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star-eyed-angels · 23 days

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Stray Kids Reaction | NSFW | Being Stray kids' Stress Toy (HYUNG LINE)

The times you become Skz'z personal stress toy

Word Count: 3.3k

A/N: ya girl is back after what feels like 17 years. So sorry for the delay, these ended up being WAY longer than I intended. As a peace offering, I'm releasing hyung line first so I don't keep y'all waiting even longer.

THIS IS NOT EDITED SO PLEASE BE KIND ITS 4AM RN🥹

Warnings: free use (literally all of them), sub/dom dynamics, nicknames, teasing, creampie, orgasm denial, overstimulation, biting, mirror sex, filming, spit kink, blow jobs, boob job, handjobs (It's 4am I'm so tired and definitely missing something, please let me know if something needs to be added)

Read at your own discretion

CHAN

Looking back on it now, you find it funny how this whole arrangement started. You’d been one of the last staff members in the building, having lost a bet to work the night shift. You had just finished prepping for the next shoot when you’d walked by the studios. Seeing Chan’s light on was nothing new, he practically lived in the studio at this point. What was new was the sound of a loud thud shaking the door frame. You’d cautiously opened the door, to find Chan pacing the room.

“Chan? What’s wrong?” you rush into the room, assuming the worst.

“These stupid fucking deadlines. We’re not even finished with this track and they want three by next week on top of schedules, like are you fucking kidding me?!,” he growls out hand slamming against the wall again. You jump as the sound rattles around the room. You try to grab his shoulder gently to calm him. When you grab him he spins around pressing you into his desk. You gasp from the sudden movement, His eyes are dark as he stares down at you, face completely red, though you’re not sure if it’s from the anger he feels or his yelling. When he notices your wide eyed stare he comes back to his senses, taking a deep breath.

“Sorry, sorry, it’s not you y/n. These schedules are just a lot right now,” he says, squeezing at your sides softly. You can’t help the way you shiver from his behavior, a warm feeling fluttering inside you.

“It’s okay Channie,” you say softly, mentally kicking yourself from the way your voice sounds so breathless. He eyes you closely, a small smirk forming on his lips as he steps closer. The smell of his cologne is intoxicating, with the way it wraps around you. Of course Chan takes notice immediately, leaning closer to whisper in your ear.

“I think I’m just in need of a little relaxer… think you can help me with that pretty?” he says squeezing your side a little firmer. You can only nod, hands shaking as they pull him closer to you.

He has you bent over the desk, bottoms ripped enough for him to slide his cock into you with ease. Your hands are pinned behind you, easily held in one of Chan’s hands. The other grips your waist, your plush side spilling through his fingers.

“Fuck look how well you’re taking me, pretty,” he says, now the breathless one. Each of his thrusts has the desk knocking against the wall. The edge of the desk digs into you, and you’re sure it’ll leave bruises for you to admire later. Chan fucks into you with a harsh pace, each press of his hips makes you crave him more and more. You wish you could articulate it to him in some way, but you suppose your broken moans will have to do for now.

“You’re so good letting me use you like this,” he says, leaning down to trail his lips across your cheek. You whine at the way he somehow manages to press deeper inside you.

“Gonna be good and take my cum too, right? Gonna let me fill up this pretty hole?” he teases, feeling the way you flutter around him at his words.

“Fu- fuck! Yes Channie, I’ll be good, promise!” you cry out, squirming in his hold. He grips the back of your neck, pressing you harder into his desk as his hips pick up speed.

“Beg for it pretty,” he commands, not once faltering in his face.

“Please use me! Please fill me up Channie, need it!” You beg, no longer caring about anything except having him finish inside you. Chan seems to be thinking the same thing, a loud groan filling the room as you beg. Chan lasts for a few more thrusts before his hips finally still. A loud growl escapes him as he finally cums inside you. The feeling forcing you into your own orgasm.

‘I think I’ll just have to call you every time I need to de-stress, okay pretty?” he pants out, hips still pressing into you. You can only offer a weak hum in return, but you’re more than happy to be a stress toy for him if it comes with pleasure like this.

MINHO

Eventually the arrangement turns into you being their ‘assistant’. It was a no brainer for them to have you join them when they travel for schedules, especially during tour season. Minho in particular gets pent up during their performances. If he makes a mistake, you’re always ready.

It doesn’t happen very often with the way Minho practically drills the choreography into his mind. But sometimes Minho finds himself a beat off, barely able to catch himself as he mixes up the choreo. Tonight it happens on their second song of the show, Minho’s movements beats ahead of the others. To everyone else he just looks like he’s hiding his grin, doing his best not to laugh on stage. But not to you. You wince as you watch his mistake in 4K on one of the dressing room screens. You can see the way his eyes harden ever so slightly, enough to know that he’s pissed.

After their sixth song is when they get backstage, rushing to the dressing room to get into their next outfits.

Minho is the last to walk in, his eyes scanning the room before landing on you. His gaze darkens as he marches over to you. You let out a squeak as he shoves you over the arm of the chair, pulling your leggings just enough to push your panties aside. As per usual no one bats an eye as he yanks his pants down, entering you with no warning.

“Fucking hell, why are you so tight?” he groans, hips picking up immediately as he pounds into you. HIs thrusts leave you breathless, unable to give him anything past gasps of his name.

“What, were you just waiting for one of us to come back here and fuck your cute pussy, is that it?” he teases, as he starts shucking his top off. The moans you let out come out choked as you struggle to catch your breath from how hard you're being pushed into the couch. With as much strength as you can muster, you turn to look behind you. You feel a hot wave of shame roll over you when you see Minho continue to dress himself as if he isn’t making you fall apart around him.

He catches you staring out of the corner of his eye, grinning at the way you moan loader at the lack of attention. Just when you feel the pleasure build inside you, Minho’s pulling out and tucking himself back into his pants.

“Be a good kitten and stay here, If you’re good maybe I’ll let you come at the end, okay?” he says, patting your side. You offer him a small whimper in return, struggling to regain your composure.

The rest of the concert passes in the same manner. During each outfit change Minho comes straight to you, slipping inside you with ease. Each time you plead with him to let you cum, practically sobbing into the couch with how needy you are. His only response is to pull your pants back up, and pat your hip. A smirk toying at his lips when he reminds you to be good for him.

You’re shaking by the time the encore rolls around. Every second that passes feels like an eternity, when the lights on stage finally go out, you feel like you could cry from joy.

You’re not embarrassed at the way you turn over, presenting yourself to Minho when he and the other members walk through the door. It’s why he calls you kitten, you’re always acting like you’re in heat when he’s using you.

“What a needy thing I have here, think you’re ready for your reward now kitten?”

“Yes Minho! Please!!” You cry out, wiggling your hips to entice him. He’s behind you before you finish, hands ghosting over your hips slowly.

“Min…” you sob out, turning to look at him pleading

He huffs out a laugh, but still begins to unbutton his jeans. A groan escapes him when he fills you, watching your eyes flutter closed. He grips your hip in one hand, starting a brutal pace.

“Come on kitty, give me what I want. Cum or you get nothing,” he orders, hand finding its way to your clit. You sob at the tingling pleasure that takes over you, mouth opening in a silent scream when you cum.

“Good kitty,” he praises, fingers still toying with your clit. You whine, looking over your shoulder with pleading eyes. He only chuckles, of course you’d still be begging for more.

“What? Kitty still wants a treat?,” he teases, watching the way your eyes glimmer with need. You watch the way he bites his lip, hips ever so slightly rutting into you harder. You let your hand trail down to your core, pinching and pulling at your clit. You whine out Minho’s name as you clench around him, willing him to fill you. His hips stutter as your walls force him deeper inside you. A low moan leaving him as he cums without warning. He pulls out just in time to watch himself spill over your backside. You moan as another orgasm is forced out of you, making you tremble from the pleasure.

“Feel better kitten?” He asks, petting your hair. You nod muttering a small thank you as you keen into his soft touches.

CHANGBIN

When it comes to Changbin, he likes when you suck him off in the studio. With constant planning of comebacks, 3racha are always writing and pitching songs for upcoming albums. Sometimes the company gives them pushback when it comes to creative control. Like today as you stand in front of a very pissed off Changbin. Anger practically rolls off him in waves after the recent meeting with the company. This is the fifth time this month that his songs have been rejected for an album. You’d been in that meeting with the members and watched as Changbin’s face dropped, his face twisted into a deadly glare. Chan and Jisung had both given you a knowing look which had you counting the seconds until the members were dismissed. You’d followed him back to the studio after the meeting, softly trying to calm him down. He still glares, as he grumbles about how the company is annoying. You watch as he drops onto the couch, slumping back grumpily. He continues to rant, only stopping when he notices you sink to your knees in front of him.

He watches with narrowed eyes as you run your hands up the sides of his thighs. His breath hitches quietly as you part his legs.

“Come on Binnie, let me make you feel better?” you ask looking up at him through your lashes.

He bites his lip, giving you a shy nod. That’s all you need before you coax him to lift his hips, tugging his jeans down to pool at his ankles.

A shaky moan tumbles out of his lips when you mouth at his cock through his boxers. Your hands are still gliding over his thighs, leaving small pink lines where you rake your nails down his skin. While Changbin would never admit it, he loves when you have him like this. The others are more into control, but he wants you to turn him into a pliant mess.

He’s squirming as your lips travel lower, your teeth nipping at his honey skin teasingly. You leave a trail of hickies on his inner thighs, just to listen to the way he gets breathless from the feeling.

“Fuck, please don’t tease. Need to feel your lips around me pretty,” he begs, doing his best to keep still.

His hands dig into the leather of the couch as you finally take him between your lips. Moaning at the feeling of him resting heavily against your tongue. The head you give him is messy. Spit covering your lips as you bob your head, staring up at Binnie as you take him deeper with each breath. He’s a moaning mess, hands gently cradling the back of your head.

“Thank you pretty, it feels so good to have your mouth around me, thank you.” he praises desperately. The shaky tilt to his praises is almost hypnotic, making you want to stay on your knees for him for as long as he begs you to. You’d do anything he’d ask if it lets you hear him whine and beg for you as if he isn’t fully capable of pinning you down to have his way with you.

When you finally find it in yourself to pry your lips off of him, Changbin feels like he could cum just from the way your face stares back up at him. Swollen lips, glossy from his precum, and a string of spit still connecting you to his cock.

Changbin who does almost cum when you suddenly press his leaking cock between your tits. His brain goes haywire when you start to glide them over him. When his hips begin to messily thrust up, you only encourage him through soft moans.

“Doing so good for me, just want you to make yourself feel good, yeah” you ask, glancing up at him through your lashes.

“Yeah- yeah, feels good pretty. Always feels good with you…” he says breathless from the pleasure coursing through him.

You’re tongue poking out to catch a taste of him, missing the feeling of him in your mouth. He keens at the lewd image before him, you on your knees as you give him the best head he’ll ever get. Binnie who all but cries when you ask him to cum for you, voice sweet as venom.

“Come on, give it to me, Binnie. Want you to cum for me,” you ask, staring up at him with a pointed look. He comes with a whiny moan, hips stiling as he spills over your chest. He pants as he comes down from his high, now watching you with half-lidded eyes as you lick the cum off yourself. Giving him a satisfied hum, when you notice him watching you. The anger he once felt is now replaced with the need to give you even a fraction of pleasure you just gave him.

HYUNJIN

Hyunjin uses you mostly in the practice rooms. The way Chan lives in the studio, Hyunjin lives here. The first time you’re here with him, it's rushed and quiet. Constantly looking over your shoulders, too scared to lock the practice room to avoid any suspicion. This only backfires in the long ring making you crave more from Hyunjin. He feels it too. The way the adrenaline rushed through him as he fucked you with his hand over your mouth. The act does very little to muffle your cries of pleasure. By the time you were finished he had the same dazed look in his eyes. From then on it almost became a game, seeing how far he could push his limits with you. Sex with Hyunjin gets dirtier after each session, both of you egging each other on to do more and more. Less and less do you worry about someone coming in and catching you.Though neither one of you would be opposed to getting caught is what you discover soon enough.

The stress of another award show looming over the group has everyone on edge. It came to a head tonight, after hours of practice Hyune still can’t get a move quite right. After what was probably the thousandth time he’s texting you, telling you to meet him.

He has you pressed against the mirror, his touch harsh and bruising as fills you.He loves to watch where you’re joined, eyes flicking between where he’s grinding his cock into you and the way your eyes roll into the back of your head at the pleasure. Your hands barely keep you in place against the fogging mirror. With each hard thrust your hands slide further down the mirror, barely being held up by Hyunjin’s bruising grip.

The room is filled with a playlist, painstakingly curated by none other than Hyunjin. He’d briefly explained it to you in a conversation overshadowed by the countless orgasms he’d given you that night. He punctuated each beat with a timed thrust, all the while whispering the dirty lyrics into your ear just to watch your breath hitch.

The only other sound in the room is the breathless moans and lewd smacks of where his hips meet yours. But on rare meetups Hyunjin likes to pull out his phone and film you. His mouth running unfiltered as he records the both of you.

In his defense he can’t help the need to film your pussy in the mirror. Low curses falling from his lips as he watches the slick drip down your thighs. He pans to your face as you cum for the third time, zooming into the tears that leak from your eyes as you moan. The camera pans back over to his face as he gives you another hard thrust, the camera catching his own eyes fluttering at the way you tremble around him.

“Look at you, watching yourself getting fucked. Bet it feels good, doesn’t it?” He taunts, knowing how worked up it makes you.

“Yes Jinnie! It’s so good,” you gasp out, hands still scrambling at the mirror.

“I know, look at the way you’re gushing. We’re gonna have to mop the floors again…” he tsks, mockingly.

“Sorry Hyun- Hyunnie!!” you cry out, though at this point you're not entirely sure what you’re apologizing for. Hyunjin eyes your trembling form with a smirk, camera already panning back to your face for his next words.

“Maybe I can have you clean it yourself? Won’t you be a good doll and lick up your mess, hmm?” he asks, becoming breathless himself at the image.

You’re coming before he finishes, walls holding him in with a tight grip. Your tears are now running down the mirror as you slump against it. Any strength you had left is now gone as you shake through your release. The orgasm that rips through you leaves you to let out a silent scream. Hyunjin lets you ride it out, not entirely bothered by not getting his own release. Instead he focuses on filming your form slump further against the mirror. He knows you’ll get on your knees and help him out when you can think properly again. Part of him hopes you’ll consider his suggestion, letting him film it to add to his favorite collection.

#stray kids reactions #stray kids smut #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #skz smut #skz scenarios #skz imagines #skz reactions #writing #✍🏼

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tenpintsof-sundrop · 4 months

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I really really hate to be that person - especially because I know a lot of people are under the impression that fanfic authors are greedy and we should be grateful for any comments we get, even if those comments are full of unauthorized concrit, even if they're kind of rude, even if they're weirdly self-shaming (sometimes insinuating that people should feel bad over reading the dark or smutty content in the fics or that we should feel bad for writing it in the first place even though you're also reading it??).

But like, lately, I have been getting so many comments along the lines of "this fic should be longer!!" "I wish this was a series!!" "please turn this into a series!" "I would read endless sequels of this!!!" - today someone literally commented on one of my fics saying that it was a war crime that the fic was 30k instead of being 'a whole series'. And I totally understand the mindset that if something is good, you want more of it. If you enjoy something, you want more of it. But these comments are definitely not as flattering as people think they are.

When reading those comments - it doesn't always come off as a compliment. Most of my fics range from 5k to 30k on average, and they are usually oneshots or oneshots that I have split into multiple parts in order to be more readable - most of my longer, ongoing series are abandoned because I didn't have the steam to maintain them. (Most people don't know at all how hard it is to write a good, coherent, well-plotted 100k fic and actually keep up with it.) After I post the fic I have written later this week, I will have written over 400k this year alone, with my entire AO3 having over one million words split between 79 different fics.

So often, having people look at my fics and having their only comment be to 'write more' - feels like an insult. Because I do write more. I have written more. I write consistently. (It just sucks that people have almost nothing to say about what I have already written.)

Having people look at my fics - usually very long fics - and go "hey, this would be better if it was longer!!" or "hey, that was good, but the only productive thing I have to say about it is: make it longer" - it always feels very discouraging.

It doesn't make me want to rush to write more of that fic. In fact, most of the time, I actively avoid working on sequels to fics where the only comments are 'more please' because I know the only thing people will say about the sequel is 'when are you gonna make more?' - and oftentimes, I don't intend to make more.

I have said this in another post, but the ending to my fics are always intentional. I don't write fics with the mindset of turning them into a 100 part series. I write fics with the mindset of making them like a film or a short TV series - telling a capsule of a story with a very intentional beginning, middle, and end. And if I write a sequel, it's because I feel there is more to be told - but I will also cap off that sequel with a very intentional ending.

(Also, don't get me started on the complex of - if fics don't have the classic 'happy ending' people feel like every single thread needs to be resolved until it gets to a more classic happy ending, when I love writing intentional melancholic and thoughtful endings.)

Also - in general, I feel like people don't understand how much work goes into a fic. It might take you about 2 hours to read a fic that's 30k (and a lot of people who are avid readers probably read faster than that, reading it in an hour or less) - but concepting that fic, writing that fic, and meticulously editing that fic so that it can be readable and pleasant for people takes upwards of 20 hours of work. I would say realistically, upwards of 30 hours. And those are just working hours - hours sitting at the computer actively working. That doesn't include the time spent in between workshopping the ideas in my head while I am doing other mundane tasks in life.

It's very, very easy to consume a 30k oneshot in one sitting and then hold out your plate and go "more please!!" without putting any thought into how much work went into the original fic.

All of this just to say - please think about these things next time you are commenting on a fic (or even closing a fic without commenting at all), or doing something stupid like generating a fic with AI - which steals from everyday hard working fanfic writers. Fanfiction is hard work - it's a labour of love, and it shouldn't be about blind consumerism where you finish one and then rapidly start looking for the next one. You should appreciate each one like a good, hand pulled taffy instead of gobbling them all down like cheap candy mass made by factory machines.

Yeah - I think that's it.

-your local over worked (but still passionate) fanfic writer

#uuugh #either nobody will see this or everyone will and they will complain about it #sundrop speaks #dick grayson x reader #jason todd x reader #ellie williams x reader #spencer reid x reader #abby anderson x reader #mike schmidt x reader #fanfiction #fandom #vanessa shelly x reader #gar logan x reader

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dragengyrr · 4 days

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Dealbreaker

I found a fic "The Last Bus Stop in Hell, Now Boarding" by @prince-liest and… well, some scenes just stuck around in my head (read: tormented my artistic brain) long enough to get me down to sketching them out. Then a few hours, a few brushes and a few different colouring experiments later, it was no longer barely a sketch, at the expense of actual lunch... Oh well.

For those who haven’t read it (spoiler free), Angel and Alastor got their bodies swapped involuntarily, and the horrendous expression on Angel’s face belongs respectfully to Alastor.

Now, bear with me, because I’ve been overthinking this scene the whole time I was drawing it – Angel made a promise to Alastor, but one that is much more of a gesture of reassurance and what-happened-will-always-remain-in-this-room kind than anything resembling actual deal. And then, mere moments later, Angel realises that helping Al AND keeping the promise is impossible, so he dismisses the fact that he even said anything, and just jumps right onto the helping part, because he knows that that’s best thing to do for a friend. But Alastor doesn’t share that view – maybe it’s a mix of trauma, shame and the loss of control over almost anything, but he doesn’t think clearly at this point – normally, he’d sooner or later agree with Angel. But not there, not then – he’d rather expect the impossible to happen, and rage when it doesn’t.

And there’s the interesting choice of words – he could’ve called Angel anything at this point, we know how rich Alastor’s vocabulary is – but the word he chose was dealbreaker. Maybe, just maybe, from a perspective of hellish overlord, a sinner that twists and turns in an attempt to get rid of their contract is nothing less than pathetic, but what if the deal was only verbal, no signing, no contract, just "trust"… There are probably no other beings in Hell that, ironically, have less trust in somebody’s WORDS than the overlords, knowing what extremes the sinners are willing to go to just to squeeze their way out of a sticky situation. Also, one can only become a dealbreaker exactly in that scenario, when nothing was set in stone.

For Alastor, dealbreaker is a knife in the back. The worst kind of liar. The very being that reminds him so painfully that trust doesn’t exist without force applied to it by a binding contract, which, if you think about it, is a paradox. Dealbreakers are the reason he distances himself from everyone.

And here’s the sugar on the cream (pun intended): Angel is only trying to HELP. What a beautiful tragedy.

To end this little overthinking session: it’s been a long while since I’ve read anything that would make me genuinely terrified, and it’s even more amazing that it began as something quite hilarious. Do mind though that the topic is HEAVY, to say the least.

I can’t say I’ve read a lot of Hazbin fics, but so far Princeliest writes Alastor probably the closest to his original character, which I love. Please, keep up the good work!

#hazbin hotel #alastor #hazbin alastor #radio demon #hazbin angel dust #hazbin angel #fanfic #princeliest #the writing is too good #i forgot: describing alastor’s bodily reactions from angel’s perspective is amazing #the deer ears living their own life #cw blood #cw trauma

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xiaoscarasimp · 4 months

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Horny Drabble 2-Ribbons and Smut

Merry Christmas everyone ^^ I wanted to do a Christmas themed smut piece and this ended up being way longer than intended (but still short)

Cw: afab reader, biting, pet names, choking, degradation, etc etc MDNI pls

“Ah, shit, it's supposed to wrap around this way? No wait, this way?”

You were having problems trying to figure out how to wrap the purple ribbon around yourself; you were starting to look like a hot mess, almost falling over. There was supposed to be a bow on your front, across your chest and it was supposed to be wrapped around your torso, plunging down towards your crotch in a V shape, showing off your soon to be leaking pussy. The thought of seeing your boyfriend's reaction to your “present” to him was already making you excited.

