolled down his cheeks as he let you go. he had fucked up. again. and this time he lost you, the one thing he never thought he’d lose.
“i’m sorry, scara. i’ve moved on. i think you have too with haypasia, you’ll be okay.” you say before picking up your bag, leaving him standing there with a wreck of feelings in his chest.
“you’re just like the rest.” he spat under his breath, harshly wiping at his eyes as the tears continued to flow. a hateful sentence meant to comfort no one but himself. he knew you weren’t at fault for it, he knew one day you’d want something more of him, something he’d be reluctant to give you. the day you finally escaped the clutches of the toxic relationship he had given you, the same day he had deemed the end of his new beginning.
“i never got my forever with you, like you promised. i can’t apologize for hating you for it.”
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taglist: @sakiimeo @astrolomona @dearsumire @saeism @shoheartluv @0kauy @lelemnh @kaoriee @samarill
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genacity · 11 months
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Hi there 🫢
So I just had to write a letter… and I had to put it in an envelope (obvi) and it was one of those envelopes that you have to lick to seal.
Now imagine Scaramouche being ur roommate, and he sees you lick the envelope and his thoughts run WILD
I had to share this cuz idk 💪
🎐anon
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nsfw / suggestive scaramouche & the envelope; ANON THIS IS CRAZY WHY ARE YOU SO SMART
i am literally shaking. your last request was so good but this one takes it all 💯 HOW DO YOU THINK OF THESE THINGS
i was thinking of making this an entire fic by itself but i have other drafts i need to clear so you get whatever the hell this may be sorry 😰
you and scaramouche had been roommates for a few months now. he wasn’t the sweetest person in the world; but he payed his share of the bills, had a stable job, and had contributed to the house enough to be able to label him as a decent roommate.
the both of you never seemed to bother each other very often unless it was about the house. maybe the occasional “good morning” or “see you later”, but other than casualties, you never seemed to speak much.
maybe that was why you didn’t expect today to be so different than the rest. today, you had to head down to the post office to send a thank you letter to one of your family members. you had just graduated college recently and since they had send flowers and some money to “treat yourself” (you knew it would just go towards taxes anyways), you concluded that it would be basic courtesy to send a card back at the least.
you stood over the kitchen counter writing out the last of your letter to your extended family. your wrist ached with fatigue as you signed your name next to the love at the bottom of the card and put the pen aside, reaching over to the envelope you had put next to you.
scaramouche walked into the kitchen past you to slide a mug under and press a few buttons on the coffee maker. “what are you doing?” he had asked, the buzzing of the machine behind him making you lick your teeth to hold back the outward cringe. ‘that coffee maker must be old,’ you thought. ‘we should buy a new one soon.’
“just writing a letter.” you said flatly, picking up the envelope and turning to face scaramouche to engage in small talk.
scaramouche raised his eyebrows. “to who?” he inquired. you blinked and looked around for a moment; never had he held a conversation out with you for this long. this was definitely a first. “just some family that came to my graduation.” you murmured, lips occupied as you brought the envelope in your hands to your tongue to lick the seal.
you stuck your tongue out to glide it across the sticky part at the top, the taste of plastic lingering as you wet the seal. your eyes were too focused on the envelope to assure you didn’t cut your tongue (it’s happened before) that you didn’t notice the growing expression on your roommate’s face.
scaramouche’s eyes widened at the sight of your long tongue extending from your lips, carefully licking the adhesive and sealing the letter shut. his lips parted slightly, chest heaving with heavy breaths as his grip against the counter behind him hardened.
he could only stare, frozen in place as you finished the letter off with your stamps of choice and signing the address on the front. you said something to him, but he couldn’t hear you; the only thought in his mind your tongue and what it could do to him.
wait— what? what the hell was he thinking? you were his roommate; just some lowlife he shared an apartment with. but as much as he bashed himself internally, the image of you bending him over this counter right now, using that careful tongue of yours to please him was all he could see. vision foggy as his lips pressed themselves into a line, the sound of the coffee machine behind beeping snapped him out of his thoughts.
“scaramouche, hello? have you seen my—” “no!” he snapped, snatching the mug from the machine and rushing off to his room. your eyes trailed him confusedly. what was wrong with him? matter of fact, what was wrong with you?
you watched him rush away, eyes falling to the evident bulge in his pants before he slammed the door of his bedroom.
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flowerandblood · 7 months
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The Impossible Choice (55) (End)
[ Aemond • Targaryen x Baratheon! • female ]
[ warnings: sex content, smut, giving birth, breastfeeding kink, mention of trauma, violence ]
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[description: Aemond comes to Storm’s End to choose his future consort. However, Lord Borros Baratheon presents him with only four of his five daughters. Being attached to his youngest child, he does not want to marry her. The prince, however, thwarts his and her plans with his decision. This is slow burn, with a lot of dark angst and sexual tension. (Anon Request)]
I am touched, this is my longest story, my beloved child, my beloved couple. This story of mine was probably the most successful and brought me a lot of joy, your involvement made me want to keep writing. I feel like I'm ending at the right moment, just as I wanted, and I hope you won't be disappointed. I remind those in despair that I still have stories from The Impossible Choice AU to write. I also recommend reading Brother, Lover, Son and The Pearl and The Sapphire, because these are also stories from this universe. Thank you all for such a wonderful response!
* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *
Previous and next chapters: Masterlist
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She wasn't sure she'd ever been as horrified in her life as she was when she realised her husband had lied to her. After he left the wedding feast, as she waited for him in his chamber she finally asked the guards standing at her door if they knew if he was still in the Small Council hall.
They looked at her in a way that made her feel uncomfortable, one of them swallowed loudly and said it was impossible.
They did not explain to her why, but she understood that her husband had hidden something from her, that he had planned something and gone away, left her. Her head was buzzing with his question that he had asked her before he left, she could see his gaze, his lower lip trembling slightly.
"You know that I love you."
Only then did she realise it was a kind of farewell.
A farewell in case he didn't come back.
She felt as she had that night when his army had set out with her father to Eyrie only for her to suffer such a painful loss and she shuddered all over at the thought, huddled against her pillow, that the same thing awaited her this time. She began to cry loudly, terrified, unable to calm herself, her child in her womb moving restlessly, sensing her condition.
She was unable to fall asleep, but she was also too tired to think logically in the morning so she persisted in lethargy, breathing hard, recoiling at every louder sound, hoping it was him.
Finally the door opened and he stood there, his white hair, his face, his hands, his armour all in blood.
She covered her face with her hands trying not to scream, horrified at the thought that it could have been his own blood, that he was wounded, and just stared at him with big eyes, unable to get a word out.
There was a kind of emptiness and weariness in his gaze.
He approached her slowly and the door closed quietly behind him. He knelt in front of her with a loud clatter of his metal armour and embraced her gently, tenderly, cuddling his cheek against her abdomen, only then did she feel him tremble all over.
"It's done." He whispered in a hoarse, low voice while looking somewhere in the distance, and she felt a tightening in her stomach mixed with relief and horror.
It's done.
Her lip trembled as an involuntary question escaped her lips.
"Are they dead?"
Her husband swallowed hard, clenched his eyes as her hands stroked his hair, she felt him seek comfort in her arms, consolation, an escape from what he had done, what he would have to face every day from now on.
"Yes."
She didn't ask him anything else. She didn't ask him how they died, who killed them, if they suffered much.
She didn't want to know that.
She didn't want to think about it.
"You must take a bath, my love." She whispered, kissing the top of his head, and he sighed quietly, as if relieved, as if afraid that the scale of his act, the enormity of the sin he had brought with him would make her push him away.
She knew he needed her like never before.
She did not let him out of her arms, letting him snuggle into her womb as she called their servants and ordered them to prepare a tub of hot water. As they did so she combed her fingers through his hair, whispering to him that he was brave, that there was no other way, that he had protected her and their child, his family, that he had to do this.
She told him everything he needed to hear to keep him from going mad with despair.
She felt his tears on the skin of her arms, felt that his body was shaking, that the realisation of what he had done was slowly reaching his mind along with the adrenaline and overwhelm leaving his body.
"Joffrey…" He muttered and pressed his lips together in an attempt to hold back the feeling that was building up inside him, and then he burst out sobbing.
She felt a tightening in her throat at the thought of that little boy, at the thought that both he and she knew he was a child who had nothing to do with these events, was no different from Jaehaerys.
"− shhh − I know − I know − I know, my beloved − I am with you −" She whispered and leaned towards him so as to enclose him in the embrace of her body, his head pressed from the side to her abdomen and from the top to her breasts, her hands stroking his neck and wet cheeks, her lips kissing his hair.
Slowly he began to calm down, ashamed of his weakness and what he had shown her he finally grunted and stood up. She helped him take off his armour, then his chemise and trousers. He stepped into the tub of hot water and let out a loud gasp of air, as if he didn't believe he was back.
That he was alive.
Just as she had done before, just as she had done then, at the beginning of their marriage, she began by washing his head, the blood from his hair and body staining the water red. She felt him lift his hand back and run his fingertips over her arm, as if he needed to feel the touch of her body, needed to be physically reassured that she was with him, that he was not alone.
She knew he was scared, that what he had done was crushing him and that she needed to be there for him.
She tried not to think about it, to push the doubt and remorse away, knowing that she had to be his pillar, his strength, that he could not see hesitation in her. He needed to feel that he had made the right choice, that she did not despise him, that nothing had changed.
After his bath, she helped him get dressed in clean clothes. Even though it was morning and they should be eating breakfast, she led him to their bed holding his hand, and lay down with him.
"Try to sleep, my dearest. I will be with you all the time." She said softly. He hummed under his breath and nodded, laying down beside her, cuddling his face between her breasts. She placed her chin in his hair, embracing him tightly, stroking him, and began to quietly sing him the lullaby her mother used to hum to her when she was a child.
She felt his tense body slowly relax, felt him cry again, and then after a time that lasted an eternity for her he finally fell into a restless sleep.
Word of Aegon's severe burns reached her quickly and she decided to visit him with her husband, knowing better than anyone else what he was going through. As they entered his chamber Helaena was watching over him, rising from his bed and smiling at them.
Aegon's face was almost entirely covered in bandages and she felt an involuntary tightening in her heart at the sight.
Despite what he had done, she felt sorry for him.
"How are you feeling, brother?" She asked softly and he glanced at her, warmth in his gaze by the way she called him. He shrugged his shoulders.
"Not only am I disgusting on the inside, now I'm disgusting on the outside." He laughed, but no one responded to his words. They talked for a while, and then Aegon surprised her with his words.
"I would like to speak in private with my brother."
She and Helaena left his chamber and moved ahead with a slow step, now that she knew it was over, that nothing threatened them anymore, she suddenly felt a gigantic relief, as if she realised that she was safe, that she could calm down at last. She looked at her companion.
"Is he good for you now?" She asked, Helaena looked at her with dreamy eyes.
"Yes. Yes, a lot has changed in him. I regret that it is only now, but… well, I am glad that after the death of our son, I and my daughter find comfort in his arms." She said quietly, looking around, distracted, immersed in her own thoughts. She involuntarily smiled at her words.
