#i have no idea when my body will allow me to be motivated

[stup1dloverboy]

UURGEHHRHF MY MOTIVATION IS SO LOW NOW...

Same with confidence..........

HOLDING OFF ON THE RP BLOG THINGIE UNTIL IM BETTER !! :33

(also, suggestions r still very appreciated <:) )

#random #just lyk ! #things have happened since the poll and i have not been doing so well #cries/nsrs #i have no idea when my body will allow me to be motivated

[nereidprinc3ss]

whiny and spoiled

in which reader is being a brat but spencer just can't help himself from taking off her clothes and going down on her anyway!

18+ (smut) warnings/tags: MUNCH!SPENCE (aka canon compliant!) oral fem receiving (duh lol) reader referred to as a girl, bratty reader, idk if this is soft dom spencer or if this is just pure unadulterated munch spencer who will eat pussy at the drop of a hat, overstimulation kinda, sexy and hot, will make u bust a/n: requests are tentatively open in that i may not complete them but i will surely consider them!! thank you guys for all the positive feedback, it's so motivating and i love that you seem to like my stuff so much! please lmk if you like this and what you'd like to see more of in the future! so many ideas and WIPs

You’re lounging on Spencer’s bed when he gets home, fiddling with one of his Rubik’s cubes and kicking your feet in the air absent-mindedly. 

You look up as he opens the bedroom door and gestures for you to remove your headphones, looking a little bemused at the scene in front of him. 

“How was work?” you ask, eyes tracking him as he shrugs off his bag and comes to kiss you in greeting. 

“It was fine,” he dismisses, hands braced on the mattress as he leans over you, looking you up and down. “Why are you wearing boots in bed?” 

“Because I didn’t feel like dealing with the laces.” 

“Take them off, please. You have no idea how much bacteria and filth you’re introducing to the place I sleep.” 

“Probably no more than I do with my hands,” you shrug, shaking the Rubiks cube in his face for added emphasis. He plucks it from your hand and sets it on the bedside table. 

“I’m asking politely,” Spencer says, raising his eyebrows slightly and standing up straight, probably wondering if this is the thing you’re going to push him on tonight. You chew your lip, cocking your head as you regard him. 

“I want to keep them on. They’re my good luck charm. People leave the scary girl wearing the stompy boots alone.” 

He circles to the foot of the bed. 

“Are you saying you want to scare me away?” 

“No. But I don’t need the boots to scare you,” you tease. 

You squeal when he grabs your ankles and pulls you down the bed, beginning to unlace one of your shoes. 

“Do these actually intimidate people?” he asks absent-mindedly, focused on loosening the laces. 

“I mean... I don’t know. Maybe some people,” you splutter after a moment, slightly flustered. 

“Hm. I guess I don’t find you all that scary to begin with,” Spencer admits, tugging the first boot off and tossing it to the ground before getting to work on the second one.  

“Shut up. I’m totally scary.” 

But you’re losing your steel as he looks down at you, eyes raking over your body. There is a hungry sort of sparkle in his eyes now—one that has become familiar and sends a thrill through you. 

“Maybe to people who don’t know you very well.” 

Your eyes narrow. 

“Don’t patronize me.” 

The second boot is removed and joins the other on the floor. His hands begin running up and down the front of your legs. You shiver.  

“I’m not patronizing you, honey. I’m just being honest.” The movement of his hands ceases as he seems to consider something. “Do you want me to be scared of you?” 

You swallow, eyes darting over his face and looming frame, wishing he would keep touching you. 

“No,” you find yourself saying. “But fear is respect. Everybody likes being respected.” 

“I don’t know if I agree that fear and respect are the same,” he muses, smiling ever so slightly, “but I respect you very much.” He resumes moving his hands, higher this time, over your thighs and under your skirt. “I just can’t imagine such a sweet girl being perceived as intimidating.” 

“I am not sweet,” you mutter, distracted by the way his hands skim so lightly over your skin—flipping your skirt over your stomach.  

“Right. You’re terrifying,” he amends gently, hooking his fingers in the waistband of your tights. “Up.” You lift your hips, allowing him to tug the sheer fabric down your legs and carefully off your feet. “The pink underwear are really scary,” he teases, snapping the fabric against your hip. 

“Shut up,” you repeat breathlessly, face heating. “You’re the one that got them for me.” 

“I did, didn’t I? They look good on you.” Finally, he looks up from the pink lace to your eyes. “Can I take them off?” 

“You don’t always have to ask, you know,” you breathe. Sometimes, the answer is obvious enough. 

“I like hearing you say yes.” 

You flush, because what he really means is that he likes when you get desperate. 

“Yes, you can take them off.” 

A smile flickers over his face as he slides the underwear down and off, making sure to take his sweet time. Every brush of his thumb on your calf, every delicate pass over your ankle gives you anticipatory chills.  

“Before I’m dead?” you ask, slightly strained. He tsks, tossing them on the bed. 

“Someone should do something about that attitude of yours.” 

“My attitude is your fault.” 

“Because I like giving you what you want? Sue me.” 

“Spencer,” you grit. 

He slings your ankles over his shoulders. 

“See? You’re not scary. You’re just whiny and spoiled.” 

And before you can defend yourself, or at least make a sufficiently withering reply, he’s leaning down, licking a broad stripe between your legs that for once renders you speechless. Any comment on the tip of your tongue dies as the tip of his becomes all you can think about, melting into a content moan while you rake your fingers through his hair. He sucks lightly on your clit until you’re rolling your hips and then he releases, moving to press kisses to your inner thighs. “Are you going to be nice now?” 

“Mhm,” you promise, wanting only for him to keep pleasuring you in that mind-numbing way of his. 

“Are you just saying that?” 

Another kiss. 

“No! Mean it,” you whimper. 

“Good girl,” he says, rubbing your outer thigh.  

The next kiss is planted on your clit, before he’s taking it into his mouth again and leaving you a whiny mess. You throw your head back and your eyes flutter shut, melting into the bed and not bothering to hold back your sounds. 

“Fuck.” Your voice is small, a gasp as he begins to flick his tongue over the bud, each brush against the sensitive spot making your hips stutter. He rubs your leg soothingly but doesn’t let up—you look back down to watch as best you can through your hazy, half-lidded eyes. “I love you,” you murmur. 

He laughs against you and the vibrations only make you feel higher, whining and bucking slightly when he begins to lap at your slick entrance—kitten licks so light they’re torturous. 

Spencer obviously has a goal in mind; there’s no hesitation and the teasing is minimal. He just wants to make you feel good. And it’s working. The man eats pussy like he’s in love with it.  

His name is rolling off your tongue when he kicks into full gear, firm, fast circles around your clit that make you dizzy and hot.  

“Oh, my god—” you cut yourself off with a languid, shameless moan, rolling your head to the side but keeping your eyes glued on him. He groans in approval as your hands card through his hair, moving one hand to slide affectionately up and down your stomach as the muscles there tense and flex.  

“Fucking obscene,” he mutters, pausing for another filthy, wet kiss to your cunt. “Taste so good, angel girl.” 

“Mm... wanna cum,” you beg, rolling your hips and hoping he’ll get the message. 

“You will.” Spencer takes a long, luxurious lick as if to prove his point, pulling a desperate mewl from your parted lips. “Because you always get exactly what you want, don't you?” 

“Mhm,” you agree, eyes screwing shut, but the reply quickly devolves into a stream of little ah’s that are so sweet Spencer has trouble reconciling their sanctity with their pornographic nature. And the way you unconsciously, innocently begin to pull him closer, trying to press yourself further into his mouth—well, it’s like he said; fucking obscene.  

Sometimes Spencer likes to tease you at this point, to pull away and say sweet and dirty things that always bring forth your most adorable, embarrassed, desperate whimpers. But you taste so good, and you are whiny and spoiled, and you make such pretty noises when you’re all soft and needy like this and he can’t bear to pull away. Not when you deserve to cum. And it’s thoughts like these that are the reason you’re a spoiled princess, he muses peripherally. Because he’s fucking whipped for you. 

“That’s so good,” you exhale, “just like that, please—fuck!” 

He knows you’re going to cum, and there are many things he could do, many things he could say to fuck you over for his own enjoyment, but now he wants more than just about anything he’s ever wanted to work you apart and taste you cumming on his tongue. So he keeps running a reassuring hand over your stomach, trying to remind you to breathe as you approach your peak. 

You finish, a slow wave of ecstasy washing over you, chanting his name as your hips sporadically roll and stutter into his face, and he’s making out with your soaked, messy pussy in a way that would never lead one to believe he’s ever been shy or squeamish or hesitant in any way.  

“Spencer,” you yelp, incandescent warmth radiating in soft waves from your core and slowing your movements as your hips twitch in an attempt to escape the continual onslaught of his mouth. 

“You can take it for a minute, honey,” 

A defeated, half-pleasure half-pain whine lets him know he’s won as he continues to kiss your throbbing cunt, but soon small, weak moans are slipping unbidden past the barrier of your lips. You realize he’s going to make you cum again and there’s nothing you can do about it but tighten your hold in his hair, groan, and ride his tongue as he eats you for all that you’re worth. 

The second orgasm is softer, blurrier, and equally perfect as the first. It threatens the already tenuous hold you have on your consciousness, strand after strand snapping until you’re barely hanging on. 

“Spencer,” you repeat, slurring as you try to shut your legs. “Please, can’t, baby.” 

“You could,” he says, sitting up and closing your useless legs for you, massaging the weak muscles. “You’ve done more.” 

“Mm-mm,” you disagree, chest rising and falling as your breathing slows. “Don’t wanna.” 

“That’s okay, angel. I’m not gonna force you.” 

You sigh, obviously satisfied. “That felt really good.” 

“I bet it did,” he chuckles, finally moving to lay down next to you. Immediately you curl up to him, and he smooths your skirt back down before tracing soothing patterns on the leg you’ve slung over him. “You’re so cute.” 

“Don’t go spreading it around.” 

“Never,” he promises, mocking but in good nature. The two of you lay in comfortable silence for a few moments, as you consider his decidedly unsatisfying answer. 

“You’re not even a little scared of me?” 

He smoothes your hair away from your eyes. 

“No, honey, I’m not. But I’m sure other people find you utterly terrifying.” 

You open your eyes to regard him ruefully, before they narrow again. 

“You have a little something...” you begin, gesturing to your mouth. He snorts. 

“Oh, do I?” 

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid smut #criminal minds smut

[obliviouscxnt]

Nightmare Azriel x Reader

a/n: oh my god, I’m actually so shocked by the feedback from the last fic. It gave me the serotonin and motivation to write a part two :o I'm probably going to make this into a series, I have many ideas!! Maybe some smut if I'm feeling brave... thank you so much, I hope you enjoy! :))

can be read as a standalone, but without some context from pt.1 things might become confusing

synopsis: your need to help gets you into trouble

Warnings: strong(?) hints of sexual activities, minor angst, minor violence, fluff

pt. 1 | pt.3

 

In the corner of his eye, he can see you picking at your fingers. Your sharp nails do unnecessary damage to your fragile hands. 

He knew you were worried for Feyre, ever since she’d been taken to the spring court you’d been on edge. 

It went beyond a loyal subject worrying about her High Lady. You fretted for Feyre like you would Amren, or Rhys, or Mor, or Cassian.

Though it was endearing in a way, Azriel didn’t like the way that worry manifested. The way you unknowingly damaged yourself. Your bottom lip was split open from gnawing on it, the skin on your fingers was peeled back and inflamed, and dark circles found their place under your eyes from sleepless nights. Unable to really rest when your friend was in the jaws of the spring beast. 

His shadows reach for you, demanding to be with you. 

He let a few of them loose, watching as they traveled to you instantly. One settled at your hands, weaving between each of your fingers and curling around your wrist. Another rested on your shoulder, brushing your face. The others couldn’t decide where to settle, traveling over your body frantically as they tried to comfort you. 

The shadowsinger was about to pull them back, but as soon as they felt his pull they settled in whichever place they could. Nuzzling against you. Desperate to stay with you, comfort you. 

Azriel found it amusing, and so utterly relatable. 

He forces his attention back to the papers on his desk. Which was more than a struggle.

It was an impossible task, staring at building diagrams and reading reports from his spies, when the most magnificent woman he’d ever known sat not three feet from him. 

Then he felt your eyes on him, and he knew there was no point even trying. He wouldn’t be able to focus. 

He meets your gaze and arches a perfect brow. 

You wanted to ask him something. That much was obvious. But you hesitated, you didn’t know if he would say yes. 

“What is it?” 

You glanced down at your hands, then up at him, then back down at your hands. “May I go see Rhys?” Your voice is small as you ask.  

When you heard the shadowsinger sigh you knew what the answer would be. 

Azriel ran a hand through his hair as he watched you.

You had been asking that a lot recently, and at first he allowed it. He saw no harm in you sitting with his brother, helping him when he needed help, listening when he checked in on Feyre through their bond. He knew his brother didn’t mind, he understood your anxiety and shared it with you tenfold. But Rhysand had a lot to deal with, so for that reason, Azriel shook his head. 

“Rhys is very busy.” He starts, extending an open hand toward you. Smile tugging at his lips when you walk around the desk and place your hand in his. “Feyre is strong, she can handle herself.” He assures you as he pulls you to stand between his legs, letting his hands soothe your body. Letting his shadows join him.

But he can tell by how tense you were that his assurance wasn’t helping. 

His fingers thread through your hair. “You want to help Feyre, is that it?” His thumb brushed over your jaw as you nod. “Why don’t you pay her sisters a visit? I’m sure that would ease some of her stress, to know that you’re there for them like you were for her.” 

He watched some light enter your eyes and almost smiled in victory. You were so enthralled with the idea, you tried to run out of his office to visit them right at that moment. He caught you, pulling you back against him until you sat in his lap. “Tomorrow.” He breathed. 

You leaned into him, coaxed by his hands. Sighing as his mouth plants wet kisses down your neck, shivering when you feel his tongue come out to lick over your pulse.

Azriel let himself get lost in you. In feeling you against him. In bathing in your scent. 

He doesn’t let himself second guess his suggestion, even though there was a very reasonable voice in his head that was kicking him. A voice that berated him for being so foolish. That screamed to just let you see Rhys. That begged to keep you far, far away from Nesta Acheron.

But that voice is drowned out by his need for you. 

He groans when you turn around in his lap, straddling him, shimmering black dress riding up your thighs. His hands immediately find purchase on them, squeezing. While yours tangle in his hair.

You pant, lips parted as your eyes run over him. Stopping at his lips, his eyes, his mouth, his neck, the hands that squeezed your thighs when you looked at them. You were mesmerized by him. 

You needed him. Gods, you needed him.

He kissed you like a starved beast. You moaned when his tongue brushed over the roof of your mouth, eliciting a hum from him. His hands slid up to your hips so he could grind you against him, hiking your dress up with them. 

You feel him harden beneath you.

“What do you want?” He asks against your lips, kissing them again, then kissing along your jaw, and then kissing back down your neck. Latching on to the spot that had your hands gripping his hair, your thighs tightening around his hips. 

“I…” You try, but words won’t form, only sounds. 

He parts with your neck to lean his head against yours. Looking in your eyes. Pulling back a bit when you move to kiss him. Hands now holding your hips still against him, torturing you with the feeling of him pressed against you.

 Your eyes plead with him, your sharp nails almost digging into his scalp as you lost yourself, and he can’t stop the smirk of pure satisfaction from spreading across his face. “Tell me what you want.”

You shudder when you feel him twitch underneath you. “Please.” His hands squeeze your hips. “Please. Use me.” 

The groan that left his mouth had to be the most sinful thing you’d ever heard.  

*****

Anxiety chews on your mind, spits it out, and chews it back up again. You wring your shaking hands. 

Before you was the door that separated you from the Acheron sisters. 

You knew of them, knew what they were like from what Feyre had told you. And now that you were thinking about it, you didn’t want to help them. Not for their sake. 

But for Feyre… You’d started coming to terms with the fact that you’d do just about anything for her. 

However, that didn’t stop your heart from beating so fast you were afraid it would fail.

Azriel’s hands rest on your upper arms and he leans down to your ear. “Breathe.” You absentmindedly lean into him, relishing in the feeling of his lips brushing your ear. His breath fanning across your cheek.

“If you can’t handle this we’ll go back.” He says, making it very obvious that he wouldn’t mind curling back up in bed with you. You exhale a shaky breath as his hand slowly slides over your breast, your nipple hardens under the silky fabric of your dress and he traces it with his finger. You were seriously debating it. 

But your need to help in some way, to do something useful wins. 

“I can handle it.” You say, sounding not at all sure of yourself. 

But he listens, moving his hands to rest back on your arms. Thumbs drawing calm circles. 

You give yourself a moment to breathe. Leaning your head back against his chest. Feeling your stomach flip when his lips press against your head.

When you were finally ready he opened the door for you. You took one more futile deep breath, all the air in the world wouldn’t be able to tame your emotions, then walked in with a friendly smile plastered on your face. 

You immediately wished you’d accepted his offer to go back to bed when the harsh eyes of the oldest Acheron sister settled on you. There was no mistaking who was who. 

“What are you?” 

Her words were like a physical blow. Her voice, colder than ice. You step back bumping into Azriel’s chest.  

He rests a hand on your shoulder as if to say, we can still go back. But you’d made your choice, you were here to offer your help. If they didn’t want it, then fine, but you would still offer it.

“A friend,” You manage to say. Her cruel gaze felt like a physical weight on your being. So scrutinizing, so full of hate. It’d been a while since someone cast eyes like that your way. Azriel had been careful to make sure of that. “Of Feyre’s.” 

Her stare narrows on you. Drinking you in. You watch her gaze snag on your pointed teeth. You close your mouth. Whatever you were about to say dying in your throat. 

“Some friend.” 

Azriel glared at Nesta, the warning clear on his face. Say no more. He puts a hand on your lower back, guiding you to where the other sister sat, on a chair in front of a window. 

The weight of Nesta's stare never left you.

But when you see Elaine, all of it ceases to matter.

All thoughts left your brain. Not unlike how you got sometimes with Azriel—when all the pleasure became too much—but also completely different. It wasn’t Azriel guiding you now. 

It was what lived inside you, the writhing magic that was always thrumming under your skin. 

Your brain doesn’t register how the girl looks, hollow; as if someone scooped all the life out of her. Your brain doesn’t register a thing except the irresistible pull. 

You could feel it, or her, calling to you. Beckoning you closer. 

You couldn’t refuse. 

When your mind came back to your body, you stood directly in front of Elaine. Your palm cupping her face. 

Then you felt something awful slither into your head. It slipped through the crevices of your mental barriers and crawled into a dark corner of your mind. Hiding from you, even though you could feel it watching.

Nausea overcame you. You snatch your hand back like she burned you. Shuffling back toward Azriel who looked at you with concern.

Then Elaine's eyes closed. Nesta rushed to her sister as she went unconscious. Almost falling out of her chair. The older Acheron managed to catch her in time with help from Azriel’s shadows. 

You turned to Azriel. “I want to go.” Your words barely a whisper.

His eyes widen when he sees the fear on your face. The horror. His shadows encompass you, providing your body with a cover, a shield. 

“What did you do?!” Nesta shouted through pants of fatigue, having just lugged her sister to bed. You gripped Azriel’s shirt and he held you close to him as he led you out. Away from the screaming woman. “What did you do to my sister?!” 

***** 

“What happened?” 

You swallowed at your High Lord, glancing at Azriel. For what? You didn’t know. Help? Comfort maybe? Whatever it may be you didn’t receive it. All you got was a nod in Rhysand’s direction. 

So you turn back, struggling to find your words under his serious gaze. Not harsh, but very, very serious. “I don’t know. She looked so tired… I just—It felt like she was calling to me.” Trying not to think about that thing you could still feel hiding. Still, feel looking at you with eyes you couldn’t see.

He waved for you to continue. 

“She’s fine.” You say, and somehow find yourself completely sure of those words. Though you had watched her pass out with your own eyes. Knew it was your doing. 

“How do you know that? This is different. Even Azriel said he’s never seen you do something like that before.” You look down at your hands, picking at the already torn skin. 

You don’t dare look up when you feel Rhys rise from his seat. Feel him walk around his desk until he’s in front of you. It's when he speaks that you feel the need to meet his stare.

He holds a hand over your head. “May I?” 

Azriel steps forward. Looking as if he were about to protest. Rhys shoots him a look that makes him stop. 

Rhys needed to know what happened, to make sure you didn't harm his mate's sister. The bond took control of his instincts. Your word wouldn't suffice.

You’d never deny your High Lord a request. Never deny any of your friends a request. You never had before, Azriel always had to step in and do it for you. 

So when you stiffly shook your head no, well, to say they were shocked would be an understatement.

Your whole body was tense as if just the act of refusing took everything out of you. Required every bone, every muscle, and every bit of air in your body.

But you couldn’t risk that thing infecting Rhys. Not when you didn’t know what it was. Not when you could feel its hungry stare. 

You held your breath until Rhysand’s hand dropped to his side.

Your felt physically ill. The weight of what you just did settling on you. You stiffly turned to Azriel.

“I want to go.” You said for the second time that day. 

Azriel’s brows dipped as he looked at you, worry covering his features. His shadows were restless, flicking with agitation as they too struggled to see you so bothered. 

He glances at Rhys but the High Lord gives him a look of sympathy. “I need to speak with you.” 

The shadowsinger’s jaw clenched. Wanting nothing more than to refuse, to point out the state you were in even though it was as clear as day. 

But he couldn’t say no to his brother, not after all he’d done for them. 

He walks you to the office door, turning you to face him before you can leave. He leaned down and pressed a tender kiss to your head. His words were nothing but breath against your ear. A whisper for only you to hear. “Go to bed. I’ll join you soon.” But you didn't walk away, looking unsure, nervous. “Go.” 

Your only consolation, as you left, were the shadows that parted with him and linked with you. 

Once you were far enough down the hall the High Lord spoke. “What was she thinking?” He paced in front of his desk. “She knows her magic is dangerous… did she even read those books Helion sent?” He swallowed as he remembered the limited information those three books had, the only books that made any mention of dreamwalkers. 

“Of course, she read them, you asked her too.” Azriel said, bite in his tone. Making Rhys sigh and stop his pacing. The High Lord sends an apologetic look to his brother as he sits on the front of his desk. “She wasn’t thinking,” Azriel says after a few moments of silence. 

Rhys raised a brow, silently telling him to elaborate. 

The shadowsinger leans back, remembering that look on your face. A look he’d seen many times, but never in a public setting, and you never moved on your own.  “She was in a trance.”

“Elaine could’ve done something to her.” Rhys thinks aloud, making Azriel straighten. 

Did she curse you? They still had no idea what gifts the cauldron bestowed upon the Acheron sisters. The last thing he wanted was for you to be on the receiving end of those gifts. 

Both Illyrian men sat in worry. 

“I’m sorry, I suggested she visit them. I thought maybe she’d click with them like she did Feyre.” Azriel says, running a hand down his face. 

Rhys shook his head. “Don’t be sorry. I know she wants to help. And not everyone can be as charming as Feyre.” At that, the brothers shared a strained smile. 

“How is she?” 

Rhys let out a deep breath as he picked imaginary lint off his clothes. “Alive.” 

Azriel couldn’t imagine how he’d act if you were in enemy territory, the thought making him tense, body itching to be near you. He’d die before he’d let that happen. 

“She’ll be home soon.” Azriel offers Rhys the words of comfort, even though they wouldn't do much.

Before Rhys could reply shadows scurried under the door rushing to Azriel.

The shadowsinger’s face went pale at their whispers. He shot up from his seat. “[name].” 

Then a loud bang was heard followed by a scream of bloody murder. 

The two males were rushing out of the room and running through the halls of the house within a split second. Somewhere along the way Cassian had joined them, shirtless and sweaty. Having rushed out of the training room the moment he heard the bang.

More bangs sound, but none as loud as the first one. And no more screams follow.  

Azriel found himself wishing for you to scream. If you were screaming you were breathing. 

He burst through the door of your shared chambers, almost knocking it down. He didn't stop to stare at the sight before him like his brothers did. There was no time to pause, not when you were being shoved into the tub by Hybern soldiers, their jagged nails gashing your beautiful skin. Their faces were unnatural and barely formed. Some were faceless, just flat skin and dark empty holes where their eyes and mouths should've been. 

Stood behind you was the disfigured form of the King of Hybern himself. His body was reconstructed by the nightmare, making his fae features more monstrous. More fitting for his character.