You tried a few more times to wrap the ribbon around yourself, eventually settling for a bow on top of your head, a lacy purple bra and bow on your chest, and matching panties and stockings. There was supposed to be the ribbon around the stockings as well, but you got frustrated on trying to put it on. Waiting for Scaramouche to get home, you wrap up in a warm blanket because your torso was getting cold, despite the fireplace going in the background. The heat starts to make you sleepy and you drift off with thoughts of the long, long night with Scara.

An hour or two later, Scaramouche comes through the door, clearly exhausted from work. You wake up, still a bit groggy and greet him in the kitchen, blanket off, revealing your special Christmas outfit. At first his eyes went wide, then they settled on a lustful gaze.

“My, my,” He coos, pupils blown wide with lust. “What do we have here? My very own personal Christmas slut? Aww, y/n you shouldn't have.” Scaramouche comes over to you and tilts your head up with a finger running under your chin, staring deep into his deep indigo eyes. The storm of lust was just beginning.

“Merry Christmas!” You say cheerfully.

Scara picks you up and carries you to the bedroom princess style. He whispers into your neck how he wants to ravage his present, starting with your breasts. Your boyfriend nibbles at your neck while he is performing his ministrations, lapping at the skin to surely leave a mark. You're already a moaning mess and he hasn't even taken his clothes off; your neck has always been your weak spot.

He carefully, but roughly, puts you on the bed, climbing on top of you, a knee between your already drenched pussy. You moan once the knee hits it and attempt to grind on it, leaving a stain on his jeans. Removing the knee, Scaramouche leans down to kiss you enticingly,passionately, roughly. His lips were the electric jolt your body needed, one of the things your body craved. Thrusting his tongue in your mouth, you two perform a choreographed dance, him taking the lead, nibbling at your lips as you danced.

“Gods, you look so cute underneath me like this,” He temporarily paused his assault on your lips, cupping your face with a smile. Scara then went straight for your neck again, licking a stripe up one side, then kissing and biting down the other.

“S-scara,”you moan, overstimulated already.

“Shh, darling” He coos with a smirk on his face. “Let me have my fun.”

Scaramouche then makes his way down to your breasts, groping one while his tongue swirled around the nipple of the other. The way he was pulling and tugging on the sensitive bud, you swore that he was going to tear it off. Needless to say, you found a lot of pleasure in the pain.

“Please,” you beg. “Please just let me cum.” You were about to cum just from him sucking on your breasts.

“Ah-ah-ah” He tuts. “I need to savor my present and Christmas dinner.”

He dives down towards your pussy, licking it and teasing the clit. Scara thrusted his tongue in your needy, leaking hole, lapping up the juices that spilled forth from it. It’s his ambrosia; the sweetest nectar he could have ever tasted in his entire life. After savoring the taste for a little while he sits up, eyes half lidded, drunk on your pussy and finally lines himself up with your hole. He decides to take it agonizingly slow, plunging in centimeter by centimeter, allowing you to crave it all the more.

“Scara please, hurry up,” you whine.

Big mistake.

“Know your place,” He growls.

Scaramouche's hand finds purchase on your neck, squeezing gently at first. Noticing your reaction of pleasure, he squeezed a bit harder, your walls squeezing him in turn. He knew you liked to play rough sometimes, and tonight was about pleasuring not only himself but you are well.

He starts to thrust slowly at first, each stroke causing tantalizingly slow. It wasn't long before he was thrusting faster and at irregular pace that your hole started sucking him in even more, craving the member in its wake. The sounds of sex reverberate in the room, the plap plap of skin slapping together was making the experience all the better

“Scara,” you moan. “Faster, please!!”

“Such a needy slut for me,” Scaramouche breathes in your ear. “Do it. Cum on my cock like the whore you are.”

Few seconds later, you allow the coil in your stomach to come unwound, cumming on his member. Not long after he filled you up, leaving his dick in your hole to ensure not a drop was wasted.

“Merry Christmas, darling.”

#genshin #genshin smut #fanfic #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche smut #christmas smut

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upslapmeal · 5 months

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Notes from the Taskmaster 16x10 recording

The last two episode recordings I went to, I meant to make comprehensive notes when I got home afterwards that I would be able to look back at and post when the episode aired. I did not, in fact, end up doing that. So this time I was determined to have lots of notes, and made them on the go in the breaks in recording. However. They were made in a rush and I never went back through them to pad them out (you'd really think I would have learned by now). So instead of just having to rely on my memory, I ended up with an almost coded list of words and phrases that it's taken me pretty much 2 weeks to sit down and decipher lol. So with that said:

the pre-episode Greg-Alex entertainment was Greg getting Alex to sing a song about a recent news story to the tune of a song suggested by the audience - in this case it was Trump's lawsuit (the one in May 2023 since there are...a few) to the tune of Wuthering Heights

Alex really went for the whole live thing, and was constantly referring to it throughout the episode

when the contestants came onstage, I obviously first saw Sam in his bright colours and blond hair

we were right on the back balcony and my first impression from that distance was that he kinda looked like Jamie Laing lol

Greg made a passing comment about how he's been dressing in grey but I was completely taken by surprise when the vt rolled and he looked completely different!

I had assumed he'd actually buzzed his hair and didn't realise it was a wig until the ep aired

Sue made comments throughout the episode about how Sam looked like Dahmer

Lucy's prize task story, unsurprisingly, went on for ages and included a whole story about the holiday they went on that I tragically cannot remember

I was so glad they didn't cut 'untaffled' because I looked through my notes before again before watching the episode and couldn't for the life of me remember what she'd said

Greg's said that his immediate response to naked Alex in the prize task was that he was 'smooth like an eel'

After Julian's prize task there was a discussion about how people wanted to be buried, and at one point (I wish I could remember the conversation leading up to this) either Greg or Alex said they would be buried 'together forever in the Victoria monument'

There was a whole long debate about whether Sam intended to use nature as part of his doughnut task, and whether the bird toppling Ms Doughnut to her death should be counted

Greg told Sam to 'convince me to give you 3 points'

Sam went on talking about how amazing nature is and how we're all connected and at one point said 'consider the statistics.....3000' (I'm 99% sure this is what he said and I didn't just forget the rest of the quote)

Julian's exercise name was absolutely not a one-off, to the point they started running a 'cunt count' for the episode

Sue talked about how she had recently had an ADHD diagnosis, and that she kept viewing tasks holistically rather than paying attention to the details. This was specifically in relation to the exercise where she just did the same thing 4 times

I'm not sure if we saw the full extended version of Hotel Taskmaster, but we definitely saw a cut that included more than the aired version (though tbh I think they do that for most tasks and I just noticed this one bc we got the extended version)

We got an 'I put it to you' from Greg that Alex-as-Qrs looked genuinely cool

Lucy described Alex as having 'tight metallic buns' which Greg later referred to as his 'robot arse'

I cannot stress how much of a breakdown Susan had in the studio about the forks and marbles - you get a glimpse in the episode but that was nothing!

Susan also took AGES to do her throw in the live task - she kept on being about to throw before being interrupted, or saying her arms were too short, or that she needed a wee, or having a fit of giggles, and the longer it went the worse it got lol

Greg and Alex also had a go at it, and Sue wanted another go without the pressure. Greg and Sue got the ball in but Alex didn't

Don't ask me to remember the context, but at one point during the record, Greg told a story about someone he knew (whose name he said he would tell the others backstage) who would have sex in a cow mask and would demand 'LOOK AT ME!!!'. Anyway that was referred back to a few times in the ep

When Sam was given the trophy he just stood near-motionless with it for what felt like ages before we got to the hugs and everything

And now we enter the magical world of ~what on earth was this note referring to~ where I just hope someone else who was there (@politicalprocrastinator how's your memory?) sees this and can fill me in on what I've forgotten:

At some point around the prize / first task I wrote 'correct dog guess'. Whose dog? What was being guessed? Absolutely no idea

At some point there was a joke about the 'former Prime Minister', I think the idea being that by the time the episode aired we'd inevitably have a new PM? but I honestly can't remember

Someone called someone else submissive in a way notable enough for me to have written 'submissive' as a one-word bullet point, but not notable enough for me to actually remember

And now three bullet points which I will present in their original form:

Birthday

Bum hole in back

Get in bath

#posted on reddit so I thought I'd put it here too #taskmaster #ramblings

175 notes · View notes

skzcre · 1 year

Note

Can’t stop thinking about bratty sub chan, whining and begging to cum

i was abt to say i can’t see chan being a brat but considering how much he annoys the other members…you definitely right 👀 and the way he’s always tryin to act cute n convince everyone he’s the true maknae? he’s a baby. he’s not even bratty bc he necessarily wants punishment (but u can’t tell me he isn’t a light painslut) he just wants your attention and will throw a fit if he doesn’t get it

i imagine you’re maybe trying to get some work done and he’s bored and needy and you aren’t kissing him enough (how dare!!! he needs a kiss every 10 seconds or he’ll die!!!!) and he’s just bothering you. poking your side, nuzzling into your neck and leaving small pecks, whining and pouting and eventually it leads into a fit. he gets all huffy >.< and you’re definitely endeared but you have work you have to get done and you’ve already had to put it off like 10 times because he wanted attention.

you’re trying to be sweet (because baby loves compliments and being praised even though he gets shy) and calm him down but it isn’t working and he just keeps trying to argue and eventually it causes you to have to use force. the funny thing abt brat!chan is that all it takes is a swift yank of his hair and he’s melting in your hands. his brain turns off, he’s full mush.

and now he’s really gotten himself in trouble because he’s leashed to the table with a vibrator tied to his desperately hard cock while you work. occasionally when he starts trying to fight back, you just press your foot onto his cock, not with intention to hurt but just increase the pressure. make him REALLY start begging. and of course, the rule is he can’t cum until you’re finished with what you’re doing. (you’re at least nice enough to leave the vibrator at the lowest setting, but it’s edging him and it’s torture)

barely 10 minutes in, he’s softly sobbing, rutting into the air, quietly begging. pleading. “i’m so sorry, ma’am (or sir, whichever you prefer!). i’m sorry for being a brat, i’ll do anything. i wanna be a good boy, i-i promise i’ll be good. just please, i can’t take it anymore. need your touch so bad.”

and you just can’t help it. you’ve got a little more to do, but baby’s so pretty when he cries :( you can’t help but take pity on him, cooing at him and kissing away his tears.

“have you learned your lesson, honey?”

“yes, yes! i’ll never bother you when you’re working again, i promise!”

the vibrator comes off, and you reward him with some neck kisses (and bites, god he’d mark up so well) and your soft hands around his cock. it doesn’t take long before he’s making a mess, leaving a small pool of his cum on the carpet. you’ll make him clean that later.

both of you clean up, you give him the aftercare he needs, lots of cuddles and praises and all the kisses he can take and before long he’s fast asleep on your lap. and finally, you can get some damn work done T_T

(this turned out longer than i intended, i always end up wandering off omfg)

#sub!skz has me in a chokehold rn i wont lie #ask box: chan #skz smut #stray kids smut #skz hard hours #skz hard thoughts #sub!skz #sub skz #sub bang chan #skz chan smut #chan smut #bang chan hard hours #chan hard thoughts

416 notes · View notes

railingsofsorrow · 11 months

Text

Countdown

[s.reid x reader]

summary: Blood and wine were indistinguishable. You couldn't move, you couldn't breathe, the world was giving up on you (or was it the other way around?). You had to keep fighting. If there's one thing you are sure of is that they would find you. He would find you. You just didn't know how much longer you could take until then.

pairing: s.reid x f!reader

w.c: 6.7K

warnings/content: mentions of freud regarding complex mother/son relationships; tw!aggravated assault; tw!coercion caused by substance use; tw!mentions of child abuse, physical and emotional abuse; very tw!graphic violence be aware; tw!blood; tw!descriptions of injuries and scars; cursing; tw!suicide ideation; mentions of hallucinations, tw!abduction and tw!death of a relative; heavy descriptions of losing sense of time; crying; cm usual stuff; poor analysis of a profile cause I'm no aaron hotchner; in resume there's angst; mc cannot get a break. (tell me if I forgot anything plz)

A/N: oof that's a lot of trigger warnings. if you don't feel comfortable, feel free to leave, this isn't a light fic, quite the opposite. mc goes through a LOT. btw do you like wine? I do. (no pun intended) enjoy the reading!

navi

masterpost

follower celebration

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“Suffering is a terrible fire;

it either purifies

or destroys.”

[Oscar Wilde]

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

According to Sigmund Freud, there’s a theory called “the Oedipus complex”. It happens when the child develops a sexual attraction to the opposite-sex parent, meaning that they wish to replace his father to possess his mother, from whom he craves affection.

Spencer’s voice rang through your head as you observed your surroundings. Your hands weren’t tied anymore but the red marks around your wrists made you feel as if the ropes were still there.

There are five stages in this condition, the fifth being the hardest to overcome, but not impossible. However, when the Oedipus complex is not resolved it could lead to an unhealthy attachment towards the opposite-sex parent in adulthood, besides the commitment issues and trouble involving same-sex rivalry.

You also recalled the Doctor detailing statistics about the topic, wildly gesticulating with his hands. But your head was fuzzy and you didn’t know whether your memories were true or if you were making them up anymore. Just as a means to bring you some type of comfort in that endless torture.

He was drugging you.

Paul Knox, the UnSub, was a white male in his mid-forties. Lived alone for most of his life, except for when he married Martha Moore; they stayed together for one year before the marriage ended. Paul worked on a construction site and was described by his coworkers as quiet, “always kept to himself”, and responsible. He always made sure his task of the day was completed before he went home.

His past wasn’t the easiest one. And it seemed as if he couldn’t get away from it. Paul spent his entire childhood being abused by both of his parents, his father, a strict man, sexually abused his wife, who would later take out her anger on her son, by wrapping a belt around his neck and squeezing it until he passed out — This was the signature behavior they found on the crime scenes.

Victimology told you and the team something as clear as day: every woman he murdered was a surrogate to his mother.

And you concluded you had pissed him off enough for him to abduct you and keep you the same way he was keeping his victims.

When you woke up, the only thing you could see was blood.

Blood whenever you stepped.

On your hands.

On your arms.

On your lips.

You could even taste the metallic liquid. And that made you terrified. Not more terrified – of course – than being locked up in a place for god-knows-how-long without a sense of reality. There was a physical fight hours before—or was it days? You couldn't know, time was different where you were. You had a slight chance of speculating if it was day or night due to the minimum crack on one of the walls. Your pinky would fit if anything.

You succeeded in breaking a plate of food he had brought at the back of his head; which barely confused the man as you attempted to sprint towards the door. Well, You did try. Right as you reached the gate, he yanked your hair back and knocked you out on a solid surface.

When you woke up, the first thought that crossed your mind was I'm dead.

You weren’t.

Thankfully, you had just passed out. Again.

Letting out a painful breath, you forced your eyes to stay open. You had to keep trying, you weren’t about to let him win that easily. Before your team found you — if they hadn’t already — you had to buy yourself some time. Once his obsession exceeds its peak, you wouldn't stand a chance.

The sound of another shard of glass clicking against the floor disturbed that deafening silence. Although, no more than actually taking a piece of glass out of your flesh.

You moaned in pain when it was finally out. Maybe being shot would hurt less because I'd blackout. But this hurts like a bitch.

Your breathing was unsteady and you were hyperventilating. There were at least five breathing exercises running through your head as you surveyed the room, looking for a way out. You had been placed in another corner. It was still the same room, but you were seeing it from another angle. This time you could walk; barely, but still. You refused to look at your feet with the trail of blood it left as you walked.

Focus. You need to find a way out.

You're a profiler. Profile him.

Forty-five.

White male.

Abandonment issues caused by his mother leaving him at the age of nine years old.

Each victim was a surrogate to his mother; he kept them for two days and then wrapped a belt around their throats to slash it postmortem. That's his M.O.

You had none of the victim characteristics. You were only unfortunate to be in the right place at the wrong time.

Emily and you were sent to investigate the supposed location the UnSub took his victims to; an old apartment downtown. However, he was onto you as soon as you entered the place. In a moment of distraction, you had been swiped with a chloroform wipe before Emily could blink.

What a cliché way to abduct someone.

On the first day, he covered your mouth with a dirty blanket but kept your hands and feet tied up tightly around a chair. You complied with everything he said, claiming you understood him and that he was so much better than his mother. Wrong move. At the mere mention of her, the guy completely lost it.

You could still feel the slap that made your head turn. No doubt his fingers were marked on your cheek.

Then, radio silence. Your brain worked wildly as you started to analyze your surroundings with undivided attention. There were two dark shelves a few meters away from you and a few boxes scattered around. The room was extremely dark, no windows, and carried a bitter smell. The floor was a blur to you, you didn't know were you were stepping.

Countless bottles on the shelves. It almost reminded you of—

Wait.

There was barely any light in the room, only through that tiny hole in the wall. You assumed it was around evening because of where the angle the shadow was reflecting upon.

1978. Read on the bottle.

This is a wine bottle.

I'm in a wine cellar.

Your happiness was short-lived as your vision blurred, causing you to stumble back slightly.

The bottle slipped from your fingers.

Your mind goes into wildfire when your feet stepped onto something sharp and, immediately, the familiar sensation of it deepening into your skin. You never realized your body was falling, the only thing you could actually grasp onto was the pain, the agony you felt. Your screams echoed through the walls, then your tears joined as a company.

Blood and wine were indistinguishable.

Your vision begins to gloss over, dark spots covering your eyes from reality. It would be only a matter of time until you drifted off again. Was it sad to say that the sensation was becoming familiar? It shouldn't be. You should be fighting for survival.

But your legs had pieces of glass sticking out and your left hand throbbed from an open wound from another piece you had pulled out.

You heaved a shaky exhale, grunting as you tried to step back from the broken bottle. Daring to take a look at your legs was the last you did before the door creaked open, a bitter smile spreading on your dry lips.

“Shit.”

✫・゜・。✫・゜・。

The BAU’s technical analyst typed fast on her computer, her eyes quickly swapping between each screen. She was checking into possible locations Paul Knox could've taken his victims, excluding where the last body was found. His M.O. changed drastically from one night to the other, which meant he was escalating. And angry, extremely angry — Garcia couldn’t imagine something else after hearing the news you had been taken.

“As if this couldn’t get any more creepy…” The blonde mumbled under her breath, eyes scanning over her newfound footage. It was a big house, colonial style colored with a pastel yellow on its walls. The picture showed the Knox’s posing for the camera; mother, son, and husband. Left to right. Something irked her in that image and that’s why she hadn’t dwelled on it when they were looking for the prime suspects’ background. His first home wasn’t relevant, he didn't take his victims there.

They had been so wrong.

Her server picked up on a distinct signal. One that shouldn't be there in such an old building.

“He films it. Everything.” Emily handled five of the eighteen tapes they found in the UnSub’s apartment. Derek shook his head as he saw many names written on each of them.

“There’re eighteen here.” You frowned, counting for the third time. “It’s supposed to be seventeen. We found seventeen bodies.”

“We haven’t found the last one yet.”

And this is how you disappeared from their radar. The eighteenth woman was not found and you were abducted from right under their noses the night after you figured he kept souvenirs from his victims. Necklaces, earrings and those awful recordings.

When Penelope succeeded in hacking into the system, a camera was functioning properly. Just one. The place was dark, but the camera provided a poor lightening and from that, her breath caught in her throat.

“Oh, my god.” The technical analyst covered her mouth in astonishment. There you were, on her computer screen. There was no doubt. She's worked with you in the same environment for nearly five years. You were friends, coworkers, partners in crime. She knew you. And that was breaking her heart.

You were thrown over the floor against a shelf, your head lolling to the side as if you were too weak to lift it. “No, no, no,” Garcia exclaimed, tears trailing down her cheeks and ruining her make-up. The floor was damp with something and she can't even imagine what it was.

“Garcia?” Hotch's voice spoke through their connected microphone. “What is it?”

She had completely forgotten she was in a connected call.

The team was in the round table room, trying to figure out your whereabouts with the help of the clues they had until now. Which were minimal. They were very behind in the UnSub's game.

Garcia's gasp made everyone quit their work, to simply stare at the machine anxiously and wait for the woman's next words.

“We have to find her. Now!” Nothing else can stand out through the line like Penelope's frantic fingers typing fast.

Derek is the first to ask for clarification, “Baby girl, give us something. What happened?”

By now, everyone was on the edge of their seats with the tension.

The line pauses, and before anyone could complain, Penelope interjects in a weak voice, “Come to my cave. You need to see this.”

Once they arrive in Penelope's office, the sight is more than they expected. Way more.

The door opened and a figure walked into the dark room. They all watched with bated breath as Paul Knox crouched down to your weak body, drawing a hand to run through your cheek.

“That son of a—”

“What is that?” Spencer cut Derek off, eyes glued to the man's pocket, something was sticking out of it. His mind works faster than any other, the likelihood of the team having a breakthrough during a case because of his inputs is huge and he's quite proud of that — even though Spencer doesn't give himself much credit.

He feels the dumbest in the room right now.

Not only did he lose you the night you were taken but he couldn't find you. The geographical profile was redone five times by him, he analyzed every detail over and over again, his brain was on fire. But he failed. He failed. How could he do that when you needed him the most? Where was his knowledge and IQ of 187 when he needed it?

Penelope turned off the screen on an impulse, earning discontent reactions from everyone else. She didn't answer them as lots of things started popping up on the other computer screen.

“Garcia.” Spencer presses, jaw clenched. He was really trying to not yell at the technical analyst to find a location fucking faster or else instead of a living agent they would find a body to bury.

