#{ IT'S HARD TO SAY THERE'S NOTHING I REGRET || MANNERISMS }

[mischiefmanagedmumu]

Sirius tag dump.

[srsly-sirius]

{ tag dump }

[darkmatilda]

𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐤 | 𝐬.𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: after a terrible day at work, you find an unexpected dose of comfort in an absurd late-night conversation with your coworker.

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬/𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐰: spencer reid x newbaumember!femalereader, you make a huge mistake at work (unspecified) for which you get seriously chewed out by hotch, too many beds trope, ridiculously long considering the entire plot revolves around a single conversation, gets kinda wild at the end, spencer hits his head, but it’s nothing serious

𝐚/𝐧: the ending inspired by a situation from my life, but don’t worry, my head is fine now (in the general sense of the word) (no one kissed my forehead...) i recommend reading it in bed before sleep <33

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 5.7 k

"Hotch, but I thought—"

"It doesn't matter what you thought," your boss replied in his typical, emotionless tone, which in this particular situation sent a distinct chill down your spine. Every word he uttered felt like a frozen dagger, driven straight between your ribs and left there, while the coldness spread across your skin in the form of goosebumps. "What you did was not only reckless but also undermined all of today’s hard work by the entire team. They put tremendous effort into locating the unsub and cornering him at that specific location, and because of your decision, he managed to escape. Every additional day this man remains free could cost someone their life—an innocent person."

You stood before him in an empty parking lot across from the hotel where your entire team was staying. It wasn’t exactly the typical setting for delivering a reprimand, but since you were far from the office, there wasn’t a better option at hand. And while you were teetering on the edge of tears—tears you were desperately holding back to avoid appearing like a weak little girl in his eyes—you were grateful for one thing. Grateful that he had chosen to chastise you in private. One-on-one. Away from everyone else.

A moment of silence fell between you, and you tried not to lower your head like a chastised child—but that’s exactly how you felt. Not just ashamed, but overwhelmingly guilty. As someone who had only recently joined the BAU, you’d never made such an egregious mistake before. A mistake that could cost someone their life. Deep down, you had clung to the naive hope that this moment would never come. That if you followed the instructions of those more experienced than you with feigned confidence, something like this could be avoided.

But reality had placed you in a completely different position—one where, for a brief moment, the weight of everything rested squarely on your shoulders. You failed, and the unsub escaped.

The wind around you blew with a certain bitterness, tugging at your hair. It drowned out the sound of your heavy breathing, your racing heartbeat, and the loud gulp as you swallowed. Hotch, saying nothing, studied you with a measured gaze. You couldn’t help but wonder if he regretted allowing you into this job.

“I wanted you to be aware of that,” he said, his tone less harsh now but tinged with a certain disappointment that only deepened the guilt gnawing at you. He nodded, signaling you were free to go. “That’s all I had to say.”

He walked away, and watching his figure dissolve into the darkness in such a dramatic manner, you couldn’t help but let out a laugh. The laugh immediately turned into the beginning of a sob, which you quickly stifled, waving your hand in front of your face. You stood there for a moment, your feet seemingly rooted to the parking lot, as though the concrete were still fresh, hardening around your shoes.

In your experience, failure almost always came hand in hand with a sense of vulnerability, transporting you into a completely different, weaker body, one without any shields. All the achievements of the past few years, including making it into the BAU at such a young age, seemed to melt away, and once again, you were nothing.

You knew you couldn’t stand there all night, but in a way, it felt safer. In the motel, you might run into someone from the team. You might accidentally meet their gaze, and you’d see the disappointment in their eyes. After all those weeks of trying to prove your worth to them, of showing that you even belonged in this job, the last thing you wanted was to face that look.

To muster some courage, you took a deep, slow breath. You needed to slip into your room unnoticed, lie down in bed, hoping that the night would at least slightly cleanse you of your guilt. Hotch was absolutely right. Not only had you wasted an entire day of hard work, but you’d also put civilians from that area in danger. What if tomorrow another person became a victim?

The thought tormented you so much that by the time you reached your door, you were massaging your temples. You inserted the key you had picked up from the front desk into the lock, turned it, and was about to pull the handle… but it was locked. Frustrated, you figured the universe had simply decided to unite all of its forces against you as some kind of punishment. Before you could resort to a tired kick at the door and curl up in a ball in the hallway, you tried again. This time, the door opened without issue.

So absorbed in yourself, your situation, and your grievances, you didn’t even notice that inside, not only was the light on, but there were someone’s belongings—and, most importantly, someone else. It wasn’t until you took off your coat and stepped further into the room (if you could even call it that, it was an exceptionally small space) and came face to face with Spencer Reid that you realized you weren’t alone.

You stopped mid-step, stunned as if the least expected thing at that moment had just appeared before you—a turtle on stilts wearing a cowboy hat, or some other kind of religious prophet.

Quick note—this wasn't the first time you and Reid had shared a room during cases. Specifically, the bed. It all started when you found out he struggled with a fear of the dark, and someone’s presence really helped him feel better. In fact, at first, he insisted on sleeping on the floor, but you couldn't just watch him suffer on that uncomfortable surface every night. And, you had to admit, sometimes after an especially harrowing day in your, let’s be honest, stressful job, it felt nice to fall asleep next to someone.

As usual, it was him who came to you. Late at night, to your room, when he felt like sleeping would be particularly difficult. He was never there from the start…

"It turns out all the rooms here are double," he blurted out hastily upon seeing you, his tone overly explanatory.

When you walked in, he was in the middle of pulling something out of his suitcase. He straightened up, and you noticed he was wearing a loose T-shirt, his hair damp from a shower, and in his hand, he held that familiar white sweater you often teased him about, the one with an embroidered bear wearing glasses.