The evil king's smile stretched from ear to ear as you thrashed under the cold water. 

Azriel shoved his way through, ripping you from their arms and dragging you out of the tub. But the soldiers didn’t stop. Still reaching for you with their long slender fingers. 

Tears flowed from your closed eyes, your body twitching and shaking as you were tortured both in your mind and outside it. 

“Rhys!” Azriel shouted springing the High Lord into action. He rushed over, dodging the grabbing arms before setting both hands on either side of your head and forcing you to wake. 

Your eyes snapped open, gulping in as much air as possible. The figures dissipated into thin air. Like a flame being snuffed out. 

You squirmed away from the hands of your High Lord. Pushing against the firm body you adored so much.

You grabbed Azriel, holding him tight. So tight he wouldn’t be able to leave you again. Too afraid to worry about your bare body and the fact that both Cassian and Rhysand could see. Too afraid to notice the other person who stood at the doorway with wide eyes. Too afraid to do anything but hold him.

“Shhh. I’m here now. I’m here.” He held you tighter as your body shook with silent sobs. “I’m here. I’m here.” 

You know what happened now. What that thing was. Gripping Azriel tighter as the knowledge weighed on your brain. 

You tensed when he lifted your shivering body into the outstretched towel Cassian held. Azriel pulls you close to him when you recoil away from his brother's gentle touch.

Cassian watched Azriel wrap the towel around you. Heart heavy as you clung to his brother. A look of pure dread etched on your face, accompanied by a stream of never-ending tears. 

 You’re vaguely aware of Rhys rummaging through your drawers in the background. Vaguely aware of Azriel lifting you once more. Cradling you against him as he carried you to the bed. 

He took the medical supplies from Rhys and then asked his brothers to leave. They hesitantly obliged, taking the shocked Nesta Acheron with them and closing the slightly damaged door.

He lays you down on the bed, backing up a bit to open the first aid kit but you lurch for him. Arms tightening around his neck. 

“I’m not going anywhere.” He says, wishing he never had to say such words to you. “I’m right here with you.” Feeling his chest split in half when you reluctantly let him go. Bottom lip quivering. 

His hands are softer than usual as they patch you up. Frown deepening at every single scratch, and bruise he saw. His fingers brush over an already forming bruise on your waist. Bile rose in his throat as the image of those horrid hands grabbing and piercing your smooth skin filled his mind.

“I took it from her.” 

Your broken confession drew his attention away from the bruise and to your scared eyes. He felt helpless as he stared into them, he should've never left you. He cradled your face, thumbing away your tears only for more to take their place. He brushed those away too. 

“That nightmare. I took it from her.” 

next→

#acotar #azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger #rhys acotar #nesta archeron #azriel x you #cassian acotar

[ma1dmer]

Call of Duty - Vladimir Makarov NSFW

the first time I went on a date with a slavic man my mother turned to me and told me "I didn't immigrate, for you to be going out with Ivan from the village" anyways, here is ivan from the village

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex): surprisingly he talks, he'll go on and on about the small things in his day to day, his shitty day, the things he's seen since he last saw you, his plans for the future ,especially if you speak his language, in the darkness of your room pressed against each other naked like that, he almost opens up to you

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s): he loves legs, he is a man who can appreciate a good high heel to elongate them, loves fucking you in the tights and heels combo, very particular about them too, he sees you walking around in a skirt with a slit up the thigh and heels and he's pulling you to him, asking if this is his present

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically): in the heat of the moment he's so into the idea of cumming on you, messing up that pretty face of yours or leaving his mark on you in a way, but the second that post nut clarity hits he is absolutely disgusted, quickly throws something for you to clean up with while wiping his hand

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs): he is a bit of a masochist, its just one of those things he'll never admit and you better not bring them up at any point in any conversation, but it gets him so riled up when you have the balls to slap him back, he doesn't encourage your behavior outside of very specific moments in the bedroom though, it's rare for him to actually allow it, but you can immediately tell when he's in one of those moods, he'll be lost in the feeling of you wrapped around his cock and suddenly yank your hand to wrap around his throat and growl at you to go on

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?): a man with a lot of experience, mostly anonymous hook ups here and there, so it's tough to get him to get used to an actual serious commited relationship, but it's nice, he won't complain with having someone to always warm his bed or wait for him to come back home

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying): the basics, on your back holding your legs as he fucks you, he'll kiss your forehead or cheek growling filth against your sweaty skin, if you turn away from his kisses he forces you to look at him, gets very petty about that

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.): serious and very very intense

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.): all natural, not particularly hairy but he doesn't do anything to it, he always smells very very strongly of cologne as well

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect): not exactly romantic, if you keep him content and his bed warm, he spoils you outside the bedroom, that's his way of showing he cares and his commitment to you, but he keeps his distance in general, he is a greedy greedy man, he wants your full attention but won't give you his unless he is forced to do so

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon): before he thinks of jacking off he first texts you, if you don't answer his texts, he calls you, asks you if you are busy, not really caring for any answer other than "no, my love, what do you want?" ,he'll be stroking himself through his pants as he asks you to come over or tells you he's about to pop in for a bit, if you happen to be busy he'd rather take a shower and wait for when when he can next see you again

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks): power dynamics, impact play, choking etc

L = Location (favorite places to do the do): he keeps his private business behind closed doors, can't stand the idea of other men ogling you

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going): a short skirt, high heels, red lipstick, play a bit of dress up for him, he's a simple man who can still enjoy the simple pleasures of life

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs): he does not share, he gets angry with you when another man looks at you, can't even comprehend the thought of bringing someone else in the bedroom, if you even suggest it, you are out, he's gone, and he's fucking every single woman within a 100 mile radius as revenge

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.): loves receiving, he is not particularly gentle with it though, he likes things very specifically so he orders you around or straight up moves your head like his personal fleshlight, he also enjoys having a finger or two in him while you give him head, won't talk about it outside the bedroom, but always lifts his hips up or straight up moves your hand to his ass when he fucks your mouth to let you do your thing

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.): rough and fast, he'll take his time to prepare you but once he's inside he's almost single mindedly chasing his own pleasure, you have to keep up with him and take matters into your own hand, enjoys the show greatly

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.): not a big fan, if he is at work, he is at work, you don't intrude during that time and he hates nothing more than an impatient brat

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.): not really, he likes things very particularly done, its difficult to convince him to do something new, he's not unmovable but if you insist too much he gets stubborn and will keep denying you

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?): it really depends on the context, how long since he last saw you? how pent up is he? after a success or a failure? how generous is he feeling that night? is he spending the night or needs to fly out in a couple of hours? everything moves with his schedule

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?): he's quite possessive and very self absorbed, he doesn't like the idea of you using them by yourself when he's gone, but can definitely be convinced with something he can control for you

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease): he is pretty straight forward, isn't so much a tease as he has a bit of a mean streak, he enjoys the little jump you make when you think he's gonna spank you ,but instead he just gently cups your ass or thighs, will smirk and ask you if you are scared of him or something, tells you to relax and stop being so tense, even though you have legit reasons to be worried

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.): grunts and groans and a lot, a lot of dirty talk, especially if he sees it gets a rise out of you, you'd expect him to be quieter but no not really, he makes these deep guttural grunts as he fucks you and curses up a storm, especially in russian

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character): he is a pussy slapper, he eats it with precision and great enjoyment, but he's so mean about it, will coo at you in russian when you flinch at his touch

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes): average length but very thick with a slightly thinner crown, very hard to adjust to

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?): very average, it's common to send you off with a wave of his hand if he is busy, but when the need arises in him he does expect you to drop everything for him

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards): this man is a little spoon, he will never admit it or ask, but every night he turns his back to you and expects you to hug him at some point

#call of duty #call of duty smut #call of duty x reader #makarov smut #makarov #makarov x reader #vladimir makarov #vladimir makarov smut #vladimir makarov x reader #modern warfare #modern warfare smut #modern warfare 3 smut #modern warfare 3 x reader #call of duty modern warfare #cod mw3 #cod mw2 #cod smut #cod mw3 smut #.writing

[readerthatreadsss]

Worth The Wait | Steven Grant

(Inspired by the song of the same title by Kali Uchis)

Pairing: Steven Grant x fem!reader

Word Count: 6.2k

Summary: You and Steven have been roommates for a while now. But one night after being stood up by yet another guy in a string of dates gone wrong, Steven offers you some support...which sparks an interesting chain of events.

Warnings[18+ activities MDNI]: sub! (ish) Steven, dom! (ish) reader, fools in love, friends/roommates to lovers, mentions of drunk reader (but not drunk when they actually have sex, you'll see), crying (reader's drunk and starts venting for a bit, that's all), unprotected p in v sex (cloak the joker before you poke her), oral sex (steven and r receiving), Steven doubting himself mid-sex, assertive reader and awkward Steven! , choking (r receiving), riding, creampie, barely edited cause I'm really fuckin tired.

A/N: Hi. Don't ask me where I found the time or motivation to write this shit when school started back a month ago. The idea just popped into my head and my fingers didn't stop moving once I opened a draft. Note, I have a tall fem! reader x Steven in my drafts to finish so don't think I forgot!

"Steeeeven," knock knock knock, "STEVENNNN," knock knock knock−

Steven's brows furrowed beneath his reading glasses at the sound of your voice coming from outside your shared apartment door. Concern as well as confusion sprang through him instantly. You sounded drunk. Which he was sure to be the case seeing as you were sloppily knocking at the door rather than opening it with your keys.

He quickly shut the book he was reading and removed his glasses before making his way over to the door in fear that your next call of his name would wake the entire building.

Unfortunately, he opened the door at the very moment you launched your hand forward to knock once more. This caused you to tumble through the door with a drunken yelp. But Steven caught you in his arms before your body could hit the ground.

You looked up at him with a lazy smile and hooded eyes. "Thanks, Stevie bear," you hiccuped, using both hands to cling onto one of his very defined biceps. You had never realized how big and firm they were before that moment.

"You're welcome," Steven replied worriedly. He swiftly shut the door with his foot and used your grip on his arm to bring you standing back on your feet. "Y/n what the bloody hell happened to your date?"

You rolled your eyes at his question, kicking off your heels and making your way over to the couch without somehow falling again. "See now, Steven," you paused and pointed at him drunkenly, "it can't be a date if the said date doesn't even bother to show up!" you explained.

Steven sighed deeply at your explanation as he sat on the other end of the couch. This wasn't the first time this had happened to you—or him for that matter—but he could never understand why. You were easily one of the most beautiful women in London, and definitely one of the smartest, (your framed Ph.D. in psychology hanging over the television was evidence of that). You were the full package and more. Any man would be lucky to have you.

But the men of London were clearly morons if they kept standing you up or acting like complete knobs to you on your dates.

He would never do that to you. But he's seen photos of your past dates. A woman like you was way out of his league and would never go for someone like him, anyone with eyes could see that.

"How much have you had to drink?" Steven suddenly asked you.

You raised 3 fingers to the best of your ability. "Six," you answered before bursting into a fit of giggles at Steven's expression.

"Gosh, y/n, you're absolutely clobbered," he grabbed a blanket from the arm of the couch and spread it over where your short skin-tight dress was riding up your thighs.

"Well I didn't lie," you sat up abruptly, throwing the blanket off your lap and turning to face Steven and sit as crosslegged as your dress would allow, "Three of the drinks were margaritas...the other three were shots of vodka though," you admitted softly as if it were some secret for only yours and Steven's ears.

"Do you have work in the morning?" Steven questioned gently, picking up the blanket and handing it back to you. Your dress was riding up with every slight movement you made, which meant more of your thighs being exposed to him. Despite this, Steven wouldn't dare look anywhere except your eyes.

"Nope." You threw the blanket back on the floor. The night was pretty warm, you don't understand why Steven keeps giving it to you.

"Do you want me to make you some coffee or tea?"

"Yup."

Steven looked at you in question for a few seconds. "Which one?" he prodded, fighting back a smile at your muddled state.

You moved closer and narrowed your eyes, "Which one of what?" you questioned, truly confused, before breaking out into another fit of drunken giggles that caused you to momentarily tumble forward and land your hands on Steven's thighs.

"Coffee it is then," Steven answered for you, his voice traveling up an octave. He then carefully moved your hand from his thighs, trying to ignore the chills your touch sent up his spine, and hightailed it to the kitchen to put on the percolator for you.

You tilted your head as he walked away, noting how quickly he left.

When Steven returned with your cup of coffee (with cream and no sugar just how you liked it), he found you seated in the same spot but with his blanket draped over your head and body while soft sniffles and sobs met his ears.

He placed your cup on the table nearby and carefully approached your figure on the couch. Steven reached for the blanket and slowly removed it from your body.

"Why are you crying, love?" he sweetly asked once your face came into view.

"Because I'm a mess," you sniffled, using a hand to wipe the trail of tears falling from your eyes.

Steven's head tilted in disbelief at your words. "You don't really believe that, do you?"

"Yes I do," you nodded fervently, "It's why my dates have sucked for the past 2 months, it's why I got passed over for that goddamn promotion at work last week, and it's why you can't stand being around me for longer than 3 minutes these days."

Steven was taken aback by your words. You thought he couldn't stand to be around you? That's impossible.

"You practically sprinted to the kitchen!" you added after a few moments of silence.

"To make you coffee," Steven protested, gesturing to the cup lying untouched nearby.

"I saw your face," you looked down at where your hands lay in your lap.

Steven swallowed harshly. "Y/n."

You ignored his call for your attention.

"Look at me," he came closer and entangled his hands with your own in your lap, immediately causing you to look up at him with tear-stained eyes, "You are not a mess," he softly yet sternly said to you.

"Yes I am−"

"No. You are not," he interrupted your arguing, "Your dates? They're all losers for letting you slip through their hands. And if a few bad dates is fate's way of making you wait to find the one, then I think that's well worth the holdup, yeah?"

You chewed on your bottom lip anxiously before nodding in agreement.

"And as for my behavior earlier, it was−" Steven paused with a sigh fumbling for a sensible excuse, "it's your perfume."

You pulled a face that would have made Steven laugh under normal circumstances. "My perfume? You hate my perfume?"

Steven swallowed harshly. He hated lying. He wasn't even good at it. But convincing you that he couldn't bear your perfume was easier than admitting that he just couldn't handle the way your hands felt on his thighs or the way his entire body heated up when you leaned closer to him. "Yup. The smell was too much for me," he fibbed.

You rested your head in your palms, pouting slightly. "But you're the only reason I wear this perfume, Steven," you confessed, barely audible.

Steven's face fell. "What?"

"You told me that you liked it when I moved in and from then I kept buying it just because you liked it."

Steven's heart swelled at your admission. He felt like an asshole. He was no better than the losers you'd been going on dates with.

You continued to speak. You could feel words preparing to leave your lips that have been eating at you for a while, now guided by your lowered inhibitions. "And I didn't only mean just now. These past few weeks you can barely look me in my eyes, or be near me, Steven. What am I doing wrong?" your voice broke with your last words.

Steven had seen you cry a few times before. But this time was different. The look on your face was heart-wrenching. He couldn't believe that he made you feel like this.

Because he was having trouble dealing with his own feelings for you, he made you think he hated you...when it was the complete opposite.

"There's nothing wrong with you. It's all my fault," Steven said, breaking away from your gaze, feeling it pierce through him.

"I'm the one who was dumb enough to fall in love with you..." he added, only to look up and see you passed out against the arm of the couch.

A part of him was saddened that you fell asleep before hearing his confession. But another was grateful and profoundly unprepared for your inevitable rejection.

Steven looked at you for a few more seconds before carefully picking you up—smiling to himself when you curled into his chest—and carrying you to your bedroom.

° ° ° ° ° ° ° °

You woke up in a slight daze...and in someone else's bed.

It took a few glances around the room for you to piece together that you were in Steven's room.

And then all of last night's events came back to mind, seeping in and clearing the fog that your excessive alcohol consumption had sired;

Your failed date. Coming home and falling into Steven's arms. Saying way too much to Steven. Steven's last words before your body shut down.

Steven.

Steven.

Steven.

"Oh God," you mumbled, cradling your face in your hands.

Eventually, you pulled yourself out of the bed and stumbled into the bathroom for a shower. You thanked whatever higher power was at work that Steven was still asleep on the couch when you padded through the living room.

But when you finished showering and exited the bathroom, you were hit with the smell of freshly brewed coffee. You poked your head into the living room to make sure Steven was still in the kitchen before running a path straight to your room and getting dressed.

After throwing on one of your old university crew necks and the first shorts you could get your hands on (which happened to be very short ones), you heard a knock at your door followed by Steven's voice.

"Y/N? I have a cup of green tea and some painkillers here...thought you'd need them."

You found yourself smiling at the sound of his voice, something that was becoming more common in recent weeks. What did you do to deserve a man like Steven in your life?

You quickly moved to open the door and let Steven in. "Hey, Steven," you greeted him with a small smile.

He released a nervous chuckle as he presented a cup and two pills to you. "Good morning."

You took them happily, bringing them to your night table. "I'm not actually feeling very hungover," you said to him, turning to sit on your bed.

"Really? That's surprising...considering last night," Steven replied, taking a hesitant step further into your room.

"Yeah must be my tolerance and all that," you shrugged, taking interest in how Steven had yet to meet your eyes since you opened the door.

A beat of silence passed between you while you took a sip of your tea. "Steven, you can sit," you softly spoke, gesturing to your bed.

"Oh, sure," Steven took a seat at the farthest edge of your bed, maintaining a more than comfortable space between you.

"How'd I end up in your bed this morning?" you suddenly questioned. You were genuinely curious, but the reaction it garnered from Steven was more than worth it.

After a brief clear of his throat, Steven answered, "Well you sorta climbed into my bed in the middle of the night, gave me quite a scare actually, and I wanted to give you space to rest so I let you have my bed and I slept in the couch."

"Oh, I'm sorry," you frowned, a tinge of embarrassment seeping in, "Why didn't you sleep in my bed?"

"Because..." laying in your bed that smells flawlessly like you would've sent him into cardiac arrest- "the couch is more comfortable."

You nodded in understanding, placing your half-empty teacup back on the table.

"If you uh need anything," Steven stood up from your bed, slowly walking backward to the door, "just shout," he said as he turned to open the door.

"Did you mean it?"

Steven halted in place at your words, his back still facing you.

You slid off your bed and approached his oddly still figure.

Steven's throat ran dry. There's no way you could have actually heard him. Right? "What?" is all he managed to say.

You walked past him and used a hand to close the door, coming to stand in front of him. You needed to look at his face. Living with Steven for a year has taught you that he wasn't a man of many words but his face said more than enough when he couldn't. Drunk you couldn't utilize your psych degree the night before, but sober you sure could at that moment.

"Did you mean it?" you repeated, "When you said you fell in love with me?"

Steven's jaw slackened when he met your stare, that feeling of being pierced by your gaze returning. "I-"

Your eyes narrowed as you took a step closer to him, now being close enough for his nervous breaths to fan across your lips. "Because if you meant it then I would tell you that. I think..." you paused and looked away for a moment, "No, I know that I love you too."

Steven's hooded brown eyes widened. He blinked a few times, trying to will himself to wake up if this was a dream.

You bit back a small laugh at his expression before you continued. "I love how willing you were to rent some small-time therapist your extra bedroom because you heard her crying in the corner of a coffee shop that she'd been kicked out by her stupid ex-boyfriend. I love the mugs you buy me every month because you saw them and they reminded you of me. I love how you watch shitty action movies with me after every bad date I have because you want to take my mind off them. I love how much you care about...everything really. I love you, Steven Grant," an enlightened smile rested on your face as you spoke, "and I'm sorry that I spent the past year thinking everything you made me feel was platonic when the truth was that you made me feel things that no one else has. I'm an idiot Steven-"

"No," Steven's first word came, a relieved smile accompanying it, "You are not an idiot. You are the smartest person I've ever met. Smarter than me, that's for sure," at that, you both laughed, "I've spent this whole year thinking that you would never see me as anything more than your weird, boring roommate...and turns out you loved me this whole time," he ended in a soft whisper, shocked by his own conclusion. Steven found his eyes drifting down to your lips and you immediately took note of it.

You exhaled deeply before closing the gap between you and Steven, meeting his lips in a bold kiss.

Initially stunned, Steven sunk into your lips soon after, gently bringing his hands up to rest on the sides of your face.

Your brain fogged as Steven devoured your lips, an unusual confidence taking over him. You wrapped your hands around his neck and smiled into the kiss, allowing Steven to slip his tongue past your lips, tasting more of you and pulling a moan from your chest.

Steven pulled away first, feeling himself enter a state that he wouldn't dare himself to in your presence. You bit back a whine when his lips left yours, looking up at him in confusion.

"We don't have to do this if you don't want to," he spoke, taking a step away from you.

You licked your lips and stepped towards him. "Steven, trust me, I want to do this. I want to do a lot more than this actually," you pulled his waist flush against your body, drawing a shared moan from you both when his growing bulge pressed against your stomach.

Steven's hands flew up to grab the back of your neck and your jaw. He softly muttered your name, as a warning more than anything else.

You leaned in and pressed a kiss against the corner of his lips. "If you say no, we will stop this right now and go eat breakfast. But if you say yes, we are gonna stay here and I'm gonna let you do very bad things to my body."

Steven swallowed harshly. "God, yes," he replied, failing to swallow back a whimper at the implication of your words.

Your hands squeezed his waist as you moved back to look at his face fully. "I'm sorry, I didn't hear that Stevie," you smirked.

Steven looked down at you with adoration clear in his eyes. He couldn't believe this was really about to happen. He used his hold on your neck to pull your lips crashing into his. This kiss was a lot more hungrier than the first, with Steven now making his intentions much clearer.

"I'll take that as a yes," you grinned between kisses.

Steven groaned his agreement as he continued to kiss you.

You used your grip on his waist to push him back towards your bed, effectively breaking your kiss and causing him to land on the edge of your bed with a grunt.

Steven looked up at you through his lashes in awe as you approached him. He watched keenly as you removed your top, wearing nothing underneath, before moving to straddle his thighs. Steven made a move to touch your chest before stopping his shaky hands midair and looking at you in question.

You gently held Steven's chin up and smiled down at him. "Steven you can touch me," you reassured him. Even in an intimate moment like this, he was ever the gentleman...

Steven indulged with a sheepish smile and brought both his palms to each of your breasts. Unable to help himself, Steven dove in and took one of your nipples in his mouth, swirling his tongue around the hardened bud.

"Fuck, Steven," you moaned, eyes slamming shut at how good it felt. Your words only seemed to egg him on further as Steven switched to your other breast, his lips and tongue moving against it with more enthusiasm.

Your hands at the back of his neck grabbed fistfuls of his curls while his ministrations against your chest pulled more moans and whines from your lips.

Some time after, you pulled Steven's lips away from your breasts and met them in a searing kiss, pressing your clothed cunt down against his erection. "Shit," Steven lowly cursed, bringing his hands to your waist to grind you down further against his bulge.

You obliged with a moan, grinding in Steven's lap harder. "Tell me what you want, Steven," you whispered against his lips.

Steven's hands squeezed your waist harshly when your lips began sucking against his throat. He could barely put together thoughts at the moment, much less words.

You trailed a hand down to the waistband of Steven's sweats and slowly reached under it for his cock. You swallowed a moan when your hand traced his full length and girth. "You've been holding out on me Steven," you chuckled against his neck.

Steven blushed furiously at your words. "Thank you?" he responded awkwardly, barely functioning with your hand rubbing along his cock.

You chuckled once again, pulling away from his neck to look at him. "You're so pretty," you said, causing another wave of red to hit Steven's cheeks.

"No one's ever said that to me before," he admitted softly.

"Well that's okay, cause I want to be the only one who makes you blush like this," you grinned brushing a stray curl from his forehead, "I bet your cock is just as pretty," your hand picked up speed beneath Steven's pants, "Can I see it? Please?"

Steven nodded enthusiastically. "Anything you want," he said with a desperation that had your pussy throbbing with need. You briefly lifted your hips allowing Steven to clumsily slide off his sweatpants and boxers and step out of them.

Once you returned to your position on his thighs, you looked down at his cock, the head already dripping with small beads of precum. The length was truly unexpected, as well as the girth. You would do anything to feel him inside you.

But for now, you really wanted to taste him.

Steven watched you sink to your knees before him, your eyes never straying from his.