No. No, that wouldn't happen. That couldn't happen.

“I'm trying!”

“Try harder!” He yelled, causing every eye to give him impressed looks. Spencer Reid doesn’t scream, he doesn’t raise his voice, he doesn’t lose his cool. But he had never seen you in a pool of your own blood in an unknown place as a hostage before. He had never been so powerless. “He's gonna do something!” He reasoned his outburst with the team. How weren't they desperately losing their minds? Was this what they were like when he had been kidnapped by Tobias Hankel? Extremely collected and calm, just like in any other case? “Are we just going to sit here and watch? This is Y/N!”

The sound of the footage suddenly burst through the cave, causing everyone to freeze up.

“Stop. No, n— what is that? Get the fuck away from me— No!”

“Oh, my god,” Emily mumbles with a hand over her mouth. They weren’t able to see the footage, but hearing your screams was just as painful.

“Reid,” Hotch warned, knowing how hard this was being on him. He shouldn't stay there, it would only make things worse, as much as it pained Aaron what was happening — he was your friend before he was your boss — the situation required him to be the levelheaded one. He couldn't jeopardize your safety because of emotions. “Go take a walk.”

“No.” was Spencer's reply. Before he could snap at anyone else and make the tension in the room increase, a hand squeezed his shoulder.

“C'mon, kid.” Derek tugged his forearm.

“I'm not going anywhere—”

“Yes, yes, you are.” Derek sends him a pointed look, pushing him out of the room “C'mon, let's take a walk. Being like this isn't gonna help us find her.”

“Look,” JJ points to the moving image, Penelope had turned it back on due to Hotch’s request. They were too close to figure out your location and they needed to grasp every detail of wherever that room was. “It’s that a… needle?” That can’t be happening. Not again. JJ flinched back as the syringe was pressed against your neck and your cries started to quieten up. She had seen that film before, it was just a continuous nightmare by now. Spencer’s limp body flashed through her mind, a terrible flashback. Now, you. It wasn’t fair. Hotch took her out of her inner turmoil to say they had found her location. Emily was already out of the room.

“Find our girl. Please, find her.” Penelope gave her a pleading look, her glasses were smeared with tears.

Jenifer didn’t need to be told twice.

✫・゜・。✫・゜・。

Next time you woke up you saw metal bars. There was a steady dripping sound resonating around. You didn't know where it came from, your senses were compromised by your dizziness; sometimes it was distant, sometimes it was right by your side.

Plink. Plink. Plink.

Always three times then a pause.

Paul had put you in a cage. That much was clear, the quadrangle shape along with the metal bars. You could barely stretch out your legs all the way due to the limited space.

Something stirred in your sight and you realized you weren't alone in the room. He's still here.

Where are your instincts? Where are the tactics you use to save someone almost every day? And why aren't you making use of them right now?

The dripping stopped.

Something creaked and your face was being touched. Feeling the familiar reaction of a panic attack approaching, you tried to regulate your breath. This was not the time. You thought. But again, have you had control over anything over these past few days?

“Don't cry. I won't hurt you.”

When you got out of the high of whatever substance he had injected into your system, you winced at the numbness in your left foot. You moved your limbs around, attempting to sit down. He had cleaned you up. You were in different clothes, too. And the blood was gone.

He touched me.

Hetouchedmehetouchedmehetouchedmehetouchedm—

Stay focused.

“13…11…9…7.” You started counting in the odd-numbered pattern you learnt calms you down. “5…3…1…13— What is—” a red light in a corner of the room glinted at you. “Are you recording me?” You exhaled harshly, squinting your eyes. No, that wasn't the dizziness. The red light was probably there the whole time, but it remained unnoticeable. A wave of drowsiness almost knocks you out again but instead, you squeeze your nails against your tight to prevent sleeping — pain was better than the unknown. You didn't know what he did when you were out of it, though you had an idea just a minute ago. “You enjoy your souvenirs, don't you? Sick bastard!”

You're losing your temper, control yourself.

I can't.

I need to get out of here. I need to GET OUT.

“Let me out.” You whispered to nothing.

What takes you to a breaking point? Being held captive by a sociopath maniac or not knowing what to do to escape it?

All of your qualifications went down the drain. Suddenly you didn't have a PhD in Biopsychology.

Survival mode originally evolved to help us handle threats and situations that activate our stress-response systems. When the alternative does not involve escape or fighting, we are wired to freeze, a state of hyperarousal.

It's always better to go ahead with the instructions, otherwise, you might touch a rough spot and their only response will be to eliminate their target.

Your friends’ voices rang through your brain as if they were supposed to help you somehow.

The walls were closing in, rationality was out of the picture.

“Let me out of here, please!”

“Stop screaming. No one will hear.”

You turned towards the door, jaw clenching. You weren't just weak, you were angry. That shouldn't be happening to you, you were just at the wrong place at the wrong time and he took advantage of that.

“They will catch you.” You spat out. “You don't have a chance once they find you, Paul.”

He nodded, crouching down in front of the cage, hands gripping the sidebars. “I'm aware of that.”

That made you freeze.

So it was an all-or-nothing situation? If your probability of getting out of that alive was slim, now it was just ridiculous.

“You need to learn a lesson.” He said, unlocking the cage and crawling in. As much as you tucked yourself in the corner, he was still able to touch you, he was still able to be desperately close. “Beautiful, beautiful, Daisy... Why'd you hurt me like that?”

Daisy.

Daisy…

“Daisy... I did everything you asked me too. Why'd you leave me with him? The bad man? Why?”

The bad man.

Daisy and Caleb Knox, those were Paul’s parents.

At the age of nine Daisy left Paul to Caleb's care and ran away. She was never found.

It's always better to go ahead with the instructions. Play into his fantasy.

“I'm— I'm sorry,” you croaked out, testing the waters.

“Are you really?”

“He made...” Taking a deep breath You felt your tongue heavy and your head spin. You would pass out any minute. How much longer would you handle without food? You can't remember the last time you ate. “... he made me— do that. I wanted to protect you. I did. But he didn't— he didn't let me,” your breath was shallow and you felt yourself floating.

Stay awake.

“Liar.” He mumbled after a while. “Liar!” You didn't expect the slap when it came. The force made you stumble back, pressing your eyes and groaning in pain. “How can you keep lying to me after all these years? You slut! I was alone! With him!”

“I understand,” you replied, shakily, licking your lips as the copper taste filled your tastebuds. “But— but you love me. Don't you?” Opening your eyes, you realized he was a little farther than you expected. His eyes stared right into your soul with a kind of regret and disgust you had never seen. “You were always a good kid, Paul... Would never hurt your mom. Because you're good. Aren't you?”

A lot of things were at stake there. your life, mostly. If you as much as stepped into his anger then you would be done for.

In a blink of an eye he was in front of you again, “I am. I-I I am, mom.” Mom. That's good. He's falling for it. You could save your vomit for later.

Then, you saw the belt. The same one he uses on the victims for the final kill.

Death wasn't a thing to be afraid of. It's simply another part of life. Or, for the believers, eternal life.

You have never been scared of death in your twenty-five years of living. Not when the situation was related to you, at least. Which was completely different if someone on your team got injured badly, let alone your boyfriend. You didn't know what it was that whenever you were in danger's ways, no fear would kick in, only the nice feeling of adrenaline running through your veins.

However, this wasn't like most cases. You knew this one would break you to the core. You would never be the same after that. If you even get the chance to say after this case. Spencer had this experience. He had been abducted and tortured by Tobias Hankel; you've seen how the trauma affected him till this day.

You wondered if Spencer thought if he would get out alive. You wondered if, at some point in that cabin in the woods, he contemplated death as an alternative. Because God knew you were considering it.

✫・゜・。✫・゜・。

Aaron Hotchner marched forward to the backyard of the Knox Mansion as Derek Morgan went in through the backdoor. Spencer Reid and Jennifer Jereau were ordered to enter through the front door.

The two-story manor carried a sense of luxury, although the smell was of something rotten from years back.

It was clear that the inheritance Paul Knox gained from his father had vanished as it had come. The house was almost in ruins, the strong smell of mold all around the walls immediately hit the newcomers. Derek and Aaron met inside close to the living room.

“It's all clear around the kitchen, Rossi,” Derek said, looking around and studying his surroundings. He quickly covered his nose when the smell reached his nostrils. “What is that smell?!”

“I don't know,” Rossi replied, kicking a knocked-over chair. “ There's been a struggle.”

Derek nodded, pointing towards a line of blood leading to the kitchen. It ended there.

“We're running out of time.” Spencer walked in the kitchen with JJ on his trail. “This is useless. She won't be up here. The camera Garcia hacked showed a dark room and it pointed to a door. Possibly the only way in and out.”

JJ nodded in affirmation, shoulders tensing. “Maybe a basement? There's no guest house, right?”

“There's a basement outside.” Rossi clarified. “Hotch is searching there. JJ and Reid search the second floor, Morgan and Prentiss you take the attic. I'll check that ridiculously big greenhouse outside.”

“It's not a basement,” Spencer said, cursing under his breath. Everyone stared at him confusedly. “That was not a basement. It—It looks like one. It's supposed to look like one but didn't you see the bottles and the shelves in the footage? And the liquid when she—” he sucked in a breath. “That's a wine cellar.” He concluded. How couldn't he have seen it before? It was being thrown at his face.

✫・゜・。✫・゜・。

Hotch stepped towards the wood doors, drawing out his gun to tear apart the locket.

He tried as much as he could not to make a sound as he walked down the basement doors. If the smell in the house was bad, down there was suffocating.

“Paul, Paul listen to me! I'm sorry that I left, I'm sorry!”

He halted, surveying the area carefully. It was dark, but his weapon light helped him have a grip on his surroundings. That had definitely been your voice.

“Is Carina here?”

There was a pause.

Carina Grace. One of the missing girls, probably the eighteenth victim of Paul Knox.

“You told me I wasn't alone before, is she here, too, Paul?”

That was a bold move. Hotch knew what you were doing, despite the situation you were still doing your job, but this wouldn't end well.

“You have never been alone.”

Your crying out made him approach fast as he followed the sound. That place could fool anyone by the sight of it before you entered. The wood doors made it look like a small corner, but Hotch could see it as a masked labyrinth.

He kept aiming his gun ahead, entering a room of what he supposed was a wine cellar. Slow and steady steps guided by his instincts; his eyes surveyed every corner of the room until three tall shelves came into sight— and a shadow reflected by the sunlight that entered the only small window in the room.

His eyes narrowed when he saw it move and the silhouette of a gun was pressed to its hand. Hotch swiftly hid behind a near concrete pillar just as the man shot twice in the previous direction he had been in.

Idiot. Aaron mentally cursed, eyeing the only part of the room he hadn't checked yet, behind the shelves.

He saw a glimpse of metal. The UnSub was armed.

“Found her badge and bullet proof vest up here, Hotch.” JJ's voice rang through the radio. Loud enough for only Aaron to hear, thankfully. “The perimeters are being checked but I don't think—” He could hear the strain in her voice.

“The wine cellar isn't clear, yet.” Hotch said with his tone contained, eyes glued to the UnSub's shadow. He hasn't moved. What was this asshole planning to do? “He's here. Block all exits.”

“What about her?”

“She's here, too,” Hotch replied to Reid, squinting at the moving silhouette.

“You're in the basement, aren't you?” He breathed out at the sound of Emily's voice.

“Yes.”

“I'll meet you there.”

“There's another body here and he's armed.” Be careful.

Emily spoke to someone else and then he tuned everything out.

✫・゜・。✫・゜・。

“Spencer!” JJ tried to pull him back but he yanked his arm out of her reach, sprinting towards the backyard. “Would you calm down? You can't barge in like this!” She hissed in frustration.

He turned back and said through gritted-teeth. “If it were Will, would you be calm?”

She blinked at him, opening and closing her mouth in shock. “I—”

“You know how I feel, you've been there, so why do you keep asking me to calm down?” Spencer spat out.

JJ silently approached him by the entrance, swallowing the guilt her whole body was drowning in. “I'm sorry. I'm just trying to make you think, alright? Spence, she needs all of us. She needs you, so we need to think straight. Our goal is to get her out.” Alive.

“Do you think we can?”

He asked softly, voice small.

She squeezed his shoulder and widened the basement opening. “Yes, we can.” She stepped in, turning to him before he could enter. “Don't step away from me. We don't split up, ever, deal?”

That was something she always said whenever they were paired up in a situation like that. And that's when Spencer noticed that what he suffered didn't just affect him, but everyone else around him.

“Okay.”

✫・゜・。✫・゜・。

Hotch had finally caught sight of you. He could see your frame in a corner of the wall, the sunlight didn't help him visualize anything, it was too minimal. He didn't know whether you were awake or— he couldn't see. “Paul, do you think your mother would be proud of that behavior? Killing women? Hurting them?” He needed to get closer and for that, he had to get inside his mind.

“You don't understand,” Paul said calmly. Hotch hears beneath that contained tone, he was a walking time bomb. But they were on countdown before your location was even found, the team knew who Paul was, they knew how he escalated in the last weeks, and they knew his weak spot, too.

“You're right,” Hotch said, craning his neck to the side when he saw your voice. More like a whimper. Low, discreet, but there. You were alive. And he intended on keeping that way. “I don't understand. I didn't go through what you did. I was not left in a house by someone that's supposed to care for me. I was not left to a parent that never loved me.”

Silence.

“Paul. She deserves everything you did to her. Every beating. Every truth spat out on her face. Every day locked up here. She was supposed to be a good mother back then, why is she trying now, after all.”

“She never loved me.”

Bingo.

“Is that what you think?”

There was shuffling around and then a gun was pointing directly at him, but Hotch had a shelf to cover behind. Paul was finally in his aim, vulnerable. Not yet.

“Do you think people change, Agent?” Paul asked him, cocking the gun at him mockingly. He then looked back at you, tongue moving across his lips slowly. “I don't think so. That's why I didn't kill her. Yet.”

You said something else but Hotch couldn't hear. He wasn't close enough. You weren't safe yet. Not yet.

The clock was ticking.

“For some people, death is just another way out.”

Everything happened so fast his mind didn't grasp it until it happened.

He heard a click. Then the sound of gunfire exploded through the wine cellar.

Paul Knox was on the floor, his head had two gunshot wounds on the forehead and blood leaked through it. Eyes wide open. He didn't see it coming.

Quick and effective.

A perfect aim to kill.

He thought it would be Emily at the entrance, gun pointing right at Paul's head. He's seen her frustration at herself for losing you that day, it was a matter of time until she snapped.

But he was met with Spencer Reid barging into the wine cellar instead. A stunned JJ frozen at the entrance.

Reid's movements carried no hesitation as he dashed towards the body, snatched the keys out of his pockets and stepped back to unlock the cage you were in.

It was foolish to check if he was still alive. Two shots to the head - that was the outcome Hotch didn't want. Paul Knox was supposed to go to jail for the rest of his life. Because of the victims he terrorized, because of the days he stole from one of his own that she would never get back.

“We found Carina.” Derek told him as they watched you being pulled into the ambulance. He didn't need to be told that they only found her body. Carina Grace had been missing for a month. “Same way as the other girls.”

“Safe to say he won't be dreaming about hurting anyone else.” Rossi made the comment as a body bag was transferred out of the wine cellar.

Hotch glanced towards Reid, who had just entered the ambulance by your side.

He would lecture him later. The only thing that mattered now was that you were safe.

✫・゜・。✫・゜・。

When you fluttered your eyes open, you quickly shut them again. The lights were strong and forceful. Light. Was this the sunlight? Had he dumped your body somewhere? Were you finally dead and this was your spirit floating over what was left of you?

You hadn't felt that cool air in days. It almost felt like air-conditioning. A soft fabric wrinkled between your fingers and your leg… you could move it. You could feel it. There was no numbness.

“Take a deep breath. It's okay, you're safe.”

You're hallucinating. Because what you were hearing didn't make any sense. It couldn't be. Your head was searching for ways to bring your relief. That's the only reasonable answer.

Reasonable. What about this situation is reasonable?

“You're safe,” He repeated.

You forced your eyelids open, despite the bothersome whiteness. The first thing you saw was Spencer, his honey brown eyes with heavy bags of sleepless nights around them, his soft smile that threatened to spill the sadness hanging over him.

You could touch his hand.

But the calm doesn't last for long.

“You're not here.” You snatched your fingers away.

This is not real. I'm dreaming again.

Hurt flashed through his eyes. “I am.”

“That's not you.”

“That's me, sweetheart. This is real, we got you out—”

“No!”

He flinched back, watching as the heart monitor went off. A group of nurses entered the room to check the commotion; it took five people to hold you down. He never saw you like that. That's anger, that pain. He'd never seen it in your eyes. JJ had to pull him out of the room otherwise he would stay there, frozen.

You weren't seeing him.

He provoked that nervous breakdown.

“Stop. Hey, don't do this,” he could feel air entering his lungs but his chest hurt. “Spencer, this isn't—”

“Don't.” He said shortly, shaking his head. “I shouldn't have…” He stared at his hands as if they had committed a crime, trying to blink away his tears.

“This isn't your fault, Spence.”

“I should've figured it out sooner.” He said, burying his head between his hands. “I do it all the time. Why couldn't I do it now, why couldn't I find her sooner?”

Sobs racked through his body and he felt arms wrapping around him some sort of comfort. He didn't feel it. He wanted you. He wanted to make you feel better, he didn't need to be taken care of. He didn't deserve it.

“It wasn't your fault,” JJ repeated, tightening her hold on him. “We were all in this. And she's fine now. She's safe.”

“She'll never be fine again.” He mumbled through her shirt. It physically pained him to see you like this, as if your mind was playing you. The worst was that he knew what that felt like. He wished he didn't. Actually, he wished that it was him instead. He'd go through it all again just to spare you of that trauma. That haunting pain that would follow you and make you doubt everything.

He didn’t mean that he didn’t want you to be fine, of course, he wanted it. That kind of trauma, however, doesn’t just let you go, it’s like a shadow looming over you, a tall ghost.

I should've found her sooner. He couldn't stop thinking that. I should've found her sooner.

An hour passed and nobody moved from the waiting room. They were anxious and on edge waiting for an update. Penelope had drifted off on Derek's shoulder a few minutes ago, Emily had bitten all of her cuticles as much as Rossi reprimanded her on it, Hotch would leave and come back with coffee refills and JJ had left a while ago to speak to Will and her kids. As for Spencer, he was just there. Not mentally, just physically.

He needed to see you okay to function again.

“She'll need you.” He snapped around to Hotch's voice. At some point, his feet reached the end of the hall, a cup of water in his hands. He wasn't even thirsty. “She'll need you when she wakes up. More than anyone else.” His boss added.

Spencer knew what he meant by that. It wasn't just in the literal sense.

“I know.” He responded.

“Then you need to be there.”

Get a grip on yourself.

“I will.” Spencer swallowed hard, looking up at him. “I will.” He repeated, throwing the cup on the trash can and taking a deep breath. Hotch squeezed his shoulder reassuringly on his way back.

When the doctor called him back to the room, you were already awake.

✫・゜・。✫・゜・。

“Spencer?”

You croaked out, blinking multiple times to undo the blurred image of the long-haired genius.

“Hi,” he replied, lowering to the seat beside your bed. You oversaw his movements carefully. He looked shaken up but he mustered one of those smiles you were done for from the first day you walked in the Bureau.

“Can you tell me something?” You requested, clearing your throat. You didn’t trust your senses, but it sounded and looked like your boyfriend. Your mind couldn’t play sturdy tricks like that, could it?

Outsretching your arm long enough to reach him, you nudged his hand. He pulled the chair closer and intertwined your fingers. That was the first time you felt warmth in days.

“What about?”

“Something only you would know.”

Bring me back to reality.

He sighed, lifting your palm to his cheek. “You hate the color gray,” his eyes locked into yours as he recalled your words from a few months ago when you had revealed this to him. “It was your brother's favorite color. He wore it all the time. When he died, you could never look at anything gray because it would remind you of him.”

You stayed quiet.

“You hate when people keep telling you to wear your hair down because it looks pretty. You know it does, but you feel uncomfortable with the strands touching your neck. You love sunlight the same amount you love cloudy days – not thunderstorms, you’re scared of those. Especially lightning.” You let out a tearful chuckle to which he grinned. “You have a tattoo on the inner side of your left thigh, it's the page number and the line order of your favorite Norwegian Wood edition, your favorite book. You had a secret obsession with the theme from that animated movie…” his voice trailed off, a crease between his brows.

“You mean Let it go from Frozen?”

Spencer’s lips twisted in a pout, “Sorry if I don’t know that much about pop culture.”

“You’re hopeless at it, Spence.”

“I’m not that bad.” He rolled his eyes, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “How are you feeling?” He asked, eyes softening. You traced the tip of his nose, eyes scanning his features so you’d cement it to your brain.

“Better,” you replied. It was the truth. He nodded, brushing a strand behind your ear gently. “Thank you.”

Spencer lifted his chin to glimpse at you, disappointment draping over his gaze. “I didn’t do anything.” Disappointment at himself. The failure that he was during the case when you needed him the most. You furrowed your brows at the tear trailing down his cheek, drying it with your thumb. Reaching for his arms, you waited until he adjusted enough at the edge of your bed so you could rest your head on his chest. His heartbeat rang through your ears like a long-awaited tune.

“I know you did, Spencer. All of you did. Hey,” you tapped his chin so he could meet your eyes. “I'm here, aren't I?”

He frowned. “You almost weren't.”