"I mean, the rest of the team got roomed together too, so we’re not some weird exception. I hope this doesn’t bother you. If it does, well, maybe we can switch somehow… I know Elle and JJ are together, and I think they only have two beds in their room, but maybe... or I could go with Derek…”

"Oh, come on," you waved dismissively, your tone sounding a bit irritated, like you were shooing away an annoying fly. The truth was, you were exhausted from the day and didn’t want to worry about the accommodation on top of everything else.

Reid stopped mid-sentence, his lips slightly parted. You felt guilty again as you had no reason to speak to him like that. He hadn’t done anything to deserve your frustration.

"I'm sorry," you sighed, your tense posture easing a little as you realized you were no longer outside, under the sharp, yet truthful words of your boss. "Really... I'm sorry, Reid. It doesn't bother me at all. Not one bit," you reassured him, sincerely.

He studied you in silence for a moment, his face showing a concerned, analytical expression.

"Actually, we’ve shared a room before," you added almost immediately, forcing a little chuckle. "And not just once. Well, at least now we have two beds…"

"Did you... did you talk to Hotch?"

The question was asked with hesitation, on a breath. Well, it finally meant confronting everything that had happened that day. You looked him straight in the eyes, searching for judgment or any hint of dislike toward you. But there was none. Instead, you found concern and discomfort at the fact that he had even brought up the subject.

"It’s... it’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it," he quickly corrected himself, giving a slight nod. "You... you have every right, I don’t expect you to explain anything to me, your conversation with the boss is your private matter... oh God, I feel like with every word I say, my statement is losing more and more sense, and I’m getting more and more tangled in it, isn’t that right?"

He stared at you with furrowed brows, waiting for your reaction. It turned out to be... a burst of laughter. You honestly couldn’t help yourself.

“I hate to admit it, but yeah, you’re right. You completely lost your train of thought. Maybe we should just pretend I’ve only just walked through that door, huh?”

“That’s... that’s actually a very good suggestion. So... so, uh, hi?”

Your lips curved into a smile, this time genuine.

“Hi, Reid.”

He managed to improve your mood in less than five minutes after you’d received a serious reprimand. You were immensely glad to have ended up with him in the room lottery. Shaking your head in disbelief, you began getting ready for bed without a word. He didn’t say anything either, sensing you needed a bit of space after everything that had happened. Speaking of space...

“This room is alarmingly small, don’t you think?” you said, returning from the shower and slowly sliding under your blanket. Fifteen minutes under scalding hot water had helped your body relax, and you no longer felt like you might throw up on your own feet at any moment. “It’s like some sort of exclusive cupboard under the stairs. Still a cupboard, though. Look, I can practically touch you.”

You stretched out your arm to demonstrate. Sure enough, even though you were sitting on neighboring beds, your fingertips almost brushed the fabric of his shirt. Between you was a massive nightstand made of dark wood, the same as the windowsill and the floor. On it sat a slightly old-fashioned bedside lamp with a glass base and a slightly yellowed lampshade. Other than that, there wasn’t much furniture. Not that there would’ve been room for any.

“Do you hear that?” Reid asked enigmatically, sitting up straighter on his bed.

You looked at him, intrigued.

“Listen closely…is that…paper rustling? Morgan drafting his resignation?”

You chuckled. Your coworker had a particular sensitivity to the motels you stayed in and their condition. He firmly believed that since you risked your lives almost daily during dangerous cases and investigations, you deserved accommodations that were at least decent. And that wasn’t always what you got.

“Don’t worry, as long as the shower has hot water, we don’t have to fear him leaving,” you said. “Though now that I think about it, I can’t blame Harry.”

“Harry?”

“Potter. If I lived in such a claustrophobic little room, I’d convince myself I was a wizard too. Can I turn off the lamp?"

You politely asked, as usual, leaving plenty of room for potential conversation. Aware of his fear, you always ensured he felt comfortable with the encroaching darkness. Reid looked at you with a hint of hesitation.

"Maybe... maybe it could stay on for a bit longer? If that's..."

"That’s okay," you finished for him, knowing what he intended to say.

A fleeting, grateful expression crossed his face. Seeing it, a small smile tugged at the corner of your lips. You were glad he no longer felt as ashamed of his unease with the dark. Besides, you preferred the light to stay on too. You were afraid of what the darkness might conceal—the worries and anxieties it could bring… already was bringing.

Mainly, it was the looping words of your boss, the thought of how you'd messed up, and the rest of the team. Well, there was one thing that eased your mind in that regard: knowing that Reid was lying in the bed next to yours and recalling the look on his face when he saw you. He wasn’t angry that you’d let the unsub get away. Maybe the others weren’t as furious with you as you’d imagined.

Or maybe it was the opposite?

Maybe he, as the second-youngest member of the team after you, was the only one showing you any understanding. And the others, perhaps, harbored nothing but disdain, their resentment growing stronger at the mere thought of you…

"You're shivering."

Reid's observation reached your ears as you lay on your side, facing away from him. His voice was gentle, blending seamlessly with the quiet that had previously enveloped the room, not cutting through the sound of your sleepy breaths but accompanying it. Not knowing how to respond, you gave a small shrug. He probably saw it—you could feel his gaze on you. It wasn't intrusive, just a worried glance from the corner of his eye.

"I could turn up the temperature if you're cold. Do you want me to?"

Your trembling had nothing to do with the cold, but admitting that felt like too much. You pulled the blanket tighter around you, trying to steady your restless body.

"Yeah, if you don’t mind," you murmured in response.