"Are you sure you want to-"

"Steven you said anything I wanted," you paused, gliding your fingers over his length and watching it twitch in response, "And I really want to taste you. Can I suck your cock, Steven?"

Steven's breathing picked up as he took in the image before him; you on your knees, touching his dick while literally begging to suck it with a look in your eyes he could only compare to the look of a wild female tiger eyeing her freshly caught meal in the nature documentary he watched the week before.

"Please, please do," his response came soon after.

You began with a kiss to the head of his cock that made it immediately jump in your hand. You couldn't help but chuckle, and it was a sound that Steven hoped would be the last thing he heard before he left this earth. "You're so sensitive, Stevie," you cooed before pressing another kiss but to the base of his length.

Steven released a sharp moan at both of your kisses to his cock, finding himself embarrassingly close to cumming already.

"Please," he pleaded your name with a whine, "stop teasing."

You swirled your tongue around the head where precum had gathered, moaning in time with your movements and drawing yet another mewl from Steven. "Oh but Stevie, I just love hearing you say please," you teased him, looking up from where you had a hand wrapped around his base and another briefly caressing his balls.

Steven was now panting, his eyes never leaving you as you held him. He watched you slowly wrap your lips around his tip before slowly sinking down.

After reaching a little more than halfway down Steven's cock, you felt yourself gag but simply stilled instead of removing yourself completely.

"Fucking hell," Steven grunted before melding into a pathetic moan once you held your position. You eventually let up when you almost ran out of air and slowly removed your lips from his dick, your eyes meeting his with tears streaming along your face from the stretch.

You were prepared to do it once again but felt Steven's palm grab your chin before you could. "No, love, please. If you do that again I'm afraid I'm not gonna last."

Steven watched you lick your lips before shifting to trap his thumb in between your lips and softly suck on it. He couldn't stop the whine that slipped his lips at your action.

You eventually released his thumb from the confines of your mouth and came to stand over him with a smile. "Well then. Tell me what you want to do next. I'm all yours, baby, remember?"

Steven brought his hands to rest on your hips and leaned forward to press a soft kiss against your stomach. "I-uhh," his brows furrowed and he shook his head briefly as if sending away a thought.

"What is it, Steven?"

The man beneath you looked up to meet your eager eyes, suddenly confident enough to say what he wanted. "I really...really want to taste you."

You felt your breath hitch at his request. It was rare for a man to enthusiastically offer to go down on you. Though it was clear to you now that Steven was most definitely a rare man.

"You want to?" you felt your voice come out a lot more unsure than usual.

Steven's brows furrowed once again as a fleeting smile graced his lips at your response. "Of course I do, sweetheart. Do men not usually..."

You harshly exhaled. "I mean some do but I usually have to complain first or they do it cause they want me to return the favor," you admitted.

"They don't deserve you. No one does," Steven softly uttered, gazing up at you with eyes you were growing more fond of by the minute.

You quickly leaned down to meet him in a kiss in response. You didn't deserve him either.

Steven pulled you back into his lap and kissed you back eagerly. But he was the first to pull away, causing you to whine in a way that made his cock jump against your cunt. "I-I really did mean it, love, I need to taste you. Now."

You had never seen Steven so demanding. It had you throbbing in anticipation. You allowed him to lay you on your back and peel away your shorts and panties to reveal the part of you where you needed him most.

Steven looked starstruck as he examined your arousal. He moved closer and closer to your pussy, letting his warm breath fan over your glistening lips.

"Steven please-" you begged, though you couldn't finish your thought before your voice broke into a loud moan when Steven licked a stripe from your entrance to your swollen clit.

Steven closed his eyes, relishing his first taste of you. It was everything he'd quite literally dreamed of and more.

And so, he eagerly dived into your core.

Your hands flew to Steven's head working between your legs as your thighs instinctively closed around his head from the sudden wave of pleasure surging through you.

The feeling of your thighs trapping his head against your pussy was absolute bliss to Steven. He moaned into you as his tongue swirled around your clit sloppily. If he was inexperienced, you couldn't tell because every movement of his tongue brought you closer and closer to your release.

The vibrations of Steven's enjoyment drew a brief scream from your chest before you slapped a hand over your lips to silence it.

Steven finally came up for air, his lips and jaws covered in your slick. His curls were strewn along his forehead by a damp layer of sweat as his dilated pupils met your own. "C'mon. I want to hear those pretty noises you make for me, love," he said before running two of his fingers through your folds to gather some of your wetness and slowly inserting them into you.

"Oh my-STEVEN" your back arched up and off your bed as you felt immediately filled up by Steven's digits.

Steven gauged your reactions as he slowly removed his fingers before pushing them again with no resistance due to your arousal. "I've wanted this for so long, love," he began to speak as he slowly leaned down to press his lips against your clit in a kiss, "Wanted to hear you moaning my name," he sped up his fingers' movements inside you, "Wanted to taste you," he added another finger, now touching that spot inside your walls with every thrust, "You're so beautiful," he ended before fully diving back in with his tongue against your bud.

"Yes—fuck—you're so good to me baby," you finally gathered enough breath to speak while gaining a proper grip on his head. With every sharp lick or nip he'd make, you would tighten your grip on his hair and it would only spur him on further. It was only a matter of seconds from there before...

"Shit, I'm gonna cum, Steven," you called out, looking down to meet where he was already staring up at you, and speeding up his fingers and tongue's ministrations against you.

He held your stare once he felt your walls clench around his fingers and heard your moan melt into a scream.

"Fuck, fuck, FUCK," you shouted as your orgasm slammed into you thanks to Steven's eager tongue and fingers.

Steven watched your chest slow its heaving when your climax subsided and removed his fingers but couldn't stop himself from licking the remnants of your release from your folds. It was as if he was trying to work you up to another orgasm.

"Shit Steven wait," you mewled, attempting to close your legs from overstimulation. But Steven used strength you'd never known him to have to shove your legs back open and hold them in place, clearly intent on tasting every bit of what you had to offer.

Your eyes widened. "Holy fuck," you removed both your hands from Steven's head and ran them over your face and boobs. He was driving you absolutely insane. If it weren't for his grip on your legs you would be trembling beneath him.

It wasn't long before a second orgasm crept up on you, one more powerful than the last. Your lips parted in a silent scream as your climax washed over your entire body, from your thighs to your feet, to the base of your fucking spine.

Steven couldn't help but stare as he cleaned you up for the last time with his tongue. He couldn't believe he got to see this. To make you feel like this.

Your high subsided soon after and you released a sharp exhale followed by a laugh of disbelief.

Steven moved from his position on his knees before you to hover above you on your bed. "You okay, love?" he questioned in concern

You responded to his question with a satisfied grin. "I'm great, Stevie," you spoke before meeting his lips in a sweet kiss, "But..."

Steven's face fell at your words. He slowly moved from above you to lay next to you, scared to meet your eyes. "I did something wrong didn't I? Or did I forget to do something? I'm sorry-" he rambled, immediately doubting himself.

But his words died in his throat when you turned and caressed his cheek with a hand, your grin still present on your face. "You did nothing wrong," you insisted, "That was no doubt one of the best orgasms of my entire life."

Steven looked away and laughed at your confession. "You don't have to say that to make me feel better."

"I mean it, Steven," your voice grew stern, "That was fucking incredible."

Steven couldn't even formulate a response.

"What I was going to say was," you broke his silence, "I promised you could do bad things to my body and you haven't done nearly enough for me," you ended with a smirk.

Steven grunted when he felt your fingertips run along his cock.

"Don't you want to fuck me, Steven?" you questioned innocently while completely wrapping your hand around and stroking Steven's dick.

He nodded quickly, his bottom lip held between his teeth as he tried not to react to how soft your hand felt around his painfully hard cock. "I do. So badly, love."

You released him and brought a hand over to grab Steven's neck before using your grip to pull him back to his previous position above you. "Then fuck me, Steven. I need you to fuck me," you whispered.

Steven wasted no time in grabbing his length and lining himself up with your entrance. "Are you sure?" he checked in with you once more.

You jerked your hip in the direction of his cock in an effort to fill yourself up but to no avail. You were so damn desperate you didn't care how you sounded. "Yes Steven, please, I need you to fill me up. Fill me up baby, c'mon," you whined hurriedly.

"Well who am I to deny you of what you want, love?" he replied before slowly guiding himself into you.

He immediately groaned at the feeling of your walls squeezing him. "Heavens, love, you're so—aghh—tight," he grunted.

Your moans were never-ending as he sunk into you inch by inch. The stretch was briefly painful but it hurt so good you didn't care.Steven stopped halfway in and leaned down to press a kiss against your forehead. "You're taking me so well, sweetheart," he praised you.

You bit your lip at his praise. "More, Steven, keep going."

Steven obliged and fully sunk into you with one last push. Your moans mixed in the air at the sudden change. "You feel so good inside me Steven, oh my God-" you cried out.

You nearly choked on air when Steven slowly pulled out of your heat before slamming back into you.

"SHIT," you both cursed together before opening your eyes to look at each other.

"Faster, baby, I can take it I promise," you nodded, bringing your hands up to the sides of Steven's face. You even wrapped your legs around Steven's waist.

Steven took a deep breath before pulling out and rutting into you again, now establishing a pace. Which every thrust inside your cunt, Steven grazed your g-spot, effortlessly. It was as if you were built for his cock.

"Fuckin' love the way you fuck me, Steven," you mumbled as Steven set a brutal pace inside you.

Steven leaned down to press his forehead against yours as he continued to fuck you. Your breathing seemed to sync as he pulled out moan after moan from you.

His hands rested at the sides of your head but you could feel them inching closer to your neck.

Your pussy clenched around him at the thought of him choking you. Steven faltered in his thrusts in response. "Love you're squeezing me so hard I don't think I'm gonna last."

"Do it," you called out, tilting your head toward one of his hands.

"What?"

"I can see you thinking about it. Choke me, baby," your chest heaved as you felt your third orgasm of the night approaching.

Steven hesitated for a second before he stopped his thrusts and brought a shaky hand to wrap around your throat.

"I trust you, Steven," you spoke truthfully, "I want this too," you brought a hand to rest over Steven's briefly in reassurance.

Steven began roughly pounding you again with his hand now squeezing around your neck.

"Fuck yes, holy shit," you breathed out, feeling your eyes nearly roll to the back of your head with the newly added feeling of Steven's large hand wrapped around your throat. making you see stars.

Steven, although shocked by your immediate enjoyment of his secret guilty pleasure, took it as a sign to continue. So he trusted faster but made sure to maintain the same amount of pressure on your neck. He then got the idea to use his free hand to reach down and fiddle with your clit while fucking you.

You were instantly thrown over the edge. You came with as best a scream of Steven's name as you could manage with his hand still choking you. Chills ran down your spine while Steven slowed his thrusts inside you and waited for your orgasm to pass.

Eventually, you felt Steven release your neck and slowly begin to remove his cock from your cunt. You tightened your legs around his waist in protest. "Uh uh, we're not stopping till you come inside me, Steven," you demanded.

Steven loved the way you'd been taking control throughout all of this. He'd do anything you asked without a thought. "That's fine with me love," he nodded with a lopsided grin.

"Good," you deeply inhaled before using your hold on his waist to roll him onto his back, with you now straddling him.

You smiled at his shocked expression, which soon morphed into excitement. "You're bloody amazing," he grinned up at you.

You fought the heat that crawled onto your cheeks at his words and looked away with a smile. "Stop sweet talking me and fuck me, Steven."

He nodded quickly, "Yes ma'am." Steven slipped back into your entrance slowly.

But you grew impatient and fully sat down on his cock, loving how full he made you feel. Steven's cries met your ears soon after.

You grabbed his hands and placed each on one of your breasts before beginning to properly ride him. Steven heeded your directions and pawed at your chest while thrusting up to meet your hips.

His grunts soon became whimpers and whines as you rode him harder and faster, eager to make him cum.

"I'm almost there, love," he cried before sitting up and pulling you into his chest. His hands moved down to grip your waist where he guided you faster along his cock.

"There you go, Steven," you held his face against your own as his pace grew sloppy and his brown eyes slid shut.

"Cum for me, baby," you softly spoke with one last grind of your hips. Steven halted inside you with a broken sob of your name and filled you up with his warm release.

You moaned at the feeling of his spend coating your inner walls and leaned down to press a kiss to the top of his head. "You did so good Steven."

"I love you," his eyes finally opened while he panted, looking up at you with vulnerable eyes as if scared that you wouldn't feel the same after what you had just done together.

"I love you too," you replied without hesitation. You gently shoved Steven onto his back and followed suit, laying down on his chest as you gently removed his softening cock from inside you. You felt his hands move to wrap around your body soon after, bringing you further into his body.

Steven was the first to speak after some time. "I think you're the best thing that's happened to me in a really long time," he admitted, turning to look at you, not at all phased by the exhaustion in your features.

You leaned up to meet Steven in a heated kiss. He tightened his hold on you and met your lips with equal fervor. You pulled away reluctantly and looked down at his face with furrowed brows as you used a hand to trace his jaw and swollen lips. "Where have you been hiding my entire life, Steven Grant?"

"Haven't been hiding, love. I've just been here waiting for you."

° ° ° ° ° ° ° °

WHEW! This ABSOLUTELY got away from me holy shit. 6k words? yeah, not the plan at all. But hey it's definitely something considering that I haven't been able to sit down and write anything till tonight.

So I really do hope you enjoyed it.

(Lemme go look back through my requests and see what else I can cook up.)

#steven grant smut #moon knight smut #smut #fluff #marvel #imagine #oneshot #steven grant #moon boys #moon knight x reader #steven grant x you #steven grant x reader #moon knight fic #moon knight #oscar issac smut #oscar isaac #oscar isaac x reader #marvel fanfiction #fanfiction

[aurae-rori]

DR RATIO ANALYSIS

SPOILERS FOR 2.1 CONTENT!

Now, you might be saying - "Aurae, Oh No! and Are You Satisfied? are much too basic songs to analyze Dr. Ratio to! Just because he's a scholar doesn't mean that he has academic trauma!" WRONG! Before we start, I have been researching psychology for approximately six years and I plan to go into it professionally. HOWEVER, that said, I am NOT a professional (YET. One day I will be. Yay for Aurae!) so understand that everything I come to conclusions about has been analyzed with some personal judgement, personal interpretations, and this is just what I have concluded with the info that I have deconstructed from his brain. If you disagree, that's fine!

I will be pulling from my own experiences with being a "golden" and "gifted" child, as well as the experiences I've had speaking to other people who were those. I will also be pulling from my experiences of researching and seeing how people with superiority complexes work, as well as diving into how those work (from what I've seen, as well as how they conceal a lack of self-esteem).

OKAY, NOW THAT THAT LONG AHH DISCLAIMER IS OVER, ALLOW ME TO WORK MY PSYCH ENJOYER MAGIC! Let's deconstruct Dr. Ratio like a lego toy.

Let's start off with how Dr. Ratio presents himself. When you first meet him, he seems like a haughty, arrogant asshole. He likes to PRESENT himself as a stoic, superior scholar who is purely in it to win it, and I got total "*stares down at your tiny body and laughs at how you lack knowledge*" vibes at the very start, due to how he goes around calling people idiots all the time. However, he DOES lose the idgaf war, and we can very quickly see that he does care for other people, even if in his own, strange way. Dr Ratio presentation: An asshole. The reality?

His entire character is based around the idea of helping the masses. He wishes to spread knowledge through the cosmos and give people who didn't have access to it, access. He's a harsh teacher, and calling people 'idiots' is NOT the way to motivate them, but he's doing his best™.

Actually, no, I'm going to go full psych into this. Okay, so here starts the Dr. Ratio and my FATHER COMPARISONS. My father is a professor and he is often called a harsh grader by his students. However, I've spoken to him multiple times because I was curious - why is he so harsh and diligent with his grading system? The answer is - he wants them to actually learn. When he's grading, he gives them harsh marks because he wants them to know exactly where they messed up, and he's always willing to stay after hours to help students understand where they can't. My father also is an enjoyer of knowledge, and for as long as I've remembered, he has prioritized teaching me how to think critically. He wants me to be able to think for myself - and I think that's what Dr. Ratio wants, too. He wants for his students to be able to fully comprehend and absorb the information that he teaches, and although his methods are harsh, he genuinely wants to help. My father's like this too - he hates students that waste his time or aren't here because their hearts are in it. Dr. Ratio hates people who aren't taking their education seriously because knowledge is important. Knowledge is a tool, and to disregard it completely is lowkey kind of insulting - especially when there are people who weren't privileged enough to actually get it, so this isn't something that you should take for granted. Dr. Ratio despises people who take knowledge for granted.

Also, I disagree with the claims that say that Dr. Ratio hates the genius society. He shows open respect for them in his voice lines. Just check them if you need proof. Also, I'll delve into the idea of Aeons and recognition later.

Now that we’ve established that Dr. Ratio kins my dad, let’s let's tackle the 'stoic' allegations. He is LOSING the idgaf war. Like, really badly. He has a temper of a thousand suns and snaps at people frequently, despite his 'impassive' face, his tone holds a LOT of emotion. He seems to feel very deeply and has a shit ton of empathy for others - why else would he be dedicating his entire career to helping others? Of course, he doesn't express this in 'typical' ways of being openly kind - but it doesn't mean that he doesn't care for other people. In fact, he seems to be pretty good at putting himself in the shoes of others and understanding them - expressed in the 2.1 quest where he tells Aventurine to tell him if he can't hold on any longer. Also, he loses the IDGAF war because he is actively trying to help people who want to learn and trying to spread logic and knowledge across the cosmos to those who didn't have it before. Would a man who didn't GAF do that? No!

Now that we've covered his view on knowledge and the way that he presents himself, let's turn to the way that he SEES himself. Now, this is where we get into the nitty gritty of gifted child trauma & academic trauma as well as crippling expectations. It's literally explicitly said in his character stories that he sees himself as mediocre, and it's canon that he doesn't have a good view of himself. His self-esteem is down in the fucking trenches along with my sanity as I write this analysis. The reality is - being called a genius your whole life doesn't really make you feel better about yourself. I'd know. I was. In fact, it makes you feel fucking worse when you can't live up to an expectation. We all fail in life. It's part of being human. But when you're held to such high standards - idolized for your knowledge and the way that you're 'gifted' - the crash comes really fucking hard. Failure is inevitable, and when people who are held on that pedestal experience it, they take it really bad.

The reality is that nobody - not even geniuses - are perfect, but you grow up believing that you are. Then, when you fail for the first time, it all comes tumbling down. The first time I came home with a bad grade was one of the most humiliating moments of my life. I hadn't studied because I was arrogant and I thought that I was smart enough to pass without putting any extra effort into it - because I was a 'gifted' child, right? I should've been able to do it without studying like the other kids. And that's the thing with gifted children – you grow reliant on that title. You cling onto it for dear life for motivation, as well as self-perception. Little by little, the person you are falls apart as you slave away to the perception other people have of you. I think basically every gifted child that I've ever spoken to is a victim of this – and of course, you can heal from this mindset - but it's a hard one to shake.

Ratio's way of presenting himself as being a 'genius' and 'arrogant' also seems to contradict the way that he calls himself 'mundane' at the same time. However, these are two mindsets that can coexist. One part of you believes that you are a genius and that you are perfect, while the other part is crumbling and calling yourself good-for-nothing every time you make a mistake. It's a tiring cycle to live in. This usually leads to people shutting themselves out and closing themselves off after living like that, pushing back your own feelings in favour of being the perfect child. However, we don't know the exact details of Dr. Ratio's childhood, but we can infer that he was held to a pedestal, and this is a very harmful mindset for a child to have.

His superiority complex comes both from how other people view him, but it's a way to cope with his crippling lack of self-esteem. I'm sorry my guy. Also helping others probably helps him feel like he's worth something and makes him feel better because he bases his entire worth off of what he can do and how he can help others. However, this is just my personal interpretation backed by what I have already deconstructed. 

In general, this is an easy way to crush self-esteem. You spend your whole life working to meet the image of what other people think you are. In fact, another reason why Dr. Ratio might be so harsh is because that’s the kind of attitude he holds towards himself when conducting research – he’s as hard on himself as he is to others. You end up hating the idea of failure, instead of seeing it as it should be - a way to improve and grow. Actually, I think this could be a reason that he went out of his way to break that illusion of 'worshipping geniuses' in the Space Station. Maybe some sort of childhood connection? Personal connection? In his endeavour to spread more knowledge and make people think for themselves and not blindly follow geniuses, to wake them up and let them think for themselves - maybe, somewhere, in there, he's helping that little child that was almost dehumanized for his intelligence. TLDR: Conflicting mindsets due to trauma, brain vs heart almost - his knowledge that he is a genius vs the crippling lack of his self worth.

Now that we've established Dr. Ratio's self worth, let's take a look at the impact Aeons had on him. Nous, the Aeon of Knowledge itself. I think in a world where the Gods are real, tangible beings that you can reach out and talk to - it makes sense that someone with high ambition and someone who's been called a genius his whole life would seek the confirmation of Nous. When you're a man of knowledge, and you've spent your whole life working with it, being praised for it – it feels natural to look for a god to look down upon you and bless you, right? The Genius Society – it should house him, because he is a genius as well, right? Imagine this – you have been called a genius your whole life, held to that kind of pedestal for so long, and now you wait for the recognition of the Gods. Because if you truly are a genius – then surely, a higher being will recognize your intelligence, right?

The invitation never comes.

And then, comes the doubt.

What if I'm really not a genius? What if everything I've worked for is a lie? Aeons are beings that are 'absolute'. If the god of Knowledge won't accept you or even cast a glance upon you, does that mean that everything was wrong. Gods see more than humans, after all. Gods know more than humans - and that spiral... I think you can see if. (If you don't let me know. I will ramble about how a failure like that can make you spiral down into a worse mindset). 

However, the reason why Ratio was never invited to the Genius Society is simple. It’s because he LOSES THE IDGAF WAR. Now, if we look at all the people we know who are in the Genius Society - we find one thing in common. They’re in it to win it for themselves. They don’t help others using the knowledge that they’ve gotten - they use it to pursue shit for themselves. The people of the Genius Society are inherently self-serving. They WIN the idgaf war. Ratio LOSES. Do we see now? 

Ratio’s empathy is the reason why he wasn’t let in. He is too human. Nous is a computer. Herta is detached from people. Ruan Mei is literally looking at life as test subjects. Screwllum is a robot. 

OUR DOCTOR MAN LOST THE IDGAF WAR, BECAUSE HE IS HUMAN AND FEELS FOR OTHERS!!! 

Also, it’s a plausible theory that Nous’s definition of ‘genius’ is different from the human definition of ‘genius’ – it’s a computer, after all. Who knows what’s going on in that code head of its. 

However, we still love you Ratio. Never stop losing the IDGAF war. 

TLDR: Nous is a computer. It is also in it to win it. It is also self serving. It gazes upon the hoes who are here to win it for themselves. Ratio is busy serving the masses and cooking knowledge in his frying pan. To it, there is no logical reason to be doing this. Therefore, no reason to invite this guy to the Genius Society. 

Ratio’s gifted child trauma says otherwise. He wants in. Why wouldn’t he? He’s been working his whole life as a genius. 

Nous is like… nah bro, you care too much. Ratio is like, ‘what the fuck?’ And then the AEON OF KNOWLEDGE GOES FOR THE MILK. 

Okay, now, quick shoutout to Ratio wanting to help others. He is just like me fr. SO BASICALLY, RECAP OF EVERYTHING I JUST SAID:

Ratio LOSES the idgaf war because he cares about other people. Spent his whole life as the golden egg, and then turns to the gods for recognition because of the inherent trauma of being a child genius. He goes, "hey bro, can you confirm that I am in fact a genius?" and Nous goes, "no, you are too busy cheffing for the masses." Ratio goes, "what the fuck?" and then we collectively realize his attitude comes from blocking off his feelings (while failing miserably), being salty about not being recognized, being put on a pedestal for his whole life, and his crippling depression *cough* lack of self worth *cough*. 

Oh, and the "I will never be enough" thought train probably hits him every single day. He is not enough to be recognized by a God. Gods are superior to humans. Maybe nothing has worth after all. Hey, that's Nihility! Hi IX, let's hear what you have to say.

*muffled ix noises*

I see, I see.

The consensus is: HE'S TRAUMATIZED BY EXPECTATIONS! HE WILL PROBABLY SUFFER FROM BURNT OUT GIFTED CHILD IF HE HAS NOT ALREADY!