“But I am,” you insisted. Your gaze darkened and you shifted on the bed causing the thin blanket to fall off one of your legs. You were all bandaged up, literally. “You know, I… I lost track of time. After the first two days I nearly went crazy. I knew you'd find me but I— I—”

“You don't have to talk about it if you're not ready.” Spencer reassured you softly. He saw the way you stared at your legs, it was the scars beneath the bandages that you were seeing. And the ones beyond your body. “I love you,” he mumbled against your hair, caressing your arms and cradling you into his hold. “We got you out. You're safe now, alright? I promise.”

You resigned with a long breath, burying your face in his shoulder. That heaviness brewing over your thoughts vanished under his touch, wrapping safety around you instead.

“I love you too, Spencer.” You said, curling into his side. Now that you knew you were safe, you could feel the exhaustion weighing down your eyelids. “Can you stay?”

He hummed, tucking his chin above your head and shifting on the bed for a better position. It wasn't the most comfortable setting and you two would probably — certainly — wake up with your backs hurting. But Spencer would do anything for you.

“I won't go anywhere, don't worry.”

That was what comfort felt like. You weren't dreaming. That was real.

The nightmare was finally over.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“Isn’t it funny how day by day

nothing changes,

but when you look back,

everything is different. ”

[C.S. Lewis]

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

sources used: [1]; [2]; [3]

taglist: @lilyviolets

#criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid angst #criminal minds imagine #countdown

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livingbreathingdreams · 5 months

Text

Pedro Pascal Character Fics 💖

• DIN DJARIN • JAVIER PEÑA • JOEL MILLER • FRANKIE MORALES • JACK DANIELS • DIETER BRAVO •

🌸 Slow burn [because I’m a sucker for endless buildup] ⎮ ⚪️ Friends to lovers ⎮ 🧡 Personal favorite ⎮ * There is cheating (by the main characters, which I don't condone, but the story is so good I'm making an exception)

Din Djarin

Series

❤︎ A Fresh Start @theidiotwhowritesthings 🌸🧡

When you made plans for your future they never involved being hired by a Mandalorian to baby-sit his adorable, green gremlin of a child. However, after your life fell apart in the span of one disastrous night, you found it to be the only feasible option you had left. Nevarro was a far cry from Coruscant, but the thriving community turned out to be exactly what you needed. Every day you spend in Nevarro you fall more and more in love with your new life, but when your past rears its ugly head you find that perhaps peace wasn’t meant for everyone.

❤︎ To the Bone @honeydjarin 🌸

Your soulmate is a bounty hunter, one who intends to collect the price on your head, even if that means bringing you in cold. You can’t run, can’t hide, can’t avoid the inevitable, so you intend to weaponize your silence.

❤︎ home is wherever I'm with you @saradika

When it appears the droid repair will take longer than expected, Din finds himself taking Karga up on his offer for the parcel of land. And when you go to give your new neighbor a warm welcome - you never imagine that it would be the very man you haven’t been to stop thinking about.

❤︎ Of Constellations & Creeds @ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa 🌸

Everyone loves the Alpha and Omega Fated Mates for Life troupe so, what if The Mandalorians were a society of Alphas, a dying race because your sisterhood of Omegas are becoming more and more rare by the day? You and Din were mated before you were born, your futures written in the stars–and that pissed you off, both of you. At least in the beginning.

❤︎ of beskar and kyber @penvisions 🌸

You’ve been on the run for as long as you can remember, from a lot of different people and a lot of different things. Everyone seems to see you as either a prize to show off or a captive to exploit. You had been successful in keeping a low profile and evading brief captures. That is until your mother contracted the Guild and the Mandalorian came to possess your tracking fob. Will he be the reason your freedom is no longer something attainable or will he be the one to help you achieve it in ways you never anticipated?

❤︎ unearthed @grippingbeskar

Royal!Reader, arranged marriage, need I say more?

Javier Peña

Series

❤︎ Teach Me Tonight @storiesofthefandomlovers ⚪️

Y/N and Javier both have things to talk about when he visits her apartment one night. Y/N tells her partner about her crush on Brad from the CIA and reveals that she is a virgin and has barely been kissed. She wants to make sure she can impress Brad and asks Javier to educate her on all things sex and seduction.

One Shots

❤︎ going slow @ezrasbirdie sex hurts and Javier is an angel 🌶

Joel Miller

Series

❤︎ Honeyed @softlyspector Tattoo Artist!Joel AU 🌸⚪️🧡

You hate being touched, but you might be willing to put aside your discomfort for a tattoo from Joel.

❤︎ a stranger's heart without a home @morning-star-joy 🌸⚪️🧡

Sleeping with Joel Miller was supposed to be a one time thing. When the older brother of your closest friend showed up in Jackson, you hadn't expected him to stay more than a day. You'd both given into a brief moment of passion before he left, and that was the end of that. It didn't matter, you were never going to see him again. Then Joel returns a few months later, and screws up everything about the comforting life you had established in Jackson.

❤︎ Yearling @justagalwhowrites 🌸⚪️

After years of surviving in the wilds of Wyoming after the cordyceps outbreak, you find yourself in Jackson. It's a town filled with friendly faces and the kind of world you hardly remember, let alone can connect with or understand. But one man - Joel Miller, another loner, like you - makes you think that trying to find your place in society again might be worth it.

❤︎ Reflection of the Moon @chloeangelic *

An affair and resulting pregnancy with Joel in post-outbreak Jackson forces you both to reflect on what it means to forgive.

❤︎ SOMETHING TO FIGHT FOR @auteurdelabre 🌸* [buckle up this one is devastating friends]

After a disastrous blind date you decide to stay away from the miserable Joel Miller forever. The only problem is your best friend Maria is dating his brother and their construction company has been hired to renovate where you work. In an effort to support your friend, you’re thrust into the unwanted job of babysitting Joel’s young daughter one night. As time goes on you’re not expecting to find a confidant in Joel Miller but when you do, you wonder how you ever survived without him.

❤︎ Maintenance Request @burntheedges Modern AU 🌸

Hot Construction Guy is the bane of your existence - he seems to only pop up at the worst possible moment for you, every time you see him. There’s no way there could be something more there. Right?

One Shots

❤︎ Good as New @forever-rogue Joel stitches you up

❤︎ Body of Water @lambsigh body hair insecurity, soft!Joel

❤︎ skinny dipping with Joel @swiftispunk shy/innocent reader

❤︎ give in @cupofjoel Joel shows you how to love yourself 🌶

❤︎ adoration @morallyinept cancer/mastectomy 🌶 [part of BODIES a Collection of Pedro Boy & Real Body Reader One Shots]

Frankie Morales

Series

❤︎ the layover @goodwithcheese 🌸

One night can change everything. (Frankie and reader are both parents so children will be present occasionally, Frankie is such a good dad.)

❤︎ Shared Breaths @frenchiereading 🌸

On the first day of school you meet single dad Frankie Morales and his daughter who is enrolled in your first grade class. As the year progresses, what started as parent-teacher conversations grow deeper, your encounters grow more frequent and feelings that you shouldn’t entertain for a student’s parent are becoming harder and harder to ignore.

One Shots

❤︎ acts of service @swiftispunk you've never had your pussy ate and your best friend Frankie helps you out 🌶

Jack Daniels

Series

❤︎ Palomino @fuckyeahdindjarin 🌸🧡

Unable to get a refund for a week-long horse-riding pack trip you'd booked with your ex, you decide to go solo. As it turns out, a rebound with a cowboy named Jack while traversing the wild landscapes of Wyoming might just be what you need.

Dieter Bravo

Series

❤︎ Celestial Navigation @write-and-buried 🌸🧡

Dumped and drowning in a summer storm, you duck inside a coffee shop to hide from your broken heart. Covered in plants and hand drawn images over exposed brick, it seems like a slice of heaven. The owner brings you a blueberry muffin and a promise; you'll fall in love with him before the new year.

❤︎ Sweet Creature @wildemaven 🌸

A washed up movie star with a failing career, fresh out of rehab and looking to turn his life around. He moves back to his small hometown to take a break from stardom and help his sister out with his niece— He’s traded the high-life for school runs and crafting. What he doesn’t except is to meet you, his niece’s school teacher who couldn’t care less about his extensive filmography or his dwindling fame.

❤︎ starstruck @ezrasbirdie ⚪️

What happens when a lonely dieter bravo actually answers an Instagram message from a fan?

❤︎ A LITTLE SUN @auteurdelabre 🌸⚪️

As a PA to megastar and mega man-child Dieter Bravo you've had your fair share of headaches. Getting accidentally pregnant with his baby however takes the cake, especially when he offers to pay you to be his surrogate. You just weren't expecting to fall in love with him along the way.

❤︎ bright lights @ezrasbirdie 🌸 Neurodivergent!Reader

Dieter Bravo is a man so complicated that his personal assistant needs her own personal assistant just to keep up with his demands, and that’s where you come in. Part time, flexible hours, and a free place to live—you can’t imagine a more perfect gig. You don’t even mind the budding crush you have on Mr. Bravo; that is, until your boss falls ill right before awards season, leaving you to pick up the slack.

#livingbreathingdreams #fic recs #pedro pascal fandom #din djarin x reader #mando x reader #javier pena x reader #joel miller x reader #jack daniels x reader #friends to lovers #slow burn #dieter bravo x reader #frankie morales x reader

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cookiesaddict · 1 year

Text

I feel like Belos never intended to murder his brother. His body position shows that he is not walking towards Caleb with the knife. His head, chest etc is not directly facing Caleb but facing the other direction. I believe Philip is walking towards Evelyn with the knife, and that he intended to kill her, not Caleb. And Caleb is just trying to defuse the situation. Masha did say Belos wanted to safe his brother and bring the witch that took him to justice.

Which left us with three options that I can think of happened:

1) Belos accidentally killed Caleb. He wanted to kill Evelyn, but Caleb got in between to protect Evelyn and unintentionally got the blow.

2) Belos wanted to kill Evelyn, but got himself lost in anger and he ended up accidentally killing Caleb instead.

3) Belos wanted to kill Evelyn at first, but then he realized that Caleb won’t be able to be saved because he was too far gone. So Belos decided it was better to kill them both.

Lots of people here on tumblr pointed out that Belos kept Caleb’s jacket. But may I add that not only did Belos kept Caleb’s jacket, but Caleb also carved him a mask during their childhoods, and decades later he used the same design for his mask as emperor.

Not only that, but he also kept the doodle of him and Caleb after the murder. Yes, it was after the murder because Philip’s beard is longer. He already had the titans blood, no need to keep it but he did. It doesn’t matter if Caleb drew it or Belos himself, he still kept if after the murder. He even made countless Grimwalkers to have some version of his brother with him, knowing full well they will all eventually betray them when they find out the truth.

This man is dealing with unresolved grief and guilt in an unhealthy way, desperate to cling to anything that links to his brother and his past. “Because of you, we can finish our work as witch hunters together”. Belos says, while possessing Hunter, which is a Grimwalker of his brother. In his mind, he’s in Caleb’s body now. He is now together with his brother. This line shows that Belos desires for normalcy and that he can’t let go of the past, he wants things to be how they where when he and Caleb were still witch hunters. Before Evelyn, before the boiling isles, when it was just him and Caleb and no one else. Which is why I think he created grimwalkers of Caleb, it’s the desire for normalcy and return to the past but also the grief and guilt he is experiencing.

According to Belos, he committed genocide because he wants to safe humanity. It looks like that he has a god complex? But I think Caleb might have played a role in it as well as to why he did it? “Our family is gone because of wild magic”. I won’t be surprised that if Belos blamed the witches for Caleb’s murder rather than taking full accountability. I think he has that if these witches didn’t brainwashed Caleb, I wouldn’t have killed him mindset. And what better way of revenge is to destroy the world and everything in it that took his brother away from him?

I’ve seen fans wondering why spending decades around witches, Belos still sees them as evil rather than good. Well, he feels guilty for murdering his brother and is hiding behind his beliefs as an excuse I think? Like I said, he is blaming his death on witches. Admitting that witches are good, is admitting you’re brother was right and that it is your fault he is death. I think deep down he knows witches are good and that he’s in the wrong for murdering Caleb, he is just being a hypocrite?

Belos has complicated feelings towards Caleb. He is angry with Caleb for abandoning him for witches (in his eyes he did), but at the same time I think he loves him. He has good memories of them together which he is unanable to let go off. Like I said, he is grieving him. Remember, Belos and Caleb are orphans. Belos lost his parents, his brother was the only thing he still had. The one who raised him. The one who didn’t abandoned him. Caleb wanting to stay the boiling isles must have hard for him.

All of this what I just described. The guilt, grief, clinging to anything that links to his brother and past, such as his coat. The grimwalkers, the desire for normalcy, I think option 1 and 2 is more likely rather than option 3. Especially if Evelyn is pregnant, which she seems she is. Caleb was about to have child with a witch. Most likely in his mind, he wanted to kill Evelyn and it’s offspring, take his brother home, and unbrainwash him so they can be witch hunters once again. So yeah, I believe Caleb’s death is more of an accident rather than intended.

Take what a wrote about Belos with a grain of salt. So please be nice! This is how I view Belos, and I’m aware that I could be wrong. Season 3 is still going on, and everything that I have written can still be disproved. Belos is a complex character, which makes it difficult to analyse him. Which is why I love Belos, because of how complex, interesting and well written he is. I always feel I should add this whenever I write about Belos: even though I like Belos, I do not condone his actions. And I’m not excusing his behavior in any way. What he has done is by all means not okay, and plain out disgusting.

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gin-juice-tonic · 2 months

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can i ask how youre able to make so many comics or if you have any tips for aspiring internet funny comic makers? your gag comics are always so creative and funny and well-executed, and your longer form stuff is just a delight to read, i would love to know if u have any advice/insight into yr process

I'm not good at advice so you will have to bear with me here. Also I'm putting it under a readmore cause images make it into a long post. The like first 3/4th of this I talk about specific comics I did, but if you scroll to the end I tried to give some general advice.

My stuff is unfortunately very inspiration-based as opposed to planning-based. So my process might not be helpful if you're looking for something structured... The first thing I should say is I write down basically anything that pops into my head ever. I have a bunch of nonsensical tumblr drafts,

I have stuff in my phones notes app,

I have pages and pages of papers and post-it notes littering my apartment (if you want to know the extent, my sister asked me how I could live with my apartment being so "messy". The only messy thing in it is my papers scattered about). I find the paper stuff the best, because I can draw instead of just writing down concepts.

This is the page I did for the comic about Stan "comforting" Dipper over his unrequited crush on Wendy. (The tumblr version being here)

You will notice aside from the order on the page being strange and some scratched out dialogue, there's not really evidence of a 'plan' here. That's because I was just drawing this as I was thinking it. You will also notice there are two random unrelated Ford drawings in the middle of the page. That's because I was drawing ANYTHING that I was thinking of.

And when I say write down anything, I do mean it. Write down something you did that week, something you remember from when you were 8, something you said out loud and laughed at, things you thought about in the shower, a fact you learned, what your friend had for dinner. See if you can apply it to something. I've mentioned before that this comic only exists because I ran out of toilet paper and went to buy a large bulk pack of it...

When I already have a base idea and just want to expand on it, I usually draw first ask questions later, and things seem to just snowball into being a story. As an example, for the comic I did about Dipper's swimsuit, the base idea was just "Dipper and Stan both wear fully covering swimwear - because they're trans and its what they're comfortable with." But when I went to look up what Dipper wore to the pool, i noticed mabel had a Star one piece suit

Dipper has a star hat in the first episode that he loses, right? SO why don't we give him a matching star one piece that he abandons.

Of course then that single drawing CREATES the story, because we have to explain how he eventually ends up in what he's wearing in the episode. And then I just draw and draw and draw until either the comic ends or I can't continue for whatever reason. The outline for the full thing usually forms while I'm drawing. If I'm worried about forgetting, I'll write down what comes next.

Some of this stuff I didn't stick to, or greatly expanded upon. It's good to be flexible with what you're doing. If something you originally intended only to be a throwaway bit inspires you, roll with it and keep going. (If it ends up being nothing, you can always discard it or turn it into something else later anyway)

I did the swimsuit one basically fully on my computer, but if you want to see another paper based one, a lot of the comic with the kid stans and crampelter I'm doing currently is down on paper.

If you can make out my writing, you can see it says "Crampelter has found out about Stan and Ford's boxing identities" at the top there, which was the general main idea of this part of the comic. This one was a lot more planned than the dipper swimsuit one. There's multiple pages of this sort of stuff, and I knew the idea I wanted was "If Ford and Stan are trans, why would they still be called those names as kids?" (So I guess the takeaway from this one is if you're wanting a structured comic, write down the main idea on the top of a page and brainstorm dialogue and drawings on it?)

There's a lot of sort of floating heads with dialogue, all that matters is I get the emotions or general idea drawn. They're important for me to draw out because being able to "see" the scene (even if I'm seeing it heavily unfinished) is what usually inspires the next bit of the comic.

And I know I talked like a lot already but some general other advice:

Draw, ask questions about what you've drawn, draw more to answer the questions, see if those new drawings ask any new questions, continue this process till you come to a satisfying resolution.

It's fine to not draw something immediately after you've thought of it. I have a lot of things I've just squirreled away for later. And in the same vein its okay to drag something old up that you've never used and try to work with it.

I almost always put on music while I'm trying to think of things. Something I feel fits the mood of what I'm doing tonally. And then I usually just put the same song on repeat, though some people im sure would feel like that is psychological torture. But its helpful to me.

This might sound silly if you're someone who leaves the house a societally normal amount, but I try to go out into the world and do things so I get new ideas and experiences I can build on. Sometimes those things are literally just "go to the park", but sometimes it's venturing out somewhere several hours away or doing an activity i'd never care to do normally... I try to take note of anything that stood out to me and write down thoughts or feelings I had during.

When it comes to trying to be "funny", you should try to make yourself laugh first. Not only because you want your comics to bring yourself joy, but also because its just hard to make stuff you don't care about (And harder to be consistent about it). Though if you think of something and you don't really think its funny, you don't have to throw it away! You might be surprised what other people end up liking. So don't kill yourself to write jokes you yourself don't really get, but if your brain spits out something on its own you dont care much for, it still may be gold to someone else.

It's okay to make comics about simple and relatable things. People love relating. And depending on what you're writing about, that relatability may be really needed!

Everyone has something of value to say. Even if you yourself don't feel like the things you're saying matter, or that they're too silly or un-serious to matter. They matter.

#ask stuff #sorry its so long and probably largely unhelpful

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valleyof-goldenlilies · 9 months

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Se Zaldrizoti’ Prumia - Chapter 6: The Secrets of The Red Keep (Daemon Targaryen x Tyrell!Reader)

Chapter 6: The Secrets of The Red Keep

In the Red Keep, it’s not just the rats that creep, but secrets too. And in the game of thrones, secrets kill as much as rats carrying plague do.

HOTD Masterlist | Main Masterlist |

Warnings: Lots of stuff happening, Viserys being an L as always, Y/N being kind of an ass, slow burnnnnnnnnnn

Word Count: 7.7k words (so. much. is. happening.)

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire and Blood characters, save for Y/N Tyrell, although I did expand on their characterisation, which might deviate from canon. All credit for the characters goes to George RR Martin and the showrunners of HOTD. The GIF above is also not mine, original credit to the creator is stated above. Go check them out!

A/N: Here it is, you guys! I’m so sorry it came later than expected 😭 and that it is much longer than expected too. But I snuck in a Daemon cameo at the end so 😁 I hope you guys enjoy!

lovely dividers courtesy of @firefly-graphics !

It was drawing nigh six months since Prince Daemon’s disinheritance and subsequent departure to Dragonstone. All across the realm, winter had reached its end, and flecks of green have begun dotting the bare trees once more. The smallfolk’s chatter and laughter grew gradually in abundance, as with spring always comes the promise of new beginnings.

The nobles too, harboured the hope for new beginnings. Gowns and coats of fur were swapped out for attire of lighter fabrics, and the misery caused by the chill of winter were replaced with eager ambition to propel themselves into the centre of power. And no one seemed to exemplify that more than the Lady Y/N Tyrell.

Gone was the devoted, yet somewhat prickly and brash lady-in-waiting of the late Queen. In its place, was someone much changed. Where in the past she had served Queen Aemma, these days, she was akin to a second shadow to the Princess Rhaenyra, heir to the Iron Throne, even moreso than her usual companion, the Lady Alicent. The kinder whispers expressed gladness that the Lady Y/N had taken pity on the Princess, who had lost her mother at such a young age, and had stepped up as a maternal figure in an act of benevolence. The more vicious gossips, however, sniggered that mayhaps Lady Y/N had been possessed by the spirit of a particularly determined leech. “The rose sinks its thorns into another dragon after one passes,” they mocked.

All these whispers you heard, but you simply did not possess the means to care. ‘Words are wind,’ you scoffed to yourself. Although…Tis’ true you were leveraging on your close connections with the Princess…but it was for self preservation. With Aemma and Daemon gone, you had gotten close to Rhaenyra, becoming something akin of a mother figure to her, which made your influence at court grow exponentially. Having the favour of the heir to the throne was a powerful thing, and you intended to use it to serve your own means. However, you couldn’t shake off your feeling of guilt for using Rhaenyra this way. You oft wondered if Aemma would approve of you doing so if she was still alive. But if she were…then there would have been no need for you to do this. You swallowed down the painful lump in your throat. It doesn’t matter now, you told yourself sternly. The dead are the dead, as Daemon said, and as long as you were alive, you would do whatever it takes to make sure you stayed at the Red Keep.

You arrived at the castle sept, where Rhaenyra was standing to the side while Alicent was kneeling in the midst of prayer. You curtsied to Rhaenyra, whose face lit up as soon as she saw you, though it did little to lighten the visible gloom on her face.