"I'm really glad."
She decided not to return to her husband's chamber, but to visit Royce and his new wife. She reasoned that since the danger had passed, she no longer needed to fear anything and lock herself in his quarters like a prison.
She stood outside her brother's chambers and asked the guard to announce her. The man went inside, and after a moment came out and said that Lord and Lady Baratheon would welcome her.
She went inside with a smile, stroking her pregnant abdomen contentedly. Royce stood up, extending his hands to her, and they threw themselves into each other's arms, embracing each other tightly.
"I've heard about what they have done. Gods, why didn't they tell me anything?" He asked, glancing at her, and she sighed heavily.
"I suspect it was all about the surprise effect. My Lady. My congratulations on your nuptials." She said softly and nodded at the young woman who stood up from the table, her dark hair braided, a grey-blue long, simple gown with wide sleeves on her body, she wore no jewellery.
Even so, she must have found the expression on her face pleasing, her mouth was full as was her shape, there was something curious and magnetising in her eyes.
"Thank you, my Lady." She answered her and also nodded. She glanced at her husband, moving towards the entrance.
"I'll leave you alone. Husband." She said lowly and calmly, nodding at him, embarrassment and something she couldn't decipher ran across Royce's face. When she left, they both sat down at the table, Royce grunting away while combing his hair quickly with his hand.
"I'm sorry for the intrusion. I just wanted to make sure you were feeling well." She said quietly, looking at him intently, unsure if he was happy or not.
"Oh, I feel fine." He said quickly, pouring himself a cup of wine and grunting loudly. She blinked, looking at him intensely.
"Are you content?" She asked finally. He lifted his gaze to her and pressed his lower lip tight. He sighed and ran his hand over his face.
"I…I've had close-ups with various women, but she…gods, I don't even know how to put it, I've never experienced anything like this. She's very experienced, I can only tell you that much." He mumbled and she saw with surprise and amusement that he was all red, he had trouble looking into her face, clearly overwhelmed by the memories of his last night.
"So… you're content." She finished at last, and he pressed his lips together and grunted again.
"I…yes, I think so."
When she returned to her husband's chamber he was already waiting for her, sitting in a chair right by the fire, his eye piercing her, focused and anxious.
"Where have you been?" He asked coolly and she sighed quietly, approaching him slowly. Her abdomen was still swelling, and she was getting tired of walking more and more quickly, but sitting wasn't any more comfortable for her.
"I visited my brother. He is pleased with his new wife." She said softly and touched his hand with her fingers. "I thought that since my husband has ensured that the danger has passed, I could visit him."
Aemond looked at her watchfully, and after a moment he hummed under his breath and nodded, accepting her words and explanation. His gaze fled to the fire again, her hand tightening on his skin.
"What did your brother want?"
Her husband was silent for a long time, his whole body as tense as a string. He swallowed loudly, running his fingers over his chin.
"He said he wants to relinquish the throne to me." He said lowly, and she looked at him in shock, feeling her heart begin to pound like mad. "That as he is now, he cannot rule the kingdom or represent it physically."
There was a silence between them full of tension, his gaze finally lifting to her, wanting to see her reaction.
"Did you agree?" She asked quietly. She had the feeling that his gaze was piercing her deeply, that he knew her enough to be aware of her every doubt, her every thought.
His silence seemed to last her an eternity.
"No."
She blinked, opening and closing her mouth, looking at him in disbelief.
She felt a sense of relief.
"Why?" She asked in shock, and he murmured under his breath, stretching out his hand on his armrest, straightening and clenching his fingers as he always did when he was thinking hard about something.
"Because I promised the gods that if they spared you I would give up my hopes for the crown. They kept you alive then, in Harrenhal, and they kept you alive in the Red Keep. I have grown to think that the gods do not want me to be king. My current role suits me. As the Hand of the King and Prince Regent, I will rule in his name until his condition improves. I told him I want something else in return." He said, entwining their fingers together, stroking her soft, warm skin with his thumb.
She felt heat in her heart at his words, at the thought that he still remembered that vow, that he truly believed that through his sacrifice the gods were watching over her.
"And what do you want?" She asked softly, and he lifted his gaze to her, a disturbing glint in his eye.
"Dragonstone."
When they finally moved to Dragonstone she moved with difficulty, the heat was unbearable for her and she demanded a cool bath as soon as they reached the place. Before their arrival, Aemond had the chamber in the underground where Luke was last seen completely cleaned and sealed.
When she finally sank into the icy water she breathed a loud sigh of relief, her husband strolling through their chamber with evident satisfaction.
She knew that he had at last won a coveted inheritance, something to pass on to his descendants that was his. She knew he had been waiting for this moment all his life. When he looked at her at last she smiled at him.
He hummed under his breath and approached her unhurriedly with his hands folded behind his back, gazing intently at the indistinct outline of her body that he could see beneath the sheet of water.
He knelt by her tub and took her hand in his, pressing it to his lips. He stroked her wet skin with his thumb and let the air out quietly through his nose.
"Just a few more weeks." He whispered, and she nodded.
She did not want to be alone at such a difficult time and asked that Cassandra come to Dragonstone to keep her company. Helaena and Alicent had also announced their passage, so that she was not as afraid.
She saw him press his lips together, looking at her stomach. She knew what he was thinking about, she knew what he feared.
He was afraid that she would die.
That she had not been taken from him by fire or by an assassin, but would be ripped from him by her labour, just as it had taken wives from husbands for hundreds of years, just as it had taken Aemma from his father.
She stroked his face, seeing his worry and tension.
"Be of good cheer, my beloved." She whispered tenderly and he nodded, kissing her hand again.
She felt her first intense contractions at the table when they were eating dinner together, as they did every day.
Her husband was telling her about a new book he had read about the history of the First People, and she listened intently and contentedly until a wave of pain went through her body. She dropped her cup and rose suddenly, catching her stomach, her husband froze in mid-motion.
"What's happening?" He asked terrified, unable to move for a moment.
"I think it's starting." She muttered, and then felt something warm run down her thighs.
She began to cry in his arms as he carried her to their chamber, for Cassandra, Helaena and Alicent were only due to arrive in two days. True, the midwives and maids were by her side, but it wasn't the same.
"I don't want to be alone." She whined quietly and he looked at her despairingly, laying her down on the bed, the women around her began to untie her gown to help her.
"…do you want me to stay with you?" He asked uncertainly, and she swallowed with difficulty and wept loudly, feeling another powerful spasm.
Aemond turned his face away, unable to look at her suffering, not knowing how to behave, not having any knowledge of these women's affairs that always took place behind closed doors.
"Get out." She said finally, grabbing her stomach, she felt him throw her a shocked, uncertain look. "Get out, I don't want you to look at this."
She exhaled, not wanting him to be disgusted with her, so that later, thinking of her, all he could see was that sight, the sight of a ripped flesh full of sweat, blood and bodily fluids.
He, however, did not move from his place, his hands clenched into fists, horror in his gaze.
He didn't know what to do.
She didn't have the strength to think about it, hot sweat was running down her whole body, she felt like she was on fire. She breathed a sigh of relief when she was finally left in just her nightgown, one of the servants put a pillow under her back and another applied a cold compress to her forehead.
The midwife sat down in front of her, parting her legs with her hands, peering between her thighs.
"When I tell you, my lady, you will begin to push. Do you understand?" She asked softly, she was a plump, blushing woman, her voice gentle and warm.
She imagined with tears in her eyes that this strange woman was her mother, and that the maid rubbing her forehead was her sister, and nodded quickly.
Without even looking at him, she knew that her husband was still standing by their bed.
She felt relief and horror, gratitude and rage at the same time.
The pain and contractions began to become more intense and followed each other faster and faster, her heart pounding like mad, her whole body in readiness for the tremendous effort that awaited her.
She wondered if she would survive it.
"Push, my lady!" The woman called out, and she clenched her eyes shut and, with a loud whine of effort, tried to force her child out of herself. She felt something move inside her and she threw her head back, panting heavily as she felt tears running down her cheeks.
"Very well. Breathe, my lady, deep, full breaths." The woman spoke to her, and she nodded, trying to focus only on her breathing, on the way the air flowed through her chest.
"Push!" She called out again, and she clenched her hands on the bedclothes around her and cried out loudly, feeling the searing pain, her baby's head trying to squeeze through her tight walls.
She fell backwards panting all over, heard a sudden movement beside her, her husband's hand tightened on hers, his gesture of support and terror, his gesture of closeness, his sign that he was there for her.
"Yes, just like that. And again. Push!"
It felt like it went on forever, she was one big sweaty, weeping mess, she clenched her fingers on his hand so tightly she felt like she was going to break his fingers, her heart pounding like crazy.
"I can already see the head, my lady! Just a little more! Push!" She squeezed her eyes shut and a whined in effort and pain as she made her body to force her offspring out.
Suddenly she felt something flow out of her, a sudden lightness and relief filled her, the midwife caught something red in her arms.
"There he is, my lady, look what a beautiful baby boy!" She said, wrapping the small creature all smeared with blood in a clean white cloth, wiping him slowly, and she laughed with joy and relief as she looked at her child's face.
Her son had dark Baratheon hair.
She turned her head towards her husband, wanting to see his reaction, his joy at the sight of their child, but she saw that he was crying without even looking in that direction, his wet cheek pressed against her hand, his fingers clenched on her skin trembling all over.
She felt her heart squeeze at the thought that he was rejoicing that she had been alive.
When their first shock had passed, when she had been changed into a clean chemise and the bedclothes had been changed, when she had lain back in bed, her son had at last been given to her, having already had his first bath, wrapped in a warm, bright blanket, his tiny arms and legs squirming vigorously when he felt her proximity, as if he recognised her immediately.
She felt a bond, a love, a tenderness, looking at his little chubby pink face, his scent was wonderful and addictive.
She looked up contentedly and saw her husband's proud look, an almost invisible smile on his face. He stood over her with his arms folded behind his back, preferring not to touch such a small creature for the time being, watching his interaction with his mother.
They had agreed that if a girl was born she would name her, and if a boy was born, he would name him. She knew exactly what name he had chosen, but she asked him anyway.
"Daeron."
It was only at night, when they were finally alone, that her husband lay down beside them in just his chemise, looking intently at the little being sleeping in her arms. She cradled him looking at him with tenderness, thinking that he was the most beautiful child she had ever seen in her life.
"He has your eyes." She whispered and he hummed with contentment at her words as he carefully put his arm around them, pressing his temple against her forehead. She felt him place a kiss on her cheek and on her jaw, felt him inhale her scent.
"You were so brave, sweet wife. I have never been more proud of you." He whispered tenderly, and she felt the heat spread through her heart. She looked up at him, brushing the tip of her nose against his and they kissed, warmly, softly, their lips moist and swollen.
They spent the next few weeks getting used to the changes in their lives. Her wounds healed slowly and after only a few days she was able to get up, much to the displeasure of her husband, who wanted her to avoid straining herself.