It was easier to blame it on the chill. Still, hearing him get up and move toward the thermostat, you felt a pang of guilt for pulling him out of bed. He should already be asleep. There was so much work waiting for you both tomorrow. Another day of the investigation—a case that could have been solved already if not for you…

"I'm afraid…it doesn’t seem to work," Reid said thoughtfully. He fiddled with it for a moment longer before letting out a sigh and returning to his bed, though he didn’t lie down right away. He paused in the narrow space between your beds, and you felt his gaze again, wondering what it meant this time.

"Maybe… I don’t know, would you want my sweater? You know which one. It's…too warm for me, but since you're freezing…”

Reid’s voice was soft, tinged with an almost shy kindness that made your chest tighten. You didn’t need to turn around to picture the small, uncertain smile that likely accompanied his offer. Of course, you knew exactly which one he meant. He had received it as a Christmas gift from Penelope, and it was quite light and breathable. But what truly made it a staple in his pajamas was the adorable bear wearing glasses that appeared on the front. Sometimes, when you slept in the same bed, you could feel the softness of its fabric.

You had just turned toward him, a hint of hesitation in your eyes. You weren’t actually cold—you had been lying about that all along—but still... the offer lingered in your mind. His kindness, followed by the concern. You felt that taking his specific sweater, which was not only comfortable but also... well, his, could effectively calm your trembling limbs and ease your anxiety.

"Would you like to give it to me?" you asked, making sure. "You don't have to."

He shrugged slightly and immediately bent down to grab the suitcase tucked under the bed. The sweater in question was right on top, so he could reach for it at any moment when he felt the need for an extra layer.

"I know I don't have to," he replied, pausing for a moment with the sweater in hand. "But, you know, I want to. It's just a sweater."

"Won't Penelope be mad if you're giving it away like that?" you asked, raising an eyebrow.

"She’d be furious…" he started, his gaze fixed stubbornly on the edge of your bed, his forehead lightly furrowed. After a serious moment of hesitation, he sat on the bed, as gently as if he feared it would burn him. He stretched the sweater out towards you. "…if I gave it to anyone else. But in this case, she'd probably scold me if I didn’t give it to you."

You took it from him. Though it wasn’t one of those thick, bulky sweaters, it felt surprisingly heavy in your hands.

"I wouldn't be so sure about that," you replied after a moment of hesitation, letting out a sigh. "After today."

Reid looked at your face in silence. Suddenly, you started regretting not turning off the lamp after all. His gaze seemed piercing, too piercing. It surely noted every shadow of doubt and shame cast by the subtle changes in your expression.

“That’s what’s worrying you, isn’t it?”

For a moment, you both stared at each other in silence. You sighed, shifting slightly to the side, making room beside you.

“Come on. It’s easier for me to talk when I don’t have someone directly in front of me.”

Surprised, he stared at the small space next to you, shaking his head slightly.

“But… this bed is kind of ridiculously small, don’t you think?”

“I’m not that wide, Reid. If that’s what you’re suggesting…”

“That���s absolutely not what I meant, and I definitely wasn’t suggesting anything,” he quickly explained. “Well, maybe apart from the fact that every tiny movement will risk us both falling off…” He looked at you with an unchanged expression, patiently pointing to the spot next to you and sighed in defeat. “Okay, I feel like I’m not winning this one…”

Well, he had a point. After a while of shifting around, trying to find a position where you wouldn’t keep elbowing each other in the ribs, and after countless accidental jabs and whispered apologies, it ended with him half-lying, half-sitting, leaning against the headboard of the narrow bed, while you lay flat on your back, your head resting on the pillow. His figure cast a gentle shadow over you, making the room feel darker than it really was. It had a calming effect. Or maybe it was just the presence of someone so close by. Or perhaps it was the touch of the soft sweater, the fabric resting between your fingers, in the way one holds a rosary. Maybe it was a little bit of all those things.

"I screwed up today," you said. Though your voice was soft, there was no trace of gentleness in your tone. From the way you were lying, you could see his face, and you noticed his lips part slightly, as if to deny it. "And don't try to convince me otherwise, Reid. I knew that even before Hotch said it to my face."

You heard him sigh softly.

"I guess it wasn't a pleasant conversation."

"Oh, Reid, it was like a horror movie. But I don't blame him for anything he said. I deserved to hear it all from someone else's mouth, not just from my own head." Restlessly, you began to fiddle with the sweater like a stress toy. He watched the movement of your hands, alternating between that and the slight trembling of your chin. "At least the talk with him is over. Now I'm scared... scared of what’s with the rest of the team."

You voiced your biggest worry out loud, and there was a silence as he pondered it.

“I think… I think we’ve talked about this before,” he replied finally, clearing his throat. “About how you’re afraid of what others will think of you. And I don’t want to repeat myself, but... you need to look at it a bit differently. We all started somewhere, we were all rookies. If we got mad at each other every time someone messed up, well, there wouldn’t be a team. Of course, we keep in mind all the mistakes we've made in the past..."

“You're good at comforting...” you muttered bitterly.

"...But we don’t dwell on them unnecessarily," he finished. "We're only human, you know. It’s estimated that each person makes about five to seven mistakes a day. If we assume you live to be about eighty... though of course, I wish you much more than that, that would be between 150,000 and 200,000."

You snorted, listening to those statistics.

“I feel like I’ve already used up half of my lifetime quota today,” you confessed, while also reflecting on the first part of his statement. About the team, who, according to him, wasn’t going to hold a grudge against you…

Reid paused for a moment, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye.

“It’s not the end of the world,” he said after a while. “Just make sure you’re really careful when you’re old. You won’t forget when your grandkids have birthdays.”

“Damn, I think that’s the problem. I’ve got the memory of a goldfish. I’ll probably mix up their names. Or call them all by the same one. The prettiest one, of course. The least common one.”

“Just make sure you get a good calendar,” he suggested. “One that’ll remember everything for you. Dates, names.”

“And the number for the rheumatologist.”