“Your Grace,” you greeted softly. “I told you so many times that you should call me by my name, Y/N,” Rhaenyra chided softly. You smiled apologetically, “Apologies, it is a force of habit.” Rhaenyra smiled wistfully, “You always called me by my name when Mother was…” her voice trailed off and her head drooped. You tilted your head in Alicent’s direction, “You’re not praying?” Rhaenyra hesitated, “I must confess that I’ve never really prayed before..”

You smiled, guiding her to where Alicent was kneeling. “Well, no time to begin like the present, then.” You took notice of the figure she was praying to: The Mother. How fitting.

Kneeling down next to Alicent, you felt Rhaenyra tentatively do so next to you. Alicent offered the both of you candles, and you showed Rhaenyra how to light them. The three of you knelt there in silence for a while, minds occupied with your own vastly different thoughts. “I find…” Alicent spoke gingerly, “That this is a way to be with my mother. Here in the quiet of the sept.” She hesitates, looking back at the statue of the Mother. “Does it sound foolish?”

“I don’t think it sounds foolish,” Rhaenyra piped up next to you.

Alicent smiled at that, before turning to you, observing how your eyes were watching the figure of the Mother pensively. “Do you pray often, Y/N?” You smiled wistfully, “Piety was never one of my stronger suits, I’m afraid. But I remember…when I lost my lady mother, I prayed day and night that I wouldn’t be sent back to Highgarden.”

“You disliked your home?” Rhaenyra asked softly. You pondered over her question, before shaking your head slightly. “To me, Highgarden never really felt like home. Perhaps it was because I had been born and raised in the Red Keep for most of my days, but I consider King’s Landing to be my only home.” You didn’t tell her that it was the looming threat of your duties as the sole daughter of House Tyrell that kept you from recognising Highgarden as your home. Rhaenyra nodded sagely.

“I’m…I’m afraid I’m not quite sure what to pray to the Mother for,” Rhaenyra hesitantly says, “Should I pray for anything specific?” You smiled wistfully, “You only need to follow your heart. The Gods will listen to you if your sincerity can be felt.” Alicent nodded in agreement, and the three of you lapsed into silence once more, praying on your own. You closed your eyes, and Aemma flashed into your memories. She was always smiling at you then, and your heart ached deeply whenever you remembered her.

“...the day of the tourney,” Alicent and Rhaenyra turned to you inquisitively, as you took a deep breath, letting the scent of the smoke sooth you, “I told you I was never religious, but that day…I prayed to the Mother fervently. For your mother, for Aemma to have a smooth labour.” You smiled bitterly, “But it seemed, the gods had a different plan for your mother.”

Rhaenyra sniffled softly. “It feels refreshing to hear you talk about my mother,” she admits after a pause. “No one, not even Father, seems to want to talk about her. They always change the subject. It’s like her memory is something unpleasant. Something to be avoided..”

You took her hand, feeling as though you might cry yourself. “The subject is painful,” she continues, “But I don’t want to forget. I don’t want anyone to forget. I cannot bear for my mother to only be spoken about in riddles and hushed tones. I want to remember her…I just don’t understand why Father doesn’t seem to want to.”

Alicent glanced at the both of you, biting her lip softly. “When my mother died…my father and brother wanted to forget about her too. And admittedly, I did too.” You put your other hand on Alicent’s, and she smiled ruefully at you. “I hid my grief, trying to continue with my life with the same bravery my father and brother had…but I found myself unable to. So the sept is my refuge. It’s where I can express my grief without feeling like it’s something to be ashamed of.”

“Grieving is nothing to be ashamed of,” you told her gently, “Grief is what keeps the memory of a person alive, even if they’ve long passed. To remember what kind of person they were to you, and to honour how they made you who you were now. Grief does a service to our loved ones who have passed.”

Rhaenyra smiled bitterly, “I think Father needs to hear that.” You smiled at that, patting her hand softly, “Everyone grieves in their way, Rhaenyra. You might not see it, but I’m sure your father mourns your mother too, though it may be in a way different to yours.”

Rhaenyra pondered on that, turning her gaze back to the candles. “...mayhaps you’re right.” You squeezed her hand, and she squeezed it back. You turned to look at Alicent, and she grasped your hand tightly in hers, her expression warm. Though getting close to both of them was naught but a political machination initially…you found yourself growing to care more and more for these two girls everyday. So different we all are, you thought to yourself, yet so similar we are too. You turned back to the Mother, as you said one last prayer to her, “I hope…that the three of us can always be like this. That no matter what, when the world seems bleak…we can all be truthful with one another, and depend on each other.”

It has been six months, but you find that you are still unable to school your features into absolute indifference as you watch Viserys digging into his meal with a notable lack of enthusiasm.

Pursing your lips, you focused your attention back onto cutting into the veal on your plate. Ever since Aemma’s death, you had been hesitant in seeking out Viserys’ company voluntarily, despite Daemon having advised you to take the opportunity to get close to Viserys for protection. Out of all of Daemon’s advice you had reluctantly heeded, this one unsettled you the most. But as it turned out, you had not needed to make the first move. Viserys had (quite unfortunately) taken to summoning you to his apartments more oft than not in the past six months for meals, or even just for idle conversation. And the usual topic of conversation? The late wife that Viserys had cut open. You would find it funny if the topic itself did not constantly make you want to hurl something at Viserys. Viserys seemed determined to cling onto the vestiges of Aemma’s memory through you, Aemma’s cherished companion. Although after today’s conversation at the sept, you found it strange that Viserys seemed reluctant to broach the topic of Aemma with Rhaenyra, but with you, it was different. Why exactly was it so, you did not know, but…as long as it kept you at the Red Keep, then you would stomach as many conversations as Viserys wanted to have about Aemma.

Which was why you nearly dropped your fork when Viserys asked you if you knew about Daemon’s current occupation of Dragonstone. Clearing your throat, you deliberated on the reason for the sudden change of topic, but quickly answered, “It would be a miracle if someone had not heard about that.” Viserys chuckles, a rare deviation from his usual melancholic mood during your dinners. “As always, you are unfettered in your nature of speaking. I only wished more people would be like you.”

You were unsure on how to respond to that. Viserys sighed, “It would not be such a bother if it had been only Daemon on the island, but he had to take nearly half the City Watch with him as well. Does he truly desire to wage war against me, his own brother? With that meagre army of his?” You recalled Daemon’s words that fateful night, and bit your lip. So this was what he meant. You knew that with Daemon’s abscondence along the City Watch, King’s Landing had became more susceptible to looting, raping and other violent crimes. The Small Council was oft engaged in heavy debate as of late on how to tackle this problem, and that must have been Daemon’s plan all along. To sow chaos in King’s Landing. You sighed, cutting into your veal. Daemon…he may not look it, but there is always a certain calculative edge to his seemingly impulsive actions. The promise to make a point.

“I’ve half a mind to go to Dragonstone and confront him myself,” you snapped back to reality when you heard Viserys bang down his cutlery frustratedly. “If the Small Council had not dissuaded me otherwise, I would’ve done so.” You grimace, “Viserys, that would be unwise. You and I both know more than anyone of Daemon’s nature. He means to continue throwing this…tantrum so that he may garner your attention. You shouldn’t pay heed to his antics. Mayhaps he will come to his senses sooner or late.”

“Mayhaps is a strange word for never,” Viserys muttered, picking up his fork and knife again. You stifled a laugh by lifting another spoonful of soup to your lips. “Regardless, it would not be fitting for you to go to Dragonstone. What would the realm say, seeing their king having to go and plead with his brother to curb his foolishness? The dissenters will see it as weakness, as they did with Aenys and Maegor. You should listen to your advisors’ counsel, Viserys.” Viserys sighed, leaning back against his seat. “I suppose you’re right. However; this leaves me at a bind on what to do with him. Lord Corlys has been singing this wretched tune for nigh six months, and he will continue to do so if I do not act soon to put Daemon in his place.”

The two of you lapsed into silence. You picked at the remaining veal on your plate anxiously. “And other than the mounting pressure to deal with Daemon, the Small Council, in particular Lord Corlys, has also been pushing me on the subject of remarriage.” You froze. “...remarriage?” Your heart was pounding furiously, having not expected this sudden turn of events. You knew it would be expected of Viserys to do so, to secure the line of succession, but he always seemed so catatonic in grief over Aemma that you thought he would never take a second wife. Moreover, should his new wife sire him sons, Rhaenyra’s claim would surely be disputed by the lords of the realm. Viserys nodded wearily, “Lord Corlys has even nominated a candidate, his own daughter, Lady Laena.”

You wrinkled your nose, “Isn’t she naught but a girl of 12?” Viserys sighed, “Indeed. Much too young…though it seems not for Lord Corlys’ ambition.” You felt your appetite slip away at that. “And what do you think of this match?” Viserys smiles ruefully, “I was actually looking to hear your opinions. You always speak with unbridled truth, and it would do me good to hear from an unbiased perspective.”

You purse your lips, surprised. He was asking for your opinion an awful lot these days. “If you’re seeking counsel on the qualities of Lady Laena, I must confess I do not have a clearly formed opinion. But speaking from a political perspective…it would be an advantageous match for both houses. It would join both of your houses of Valyrian blood in one once more.” Viserys lets out a soft snort, “Advantageous? Lord Corlys and my cousin only proposed this match to put their own blood on the throne. They care not for the unity of our houses. Lord Corlys only wishes to see a king of Velaryon blood on the Iron Throne, and to correct the slight that Rhaenys faced at the Great Council.”

“Be that as it may,” you interjected, “You cannot deny it is a brilliant match. Is it not better to join the blood of the dragon in one single line again? This will prevent any more dragonriders from emerging from House Velaryon, and consolidate the power of House Targaryen in a single bloodline once more.” You were startled when Viserys suddenly let out a bark of laughter, “You know, you sound exactly like Daemon. With how the both of you are constantly stressing about the importance of retaining the power of House Targaryen.” You froze, feeling offended, but then the indignation fades away. It wasn’t entirely a bad thing, after all, Daemon was the person who had opened your eyes to the naivety that blinded you from seeing reason in your grief. Instead of feeling insulted, you felt like you should feel…proud? You shuddered, the thought of being proud thanks to sharing qualities with Daemon fucking Targaryen of all people being too much to bear.

Viserys lets out a slow exhale, looking regretful. “All this talk of remarriage sickens me,” Viserys mutters. “Because despite all this quibbling, nothing will ever come close to Aemma. I do not wish to replace her. I imagine she will be deeply upset at the thought of it.”

You frowned, holding back the urge to shout at Viserys why he had chosen to cut Aemma open if that were the case. But alas, the truth oft can never be expressed freely. You took several deep breaths, formulating a response in your head, as you spoke gently, “Remarriage may seem daunting, Viserys, but it is inevitable. It is your duty to the realm, and I’m sure Aemma will understand that.” Viserys sighs before laughing softly, “I suppose you’re right, Y/N. Duty is inescapable, especially when you’re a king. Very well, I shall arrange to see Lady Laena to discuss a possible betrothal as soon as possible.”

You did not know what to feel about that, happy? Aggrieved? Angry? “That reminds me,” Viserys spoke up, getting out of his seat and walking to you. You watched him curiously as he fumbled in his pockets to draw something out. “I…think that you should have this.” Your eyes widened when you saw that he was holding the ruby falcon necklace that Rhaenyra had gotten Aemma. “The Silent Sisters retrieved this from Aemma. I’ve held onto it for the past six months but,” Viserys smiled bitterly, “I felt like it would only be right for you to have this. Aemma was as dear to you as much as she was to me, and with my remarriage…I do not think it is right for me to hold on to it anymore.” You took the necklace gingerly and cradled it in your hands, feeling torn. Viserys put a hand on your shoulder gently, “Let this serve as not just a token of remembrance for Aemma…but also as one of gratitude. From me towards you for your counsel, steadfast loyalty, and friendship. I want you to know that despite how bereft I am over Aemma’s passing, I am thankful that you have continued to stay by my side.” Conflict consumed you as you looked up at your old friend. You thought you hated him for doing what he did to Aemma, but it seems your old friendship prevents you from detesting him completely. It was so difficult to completely hate someone who you've known your entire life, and has only looked out for you, despite his position of power.

You rested your hand atop his and smiled tentatively, “Thank you, Viserys. This gesture means a lot to me…and I want you to know that I am grateful for you too. I will always be by your side, no matter what” Viserys flashed you a genuine smile for what seemed like the first time in months, “Thank you, Y/N. Truly.”

Two weeks later, you were striding towards Viserys’ solar, a book in your hands, a smile on your face. Viserys and you had been discussing about the structure of a temple of a Valyrian deity for the past few days, and you were delighted when you found a book that contained descriptions of how temples of that particular deity were constructed in the empire of Yi Ti and the Old Empire of Ghis, immediately setting off to Viserys’ chambers to share it with him. You also remembered that today was the day that Viserys was due to walk with the Lady Laena to discuss the marriage pact between their houses. You had no doubt he would be feeling discouraged after that, and you hoped the book would lift his spirits.

You nodded at Ser Steffon Darklyn, who was standing guard outside the King’s solar, and bustled into the room like you did many times before. What you did not notice however, was the man’s panicked look as he remembered the King was busy with another visitor when you entered.

You swept into Viserys’ solar, a grin on your face, “Viserys, I found something of interest-'' But you nearly dropped the tome as you came to a dead halt, staring at the dismayed figures of both King Viserys and Lady Alicent - who were far too close together for your liking - in shock. A dead silence blanketed the room, before Viserys began appealing to you, “Y/N, this is not what it looks like-”

Suddenly, Ser Steffon’s voice came from the door, “Your Grace, the Hand is requesting for an audience.” Viserys sighed, looking between the door and your accusatory expression. “Let him in, Ser Steffon.”

The Hand entered the room, bowing to the King. He didn’t seem surprised to see Alicent here, you realised with growing indignation. Otto Hightower, that cunt, looked a little taken aback at your presence, however it was quickly smoothed over by his grim expression.

“Your Grace, I’ve called the Small Council to an emergency session. An incident has-”

“Can the matter wait?” Viserys demanded, walking over to you, but you backed away, unable to look him in the eye as you tightened your grip on the ancient tome. “I’m afraid not, Your Grace. There has been a problem,” Otto paused, eyeing you and Alicent, clearly unsure whether he should say it in front of the both of you. “At Dragonstone.”

Daemon, your heart thudded in your chest. What did he do now?

“Gods be good,” Viserys muttered. “I understand. I will be there shortly. I have a pressing matter at hand.” With that, Viserys turned to you, his expression becoming sombre as he murmured, “I think I owe you an explanation.”

“You don’t,” you whisper, a betrayed look on your face. “You owe one to Lady Laena. To Rhaenyra. To Aemma.”

Viserys sighed, suddenly looking like he aged five years in an instant. You were aware of the Hand’s heavy gaze upon you and Viserys, as well as Alicent’s anxious one. “I swear to the Seven that it is not what it looks like, Y/N.”

“Then pray tell, whatever good reason can there be for this…gathering?” you whispered harshly. “This does not seem like a one-off incident, am I right?”

“It is true this was not…a first occurrence,” Viserys looked nervously at Alicent, who was picking at her fingernails again. He placed a hand on your shoulder, causing you to flinch. A sadness dawned in his eyes at your reaction, “I…I will explain it all to you later. But I need you to swear to me that you will not tell Rhaenyra. I’m afraid she will misunderstand-”

“Your Grace,” Otto speaks up, causing the both of you to turn your gazes to him. You felt queasy when you saw the intrigued look in his eyes. “I’m afraid your conversation will have to wait. This matter is truly urgent.” Viserys sighed, looking at you pleadingly, “Please, Y/N. I promise, I will tell you everything later. Just…help me keep this secret, just once, alright?” You couldn’t do anything but press your lips into a thin line. Seeing there was no use begging you anymore, Viserys only lowered his head shamefully, patting your shoulder before leaving the room. Otto gave you and Alicent one last look, one that you returned with a glare, before he inclined his head and turned to follow the King.

As the door closed, you and Alicent stood there, an uncomfortable silence blanketing the room. You were the first to break it, “How long has this been going on?”

Alicent cast her eyes downward, “Nigh six months, my lady.” Her voice was quiet, timid. You crossed over the room to her, arms crossed in disapproval. “Your father ordered you to do so, didn’t he?” “...yes,” Alicent whispered tearfully. Your heart twists. As angry as you were, it was not directed to Alicent, but to Viserys, and the Hand. For once, you finally understood Daemon’s intense dislike of the Hand, and how appropriate it had been when he called him a leech. ‘Yet again, Daemon is proven correct,’ the bittersweet thought caused your lips to quirk upward. ‘Who knew he was such a patron of wisdom.’ You were silent as you let your thoughts deliberate the information you just learnt, before you spoke up once more.

“Speak truthfully with me,,” your voice was firm, demanding, “Does the King intend to take you as a bride, instead of Lady Laena?” Alicent was silent for a moment, before she spoke in a trembling whisper, “It would appear so.”

You massaged your temples. Gods be good. “And is that what you desire?” Alicent hesitates, looking torn. “It would be a great honour,” she murmurs, although her voice was lacking in conviction. “It would mean I would be Queen. There is no greater way to bring honour to House Hightower.” You waved your hand in the air dismissively, “Aside from honour, I’m asking you if this is what you want. And do not tell me that it is, just because your father or your House wills it. What I want to hear is if you, Alicent Hightower, want this marriage.” You lowered your voice, demand turning into solemnity, “The path of marriage…it is no easy one, Alicent. And you are still young, there is much of life you have not yet experienced.” You took a deep breath, voice shaking slightly, “You saw…what happened to the late Queen. The pressure to produce an heir…and eventually, she gave her life for it. Is this the sort of life you want to resign yourself to?”

Alicent bit her lip, a tear trickling down her face. “I do not have a choice, do I?” You were aghast, “Of course, you have a choice. Everybody can dictate their life the way they choose. You need not resign yourself to the will of others. That is no way to live, Alicent.”

Alicent gives you a bitter smile, still not meeting your eyes. “It is fortunate that you have the liberty to think so, my lady. But it is a concept I am unfamiliar with, and one that I can never grow to fully experience.” You wanted to protest, but you kept silence as you watched Alicent blink back tears, “I’ve learnt from a young age…the inevitability of duty. Run as you may, in the end, this freedom you speak of…it can never be ours. Everyone has a role to play in life, and the women are expected to play it exceptionally well. Noblewomen especially. We were born in this life to serve our fathers, our lords, our husbands, our houses. The thought of freedom is wonderful yes, but you soon realise, it slips through your fingers slowly, until all that is left is duty. Since duty is inescapable, no matter how reluctant I may be, I have learnt that accepting it earlier will cause me less hurt, instead of thinking foolish thoughts.” She finally meets your gaze, eyes filled with solemn determination. “Thank you for your concern, my lady. But this is a choice I have made. You would not change my mind, and I suspect I will not change yours. However, I hope you will respect my opinions on the matter.”

You face was impassive, but your eyes were filled with sorrow. How wise she was for a girl so young. And how crushing the weight of knowledge can be. You continued to say nothing, instead gently prying apart Alicent’s clenched fingers, examining the wounds on her fingernails. “Come, let me help you put some ointment on them. I got some from the Maesters after the tourney.”

Your mind was in a haze as you departed the King’s solar. Alicent’s words struck a deep chord in you. You always assumed that everyone would want the choice to pursue the life their heart desires, regardless of their sex, but you never stopped to consider the people who didn’t have the chance to. You had flouted the idea of duty for years, despising it, but seeing Alicent, who willingly embraced the burden of it…it made you feel ashamed.

Consumed with your thoughts, you didn’t notice a hurried figure approaching until you both collided, nearly knocking each other to the ground. The other person grabbed you to steady you before you fell. Your eyes widened with shock at the guilty figure in front of you. “Rhaenyra?” The princess shushed you, pulling you to a dark corner. “What are you doing?” you whisper furiously, upon noticing her dressed in her dragonriding gear. “Are you sneaking out? At this hour?”

Rhaenyra was bouncing on her heels impatiently, looking like she might take flight herself at any moment. “To Dragonstone. Daemon has stolen my brother’s egg, he intends to gift it to his mistress’ bastard child.” You were startled, and outraged at that. He would go to such great lengths just to get his brother’s attention? Sometimes you wonder if being a cunt was just in Daemon’s nature. “Please help me keep it a secret, Y/N,” Rhaenyra implored. If it weren’t for you gripping onto Rhaenyra’s forearms, you suspect she would have fled a long time ago. “Father shot me down when I suggested I fly there to retrieve the egg, and sent the Hand instead, but I have to go get it. It was my brother’s egg, I picked it out personally, Daemon has no right-” she struggled to find the words amidst her anger.

“I understand, go. I won’t tell a soul.” Rhaenyra looked at you with wide eyes. “Are you…serious?” You nodded, letting go of her. “I think you will be able to get through to Daemon. I believe in you. Now go, before your uncle decides to take the Hand’s head off with a sword and cause a war between House Hightower and House Targaryen.” Rhaenyra laughs, before unexpectedly pulling you into a hug. “Y/N…thank you. It feels nice to know that you have faith in me” You were startled, but you hugged her back, and patted her hair soothingly, a gesture you’ve seen Aemma do with Rhaenyra. “You’re more capable than you think, Rhaenyra. Now go,” you pulled away, eyes fixed with hers. “And make Aemma proud, Rhaenyra.” Rhaenyra nodded, a fierce look coming into her eyes. She shot you a brief smile before looking around furtively to make sure that no prying eyes were here to witness her escape, before sprinting away to the stables. You watched her go, biting your lip. Your conversation with Viserys and Alicent crossed your mind, and you felt a little regretful that you didn’t manage to tell Rhaenyra. But Viserys had begged you, and you couldn’t find it in your heart to say anything. You turned away, walking to the godswood, intent for some air. You had a feeling in your gut that sooner or late, all these secrets would culminate in an unpleasant ending.