The cold stone walls of Dragonstone suddenly became cosier when the baby's babbling filled them, their son was loud and constantly laughing, overjoyed at their constant presence.
Aemond didn't want to be like his father, and though he was afraid to pick him up, he often looked in on him just to touch him, to make sure he was safe.
She saw him watching out of the corner of his eye as she fed their son, finding it a very intimate and private sight, his wife holding his heir at her breast, giving him life, tending to his legacy.
She knew he craved her, saw the way he gazed greedily at her breasts, but dared not demand anything of her after seeing their son tear her flesh.
However, when her wounds had healed and she was no longer in discomfort, when she told him he could touch her there, he threw himself at her like mad, his tongue deep in her throat, his hands ripping her chemise from her body.
They were both panting loudly, kissing each other greedily with a sticky, wet click, she felt him grab her hips and settle her on top of him, quickly untying his trousers, they didn't have time to be embarrassed by how much they needed it, that they just wanted to fuck.
"If I don't cum inside you soon I'll die, sweet wife." He gasped affectionately, his voice trembling with desire, and she kissed him again, clamping her hand in his hair, the other guiding his length to her entrance, slowly lowering herself onto him.
They both moaned piteously loudly, his hips beginning to impale her on his manhood again and again, filling her with himself, shivers of pleasure and heat passing through her.
She pressed her forehead against his, rising and falling against him, their bodies slapping against each other hard and fast, the lewd click of their shared juices echoing through their chamber.
"− can I taste you? − " He whispered so quietly that for a moment she wasn't sure she heard it, his hand involuntarily cupped her full breast filled to the brim with milk, she mewled in pleasure as she felt him begin to play with her nipple in his mouth.
"− yes −" She exhaled and moaned loudly, aroused by this perverse act, his lips clamped tightly around her nipple began to suckle, she heard the loud sound of him swallowing.
She clenched her hand in his hair pressing his face closer to her, feeling her walls begin to throb on his length that he pushed into her body with each of his deep thrusts, she was embarrassed by how surprisingly pleasurable it was.
"− oh, Aemond − yes −" She mewled as she struggled to fall and rise on top of him, their bodies slapping against each other with each violent movement of their flesh, his lips pulled away from her nipple with a loud plop, he licked his lips as he looked at her with a misty gaze.
"− so fucking delicious −" He breathed out and she whimpered softly, feeling his words between her thighs, not having the opportunity to answer him, his lips pressed against her other breast, repeating everything from the beginning, her nails tightened and ran over his naked back, she heard his loud purr of pleasure between the loud sounds of swallowed milk.
"− Aemond − it feels so good − oh gods −" She cried out loudly and tilted her head back, coming harder than ever in her life, he moaned low into her breast without releasing her from his mouth, she felt his hot semen spill inside her a moment later, they were both panting and moaning loudly, she wasn't sure she had ever experienced such an intense, long orgasm before.
He finally released her breast from his mouth, pressing his face to her chest, panting along with her. She stroked his hair, kissing the top of his head, purring with delight as she felt his manhood pulsing inside her in fulfilment.
"− will you let me do it again? −" He asked in a trembling voice full of embarrassment and guilt, as if he had done something lewd and unthinkable, as if he feared she would now be ashamed of him. She kissed his hair at his question.
"− yes −"
From then on, his perfect place in the world was to be deep inside her with his mouth pressed against her breast. They both knew that there was something even more intimate than usual about this act, some kind of taboo, unmistakable intimacy that could not be replaced by anything else.
She tried not to burst out laughing when one day at breakfast he asked her feigning indifference when she would lose the milk in her breasts, and she answered him that her body would continue to produce it as long as she breastfed.
She then saw the shock and the glint in his eye, he bit his lower lip involuntarily, unable to hide his expression of delight at this information.
They were closer together than ever.
The birth of their son reassured the entire kingdom, for in the event that Helaena did not bear Aegon another son, there was a young heir to the throne alive who would take over after his father.
When she spoke to her husband it seemed to her that he was made to be the Hand of the King, his advice always cool and recalcitrant. To her surprise, Aegon finally learned to use them and became a better king than she would ever have expected.
Daeron was a calm, joyful infant. He soon began to chatter, making his own unspecified sounds and syllables, bringing joy and laughter into their fortress. Her husband read to him a lot, and he stood in his little wooden bed with railings and hopped softly on his feet, delighted.
He adored him.
She had to keep repeating it to him because he didn't believe it, but his son was drawn to him, forever longing for him when he headed to the Red Keep for meetings, he would reach out his chubby hands greedily to him whenever he saw him return.
Although outwardly he was stern and cold towards the servants and guards, when he locked himself with them in their chamber he changed into a different person.
He would sometimes wake up in the middle of the night from a nightmare, say he heard Joffrey crying from the underground and frighten her, breathing hard. She tried not to show it, hugging and stroking him until he fell asleep again.
She knew that these events would never stop haunting him.
When morning set in, the first thing after checking with a touch of his hand that she was lying next to him was to see if Daeron was asleep in his bed. He would sometimes get up in the night to check that he was breathing and, reassured, would only return to further sleep, embracing her from behind and snuggling his face into the hollow of her neck.
She was overwhelmed with happiness when her brother sent her a letter from Storm's End informing her that his wife was expecting a child.
From what she understood their marriage had been quite successful and peaceful, her character proving far more calm and composed than her brother had originally assumed. She renewed herself in Storm's End, happy to still be close to the sea.
As the time approached for her to give birth, she asked her husband to fulfil his promise that he had made to her when they were in Harrenhal and for them to travel to Storm's End.
Travelling on a dragon's back with a small child seemed too dangerous for them, so they set off in a carriage, patiently enduring the hardships and length of the journey.
When they arrived she felt a strange tightness in her throat as she watched the round throne room where her father had always sat, and now her brother sat in his place.
He stood up happy to see her, kissed her cheek and stroked the head of her son whom she held in her arms, Daeron giggled happily and began to squirm again, bursting with energy.
"I see my nephew is growing fast. How these children are changing! He was such a little baby not so long ago." He said gushing with enthusiasm, clearly delighted at the prospect of becoming a father himself. She smiled broadly at his words, glad to see him, glad to be home.
Royce looked at her husband, who was standing behind her, and nodded. Aemond reciprocated the gesture, but they did not say a word to each other.
She felt memories hit her from every direction and she was moved. She had insisted that they sleep in her old chamber during their stay even though it was small her husband agreed without a word.
When they went inside their belongings and their son's cot were already standing. Aemond had only been there once, on the night he returned from Winterfell and left abruptly after their argument, so he had no time to look at anything closely.
He looked through her books curiously, looked out of her windows, looked around, and she thought fondly that he had tried to imagine her life before she met him.
Before he had chosen her.
"Would you like to see my mother's crypt?" She asked softly. He looked at her and nodded.
They descended into the underworld with the torch he held in his hand. Although the web of corridors beneath the fortress was complicated, she knew this path by heart, having often gone down there as a child, asking her mother for advice from the heavens.
After a short walk among the stone statues, they arrived in front of the one she remembered so well. She felt a tightness in her throat, burning tears in her eyes as she saw a familiar sculpture, a stone female figure that was supposed to resemble her mother, but did not even partially reflect her beauty.
She approached it and touched its cold surface with her hand, her husband remained silent.
"Mother, this is my husband, prince Aemond. Forgive me for not introducing him to you earlier. He chose me against my and my father's will, but I did not know then how much I would love him. I didn't know that…" She broke off, feeling her voice break, Aemond moved beside her restlessly, swallowing loudly.
"...I didn't know we would make it, I didn't believe I would be as happy as you were with my father. Thank you for watching over me, for listening to my prayers and making the gods send me the husband I asked for." She finished in a trembling voice, choking on her own tears, feeling that only now, two years after these events, did she truly understand what had happened, what she had experienced, what she had gone through, what a long and difficult path it had been.
She heard him come up to her, putting his torch down on the stone ground and embraced her, hugging her to his chest. She felt his heart pounding fast, felt that he was unable to get a word out. He kissed her hair and pressed his face to the top of her head, standing with her like this in the warm light of the fire.
"I thought it was impossible for someone to love me. I thought it was impossible for me to love someone. I thought it was impossible for me to make a good choice when I came here on Vhagar's back..." He whispered, and she clenched her hands tighter on the material of his leather jacket, his warmth, his familiar, wonderful, calming scent spreading through her lungs.
"...and then I saw you."
______
Taglist 1
@its-actually-minicika @notnormalthings-blog @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess
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feralforfrank · 8 months
Note
hey ☺️
the only thing on my mind is rooster shaving his mustache for whatever reason and gf reader is upset ! silly little blurb i luv ur writing muah
the stache incident.
BRADLEY 'ROOSTER' BRADSHAW X GN!READER
cw fluffy drabble ig :) NON-DESCRIPTIVE READER.
a/n ANON!!! ILY THANK YOU FOR READING MY STUFF <3333333 much love to you, MWAH!
masterlist | taglist
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You're shocked, heartbroken, in shambles, you name it. The grocery bag almost slips from your fingers when you hear the horrid sound of the electric razor from the bathroom. You place the bags on the counter before practically running inside.
You want to douse your eyes with gasoline when you see the damage. Bradley had been mentioning here and there that he wanted to shave his moustache just to see how he'd look without it. You'd forbade such talk inside the house, and he chuckled before dropping the subject.
But what seemed to be your biggest fear was becoming your new reality. With your keys clutched in one hand, the other holding on for dear life at the door frame, you watch your dear boyfriend shave the last of his moustache over the sink.
He hasn't noticed you yet. Music is playing from his phone, but you can't bring yourself to recognise the tune. This situation is way too tragic. When the buzzing sound stops emanating from the vile machine, Bradley finally turns around, having heard your panting.
"Babe, this isn't what it looks like." He speaks with hesitation and guilt.
"What did you do?" Your every word is punctuated.
Bradley opens his mouth but closes it, and you shake your head expectantly. "Well?"
"I-I was trimming it, and Din here," he looks at your cat, laying on the floor as if he's the criminal here, "came between my legs and scared me, and I moved my hand, and I shaved more than I should. It didn't look good anymore."
You scoff, pushing yourself off the doorway and turning to walk to your bedroom. Not once did you believe Bradley.
"Babe? Baby, c'mon!"
"I am not talking to you, hairless cat."
You hear him chuckle. "Hey, it's not that bad!" Bradley follows you into the bedroom.
"Never said it was." You shrug, taking your shirt off.
He's behind you in seconds, kissing your neck, his hands encircling your waist and pulling you closer. "You called me a hairless cat."
"Don't have a problem with cats. I own one." You pause, looking up. "Now, I got another one! Hm! Look at that!"
"Hey!" Bradley blows a breath where your jawline meets your ear, causing you to shiver.
You spend a few seconds like this, his hands around you, your back pressed against his smooth shirtless chest, face buried in your neck. Feels weird without the stache.
"So, you don't like it?" You realise you've spoken aloud when he questions you.
You shake your head. "I think you look attractive either way." You turn to Bradley, never escaping his grasp. 