“And the number for the rheumatologist,” he agreed.

You spent a long moment without bringing up any new topics, but laughing quietly about the course of the conversation. If you looked at it that way, this was probably the only time in your life you talked to someone about being an old lady with a questionable memory and joint problems with amusement rather than sheer terror. Although the bed was seriously small, you felt more comfortable than ever before. You were sinking deeper into the mattress, into his side, into relaxation. You wondered if and when, or even if, he planned to go back to his own bed. There was really no reason for him to stay...but was there any reason for him to leave?

“And you?” you spoke again after a long moment. You felt like the only way to keep him around was by saying something. Not that you were desperate to have him stay… “Have you ever messed up on a case? Like, seriously messed up?”

"I could lie and say I haven't," he noticed.

He shifted slightly, likely due to exhaustion, as his back had been slowly sliding down the headboard for a while, until it finally sank into the mattress. His head rested on the pillow right next to yours, closer than ever before. Well, you could only blame the narrow bed for that. Because of the tight space, you had to lie on your side, which meant your breath brushed against his cheek.

"You could. But then I'd ask Elle for the truth, and you'd only end up compromising yourself."

"That's true. That's why I'm telling you. Just promise you won't laugh."

"This sounds serious. Come on, what did you do?" you asked, genuinely curious, a smile tugging at your lips. "Oh, or let me guess."

He lay on his back, his gaze fixed on the ceiling. However, when you suggested it, he slowly and hesitantly turned onto his side as well, so that you were face to face. He probably wanted to see your reaction, the laughter you'd burst into once he told you, whatever it was.

"You have three guesses," he announced. He tried to gesture to you encouragingly with his head, but then, for a split second, his chin brushed against yours. Slightly flustered, he quickly froze again.

For a moment, something changed in your breath. You bit your lip, thinking. His gaze briefly dropped to it.

"Okay, so that’s the first one," you said, taking in more air than you probably needed. You didn’t really understand what was happening, but it seemed like you were running out of oxygen faster than you should have been. "Did you confuse your weapon with a taser?"

"Really, that was the first thing that came to your mind when you thought about a mistake I might have made?" he scoffed. His breath warmed your face in a pleasant way.

"Oh, sorry, but it’s really hard for me to come up with anything when it comes to a genius with eidetic memory," you replied, rolling your eyes. "I don’t know, did you lose some evidence? Something really important?" you suggested, trying to read confirmation from his brown, unusually gentle eyes at that moment. He gently shook his head.

"Now, I honestly don’t know. Okay, this might sound like some soap opera plot, but here goes. Were you supposed to keep an eye on a potential victim and ended up having a passionate affair with them?"

You lowered your voice to a flirtatious whisper as you said the last words.

For a moment, he held your gaze. He met it like an opponent, sending an exciting shiver down your spine. And it wasn’t because of the cold. But then, he submissively lowered his eyes. You let out such a strong burst of laughter that you started to worry if you had accidentally spat on him.

"Spencer Reid, you’re joking with me, right?"

He turned back onto his back again, avoiding looking at your wide-open mouth and amused eyes. You propped yourself up on your elbow, gently nudging his shoulder.

"What kind of... seductress beast are you? Because I don't know how else to call it," you muttered, still shaking your head from side to side. "Wow, I didn’t know this side of you."

"There’s no side like that," he replied defensively, closing his eyes with some embarrassment. "It was... she was an actress who had a stalker..."

"An actress?"

"...and it just happened that way! But it was definitely a mistake. And it wasn’t any... passionate affair, as you called it. I put her in unnecessary danger when we kissed in the pool..."

"In the pool?"

"Oh, why do I even keep talking?" he groaned, pressing one hand to his tightly closed eyes. He suddenly snorted. "Sure, laugh even louder. Gideon and Derek in the next room won't mind if you wake them up."

"Oh, don't change the subject now. You seduced an actress. Was she famous?"

"I didn’t seduce her..."

"So, she seduced you?"

Reid sighed, resigned.

"Well, I’d put it that way," he admitted finally, quietly, with a certain childish indignation, as if he had simply decided to surrender to the onslaught of your questions. He didn’t reveal much, but after a moment, you learned a few important details about the case, and with some... relief, you realized you didn’t recognize the actress’s name. But why relief?

Suddenly, however, the hysterical amusement faded, leaving you with a genuine dilemma. Reid was still lying on his back, avoiding your mocking gaze and comments. Before you could stop yourself, you lightly touched his arm to get his attention. He nodded questioningly.

"I know this might be a very strange and, above all, an extremely personal question, but what does it take to seduce you?" you asked.

Reid froze, his eyebrows shooting up to his hairline.

"What? What do you mean?"

"I just realized that I’ve probably never seen you actively filter anyone. Consciously, that is. Because sometimes it happens, and you don’t even notice it," he opened his mouth to protest, but you quickly covered it with your hand. Confused, he looked down at it. "Don’t even try to deny it, everyone would confirm it. But I’m trying to imagine the kind of person you would lose your head for, and I’ve got a few conflicting ideas. So, I’ll repeat the question. What does it take to seduce you? Asking for a friend, of course."

Reid flinched as if alarmed.

"What friend?"

"My God, it’s just a figure of speech."

He sighed, and the way he shook his head showed a certain disbelief.

"You’re surprisingly hyperactive, considering the time. Maybe we should go to bed?"

"No, I asked you a question," you protested. "Does she have to be pretty? Smart? Probably both, right?"

He looked at you with the same expression—simultaneously embarrassed, disbelieving, shocked, amused, offended, and above all, thoroughly confused.

"I feel like this question is going to keep you up tonight. So, for the sake of your own sleep, I’ll answer briefly. And I don’t care if my answer satisfies you or not." Reid paused, and you waved your hand, urging him to continue. He sighed. "She just... has to seem... interesting."