Your words were proven true enough a few days later. You were reading a book in your chambers, when Rhaenyra burst into your room, nearly giving you a heart attack. You were ready to reprimand her, but one look at her furious, betrayed face, and you already knew. “He-” Rhaenyra bit out, “My father just announced he’s taking a new bride. Alicent.”

You leaned back in your seat, your heart sinking. So Viserys had gone with it after all. You felt disappointment dawning on you, as well as guilt as you watched Rhaenyra pace around the room frustratedly. “I just don’t understand, how? He was going to marry Lady Laena, he swore it to me yesterday, when did he even get acquainted with Alicent?” Rhaenyra swung back to face you again, but she froze when she caught sight of your guilty expression. “Seven hells,” she breathed out, “You knew?” You closed your book, standing up, “I did, but I didn’t expect-” Rhaenyra let out a sharp bark of laughter. “Save it, Y/N. I do not wish to hear it now. I thought I could trust you.” “Rhaenyra-” you beseeched, but she had already turned her heel and left, slamming the chamber door shut behind her. You sunk back down in your seat, your heart pounding. By the gods, what a mess.

Your chamber was once more the recipient of another visitor, though it might not have been the one you hoped for. “Rhaenyra?” you called out hopefully, only to be surprised when the timid form of Alicent appeared instead. Her eyes were rimmed with red, and you noticed fresh wounds on her nails once again. “Alicent…” you walked towards her, taking her hands in yours. Alicent began to cry then, and you drew her into your embrace, closing your eyes as you felt Alicent’s tears staining the front of your gown.

A while later, you had seated Alicent on your bed, observing her as she cradled in her hand the cup of tea a servant had fetched for her. “I thought I knew how heavy this burden was,” she spoke, her voice barely a whisper as she looked despondently into her cup. “But I wasn’t expecting it to feel so painful.” You chewed your lip, as you focused on applying the ointment to the fresh wounds on her left hand. “I thought I was prepared, but I did not realise this would mean I would lose Rhaenyra.”

Your heart was pounding as well, though not for the same reasons as Alicent. Rhaenyra’s backlash towards this announcement didn’t just signal an end to her ties with Alicent, but also with you. You remembered vividly how betrayed she had looked when she came to realise that you had known, and you had not told her. There was no coming back from that. Apart from your guilt however, you also felt a steady sense of despair building up in you. You had spent the past six months relying on the favour of Rhaenyra to prevent your expulsion from court and back home, how was that to go about now?

“Oftentimes, life changes in ways we cannot anticipate,” you began quietly, trying to think of your next steps. “But it is best not to dwell on it, to move on and adapt.” Alicent looked distraught at that, but she kept silent, save for the tear trailing down her cheek. You finished applying the ointment to Alicent’s left hand, moving onto her right hand. Suddenly, an idea struck you. “Alicent, I know this is a bit sudden,” you said gingerly, “But if I may…I would like to request to serve you as your lady-in-waiting.” Alicent looked surprised, though there was no anger in her expression, much to your relief. You were worried that you might have overstepped, but Alicent only put down her cup of tea and squeezed your hand, “I would be honoured to have you as my lady-in-waiting, Y/N.”

You had to refrain from sighing with relief, pleased that your gamble had worked out. You were banking on your close ties with Alicent now, and a queen’s power was surely more reliable than a princess’. At least, good enough to keep you at the Red Keep. Once again, you felt guilty for using Alicent this way, but it was not out of malicious intent either: you truly did care for Alicent like a daughter, much like you had with Rhaenyra. Besides…you realised that Alicent’s current predicament was much like that of your worst nightmares. The realisation left a bitter taste on your tongue. Alicent was everything you vowed you would never end up being, and watching all this unfold in front of you while you were powerless to stop it - it felt gut-wrenching.

“Y/N,” Alicent’s soft voice snapped you out of your reality. You looked at her questioningly, seeing hesitation in her eyes. “If I may ask…why did the King never choose to marry you?” You felt an initial urge to cringe, but then you realised it was a valid question, and a good one at that. “The King clearly cares for you, and values you greatly. And not to mention, you are the sole heir to Highgarden,” Alicent looked unsure, “It would be a prudent decision to marry you, a brilliant match, even. Far eclipsing the advantages of a union with the daughter of the Hand of the King. Why has the King never considered that?”

You fell silent, deep in thought. The points she made were excellent, and even though you felt discomfited by it, you were curious to know as well. In the end, you could only reply, “I do not know, Alicent.”

“Your Grace,” you greeted stiffly, curtsying to Viserys, much to his distress. He reached out to you, trying to help you up, but you only stepped away. The hurt on his face almost made you feel guilty for your coldness, but you couldn’t stand to look at him right now. If it hadn’t been for him summoning you to his solar, you would’ve continued giving him the cold shoulder.

Viserys sighed, giving up as he turned towards his model of the Old Valyria. His next question made you raise your eyebrows incredulously. “How is Rhaenyra coping with the news?” Unease grew in you, “Shouldn’t you be asking about Alicent instead, Your Grace?” Viserys grimaced at your use of formalities. “Alicent seems perfectly content, does she not? It is Rhaenyra whom I should be concerned about now.”

You frowned, “It is quite the opposite, actually. Rhaenyra is angry, but I’m sure she will calm down sooner or late.” Viserys seems assuaged by that, retreating to take a seat at the armchairs before the fireplace. “I am thankful to hear that.” You took a seat next to him, levelling a hard glare at him. “And what of Alicent?” Viserys looked surprised, “What of her?” “She seems distraught over this match.” Viserys furrowed his brows, “This union brings her more benefit than it does me, what does she have to be distraught about? She will be Queen.” You finally exploded, “And so?” you demanded, rising up from your seat. “It is clear that she is unhappy with this match. She came to me crying today, Viserys. She’s frightened by the prospect of this marriage. And it is clear that she is being used as a political pawn in her father’s games. How can you say she will not be distraught by this?” You half expected Viserys to get up and order you to leave, but he only sighed and washed a hand over his face. “Y/N,” he began slowly, gesturing for you to sit down. You refused, staring at him with defiant eyes. He sighed, sometimes you reminded him so much of Daemon that it was a wonder you were not a Targaryen yourself. That stubborn persistence and fiery temper…

“Alicent may be unhappy now, but I did not force her into this match.” He sighed again at your disbelieving expression, “Think of it this way, if she had vehemently opposed this match, she wouldn't have willingly visited my chambers every night without fail for the past six months. It was a scheme engineered by Otto, that I can see, but even so, Alicent wanted this. If she had been unwilling, she wouldn’t have taken the initiative to get closer to me, to indulge me in my interests.”

You were still frowning, but you slowly lowered yourself back into your seat. You didn’t want to believe in Viserys’ words, but he had no reason to lie. “Ambition is a fickle thing, Y/N,” Viserys turned his gaze to the fire. “Some men choose to deny it, to preserve the illusion of their humility. But the truth is, every man is akin to a starving man when he sees a banquet when it comes to power. Do not underestimate the temptation of power, Y/N. Many men claim they do not desire it, but no one can resist it. Alicent is no different. She may feel uncomfortable with this match at first, but there is a small sliver of her that covets this position, and the power she can wield with it.”

You chose to say nothing, but you tightened your grip on your armrests as Viserys spoke. Viserys sighed, turning his gaze back to you. “I have to be frank with you…my ideal match when I first heard the topic of remarriage being brought up, was you, Y/N.” You finally met his gaze again, mouth agape. “What?”

Viserys nodded wearily, “It would’ve seemed natural. After all, we grew up together, and you are one of the people I hold dearest to my heart. I would have been happy to take you as my wife.” Your stomach began to churn. “But, I knew…with your temperament, you would never be happy in this marriage with me.” Viserys smiled ruefully at you, “I knew Aemma would have never wanted me to trap you in an unhappy marriage, and I don’t either.”

“But you’re alright with trapping Alicent in an unhappy marriage instead?” you snapped. Viserys looked resigned, recognising that he would not be able to get through to you. “Alicent’s…distress over this match would fade sooner or late. Furthermore, I genuinely do care for Alicent’s wellbeing, and I will see to it she lacks for nothing as my queen.” “Material possessions do not equate to happiness, Viserys,” you said angrily. Viserys finally slams down his hand on his armrest, shocking you into silence. It was in rare moments like this where you are reminded that Viserys was still of the blood of the dragon, and that he was still your king. You grimaced, realising you might have spoken too carelessly.

“What would you have me do then, Y/N?” Viserys blustered angrily, “Do you think getting remarried brings me joy? Every time I think about it, the thought sends me into a spiral of despair. That I would have to take a new wife, sire new heirs, with someone whom I might not love. Alicent may not be Aemma, but I care for her a great deal, and I will not have you deny it.” Viserys sinks back into his seat, his rage slowly turning back into that resigned, mournful look you’ve seen him wear so much lately. His voice cracked a little as he spoke, “I’m just…so tired, Y/N. You are my closest confidant, and even you can’t seem to understand how I feel, what I’m going through. After Aemma, I find myself losing the will to go through my days more and more with each passing day. It feels like my life has been drained out of me. I never liked partaking in the intrigues of court either, and without Aemma, it has only grown harder to bear. Alicent lessened the burden of grief on my shoulders. When I was with her, it felt like I could just…be. No kingly duties, no responsibilities, no Small Council on my back, nitpicking my every move, scheming to consolidate power. She made me feel like I was just Viserys, a feeling I only experienced with you, Aemma, and Daemon.”

“...you really do care for her then?” you asked quietly. Viserys nods, looking earnest. “I do. Trust me, Y/N, I would not do anything to cause her unhappiness. And I believe as time passes, I will grow to feel love for her.” You played with your fingers uncomfortably, not knowing what to make of this conversation. Your insight into Viserys’ thoughts only sowed more conflict into your already torn feelings towards him, and you didn’t know what the right thing was to do anymore. The two of you stared into the roaring fire, as the solar was enveloped in a thick blanket of tense, pensive silence.

On Driftmark, there was silence as well. But this silence felt more taut, more dangerous, like a provoked beast who was readying to strike.

At least that’s what Daemon Targaryen thought as he took a swig of Arbor Gold from his goblet, taking in his surroundings. The Velaryons had a strange taste for decor, which he assumed was an acquired taste.

Lord Corlys sat from across him, a surly expression on his face as he spoke. Daemon couldn’t find it in him to pay attention to the man’s incessant complaints. His mind kept wandering back, much to his frustration, to his conversation with Mysaria a few days ago. Her words, her caution, her fear…so unlike a certain someone he knew.

His mind couldn’t help but chase thoughts of her wellbeing. Had she heeded his advice? Had he gotten through to her, even with her stubborn insistence? Surely she must know that he only wished for the best for her. She was like family to him after all.

Lord Corlys clears his throat, and Daemon slid his focus back to him, a bored look on his face. “You are aware the King has taken Alicent Hightower to wed?” Lord Corlys asks, a shifty look that Daemon couldn’t quite place filling his eyes. Daemon shot him an irate look. It was hard not to know, particularly since this matter was what led him to be sitting in this exact chair, listening to Lord Corlys blather about angrily.

“I heard that the Hightower girl has announced Lady Y/N as her chief lady-in-waiting.” This snapped Daemon back to attention. He took another sip of his wine to hide his smirk, ‘So she is cleverer than I gave her credit for.’

“I don’t see how that relates to why you asked me here, Lord Corlys,” Daemon’s voice was annoyed. Lord Corlys’ expression turned sly, “In all honesty, I had expected that the King might have taken Lady Y/N to be his bride instead. He gave off the impression he might.” Daemon’s eyebrows shot to his forehead, and he nearly choked on his wine. “I can assure you, Lady Y/N would never let that happen,” Daemon told Lord Corlys, voice dripping with amusement. “But he is the King. It is quite impossible to refuse an order from the King. And besides,” Lord Corlys’ lips quirked upwards, “I have heard that Lady Y/N is rather fond of your brother herself. She has been dining with him each night since Queen Aemma’s passing.”

Daemon tried to keep his expression impassive, but his grip on his goblet tightened. The thought of his brother taking Y/N to wed…it sent an odd, visceral feeling through him. Something that was akin to possessiveness and…jealousy? Mayhaps he was drunk. There was simply no way. No way at all.

Lord Corlys smirked, the Prince’s dark expression told him that he had been successful in inciting some anger in the Prince against the King. Which was exactly all he needed. And soon enough, it was official: Daemon Targaryen had just agreed to wage war on the Stepstones.

Taglist: @drwho-ess @graniairish @urmomsgirlfriend1 @thelittleswanao3 @animelover18 @llovinjoonie @gracielikegrapes @salembridger @itszzmoon @kmmg98 @travelingmypassion @zae5 @norestfortheshelbywicked @soleilgrec @anehkael

Daemon General Taglist: @aiyaiy @kmmg98 @norestfortheshelbywicked

those who are bolded are those who couldn’t be tagged! let me know if you wish to be added to the taglist in the comments or through this form!

A/N: so if you made this far, bless you. This was a very long chapter, so hats off to you for finishing it 💗 the next chapter will be much shorter, I promise, although it might take longer because i’m going on a short trip. hopefully i can get it done by next wednesday!

as always, if you loved this chapter, comments and reblogs are highly appreciated! thank you for your support 💗

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citrus-moonlight · 5 months

Text

Danger Starts the Sharp Incline

Fandom: MCU - Age of Ultron, Black Panther Pairing: Demon!Klaue x Fem Scientist Reader Chapters: 1 of 1 Word count: 4.5K Rating: Explicit

Summary: At your scientific organization the study of demon energy output has become no less mundane than it would at any other research facility. That is until you find yourself trapped with the demon who has recently shifted in your thoughts from an idle curiosity to a distraction.

Warnings: Explicit Rating!, No Age Specified, PWP, One Shot, Smut, Let Me Be Clear: This Is Absolute Filth, Monster Fucking, Demon Fucking, Could be viewed as Dubcon, Implied Mind Manipulation, But to be clear reader is Into It, Pet Names, Touch Starved Demon, Oral Sex (Fem Receiving), Vaginal Fingering, Big Hands I Know You're the One, Unprotected PIV, Size Kink, Squirting, A Lot of Demon Cum, Like A Lot, Cum Marking, Creampie, Breeding Kink, Multiple Orgasms (both), Overstimulation, Possessiveness

A/N: Once again, this was supposed to be a quick little smutty thing that ended up getting very, very away from me. This honestly could have been even longer (it was over 5.5k and counting at one point!), but I managed to reign myself in, lol. I almost feel like I have enough for a part two, so who knows, perhaps I'll revisit this AU one day in the future!

This was inspired by the first bit of this absolutely incredible demon/scientist blurb* by @biscuitdragonwithastick, which you should definitely read first (thank you for the ok to go ahead with this!). It fully dug its claws (pun intended?) into my brain and refused let me go. I couldn't stop thinking about a Demon!Klaue AU, and thanks to some lovely encouragement, this is the result!

Please, please mind the tags, my dears, and thank you for reading!

*Demon's name has been changed here to fit the AU

Dividers by the lovely @saradika-graphics ❤️

Work title is from "All Mine" by Portishead

AO3 Link

Make no mistake You shan't escape Tethered and tied There's nowhere to hide from me All mine You have to be

Klaw’s reaction continues to be noted by the higher-ups, and eventually it’s decided that they want to conduct an experiment, using you.

The next time you’re scheduled on the cleaning rotation they want to take the opportunity to determine if there’s a measurable difference in output and chemical composition - before and after you’ve been in the room with him.

“Just consider what it might mean to the future of energy research”, they’d said. “It could lead to the discovery of a demon-sensitive pheromone additive that boosts energy output across the board.”

Although you flush at the outward acknowledgement of what’s been happening, you can’t deny that it intrigues you.

Especially since you had started dreaming about him.

Since you’d stopped being able to control how wet you got when you observed him.

Since the self-consciousness you’d felt at the sidelong glances of your colleagues had started feeling like something else.

Something like pride.

* * * * * *

Two days later you’re scheduled for the night shift alone, with not much else to do but make the occasional note in the shift log and wait for the alarm that indicates the mare’s collection tank is full. So you wait.

And watch.

For the first time you have a chance to really just look at him, and you’re finding it difficult to pay attention to the instruments that you should be monitoring. Your eyes instead are continually drawn back to the observation window and the thick mop of black curls that falls across his forehead where his horns emerge, sharp features are framed by the scruff of a dark beard, and an intriguing mix of tattoos, brands and scars play across the planes and curves of his body.

Although his muscles aren’t as chiseled as many of the demons you've observed in this facility his shoulders and arms are thick, and you unconsciously lick your lips as your eyes follow the dark hair that covers his broad chest and abdomen down to where it meets the wiry hair at the base of his cock.

A slick warmth has been slowly pooling between your thighs since you settled into your chair at the beginning of the shift, but as you watch the bored pumping of his hips fall into a smoother, swaying rhythm, that warmth ignites.

Widening his stance, hooved feet brace on the floor as he pulls out further before thrusting back in, letting you watch his cock slide slowly back into the machine’s opening, burying himself with a jutting roll of his hips, over and over. Almost teasing.

Almost taunting.

This could be you.

It’s only when Klaw drags his hands along the metal “body” of the mare that you notice it: The claws of the first three fingers of his right hand seem to be…gone?

With a flicker of concern you flip a switch on the console, using the camera to zoom in.

Ok, no, they’re not gone per se, but they’re definitely shorter, nearly down to the quick. Was it an accident? Did they break in a fervor as he fucked the contraption?

Frowning at the screen your mind turns over the possibilities, but before you can think to add the peculiarity to your notes your thoughts fizzle away when you glance back up to the observation window and see that he’s watching you.

As soon as your eyes meet his the tease in his movements falls away and he’s bottoming out hard against the opening in a rough, stuttered rhythm as his eyes cloud over, and you know from past observation that he’s nearing the edge.

Your inner muscles clench and the ache that’s been building since you walked in here swells and overlaps with a flaring jealousy when Klaw shudders and growls, filling the receptacle with another thick load of his seed.

You don’t even realize that you stood up until you feel the cool glass of the observation window beneath your palms, your breath fogging the surface as you press yourself against the barrier.

There’s still a slow, uneven cadence to the demon’s thrusts following his climax, but his gaze swiftly sharpens on you again when one of your hands drifts idly across your stomach, then lower, fingers brushing over the top button of your pants-

-and then you jump when a shrill sound interrupts you, nearly growling at the surge of frustration.

The alarm is piercing and incessant and won’t stop until you enter the demon’s room, so you return to the control panel to activate the sigil that will keep him contained while you clean and recalibrate the machine - tests having shown that a laser projection of the correct wavelength of light is just as effective as a physical binding.

Once you’re through the airlock you quickly set to working through the checklist, unhooking the mechanism that feeds into tanks in the floor and connecting it to a fresh one. You move on to cleaning the unfeeling hole that the demon fucks into day in and day out, your breath going shallow at the jealousy that continues to singe your nerves.

His gaze stays entirely focused on you as you move around, cock swaying heavily in front of broad thighs - still hard, always hard - the still leaking head so dark it’s nearly purple.

The slick between your thighs has only increased since you started to work, fairly certain that you’ve soaked through your panties at this point, and when you have to pass closer to his “cage” he leans forward, nearly pressing himself against the barrier as he follows your path.

Inhaling deeply his cock twitches, more cum dripping from the tip as he ruts at the air, and you can't help but wonder if he’s picking up your frustrated arousal.

“Hurry up.” you chide yourself. “Stop getting distracted. Just finish your shit and get out.”

Kneeling down behind the machine you open the access panel and flip through the menus until you find the one that will complete the calibration, and while you’re focused on watching it cycle you don’t notice the outer door open from the hall into the observation room.

The intern who enters must not see you where you’re kneeling on the floor, and evidently thinking that the trap has been left on in error he flips the switch to deactivate it.

When the light from the beaming sigil goes dark you pop up in alarm, the face of the intern frozen in an almost comedic grimace of horror when he finally registers that you’re staring back at him from the wrong side of the glass.

The man reaches for the switch again but Klaw’s reflexes are faster, and before the trap can be reactivated the demon rushes the door. Slamming his shoulder against it he jams it so thoroughly they'll need to bring in special equipment to get it open again, but at this time of night it'll be hours, if you’re lucky, before a crew gets here.

Then he rounds on you.

With an oddly warm sense of detachment you think that you should feel fear as you watch the slow grin spread across his face, but the only thing you feel is a surge of hot, aching desire.

He rumbles something you don’t understand, though the rough texture of his words is still intoxicating, and before you realize what you’re doing you’re walking towards him, pulling your shirt over your head as you move.

Because right now you find that you want - need - to bare yourself for him, the sensation of it intense that your skin feels like it’s going to scald if you don’t get your clothes off now, and your shoes, pants and underwear quickly join the discarded pile on the floor.

Stopping in front of him you reach back to unclasp your bra, but your arms pause mid-way when Klaw’s hand reaches out, your breath hitching when he hooks a large, clawed finger beneath your chin, tilting your head up so that your eyes meet his.

You’d always assumed that his eyes were black, but this close you realize that they’re actually an impossibly deep blue, a blue that only resides along the penumbra of light and shadow where the last rays of sun reach into the depths of the ocean

You stand mesmerized as his hand dips lower, leaving behind a trail of gooseflesh as a claw trails gently down the delicate skin of your neck and chest, and then with a flick of his wrist the last scrap of fabric covering you gives way, exposing your breasts to the cool air.

You’ve barely shrugged off the ruined garment when suddenly you’re being picked up - so, so easily - and placed on a table, swiftly reminded of how much larger and stronger he is than you, and once again dimly aware that you should feel fear, or dread, or some instinct telling you to run.