"I'm only joking. You look like a baby. It's adorable!"
Bradley looks offended. "Well, in that case, I am letting it grow and never shaving it ever again."
You grab the back of his head, kissing where he used to have perfectly trimmed hair. The spot is soft and smooth as a baby's butt.
You can't help but smile. 
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[ taglist @roosterschanelslut @maverick-wingman @amnmich @mattyskies @wildcole @gretagerwigsmuse @bespinnn @oikawasblueearbud @rip--tide @barryswifey @fanboyluvr @spookys-girl @lonelywitchv2 @j-deimos @heywheresemily @avengersfan25 @piceous21 @sarahjoestewy-blog @n3ssm0nique @mouseymagines @xx-kate-xx13 @vaporub4ever @reading-rosa @marie1115 @dxvanadeline @plaboneruda @awesomebooklover17 @mxlsmith @mak-32 @torresbarnes @depressed-focker @kwanimations @magicstrengthandcourage @graysondanvers @danielmarie @giuliamunson @bordelhoe @studentville-struggles @melody-death @desert-fern @marvelsimps @darling-seraphina @erinnn-brry @mvnsons-slvt @darklordofthesimp @eberles ]
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teastainedprose · 1 month
Note
Hi !
Can you do a Homelander x F!Reader with a blackmail situation ?
For the context, someone's blackmailing Reader to leave Homelander and because of the stress she did it when he was patrolling. Of course, Homelander wouldn't accept it and try to find her but he can't. So a few days later Vought brought him a new "girlfriend" to heal the pain Reader "created" only for them to (by mistake) imply that they are responsible for the departure of Reader. After dealing with the situation at Vought, he went looking for her again, eventually finding her at her favorite spot, where she was trying to forget Homelander.
You can change some parts if you want 😁
Thanks you if you do it ♥️❤️
Listen, Anon. LISTEN! I am grabbing you by the shoulders, I am gently shaking you, I am lovingly cupping your cheek and whispering, "Write the fic." - because it's clear that you've got the plot and I bet you've been daydreaming up the story route and I need you to write it. Spit out some bullet points. Scribble out a few scenes out of order, but write it!!
As I read this ask while rolling out of bed half awake and ran off in a slightly different direction while I brainstormed in the shower and I know you've got an idea there so WRITE IT!! So I can read it
Now have something similar, but not quite what you outlined. This kinda evolved into a companion/epilogue?? piece to Play With Fire, as Vought would have plenty of reason to not want Homelander dating a canned employee, especially if she's a fat little thing. Bad for the brand and all.
+1.5k words | Warning for violence/gore, Homelander can have a little murder. As a treat. Plus-Sized female reader, established relationship, no proofreading as I was possessed
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The moment his boots drop onto the balcony and Homelander strides into the penthouse, he knows something is wrong.
First, there is the absence of you. Not just the lack of your body settled on the couch waiting for him as you often are, but everything you touched. The laptop you diligently type away at while working is gone. The vibrant throw pillows you insisted on getting to make the imposing couch more inviting are missing. The plush blanket you always coiled yourself into wasn't haphazardly thrown over the back of the couch as it always is when not in service. The lack of these items now makes the couch look barren and cold. Now Homelander can see how uninviting the whole thing looks.
There are other pieces of you missing as well. The trinkets and baubles you'd purchased on a whim and set about the penthouse, coloring the space with pieces of you. The discarded books, many with notes and dog-eared pages weren't haphazardly stuffed in strange places. Homelander would check the bedroom, but he knows the closet now has an empty space where your clothing hung.
There's a buzz starting up in his brain, an insistent worry that's setting his teeth on edge as Homelander's mind races across every possible reason why you're gone. You left him. Someone kidnapped you. You finally got tired of him. Someone stole you away. You hate him. Someone is hurting you. The buzzing grows in volume as Homelander's lip twitches up, feet taking him to pace across the floor before a movement in the corner of his eye cuts straight through the noise.
The buzzing goes silent. The colors are correct. Relief rushes over Homelander as he turns to face the figure in full. You, there you are and- 
No. Homelander blinks, drawing back a step as he takes in the woman standing at the entrance of his penthouse. She has your hair color; the cut has been styled like yours, but the texture is off. She's got something close to your complexion, your eye color even, and she's wearing clothing in your usual manner of dress, but everything is wrong. For one, she's thinner. Homelander sneers.
The woman smiles, uncertain as her heart races like a rabbit against her ribs. "Hi." One word uttered and it's all wrong. That's not your voice. That's not your smile. There is no sunshine breaking across this woman's face as she looks at Homelander. Her expression is quiet and expectant, waiting. Anxious.
He inhales slowly, rolling his neck as Homelander clenches his fists at his side. The scent on the air is bitter. She's afraid. She should be.
"No, no, no. Who the fuck are you?" Homelander snaps out, across the room in two long strides and now she's gasping. Gasping because Homelander has his fingers about her throat, gloves creaking softly as his grip tightens and lifts her. "Who the fuck are you?" He repeats, barking the words out.
"I-I'm Vicky," She stammers out as Homelander eases up enough to let her breath and set her feet back on the floor. That rabbit heart is trying to burst free within the woman's chest now, beating all the louder. "Y-your er, new girlfriend...?" Her words end in a panicked squeak as the woman tries to shrink away. 
"New- "Homelander cuts off as he stares at her, head tilted to the side and lip twitching as he digests this bit of information. He swallows and takes in a breath, reeling in his rage as his mind whirls. Vought had decided to replace you. Plucked up some stupid woman who only shares a similar color palette with you, but she isn't you. This woman is nowhere close to the beautiful creature you are.
Vought didn't approve of your secret relationship. They'd deemed you unmarketable. Not the image they wanted to project for the brand. Then there was the hope that Homelander would grow bored of you. To wait out his hyper-fixation on you. The months had crawled by and still Homelander kept you close. You'd moved in, burrowed yourself right into his life as Homelander wanted. 
For some fucking stupid reason, Vought thought a replacement would distract him. As if he's a child, or a dumb dog they've swapped a toy out on. 
"Vicky," Homelander smiles and it's the smile of a shark. All teeth and dead eyes. "How lovely," A purr now as Homelander slides his hand down her neck and brushes his thumb over her collarbone. Her smile is uncertain, but it's still there as she relaxes. The rabbit in her chest calms down. He digs his thumb in as Homelander sucks on his teeth.
Fucking idiot.
There's no warning when Homelander's fist buries itself into the woman's abdomen, only a wheezing hiss as the air is forced out of her. A wet sound follows under all that crunching and grinding of bone as Homelander twists his fist and pulls it back. He clicks his tongue, releasing the woman's corpse to topple across the floor.
Homelander exhales, puffing out his cheeks while looking down at his fist in mild disgust. The red leather hides fresh blood well, but he knows it'll congeal into a darker mess soon enough. Leaning over, he absently wipes it off on the fabric of the woman's sunshine colored dress. The sunshine would look better on you while the smeared red looks better on Vicky as far as Homelander is concerned.
It doesn’t take him long to hunt Ashley down, storming into her office with eyes flashing red. The only reason Homelander doesn’t fucking laser her in two is because she’s crying. Ashley is crying and blowing her nose into a tissue as she looks at Homelander, eyes filled with regret and tears. She’s grown fond of you, Homelander realizes and that’s reason enough not to cave her skull in. Homelander knows you like her well enough, too. Ashley blubbers the story out. They’d wanted you gone. Out of the picture and out of his life. You were an uncontrollable variable that refused to play ball and Edgar wasn’t one for loose strings. A replacement had already been found and was on her way earlier this morning. While Homelander was out on a mission, disposing of you had been easy enough. It only took thirty minutes to pack all of your things, revoke your access to the building and effectively lock you out. Ashley had managed a helping hand in the form of a plane ticket wherever you wished, knowing you no longer rented your own apartment after moving in with Homelander.
It had been a plot against you, he knows this now but why had you gone so willingly? Why weren’t you screaming outside of Vought Tower for him? Why did you take that plane ticket? Something rotten wriggles within Homelander’s heart. He knows he’s not an easy creature to live with and has worn your patience thin some days. The start of your relationship would have been considered rocky at best and there’s all that stalking he did that you still don’t know about. They gave you an out and you took it.
His trip to the airport is swift and no one would dare try to stop the Homelander as he seeks you out at your intended gate. Except you’re not there. You’ve not even checked in yet. He goes to your old apartment next, eyes scanning the building for your form. Your favorite restaurant is next. Then the place that makes your favorite tea. After that he’s hovering above the bookstore you’ve dragged him to. None of them contain you. Homelander is lost for a moment, mind frantic with worry now at where you could be. Then he remembers one of your favorite spots. A park close to where your old apartment is and it’s another place Homelander has been dragged to by you. This is a spot he enjoyed. It was quiet, even in such a bustling city. He always pretended it was a forest clearing you two were enjoying the peace of.
You’re there. Of course you are. You’re settled on a bench, head turned towards the trees as Homelander descends. “Sweetheart,” He growls. It comes out harsher than Homelander wants, but he’s on edge. Why did you leave him? 
You jump, head snapping round and he can see you’ve been crying. Your eyes are puffy, face pinched in pain as Homelander’s heart seizes at the sight. 
“What!?” You stare a beat, before anger rises. You’ve always been his little spitfire. “You had me cast out! They packed me up and kicked me out on your orders! You- You abandoned me…!” The fire smolders and dies as tears leak down your face.
"No, no, no. Not you, never you!" In an instant, all of Homelander's rage vanishes in the face of your sorrow. How could you ever want to leave his side? Foolish of him to even think it. Why would you ever want to leave? He’s beside you, he’s gathering you up in his arms, he’s crushing you gently in his hold. Your sobs are wet, loud, and there’s snot on his suit. Homelander doesn’t care. He shushes you, fingers combing through your hair as the arm about your middle squeezes just a bit tighter. The weight of you sinking against him and into him is a comfort, your flesh yielding under his grip on you.
“I came home and you were gone,” Homelander whispers against your ear as he nuzzles his nose into your hair. He inhales deeply, all of the tension leaving his body as he takes in your scent. “But I’m here now. It’s okay, I’ve got you,” He exhales, pulling back enough to look down at you. Homelander smiles. You’re here, you’re safe, he will never ever let you out of his sight again.
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talaok · 10 months
Note
Hey. I have an idea for pedro and reader
The reader's ex calls her in the middle of the night begging her back to him and the reader gets out the bedroom trying not to wake pedro up and avoid any fight but he wakes up and gets jealous and angry
Jealous Pedro is my own personal curse lol, I genuinely don’t get why you like him. But for you? Anything babes. Also, happy ending won in the poll, but thanks to an anon I've decided to write both endings bc I'm an asshole
warnings: jealousy, angst
Pt.2
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Oh fuck please not again.
Your phone buzzed on the nightstand, and you didn’t even need to look at the caller to know who it was.
Only one person would call you at 4:45 am. the same one that had been flooding you with texts and calls for a week now.
You had been ignoring him, telling yourself that “It’s just a phase” and “it’ll pass”, but god, had you been wrong.