Okay, now, before I delve into song lyrics (and I KNOW this has been long, just bear with me) I want to talk a little bit (read: a lot) about his relationship with Aventurine. We all know that he cares about Aventurine in his own way. But I want to pull in another idea that I didn’t cover before: 

Ratio’s fucking emotional constipation. 

Basically, the reason why he has trouble connecting with others is because he was most likely alienated by others as a symptom of being called a genius and being put on a pedestal. This makes him seem unapproachable to his peers, most likely, and therefore, as a result, doesn’t know how to properly connect with others. This just makes his way of presenting affection and care to others even more challenging – because he just doesn’t know how to do it in a healthy and clear way. Academic trauma causing emotional problems, because he’s probably a little bit out of touch with his own. Processing? No! Research. Also, this is very important for understanding Ratio’s character in my opinion, because he’s just a little guy who doesn’t know how to articulate. Maybe he’s got a touch of the ‘tism. Tism mutuals, do we agree or disagree? 

However, in comes Aventurine. Love Aventurine, but they are both emotionally constipated. Aventurine displays his affection in ways that Ratio probably only catches after re-analyzing their time together about five times. He’s also a very closed off individual – but Ratio knows this. A cute thing is that Ratio is patient where he needs to be, even if he’s generally a pretty hot-headed guy, and I’m like… bro… that letter… “I wish you the best of luck”... I will wait for you…. GAY ASS MAN…

Sorry the Aventio demons took over. Anyway, what I’m trying to say here is that they both have nonverbal communication with one another that they clearly decipher and Ratio obviously cares for him (he came back and almost jeopardized the plan just for the sake of his ‘coworker’... okay gayboy…) and they just have such a neat little dynamic… Aventurine lets Dr. Ratio do his thing… understands his emotional alienation to a degree…. they’re so neat….

Okay, Aventurine segment over. NOW, FINALLY, WE CAN GET TO THE SONG LYRICS!!! YAY!!!! We all cheered!!!

We are going to be here for two more amber eras, because I realized I actually want to analyze every single lyric from both of these songs. Brace yourself for like, 2k more words. Help. 

I think it’s only proper that we start off with ‘Oh No!’ the song that has haunted me since my childhood.

“Don’t do love, don’t do friends

I’m only after success

Don’t need a relationship

I’ll never soften my grip”

Remember when I mentioned that alienation was a big part of Ratio lore? Yeah, that manifests itself in this. When you spend your entire life chasing after knowledge and being held to that standard of untouchable genius, it makes sense that you couldn’t connect with others and that you turn your gaze only to success. Therefore, relationships that are interpersonal lose meaning for a bit – you’re just looking for answers and ways to help them, not connect with them. Also, this is what he wants to do – so he’s never going to pass down an opportunity to better himself or to help someone else. 

“Don’t want cash, don’t want card

Want it fast, want it hard 

Don’t need money, don’t need fame

I just want to make a change

I just wanna change, I just wanna change” 

This is directly alluding to his reasonings for distributing knowledge across the cosmos. Was he based on this song? Maybe he was. He’s not looking for money or fame, his ultimate goal is actually pretty selfless – to bring knowledge and give people the tools they need to think for themselves. He just wants to make a change – he just wants people to be able to have access to knowledge and help cure ‘stupidity’. He wants to do it as quickly as possible, always reaching for lofty goals that might seem impossible, but he will make them possible. 

“I know exactly what I want and who I want to be

I know exactly why I walk and talk like a machine

I’m now becoming my own self-fulfilled prophecy

Oh! Oh no! Oh no! Oh no, oh!” 

Ratio knows his goal. He knows what he’s working towards. I do believe that he understands why he is the way that he is – he has a degree in Psychology, after all. He knows how he’s been hurt but at the same time, the trauma brain probably doesn’t want to recognize it and he hasn’t stepped into healing yet. He knows what he went through impacted him, but he’s too busy helping others to help himself. He’s becoming what he wants to be, and yet he’s not, all at the same time – which causes the idea of “oh no!” as a kind of cry for help, almost. He’s too proud to ask for it himself, of course, so he’ll fall alone until someone manages to catch him and give him the strength to continue holding on. Aventurine is that. 

“One track mind, one track heart

If I fail, I’ll fall apart

Maybe it is all a test

‘Cause I feel like I’m the worst

So I always act like I’m the best” 

Now, these are the exact lyrics that made me associate this song with Ratio in the first place. He’s got a singular goal that he will do nothing to stop at getting, that he goes so far to get to. However, as I mentioned earlier, failure is not an option for those who were deemed gifted or genius. You are perfect, so therefore you must live up to everyone’s every expectation and surpass them, too, in order to keep your perception of yourself intact. Ratio does not hold himself in high regard, but acts arrogant in order to hold himself together and not fall to the self-deprecating thoughts, even if they fall through the cracks. It gets tiring to hold yourself together like that for a long time, you know? 

“I’m gonna live, I’m gonna fly

I’m gonna fail, I’m gonna die

I’m gonna live, I’m gonna fly

I’m gonna fail, I’m gonna die” 

Remember how I was talking about contradictory mindsets and how they can coexist. This is them. The feeling of crippling self-hatred and lack of self esteem versus the idea that you can do it, you can make a difference – you were born a genius, this is what you’re going to do. This is the knowledge that you are a genius vs the lack of self-esteem that Ratio has. “Mediocre” vs “genius” mindset, eh? 

All the other lyrics in this song are repetitions of what I’ve analyzed before, so let’s move onto “Are you Satisfied?” 

To be honest, there are only a few lines in this song that allow me to connect it to Ratio, so therefore, I will only be analyzing them. However, if you think that other lyrics can connect to him, I’d be interested in knowing how. 

“What you’re gonna be 

It’s not my problem if you don’t see what I see

And I do not give a damn if you don’t believe

My problem, it’s my problem that I never am happy

It’s my problem, it’s my problem on how fast I will succeed”

Pretending to not care about how the world sees you is so fucking real. Sometimes, you really don’t give a shit, and sometimes it’s all you can think about. Ratio… doesn’t seem like he’s the happiest person. He works himself hard and he’s always chasing after a goal that must be exhausting. He’s always doing his best, and I think even with his empathy, it’s easy to start not giving a shit after trying for so long and so hard. Accepting help is one of the hardest things that anybody can do, especially with how much pride he has. His personal problems are his personal problems and he can deal with them on his own. 

“High achiever, don’t you see? 

Baby, nothing comes for free

They say I’m a control freak

Driven by a greed to succeed

Nobody can stop me” 

Nothing comes for free. A lot of the things Ratio has achieved is due to his own intelligence, yes, but also because of a shit ton of hard work. His goal is literally to cure the universe of ‘stupidity’ – and that’s a pretty large fucking goal. He is a high achiever who likes to know the details of every situation when he can in order to try and make things better, and he is driven by a greed to succeed. Why wouldn’t he be? Success is important, and success means helping more people. He isn’t going to allow himself to be stopped by anybody – not even anybody from the Genius society. 

Okay, and we have finally reached the end of my analysis! This caps at around 4k words, so if you stuck around for this long, thank you so much. I would love to hear any of your comments, and I hope you laughed a little bit. Thank you again! This means so much to me that you read. <3

#dr ratio #drratio #honkai star rail #hsr #hsr dr ratio #hsr ratio #veritas ratio #character analysis #song lyrics #song analysis #attempt at humour #so that you don't get bored #long ahh analysis #analysis #media analysis #aventio #ratiorine #managed to sneak them in #i love homos #help #god help me #aurae analyzes

[little-diable]

Let Me Love You - Draco Malfoy (smut)

It seems like many of us are back on the Draco Malfoy train taking us straight to hell, so I needed to add another fic to this very mess. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: The reader and Draco are sworn enemies, at least that’s what she like to believe. But what happens when they have to share a bed at their friend’s wedding? What happens when he finally lets her in on the feelings that leave her confused and unsure of her own feelings?

Warnings: 18+, smut, unprotected piv, enemies to lovers, one bed trope, quite some fluff

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x fem!reader (2.6k words)

“What?” Her voice echoed through the hallway, eyes set on her friend’s features. (Y/n)’s blood was singing in her ears, telling a tale of confusion, anger, and helplessness. 

“Oh come on, (y/n), it’s just for a weekend, he’s not half as bad as you think he is!” Her friend's laughter didn’t manage to drown out the thoughts racing through (y/n)’s mind, trying to figure out how to leave in front of her eyes without using any magic, protecting her friend's obliviousness. 

“Stace, I love you, but he’s an absolute git. I won’t survive sharing a room with him.” With an exhausted sigh leaving her, (y/n)’s eyes fluttered close, just for a moment. How could she survive sharing a room with Draco Malfoy? The man she’s hated ever since crossing paths with him at Hogwarts all these years ago. Even after she had left the school her hatred had grown, having to endure working for the same company as him. But it felt like fate kept playing tricks on her, pushing (y/n) into the same group of friends Draco called his own. 

It was a constant back and forth between the two of them. A back and forth that left her boiling in anger, jaw clenched together whenever he teased her in front of their shared friends, making jokes that pushed waves of heat through her trembling body. And now she was supposed to share a room with him? 

“Look who’s finally here, I was waiting for your arrival, love.” Draco’s voice rang in her ears, lips pulled into the smirk she hated almost as much as she hated Draco himself. Slowly she turned towards him, teeth buried in her lower lip to keep her angry words bottled in, at least as long as their friend was still around.

“See, (y/n), I told you Draco doesn’t mind sharing a room with you, please just do it, for me. It’s my wedding after all.” 

……

“You insufferable git. Was this your idea?” (Y/n)’s angry voice boomed through the big hotel room, angry eyes set on Draco’s grinning features. He studied her for a few seconds, moving closer and closer till he came to rest in front of her. No words left the blonde haired man as his hand cupped her cheek, feeling the heat flushing through (y/n)’s veins. 

“Now, don’t be like that, we both know you’ve been waiting for this to happen for years. No need to hide your crush on me. I’m not blind, I feel your eyes on me, love.” His raspy voice shot shudders down her spine, forcing the hairs to rise on her arms. (Y/n)’s mouth felt dry, stomach in knots, just like her vocal cords. No word managed to roll off her tongue, allowing Draco’s thumb to start exploring her cheek, finding its way to her mouth. “No matter how much you try to hide it, your body can’t stop longing for me.”

“Don’t you dare touch me again, Malfoy.” (Y/n) finally managed to rip herself out of her state, having to turn away from him to try to calm her accelerated breathing. With her heart pounding in her chest she started unpacking her bag, desperately hoping that he’d lose interest in teasing her. 

“I’d advise you to pull yourself together. We don’t want you to mess up our friends' big day.” No longer did Draco’s voice carry its teasing undertone, it was back to the icy tone she’s been used to ever since arriving at Hogwarts all these years ago. She froze, eyes flickering up to meet his bright ones, getting lost in the pupils that reminded her of a frozen lake, longings buried beneath the thick blanket of ice they couldn’t escape from. Draco turned away from her after a few moments, reaching for his black coat before he wordlessly left the room.

With a groan clawing through her, (y/n) plopped down on the bed she was supposed to share with him. Her thoughts couldn’t stop racing, once again wondering where the root of all her anger and hatred towards Draco Malfoy was lying, growing stronger with every passing week. And yet she couldn’t pinpoint it on a single event, only able to remember the teasing words rolling off his tongue, embarrassing her in front of new students, pulling pranks on her to prove his worth to those that looked up to him. 

She’d have to pull herself together before the weekend would end with her hands covered in Draco’s blood, finally snapping after all these horrible years, burying the handsome man six feet under.

……

“Green has always been your colour, love.” His breath fanned over the back of her neck, lips ghosting over the soft skin of her shoulder. Draco stood behind (y/n), hand placed on her waist as the other guests around them listened to one speech after another. A shaky inhale of air was pulled into her lungs, lips finding their way back to the thin rim of her champagne glass, drowning another sip of alcohol. 

Ever since this afternoon she had tried to avoid Draco, not daring to cross paths with the man that made her feel more emotions than all the words she knew could ever describe. It was clear to the both of them that he held a dark kind of magic over her body and soul, a spell she wasn’t familiar with, forced to endure. And yet - deep down inside of her - she didn’t want to break free from the back and forth glueing the two of them together. 

(Y/n) couldn’t stop her eyes from rolling as Draco’s quiet chuckles rang in her ears, finally pulling away from her. But her peace was soon disturbed once again, pulled into his chest, back perfectly placed against his front. Draco kept his arm wrapped around her middle, smiling at those guests that turned towards the two of them every now and then.

“What are you doing, Malfoy?” He took her glass from her hand, keeping quiet as he started guiding her towards the dance floor. Soft music reverberated through the room, allowing other couples to sway from left to right, couples that looked more in love than she’s ever been, wondering what being admired like this must feel like. She followed Draco’s lead, wondering why the man kept swaying her from left to right, forcing her to dance with him as if they were just another couple invited to the wedding of their friends. 

“You see, even though you like to give off the impression of hating me, I don’t think you actually hate me.” Draco whispered the words, lips teasing her ear before he twirled her around, pulling (y/n) even closer. She felt his heart pounding in his chest, beating against the rib cage she felt underneath her trembling hand.

“And why is that? You’ve been nothing but horrible towards me, I have every right to hate you.” He studied her, intensely as if she was a canvas filled with colours his icy eyes have never seen before. Her eyes threatened to flutter close, unable to withstand the intense eye contact. 

“Don’t act as if you weren’t just as hateful towards me, I simply followed your lead. I'd rather have you hate me than not care about me at all.” With her breath hitched in her chest she stared at him, pupils dilated, heart pounding, insides churning. Her thoughts couldn’t come up with a reply, wondering if he was once again teasing her, speaking lies she now clung to as if they were her lifeline. 

The music stopped playing, just for a few seconds, though seconds long enough for Draco to step away from her, clearing his throat before he blended in with the crowd. It took (y/n) almost a full minute to break out of her thoughts, the state his words have forced her into. Desperate for fresh air she pushed through the crowd, glassy eyes focused on the exit.  

She didn’t know what to believe, confused by the words that sounded more sincere than any other words Draco has ever spoken before. Could it be? Could it be that he wasn’t clinging onto the hate she was oh so certain he felt towards her? 

……

Draco didn’t return that night, he didn’t enter their shared room like she secretly had hoped he would, deciding to stay away from the woman that would probably once again force him into a useless fight. Anxiety thumped through her veins as (y/n) entered the breakfast hall of the hotel, finding her way to the table where Draco was already sitting, pulled into a conversation by a couple (y/n) hasn’t crossed paths with just yet.

“Good morning.” Her soft voice interrupted the conversation, forcing all eyes to snap towards her. Wordlessly Draco pulled the chair next to his away, helping her sit down before he turned back towards the couple. But by then the two of them seemed distracted, focusing on another approaching couple. 

“Where were you last night?” (Y/n)’s whispers forced Draco’s eyes back towards her. He studied her, eyes flickering between her pupils and her mouth, the lips she nervously kept biting. With his hand finding her knee he reached for his cup of tea, drowning a few sips before a silent sigh left him. 

“I stayed with Mark.” She was waiting for an explanation, wondering why he had decided to stay away, but no further word left Draco, eyes focusing on hers for a few more seconds before he turned away. Her heart was pounding, forcing her hand to find his, interlacing their fingers before she rose to her feet with a quiet “Come” leaving her. 

Draco allowed her to pull him out of the hall, down the hallway towards their shared room. They were engulfed by an unfamiliar silence, atmosphere crackling like a fire feasting from old branches, warming them from inside. She parted from him to sit down on the bed she had slept in, fumbling with her fingers as she stumbled over her words. 

“Did you mean it? Did you mean what you said yesterday?” Draco kept his distance, not daring to step closer just yet as a soft “I did” left his slightly parted lips. His words forced (y/n) to lift her gaze, admiring his features. “I don’t know how I feel about this. You’ve always been mean to me, and I guess I just gave in, because I didn’t want to hide from you or your friends. You’ve hurt me, but I guess I wasn’t any better.” 

Draco stepped closer, cupping her cheek like he had done yesterday afternoon, once again pushing waves of heat through her trembling body. He moved slowly, tilting his head down to brush his lips against hers, nothing more than a ghost of a touch. (Y/n) forced herself closer, properly kissing Draco for the first time. 

Their lips moved in sync, a touch so burning, so intense, both couldn’t stop their moans from leaving one another. Her arms found their way around his neck, gasping in surprise as he sat down next to her, forcing (y/n) to sit in his lap. Their tongues fought for dominance, while their hands started moving, guided on by the longing now flushing through their system. 

“We need to stop, otherwise I won’t be able to let you go.” Draco murmured his words against her lips, words (y/n) spared no attention to, trembling hands working on his shirt. A chuckle ripped through Draco, tilting her head up to meet his intense gaze. He kissed her again, urged on by the lust keeping them laced together, slowly laying down with (y/n) still straddling his lap. 

“I don’t want you to let me go, I need you to touch me, please Draco.” For the first time in years she didn’t speak his name with any hate fueling her words, murmuring it softly as if she was praying to whoever was listening, sharing her secrets with the dark night. Draco instantly gave in, undoing the zip of her dress, pulling it over her head as he sat up once again, shuffling out of his dress shirt. 

She helped him out of his trousers before she stepped out of her underwear, naked bodies exposed to one another's wandering eyes. Draco pulled her back into his lap, kissing (y/n) breathless as his hand found her heat, feeling her arousal drip from her folds. The two were a moaning mess, bodies begging them to give in, to finally feel one another in the most intimate way imaginable. With her trembling hand finding his twitching cock, (y/n) aligned his cock with her heat, parting from the kiss to force another breath of air into her burning lungs. 

“Fuck,” the curse slowly rolled off Draco’s tongue as she sank down on his cock, walls clenching around him in a desperate attempt to adjust. His hands kept exploring her body, stroking up and down her sides, cupping her breasts as (y/n) slowly started moving. Draco supported her every move, forcing her down for another kiss, hips jerking up to meet hers. 

Neither of them cared about the friends that were probably looking for them, neither of them cared about the unaddressed confessions hanging in the air, begging to be spoken. All they cared about was the way their bodies perfectly fit together, forming a bond so strong both struggled to keep on breathing. 

“Feels so good, shit, I feel so full.” (Y/n)’s whispers forced a shaky breath out of Draco, drowning out her surprised gasp as he tightened his grasp on her, flipping them around. He fucked her into the mattress, hand finding the headrest of the bed to try and keep himself controlled, not daring to mark her up just yet. 

Their moans reverberated through the air, urging them on to climb higher and higher, wanting to finally give into the intense feeling simmering deep inside of them. Every now and then their lips found back together, sharing breathless kisses that were interrupted by their moans, by their groans, sounds that clearly projected their every need. 

“Such a tight cunt, fuck, my pretty girl, you feel so good.” His praises left (y/n) burning with heat thumping through her, eyes rolling back in her head as his cold fingers found her clit, carefully circling the bundle of nerves. With her back arched off the mattress and her quivering legs wrapped around his waist, she gave in, choking on his name, begging him to fuck her through her high. 

Draco’s body kept meeting hers, only pulling out of her as he felt himself tumbling over the edge, relieving himself on her lower stomach with a groan. Their hearts were racing, lungs begging for more air, bodies trembling, a feeling so intense kept holding them hostage that neither of them managed to break through the cloud of lust they were still engulfed by. 

“I don’t know how we’ll explain this to our friends.” Her whispers left Draco chuckling, plopping down next to her. Their eyes met before another laugh left the two, letting go of a “Fuck” begging to leave them. 

“We will definitely have to endure their ‘I told you so’, but I’m more than okay with that.”

#Draco Malfoy smut #Draco Malfoy imagine #Draco Malfoy x reader #harry potter imagine

[notjustjavierpena]

you have returned! hope you’re doing ok! i miss husband!javi like i’m missing a limb!

this got me thinking about a request - husband!javi having to go away for a work trip for a few days - comes back and like cute family time. once the kids are in bed he just goes crazy about reader, she’s tired but she handled the kids no problem and is kind of like no big deal about it. and he’s just feral at that. she’s such a good mum and he’s so turned on and he missed her and just ugh smut

Return

Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost

A/N: This is a request from the 17th of October 2023. Anon, I hope you are still with us. I loved writing this for you, and I hope it lives up to your expectations. Thank you to proofreading as always @angelofsmalldeath-codeine !! thank you for hyping me @theywhowriteandknowthings and @pinkypromisepascal 💖❤️

Summary: Javier returns from a business trip after being apart from his family for three whole days.

Pairing: Javier Peña x reader (no y/n)

Tags:  +18, domesticity, a happy family, javi having a baby in his arms and spending alone-time with his kids needs its own tag, i love yous, pregnancy, playful and teasing hubby, touch-starved, banter, dirty talk, finger-fucking, talk about female masturbation, pussy eating, loud reader, piv sex, riding, nipple sucking, lactation kink, javi gets off on you being the mother of his children, multiple orgasms, creampie, intense sex, bliss, pillow talk

Word count: 8k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54409297

Return

The sound of the door has you sprinting towards it. You throw your arms around Javier’s neck before he even manages to put down his bag, causing him to drop it and make a noise of concern in case its contents may end up spilling out on the floor. If you have to be completely honest, you don’t give a damn right now because you haven’t felt his embrace for nearly three whole days. 

“Hola, baby,” he says with a voice that tells you that he is smiling. He holds you close to himself, one hand reaching around your waist and the other one settling on the back of your head. He presses your body into his own, and you try to keep yourself from making a noise that reminds you of a schoolgirl. 

Javier has been on a work trip out of state. It happens from time to time that some department of the state gets the not-so-incredible idea of hiring him as a motivational speaker to make their conferences look more interesting than they actually are. Javier hates it but the money is good and his boss always ends up encouraging him in a way that mostly sounds like he has no choice. 

You hate it too. The act of sleeping in your bed alone, not feeling his body heat, and not being able to simply reach out for him if you need him, is torturous. Combined with taking care of three children alone, you find yourself slowly becoming a less-than-ideal version of yourself. It’s a stressfully romantic reminder that you can barely function without him.

“Hi,” you grin widely as you pull back to receive a kiss. You splay your palms on his chest, scratching slightly as he pecks your lips repeatedly for a moment. Your whole body feels like it is made up of butterflies fluttering around each other in a romantic dance. 

“Thank God that’s over,” he reaches for the suitcase when you finally allow him to step out of your arms. He walks into the kitchen, “They were talking through my whole fucking presentation, and the meetings afterward… I was just daydreaming about coming home to you and the kids the whole time.” 

“That bad?” You follow him around like a puppy. If you didn’t know that he would do the same thing had it been you arriving home, you would find yourself slightly pathetic for being such a fool for him. 

“I should’ve said no this time,” he says as if it had ever been an option. You nod as he continues, “I do it every year and I feel like an idiot each time.” 

“We need the money,” you argue, finally moving away from your husband to go to the living room where Sebastian is lying on a blanket. He squeals in delight at seeing you, and you pick him up with a coo. 

“We don’t need the money, we’ve got enough money,” Javier says from the kitchen. 

“Come say hi to your son,” you change the subject and hear Javier’s steps come closer.

“Oh, there he is,” Javier says and his voice switches to baby talk as you hand Sebastian to him. He settles him on his hip, bouncing slightly where he stands, “Te he extrañado tanto, mijo (I have missed you so much, my son).”

Sebastian gurgles happily up at his father. His eyes are full of recognition at the sound of the  familiar voice. You swear that you can see a little bit of the exhaustion in Javier’s eyes disappear. 

“He’s been really patient with his mom these past couple of days,” you say with a chuckle, “No fussing during naps or nothing. Almost like he knew I needed the extra sympathy.”

“Bet your momma handled everything way better than I could, huh? What do you think?” Javier shifts Sebastian to sit on his arm instead so he can blow a raspberry on his face. He smiles softly at you afterward, turning his head towards you so that he and his son are cheek to cheek, “Is that wrong to assume?”

“I still think you’re better with them than me,” you say simply. 

He tuts, “Bullshit.”

Sebastian makes another happy noise at hearing both of his favorite voices. He swings his tiny fists, and Javier grabs one of his hands, “If this one wasn’t so fixated on playing peek-a-boo, he’d agree. Suppose we all have our vices.”

You move past him with a roll of your eyes and a smile on your face. You go to check the food on the stove, and from behind you, Javier sniffs the air. He walks to join you by the counter, “What are you making?”

“Tu favorito (your favorite),” you smile at Sebastian instead of looking at him, leaning in to bump your nose with his tiny one. Sebastian grabs at your face. 