Not of the shiver of anticipation that leaves your breath hitching in your chest.

Definitely not the wild need blooming in your core as sharp teeth ghost along the place where your blood thrums, his breath hot and his skin hotter.

His mouth continues its path downward, pausing to lick at the soft swell of your breasts, taking a moment to pull and pluck at your nipples with his lips. A pleased growl vibrates against your skin when you lean back onto your hands with a moan, arching into the swirl of his tongue around your pebbled flesh.

It’s not long, though, before he can no longer ignore the way this increases the heated musk between your thighs, leaving behind a wet trail of saliva as his mouth travels down, seeking the place where you’re already dripping for him.

The demon's hands nearly wrap entirely around your thighs yet his touch is almost cautious as he presses you open, mesmerized by the way you unfold for him like the petals of a flower, slick and shining.

HIs eyes are heavy lidded as thick fingers begin to tease through your folds, toying with your clit, surprising you with how softly he rolls it between thumb and forefinger, a grin curving the corner of his mouth when your hips buck into his touch.

Noting your reaction he repeats the motion, gently pinching and rolling the sensitive bud until your mouth drops open and your breath is coming in sharp gasps, his dark eyes staying fixed between your legs as thick fingers coax a warm, honeyed orgasm from you, leaving you keening and startled by the slow intensity of it.

You’ve barely caught your breath when you feel his mouth suddenly envelop your mound, lapping eagerly at your release as you whine and writhe beneath his tongue, overwhelmed at the stimulation.

It’s too much, all of this is too much, but as he continues licking and suckling at your sensitive flesh you find that you’re no longer fighting it, the hum of bliss that hadn’t yet faded already building to a fresh swell, and when his lips capture your clit with a sudden fluttering pressure your body stiffens as your second orgasm flares through you, sharper and brighter than the first.

When he finally releases you he speaks again, but through the haze of afterglow it takes a moment for it to register that this time you think that you understand him, the word seeming to appear within your mind at the same time that you hear it from his glistening lips.

“Sweet.”

With a start you look down at him and he pauses, head tilting, curiosity knitting his heavy brows.

Not moving his eyes from yours, his voice is a low, tentative purr when he speaks again.

“Would your sweet cunt like..more?”

Holy fuck. You can understand him.

Your thoughts spin as the shock works its way through you, the analytical part of your mind attempting to parse what the fuck is happening. Is it the increased time in his proximity? The physical contact? Whatever the mechanism, you can suddenly hear- or perhaps more accurately feel - his words, somewhere deep in your conscience.

A firm nod, then, in answer to his question, a responding pull of his lips into a slow, pleased grin.

Dipping his head Klaw licks a broad, wet stripe up your cleft, and then he’s devouring you, slavering hungrily against your sex, drool mixing with your arousal as his lips and tongue work your aching bundle of nerves until you’re gasping shallow breaths, every muscle strung taught as you hover on the edge once more.

Seeking for an anchor your hands find his curved horns, warm and leathery beneath your scrabbling fingers, and then with a rasping cry you’re coming in long, surging waves, your entire body trembling as your hips chase every flutter of pleasure on the tip of his tongue.

Dimly you think that he must be satisfied now, that you must be satisfied, yet it seems as though with every climax you only hunger more intensely for the next.

Once your hands release his horns and fall limp at your sides Klaw straightens up, and then wrapping his hand around his cock he starts roughly stroking himself.

Almost without thinking your legs fall open, shaky arms pulling your knees back to expose yourself to him, knowing he can see how your soaked cunt still clenches through the last waves of your orgasm, and it’s only a few more strokes before he’s coming with a rough jerk of his hips and you gasp at the heat, thick ropes of cum streaking across your slick folds and the insides of your thighs.

Still breathing hard, the pumping of his fist gradually slows, a hand drifting along the curve of your inner thigh as his focus comes back to you. Gathering some of the sticky mess he left between your legs he drags it through your folds, and then suddenly a thick finger is sliding into you.

Even as you gasp at the intrusion you begin to understand that he had actually done it on purpose: Biting down those claws himself because, it seems, he had been thinking about this.

The realization that it was for you leaves your entire body humming, and as your hips cant up to meet the slow, almost teasing thrusts, there’s only one word that swells and ripens in your mind, uncertain whether it’s your word or his even as it falls from your lips.

“More.”

A knowing glint flashes in his eyes at your soft plea, and almost immediately you feel a second finger slipping against you. Just teasing his fingertips at your entrance at first he lets your juices slick them before pressing into you, both fingers together nearly as thick as a human cock.

You moan as he continues to slide them in and out of you, and just as you begin to sink into the ache of it, you moan low in your throat when suddenly he’s adding a third.

The heady pressure of him working three fingers into your already stretched hole is overwhelming, and you’re unsure whether you want to throw yourself towards the sensation or resist it, your body arching into him, yet tensing and pulling away at the same time.

But then he’s pressing you down onto the table, his hand nearly spanning the width of your chest to hold you in place as his fingers continue nudging deeper.

“Where are you going, little one? Going to have to take it if you want my cock."

As if to emphasize his words he drags his erection against the inside of your thigh with a grunted sigh, a fresh streak of precum adding to the mess that he’s already left on you.

Because of course you do, and he knows it, has known it since you stopped being able to look away from his hunched form as he fucked into his mechanical mate, a warm curiosity growing into a distracting need.

And you know that he could have taken you at any time, could have forced himself into you as soon as your clothes were a forgotten pile on the floor. But instead, he’s been preparing you to take him properly, making you come until the only thing you know is his mouth and his fingers and you’re soft and trembling and ravenous.

“God yes.” You spread your legs wide again, giving him an obscene view of where his fingers are sinking into you, slick sounds filling the room as they pump faster now.

“There you go.” He croons above you. “Made for this, hmm?"

Any attempt at a response trails into a choked cry when he finds that soft, needy spot deep inside you, a fresh, pulsing heat spreading through your already exhausted body as he takes you apart once more. Still pinned beneath his hand you’re unable to do anything but allow it to wash through you, shaking and whimpering as he continues to drag firm, curling strokes against your clenching walls.

Leaning down Klaw presses his face into your heaving chest, and your nipples tighten and ache as he licks languorously between your breasts, his huffed breath is hot against your skin.

As your senses filter back in your hands slowly begin to move, exploring the corded muscles of his neck and shoulders, trembling fingers tugging and sliding through his hair, and then up and over his horns again.

Letting your eyes slip closed you take in the ridged curve of them, a velvety pleasure blooming in your chest when he inhales sharply, cock throbbing against your thigh when your fingers wrap around the base of them.

Finally pulling his fingers out of you he tugs you up, turning around and repositioning you so that you’re straddling his broad hips as best you can. Strong hands support you, encouraging you to slide your slick folds along his shaft, a giddy sort of panic stuttering in your chest at the sudden awareness of the size of him where he twitches between your thighs.

Desperate whines that may as well be prayers slide from your throat when he lifts you higher and you feel the thick, bulbous head of his cock nudging against your entrance, the only words falling from your lips a whispered litany of “Oh my god oh my god oh my god."

“I’m not your God, little one,” he growls softly, words distorted as if you're hearing them through a sediment of granite and blood. "But you will worship me."

“Yes. Yes..Oh fuck, please.”

Beneath your lilting plea you dimly hear gritted curses and words of encouragement as you circle your hips, your arousal making a slick mess of his cock.

You can't help how eagerly your hips rock down, seeking more, so lost in the sensations that you're unprepared when a hard press of your hips matches his upward thrust, and the thick head of his cock suddenly ruts up into you, and when he slips past the tight ring of muscle the feral sound from deep in your chest nearly matches his.

Panting open mouthed you hold him there before rising up, slowly, slowly, letting him slip out of you before sinking down to take him back in. You feel weightless beneath the obsidian glint in his eyes as he watches you repeat the motion again, and again, his arms helping you move as you start to shake from the effort of riding just the head of his cock.

Even now there’s something warm and urgent drawing your hand lower, and you’re unable to help feeling pleased when his eyes go heavy as his gaze follows your fingers down to where they press against your clit.

“So..needy.” he rumbles. “Better than I imagined.”

“You..imagined?” You pant, attempting to sound coy, but your words are thick with lust as you continue to roll your hips, forcing yourself down further down his length.

Your movements are becoming less controlled now, and when your fingers slip and brush against his shaft you whimper at how fucking big he feels where he's stretching you open, and how much of him is still outside of you.

You can feel every slick ridge and vein beneath your hand, and as you slide it along his length the muscles of his thighs tense and flex beneath you, his breathing going rough as your messy strokes continue.

“Look at you taking my cock,” Klaw grits, the demon’s hips beginning to stutter up in short, sharp thrusts. “Such a good little pet.”

His words trail into a low growl that vibrates through your body as you feel a hard throb beneath your hand, and then heat.

You gasp, continuing to writhe as he spills into you, coating your inner walls with his thick seed, and almost you feel as though you could come again just from the heat of it.

Fuck, you need more of that.

Need it deeper.

Even as the pulsing beneath your fingers slows he doesn't stop moving, finally coming inside of you seeming only to have tipped his need to fevered desire. Holding you in place he thrusts up harder, dislodging your hand, and you can feel his spend leaking out of you, dripping down the insides of your thighs and slicking his still hard cock as he continues to drive deeper, no longer letting you set the pace.

“This is what you wanted, wasn’t it?” He taunts, voice still a rough half-whisper after his orgasm. “Could feel it when you watched me. Wanted me to fill your little cunt, hmm?”

“Yes.” You let out a growled sob, jealous anger surging through you. ”That..thing, doesn’t fucking deserve it.”

A flame crackles in Klaw’s eyes at your heated words, and you wonder with a jolt of awareness whether he hasn’t been just as desperate for this as you have, longing for you as he remained trapped in the torment of a cold, unfeeling machine. Driven purely by instinct, chasing his release over and over again but never being truly satisfied.

The sudden realization that you could give that to him floods you with almost as much pleasure as the agony of being filled with his cock.

You’ve barely processed the thought when you suddenly find yourself with your back once again pressed against the cool metal of the table, Klaw only pulling out of you briefly before thrusting back in, harder.

He continues a slow, controlled rhythm, both of you panting hard as you feel yourself softening around him, becoming more pliant as your body relents to every stroke until with a final arching rock of his hips your cunt is completely stretched and full, everything so impossibly tight that you can’t even clench around him.

He's never felt anything quite like you, the achingly tight grip of your pussy leaving him nearly breathless as he holds himself as deep as he can, huffing and grunting like a bull while he watches you writhe and spasm beneath him.

Then he starts to fuck you.

He tries to keep his strokes firm and measured at first, but he can’t hold back anymore and it's not long before his chest is heaving, lips curled in a snarl, and it feels as though you're being split open as he pulls you back onto his cock in time to meet every thrust.

A scarlet thread runs through every cell of your soft animal body, stringing tighter and tighter as pleasure builds to the edge of breaking but then surging higher, a fresh ecstasy building on every peak.

The tightening grip around your waist signals the absolute loss of his control and when you hiss at the sudden piercing bite of his claws he moves his hands to brace on the table instead, his broad body forcing your legs back towards your shoulders as he leans down over you, driving his cock as deep as he can get into your willing heat until he’s grunting and drooling above you.

A divine bliss slides through your veins as you lie beneath him, caught between the trammel of his arms, and as you watch his base instinct take over you begin to understand that only fools could believe that lust is a sin.

And even if it was, even if you were offered perfect grace in this moment, you know with absolute certainty that you would refuse.

An infernal dam is finally swelling to breaking as you surrender to every relentless thrust of his cock, your wailed sobs the only sounds you can make as an impossible pressure ripples through your core, and with a deep throb you suddenly feel a drenching heat as your release washes over his cock and your thighs.

“There you go.” Klaw growls. “Make a mess for me, little one.”

This seems to be his final undoing, and as you continue to soak his cock his thrusting goes ragged until with rough groan he’s coming deep inside you, stilling himself to keep the head of his cock pressed against the deepest part of you, making sure that you feel every hot, throbbing pulse of his cum as it fills you.

Keeping himself seated deep he rocks slow grinding thrusts into the slippery mess he’s made of his you, the lust that’s had no real outlet finally finding satisfaction in the way your clenching cunt is milking his cock, in the gentle swell of your belly as he pumps you full of his seed.

You’re a sweaty, twitching mess beneath him, and as much as you wish you could you’re unable to take all of it, can’t help how it spills out around his cock where you’re stretched and sore, how his cum and yours drips down your swollen sex to pool beneath you on the table.

His hands don't stop moving over your body, cupping your breasts, grasping at you hips, sliding over the ripe swell of you where he can feel you filled with his cock and his cum. Vaguely aware of soft grunts mixed with mumbled praise, you don’t register what he’s saying at first through the haze of euphoria.

“Going to be mine.” he rumbles, between languorous strokes. ”My little queen.”

“Mine.”

* * * * * * *

The room is warm and flickering, silken sheets decadent beneath your fingers, your body thrumming with a heated anticipation that never seems to fade, now.

Rough hands lift your hips as your demon mounts you from behind, a hand placed firmly between your shoulder blades, pressing you down into the mattress.

A panting whine slides from your throat as he spreads you open, the thick head of his cock prodding your entrance, pleased to see you’re still dripping with his seed from the last time he filled you. And he doesn’t like leaving you empty for very long.

“Say it again, little one.” Klaw growls softly, holding himself still. Waiting.

“Yours.”

You sigh, a smile curling around the word as he pushes into you.

“I’m yours.”

A/N: As ever, thank you for reading! This was definitely a bit outside my comfort zone, but I hope you enjoyed this filthy little foray into monster fuckery. 😊

#monster x f reader #demon x f reader #demon!klaue #ulysses klaue x reader #ulysses klaw x reader #x reader #monster fucking #demon fucking #ulysses klaue smut #ulysses klaue #fanfiction

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cutesyscreenname · 1 year

Text

A Cowboy Like Me : Chapter 2

What Must It Be Like

Chapter 1

Series summary:

I've had some tricks up my sleeve

Takes one to know one

You're a cowboy like me

Javier Peña is a playboy, sleeping his way across Bogotá, never settling down. And he's used to being the only one. What happens when he meets his match? A friendly challenge between friends couldn't hurt, could it? Unless that friend is you...

Chapter Summary: Javier thinks over everything that happened at the bar as he and Steve get you home. He shouldn't be feeling like this...

Pairing: Javi Peña x f reader

Rating: 18+ minors DNI

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: drinking, hangover, language, angst 😉

Notes: So this is turning into a much longer endeavor than originally intended 😂 I thought it would only be a few parts but I capped this bad boy at 3k and we only made it halfway to where I thought we would. The next one will likely be even longer so hopefully y'all are down for it.

Here is the song mentioned at the end (there's no canon for it but I feel like Javi would have a few records from the 70's he brought from home and Santana would be one of them):

And the full playlist:

What must it be like to grow up that beautiful?

With your hair falling into place like dominoes

My mind turns your life into folklore

I can't dare to dream about you anymore

From the moment your eyes closed until you reached the parking lot of your shared apartment building there was no sound but the dull rumble of the engine and a gentle crooning over the radio.

Javier leaned his dark curls against the headrest, staring straight ahead but seeing nothing in front of him.

Steve’s eyes flickered over to his friend with concern but he held his tongue. The man was a million miles away, gears turning so quickly behind his eyes Steve swore he could hear the faint sound of metal scraping over itself in a desperate grind.

A cowboy. Like him.

I do what Javi does.

I'll prove it to you.

I hear it every time I try to sleep.

You're declarations float around Javier's mind in a jumble, a record that someone keeps lifting and dropping the needle onto at random.

You were a tricky one, no doubt about it. It’s why he liked you, why he wanted your friendship. Smart but not pretentious, guarded yet forgiving, sure footed but still a little reckless, and the biggest heart that you thought no one could see. Maybe they couldn’t, but he could.

He had imagined your romances before; tentative coffee dates, sweet kisses shared in taxis, most of your suitors left disappointed aside the select few who manage to be invited up for a night cap.

He had supposed not even these lucky finalists would prove to meet the standard for dating you longer than a week, a month tops, nor should they. The man you would keep long enough to mention, to bring to drinks, to invite for dinner at Steve and Connie’s, he couldn’t build such a human in his mind’s eye.

Javier had posited all of this and a million other things but none of his thoughts matched what you had just divulged.

Entertaining my companions.

Like Javi does.

The evening in review plays on the projector screen of his hippocampus.

Quick like a bunny, sweetheart, or I won't tip ya.

Even though it was for the sake of a deprecating joke, you’d never called him sweetheart before that night. It made his ears burn and he’d practically bolted to the bar to hide the involuntary flush sure to be staining his cheeks.

Pinche mocosa, he’d thought to himself, the smallest smile tugging at his lips. The smart little mouth on her.

Later in the evening you’d groaned when Javi appeared with three tequila shots in hand.

‘Come on, we don’t have to be at the office tomorrow. Plus, Steve is a better conversationalist when I’m drunk.’

With a ‘good point' from you and ‘fuck you both’ from Steve the three of you licked salt from your hands, kicked back the poison, and pressed your teeth into limes like sucking venom from a snake bite.

His gaze couldn’t help but linger on the way your flat tongue slid across the skin between your thumb and forefinger to collect the salt crystals, his breath hitching when your lips rolled over the edge of the citrus rind as you sucked the juice from it’s flesh.

A deer in the headlights, he’d been snapped from his reverie by the man across from him.

‘Ooooo-wee. I’m switchin’ to beer after this. Someone’s gotta get you two geniuses back home later.’

‘Awww, thanks dad.’ You’d said ruffling Steve’s hair.

After your glass had emptied and refilled once and then twice more, Steve started poking the bear to amuse himself, going after the way the drink colored your words with a heavy Texas twang.

Javier relished in it, your lilting voice drawing him in like a moth to a porch light. It felt nostalgic, like the polaroid of his mamá that rested between the pages of the book on his nightstand; intimate, like a secret piece of you, buried beneath the Gulf Coast clay, awaiting your return home.

Ever the co-conspirator, you followed his lead to help him land a crude joke. Not his finest, but enough to make you laugh which was plenty for him. Then something shifted.

‘Oh it’s what they ALL say, I hear ‘em every time I try to sleep at my place.’

You’d tormented the man about his noise level before. Hell, just that morning you'd been playfully ribbing him for it. It’s not like Javier tried to keep it down. He could hear the creak of your wicker ceiling fan when he lay in his own bed chasing sleep.

The paper thin walls between you concealed nothing. Sometimes Javier swore he could hear you thinking too hard on the other side of the studs and drywall. So it stood to reason that no matter what he did to dampen the lewd soundtrack you’d hear it, and if he couldn’t shield you from it he figured it was moot to even try.

The tone in your voice tonight, though, it was different. Still playful, still antagonistic, but there was a rough undercurrent slipping through. If it weren’t for Steve’s uncanny knack for levity, Javi might have gotten caught in the undertow.

‘Girl’s out to catch Escobar all on her lonesome.’

A solid deflection but you spurred on.

I do like Javi does.

A cowboy.

Like me.

I’ll prove it.

His mind was reeling, trying to amend the portrait of you in his mind. It felt impossible. You must have been fucking with them. He was really feeling the alcohol, more intoxicated than he’d been in a long while. He was reading it wrong. Back to the script. Back to the game.

‘I don’t fuckin believe you, cariño.’

If you thought he wouldn’t call your bluff you had another thing coming. With all the cool and confidence he could muster, Javier dug his heels in even more.

‘In fact I think you’re home every night. Ear pressed to my fuckin wall, apparently.’

Yup. That would do the trick. The point goes to Agent Peña. But no-

A wave of anger flashed across your eyes, making Javier’s throat run dry.

I’ll prove it to you.

If his mind had been racing before, it short circuited when you took two of your delicate fingers and pressed them to the exposed skin of his chest. He couldn’t fight the shiver that ran through his body so he just hoped you hadn’t noticed it.

And then you- God. Fuck.

You reached up and tapped his cheek gently with your hand, your determined gaze softening just so as you peered up at him. He almost leaned into the touch. Get yourself together, Peña. She doesn’t see you like that. Goddamn tequila - una idea estúpida. He turned away from you, trying to collect his thoughts, but in his periphery he could see you were on the move.

Too sloshed to walk without stumbling, you’d swayed dangerously when you stood in pursuit of another drink. Acting on instinct, Javier had placed his steady, calloused hands around your waist. The warmth of your skin through your t-shirt seemed to creep up his fingers and send a searing current down his spine.

His hands stay curled around you for what feels like an eternity and he wonders when you’ll slap them away. To anyone that asked he’d say he had kept hold on you because he couldn't let you fall over. Really, though, he couldn’t let go if he’d tried, a man electrified, hands locked in place on the raw, exposed wire of your form.

He'd flashed a pleading look to Steve and nearly collapsed when the man took you by the hand, breaking the circuit.

He trailed behind as Murphy helped you to the car with a strong arm around your shoulders, taking the opportunity to run his hands over his face, trying to calibrate his thoughts. He sealed himself in the front passenger seat and slipped into silent thought as you slid your eyes closed.

The next sound Javi took note of was his friend’s voice.

“Jav- we’re here, man.” His tone was gentle and Javi couldn’t tell if he appreciated the care or resented what bordered on sounding like pity.

“Let’s get you both upstairs, be good to sleep it off a little.”

Javier nods, not moving at first as Steve glances at the back seat where you lay, still lost in slumber.

The man in the driver’s seat reaches back and gives you a firm shake, calling your name a handful of times before sighing.

“I’m gonna need your help getting her upstairs, bud.” Yup that was definitely pity, Javier decided.