You and Jason had broken up two years ago now, and casually, just when you had finally made your relationship with Pedro public, he felt the need to connect with you again.
That's not how Jason had always been, he was once caring and fun and everything you needed... until he wasn't.
He hadn't taken your breaking up with him well, and you tried to be understanding of it, god knows you had been in the same position too once or twice, your heart broken, your mind confused- but then when after two months he'd still call you crying, you decided to give him a little tough love by texting him something that could be summarized in "I know you're hurt but this is getting kind of ridiculous at this point" and by blocking him.
Somewhere after that, for some godforsaken reason, you had decided to unblock him, and to really show off your decision-making skills, you even answered the phone when he had called you last week, finding him in tears, begging for a second chance.
If you were anyone to judge, this call wasn't gonna be much different, but this story had to end at one point, and as you got up from the bed, sneaking out of the room as Pedro breathed soft snores into the air, you decided the time had come.
"Jason?" you whispered, tiptoeing to the living room.
"baby? Oh my god it's really you, I've been trying to call you"
"yeah I saw" you stated, not short of sarcasm
"Oh t-that's ok, you were busy I jus-"
"no Jason I wasn't busy, this is inappropriate"
"Wha-what are you talking about baby, I love you" 
there went the tears again
"Jason I'm sorry alright, but I don't, I have a boyfriend, I'm happy"
"no you don't understand babe I can't live without you, I love you more than life y/n, more than anything... I- I need you"
"Jason we broke up a long time ago. It's over. It has been for a while now"
"you don't mean that baby, we love each other, remember how good we were together? I know you do"
"stop calling me baby and stop calling me in general Jason. I don't love you and I don't want to get back together" Your voice raised to a whispery-yell as you got more frustrated.
"Why are you whispering- Is he there? Let me talk to him"
"why would I do that? What would you even want to tell him?"
"I'm sure I can make him understand, man to man y'konw-"
"oh shut up" you rolled your eyes "Jason stop calling me"
"but bab-"
"No. No buts, it's over. we're never getting back together. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going back to sleep, and I suggest you do the same"
"y/n please- I love you, I need you I-"
"goodnight Jason. Don't call me again" You didn't give him time to finish as you hung up, throwing your phone on the couch and closing your eyes as you took a very well-deserved deep breath.
Fuck this shit man.
"Who was it?"
You jumped on your feet, a shiver of fear running down your spine as you turned towards the ominous voice.
"Pedro-" you sighed, taking in his sleep-filled expression.
"Sorry, didn't mean to scare you" he apologized, with a soft chuckle "Who were you talking to?"
shit
"uh- don't worry, it was no one"
"I don't think it was no one if you got up at 4 in the morning to answer, did something happen?"
"no-no nothing like that, it's stupid, don't worry"
He frowned as he studied your expression, clearly confused at your secrecy.
"Who was it?"
Your eyes focused behind him at the glimpse of your room the opened door granted.
Everything was fine just 10 minutes ago...
"It was Jason"
Pedro paused a moment, taken aback by your answer
"Jason as in your ex-boyfriend Jason?" he asked "And why exactly was Jason calling you in the middle of the night?"
"it's not what you think" 
This was why you didn't want him to know.
He had a history with unfaithfulness, the woman before you had cheated on him multiple times and left him hurt and bruised, and it was hard for him to fully trust you - or anyone for that matter- after that.
you didn't want him to close off again, you trusted each other, and you feared this would have given him a reason to get back to old habits.
"It's not? 'cause it sure looks like it"
"no, let me explain-" you got closer to him.
"I'm so fucking stupid" he huffed, not listening to you 
"no you're not, just-listen to me" you said, putting a hand on his chest in an attempt to calm him down
He watched you, hurt and anger in his eyes, but he took a breath, nodding as he grumbled a "fine"
"He's been calling me for a while-"
"is that supposed to make me feel better?"
"Baby, let me talk" you reminded him, and he gave you another non-enthusiastic nod "He's been calling me since I made our relationship public, saying that he wants to get back with me and that he loves me..." you paused, glancing at the way he tightened his fists by his side "and I've been ignoring him because-" your lips turned into a soft smile as you reached for his hand "...well because I've got you, and I don't want anybody else in the world except you"
You intertwined your fingers with his and brought his hand up to your mouth to leave a quick kiss on it.
"and the only reason why I answered tonight is because I was sick of it, and I wanted to tell him once and for all that we're done because I love you, and only you Pedro" You stood on your tiptoes to kiss his cheek "I promise"
You saw the way your words affected him.
And as much as he tried to fight it, you were always the only one able to calm him down, even when his worst fear came to life. Because he loved you, but most importantly... he trusted you.
"are you telling the truth?" he finally asked, as if in his mind he wasn't praying for you to be doing just that.
He didn't want to lose you, he couldn't.
"I am baby. I swear" 
His eyes left yours for a second as he took a deep breath
"why didn't you tell me? I would have done something, I would have gone have a talk with that asshole"
You let out a small laugh
"yeah, a talk" you teased, raising your eyebrows "And besides it didn't matter, it was just a stupid thing not worth your time"
he took your other hand in his, shaking his head
"if he, or anybody else, does this again you tell me, ok?" 
As much as you wanted to joke about how many crazy exes he believed you had, you decided this wasn't the time.
"ok" you smiled "I promise"
"good" he nodded, bending down to ghost your lips "Now let's go to bed so I can remind you of a few things I'm sure I'm better at than Jason"
__ __ __
or... (angst with no happy ending)
__ __ __
"It's not what you think"
"It's not? 'cause it sure looks like it"
"It was just a phone call Pedro, just let me explain"
"A phone call with your ex-boyfriend"
"yes, exactly my ex-boyfriend"
"This is unbelievable," he huffed, passing a hand through his hair in a frustrated gesture "I fucking trusted you. You made me trust you, and then... then you go screw that fucking asshole behind my back"
"I'm not screwing anybody"
"sure you aren't" he turned to walk away, but you grabbed his arm.
"Listen to me"
"To what? more lies?" he snapped 
"No Pedro I can explain if you just let me talk"
"I don't need an explanation, I know exactly what's going on, just- leave me, I'll go"
"Just like that?" you questioned "You don't even wanna hear me out for a second? You so easily lose all the trust you had in me?"
"Can you blame me?" 
"This is ridiculous, I've answered the phone to tell him to stop calling, that's the only reason why! I'm not cheating on you" you spoke, your tone getting louder "And the fact that you came to that conclusion so quickly is fucking insulting"
"right" he snickered "so you answered the phone at four in the morning to tell him to stop calling, very believable y/n" he shook his head "and to think you're a fucking actress"
"fuck you Pedro" you spat out "You know what? I deserve someone who trusts me, who lets me fucking speak and explain myself, not someone who at the first mistake throws me out like trash"
"And I deserve someone who's not a cheater. Guess we both deserve better"
"I guess we do"
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simp2537 · 3 months
Note
Hey there, I saw your requests were open and just wanted to ask if you’d be willing to do a yandere Percy Jackson x a male or gender neutral reader who happens to be an actor— I myself am male, but I also think it’s annoying to look for a fic about your favorite character, only to find out it’s written for the opposite gender. The reader can either be a demigod (probably a child of Apollo or Dionysus since those two are closely related to acting & whatnot) or just some mortal that can see through the mist like Rachel or something. Either way, would you mind writing about Percy seeing the reader & a co-Star share a stage/film kiss? It could even be Percy & Annabeth since both are pretty cool and I like them both as a couple; plus, poly yandere situations are fun. You can also decide whether or not the reader and Percy/Percy and Annabeth are dating or not; thanks for taking the time to read this, and have a great day :)
-🪑 (I am now chair anon)
Stage Lovers
A/n sorry if this isn’t what you wanted, I took a small guess in a few things. Not sure if everything I wrote was canon but whatever. I wasn’t sure if you meant the show of book so if the books image their older and the same goes for the show. Also I used the Little Shop of Horrors play in this. Hope you enjoy.
Warnings: Yandere behaviors, possessive behaviors, slightly(a bit more then slightly) himbo reader, mention of killing someone later.
Anon - 🪑
All Characters are aged up to 18 plus
Percabeth x Male! Reader
Camp half-blood was a buzz with people. Apollo’s cabin was preparing the annul musical/play to celebrate their father’s birthday. Percy and Annabeth hovered around the scene as they watched their boyfriend practice his lines with some daughter of Aphrodite. The girl was too close, too touchy, to smiley for the pairs taste. Their sweet and kind boyfriend Y/n just helped her with a smile in his face. Percy kept an arm around the visibly seething Annabeth as they watched. Everyone at camp knew that Y/n was there. They all got the message but this stupid girl.
Open distain was on Annabeth face as Y/n walked over to them. His script loosely in his hands and a bright smile. He’d been working for weeks on this play, but he wouldn’t say a word about it. Y/n being the sweet boyfriend he is, wanted his lovers to be surprised when they watched him.
Y/n kissed Annabeth’s forehead first, hoping to soothe the anger visible on her face, then he moved to Percy. When he pulled away Percy held his hand.
“Who was that?”
Y/n turned his head at Annabeth’s tone. It’s irritated and annoyed.
“Who?” Y/n questioned unsure. Percy traced the back of Y/n’s hand.
“The girl over there, you were reading with her a moment ago Sunni.” Y/n blushed at Percy’s nickname for him. Looking back quickly Y/n missed the look of hatred his partners gave the girl.
“Oh, Vanessa, she’s my stage partner for the play.” The pair stilted. His partner?
“What play are you doing again?” Annabeth pondered twisting a lock of her hair. Y/n’s face lit up and he chuckled softly. The pair basked in awe of his voice. They could listen to him all day.
“Little Shop of Horror… Wait! No! I’ve spoiled it now! It was meant to be a surprise!” Y/n groaned softly. Percy laughed at his silly little Sunni. Annabeth raised a brow intrigued.
“Who do you play?”
“I’m Seymour!”
“And she is?” A moment of silence filled the air after Annabeth’s words. Percy brought Y/n closer and sent him a look.
“Who is she?” Percy demanded not liking that Y/n wouldn’t answer.
“You can’t get mad.” They pair furrowed there brows.
“Why would we be mad lovely?” Annabeth muttered softly moving some of Y/n hair. Y/n didn’t meet either of his partners gazes.
“She’s Audrey.”
Silence echoes through there conversation. Y/n had shown his partners the movie of Little Shop of Horrors once. In that one time they knew who Audrey was. Y/n took a nervous gulp and his partners shared a look.
“Are you mad?”
“No, lovely we’re not mad.”
Y/n breathed out a sigh of relief. One of his other siblings motioned for him to go back. Y/n kissed his partner goodbye quickly and dashed back to the stage.
“I’ll grab her after the show.” Annabeth voiced softly.
“Why can’t we grab her now?” Percy snapped. No one other than them was going to touch Y/n. They could allow that.
“We’re nothing going to mess up Y/n’s play, he’s been working so hard. We’ll throw her in the lake afterwards, then celebrate with Y/n.”