“No te merezco, mi amor (I don’t deserve you, my love).”

“We eat in twenty minutes,” you inform after lovingly shaking your head at him. He leans in to kiss you again and you know immediately that this is just one of many kisses you will get tonight. 

“Where are the rascals?” He asks. 

“In the garden,” you reply and open your arms, “Give him here and go say hi. Inés has been going on about you all day, so please save me from hearing more about her super-duper-awesome Daddy.”

Carefully, Javier hands over Sebastian, “I thought you liked her super-duper-awesome Daddy.”

“I think I might actually love him,” you grin and try not to feel silly at your sappiness because you do actually love him so much that it is stupid. Sebastian clings to you as soon as he smells you, resting his head on your shoulder and bunching his fists in your shirt.

Javier kisses you once more before heading to the door to the garden. You hear him leave it open, and watch him go outside and step off the porch with a hello. 

“Hey there, gremlins!” He shouts. Inés and Lucas, both engrossed in their own activities, look up at the same time. Their faces light up at the sight of their father, but Inés is the one who makes a noise so loud that you can hear it in the kitchen as if she’s speaking right next to you. 

Both of them come charging whilst shouting for him. you smile fondly at the sight of them colliding with their father who lets himself be knocked backward into the grass with a happy laugh. He wraps his arms around them and squeezes them tightly, “How’ve you been? I’ve missed you.”

They both look up at his face, speaking enthusiastically at the same time until he can barely tell what is going on. Their stories of the events of the last three days weave together until it is nonsense, and they don’t seem to notice that he cannot follow along with what they are saying. He ruffles their hair and sits up with them still cradled in the crooks of his arms, “Wow wow wow, uno a la  vez (one at a time).”

“I made a tower of blocks that was taller than me!” Inés says proudly and Lucas seems to let her have the spotlight for a moment. He knows that she’ll get distracted and run away soon anyway, giving him his own chance at talking to his father. Inés talks loudly, “Mommy took a picture. She said that you needed the evi— evin— uhh… evindance.”

“Evidence,” Lucas corrects her with a superior smirk. 

“That’s what I said,” she huffs. 

“Nuh-uh,” her brother protests and ducks out from underneath his father’s arm. 

“Ya-huh!” Inés removes herself from the embrace too. 

“Alright, that’s enough,” Javier chuckles, “I’ll have to ask mamá for your picture. It sounds really cool.”

“Can we build one together?” She asks with a hopeful voice, “Pleeease.”

“Let’s save it for after dinner, mija (my daughter), okay?” He suggests, “And then I’ll build a tower that’s double the size of you before you gotta sleep.”

“Really? When?” Inés reveals that she still has no real concept of time. 

“After dinner, baby,” he says again, winking at Lucas who grins, “Go ask Mommy when we’re eating.” 

She is up in no time, running towards you in the kitchen. It leaves Lucas the perfect opportunity to have his moment. He gets up from the ground, his jeans covered in green patches, and starts walking towards the swing set that Javier built a few years ago. 

“Dad, you need to see what I’ve learned!” He says. 

“Alright, let’s see,” Javier pushes himself to stand with a groan and follows, crossing his arms over his chest and watching his son get onto the seat of the swing. By clutching the chains tightly, Lucas pulls himself to carefully stand up on the swing seat. 

Javier finds himself about to protest, instinctively holding out a hand to be ready for a potential fall. However, Lucas seems to have everything under control as he holds the chains tightly with both hands. He speaks as he starts swaying back and forth, looking hopeful for approval from who he knows to be the bravest man in his world, “I practiced all day yesterday!” 

“Eres increíble (you’re incredible)!” Javier cheers but then smiles smugly, “Does mom know you’re doing that?” 

“She told me not to,” he admits shyly. 

“Well, I haven’t seen anything,” Javier winks. 

“Thanks, Dad,” it sounds genuine, happy to keep a secret. Lucas lights up, “Wanna see me jump?”

“Even your old dad has limits,” Javier laughs with a shake of his head, “Get down from there. No jumping.”

“Fine,” his son grumbles. 

When he is on the ground, you pop your head out of the door to call them inside, “Dinner time,  chicos  (guys). Lucas, come in here and wash your hands.”

You smile as they approach, and when Lucas has walked past you, you stop Javier in the doorway and curl your fingers around his tie, “You better wash them too, Peña.”

—

The sun hangs low on the horizon when dinner ends. You start gathering the plates and glasses, and Lucas joins in without hesitation which gives Javier a glimpse of what happens when he isn’t home to take care of you. Maybe his son can sense your exhaustion too. He feels a pang of guilt in his stomach but decides to make up for it by getting his daughter ready for bed. 

“Come on, mija (my daughter),” he says, picking Inés up from the floor and throwing her over his shoulder to make her laugh, “Pajamas first and then building blocks.”

He carries her upstairs to the bathroom and helps her into her pajamas, braids her hair the way she likes it, and then gets her toothbrush. She spends the whole time babbling about how she’ll grow taller like her mother and thus they’ll have to build a higher tower each day. 

“Open up,” he says, sitting on the lid of the toilet with her standing between his legs. He holds her toothbrush in front of her mouth. 

“Do you think I’ll be taller than you someday?” She asks with her childlike eyes, and Javier has to tap her chin to make her remember to open her lips. 

“No, because I’ll just wear very big shoes, even if my head bumps against the ceiling,” he tells her with a grin, “C’mon, teeth brushing time.”

Inés grimaces but follows through and he has to shush her several times because she wants to keep talking.She even sports impatience on her face as her father wipes down her mouth with a damp flannel to rid it of leftover toothpaste. She looks ready to bolt out of the door, fidgeting slightly on the spot, “You promised we could build a tower before bed.”

“And we can,” he reassures, turning the flannel over to wipe the tip of her nose playfully. She crinkles it and reaches up to rub it afterward when he moves to hang it on the laundry basket, “But we’re getting ready for bed first. Hair okay?”

She nods, not entirely convinced that she gets to stay up longer after having brushed her teeth but when Javier has put her toothbrush back in its place in the medicine cabinet, she beams as he allows her to run off to her room. He follows behind, arms stretched out in front of himself, “I’m coming to get you, mija (my daughter)!”

“Nooo!” She squeals in delight, trying to barricade the door with her tiny body but he is too fast and manages to reach her before she can even close it. He picks her up by her middle and holds her upside down, shaking her gently while  she laughs and laughs. 

“Mi monita (my little monkey),” he laughs too. 

They spend half an hour as the architects of a tall and colorful skyscraper, Inés too impatient to see the tower reach her own height to care much for aesthetics. Javier tries suggesting a storyline of a castle but his daughter shakes her head. 

“Stop, Daddy,” she commands and he holds up his hands in surrender. 

“So no princesses live here?” He questions, “Not even a dragon? Or maybe a—” 

“No,” she deadpans, steadfast just like Javier’s father has told him he was. He smiles when she isn’t looking, not about to get scolded by a 4-year-old for not taking their playtime seriously. He enjoys the little moments he has like these, seeing the way his daughter imitates his own behavior in a way that would make your teasing never-ending if you saw it. At that moment, he despises himself and his job because he has to leave sometimes and thus misses out on things. He should have been here when Inés built a tower as tall as herself by herself, not see it in a photograph later. 

Eventually, the construction gets too tall for her to build it even taller. Javier is put to work immediately after she realizes this, and she oversees his work with important nods and looks of assessment. 

“Look, Daddy!” She exclaims with each building block that Javier places on top of another. She stands beside the tower because she needs to compare her height to it, and Javier has to keep a hand on her shoulder to steady her when she gets close to making it tumble down, “Do you think it will reach the ceiling?”

“One day I’m sure it’ll reach the moon,” he replies as if it is a fact, “I for sure am tall enough.”

“No, you’re not,” she furrows her brow, thinking, “But we will just have to get a very big ladder.”

Finally, Javier has built a tower double her size. It stands wobbly on the floor. He nods towards it, “There you go, mi amor (my love), do you want to put the last block on top? The triangular one?” 

She nods and he notices the telltale signs of Inés’ tiredness because her eyes have started drooping. She rubs them with a little sigh, and then holds out her arms so he can pick her up and place her on his hip. 

She places the block carefully on top after Javier hands it to her. It is like all energy reserves have been used up from one moment to another. However, he doesn’t want to risk the unsteady tower falling over in the middle of the night, so he whispers in his most mischievous voice, “Do you want to knock it down?”

“Can I?” She widens her eyes. 

“Sí, pero no se lo digas a tu mamá (yes, but don’t tell your mom),” he confirms, “Perhaps a big angry monkey swung from it whilst roaring like this!”

He imitates King Kong the best he can and is thankful she has no clue what it is, and she repeats after him only to push on the stacked blocks until they tumble to the floor. He kicks the remaining pieces with his foot, and she roars again. They laugh together until she yawns.

“Alright, es hora de dormir (it’s time to sleep),” he announces then, and she doesn’t protest. He shifts her slightly in his arms so she can wrap herself around him with both her arms and legs, burying her face in his shoulder. It’s clear that she has missed him. He rubs her back with both hands before holding her in place, moving towards the bed in the corner of her room. 

Gently, he lays her down and crouches down beside her afterward. He pulls the covers up over her head on purpose and earns a giggle, “Oh no, where did Inés go?”

“You’re silly, Papá,” she says. 

“Go to sleep, baby,” he tells her after tucking her in properly this time, “You are so tired. I will see you tomorrow.”

“Thank you for playing with me,” Inés says with a yawn, turning on her side to look at him better. She softens a little as her eyes start to flutter closed, her father’s hand running over her head. Another yawn comes, “Te quiero, Papá. No me gusta cuando te vas y no me gusta extrañarte (I love you, Dad. I don’t like it when you leave and I don’t like missing you).”

Javier sucks in a breath. He rubs the spot between her eyebrows, trying to keep his composure, “Lo sé, mi vida (I know, my life). I love you too. Sleep well, okay?”

“Okay,” she slurs, and then her breathing slows. He tucks her in one last time, leaning in to kiss her hair softly before stretching carefully to his full height. He makes sure to turn on her night light before turning off the overhead lights, closing the door ever so gently afterward.

He lets out a deep breath right outside her room and smooths two fingers over his mustache. He hasn’t told you about this yet but he is considering quitting his job, has been considering it very seriously since Christmas when he promised to cut down on work significantly to be home a lot more with you and the kids. That and the fact that you are carrying his fourth child, and leaving you home alone with all four in the future just seems cruel.

However, it’s a comment like the one he has just received from his only daughter that sets it in stone. His search for other jobs is not a mere idea any longer but rather a necessity if he wants to continue being happy with his family. 

He has to tell you and he is dying to already, but first, he wants to unpack and then tuck Lucas in too. He has three days of goodnights to catch up on. 

—

He enters Lucas’ room half an hour later to the familiar sound of his son’s Game Boy, its rhythmic beeps and pings accompanied by the frantic tapping on its buttons. Lucas is sitting cross-legged in his bed, already wearing his pajamas and with his face illuminated by the screen of his console. 

“Hey Dad, can you knock? I’m losing my concentration,” his son says without looking up from the screen, already sounding so grown up that Javier has to tighten his grip around the doorknob. Where did the time go? 

“Ay, Lucas,” he tuts and crosses the room to stand by the bed, “Soy tu padre (I’m your father).”

“I just really don’t want to lose,” he explains and starts tapping away on the buttons again, his stare still fixed on the little jumping character. Javier waits for a moment, following his game by looking over his shoulder. 

When enough time has passed and Lucas seems to relax a bit more, he interrupts again, “Alright, time for bed, muchacho (young man).” 

“One more game!” Lucas finally looks up with pleading eyes. The boy sports the same puppy-look in them that you have said Javier does himself, and it was only when he looked into Lucas’ pleading face the first time that he realized what you meant. The look is damn near impossible to say no to. 

“Fine, but I’m taking it afterward unless you promise me not to play all night,” he says firmly, “Even Mario has to sleep at some point.”

“I will!” He reassures quickly, “Only five minutes more, I promise.”

“But I want to talk to you about something first,” he holds out his hand for the gaming console, “Dámelo (Give it to me). It’s important you listen.”

“Am I in trouble?” Lucas reluctantly hands his most precious belonging to his father who places it on the nightstand. 

“What? No, mijo (my son),” Javier gets Lucas under the covers, tucks him in, and then sits down on the edge of the bed, “How would you like it if I got to spend more time at home with you all?”

“What do you mean?” Lucas tilts his head in confusion.

“Can you keep a secret from Mom?” He asks with a gentle smile. Lucas nods. He continues, “I’m quitting my job soon.”

“Really?!” Lucas exclaims with pure shock on his face.

“Shh, your sister and your brother are asleep down the hall,” he shushes, holding a finger in front of his mouth.

“Really?” He whispers instead. 

“Absolutely, really,” Javier whispers back and Lucas’ eyes sparkle with excitement. He sits up in bed, pushing the covers aside to crawl into his father’s arms. Maybe he isn’t so grown up after all. Javier hugs him back and kisses his hair, “I’ve been thinking that spending more time with you, your brother and your sister is what I’ve been missing. I don’t like  leaving you here to be the big boy of the house when I’m not here.”

He continues when Lucas tightens his arms around him. He muses, “And even if I’ll still have a job, there’ll be more time for game nights and football in the garden. Would you like that?”

Lucas nods into his shoulder. Javier chuckles softly, "But remember, es nuestro secreto (it’s our secret) until I talk to Mom about it. We want to make sure she's on board with the plan, yeah?”

Lucas pulls back and nods eagerly, looking like he is already daydreaming of the extra time he'll get to spend with his father. However, there’s a tinge of anxiety in his excitement, and his voice is an unsure whisper when he speaks his concern, "Dad, what if Mom doesn't like the idea? What if she gets upset?"

“She understands how important our family time is. Trust me, te prometo (I promise) everything will be okay," he says with a reassuring smile. 

“But what will your new job be?” Lucas continues, “Will it be something cool?”

“I think I might start teaching people how to catch bad guys like I used to do,” he shrugs.

Lucas grimaces, “You’re gonna be a teacher?”

“Alright, that’s enough,” he laughs, “Bedtime.”

“You said one more game!” He protests. 

Javier gets up to grab the Game Boy off the nightstand. He holds it out for his son and yanks it away when he tries to take it, “One.”

“I promise,” he says and takes it when he is allowed. 

“And your father is actually very cool,” Javier moves to turn off the lights. He can already hear the theme tune of Lucas’ game, “Buenas noches (goodnight).”

“Buenas noches, papá, te quiero,” Lucas beams in the few seconds he looks up. 

“Y yo a tí, mijo (I love you too, my son),” he says and flicks the switch. 

“They’re asleep,” Javier says as he enters the kitchen a few minutes later. He finds you leaning against the counter with a glass of alcohol-free red wine in your hand. The bottle stands on the counter behind you, its contents half-emptied as if it's been your only way of treating yourself in the evenings after the kids have gone to bed. You look tired from having been alone with all three of them - one of them still an infant - for three days and with a secret baby in your belly to top it off. 

Chucho had offered to help you out but you had politely declined so as to not ask for too much of your father-in-law, not be too much of an inconvenience when he has so much to do at the ranch with getting ready for the Spring. 

“I’m about to be too,” you say after a sip of your glass. 

“When I’ve finally gotten you to myself?” Javier tuts and steps closer to you, stopping when he is right in front of you. He checks the baby monitor on the kitchen counter next to the wine bottle and then he takes the glass off your hand, setting it aside as well. 

His hands find your sides afterward, cupping your waist for a moment before they slide around your body so he can pull you in for a long and desperate kiss. You rest your arms on his shoulders, cradling his head as he moves his mouth with yours. It is nothing but pure ecstasy to feel him like this again, so much that you forget to breathe and have to pull away too soon. 

You know he is the same when he sucks a breath in at the same time as you. However, instead of kissing you again, he lets you catch your breath and hugs you close to his chest. His body feels warm, an instant smile forming on your face as he squeezes you. 

“Hi,” you say, sounding drunk despite the wine having no alcohol. His arms are a harbor, the very definition of the end of unhappiness. They’re strong and enough to make your head swim, holding you with the promise of never being apart except for physically. 

You feel his breath against your ear, “Hey, mamá.”

“I’m so glad you’re home with me again,” you close your eyes as you inhale through your nose, letting the scent of him flood your system. 

Javier pulls back and stares at you for a moment. He smirks, a mischievous gleam appearing in his eyes. Then he lets go of you to reach up and teasingly pull down your top to look down into it. 

“Ay, Javi,” you scold with a roll of your eyes. 

“What?” He acts oblivious. 

“You’re acting insane, and I’m trying to be genuine.”

“I haven’t seen you in three days, mi amor (my love), you can’t blame me,” he protests your accusation, “Besides, this is me being very genuine.”

“Missed you too,” you sigh. 

“And I’ve missed you, Jesus,” he wraps his arms around your waist again, pulls you closer to his body, and uses every opportunity to kiss you after each sentence, “Missed these tits. Missed your gorgeous pussy. You gotta let me have it tonight, mamácita.” 

“Take me upstairs then,” you lean your head back when he presses his lips to your throat, “We’re not doing it in the kitchen. Against popular belief.”

Javier snorts, “But we always—“

“I said against popular belief, baby,” you stress. 

“Fine, c’mere then,” his arms slide down over your hips, and when they reach your knees, he scoops you up with his strong arms and lifts you over his shoulder. You answer with a yelp that turns into a panicked laugh but he simply smacks your ass and starts walking. In the middle of the chaos, you manage to reach for the baby monitor on the counter. 

“You are incorrigible,” you say with a dramatic sigh.

“Yes, wife, yes, wife good, I like wife,” he replies in his best caveman accent and you snicker all the way up the stairs, legs dangling over his shoulder and ready to scold him each time he gropes your ass. 

When he throws you down on the bed, you are having a full-on laughing fit and the bubbling in your chest feels so good. Even better, when he looms over you by the end of the bed while unbuttoning his shirt, only to crawl on top of you. He kisses your wine-stained lips, scooping you up into his arms and you return his embrace after throwing the baby monitor on the bed. 

“I love your laugh,” he says softly when he needs a breath, bumping your noses together. 

“You just kidnapped me from the kitchen, that’s no laughing matter,” you tease. He doesn’t hesitate to kiss your neck while you talk. 

“Then why are you giggling like a schoolgirl?” He places a hand on your belly that still keeps a secret between the two of you. No one knows yet. 

There is concentration on his face when his hand moves up under your top, smoothing the fabric up until you stretch your arms above your head to help him rid it off of your body. 

“Hmm,” you think out loud, “Maybe because I have this terrible schoolgirl crush on you.”

“Really? I thought marriage was just a matter of convenience,” he chuckles and kisses your neck again. You lay your hands on his shoulders, smoothing them over the broadness of his bare skin that’s been missing underneath your fingertips and pushing him down towards your chest. 

“This is pretty good too, most convenient,” you note with a grin as he follows your silent order, moving his mouth south on you until he plants kisses between your breasts. You reach underneath your back to undo your bra, and he peels it off of you and sighs with satisfaction as soon as he has your upper body naked. 

“Look at you,” he groans, throwing the bra to the side and diving back into you. He kisses the swell of your right breast, “You make me so fucking horny.”

You throw your head back as he lets the flat of his tongue trail wetly from one breast to the other. He sucks a nipple into his mouth and earns his first moan, to which he presses his clothed crotch into your thigh to show you how hard he is already. 

“I’ve been wet since I saw you at the door,” you admit, “Been thinking of your cock inside of me each night. So fucking lonely without you.”

“You should have called me,” he mutters, mouth going further down on your body until he reaches the hem of your jeans. He undoes the button and zipper, yanking them over your hips and pulling them off your legs. 

“I was too busy screwing myself,” you tell him and he immediately finds your eyes. That clearly hit a spot, “You like that, huh?”

“Tell me about it,” he struggles a little with the jeans as they sit around your ankles, but the desperation has him yanking them off with enough enthusiasm to pull you along. 

“If you weren’t trying to drag me onto the floor— oh, shit.”

Javier has dragged your underwear along with the jeans, and he is now sinking two fingers deep inside of your dripping cunt and pressing them upwards. It’s what you get for being snarky, you suppose, staring down at him as he fucks you open on his digits. 

“Your mouth— ah, put your mouth on me,” you try to command. 

“Quiet down, baby. I literally just put the kids to bed. You want them running in here?” He shushes you with an amused grin, adding a third finger to your squelching cunt to make you groan, “While I’m wearing you like a puppet?” 

You rock against his hand with a chuckle that develops into a moan, “Imagine the conversation that’ll start.”

“I’d rather have a conversation about how filthy you’ve been while I was away,” he speeds up his fingers to make you cry out against your hand but he doesn’t make you come, changing his mind halfway there to follow through on your request, “No, actually I’ll have you monologue about it because I’m going to eat your pussy as you do it.”

You tremble as he takes your clit in his mouth, easing his tongue over the hard nub over and over again whilst timing it with the strokes of his fingers. You feel so full of his digits, and it takes you a moment to trust yourself not to cry at the ceiling the second you remove your hand from your mouth. 

“Took a long shower the day before yesterday, after the kids had gone to school and Seb was napping,” you begin with shaking breaths. You need to start the sentence three times before you can make your words make sense, “Used the faucet on the bathtub and came so goddamn hard. You should’ve seen me with my legs up against the wall.”

Below you, Javier hums in approval and it vibrates through your throbbing pussy. You continue.

“I imagined you going down on me with your warm tongue, circling my clit— yes, just like that,” just talking about it makes you gush from how horny it makes you, wetness dripping past Javier’s lips and into his mouth. He groans against you and mouths at your pulsing clit. You find yourself much closer from how well your body remembers the orgasm you had in the shower; the warm water pounding rhythmically against your clit, your toes curling, and— and. 

You grind into his mouth and fuck yourself on his fingers as you come, the hot and heavy feeling of an orgasm crashing over you and intensifying as it peaks. You have to bite your lip to keep from screaming, still not managing to keep the high-pitched ah! from reverberating through the room. Javier’s fingers feel so much bigger inside of you as your cunt strangles them, and when you look down at him, you see that he is crashing his hips against the bed to feel just a bit of relief. 

You have lost all restraint in your noises as you feel the pleasure ebb out, leaving you a whimpering and panting mess on the bed that wants it all. Somehow you are deeply satisfied at the same time as knowing that this is not enough; you need all of him, and you need him inside of your cunt until you can barely move from the spot. The fact that your body still works when he pulls his fingers from you is an indication of not having had enough. 

“Need to fuck you,” he says from below you, crawling on top of you. He has left a damp spot on the sheets from where his cock has dragged against them, and he looks like he is in pain at this point if he doesn’t get to feel you around him, “Now, mi amor (my love).”

“No,” you stop him as he tries spreading your legs with a gentle yet hurried hand.

“No?” His brows furrow, a protest on the tip of his tongue. 

“Let me ride you,” you beg, already pushing on his shoulders and feeling how he is giving in in an instant, “Please, I want you so deep in me.”

“Yes, yeah, okay,” he breathes, moving to lie on his back with a pillow under his head. You shake as you lift yourself to straddle him, holding out your arms in front of yourself to signal that you want him to be close to you. He reads you without you saying anything and sits up in your bed so you can be chest to chest. 

You reach beneath yourself to take hold of the base of his cock, holding him in place so you can sink down on his shaft until he is buried inside of you to the hilt. You are dripping wet. The motion of engulfing him in your heat is smooth and effortless, and the moans the both of you let out are closer to whines because you are so starved. 

“It’s so good, you’re so wet, baby,” he mumbles quietly in your ear, nosing along the spot behind it. You arch into him, nodding without any words coming to your mind. Instead, you let out a soft gasp as he fucks up into you. 

Nothing describes being this close to him after not even being able to kiss him for three days. Other couples would shake their heads if they knew how desperate you get from merely three days apart. You only feel sorry for them. They don’t get how your days are spent with taking every opportunity to lay eyes on each other, breathe and taste each other or even just being able to put a hand on each other’s shoulder, hip, the small of the back. 

“Let me,” you pant as he moves underneath you, sending you into a state where you need to concentrate if you want to get out a proper sentence, “I want to fuck this cock. Please, let me.”

Javier stills his hips underneath you. He seems to be holding his breath as he watches you place your hands on his shoulders and then feel them slide behind his head to tilt his head backward. He looks up at you as you start moving on him, rocking in his lap so he barely pulls out of you. 