Not wanting to prove the man right, whatever he was thinking, Javi exited the car briskly and opened the back door on the side opposite your head. Lifting your calves from the where they hung over the edge of the seat, he hooked his hands beneath the crooks of your knees and pulled you to the threshold.

When he chanced a quick look at your face he took note of how soft, how peaceful you looked. Would you even remember the night's events in the morning?

Steve moved to help but didn’t get the chance as Javier steeled himself and swiftly maneuvered you, first sitting you upright in the seat before lifting to carry you in front of him. One arm beneath your legs, the other supporting your back, and your head slumped drowsily into his shoulder, he steeled his expression and started toward the apartment wordlessly, Steve hustling to catch up and help with the door.

“Can you tell where her keys are at?”

Javi sighed as they reached the landing. Your warmth pressed into his torso and he found himself torn between wanting to hold you tighter, to soak it in, and needing to get as far from you as possible.

“Well her pockets are clearly empty, so I’m guessing she keeps ‘em next to her cash. Not sure about you, Murphy, but I’m not lookin’ to cop a feel of an unconscious woman.”

It was the smart move, keeping your pockets empty and stashing the necessities in your bra, but it was a hindrance at this moment.

“Yeah that’s a game of go fish no one would be pleased with. Alright. She can crash with me and Connie.” Javi gave a quick nod to acknowledge his friend and turned you both toward the Murphys' door.

The lock turned almost silently under Steve’s careful movements but the hushed entry proved unnecessary when they walked in to see his beautiful wife, Connie, standing at the kitchen counter.

“Hey gang.” Her voice was soft and warm, gently welcoming the three of you in as though it was home to you and Javier as well. “She okay?”

“Yeah, honey. Just can’t find her keys and-“

“Say no more.” She waves off the explanation.

As Javier settles you onto the couch, Steve steps into the kitchen to speak with her quietly.

“What are you doin’ up, baby?”

She matched his hushed tone, just low enough to evade Javi’s range of hearing.

“Well when I woke up a bit ago and you weren’t here I figured drinks ran late. I’m about to put the kettle on, I thought at least one of you could use some tea and aspirin.”

“Let’s skip the tea and leave her some aspirin. Javi’s in no shape for company. I’ll tell you later.”

She nodded while Steve went to fill a glass with water for you.

As if on cue, “Not that I don’t enjoy seeing you, Connie, but I’m gonna head out.”

He finished pulling a blanket over your limp frame, slowly turning toward them with apologetic eyes.

“ No worries, Javi. I’m on my way back to bed anyway. Thanks for helping Steve get her inside.” Her knowing smile had him feeling uneasy.

“Anytime.” He replied softly. He and Steve exchanged quick nods and Javier slipped from their dwelling to his own. He locked the door behind him and leaned against it with an exhausted sigh.

What was he even thinking? Why should he be bothered? There was no good reason.

You were his friend, perhaps his best friend, and he had learned a surprising fact about you. That was all. He had no right to be anything but slightly surprised, maybe amused.

He didn’t worry for your safety, he’d seen you take down grown men twice your size on the job. You could handle yourself, no problem.

And so what if you were chasing away your demons? Lord knows he does the same. Columbia was vast and humid. The underbelly of the drug trade held the country in its bloody grip, pressing in on you from all directions. The assignment was full of uncertainty and it left Javier so lonely in the silence of his government issued abode.

He would do anything to fill the empty spaces, to stave off the cold tendrils that would pull at the walls of his chest when he lied awake, freefalling through the dark skies of his mind until morning. He could never fault you for doing the same.

Slumping into the worn sofa, his eyes shut slowly. Nothing is wrong. I drank too much and I'm being dramatic. She doesn't even think of me that way. It's not a big deal.

Still, as the weight of the day sank into his bones, sleep beckoning softly, his mind drifted to your faint sigh as you had nuzzled into his neck in your sleep while Steve unlocked his front door. When he opened his eyes again it was morning.

You awoke with a low groan, a sharp pain throbbing a wild cumbia rhythm behind your eyes. What happened last night?

You cracked open one eye cautiously, then the other, thankful to find the room somewhat dim around you. Only the small lamp across the room from you was on, blinds and curtains muffling the sunlight that tried to peek through the window behind you.

Eyes adjusting quickly, you recognized the comfortable sight of the Murphys’ living room. It was the same exact layout as yours, but Connie’s warm touch made all the difference. The soft decorative pillows, kitschy knick knacks, and framed candid photos transformed the small unit into something that felt like a home.

Okay I'm on Murphy’s sofa. So- Your gaze finds the full glass of water and bottle of aspirin on the coffee table. The puzzle pieces begin to fit together quickly. Just as you start to recall what happened the night before, what you had said, Steve slipped out of his bedroom and noticed you stirring.

“Heyyy good morning. How ya feel?” Thankfully he kept his tone low, guessing the answer to his own question.

“I’ve been better.” You croak, sitting up gingerly.

“I thought that might be the case. You see the Aspirin? Connie made sure to close the curtains for ya.”

“Yes thank you.” You tap two pills into your palm and kick them back with a healthy glug of water. “Is there a chance I could have some-“

“Already on it.” Steve was moving to fill the coffee maker with water before you asked.

“Where is that angel you tricked into marrying you?”

“At the clinic, unfortunately. Somebody called in sick and they’re so shorthanded as it is. She said to give you her best and inform you that you’d better come for dinner soon.”

You raised your eyebrows as Steve raised his hands in surrender. “Don’t shoot the messenger, kid. I’m just quotin’. You know she won’t take no for an answer.”

You chuckled in reply.

Once your mugs were filled with rich black liquid, Steve placed them on the table in front of you, taking a seat on the sofa. You both sipped in silence for a few moments before you decided to break the ice.

“So…last night. Um. Did I-“ You did not want to ask but you needed confirmation. “Did I basically tell y’all all about my sex life in no uncertain terms?” You wince when you hear the words out loud.

“Well, my friend, in no uncertain terms… you said that Javi’s lady friends are so loud you can’t sleep so you conduct your own ah – activities – in other venues, namely the homes of your own dates.”

You groaned loudly and covered your face with your hands. It wasn’t a dream. You’d definitely made a tequila shaped mistake and said the in-your-head thing out loud.

“Do ya wanna hear the rest or should I just leave it be?”

“There’s MORE?” You didn’t want to ruminate, better to rip the band-aid off. “Let’s hear it.”

“Okay. So that, and then I guess Javi thought you were kiddin’ so he tried to push your buttons and you said somethin’ about provin’ it to him.”

The confirmation was all you needed, the words flooding back to you all at once.

Ear pressed to my fuckin’ wall apparently.

Ah yes, the anger. You were remembering quickly. Pendejo. Why wouldn’t he believe that about you? You weren't a delicate flower, some witless debutante in need of safekeeping. You were his friend and his fucking equal. Of course rubbing his nose in it seemed appealing, especially after so many drinks.

Polishing off the contents of your mug, you placed it on the table and stood, crossing to the door.

“I think I should go back to mine. I just-“

“Yeah. No. I get it.”

“Thanks for not diving for my keys, by the way. And ya know…everything else.” You smiled weakly at the man on the sofa.

“Yeah we, uh, figured that wouldn’t work out well. For all involved.” He chuckled. “As for the rest, anytime, kid. You know that.”

You nod and open the door. “I’ll call Connie soon.”

“Oh believe me, if you don’t she’ll be at your doorstep. She knows where ya live.”

You smiled, shaking your head. “Bye Murphy.”

Once alone in your apartment, you stripped off your jeans and t-shirt, collapsing on your bed as you vowed to shower after another round of sleep.

You could hear the faint sound of Javier’s record player, the muffled melody lulling you into relaxation.

I am just a mirage

Oh, I am just a mirage

When you look at me

Through your crystal glass you will see

That I am now your past

But you give your love to me

In your life I wasn’t meant to be.

Oh I am just a mirage

Just a mirage fading away like water

The faint guitar licks pull you towards sleep like a receding tide carrying you out to sea. Even as you sink into slumber, you almost swear you can hear Javi thinking too hard on the other side of the paper thin wall.

Let me know if y'all wanna be on the tag list! I'll have one going as long as Tumblr cooperates 😂

@heythere-mel

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tezzbot · 1 month

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Okay.. so... fairly long post under the cut with the sort of background to my Sonic Underground AU!! If anyone's interested fjdgv I have thought about it a Lot lol

So basically, The background is that Eggman has definitely been up to shit since before Sonic was born lol and one of his sort of things when he I guess started out in villainy ? was he started trying to claim land and take over so that he could build his cities and theme parks and factories and what have you and rule over everything. So, after claiming some untouched land he started attacking “Mobian'' settlements, (not sure whether to stick with Mobian or what but the word gets my point across so I’m using it now sfgdh) and I guess started working his way up until he found Christmas Island, which is the small Kingdom Aleena ruled over at the time. This caused the Kingdom to fight back and started a war with Robotnik. However. Obviously the warzone was no place to be raising the Very recently born heirs to the throne (the three who would grow up to be Sonia Sonic and Manic, they might’ve had different names back then lol) and so Aleena with a Very heavy heart sent the three Far away, they had them sent to a dinky little orphanage in a fairly distant zone, intending to pick them back up when the war was over.

Unfortunately, Very early on in the triplet’s stay at the orphanage, when they were still practically babies, an unfortunate cot placement led to Manic being kidnapped sometime in the dead of night (don’t ask why they did it I just think it’s funny love and light). He was taken to a nearby city, and somehow managed to endear himself to Ferral, the leader of one of the larger sort of crime rings active there. This is where he learned to get by and live and thrive, little crime family they love each other and rag on each other so much smile smile smile.

Sonic stayed in the orphanage a lot longer than Manic, but doesn’t really remember his time there all that much. As soon as Sonic figured out how to, he ran. Ran as fast and as far as he was able. Ran until he had no idea how to get back. But he'd not a guilt on his conscience. He was free, for the first time felt truly free. He learned how to survive on his own and met a little two tailed fox cub and his life played out pretty much exactly the same as it does in the main line continuity :)

Sonia is the only one of the three who has any memory of staying in the orphanage and was the only one to leave there by regular means dgfhfg. At about five years old, she was one of a few girls from across the continent to be chosen to attend and live at an all girls school where they would grow into proper ladies™, being taught etiquette and manners and so on. She managed a fairly cushy lifestyle here but was never truly happy there. She obviously has her besties like Mindy, but it always felt far too restrictive and (figuratively) cold. So while she does do well there, she is slightly prone to getting in trouble and feels kind of belittled and invisible among her peers at times

So in the triplet’s maybe 3rd year? The war on Christmas Island ended and the Mobians were unfortunately forced to go into hiding. Aleena made it out and went into her own hiding in the form of laying low in a residential area in a nearby city, and attempted to blend in there for a few years before making the trip to finally reunite with her children. Unfortunately by the time she gets there, all three are gone :( Even though the orphanage may know where Sonia is, she feels as though she has failed all three as their mother and wouldn't be able to face any of them (despite the fact they're like. 6 year olds lol), and so retreats back to her city home.

Until, over a decade later, Aleena sees the world renowned hero Sonic the Hedgehog that she hears so much about, (maybe he’s just saved that part of the city from a badnik attack or something like that) and there is just… something about him that is so uncannily like her Bernie… His heroism and humility right down to his mannerisms, the being blue also adds to the effect. And… Aleena is not one to get her hopes up, but the chance of this being one of her missing children after all these years…

Then I’m thinking maybe, she is wearing the equivalent of the three medallions and, maybe as she gets closer to Sonic one of them has some sort of magical reaction ? or something I’m not actually sure. But something DOES confirm to Aleena that This is one of her kids oh my god!! And he’s just like his (other) mother… Aleena gets overwhelmed and ends up not talking to him. Sonic maybe notices someone in a long flowy jacket running away from the crowd, but gets distracted by the many other thankful citizens around him to really take note of it lol

This is when Aleena writes her letter to Sonic. She looks him up, tries very hard to find out where he lives. Ultimately coming up with nothing she’s like IS MY BOY HOMELESS?? But then what comes up eventually is a plethora of small garages and laboratories under the name Dr. Miles Prower and is like Oh! An apprentice maybe :) lol and so she rolls the dice and chooses one of those locations at random and hopes her message gets to him soon.

This is just the leadup to what would be the "main plot" of the AU and I do have more for it!! So if this like. Text based way of explaining my ideas is alright I can share more from the google doc if ppl are interested!! And maybe I'll doodle some stuff for it here n there who know (seems likely tho lol)

#sth #sonic underground au #sonic underground

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daydreamingleclerc · 2 years

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kinktober #9 - carlos sainz jr

you’ve done nothing but tease him since you got off the plane, and carlos is sick and tired of you having the upper hand, so he makes sure to put you in your place.

prompts: edging, orgasm denial

warnings: public sex, oral (m,f), fingering, edging, orgasm denial (duh), bratty!y/n, dom!carlos, papi!kink, unprotected sex, spanish pet names (i researched several and i just picked out my favourites, spanish is not my first language).

this is a lot longer than i intended, i got carried away thinking about husband, dad!carlos and wrote a fully fledged smut rather than something small 🥹

“that’s enough, hermosa.”

carlos stripped your hand from his thigh, slamming it down onto your own with a sharp sting. you rubbed the flesh with your fingertips, and admired how your husband continued to drive with gritted teeth.

“enough?” you questioned, “two hours ago you enjoyed it.” your response was sarcastic, planting your hand back onto the high point of his thigh.

“two hours ago i wasn’t driving,” he glanced over at you and subjected your hand back down to your own leg, “now stop being a brat cause it’ll end up getting us killed, reina.”

you frowned. carlos saw the pout in his peripheral vision and patted your thigh softly, and immediately you opened your legs; thinking he would touch you. he laughed softly.

“you’re rock hard, carlos, baby.”

he shook you off, focusing his eyes on the roads and the glistening spanish sunlight. your hands trailed up his inner arm, circling his inner elbow with the soft pads of your fingers.

“querida,” carlos said through gritted teeth, “i’m driving.”

“then pull over.”

you were right — he was as hard as a rock, and there was no way he was going to pick up the children from his parents house in this state.

carlos swore under his breath in spanish and you squirmed in your seat. his hand squeezed the flesh of your thigh again, and you pictured it as your throat.

carlos made a sharp right turn into a derelict car park, with nobody around but a few cars in the distance. you felt your heart beating in your throat with anticipation, and groped at carlos’ cock.

“here’s what’s gonna happen,” he unstrapped his seatbelt, “im going to make you feel good, but you can’t cum until i say so, my darling, and then i might fuck you, and maybe if you stop being a brat, i’ll let you cum before we pick up the kids. understood?”

you nodded frantically, and carlos groped at your boobs before he’d even unstrapped your belt. your nipples were rock hard through the material of your thin vest top, and he pulled it from your denim shorts. his tongue flicked at your nipples, undoing the belt but shoving it into your mouth.

you bit down on the fabric, squirming around as he licked at one and flicked the other one with his finger. his golf shorts got tighter by the second, a sight you always enjoyed to see.

“carlos — i — fuck, you’re so…”

he pulled away from your nipples with a pop and wrapped a hand around your throat. he smirked. “did you want to say something, hermosa?”

his lips collided with yours and he knocked all the air from your lungs. you sunk into him, only stopping the kiss when carlos fumbled with the buttons along the side of the car — in moments like this it would be the ferrari but since you’d had two kids, things had changed — to let you out.

“thank god for the big car,” carlos muttered as he followed you, slamming the drivers seat door and walking towards the back passenger seat. you’d pushed the kids car seats back into the boot — you’d deal with readjusting those later — and carlos lowered you down into the seats, your legs up on his shoulders.

carlos’ fingers grazed your outer thighs while his lips kissed along the inner. you leaned forward to stroke his hair but pushed the cap off in the process. he lifted up your skirt — noting that it was the skirt that your baby girl was conceived in — and ran a thumb against your clothed clit.

“so wet,” he mumbled, repeating the action. your mewled when he pulled the white cotton thong to the side and licked a circle around your clit. it left you crying out for more. “what is it, sweetheart?”

“more papi, more,” was all you could say, making grabby hands at his hair. carlos licked a stripe along your clit.

“like this?”

“mhm,” you whimpered. carlos continued to use his tongue like that, and in turn you arched your back up off of the seat, your moans filling the car. “fuck, carlos.”

he continued, his tongue working at double the speed now, allowing your orgasm to build. he looked ethereal eating your pussy, as if he was made to do it. you didn’t think you’d ever get over it. with his fingers he spread your lips, and the feeling made you jolt and jerk. “oh, oh my god, baby... ‘m gonna...”

before you could finish your sentence, carlos pulled away from you. your back dropped back onto the seats and you whined. carlos raised an eyebrow, “don’t start kicking off now hermosa, you know the rules.”

you whimpered, unsure on how much teasing you could take. you loved race weekends with carlos, but there was never any time for just you, and you’d been strung out for four days, it was needed. carlos leaned over, shoving two of his fingers into your mouth, where you coated them in so much spit and saliva there was a string of it connected to the pads as he pulled them out.

carlos’ fingers pushed inside you, and he couldn’t help but choke on his own breath at how tight you were. they curled in a come hither motion, and you mewled when he hit all the right spots.

his thumb brushed against your clit repeatedly, and you ached to orgasm. with his free hand, he leaned up and pinched at one of your nipples, reveling in the sounds you were making.

“being so good for me,” he muttered, kissing along your pubic bone. you frowned, wriggling your hips.

“then let me cum, papi,” you responded, but carlos shook his head. his fingers sped up and his thumb became reckless on your clit, and you could feel the pressure building in your stomach once more. “carlos, please.”

the sound of you begging drove him insane, and it was single-handedly almost enough for him to give in; but rules — his rules — were rules and what kind of man would he be if he broke them?

“no, reina,” he said, “don’t you dare.”

he continued to finger fuck you with his thumb on your clit, and you could feel the familiar buzz of excitement inside of your stomach, the bubbling feeling you didn’t get anywhere else.

“carlos,” you cried, “i can’t hold it, please, please, please.”

“nope,” he pulled his fingers and his thumb from you just as you were about to crescendo into an orgasm, but he managed to strip himself away just in time. “you’ve still not earned it.”

“what can i do to cum, carlos?” you pouted. carlos knew exactly what you could do.

“shut the fuck up,” he stood up and pushed both the passenger and drivers seat down so the heads were touching the dash, and slid down onto the seat beside you, “c’mere.”

he hastily undid his belt and shorts, pulling his dick out of his boxers. you shivered. he grabbed the back of your head and you took him into your mouth, choking as he pushed you down further. the lack of air made your eyes water, but you knew carlos liked that.

your throat contracted around his dick, and as you sucked him off, carlos struggled to keep composure. he threw his head back and began muttering spanish profanities, something which always riled you up.

he bucked his hips up and you choked around him, spit spluttering out all across his thighs. “fuck, i need to cum inside of you, reina, lay back,” he tugged you up by your hair and you pulled off of him with a pop.

you were tempted to bite back, to laugh at how quickly you brought on the sensation of his orgasm; but you knew better than to chat back when you were skating on thin ice.

you laid back and carlos didn’t even bother to undress either of you any more than you already were. he braced a hand on the headrest of one of the seats and guided himself inside of you with the other, and you cried out at the stretch.

he didn’t leave you any adjustment room, thrusting in and out of you at a relentless pace that made you arch your back up almost instantly.

you knew you’d be cumming within minutes providing carlos let you. as you clenched around him, he shook his head and wrapped a hand around your throat.

“not yet, querida,” carlos struggled to get his words out and it was clear his orgasm was approaching, “wait.”

you shook your head, the orgasm was going to thrash around inside your body any minute, and you physically couldn’t hold it off. “papi, i can’t,” you breathed, carlos’ hand contracting the muscles in your throat.

“hold it, amor,” he grunted as he began to give you sloppy, staccato thrusts, “wait for me.”

“can’t,” you panted once more. the orgasm was balancing on the brink, and you knew with one fleeting touch to your clit you’d be cumming all over carlos — and the car. “papi, please.”

carlos’ dick twitched and you knew he was seconds away from cumming. you clenched again, “please, papi, please let me cum,” you whined, “i promise i’ll be good.”

“no more being a brat?”

“no, no,” you shook your head when carlos’ grip released, “no more, i promise i will never do it again, please just — fuck — please just let me cum.”

as carlos nodded, you pressed a single finger to your sensitive & puffy clit and came all around his dick with pornographic-esque moans. his orgasm was triggered by the involuntary clenching of your walls around him, and you could feel both of your cum dripping from your legs.

“i love you, hermosa.”

“i love you too, baby,” you braced your hand on carlos’ cheek and he kissed the soft, sweaty flesh of your palm. he pulled out of you and pushed the cum that spilled onto the seats back into you, and you whined at the sensitivity.

“shit,” carlos muttered, “we were supposed to be at my dad’s twenty minutes ago.”

“naya’s probably wondering where her daddy is,” you scrambled up into the front seat of the car from your spot in the back and carlos admired your stubbornness. “god knows what antonio’s doing.”

carlos laughed and his hand found yours across the gearstick as he drove; proud that he could’ve just potentially put another baby inside of you. “at least we don’t have to worry about them asking questions,” carlos glanced over at you, “you’re the dictionary description of fucked out right now.”

“it’s not the kids i’m worried about,” you jabbed his arm, “your parents are the ones that ask questions.”

“oh yeah.. dad might end up figuring it out pretty quickly.”

“i gathered.”

#carlos sainz jr #kinktober #kinktober (emi’s version)#carlos sainz fluff #carlos sainz jr smut #carlos sainz blurb #carlos sainz x you #carlos sainz jr x you #carlos sainz x y/n #carlos sainz jr x reader #carlos sainz jr x y/n #carlos sainz one shot #carlos sainz imagine

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