With Annabeth’s words said the pair returned there gaze to Y/n who was singing with one of his siblings who was playing Audrey two.
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kellykidd · 5 months
Text
No Matter What
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*Gif belongs to its rightful owner, it is not mine*
Pairing: Matthew Casey x reader
Summary: From Anonymous: Hellooooo ‘Stay behind me no matter what.’ Matt Casey :) ~~ Matt Casey + Reader + Fire Call = Hookups in his Quarters (I don’t make the rules)
Words: 682
Warnings: Intimate moment, canon typical events
Read on Ao3 here
Notes: Sorry it’s so short, but I hope you like it Anon!
Join my taglist here
Tags: @mrspeacem1nusone @kiddbegins @pensfan5871
__
“Need any help with the inventory?” Sylvie asked.
“I think I’m finished up,” you laughed, "you bored or something Brett?"
"I know I've only been in Chicago for a few months, but this is the first shift I've had with no-"
"I'm gonna cut you off right there before you jinx us. Those who say the 'Q' word or even think about the lack of runs is a jinx to the whole house."
"How do you know this?"
"Candidiate a few years back-"
Battalion 25, Truck 81, Engine 51, Squad 3, Ambulance 61, building fire, 723 North Wabash
"Looks like you are the new jinx, Sylvie Brett," you laughed, hopping into the passenger seat of 61, "and the jinx gets to drive."
Sylvie started the short drive to the scene, "how's it going with you and Casey?"
"Good, yeah, we're in a good place. It's weird to date someone you work with though. I'd never done that before Matt."
"Helps that your crazy schedules are synced."
"True that," you giggled, pulling up to the fire.
You hopped out of the rig and grabbed the jump bag before heading over to Boden.
"Where do you need us, Chief?" you asked.
"Two still inside, owner needs to be checked out."
As you and Sylvie tended to your victim, you could hear the commotion between truck and squad.
'Chief, I need a medic inside if you have one to spare' your radio buzzed. 
"You good here?" You asked Sylvie.
"Yup, go."
You threw your bunker coat on and grabbed the jump bag.
"Medic coming in now, Casey. Where am I going?" you said, hustling towards the fire.
"I'll come get you, we're turned around in here."
You stopped and waited at the door. 
"Fire is pretty much out," he announced, "follow behind me."
You followed Casey into the building and up the stairs. 
"Baby, I need you to stay behind me no matter what," Matt admitted, "I don't know what hapened in here and I don't want anything to happen to you."
You nodded and followed him up the stairs to the second floor of the building.
"Victim is over here. Burns and possibly a neck injury as far as we can tell.”
“Thanks. Conscious?”
“In and out.”
You leaned down beside your victim.
“I’m a paramedic, I’m here to help you,” you introduced yourself as you undressed the victim of his jacket. 
“Matt, you’re right. I’m worried about a neck injury. Grab the collar.”
Your boyfriend, now assistant, handed you your supplies.
“Help me get him out of here. It’s getting hotter in here.”
He nodded, picking up the jump bag beside him and handing it to you. 
“Got him?” You asked.
He nodded and brought your victim outside.
After finding Sylvie, you loaded up the victim while Sylvie got the oxygen ready for the ride to the hospital.
——
Returning to the house after your run, you looked in the ambo’s mirror.
“Brett, did you seriously let me ride around with soot on my face?” You laughed, trying to rub it away.
You walked into the now full common room with your partner.
“So are we finally gonna convince you to take the firefighter’s test?” Herrmann asked.
“Haha, very funny Herrmann. 61’s my home, always will be.”
“I’m sure we’ll get you over here at some point,” he chuckled.
You ducked out of the common room and into the bunk room, where you peeked into Matt’s office. 
“Got a minute?” You asked.
“For you? Always.”
You locked the door behind you.
“You know,” you laid down, semi-seductively, on his bed, “they way you said ‘stay behind me no matter what’ on that last call was-“
He leapt up from his chair and drew the blinds. 
“Was what?” He smiled.
“I was kinda sexy,” you grinned.
“Oh yeah?” He leaned in for a kiss.
“Yeah.”
“You know what else is sexy?” He broke the kiss for a moment, “you with all that soot on your face.”
“I guess we should do something about these feelings then, huh Matt Casey?”
“I think you might be right.”
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phantomspiderr · 1 year
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Right
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Pairing: Jake Lockley x afab!reader (established Marc Spector x reader)
Word Count: 3.9k+
Summary: Who knew being apart for weeks is the thing that sends you both over the edge ~part 2 to this beauty Wrong~
Warnings/Tags: 18+ SMUT, unprotected p in v, fingering, oh sweet virgin!jake, also touchstarved!jake if you squint, edging, both switch!Jake&reader(?), oral (m receiving), little bit of fluff sprinkled in, cursing, smidge of manhandling
a/n: okayyy this was completely self indulgent… I’m feeling a type of way and my heads fuzzy now. I’m glad so many of you enjoyed the first part and honestly can’t thank the anon that requested this enough. As always thank you so much for reading🥰
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You stand in the hallway, excitedly buzzing at their front door. You can’t stay still, the impatience of not seeing them for 3 weeks finally gets to you as you wait for the door to open. “Hi,” you have the widest smile on your face as the door finally swings open. For a second you’re not sure who’s fronting, their face is almost expressionless. It could be either of the three but you don’t get a moment longer to ponder. You’re pulled past the threshold and straight into his chest with a thud. His arms are wrapped around your shoulders in a firm hug, it catches you completely off guard at first but quickly you melt into him. Your arms slide around his waist, hands clasping at his back and you tuck your head into his neck. It feels so nice to be back here, it’s as if your body is able to relax for the first time in weeks. They’re here and they’re safe.
“You smell so good,” your nose brushes against his neck, smelling the aftershave that normally clings to your clothes after you leave them. It has a comforting effect every time you smell it and it seems to have an extra level to it after being apart for so long. “I missed you,” you get up on your tiptoes to kiss his jaw and then his cheek before leaning back as far as you can still in his embrace. You’re beaming up at him unable to hold in how happy you are and now he’s smiling too.
“I missed you cariño,” one of his hands comes around to stroke your cheek and your eyes fall shut, the small affection something you’ve missed dearly. His fingers curl under your jaw and gently he pushes your head back just a little. He takes his time to lean down and capture your lips with his and it takes everything in you not to let out a quiet moan. 
“Hello, mi amor.”
“Hi, Jake.”
Your cheeks hurt from how long you’ve been smiling and it’s only made worse when Jake’s eyes crinkle in the corners, a rare sight that really only you truly get to see.
“I really missed you,” Jake’s eyes look over your face slowly and he hums in response but he looks like he’s really thinking about what he’s going to say next. 
“Show me how much you missed me.”
You blink up at him a few times, unsure you heard him correctly but the way his eyebrow raises and his smile turns more into a smirk, you know you heard him right. His hand slides down to hold your neck, pulling you into another kiss.
“Are you sure?” You breathe against his lips and he nods before you’ve even finished your sentence. It had been months of carefully getting to know each other, months of patience and heavy makeout sessions that pushed the boundaries. Building trust with one another had been so important to Jake and therefore it was important to you. The conversations about what you were both comfortable with and what you both wanted, had done things to the imagination but now it’s happening your mind’s gone a little blank. “We can take it slow,” Jake hums again before pulling you into another kiss, “we can stop anytime.” He’s moving to kiss your neck already and at this point, you’re breathing is becoming more ragged, “you can change your mind at any-”
“Hermosa,” Jake pulls his head away enough so he can look down at you, “I am trying to fuck you, please let me.” 
Your eyes grow wide and you nod your head, quickly moving one of your hands up to the back of his head. You pull him down to kiss him this time, it’s desperate and needy. His hands sweep down your body until they rest on the backs of your thighs, he’s crouched awkwardly for a second before he hoists you up. You squeal his name, and your legs instinctively wrap around him while your hands hold his face between them. He has you giggling between kisses and even more so when you realise the front door was still wide open. Jake has you secured around him with one arm wrapped around you, the other reaching behind to close the door before he can press you up against it. He’s back to kissing your neck, strong hands massaging your thighs while yours slip into his hair. 
“This isn’t really me showing you how much I missed you,” you’re breathless and it’s funny how he’s got you in such a state already. He draws himself back so he can look you in the eyes, that signature smug expression all over his face. 
“Oh, you want to show me?” Again you’re nodding, feeling a surge of confidence come out of nowhere. “Okay hermosa,” he just barely brushes his lips against yours, “show me.”
Gently he pulls your legs from around him and drops you to your feet again. Something within you switches and the urge to please him, make him feel good, to show him just how much you missed him takes over completely.
Your hands smooth down his neck and over his chest, eyes locked on his as your fingers slowly move to the buttons of his shirt. Only briefly do you look away, mesmerised by the way your hands steadily expose him more. His chest is rising and falling so fast you think maybe he’s nervous but when you look up at him he’s nothing but confident. A hand comes up to hold your cheek, the gentle affection stark in comparison to the thoughts you’re having. You crane your head up to kiss him again, a little more forceful than before and your hands finally slip under his shirt. Jake sucks in a sharp breath at the contact but he moves instinctively when you push the material from his shoulders. Jake, with your help, tugs at it until it drops to the floor. The clean crisp shirt is now uncaringly wrinkled in a pile. The kisses grow more fervent as your hands delicately explore his newly exposed skin. Your nails graze against his sides and it causes goosebumps to break out all over his body. Your fingertips follow the waistline of his trousers, enjoying the deep breaths he has to take in. 
“Don’t tease.” It comes out mumbled against your lips and you have to chuckle that he thinks this is teasing, it’s more appreciation and taking your time. As if to prove that point you do it again, agonisingly slowly your fingers brushing against the skin just above his waistband. This time he deeply rumbles out your name and it’s your turn to be smug, feeling your ego grow a little. 
You show him some mercy, your hands moving to his belt and meticulously you begin undoing it. Suddenly, you find it amusing that Jake’s already half-naked while you still have your jacket and shoes on. So, you pull your hands away from his half-undone belt and a whine escapes him.
“Need to even it up,” you breathe out as you start tugging off your jacket. Jake’s hands quickly fumble to help you before it’s even off his fingers are pushing up the hem of your top. He’s pulling the material up your torso while you’re still yanking the jacket sleeves from your wrists. Then his lips are back on yours, a feverish kiss that makes you feel dizzy. It’s clumsy the way you’re dropping the jacket and trying to kick off your shoes all while Jake tries to strip you of another layer and kiss you desperately. You have to be the one to pull away so he can pull the top over your head. It’s barely off before Jake’s back to kissing you, his hands holding onto your face as if you might disappear and you can feel him getting lost in it all. The excitement mixed with some nervousness you know is lying beneath that’s getting him a bit carried away. Your hands move back to undoing his belt and trousers, remembering the task at hand. Jake gasps when one of your hands slips into his trousers, his forehead pressing into yours as he takes a few steadying breaths. 
“You tell me to stop if it’s too much okay?” He doesn’t respond, still breathing hard even though you haven’t moved your hand. You call his name and he just starts nodding, humming briefly.