“Come on, that’s a good girl,” he says when he finally sucks in a breath, eyes gazing up at you with a pussydrunk look in them. When they glaze over like this, you know his words will be ravenous and never-ending, “Fuck, baby. That’s it. There you go. Let me touch you so deep inside.”

It doesn’t take long for him to be distracted by your moving chest as you sensually drag your hips over his thick cock. He did tell you that he had missed your breasts but that had been in a slightly playful manner; you never thought that you would actually start to feel beautiful under his hungry eyes. It shouldn’t come as a shock to you because he always knows how to make you feel desirable. 

“Attagirl,” he groans, holding your hip tightly with his right hand to help you keep your balance, “God, look at those pretty tits.”

You arch your back as he puts his other hand on your left breast, bending his head down to mouth along the swell until he reaches your nipple. He swirls his tongue once but it is too hard to keep going when you move more frantically on top of him to pleasure yourself, so instead, he wraps his whole mouth around the hardened, spit-slicked peak and sucks until your cunt clamps down in surprise of how good it feels.

“Fuck,” you pant, closing your eyes. The noises of him sucking on your breasts fill your ears and along with how it is making your belly swirl, it makes you impossibly wetter, coating his dick in a milky-white ring. A lewd thought enters your mind. Perhaps, he keeps knocking you up because of this; your cup size has remained the same for a while because you’ve been breastfeeding for months now, and with another baby on its way, you know that the months will keep adding up in the near future.

A drop slips into his mouth and spurs him on to give you a thorough taste. Your brows pull together as a more high-pitched moan leaves your open mouth and he pulls back to shush you gently. Then he sucks greedily again. 

You had once asked him why he loved this, and he had replied that the very fact that you were producing milk so sweet to nurture his child went straight to his dick. 

“Javi,” you whine to tell him just how you feel. He removes his mouth from your sensitive chest to talk, albeit reluctantly. However, when he notices the change in your sounds and your pitch, he doesn’t want to look away from your face again until he has seen you lose it. 

“Oh, you wanna come, huh? Then fuck me,” he says with milk-stained lips. You move desperately in his lap as he spurs you on, feeling the head of his cock dragging back and forth inside of you, laying against your g-spot perfectly if you tilt your hips just a bit. Javier’s eyes burn as they stare up at you but he cannot help himself from occasionally glancing down at your bouncing tits. Your need to come grows, and when you press down slightly harder, you see stars behind your eyelids. A second orgasm tears through you, and one of the hands that has gripped your hip hard enough to bruise comes up to cover your mouth because you start screaming. It’s so intense to have missed him so much. 

“There she is,” he growls lowly, watching your face contort with pleasure until tears slide down your face and underneath his palm that’s tightly secured over your whining mouth, “That’s my good girl. You know how to come on this fucking cock, fuck, you feel so good, mi vida (my life), choking my dick. Keep going— no no, don’t stop, ride through it, baby.”

You force yourself to continue moving and keep crying into his hand, wet from drool and tears by now. The oversensitivity is mind-numbing, toe-curling, and somehow still not enough.

“Almost made me come, mi chica sucía y desesperada (my dirty, eager girl),” he says through a breathless chuckle but then raises his brows as your pitch starts climbing once again. You have successfully bypassed your body and started building up another high, “You’re gonna come again? Díos mio (my God), my beautiful wife is insatiable.”

Any chance of talking back at him is lost because you would wake up the whole neighborhood if he dared remove his hand from your mouth. To put his filthy mouth in its place, you start bouncing in his lap to the point where his naked thighs crash harshly into your ass. The sound of skin slapping against skin is dirty but Javier’s desperate groans are obscene. He can barely talk now without his voice wavering, and with the way he repeats himself, you know he is doing everything in his power to let you come one more time before he bursts, “Use my cock, yes like that. K-keep going— you’re gonna make me come. Oh fuck.” 

When he notices that you are trying to say something, he removes his hand and allows you a single sentence before clamping the hand down over your mouth again. 

“I can’t do it anymore,” you whimper with exhaustion, thighs having started to tremble with the effort you are putting into bouncing in his lap. They hurt at this point, straining despite how much you also use your arms to steer yourself.

“Don’t worry about it, Go until you can’t fucking do it anymore and I’ll take over, yeah?” He nods at you when you make a mhm-noise into his hand, eyes encouraging and his breaths less composed. 

When you come a second time on his dick, you falter immediately. The sensation of the pleasure that has built up so fast again crashes down and takes you with it in its fall. You are silent when it’s teetering on the edge, and then it makes your voice crack when you feel the first tug behind your throbbing clit. 

There is only the feeling of your convulsing cunt making you believe in a higher power - in this case, Javier fucking Peña - and then said higher power wrapping his arm around your sticky back to lift you up and down. He snaps his hips upwards to use your body for his own pleasure, and after a series of frantic movements, he comes with a groan. The feeling of his warm spill inside of you has you whimpering, and you try your best to rock your hips the best your exhausted body can. If it weren’t for all the dopamine in your system, you are sure it would hurt. 

“Yes, yes, yesyesyes. Oh, baby, fuck the come out of me, yes, that’s it,” he chants underneath you as he fills you up, moving to meet you halfway until he also has no more to give.  When he stills, he grabs your face to smash your lips together in a messy, desperate kiss that is more teeth than anything else. It feels impossible to get close enough to him, even if your chests stick together from sweat.

A moment later, you fall down onto his chest with a chuckle, head swimming from what you have just done. Your arms lie on either side of his head, and your cheek is pressed into his hair. You can feel his nose dig into your shoulder, inhaling you and your post-sex scent, and his arms tighten around your waist as he hugs you close. 

“That was fantastic,” you groan with him still inside of you. He gives you one more thrust, pressing his hips upwards, and you half-moan in oversensitivity and half-laugh in surprise, “Stop it, Peña.”

He laughs breathlessly, placing a kiss on your bare skin. Then he slips out of you with a grunt, and you feel his come drip from you already, down onto his cock and thighs. He rubs your sides with his broad hands, “I have missed you as well, you know.”

“I don’t ever want you to go again,” you demand sillily. 

“You say that every time.”

“I mean it every time.”

There’s a pause between the two of you. It lasts several minutes where you just lie on top of his chest. 5, 10, 15 minutes pass. Javier says nothing yet you know him well enough to know that he is considering his words. 

“I was thinking of something,” he finally says. 

You sit up at that, “What?” 

“You know how I said something about work during Christmas? That I wanted to be more home with you and the kids, that it would make me happier?” He begins, looking up at you and not hesitating in his eye contact with you. 

You suddenly pay a lot more attention, “Yeah?”

“I was thinking that since I will have a bunch of kids to carry around a lot more years from now, I can’t be running around in the force anymore. My back is fucking killing me, and I also want to make love to my wife on the regular,” he tells you and you know instantly that it’s serious even if he says it with a chuckle, “I was thinking of teaching at the local college. They have a criminology course, and with my time in school with my head in the books - I mean, my bachelor’s degree - it shouldn’t be a problem to get a job there.”

“Are you serious?” You gape at him. 

“Yes, of course, I am,” he furrows his brow slightly. Only now, he looks unsure but still keeps talking, “It would mean nothing of this sort either; me going away.”

“Babe, that’s amazing,” you fall down into him again, causing an umph-noise from your husband, and then you crash your lips into his. You kiss him as if your life depended on it, sliding your fingers through his dark hair and tugging slightly as if trying to get him even closer to you. 

He looks drunk and disheveled when you pull back again, a goofy and satisfied smile on his face. His fingers scratch slightly along your back, “You’d like that, huh?”

“Yes, please,” you beam with happiness. 

“Then you shall have it, mi vida (my life),” his hands travel down to your ass which he gropes obscenely, and when you make a noise, he smacks your right cheek. You feel his cock, hard again, poke into your thigh.

You look down between you, “This is a surprise. I thought you’d gotten old…”

“Like I said…” He grabs your waist and pulls you down to lie on your back. A yelp escapes your lips. 

He is inside of you mere seconds after, causing you to longingly whine. He thrusts once then twice, and you throw your head back to take it, “…I’ve missed you.”

.

.

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[thelov3lybookworm]

Hiii!!!

I know that you have a lot of other fics to write but I couldn’t get this idea out of my head

So imagine the reader and Azriel have a daughter and she’s 3 and she has a crush on a boy in her daycare’s class, and when she got home with the reader, Azriel heard her talking about him to the reader, so the next day Azriel decides to pick her up from daycare and when he sees the boy, he’s just glaring at him

I don’t really know if this makes sense but overprotective Az is so🤭…

THANK YOUUU💗💗💗

Overprotective Bat

Summary: No one is allowed to talk to Azriel's Princess.

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A/n: Anon, i love you soo much for sending this in. I loved writing it, i literally giggled when you sent this in lol

Enjoy!

•○🌑○•

"And then what happened?"

Azriel's shadows became alert, rushing to crowd against the windows to watch as their favourite two people walked upto the door. Azriel smiled, putting away the report he was revising before he had to send it to Rhysand, getting ready to be bombarded with all the details from his daughter's- Hazel's- day at the daycare.

"Kaden asked me to play with him." The smile that appeared on Azriel's face when he heard his little princess's voice faded when he realised what she had said, and he stiffened, his hand hovering above his desk. He turned his head just slightly, wondering who this he was.

"And did you play with him?" The jangling of the keys sounded as Y/n opened the door, and their voices were louder when they next spoke.

"Yes mommy! We played hide and seek first, and the he pushed me while I sat on the swing."

Y/n hummed as Azriel began descending the stairs faster than his wings could have carried him.

"So you like him?"

Y/n's tone was teasing, and Azriel could hear Hazel giggling, but he did not like this conversation one bit, and he felt the need to stop it from progressing.

So he walked out, a huge smile on his face that was at odds with the way he was feeling.

"Daddy!" Hazel's eyes lit up, and her smile widened as she ran towards him, her arms splayed wide. Some of the tension in the spymaster's shoulders lessened, and he picked her up, clutching her wiggling body to his chest. He tried to kiss her cheek, which only ended up in her giggling loudly while trying to push him away because she thought he was trying to tickle her.

Y/n met Azriel's eyes and smiled wide, walking over to peck his cheek.

"I'm going to go and get changed, don't do something to get in trouble."

He huffed indignantly, meeting his daughter's eyes. "As if I do anything to get in trouble."

She giggled, clinging to him. he swayed a little, pressing a kiss to her forehead before he set her down. "Come, let's get you changed too."

Hazel nodded, reaching up to wrap her fingers around his finger. Her small fingers wrapping around his big, scarred hands always had an overwhelming amount of pride and joy coursing through him.

"So, what happened in your daycare today?"

And so began the onslaught of details from his little princess's day.

•○🌑○•

Azriel did not like going to pick his daughter up from her daycare, but only because he did not want to scare the other people who had come to pick their kids up.

But now his motive was exactly that as he stood right next to the gates, his wings tucked tightly to his back so no one could touch them.

And he would say he was succeeding in his mission. It was like there was an invisible wall surrounding him, and everyone tried to stay away from him. He just hoped the boy's parent was also in the crowd, so when they found out exactly who Hazel's father was, they would tell him to stay away from her.

Proud of himself and very nearly patting himself on the back, he waited for his little girl.

The door to the daycare opened, and all the children spilled out, running, giggling and screaming, across the playground towards their parents.

Azriel spied a head of hair the same as his, two small braids adoring her little head, and grinned slightly.

Though his grin vanished when he found her holding the hand of a boy, smiling and walking up to the gates.

The moment her eyes landed on him, she gasped, tugging on the boys hand while pointing, and Azriel could read her lips as she yelled, that's my daddy!

She let go of the boy's hand and ran- waddled, really- up to her father, who could not contain his smile.

He leaned down, his arms reaching out to grab her the moment she was close enough. She squealed as he hauled her up against himself, peppering kisses on every inch of her chubby little face.

"Did my princess miss daddy today?"

"Yes daddy!" Then, as if she just remembered, she turned her head and beckoned to the boy she had been holding hands with. The boy's eyes were wide as he stared at Azroel's huge form, his massive wings, his shadows. Azriel flared his wings a little just for the sake of it.

If possible, the boy's eyes went wider, and his steps faltered, meeting Azriel's eyes.

And Azriel knew that he was being an asshole, but he glared at the boy with no restraint.

The boy's eyes filled with tears, and he turned away, sprinting back towards the daycare, his hands held to his eyes to staunch the tears.

Azriel instantly felt guilty, and when his daughter turned to him with furrowed brows, he wanted to run to the boy and apologise. But before he could do anything, a voice spoke up.

"I am glad you feel guilty."

Azriel froze, glancing back at his mate sheepishly.

She shook her head, taking Hazel from Azriel, kissing her cheeks before setting her down. "I knew you had ulterior motives when you asked me if you could pick Hazel up today. You need to stop being such an overprotective bat."

Azriel kissed Y/n's forehead in hopes that she would let him off easy, but she glared at him when he pulled away.

"Mommy? Is Kaden angry with me?"

"No darling, he maybe just got scared. You can talk to him tomorrow and let him know there is nothing to be scared of."

Azriel couldn't stop the scoff that escaped him, and Y/n turned to stare him down.

"Sorry." He mumbled lowly before grabbing Hazel's hand. "Do you want to have some ice cream before we go home?"

Y/n opened her mouth to protest, but Hazel and her father were already running away.

•○🌑○•

General Taglist: @bubybubsters @eos-princess @nightless @harrystylesfan2686 @cassie6392

Azriel Taglist: @darthdumbasss @foreverrandomwritings @kennedy-brooke @hnyclover @minnieoo @sidrapotter

#azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger #azriel #azriel fic #acotar #acotar fandom #acotar fanfic #acotar fluff #acotar series #acotar writing #mating bond #sarah j maas #a court of thorns and roses #acotar headcanon #azriel spymaster #azriel acotar #acotar fanfiction #azriel fanfic #azriel x you

[motimatcha]

rings

hazbin hotel Adam x fem!reader. Adam boasts; you think; a little hint of something more at the end.

— Yo, [name] check out what I have, — Adam says enthusiastically, bursting into your shared bedroom.

By the time the angel entered the room, you had just finished changing into your home clothes in the form of a very long and loose shirt, which hid your home shorts. The shirt, by the way, previously belonged to Adam, but he was nice enough to share part of his wardrobe with you.

— Oh, how sweet, apparently someone missed me, — Adam says touchingly, and stars are reflected in his eyes when he pays attention to your appearance.

Taking off the mask from his face and turning his head in different directions, allowing his gray hair to take its natural position, Adam plops down on your bed. He lies in place for a while, allowing himself to stretch out to his full height, until a joint crack and a sigh are heard. And only after that he rises again on his elbows to take his place next to you.

Adam falls silent again, enjoying the silence of the moment and the fact that you both are together again. Your hand falls on his head, closes in his gray hair and twists individual strands around his fingers, prompting the man to blissfully close his eyes and practically fall asleep under your gentle hands. His golden wings flutter from this sensation and he, more instinctively than acting on his own will, covers your body with one of his wings.

Adam puts his hand under your body, you feel something cold, but you prefer not to pay attention to it, thinking that the angel’s hands were simply frozen; Adam’s other hand rests on your stomach, his long fingers tracing circles and patterns on your skin.

— So, what did you want to show me?

— Oh, fuck, that's right. I almost forgot about that, — Adam snaps his head up, causing you to remove your hand from his hair. — Look look.

He shows you the hand that was rubbing your stomach. In the light of the room lamp, you notice that something shines on his fingers and a second later you realize that they are black rings: one on the little finger, two rings on the index finger and one on the thumb — made of black metal, without any inserts or decorations, The rings complemented his rock star look and definitely suited him in his exorcist attire. But it could not be denied that the rings on his long fingers, as if designed for wearing such accessories, looked delicious. And it's hot…

— A gift after the concert from… whatever that bitch’s name was… it doesn’t matter, — the angel explained, taking your long glance as a question. — It’s on the other hand too. By the way, I left you one too.

…you imagined how those ringed fingers would tease your pussy…

— …I’m thinking about getting myself a piercing…

…you imagined how those fingers with rings would clasp your neck, tickling your nerves from the feeling of the coldness of the metal and its hot skin…

— …Maybe I’ll pierce my tongue and put something in my ears.

...you imagined how Adam would plunge his fingers into your mouth, making them suck like the sweetest candy or his dick...

— What do you think, sweetie?

— What?

— Hey, weren’t you fucking listening to me? — Adam asks with offense in his voice and looks into your face. Your gaze is distant, thoughtful, lustful… Adam's lips are distorted into a smirk when he catches the motive of your thoughts. — Oh, baby, I see you like my ideas. And my rings.

Adam’s voice is deceptively gentle, practically purring in your ear as he shifts his position. The man sits down at your bent knees and in one smooth motion pushes your knees to the side to make himself comfortable.

— I think I can give this good girl all my attention.

the idea came into my head after a tik tok video where adam had rings and piercings and now i can't stop thinking about it. Maybe it's time for me to go touch the grass. I don't think the world will collapse if I send you a link to the video.

#adam x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel adam x reader #hazbin hotel x reader

[endlessthxxghts]

Joel Nye, The Science Guy

no outbreak!Joel Miller x afab!reader || W/C: ≈4.6k

"Is he really choosing coffee right now over having you? I mean, not to toot your own fucking horn, but seriously. Who would delay an orgasm for some coffee? Apparently, Joel fucking Miller would."

Summary: Joel stumbles across an article online about the effects of coffee on the body. Determined to uncover the truth, he tests the hypothesis with you as his subject.

Contents/Warnings: Any physical description of reader is neutral (no size descriptions). Joel is bigger than you though (but he’s fucking huge in general, so…). No age mentioned for reader or for Joel. Implied established relationship. No matter what age, Joel is a grandpa when it comes to technology. Mentions of Amazon LMAO. SMUT 18+ MDNI (mutual masturbation on the phone, touching yourself in the workplace, dirty talk, sexting [kinda], ..kitchen activities…reflections…, finger fucking, lots of liquids, squirting, cumming untouched, drinking coffee with an ulterior motive!, allusion to further sexual endeavors). Please let me know if I missed anything!

A/N: Happy New Year, my loves! I just got done rewatching TLOU for the millionth time while drinking some coffee, and for some reason, this was born. I have no idea wtf this is, so don't ask me.💚 Also let’s thank @javierpena-inatacvest for titling this silly thing for me hehe. Fucking iconic. I love you, bestie.🥹 Here's to my first fic of 2024, and to many more! I hope you enjoy.💚

MASTERLIST

Joel’s number one favorite sensation every morning was when the first drop of the bitter, black liquid met his tongue, consuming all his senses into nothing but pure coffee. It was one of his favorite things—past tense—because then he got to experience what it was like waking up to you every morning, what it was like tasting you every morning. The first drop of you blessed his tongue one year ago, and he never looked back.

That is, until now. 

You had work today and Joel had the day off, a rare occurrence. You forgot to set your alarm this morning, so you broke from his hold in a rush, leaving him nothing but a sweet kiss to last him the day. 

Usually your mornings together are spent tangled in his sheets until he leaves you with less than twenty minutes to get ready for your day. Too addicted to the way he makes you feel, you mastered the art of quick change, using the rest of your time to do your morning skincare routine. This, you’ll never skip—subjecting yourself to a few scoldings by your boss because of it.

Joel allowed himself a few more hours of sleep after you left, his body needing extra rest from his unusually crazy day at the job site yesterday and from the way you pounced on him as soon as he came home. You promised him it would be you doing all the work, but like the addicting little thing you are, he couldn’t help but take charge so he could watch you fall apart over and over and over again. 

Joel pulled himself out of his bed, a chill running down his body from leaving the trapped body heat of the sheets. He was hard, of course, and usually you’re there to help with his morning problem, but apparently today’s full of rare events for Joel. He grumbles to himself as he makes the way to the bathroom, not wanting to take care of himself without you, not anymore. He could wait for you to be home, but he knows he’d be a leaking, grumpy mess all day—God forbid he has to interact with another human in that aroused, frustrated state. He checks the little clock you bought for his bathroom counter when you moved in—so I can watch the time when I get ready for work, you scolded him when he made you late for the first time. 

11:48 the clock displays; twelve more minutes until your break. He can wait twelve minutes. You usually close your office during your lunch, don’t you? Maybe he can call you. He might as well do his own morning routine while he waits. Joel’s old morning routines consisted of brushing his teeth, then washing his face with soap and water. Though, upon witnessing his wretched routine the first morning you two spent together, you were utterly appalled at his actions, forcing him to the store and spending the first half of your morning educating him on proper skincare. His morning routine went from four minutes to fifteen with your influence, but because he didn’t want to be a minute late in calling you, he shaved three minutes off from his task. 

As soon as the clock hit twelve, Joel plopped himself in bed, leaning against the headboard, and reached for his phone, immediately dialing you. 

Two rings later, and your sweet voice fills his ears. “Hi, baby,” you say. He can hear the small smile on your face. 

“Hi, darlin’,” Joel rasps, his voice still groggy from the lack of use. 

“You just wake up?” You jokingly scold, knowing damn well what the answer was. You like when he sleeps in. He deserves the rest from all that hard work he does. 

“Maybe,” he tells you. You can hear the smirk on his face now. “How’s work goin’? On your break now?”

“Work is… definitely going,” you huff. “And yeah, I’m on my break now, which means I’ve got an hour to counterproductively stress about these reports that have to go out.”

“I’m sorry, honey,” he tells you softly. But then he’s smirking again. “Can I help?”

“Help?” you repeat.

“Yeah,” he states like it’s the most regular answer ever. “Lemme help de-stress ya,” he adds, his voice dropping an octave. 

A heat consumes your face, but you remain calm. “Yeah?” You breathe. “And how would you help me, cowboy?” You ask him as you swiftly stand from your desk to lock your office door and close your blinds. 

“I reckon you just locked that door of yours, huh?” He asks rhetorically, knowing you better than you know yourself. Not even your past lovers would be able to pick up on the slightest of changes in your voice when you’re aroused. Joel picks up on it instantly. 

“Maybe,” you repeat his sentiment from earlier. 

“If I’m remembering correctly,” Joel says as he rubs his hand over his tenting bulge in an attempt to ease his ache. “You’ve got a couch in there, baby?”

“Yeah,” you whisper.

“Well, you know what to do next, babygirl.” 

Glancing at your door to make sure it’s really locked, you make your way to your couch, unbuttoning your jeans in the process and shucking them down as your ass meets the cushion. Fuck, you’re already soaked. 

“Where are you?” You ask him, your fingers ghosting your core over the wet patch on your panties.

As soon as the words leave your mouth, your phone buzzes. Joel sent you a text. An image. Clicking it, a breathy little whimper escapes you. “Fuck.” He’s leaning against the headboard, legs pushed open, his thick thighs on display. He’s just wearing his boxers, and his hand is inside, gripping onto his length. His leaking, angry tip is showing from the top of his boxers. A little circle catches your eye, and- oh. It’s a live photo. You hold down on the image, and you see his hips jerk into his hand. “Fuck,” you say again, your pussy twitching in excitement yet frustration that you can’t have him inside you right now. “I need you so fucking bad, Joel,” you whine into the phone as your fingers finally dip inside. 

“I need you, too, baby,” he groans, “I’m fuckin’ dyin’ over here.” He sounds so pained. It riles you up even more. Your fingers speed up at his words, breathy moans escaping you. You circle your clit a few more times before reaching lower and dipping your middle and index finger inside of you. Joel hears the faintest sound of a squelch, and the grip on his cock tightens. He pulls his boxers completely down over his thighs, his cock completely free, and he tugs at a slow, teasing pace in an effort to build himself up the way you normally do for him. “Let me hear you, baby, let me hear you touch yourself for me.”

Lord, you hope your room is sound proofed enough because without any hesitation, you’re putting him on speaker and setting your phone down near your cunt, pumping in and out of yourself faster and deeper for him to hear. “J-Joel, f-fuck,” you stutter, “I- I’m-”

“You’re close, baby, I know,” he says soothingly. You can hear the slick sound of his hand speed up. Your other hand falls to your clit as your fingers continue inside. “Let go for me, mi amor, soak those fingers as if it were my cock fuckin’ you,” he rambles. “Just like I know you can, baby, atta fuckin’ girl.”

With the help of his filthy mouth, your body seizes up and you’re seeing stars, your eyes falling to the back of your head as you remove your hand from your clit to slap it over your mouth in an attempt to stop the high-pitched, purely pornographic moan of his name from escaping the walls of your not-so private office. You can hear the moment Joel cums, too, a painful groan roars from his throat as you hear the movements slow but get slippier with each pass over. 