"Was there any more evasive answer?" you snorted, disappointed.

"Did you expect an entire essay?"

 "Well, honestly, yes. Last time you talked to me for over thirty minutes about bioluminescence and what causes it. You were able to go on and on about that, but not this time?"

You knew by now you were just teasing him, playing with his nerves as if it were an instrument you'd been mastering since early childhood, attending lessons three times a week and slowly climbing the ranks of your musical career. 

Your conversations often felt like a game of ping-pong, with each of you exchanging comments, remarks, observations, and verbal jabs at a pace that was downright wild. Time completely vanished for you then, feeling as though you could carry on such a dialogue forever.

 "Goodnight," he finally said, without much firmness in his voice. Well, that was probably more out of practicality than a strong desire to end the chat. It was indeed late. "I hope I don't bump into you too many times during the night. Or you into me."

 "So, you're already tired of talking to me?" you asked, feigning hurt. You even tilted your head dramatically.

For a moment, he hesitated to reply, his brown eyes nervously scanning your face, a barely noticeable smile tugging at his lips.

 "Quite the opposite," he finally responded. You raised your eyebrows, not allowing yourself to feel satisfied with his words in case they turned out to be pure sarcasm. "So…goodnight."

As a result of some sort of scuffle, you found yourselves in a rather chaotic position. Well, you were definitely taking up most of the bed, comfortably sprawled in the center. He lay more on the edge, somewhere between lying on his back and on his side. Looking at him and his slightly flushed cheeks, which were quite an endearing sight, you suddenly realized the meaning of his earlier words. I hope I don't bump into you too many times during the night. So he did intend to sleep with you on this narrow bed, when there was a perfectly empty one, entirely at his disposal, just beside you? An unexpected choice, but… you weren’t complaining. In fact, you were kind of okay with it. With a slightly enigmatic expression, you leaned closer to him, intending to say something softly.

 Reid perked up, as although he had officially ended the conversation, he was still curious about what you were about to say.

 "Goodnight," you said slowly, inhaling the scent of his freshly washed hair. You should have moved away, giving him space to settle more comfortably, but you wouldn't be yourself if you didn't add, “Seductive beast."

“God, nothing in life will ever make me regret more than telling you about this,” he sighed, genuinely concerned about that prospect.

You let out a snort and were about to mumble something else when he, with resignation, turned fully onto his back. Well... at least he tried. He was so close to the edge of the mattress that it simply ended beneath him.

You shot up into a sitting position, startled by the sudden noise and the chaos that filled the room.

“Spencer,” you managed to gasp, jumping off the bed to check on him.

It wasn't an easy task; everything was submerged in darkness. If falling off the bed itself didn't sound like one of the most humiliating accidents a person could have, adding to it the fact that he had hit his head on the wide dresser next to the bed made it worse. And, as a result, the nightlight had been knocked over and shattered...

Fumbling, you reached for the light switch, and when the room was lit again, you moved to him. Kneeling beside Reid, who was slowly propping himself up, you gently held his shoulders.

"Careful, Jesus, you hit your head so hard..."

He squinted and furrowed most of his face, letting out a sharp breath.

 "Does it hurt a lot?" you asked, carefully inspecting his head and looking for any serious injuries, maybe some blood... but you saw nothing

Spencer looked at you with a sort of seriousness, as if the pain had suddenly faded.

"What else is it supposed to do, tickle?"

For a moment, the room fell quieter, but it was impossible to ignore the mutual sense of relief that things hadn’t turned out worse. His words threw you off a bit; at first, you didn’t fully grasp their meaning. Instead, you focused entirely on analyzing his face, his body language, his behavior. You were afraid he might have a concussion.

"I have absolutely no medical training, but..." you paused, casting another worried glance his way. Reid was slowly starting to shake off the shock and disorientation. "But judging by how quickly your sarcasm came back, I’d say you’re going to be fine."

He let out a noise somewhere between a scoff and a groan.

"Doctor of the year, right here…"

Just then, a loud knock echoed on the door. The door to your room

 “Is someone murdering you guys in there or what?” Morgan’s concerned voice called out.

You exchanged glances—both equally confused and, in a way, slightly terrified. Clearing your throat, you spoke up.

“Well, since I’m the reason this whole situation happened, I guess it’s on me to explain to him how it even got to this point,” you sighed. When he didn’t react, you raised your eyebrows. “No objections? No heroic offers to take this off my hands?”

“Not a chance,” he replied curtly, shaking his head before wincing briefly as another wave of pain clearly shot through it.

You told him, worried, to stay down for a little while longer for his own good.

 “And as my mom used to say,” you added, slowly starting to stand, glancing briefly toward the door. Morgan knocked again—or rather, pounded on it hard enough to nearly take it off its hinges.

Taking your time, you rested both hands on Reid’s shoulders in an almost protective gesture. Completely ignoring the surprised look on his face, you brushed your lips against his forehead.

 “A kiss will make it better.”

taglist: @she-wont-miss @mggslover @kakamixo @nyeddleblog @dylanobrienswife0420 @wmoony

@heddgie @khxna @marauder-exe-old @yujyujj @charleyreid @aristeia29 @kitty-kai @sp3ncelle @pleasantwitchgarden @beesin03 @misserabella

[andypantsx3]

Andy I just had a thought.. Shouto kabedon.. i’m very sane about this

Omg I loooveeeeeeeee this omg!!!!!!! You are a genius!!!!!!! This ask unlocked something inside of my brain; this is barely coherent and unedited but I offer you this heartfelt nonsense in return.

contents: shouto x reader, sfw, implied fem reader, aged-up characters, 1.7k

You tried to ignore it when you first heard Mineta say it.