“Use your words, honey.”
“Yes-okay-please, cariño.” He’s absolutely gone already, it’s satisfying the way you’ve managed to make big, scary Jake turn into absolute incoherent mush. You press a final quick kiss to his lips before ever so slowly you sink to your knees, Jake watches with surprise unable to say or do anything but watch you. 
You’re taking your time, not once taking your eyes off of his trusting that your hands can move blindly. They tug at the now undone trousers until they’re pooled at his feet, and then teasingly your nails graze up and up the outside of his legs. His eyes snap shut and his breath shudders when your fingers reach the edge of his underwear, he has to steady himself by leaning a hand against the door. Jake’s reaction makes you beam with confidence, so, your hands move, your fingers hooking under the material and dragging them down just enough. You try your hardest to fight off a grin as you note the way he sucks in a sharp breath and holds it there.
“Breathe, baby.”
Just as he focuses on breathing a normal amount, his eyes blinking open, your hand brushes over his cock and sends his breathing into a frenzy again. It’s endearing how sensitive he is, how reactive to your touch his body seems to be, there’s no hiding how he feels. You stop teasing, the need to see him wither more becoming increasingly more urgent. Delicately you place a kiss on the tip of his cock, absolutely revelling in the way his mouth drops open. Your eyes shift away from his face now, focused solely on the way your hand slowly starts to move up and down his cock and how he lets out such pretty little noises. Then his fist knocks against the door when you slowly push him past your lips, a string of unintelligible words following. You look up through your lashes and unexpectedly find him already looking down at you. His normally slicked-back hair is unruly, now strands fall onto his forehead and his eyes are half-lidded with his jaw completely slack. He’s an absolute sight and he lets out the most heavenly moan when you suck on the tip of his cock.
“Okay, stop, stop, stop, stop, stop.” His hand contradicts his words as it cups the back of your head and pushes him even further into your mouth. However, your hands grip his hips and gently push him away. You don’t even get a chance to ask if he’s okay because he’s pulling you back up onto very unsteady feet. Your back hits the door but his hand shields the back of your head from the assault and you’re back to kissing. Your head is dizzy from how fast he’s moved, however, the pressure of his lips on yours again is a welcome distraction to the numbness in your legs. His hands are suddenly back on your thighs and he’s pulling you back up to wrap your legs around him, a groan catching in his throat when you grind up against him. Your hands fall into his hair, combing through the rough curls. You can feel him moving now, trying to walk you both through the flat and he stumbles completely forgetting about the trousers still wrapped around his ankles. There’s an instant shock from both of you but then you’re giggling while he attempts to kick them off.
“Sorry,” he looks back up at you, his features dropped in fear he’s ruined the moment. Immediately you start shaking your head, shushing him between kisses you gently place on his lips. You nudge his cheek with your nose so he’ll turn a little and you can press more kisses to his skin, moving down to his neck while he more cautiously takes steps this time. You take your time sucking bruising marks onto his neck, taking great satisfaction in the sigh he lets out when you graze your teeth along the top of his shoulder.
Suddenly, he’s pressing you down onto the cold kitchen countertop and you’re squealing while desperately clinging onto him. A chuckle rumbles deep in his chest as he pulls back to look at you, his fingers gently graze your jaw before he angles your head up more and just barely skims his lips over yours. 
“You are so beautiful, mi amor.” You can feel your heart tighten at the sweet statement, your bottom lip jutting out just a little. For a moment, you just gaze at one another, smiles slowly growing the longer you look at each other. “Now,” his hands are back on your legs, slowly inching from your knees to your hips, “I think you’re still wearing too many clothes, no?” Your teeth sink into the inside of your bottom lip and you nod quickly. Jake grins at your eagerness before he’s pulling at the waistband of your trousers, with your assistance he manages to take off both your trousers and underwear. “That’s better,” he says dropping the material and moving closer again. Your arms wrap around his neck in an effort to keep him close and now, it’s your turn to be sensitive as his fingers lightly touch your now exposed thighs and your body shudders. Slowly, they move like they had before, up and up until his hands rest on top of your thighs. You don’t even realise your breathing has picked up, your eyes glued to his as you wait in anticipation. He smiles at you while his thumbs rub soothing circles against your skin. Your legs instinctively relax, opening ever so slightly wider and Jake seems to take that as his cue to move again. One hand moves off of your thigh and your hips squirm when Jake’s finger finally touches your pussy, your arms pull him closer until your foreheads touch. He takes his time dragging his fingers up to your clit which causes your legs to flinch, attempting to close but instead they just clamp around Jake’s hips. 
Your mind’s gone completely blank, solely focused on the way his fingers repeat what they’d just done. Then they’re gone and you whine at the loss, pulling your head back from his just as he raises the same hand that’d just been touching you to his mouth. Jake pushes two fingers past his lips while holding eye contact with you and your head is so cloudy you just watch, mouth falling open. Jake’s smirking after he pulls them from his mouth, his eyes scan down your face and then he’s tapping his wet fingers against your bottom lip. You let him slide the same two fingers into your mouth, and he deliberately presses against your tongue before dragging them out again. For a second, you draw your eyes away from his to look at his fingers, the wet digits glimmering in the light. Your eyes then flicker between his hand as it moves down again and his face, finally settling back on his face just before his fingers reach your pussy again. Jake watches as your eyes fall closed when he finally touches you again, one of your hands slipping from his shoulder to hold onto the edge of the counter. He’s fully satisfied with the way you’re reacting when he’s barely done anything, all the months have built up to this exact moment and he doesn’t think he’s ever been this genuinely excited for something in his whole life. He moves agonizingly slow as he circles your clit a few times, content with the way you whimper and your breathing quickens. Shamelessly he stares at your chest for a moment, enjoying the way it rises and falls rapidly and suddenly he wants more. Jake’s quickly become addicted to the sounds you make and he wants more of them, he wants them louder until it’s all he can hear. So, he casts his gaze back to your face because he wants to watch your reaction as he slips two fingers slowly into you. He’s more than happy when your mouth drops open more and you harshly suck in air. The arm that still hangs around his neck moves, your hand sliding into his hair and holding him in place—like he’d want to be anywhere else right now. 
You start panting as Jake moves his hand, pulling his fingers out almost completely before steadily pushing them in again. He builds his pace slowly, trying to memorise the way your panting turns into whimpers and then into quiet moans but he still wants more, he still wants you to be louder. His hand moves just a fraction quicker, the palm of his hand hits your clit with each thrust and it feels so good. Your fingers ache from how hard you’re gripping the edge of the counter, your other hand tugging probably a little too hard on his hair as you dangle on the edge of your climax already. You’re so close, just a little more and… he stops moving. His hand freezes, fingers still buried in your pussy and you’re clenching around him, begging for him to move as your climax begins to fade away.
“You didn’t think I’d forget cariño?” You’re dazed for a second trying to work out exactly what he said, “I need to know you remember who’s making you feel this good.” 
“Jake!” You want to punch him straight in his perfectly smug face.
“See you’re learning already,” he chuckles when you raise your hands to your face, you were so close to cumming you could cry. 
“Now, you keep saying my name until the neighbours know it.” Jake starts thrusting his fingers again with no warning and you gasp, the air doesn’t feel like it’s enough so you keep gasping in more. Your hands have moved to grip his shoulders, nails roughly digging into his skin. 
“Come on, cariño.” Your brain finally registers what he’d said before and his name tumbles out your mouth over and over again. The cocky bastard’s grinning now, pulling you back to that edge unbelievably quick and then he just stops again. He pulls his fingers from you this time and you cry out, completely upset that he’d hold onto this grudge and be so mean about it. 
“Just one more, I promise.” He contradicts his punishing hand by placing a delicate kiss on your cheek, waiting just a moment for you to come down. This time he presses his thumb to your clit, moving so slow at first until you whine his name and he shows a little mercy by speeding up. You’re so sensitive from being so close to your orgasm that it doesn’t take long for you to again be right there. You’re at the point you’re chanting out his name sprinkled with curse words and you’re just about there-
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!” Your forehead hits against his shoulder and Jake has the audacity to laugh as you cry out, thoroughly frustrated now by his cruel punishment. He’d completely removed his hand again and apparently, he found it funny as you practically begged for him to keep going.
“I know hermosa, I’m sorry.” He sure doesn’t sound sorry. “This time, I promise.”
Unexpectedly, you feel the head of his cock taps against your clit, sending sparks of pleasure up your spine. You pull your head back up again, looking at him as his free hand comes up to hold your face. You think you must look desperate and you are, you’re desperate for him to finally fuck you and you’re even more desperate to cum. Both of you move at the same time, nudging your noses against each other before sharing a heartfelt kiss. You barely pull apart, holding each other close as Jake moves his cock against your pussy. His hand falls from your face to firmly hold your hip as he unhurriedly pushes into you. He’s so careful, watching for any slight indication he’s going too fast but he’s somehow unbelievably perfect. He does stutter about halfway when your pussy clenches around him and he has to bury his head in between your neck and shoulder. Both his hands are now splayed on the counter on either side of you, holding himself still for a second to recollect himself. Somehow you manage to scoot your hips closer to the edge of the counter, your legs hooking around his hips and changing the angle so much his cock slips further into you. A strangled moan falls from Jake’s lips and that urge to see him whither comes back tenfold so you try to pull him even closer. Your hand that had been gripping the counter coming around to his lower back, that paired with your legs tug him closer and one of his arms tightly winds around your back. His fingers dig into your side and he grunts out something you don’t understand but then suddenly, he’s moving his hips at a moderate pace. It catches you off guard and your grip still in his hair tightens, you press the side of your face into his. This time he doesn’t take his time to build a steady pace, slamming into you over and over as you both moan. You’re so close again and you’ll do just about anything to cum this time. The hand that was pressed against his back slips around so you can now touch yourself, your fingers circling over your clit feverishly and almost immediately your pussy starts to clench.
“Fuckfuckfuck-” Jake’s hips falter, the arm around you pulling you almost off the counter. He recovers quickly and continues to thrust into you with slightly more difficult as you clench uncontrollably now. Entirely focused on how close you are to cumming finally, Jake’s thrusts become a little more forceful and you’re completely gone. His name comes out in a whine, your fingers moving just a little faster as your climax hits you hard. It feels unbelievable and it is almost worth all of the edging you received. Almost immediately Jake’s thrusts become shallow and deliberate, your pussy spasming around him causing rough groans to ring in your ears. You’re still on a high as Jake cums, his forehead still pressed to the place between your neck and your shoulder and you can feel his quick pants against your collarbone. You have to remove your hand from your pussy as his hips keep rocking into you as he cums, your entire body becoming oversensitive. Slowly, he comes to a stop still completely submerged inside you and for a second you both try to focus on your breathing, attempting to get your racing hearts back to a normal rate.
“Hi,” you breathe out when he raises his head. Jake looks so shy, his cheeks are completely flushed and he can’t keep his eyes on yours. It makes a smile grow as you tug his head closer, pressing your lips to his and you can feel him smile into the kiss. Jake pulls away only to bury his head in your neck again.