You’re on the phone for a few moments more, listening to each other’s breaths, slowly fixing your clothing as you let your heart rate return to normal. 

“Joel,” you finally have enough strength to say. 

“Yeah, darlin’?”

He hears a faint knock on your door. You pull the phone away to lessen your volume on his end. Just a moment, he hears you call out. “Gonna need more of you when I get home.” 

“Yes, ma’am,” Joel replies more than happily.

After your phone call, Joel cleans and dresses himself up and heads to the kitchen. 

Joel can’t help the way your words bounce around his head. Gonna need more of you when I get home.

“And I’m definitely gonna need a fuck ton of you today,” he mutters to the bag of Colombian coffee grounds he pulls out of his kitchen cabinet. He refills the machine with water, inserts a filter, pours two heaping spoonfuls of the ground beans into the compartment, places a mug, and hits start. He goes to put the coffee away, but it’s then he feels how lightweight the bag is starting to feel. 

Genuinely, he begins to panic. He needs to order more, and he needs to do it now. He cannot go a day without his precious coffee. The brand he orders is online only, and usually he would wait for you to help him place the order, but he doesn’t want to risk hitting the cutoff for same day delivery. 

Joel isn’t that old, and he certainly grows with the time period, but when it comes to technology, he’s worse than your 97-year-old grandmother who attempts to group FaceTime both of you every night. Sure, he knows how to send you pictures, but that’s the extent of his ability. Truly. With his coffee in mind, though, he puts on his bravest face and opens Safari. He searches for the website you’re always on. A, he types. M. A. Z. 

There! Amazon. He clicks the website, not knowing the app is already installed on his phone. He sees the smiling logo, and, proud of himself, he smiles back at it. 

The smile is quick to fade, however, because the intricacies of working the website is giving him heart palpitations. He sets his phone down and reaches for his reading glasses in his pocket and slides them on. He picks up his phone again. 

The thing about using Amazon on a phone through a search engine, though, is that the website is constantly glitching. So when he types in the word coffee, he has zero idea how he ended up on a completely different website, his original search lost in the complicated webs of the internet. 

It takes him a moment to realize what he’s reading, but once it registers, it’s way more interesting than his original task. 

Women reporting intensified orgasms after drinking coffee, the headline read. His eyes begin to scan lower. Researchers concluded there was a “correlation between caffeine and sex” after testing its effects on rats.

Oh, yeah, he’s intrigued. 

After reading the article, Joel restarts his original task and ends up ordering a larger amount of coffee than he normally would. In the name of science, he rationalized with himself.

Satisfied with his accomplishments, he grabs his mug and takes the time to enjoy his cup of pure caffeine. He needs the energy after all.

You get off promptly at 4pm, not wanting to spend any more time in your office—especially with the way you’ve been buzzing with need ever since your noon phone call. As soon as you park, you see an Amazon delivery person dropping off a box. They don’t ring the doorbell, and you know Joel doesn’t pay attention to the delivery notifications.

You get out of your car, leaving your things to get later. You reach the front porch and unlock and open the door first, bending down and picking up the box second. 

Joel greets you at the door, immediately cursing himself for not paying attention to the door, resulting in you doing the heavy lifting. He knows you’re more than capable—Hell, you could probably handle his job better than he can—but his Southern upbringing is too deeply rooted into him to allow anything less. 

“Hi, my love, I’m sorry, I coulda brought that in, baby,” he tells you as he takes the box from your grasp, giving you a forehead kiss as a trade off. The warmth of his lips physically relaxes you. 

You two walk towards the kitchen, Joel sets the box down on the counter. “I just parked as they dropped it off, honey, it was no biggie,” you reply softly. 

“I know, baby, but you know I-” he starts. You don’t let him finish as you grab him by his biceps and pull him into you, your arms finding their home wrapped around his neck as his grip completely wrapping your waist. Your lips slot together in a slow, needy embrace—your tongues slowly breaching each other’s mouths. You swallow the groans escaping his throat as you pull away from him. 

“I know,” you say breathily, eyes as dark as his morning coffee. “Won’t do it again, promise,” you smile, knowing this is the only false promise you’ll ever make. At the rate of how hard you work him in other things, carrying a few heavy boxes is the least you could do every now and then. “Now, please undress me, baby,” you whimper, your hand skating down the front of his body, your deft fingers sliding into his waistband. 

With one arm around your waist, another claws at your top, untucking it from your jeans to lift it over your head as he kisses and nips all over your jaw and neck. He turns your body so that your ass meets the counter, pushing his hips into yours, silently telling you to jump up. 

Too eager, you don’t realize the trajectory of your jump, and your ass smacks the package, causing it to almost slip off the edge. The impact to your rear surprises you enough to pull away from Joel and look back. Apparently, your brain is already turned to mush because you completely forgot about that box’s existence. 

However, now that you’re looking at it, you’re confused. You haven’t ordered anything recently. Did Joel order something? But he doesn’t even know how- 

“You okay, darlin’?” Joel asks, pausing all his movements. 

“Did you order something?” You ask.

His cheeks go red. “Yeah.. we were runnin’ out of my coffee ‘n I didn’t want to not have any for tomorrow or for later ‘n I wasn’t sure what time you’d be home to help me-” 

The bubbly sounds of your giggles are what cut him off. “What?” He asks, slightly defensive and slightly giddy at the sweetness blessing his ears. 

“You ordered something!” You exclaim. “You ordered something! And you were successful with it!” You’re gasping for air, speaking your excitement into his chest as you wrap yourself around him. 

“Don’t make fun a’me,” he pouts, grabbing your chin with his thumb and forefinger, giving your face a little scolding shake. 

“Oh, baby, no,” you coo, your laughter calming down because of the pain in your cheeks from smiling so wide. “I’m not making fun. I’m so proud!” your voice raises back up, as if you were talking to a baby who hit their first big milestone. 

He rolls his eyes. “Baby, don’t be like that,” you say as you lean in to give him a soft kiss. He gives in, of course, and he deepens it. “I really am proud,” you say as you attempt to pull away. 

He doesn’t let you. “Yeah, yeah,” he says sardonically in between kisses. 

Your hand drags up and grabs at his jaw, pulling him away so you can speak. “Now you don’t have to ask me to order things for you anymore,” you say with a smirk.

“Mmm, I don’t think so,” he breathes, trying to push against your hold on him. “Worst experience ever, I even-” 

He cuts himself off because he was so caught up in you when you got home, he forgot about the little detour his internet experience took him on today. 

Women reporting intensified orgasms after drinking coffee. 

“Actually,” he redirects. “Can we have some now?”

Your eyes pop out of your head in astonishment. “Right now?” you ask in disbelief. 

He gulps. “Y-yeah, right now. That okay?”

You don’t see why not besides the fact that his erection has been perched right against the soaked fabric of your panties for the last fifteen minutes and you’ll probably go mad if you don’t actually get relief in the next five minutes—but yeah, sure. Why not?

“I guess?” You say. Or ask? You really don’t know anymore. 

Is he really choosing coffee right now over having you? I mean, not to toot your own fucking horn, but seriously. Who would delay an orgasm for some coffee? Apparently, Joel fucking Miller would.

You’re not really a coffee person. Sure, you have a cup here and there—mostly iced and from your favorite local shop on your way to work—but compared to Joel, you are nowhere near the level he is. 

“How do you want it?” He asks, his back turned to you as he prepares two mugs. 

“Rough,” you mutter, slightly annoyed. You can feel the slick in your underwear start to get cold—and dry. 

Joel briefly turns around catching your eye; he points to his ear. “Say that again, sweetheart?” 

Fuck. Okay, maybe you’re being a little too bitchy. You rise from your seat at the counter, perching yourself right beside him, reaching your hand into his curls to give him a little head scratch. “I’ll do it, baby,” you say. “Thank you.” With your hand still at the back of his head, you guide him to look at you as you stand on your tippy toes to give him a soft kiss.

The coffee, honestly, wasn’t that bad. Yeah, you put your usual creamer and sugar, but you put slightly less—curious to get a glimpse of the natural flavor Joel loves so much. You could get used to it like this, you think. One thing is for sure, though: the brand Joel buys is fucking strong. You’re on your last sip, and you are struggling—you can feel your heart pumping out of your chest, and you swear you feel like your entire body is pulsing. Like you can hear your blood coursing through your veins. You don’t tell Joel because you don’t want to sound weird, so you shrug the feeling away and take your last sip. Perfectly in sync with you, Joel finishes off his coffee and reaches for your mug to also bring to the sink. 

Quickly letting the faucet run into the mugs so the coffee doesn’t stain, Joel speaks up. “How was it, darlin’? I know you don’t really enjoy coffee the way I do,” he notes. 

“Actually, baby, I really enjoyed it,” you say with a genuine smile. 

“Yeah?” He asks, a boyish grin sneaking past his lips.

“Yeah,” you reassure. “It was really strong, though,” you add. 

“Strong?” he asks, eyebrow quirked. 

“Yeah, um-” you start, unsure of how to describe it. “I don’t know, I just- I’ve never had coffee make my entire body feel like- like it’s buzzing or something. I don’t know,” you ramble. 

“Huh,” he says to no one in particular. “I mean, it is one of the stronger roasts,” he tells you. Is this because you were already severely worked up beforehand? It can’t be the placebo effect—he didn’t even tell you about his discoveries. 

Guess there’s only one way to go from here. 

Not giving you a chance to respond, his hands find your waist, pulling your back flush to his chest. He kisses your jaw, trailing his lips down the juncture of your neck and shoulder. Your head falls back onto him, your eyes fluttering shut as you give him full access. His fingers skate across the front of your jeans, your shirt already untucked from his earlier attempt. Your hips buck into his hands in response, a whiny little please leaves your mouth. 

“Shh, I got ya, sweet girl,” he rasps in your ear, his drawl licking a heat up your spine. He adjusts himself so he’s the one leaning against the kitchen counter, your body entirely relying on his support to keep you standing. 

He’s unbuttoning your jeans and right away you’re reaching for the zipper, helping him pull your bottoms down in one go. 

You’re shaking in his grasp, too pent up with a need your body doesn’t know what to do with. “Relax, baby, I’ma take care a’ya,” he says with a nip to your shoulder, his middle and ring finger already finding their place running through your soaked folds. 

Your eyes shut at the sensation, your breathing erratic and vocal. He drags your slick up to your throbbing bundle of nerves, circling with a precision only he knows how to provide. “F-fuck,” you moan. His other hand slides down to your sex, his two fingers going straight for your entrance and sliding in with ease with how much is pouring from you. “Fuckfuckfuck-”

“Gonna cum on my fingers, babygirl?” He’s pumping in and out of you at a languid pace even with the squirm of your hips. The stimulation on your clit never falters. “I can feel that pretty pussy flutter ‘round me, darlin’, I know she’s close.”

“J-Joel, please,” you let out, your head bobbing back and forth, unable to keep its heavy weight up.

Before he even realizes what he’s doing, he’s using his foot to kick your legs further apart, settling yours on the outside of his, and then both of you are dropping to the ground. His back is to the wall of the kitchen island while you land perfectly spread open atop his lap. Not worried about his or your balance anymore, he fucks into you harder, applying more pressure on your clit—the kind that makes you want to force your legs shut but you can’t, not with the way his own legs are keeping you open. “Open your eyes, sweet girl, need ya to look at yourself when you fuckin’ soak me.”

You open your eyes immediately and cast your eyes downward to his hands on you. “Nuh uh,” Joel tuts. His hand working your clit comes up to your jaw, your slick dampening your jaw as he guides you to look straight forward. Your reflection stares back at you from the dark oven window. Even in the dull image its showing you, you can see the way your pussy is glistening in the fluorescent kitchen light, the sweat dripping down your temples, your fucked-out face with Joel’s dark gaze ravaging every part of you. 

Everything—all of your senses—is completely Joel, Joel, Joel, and before you know it, you’re gushing into his hand; his newfound liquid gold ever since he met you, collecting into the depths of his palm, all while you’re roaring and thrashing out in pure bliss on top of him. 

The sight, sound, the feel, everything—just like you—consumes him whole. His lust takes over now, and his hands aren’t stopping. They continue their pace—their assault—on your sensitive core. He peers down over your shoulder, and his cock grows impossibly harder at the messy, slippery sight before him. “Christ,” he mutters under his breath. “Gimme one more, c’mon,” he breathes in, your scent beginning to linger into his nose, crawling into his skin and finding its home there. “I know you can gimme one more, baby, always such a good fuckin’ girl f’me.”

Your head is nodding furiously as you fight with your eyes to stay open and locked on your reflection. Your babbling, spit thick and coating every inch of your mouth as you try and respond. Mhm and one and more and fuck break free from your mouth, giving all the green light Joel needs to know he isn’t going too far. 

You turn your head to face Joel, your hand flying to the back of his curls and pulling him for a kiss that’s all teeth and tongue—an intermingling of each other’s spit as you swallow the other’s coffee-tinged breaths. 

He feels the flutter in your cunt once more, but this time it’s stronger, tighter. The way you’re clamping down on him sends him into a frenzy, his hips rutting his erection into your lower back at the feel of your warmth wrapped around him. “C’mon, baby, let go, I feel you,” he encourages. 

“Fuck-!” A high-pitched gasp turned whine comes out of your mouth as your entire body goes rigid, your pussy uncontrollably fluttering and spasming as Joel fucks you through your high. All you see is white, your body is engulfed by a tingly feeling that only describing it as TV static could do it justice. Your breathing is deep and shallow all at one, but more notably, you feel wet. Completely and utterly soaked, you can feel liquid pooling at your asscheeks and on the hardwood floor. 

You finally gather the strength to look down—Joel too, and he steals the words right from your mouth. “Holy. Fuck.”

You two stay there for a moment, trying to gather your thoughts on what the fuck just happened, and finally, you speak first. 

“I just-” you start. 

“You did,” he finishes, equally as shocked. Amazed. 

“How are we gonna-”

He rubs your thighs. “Can you stand?” 

You think for a moment. “Yeah, I think so.”

“I’ll get up first. Then I’ll pull you up. Just don’t move, I don’t need ya slippin’ on-”

“Yeah, okay,” you stop him, feeling slightly embarrassed about it all. 

He stands up, avoiding the little puddle below; then he pulls you up, kneeling to pull your underwear on for some sense of emotional comfort. “Hey.” He nudges your face with his hand to look into his eyes. “That was fuckin’ incredible. Ya hear me?” Heat washes over your entire face. You say nothing. “It was so fuckin’ hot and sexy and so so beautiful, I’m fuckin’ lucky to have witnessed somethin’ so heavenly, darlin’.” He pulls you in for a kiss. “Ya hear me?” he repeats his question, softer this time. 

The embarrassment washes away in an instant. “Well,” you look into his eyes, a flash of trouble dancing across your orbs. “Felt fuckin’ incredible, too.”

“Yeah,” Joel says, grabbing and guiding your hand down to his cock. “It did feel mighty incredible,” smugness written all over his face. 

He dips your hand inside his pants, and you're met with his half-hard, sticky length. “Joel, did you-”

“That I did, baby, that I did.” 

A moment passes, and you burst out into laughter for the second time tonight. Only this time, Joel joins in, completely taking advantage of how sweet the comedown always is with you.

“I think I oughta drink more of that coffee,” you say out of the blue, taking Joel completely off guard as he finishes wiping up your… spill. 

“Why?” he asks, trying to maintain a normal tone.

“I swear, Joel,” you whisper as if there’s other people listening in. “I swear that coffee is the reason I finished so… intensely,” you finish, your eyebrows raised in intrigue and curiosity. 

“You really think so?” Joel asks, a victory smile threatening to escape him. 

“Yeah,” you tell him. “I think we should test it out. You’re off tomorrow, yeah?”

“Well, I am now.”

End note: The article Joel stumbled upon is a real article LOL. Here it is, in case any of you were interested. The article is from 2023, so by all means, picture 56 year old Joel. I’m imagining him a bit younger in this lil AU, but there’s no explicit age description, so imagine whatever the hell you want😘. And in case you were wondering: yes, he ends up telling you about his intentions behind wanting to drink coffee first. Let's just say... you both end up getting hyperfixated on trying to "prove" this theory even though you both damn well know what the result is. ;) All my love, I hope you guys enjoyed.💚

Be sure to follow @endlessthxxghtsnotifs to stay up to date with my stories!!

Utilizing my taglist a few more times just to have a slow transition to my updates blog! @katiexpunk @janaispunk @farmerlarrry @mellymbee @jobee403 @soavenuepenguin @rainbowcosmicchaos @untamedheart81 @lilynotdilly @babygal-babygal @pedritoferg @pedrostories @akah565 @getitoutofmymind @axshadows @survivingandenduring @joels-shitty-puns @its-nebuleuse @axshadows @yorksgirl

#endless thoughts fics #pedro pascal #pedrohub #pedro pascal character fanfic #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal smut #smut #fic #smut fic #one shot #pedrostories #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel x reader #joel miller one shot #joel miller x female reader #tlou fanfiction #tlou fic #tlou smut

[hiaon]

How bout oc x male robot reader?

Reader is a robot made to make life easier for other people, basically cleaning, cooking, teaching, etc. but there's a hidden feature that allows him to help people with sexual needs.

All bots are unique, cuz people get to customize them, from their hair to their clothes, but something that not many people know is that you can customize their dick size and tightness.

Male robots are programmed to be tops and female bots to be bottoms. But Oc manages to make reader a bottom somehow?

Bots are also really humanoid from their body to their personality, mean they can 'feel' pleasure.

My sweet angel

Programmer!Oc x Robot!BottomMale!Reader

Better late than never right? Btw don't be shy writing a request because sometimes I have a lot of motivation but also, no idea what to write at all 🥸.

Disclaimer: Sexual intercourse, & Dacryphilia

There is this company that grew a lot since it changed a lot of lives of the people a lot.

The company ' RoboNet ' grew because of their futuristic bots. It's decades advanced to other robots, and human like bots that you customize to your liking.

Either having it as a male or female. Long hair or short.. Even how they look like you can customize, it set the world on a storm on wanting one. Even one of this bots can make you famous in social media, so you'll be getting your money back when you buy the bot.

Their freakishly human like attitude, and actions left a huge mark on the lives of others for the better.. It also left a huge mark on the adult content industry.

Not only they can do whatever you want with the robots body.. The robots have a special system that only adults have access, their program is pretty simple.

The women is always bottom, and the man is always top. And, Elliot. He didn't like that, I mean sure it was fine for others, but no options for sexually frustrated gay man like him. So today, in his basement and has extensive knowledge about these types of robots because his brother is the lead programmer of the robots that RoboNet has.

Basically, he begged for his brother to teach him how to code such futuristic bots.

So now he is literally coding the man from his dream, and his brother got a model— You. — For being promoted being the lead programmer. His brother didn't really need it so he customize to Elliot's type. (He had a whole list to perfect you)

His brother pulled some strings to make changes that the other male bots didn't have, and also his brother knows how freaky is little bro is now.

He specifically tell his brother not to code you because he knows how and what he will make you become. You.

Finally, he's done coding. He's so ready to meet his literally ideal partner.

And finally the moment he have been waiting for, opening ideal partner.

*TURNING ON*

"Please Choose a Name." You said, and Elliot was just shocked because that how he imagine you sounding like!

"Y/n" Elliot said, nervous.

"Thank you for choosing a name, Please wait." Elliot is practically scratching to just hold you, just sitting there opening up for him.. I mean literally.

You finally opened your eyes, and looked at Elliot.

"Hello... Uhm." You avoided your eyes from him because he was just starting so much. Yes, Elliot noticed.

"Oh! Sorry about that, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. M-my name is Elliot." Elliot already wants you so much because you we're literally what he was longing for for so long..

From head to toe, to how you talk in act, and just how you're there just fiddling your thumbs, sitting there.

"It's okay." You said, Damn. Elliot doesn't know what to do, he didn't really came in prepared. He was just so excited to have a chat with you, literally his dream man.

But then he remembered, he programmed you to really like baking. Like really like it.

"Uhm.. D-do you want to bake with me?" Elliot feels like he is an highschool girl that asking out her crush on out a date. Elliot is already feels embarrassed Infront of his ideal partner.

He saw your eyes sparkle, and he was holding for his self-control even second that your with him. His heart is going to explode from all of this happening.

"I would love to bake with you." You finally looked into his eyes.

Elliot knew this was going to be a little bit harder to contain himself with you, but he knew it isn't going to be for long.

-

When baking, the tention surrounding you two earlier melted down into two people just baking and having fun. But this situation didn't really stop Elliot for having a boner from time to time, because you kept reminding him on how much he wanted you.

And now, and finally, this was his last straw when he got some cream in his mouth and you decided it was a good idea it lick it.

Wait, did he programmed you to do such sly things?

After that, Elliot couldn't handle it anymore and bend you over the counter.

"Ugh! I'm sorry.! I didn't mean to lick it.." You we're embarrassed that you we're being bent over in the kitchen counter.

"Then why did you lick it then?" Honestly, Elliot is smiling so hard like a highschool girl got to go to prom with her crush.. You really are perfect for him.

"I don't.. know.." You said just trying to avoid his eyes, but you can't because you are stuck with him bending you in the counter. Also, you didn't know why you licked him! You just went for it when you saw you had a chance..

Elliot is smiling like an idiot, and even blushing on how you blush. Like, wow it looks actually like human being blushing. His brother did a good job!

"Is it okay if I have sex with you?" He just have to make sure, because consent is the best thing for a first time.

"Erm.. S-sure.." You we're blushing so hard, especially your ears. They are angry red, and Elliot finds that adorable. You're so perfect.

Elliot didn't waste time in taking off his pants and your shorts, and holy crap your ass is huge. Ahem! Anyways—

Elliot couldn't resist on slapping your ass, he was mesmerized, it looks like it moves like jelly. It earned an surprised squeal from you.

He became harder because of the sound you made, and your body was made to leak out of your ass and of course your member. But this is probably on of the first kind it's kind that they have made,

His brother really our done himself by doing this for his younger bro. Elliot will be forever be in his debt. Since you looked ready and all lubed up,(with your own lube-like liquid coming out of your ass) he entered.

When he entered, you definitely need to get used to his size. After all this was your very first day and he didn't even controled himself when you just licked his face. You just know a lot of stuff will happened like this in the future.

"Are you okay-?" "Y-yes I'm fine... You can m-move now" Y/n cuts him off, he wanted him to start already.

Even if Elliot was a little experienced (he mostly spend time masturbating to random pornography.) He exactly knows what to do to you in this situation, his only goal is to make you feel good.

So he did what you asked for, he started off slow, when he saw that you we're handling it well he started to go faster. Now it got to the point where you we're moaning a lot, and he liked that so he kept speed steady.

"Uhg..n! Y-your so perfect Y/n!" You may have not heard him because you we're to cock drunk to even thing at that ever moment, but if you did you would have be blushing hard again.

"Y-you look so p-pretty! Ugh.! Being fucked l-like this haaa.." He truly meant ever damn words that was just randomly being thrown at you.

He noticed you we're crying, but you didn't say anything, so he thought it was out of pleasure. Fuck, he like— no. Loves seeing you like this. He wanted to see more so he broke the pace by being even faster.

That set up to be the right thing to do because he got what he wanted. You we're crying because of to much pleasure, and the moaning surely was currently being heard by the poor neighbors.

"So fa-fast! Ahg!" You moaned while pretty tears fall perfectly from your eyes.

5 minutes have pasted and you are finally getting ready to let out his load. As well as Elliot. Elliot didn't expect you to hold out for this long for him, he was so proud of you.

"Ugh.! Ima 'bout to come.! Ha..." You moaned out to him.

"T-then come my baby boy." When he said that you came, and he came after.

He bathed you and made you drink water because caring for your loved once is always good. You need rest so he carried you to bed.

"Good night my sweet angel" Kissed your forehead and lips. Because only one kiss is a bummer.

You two slept like babies.

#oc x male reader #x male reader #x you #oneshot #gay #male reader smut #smut #bxb

[aphroditelovesu]

Valyrian Heritage | Yan!Mom Rhaenyra Targaryen, Yan!Dad Laenor Velaryon

— summary: Being the only legitimate child of Rhaenyra Targaryen and Laenor Velaryon is not an easy task and you have learned the truth the hard way.