"Trust me, the babes love it," he'd lisped to his doubtful audience—Kaminari, a befuddled-looking Kirishima, and Shouto, whose face was so impassive you'd actually been under the impression he wasn't listening.

The former members of UA's graduating class of 2X74 were stuffed into Kaminari's new apartment for a party. It was mostly the heroics department, but you'd spotted a few of your fellow general course graduates as you'd passed through the kitchen to grab a drink. You'd come out into the living room to see Mina and Jirou—as well as pretend like you weren't ogling your long-time crush Shouto—but you found you were immediately regretting leaving the safety of that kitchen.

"And you've... done it?" Kirishima asked, eyebrows scrunched.

Mineta made a show of inspecting his fingernails like it was nothing to him—which you seriously doubted. "Trust me, women like assertiveness. This move is plastered all over their romance manga."

You took another sip from your drink. You wanted to pretend like you weren't hearing this, but Mina and Jirou were making it hard, Jirou stone-faced next to you and Mina unsuccessfully trying to filter her gleeful laughter into her own drink.

"Do you think women even know it's a kabedon, if he does it?" she asked, leaning in to whisper.

Jirou looked doubtful.

"He's like, waist height," you whispered back, sighing. "I don't even know if his arm would reach the wall either...?"

"I think it probably looks like he's just trying to hold himself up," Mina said, her grin unholy.

"I pity the woman he's attempted it on," Jirou said drily.

"—you're sure?" Kaminari was saying when you turned back to the boys' conversation, also looking doubtful.

"One hundred percent success rate," Mineta insisted, eyebrows wiggling.

Despite yourself, your eyes slid over to Shouto, like they almost always did, wandering over that handsomely thoughtful expression. It was the thing you liked the most about him—how his angelically beautiful visage was at stark odds with how awkward and kind of strange he was; how he looked like an ice prince but was one of the warmest, kindest people you'd ever spoken to.

You'd been paired for a couple assignments back in school, hung out on the periphery of his Class A friend groups, and had ended up teaching him a fair few things about how to cook and do laundry when he'd asked. He'd even rescued you during one of the many attacks that made up your time at UA together—which was really when your crush hit you full-force.

He'd been so gentle with you, carrying you out of harm's way when your injured leg had crumpled beneath you, and the careful way he'd handled you had been so at variance with the raw, roiling power he'd wielded on the battlefield—the tidal waves of ice that swept up the villains, the towering wall of fire that mercilessly choked off any of their escape points.

You thought Shouto was one of the most gentle, well-mannered men on earth.

He would probably never kabedon someone. He would never need to—people fell all over themselves for him.

"The babes fall right into your arms," Mineta said, raising his voice to encompass the knot of girls stuffed together on the loveseat. "Isn't that right, ladies?"

"I'm going to get another drink, the image of Mineta trying to kabedon me needs to be wiped from my brain," you told the girls, flinging yourself over Mina's legs in your haste to escape.

The kitchen was a welcome reprieve, and you dug around in Kaminari's fridge for another can, letting the cool air wash over you. You studiously ignored that all Kaminari seemed to have in his fridge was a pile of moldering grapes and some mayo.

Can acquired, you briefly considered not going back out into the living room and abandoning Mina and Jirou to their fate. But the pull of Shouto was too strong, and with a sigh you resigned yourself to more of Mineta's lechery.

In the hallway, however, you stumbled into the man himself, coming towards you from the opposite direction. You were struck momentarily dumb by the way the breadth of his shoulders seemed to take up almost the entire span of the hall, the way his fading summer tan looked against the light-blue of his button up. He was so handsome even when he was just walking, it was so deeply unfair.

"Hi Shouto," you said, raising your can in a salute, hoping your voice sounded normal. "Careful in Kaminari's fridge, he's culturing something on his grapes."

Shouto blinked down at you, those beautiful mismatched eyes growing a little wider. "Y/N," he greeted you, though there was a note of something strange in his voice, like there was something weird about you that he hadn't expected.

You wondered if you'd spilled something on yourself like a child, and decided to detour to the bathroom on your way back. How embarrassing.

You gave him a rueful grin, stuffing yourself against the wall so you wouldn't accidentally bump a strong shoulder as you passed, swearing vengeance on your drink if it had betrayed you in this moment—

Except, suddenly there was a hand against the wall in front of you, blocking your passage down the hall. You startled, whipping back around to stare at Shouto, only to find him looming way closer than you had anticipated.

Your back bumped the wall as he crowded you in, his other arm coming up to press against the wall on your other side, caging you inside his reach.

Your mind was so overwhelmed with the sight of him this close—that straight, blade-thin nose, that full, pouty mouth—the light touch of some expensive cologne at his collarpoints—that it took you a second to catch up with what was going on.

Your mouth dropped open when you registered that Todoroki Shouto had just—kabedoned you?—was actively kabedonning you? what the literal fuck—in the middle of Kaminari's hallway.

"Shouto? What—?" you managed, your voice strangled. The air felt like it was resisting you, refusing to be drawn into your lungs.

Shouto's voice was low and intimate as he answered, sending a mortifyingly visible shiver right down your spine. "Is it working?"

You gaped at him, eyes flickering over his serious expression. "Is—what—?"

Shouto shifted even closer, so that his face was a scant two inches from yours. You were suddenly, horrifyingly aware of how close his mouth was, how tall and strong and warm he was over you.

"Do you plan to fall into my arms?" Shouto asked. "Mineta said women liked it."

It was a fight for your life to make the connection over the static in your brain, the lack of oxygen in the air. Mineta had said women would fall for you if you kabedonned them... Shouto was.... kabedonning you.... computation pending...