“Hermosa,” you whisper, combing your fingers through his hair which earns you a satisfied sigh mixed with a faint chuckle.
“Hermoso.” He quietly corrects which makes you smile even more, your heart fluttering a little when he kisses your collarbone.
“Hermoso then.” You whisper again before pressing a kiss to his head, content with just holding him like this for a minute.
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spideystevie · 1 year
Note
can I request prompt 13 with HANGMAN? so excited that you're writing for tgm now 🥹
i am also excited anon! thank you for requesting, i hope you enjoy <3 (1k) 
13. kissing someone’s forehead
The Hard Deck is a little busier than normal tonight, partially from the weekend and partially from the scattered rainfall you’d narrowly avoided getting caught in on your way over. Still, you’d managed to get a light spattering of raindrops on your hair and clothes. 
You hear everyone before you see them. Rowdy yells and encouraging cheers echoing from some place tucked away in a corner of the bar. The nerves in your stomach pinch and twist as you make your way over, searching for the familiar face of your best friend. 
You’d only met a few of his friends from the Navy a handful of times and even though you were explicitly invited to come out with them tonight, you were still a little nervous.
The sound of Jake’s laugh carries over the crowds, something you’d be able to recognize from any distance away in any crowd. The two of you lock eyes at the same time, almost like you were able to sense the other looking subconsciously. 
Something in you relaxes, the sight of his smile like a soothing balm to your nerves. He waves you over with the hand not holding the pool stick. It’s nice to see him around his new friends, all of them out of uniform and in their casual wear. 
“Hey, sweetheart,” he greets, straightening up from where he’d been sitting against the pool table. You try to ignore the swarm that grows in your stomach at the nickname and hope your smile doesn’t give you away.
“Hey,” you breathe out once you get close enough. You squish yourself into his side, your arm coming to wrap around him. It’s second nature for your hand to rub up and down his back, fingers spread. His shoulders relax and his arm comes up to wrap around your own shoulders. 
Jake’s hand squeezes your shoulder and pulls you into him even more. He leans his head down just enough for his lips to press against your forehead. It’s a gentle comfort, one that makes a gooey warmth travel from your head to your toes. 
You can’t help the smile that forms as you look up at him, his own smile making the corners of his eyes crinkle. You’re only a little bit aware of the eyes burning holes into the two of you but when someone clears their throat you blink hard and look away. 
“You remember everyone?” Jake asks, the slightest flush of red on his cheeks. Your eyes scan the crowd, taking in the familiar faces even if you don’t really remember everyone’s names all that well. Almost like he can sense this, he insists on pointing out who everybody is though he only gives you their callsigns.
“It’s good to see you, again,” Rooster says, a genuine smile on his face. He’s got sunglasses pushed onto the top of his head, though the sun has disappeared behind clouds, and he’s wearing one of those cheesy Hawaiian shirts.
“You too,” you nod, feeling a little shy in front of everyone. It doesn’t take long for everyone to resume what they had been up to right before you arrived and it eases some of the tension from your shoulders. Jake squeezes the one his hand is still resting on. 
“D’you need a drink?” he dips his head down to ask, lips close to the shell of your ear. A buzz settles beneath your skin. 
“Please,” you respond and Jake nods. He squeezes your shoulder once more, pushing his pool stick into your hand before he’s disappearing in the direction of the bar. You’re not sure what to do with it as you sit and wait.
“Do you play?” someone asks to your right, Phoenix, you think. You shake your head with a slight laugh. 
“Oh, god no. I’m a lousy shot, Jake’ll be the first to tell you,” you reply and you don’t miss the way her lips seem to settle into the smallest of smirks. She nods slowly, almost leaning against her own stick. 
“Are you two…” she trails off and you swallow, mouth opening and closing while you try to respond. You fluster, nervously twisting the stick between your fingers as you shake your head. 
“Oh! No, we..we’re not-he’s not,” you breathe out, trying to steady yourself. “We’re just friends.”
You can tell she doesn’t quite believe you from the way she hums in response, her eyes seeming to see right through you. It’s not like you hadn’t given it thought before, dating your best friend. You just tried to shove the thought as far down as it could go, never to see the light of day. 
“Shame,” is all she says, walking around to the other side of the pool table to line up a shot. You blink at her. Jake comes back not a moment too soon, a beer for him and your go-to drink of choice in hand. 
“Here you go,” you accept the glass readily, taking a generous drink from it the moment he hands it over. His eyes narrow if only slightly when you say thank you. “You okay?”
“‘Course,” you say, letting yourself smile as you look at him. And really, you are, because he has your drink order memorized and he greets you with a forehead kiss each time he sees you. He nods and takes a swig from his beer before setting it down next to your drink and taking the pool stick from your hand. 
The what-if comes naturally as you watch him set up his shot, the thought making you drink again. This time you don’t shove it to the back of your mind, you let it linger and fester in your head, wondering if maybe, just maybe it is a shame you hadn’t acted on it yet. Wondering if there’s a similar thrum of thoughts bouncing around Jake’s head too. 
Spoiler alert: there is and he’s at his wit’s end trying to contain it.
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kairiscorner · 9 months
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Hii! No need to rush but could you do a fic where the reader is also a spider-person and gets sucked into Miles’ dimension just like in itsv and noir and them get a long really well and end up being shipped by the rest? I think it’d be quite cute :D also sorry if this isn’t that elaborate ToT
hiya anon !! ╰(⸝⸝⸝´꒳`⸝⸝⸝)╯ dw about it !! i just hope you like this <:))
(reblogs are greatly appreciated, it helps get my content out there! if you guys like what you see, please reblog it too <:D)
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well, this was certainly a conundrum. the flashing lights of brooklyn practically blinded you, coupled with the sudden sounds and buzzing from the people, establishments, and cars passing by. you were disoriented, your spider sense was out of whack for the time being, and you could only wonder, 'this isn't my city... where am i?'
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you aimlessly wandered around the city, accidentally bumping into people here and there, almost getting run over when you missed the green pedestrian light, and bumping into a few too many streetlamps. you hated how familiar yet foreign this city felt to you; one minute, you minding your own business while swinging around your city, doing your rounds and all. but as you were swinging... you felt yourself gravitate to something. everything else around you--leaves, newspapers, plastic bags, even you yourself were getting drawn to this force.
it turned out to be a portal that opened up from somewhere else into your world; and try as you might to resist it and its pull, you were eventually sucked in and thrown into this city. "what i would give to... find someone who had the slightest clue about what the hell is--oomph!" you exclaimed as you felt a slight tingle crawl up through your shoulders, raise the hairs on your arms and the back of your neck, but the sudden collision between you and what felt like a tall man had interrupted that sense of yours from telling you what, or who, exactly was in front of you.
"oh, good heavens, you okay there?" asked a gentlemanly, kind of dapper-sounding voice. the man you bumped into held you up, with you eventually clinging on to him as you nearly fell over due to how disoriented you were from this new city's endlessly bright lights and loud noises. "i'm fine... sorry." you murmured as the man held you up and dusted you off a little. you got a better look of the guy and he tipped his fedora a little, and you noticed when you glanced at his attire from head to toe, you felt the tingle again through your bones this time--and you could tell he did, too.
"you're like me." you both announced in unison. you sighed in relief and felt yourself smile from underneath your mask. "yeah! yeah, i am, and you are! ok, um... do you have any clue where we are?" you asked him, hoping the monochrome man in the trench coat and fedora had any idea where you two were, but it seemed he was just as lost as you were. "i'm afraid i'm in the dark about this whole place too. i was kind of hoping someone would come along and show me around, but i guess the universe is too much of a joker to take peter parker seriously." he said with a slight chuckle as you sighed in disappointment, now.
"well... guess we're both lost, parker, was it?" you asked him with a raised eyebrow as he tipped his fedora again and nodded. "peter benjamin parker, please to meet ya." he said as he extended his gloved hand. you introduced yourself, and you noticed peter looking over your spider suit in awe. "you have such... a wonderful taste in fashion." he said with a smile underneath his mask. you smiled back, without even seeing his smile. "thanks, i've been told it's a little too colorful, though. i was considering toning it down, but i'm glad you like it." you replied. "ah, i've got the same problem, too. a lot of people have told me my getup is more like a mortician than it is a private investigator, let alone as a 'superhero'." he rambled a little as you listened to him.
"i guess we both have our problems with how people see us, then. but it's better than facing those problems alone, no?" you asked as you looked up at him. "certainly is." he responded. you two had agreed to swing over to the nearest rooftop and find answers from there, and all the while, you two talked on and on about each other's home universes and the lives you two lived there. "sounds cool, your universe, i mean. what if i brought you like, maybe, a glow in the dark ceiling decor?" you offered, to which peter almost lost his grip from his webbing. "you decorate ceilings? with... things that 'glow in the dark'? fascinating..." he said as he held on to his webbing tighter and his hat as the wind threatened to blow it away. "i'd love to have you over, though! maybe after this whole debacle, i can show you all the finest spots my home has to offer!" he said as you two swung around, and you found yourself agreeing to it already before even knowing him for an hour.
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after the whole collider fight, you rushed up to peter and embraced him tightly. "i knew you could make it out, with a champ like you, of course you would!" he exclaimed happily as he held you tightly. "and so did you, big man." you said as you chuckled in excitement and happiness at your group's victory. you could feel everyone else's eyes on you two, and the best part was... they were waiting for this moment to happen ever since you two joined their ensemble.
"i told you they had something going on together." peni said with a smile as ham held her hand, blowing a comically loud and exaggerated sniffle into a cloth he summoned from his hammerspace. "they were always destined to be in love!" he exclaimed as he cried into the cloth. you looked up to see them all looking at you and peter, and you immediately took your hands off him, a little hastily and still smiling widely like a dork. "we're just really happy we won!" you tried clearing it up, but peter wouldn't let go of you and still hugged you tightly. "yeah, we won, now lemme hug 'em, yeah?" peter said as the others chuckled, with some crying out of happiness for you two.
you looked at peter, with peter looking back at you. you placed both of your hands on his cheeks and smiled. "can i... visit your world for a little bit, when we find a way to do that safely?" you asked him as he leaned a little closer toward you. "oh, darling... i'd let you be with me every time. i do wanna see your world, too--maybe the universe will finally come along for peter benjamin parker now and let us be happy at each other's sides--" "oooookay, that's enough people, move along, chop chop, let's go home." said peter b as he cut off your peter at the sight of how loving he was being to you. "quick word of advice, if you two get married, never invest in a spider-themed restaurant, they will hate you forever." he whispered to your peter, who took mental note of that.
"guess this is... goodbye." you told him as you held his hand, not wanting to let go. "no, doll... it's a see you soon, i promise." he said as he swiftly planted a soft kiss on your forehead as he let go of your hand and lifted his mask up to show you his face--his charming, sweet smile that promised to meet you again very soon.
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tags !! @thecoolerdor @miguelswifey04 @sabcandoit @binibinileonara @k4tsu3 @luvstarrstruck @maxoloqy @connors-cumslurper
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