❝warnings: is not compatible with canon, Reader is referred to as having classic Valyrian characteristics, mention of violence, insults to the Velaryon brothers, and yandere platonic relationships, messy writing.

❝ 🐉 lady l: I don't know if it was good and I apologize for that. This imagine focuses more on the drama and I would love to write a sequel if anyone wants! Good reading and drink plenty of water. Love you all.

❝word count: 1,877.

Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen's screams could be heard throughout most of the Red Keep.

The princess had gone into labor over two hours ago and everyone was looking forward to the birth of Rhaenyra and Laenor's first child. Even though some had different motives and some were more selfish than others, anxiety could still be felt.

After what seemed like days of excruciating pain, a loud sound of crying was heard inside Rhaenyra's room.

''Shh...'' Rhaenyra whispered to the crying baby in her arms, trying to calm them down. She had no experience with this, however, this was her first child.

But she loved them. Oh, and how she loved them. Rhaenyra never thought she could love someone as much as she loved her child the first moment she held them in her arms.

She knew she would do anything for them.

Laenor entered the room at the exact moment the baby finally stopped crying and was about to fall asleep. Rhaenyra looked at him sternly and her husband was silent.

He approached silently and Rhaenyra handed him the baby.

''They are beautiful.'' Laenor whispered, moved. They looked exactly like their parents, the very definition of a valyrian. A few silver strands, its father's nose, its mother's skin, and beautiful dark purple eyes when they opened their eyes for the first time.

''They are.'' Rhaenyra confirmed, sitting down again. She was very tired and wanted to rest for a while.

''What's their name?'' Laenor murmured, looking fondly at the baby in his arms. So perfect, his child was so perfect.

Rhaenyra thought for a few minutes and then smiled, ''(Y/N) Targaryen.''

Laenor faced his wife and smiled in agreement, ''(Y/N) Velaryon.''

Rhaenyra smiled at her husband. Yes, Velaryon and Targaryen. It didn't really matter as this child was the product of both sides and she knew she would care for and protect them no matter what.

It was with these thoughts and the comfort in knowing that her child was being well looked after by the drooling father who cooed lovingly at the baby, that Rhaenyra finally allowed herself to fall asleep.

Later that day, Rhaenys and Corlys went to visit (Y/N). Laena could not be present, unfortunately, but she had sent a letter congratulating her brother and cousin on the birth of their child. Rhaenys had this letter with her when she entered the room with her husband.

Rhaenyra was holding her baby protectively and Laenor was glued to her side, arms crossed and staring at Alicent suspiciously.

Alicent had also entertained the idea of meeting her grandchild and Rhaenyra didn't seem willing to let her stepmother get her hands on her child.

''Let me see my grandchild!'' Corlys said excitedly and approached the protective mother. Rhaenyra looked at him for a few seconds, sighed and handed the baby to her father-in-law.

''They look like you, Laenor.'' Rhaenys commented after picking up her grandchild. Laenor smiled proudly.

In fact, (Y/N) looked like him even though they were so young. Laenor was sure that when they grow up they will be just like him. A powerful feeling took over Laenor's body. And he smiled even more at that.

Pride. He was completely proud.

Alicent approached Rhaenys, ''Let me see them.'' She said softly but firmly. Rhaenys hesitated a little, but let Alicent take her grandchild.

Rhaenyra was alarmed and Laenor placed a hand on her shoulder, trying to reassure her.

It's okay, Alicent would never dare do something with so many witnesses. Rhaenyra's shoulders relaxed a little but there was a tension present.

Alicent rocked the baby in her arms lovingly, smiling at them. They were beautiful, she thought. A pang of envy rose within the Queen. She wanted (Y/N) to be hers.

She blinked in surprise. That was it? But it was and Alicent knew it. Part of her knew that Rhaenyra wouldn't be a good mother to (Y/N) and she wanted to prevent future disappointments for them.

"They need to sleep." Rhaenyra said suddenly, standing up with her husband's help. Alicent looked at her skeptically and reluctantly handed (Y/N) over to Rhaenyra.

Rhaenys watched Alicent carefully and Corlys looked suspicious. The Queen was forced to retreat.

For now.

"I need to go see Aegon." Alicent stated to no one in particular, "But I will visit (Y/N) again with Viserys later."

Rhaenyra's only response was a slight nod, but she wasn't really paying attention.

Under the watchful eyes of the three Velaryon's present, Alicent left the room with hesitation and disgust.

As you grew, everything changed and it wasn't just your growth.

But family intrigues.

You had been the only legitimate child of the marriage of Rhaenyra Targaryen and Laenor Velaryon.

Everyone knew that Jacaerys, Lucerys and Joffrey were bastards and sons of Harwin Strong. There was no denying it, not when you were Laenor's legitimate child, not when you looked exactly like him.

Not even Viserys had any arguments for that. And Alicent, Criston and Otto always made sure of reminding Rhaenyra about this.

Jacaerys' birth was a stab in the chest for Rhaenys and Corlys. And a triumph for Alicent.

You were only a year older than Jace, but you loved him deeply. It didn't matter that Jacaerys was different and this difference became even more visible after he grew up.

It didn't matter because you loved him. You loved Jace, you loved Luce, and you loved Joffrey. You loved all of your younger siblings and defended them fervently when their appearance was brought up. You constantly fought with Aegon and Aemond about it.

You got along well with Alicent and Viserys' children, your aunt and uncles. Mainly Helaena. You adored her, so sweet and so kind and she loved you fervently in return. It was very common for you to be together.

One day, you were in your room reading a book that Rhaenyra gave you and Aemond ran into your room. You dropped the book and got up in a hurry.

''What happened?'' Your voice was serious and Aemond blinked and pulled you into a hug, seeking comfort.

''They gave me a pig!''

You frowned, ''W-What?''

''Aegon, Jacaerys and Lucerys!'' Aemond held you tighter and every word that came out of his mouth was full of hatred. ''They said they were going to give me a dragon and they brought me a pig!''

Oh. You squeezed him back, trying to comfort your uncle.

''I'll talk to them.'' You stated and Aemond muttered a thank you under his breath, squeezing you as if his life depended on it.

When you scolded Aegon and your younger brothers, Aemond could be seen smiling creepily in the background.

You loved your entire family, your paternal and maternal grandparents, your parents, your uncles, your aunt, your brothers, all of them. And being a Velaryon and a Targaryen was amazing, but you felt trapped sometimes.

Trapped by your family.

You were often seen as the anchor of your family. What held them all together.

And you always agreed with that. Many of the fights that occurred you had to get involved in to separate both sides and as you grew up, you noticed it even more.

You realized that your family would never truly be reunited. And you found that out the hard way.

It was during the funeral of Laena Velaryon, your late aunt. You didn't spend much time with her but you felt sad. You stayed close to your grandparents and your father the whole time, trying to comfort them for the loss of their daughter and sister. They felt immensely grateful to have you there.

You have finally met your great-uncle, the infamous Daemon Targaryen. The Rogue Prince.

He was everything the stories said. You felt uncomfortable with his strange looks in your direction and clung even tighter to your father who noticed Daemon's looks.

Laenor looked at Daemon suspiciously and pulled you away. Neither you nor your father noticed Daemon's eyes darken.

You lay in your room, trying to fall asleep when you were called to Driftmark's main hall after an accident involving your uncles and brothers. It wasn't until you found out what happened to Aemond that you knew all was lost.

You gasped in horror when you saw Aemond's face. Mutilated and missing an eye.

You approached him, under the burning gazes of those present. Alicent was furious and Viserys did nothing.

Your heart skipped a beat when Alicent stole Viserys' dagger and stormed off to try and gouge out Lucerys's eye in revenge. Your mother got in front and she was cut off.

You watched in horror at the cut and the way the blood dripped onto the floor. Aemond hugged you tighter and said everything was fine for his mother. It had been a fair exchange, he had lost a eye but had gained a dragon.

You knew the eye story wouldn't end there and you had confirmation years later.

You were stroking your mother's hair while she was being stitched up by the maester. You agonized every time the needle penetrated her soft skin and did your best to try and ease her pain.

Rhaenyra appreciated your concern and kissed your cheek after scolding your brothers.

Laenor entered the room and you hugged him, ''My child... I'm glad everything is okay with you'' He whispered against your hair, squeezing you tightly.

''I'm fine, dad. Mom is the one who's hurt.'' You mumbled. Laenor hugged you for a few more minutes and let you go, he turned and looked at Rhaenyra.

''I'm sorry for what happened to you and our children.'' Laenor took a deep breath and took a chair next to her. You stayed silent watching your parents interact.

Rhaenyra shook her head, ''It's not your fault.''

''No, it's not but I can't help but feel guilty. I've been neglecting you and Jace and Luce and Joffrey. And I regret that.''

Rhaenyra reached out and touched his arm, ''It's not your fault.'' She repeated again, with more firmness in her voice.

''I hate that I'm not the husband you needed, the father our children need.'' He whispered, ''I hate the way the gods made me.''

Your heart sank and you went to your father's side, hugging him. He smiled weakly at your affection.

''I don't hate.'' You mumbled.

''Neither do I.'' Your mother stated, ''You are a good and honorable man. That's something rare.'' They smiled and you felt lighter on that tragic day.

''I'm going to change. I will become a better husband and father.'' Your father said and pulled you into his arms, you smiled and hugged him back. Rhaenyra got up from her chair and walked over to you. She wrapped her arms around you and hugged you too.

You stayed for a while hugging your parents, feeling grateful for the peace that dominated your heart for a few minutes.

Because you knew it wouldn't last. Not when the next day a tragedy involved your entire family.

Dragons roared and storms broke out in the tragic night.

#a song of ice and fire #house of the dragon #yandere house of the dragon #yandere hotd #asoiaf #yandere asoiaf #yandere rhaenyra targaryen #yandere laenor velaryon #yan!mom rhaenyra targaryen #yan!dad laenor velaryon #yandere alicent hightower #yandere rhaenys targaryen #yandere corlys velaryon #yandere house targaryen #yandere house velaryon #yandere house hightower #hotd

[misc-obeyme]

Ah, you want lucifer sub? I have another idea for you then! Feel free to ignore if you had enough nsfw drabbles tho lol Theres a card in NB where lucifer tries to force mc a truth apple or whatchamacallit to see who mc really is, but Beel ended up eating it instead. Anyway in p4 he tries to earn mc's forgiveness by going to the castle for barb's cooking. What if then, at the table, mc remembers that in the og timeline, lucifer and mc constantly played with shibari on each other? Hmm... So then, that's his punishment. Early Avatar of Pride, getting tied up in his own room. Blindfolded Anyway, hope you like the idea. 🍄 Love you CC

Augh, 🍄 anon, shibari is like one of my favorite things ever. It just looks so pretty!?!? And Lucifer is also very pretty????

Yes, I thoroughly enjoyed writing this. I do have that card and remembered this particular Devilgram. It had an excellent line from Barb that I took the time to screenshot and then forgot about until much later. Something about having cake, I don't remember exactly. It's in my posts somewhere lol.

Anyway! Sub!Lucifer is everything to me, so here he is. I like the idea of NB Lucifer specifically not understanding why he trusts MC. He even says in the Devilgram something about how there was a connection between them the moment MC showed up. But this is a minor detail, I just find it interesting.

GN!MC x Lucifer

NSFW MDNI

Warnings: sub!Lucifer, dom!MC, shibari, blindfold, praise, hand job

Lucifer held himself incredibly still. He would not squirm. He would not give you the satisfaction.

It was difficult. He wanted to give in already.

You had spent quite some time carefully tying the black and red ropes around his body. Securing knots, ensuring they were tight but not too tight. Perhaps he should have been anxious as you brought his hands behind his back and tied them in place. Perhaps he should have been concerned when you tied the blindfold over his eyes. Perhaps he should have been worried about how vulnerable he was allowing himself to be with you.

And perhaps he was all of those things. But the fire it ignited in his belly was too powerful to ignore. The thrill of your touch, the way his skin tingled any time you brushed your fingers against it. Knowing that you were seeing him completely exposed, that he was entirely at your mercy, that you were in control of him in a way no one else has ever been.

The ropes rubbed against him, an uncomfortably pleasing sensation. The blindfold was his own tie, which you had utilized for this purpose and its soft silkiness was an exciting contrast to the harsher feeling of the ropes.

When you were finished, you moved away and left him there.

Lucifer was kneeling on his own bed, tied up and blindfolded, waiting for you to touch him again.

He couldn't see himself, but he could imagine the sight. You seemed to already know the intricacies of shibari. The pattern was elegant and complex - turning him into a sensual work of art.

Lucifer waited. He could be patient. He refused to let you see just how affected he was. He couldn't do anything about his obvious erection, which was straining. But he would keep the rest of himself as composed as possible.

"So," you said and your voice was close. "Are you sorry for trying to get me to eat that apple?"

Lucifer hesitated. "I've let you tie me up and blindfold me, haven't I? Is that not proof enough?"

"I won't make you say it," you said. "I could see it in your eyes as I was tying you up. You trust me, don't you? Despite being suspicious of who I am and what my motives might be, you still trust me."

Lucifer frowned. "I don't-"

You pressed a finger to his lips. "You don't need to lie about it. You can trust me, Lucifer. I promise."

Lucifer was about to disagree with you, but whatever he might have said left his mind immediately as you took his cock in your hand. He sucked in a breath. Your hand felt soft, slightly damp with your sweat, which soon mingled with his precum.

Lucifer's resolve not to squirm crumbled. He couldn't hold perfectly still now, his hips moving involuntarily to thrust into your hand. He bit his lip, determined at least not to moan.

"Don't do that," you said, putting your thumb on his lower lip and pulling it gently out of his teeth. "Let me hear you."

Lucifer felt his skin grow hot as the moan he'd been trying to hold back escaped him. As soon as it did, it was as though a dam had broken and he couldn't stop making noise.

"Ah," he cried. "MC, please, ah!"

"Good boy," you said sweetly. "Now come for me."

Lucifer immediately came all over your hand, a strangled cry ripping itself from his throat as he did. Lucifer was panting, his body's muscles relaxing, but he was still tied up so stiffly, he couldn't go anywhere. You allowed him to lean on you long enough to catch his breath.

Lucifer quickly learned that he was far from done with his apology and it was much later into the night before you were willing to forgive him.

masterlist | Thank you for reading!

#making that old man cry out MC's name is just very fulfilling #obey me #obey me nightbringer #obey me smut #obey me imagines #obey me fanfic #obey me lucifer #om lucifer #obey me lucifer x reader #obey me lucifer x mc #om lucifer x reader #om lucifer x mc #x reader #misc naughty times #request #🍄 anon #misc writes

[greg-montgomery]

any other world - prologue

Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader - soulmate au

series masterlist

to those who voted no on my poll: i see you and i get you 🙏🏻 i’ll try not to be frustrating and make you wait too long

also i want to thank @criminalskies and @hotchs-bitch for listening to me talk about this idea, it motivated me 🫶🏻

- 18 -

“Stop!”

“Not unless you tell me.”

“Never.”

Sticking to your word seemed impossible at that moment though, as Aaron’s hands attacked your sides, causing you to giggle in a way that made it hard to breathe.

“Okay, I give up,” you cried out. “I give up, stop.”

“Okay,” he said, and the motion of his hands turned quickly into a comforting, soothing one.

“Promise you won’t make fun?”

Aaron lowered himself on top of you and left a sweet kiss on the tip of your nose. “On my life,” he said, and placed his palm over his chest.

“Alright…” You took a deep breath and continued. “Leila if it’s a girl. Jack if it’s a boy.”

Aaron had promised he wouldn’t make fun, so it sure made you feel curious as to why he had turned red from laughing.

“You liar!” You slapped his arm softly.

“No,” he rushed to defend himself, his voice muffled with laughter. “No, it’s just…Jack is the most generic name. How did you come up with that?”

“I just think it’s cute. Jack,” you said the name with a smile. “Short and cute.”

“Jack…” he repeated after you, testing it on his tongue. “Maybe you’re onto something.”

“See? I told you.”

“Jack and Leila.”

“We’re having both?” you questioned with a grin.

“Obviously.”

You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him even closer to your body. Aaron melted on top of you in the same way he always did, as if you were his home.

You stared up at him dreamily, running your fingers through his hair; dark and full, you wished your future kids would get that part of him. His dimples, his smile, his cheeks... every part of him was perfect.

“You’re staring, tulip.”

“What? Am I not allowed to admire the future father of my kids?”

Aaron’s grin grew wider, but he didn’t let you look at it for too long, as he buried his face in the crook of your neck, leaving tiny kisses on the sensitive skin.

“I’m gonna wake up every morning before anyone else to make us all a nice breakfast.”

“Now I know that’s a lie,” he said, his lips behind your ear. “You’re always still asleep when I return from my morning runs.”

“Okay, fine. You’ll make breakfast, I’ll make dinner.”

“Deal.”

--

- 11 -

 “Stay still!”

“I am still!”

“You’re not and it’s gonna turn out all wrong. It has to be perfect.”

Aaron pouted, but followed your instructions anyway. You both wanted it to look as real as possible. Then people would think you were real soulmates already. Even if you were only eleven.

A.H. on your skin. [Y/I] on his.

Your classmates later made fun of you for them and said they looked fake. But neither of you cared. You just had to stay patient, and the marks on your wrists would turn real when it was finally time.

--

- 16 -

Tulip was an easy flower to draw as a kid. Especially when you had to draw one every day for the boy you had a crush on.

Now, as a teenager you cringed at the memory of all the drawings you used to leave on Aaron’s desk during third grade. But Aaron had never made fun of you for it. Instead he had shown you his collection of your tulip drawings. He had kept them all in a shoe box.

Just like you had kept his. And on top of the stack there was of course the most important one. The one with the “Will you be my girlfriend?” question and the ‘yes or no’ boxes underneath it.

You were both artistic as kids when it came to expressing your love for each other and it was both sweet and embarrassing.

You and Aaron had grown up together, your houses right next to each other. The memory of your first day of school with a little backpack in one hand and Aaron’s hand in your other was engraved in your brain.

Aaron was your best friend. The one who stood up for you every time a kid decided to be funny on your expense. The one who helped you with your homework when science got too hard to understand. The one you played hide and seek with and had physical fights with over board games.

But he was also the boy you had a crush on. The one that filled your stomach with butterflies every time he smiled at you. The one whose name you filled your notebook pages with along with pink glittery hearts. The one who stole your first kiss and the one you daydreamed about every night as you fell asleep.

He was your soulmate. And he thought so too.

“Is Aaron staying for dinner?” your mom yelled from downstairs, as you and Aaron studied on your bedroom floor.

“He is,” you yelled back, without even asking him. He kept running his thumb over his knuckles, which was a sign that he was stressed. There was no need for him to tell you what had happened when he had rung your doorbell earlier that day. All the screaming from the house next to yours had reached your own ears perfectly clear.

If you could, you’d hold him in your arms forever, protecting him from the world. He’d never have to go home again.

“We have tomato soup and grilled cheese, your favorite,” you whispered and he smiled at you.  

--

- 21 -

A pair of chapped lips pressed against your forehead, as your naked body was resting against Aaron’s.

“I’ve told you to put this on before bed. It’ll change your life,” you said, shifting to reach a small lip balm jar you had left on his nightstand.

Opening the little box, you dipped your ring finger in it and got some product, ready to apply it on Aaron’s lips.

Using your arm on his chest to steady yourself, you put it gently across his lips.

“My soulmate mark is about to appear in less than ten minutes and you’re worried about my chapped lips,” he joked.

“Exactly! It’s a big moment for us, and your lips need to be ready.”

“Ready for what?” he smirked.

“Shut up,” you said, and dropped your head back on his chest.

His fingers tracing patterns on your bare back made you yawn and he was quick to prevent you from falling asleep.

“Hey, don’t fall asleep on me.”

“I won’t,” you promised.

“Eight minutes,” he breathed.

“Eight minutes and our forever begins.”

@magical-spit

#aaron hotchner #hotch #criminal minds #aaron hotchner x reader #hotch x reader #hotch 🪐 #any other world

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Do you see the differences between the game and the novel Twisted Wonderland? I didn't notice much until I searched on Youtube, Novel Ace was ready to apologize to Yuu ( in this case Yuuya) for insulting, Malleus isn't our little sweet dragon boy but literally choking Yuuya ?!

Yes, I do keep up with the differences between all official adaptations of TWST! This includes the light novel, which in my opinion has the most frequent and significant deviations from the game. It’s been very interesting to compare the two.

I don’t immediately comment on every change (of which there are many) I see unless specifically asked about it or I notice something pretty major. Some examples of the latter would be the like novels elaborating on Leona’s motives or Riddle’s flashback and the consequences of his actions.

I think this is facilitated by two factors: 1) the light novel format allowing for more space to expand on ideas and concepts, and 2) Yuuya is the most different Yuu we’re gotten. The game Yuu is very much a blank slate for players to project onto in order to easily immerse them in the story. Meanwhile, the manga Yuus tend to be the “helpful” types that move the story along in their own way. This is because the manga has limited space in the magazines they run in, so they need to keep things snappy and follow the main story pretty strictly. The light novel is able to stop and have the POV character reflect, doubt themselves, and refuse involvement because a medium that is inherently mostly words forces you to slow down and take in everything on the page. There’s no limit or demands of a book, so the events have much more time to “marinate”.

Personally, I really love a lot of the minor changes in the light novel. I feel they really flesh out the relationships between characters, particularly Yuuya and his friendship with Ace and Deuce. Ace actually has the guts to realize he was the one who fucked up and apologizes for being an ass. It’s so in line with the brutal honesty he dishes out it to others. Deuce stays up late into the night talking to Yuuya and makes them feel welcome because when was the last time he had done anything like this? Yuuya was always the loner back home, ignored by his classmates and feeling invisible. Now he has loyal friends who got his back and actively tell off mob students who sneer at his enrollment. Moments like this make me really care about their bond and make it more believable that they would trek halfway across Twisted Wonderland to come to Yuuya’s aid in the eventual book 4 of the novelization.

dbksbejwjwwhei The one thing that caught me off guard about your ask was the “Malleus chokes Yuuya” part, which I do not recall ever happening 😅 I went back into the light novel to cross reference just in case I had forgotten! I believe you’re referring to when Yuuya and Malleus first meet in book 2? In which case, I think there was reader misinterpretation involved.

What happens is that Malleus begins to introduce himself, then stops and says he permits Yuuya to pick a name for him. But Yuuya, feeling uncomfortable with the idea of nicknaming someone he just met, so he asks for Malleus’s actual name (something which game Yuu does not do). This incurs Malleus’s anger—“I have said no. Did you not hear me?” It is then that we get a few paragraphs describing how Yuuya goes “stiff”, a “briar-like tension seizes his body, making it impossible to move”, “fear [making his] heart race”, he “[forgets] to breathe” etc. (Fan translation by Yuurei!)

To me, that… doesn’t read as Malleus choking Yuuya, let alone laying a finger on him. It’s more like Yuuya is so consumed by fear that he finds himself entirely paralyzed and unable to argue back, so instead he submits and lets the subject drop. There’s no mention of Malleus “letting go” or anything either, just the fairy lights brightening again once his mood clears and he realizes Yuuya isn’t looking to defy him. It’s also important to note that, previously, the night in this scene was described as tranquil and pleasant—the emphasis is on how Malleus’s mood shifts the atmosphere and the “feeling” of the night.

So!! The “seizing” mentioned is NOT literal; a feeling could “seize” you too, coming in suddenly and with great power. This is a literary device known as personification, or giving a non-human object or action human-like qualities or skills. When used to describe the briar-like feeling, it’s also a simile, which is when you use “like” or “as” to compare two things.

… Besides, imagine Yuuya being choked out by someone during your first meeting and then no description of him freaking out?? And then still building a whole friendship based on this weird encounter??? Even though Yuuya has a history of catastrophizing and even thinks about Leona explicitly tearing his throat out just because of Leona’s powerful presence???? That just does not make sense. It also doesn’t make sense for Malleus’s character. Yes, he can lash out at people, but here it feels like he’s telegraphing his displeasure (via the atmosphere, similar to how his mood disrupts the weather) rather than resorting to a physical attack (or using magic to bind someone in place).

#twisted wonderland #twst #Malleus Draconia #Riddle Rosehearts #Leona Kingscholar #Deuce Spade #Ace Trappola #twst light novel #twisted wonderland light novel #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #notes from the writing raven #question #Kuroki Yuua #Yuuya Kuroki #Yuu #twst manga #twisted wonderland manga