"You... want it to work?" you asked, words clipped. You felt like any stray movement and your mouth would brush his, and you didn't know if he wanted—it was too strange to think that he might—

"Yes," Shouto replied, his handsome face serious. Those heterochromatic eyes searched over you, trailing over your features like a warm touch. "I want it to. Am I... not doing it correctly?"

Your face heated, and an entire conservatory of butterflies took flight in your stomach. You could not believe what was going on right now.

"No you're—you're doing it right."

Shouto's face was even closer, then, his mouth a whisper away from yours. "Then you have fallen for me," he said, sounding like both a question and a conclusion. He looked like he didn't know what to do next.

You had to suppress a laugh, charmed and mystified and nervous all at once. He was so reliably strange—of course he had taken Mineta's assertions at face value. And he was so straightforward, of course he had implemented the advice straight away. He was so silly, you liked him so, so much.

"I... have," you said, a helpless smile creeping over your lips. "Although it was a while before the kabedon, to be honest."

Shouto blinked, and you could just barely see his mouth grow a little slack in surprise. "Oh," he said, a hint of a shy smile touching his mouth. "Good."

"Yeah. Good," you said, your own grin going wider.

Shouto's eyes dipped down to your mouth, and his eyelashes fluttered. A thrill of anticipation went down your spine, your knees suddenly liquefying, as Shouto leaned back in, and your own eyes fluttered closed.

The press of his mouth was hot and soft—perfect, like you'd always fantasized it would be. He shifted closer, so that he pressed against you, and you had to tilt your head back to accommodate how tall he was, reveling in the strength and the heat of him over you. One of his hands left the wall to thread into your hair as he kissed you, cradling the back of your head like you were something precious, and your stomach swooped in response.

He kissed you boneless, absolutely stupid against the wall of Kaminari's hallway, and it was all your could do to wrap your arms around him and kiss him back. You didn't know how long it was that the two of you stood there, wrapped up in one other. All you knew was you never wanted Shouto's mouth to leave yours again, never wanted to leave the circle of his embrace.

So of course an appreciative whistle broke the two of you apart. You tore your mouth away from Shouto's only to find Mineta standing at the end of the hall, grinning like a wolf. A tiny, lecherous little wolf.

"Nice one, Tododoki," he said, like you weren't even there.

You bristled, stiffening in Shouto's arms as you glanced back at him quickly to measure his response. But the dazed look on Shouto's face pulled you up short, and he looked at Mineta like he wasn't really seeing him.

"You were right," was what he eventually managed. "The kabedon is very effective. Now if you will excuse us, I need to do it again."

A shocked laugh escaped you as Shouto's hand seized yours, and then you were being pulled around the corner into Kaminari's bathroom. Shouto walked you back against the door, an arm coming up just like before, pinning you against the door.

Another pleased laugh was muffled in Shouto's mouth as he took yours again, cupping your face to his. The lock clicked shut behind you.

[chrispotatos]

teaser- matt sturniolo

!Blurb! (i think)

warnings: suggestive, smut (intended)

summary: you've been sexually frustrated and your embarrassed so you act grumpy and don't wanna ask matt for help with your 'problem'

a/n: i come up with random ass shit at 3 am.

"Do you know whats going on over here?"

"have you even bothered to look?"

you and matt were both at target and to no suprise you didn't wanna be there.

"lets go home" you demanded while matt was scanning the shelves for a lego set. "can you wait, im looking for something" he responded vaguely

"we're leaving" you told him.

the boldness of your tone made matt do a double take. "what'd you say?" he asked in a condescending manner, lowering his gaze on you.

it made you nervous and regret your choice of words only in the slightest. what he did doesn't stop you from scoffing and rolling your eyes, walking away with a bad attitude. you went to the car by yourself and waited for matt to drive you two back to his shared home with his brothers.

---

you were laying on the couch and matt was sitting on the wooden floor infront of the coffee table building the lego set he just bought.

in what felt like a random question he asked what you wanted to eat. but you ignored him it's not like he did anything wrong, you just didn't feel like answering him. despite all this pent up sexual frustration, you felt the need to ignore the person you craved most.

"y/n i know you heard me" assertiveness was added to his tone. it made you undeniably wet, the way he exerted his dominace aroused you. im sure he knew that and he probably also knew what was wrong with you; he almost always does

" you gonna ignore me now?" he cuts your phone off and that makes you shoot up from your position "fuck off. im clearly not talking to you, for a reason"

he looked around the room as if he was clueless to who you were speaking to. "who you talkin to like that, cause i know it's not me" his boston accent leaking out onto his words

matt was completely opposed by the way you were acting.

"you. thats who" you fired back. his tounge sucked his teeth "nope. no ma'am. not happening" he grabbed you by the wrist, practically dragging you towards his room "matt stop it. what're you doing?"

You tried pulling your wrist out of his grip and resist as much as possible but you also didn't try hard enough, because this is what you been waiting for.

---

before you know it the both of you were in his room, his hands wondered all over your body.

your backside was against the front of him and he was kissing down your neck. his touch was all-consuming, you were convinced you could have had an orgasm right there. every touch felt electric, his kisses sent shivers all over.

"this what you wanted angel?" he asked.

you nodded your head vigourisly. his hands proceeded to go up your jean skirt and to your soaked panties. his fingers rubbed your clothed clit, earning a whimper from you.

"too bad. wanna act like a brat you get the treatment of one" he removed his hands from the aching heat; growing in your core.

"please im sorry" you sit on the bed watching matt walk to the door of his room "i said it okay. im sorry" you whined every fiber of your being was desperate for his attention, and longing for his touch.

it's been almost a week since you and matt did anything sexual. from his busy work schedule to his tiredness and lack of desire to do anything and vise versa.

"come talk to me when you're actually sorry and aren't being desperate" he shut the door behind him leaving you in his room alone with nothing but your own imagination of where that could have gone but didn't escalate any higher because of the attitude you had all day, damn near all week.

pt.2

a/n: this could possibly have a pt.2 but it could also be left like this. lmk what y'all are thinking.

[mediumgayitalian]

Nico really fucking hates capture the flag.

Well, not always. Last week was fun. Last week was the annual Everyone Against The Stolls (to atone for their crimes), and Nico got to chase Connor around at top speeds, cackling, committing his shrieking and begs for mercy to memory. That was nice. That almost made him forgive the fucker for digging a trench under Nico’s unwelcome mat for him to fall into at seven thirty in the godsdamn morning.

But tonight’s game is boring.

He’s been standing, alone, at the base of the flag for the past forty bajillion hours. He’d raised a few dozens skeletons to spar with at first, since animating them to fight himself isn’t technically against the rules, but that got dull fast. (It isn’t much fun sparring with a partner who doesn’t have a brain. He already has to do that enough with Percy when he comes to visit camp.) He’d climbed the various trees around the clearing, or at least he tried until he got reamed by the dryads for climbing on a manner that was too annoying (?), and tried his hands at a few summoning spells. Nothing held his interest long.

And now he’s just standing, doing nothing, and he’s not allowed to leave. He has to stay in this stupid spot on the off chance that someone comes stumbling over to fight him for the flag.

“You’re our best swordsman, she said,” he says mockingly, beaming the nastiest vibes he can manage in Piper’s vague direction. “We need you on our defensive line, she said. Nyeh nyeh nyeh.”

His checks his watch. He groans. He looks critically over the grass, looking for a softer patch, and when he locates it he throws himself dramatically upon it, groaning louder.

“This sucks!” he yells, to no one.

“Will you shut up!” shouts back the dryad he pissed off earlier. “For the love of photosynthesis! Fuck!”

He bites his tongue hard to hold back laughter. (If he can avoid getting his entire cabin overgrown with prickle bushes again, that’d be great.) “Sorry,” he calls, trying with everything he has to sound contrite. Convincing his father to fight the Titan War was easier, actually. Acting is not his calling.

“Hmph!”

At least listening to see if she’ll come out and yell at him again provides something to ease his boredom. Yes, he’s going to regret bothering her, but in his defense, solo guarding is cruel and unusual punishment. He’d rather sit by an outlet with a fork and see if he can poke and let go fast enough to avoid dying. That at least would be interesting.

A rustling of leaves recaptures his attention, and he pauses.

“Holly?”

When no one answers, which is odd because she’s taken every opportunity in the last hour to either insult him or pelt him with stones, he lifts his head.

“You’re not going to scare me, dude. I had my fear glands surgically removed to become a better soldier.”

Not true. Obviously. But a fun bonus of being the camp weirdo is that no one doubts anything he says. He’s working on convincing everyone younger than him that he needs weekly tributes of chocolate delivered to his door every Friday or the dead are going to take over the world. So far, it’s working.

“Look, Holly, I’m sorry about the zombie, okay, I promise it didn’t mean to sneeze part of its brain on you —”

The rustling sounds again, only this time Nico can see that it’s not Holly’s tree, and in fact she is nowhere to be found. Alarmed, he jumps to his feet, shifting so he’s balanced on the balls of his feet, poised to attack. Is Piper’s plan failing? Has someone actually managed to make it all the way over here without getting (gently, probably, although they lost the last game and Piper gets cranky without dessert) maimed?

The rustling sounds for a third time. This time, an armoured someone stumbles out of the underbrush, tripping over their own foot and nearly landing flat on their face.

Nico has his sword at their throat in a millisecond.

“Wo-oah, Morbius. That’s probably my least favourite sword you could stab in me.”

Nico goes bright red. “I have never wanted to stab you more than right this second.”

Will, chest plate skewed to the right, quiver completely empty, and black paint smeared under his eyes, snickers. He puts a finger on the tip of Nico’s sword and pushes it away from his neck.

“The opportunity was right there, babe. I couldn’t not.”

“You really, really could. In fact at all times, you should remember these words of wisdom: shut up.”

“…Damn. Inspiring.”

Nico rolls his eyes, but the effect is somewhat lessened by the smile on his face and the obvious pleasure in his expression. He’s even feeling merciful enough to accept Will’s kiss, although his sword keeps a good amount of distance between them. (Will’s on the blue team, after all. It would be unprofessional to be fraternizing with the enemy.

…Well, too much, anyway.)

“What’re you doing here? You’re supposed to be with the other archers, sitting in trees and causing havoc.”

Will shrugs, grinning lazily. “I quit. This game is senselessly violent and I’m Against It On Principle. I’m a pacifist, you know.”

“Uh huh.” Nico raises an eyebrow. “I assume this doesn’t count you choking Cecil out in a headlock, this morning.”

Will opens his mouth. Nothing comes out. He closes it again.

“Cecil is my mortal enemy,” he grudges after a moment. “He doesn’t count.”

“‘Course not. Not like you cried for two hours when he went to visit his mom last weekend or anything.”

“Will you — stop saying I cried. I barely teared up, okay. Barely.”

Nico can’t quite force down the stupid grin that pulls across his face, matching Will’s, nor can he resist grabbing the leather straps of his boyfriend’s armour and hauling him close.

“You better not be here to distract me,” he mumbles, leaning close and pressing a kiss to the underside of his jaw, the corner of his mouth. Will hums, settling his hands on Nico’s hips.

“Nope. Cross my heart and hope to die.”

“Drama queen.”

“Excuse — I am the least dramatic, I’ll have you know. I’m a pinnacle of solemnity. I am a shining beacon of stoicism. I am — mmfh,” He trails off. “Okay, doing this now, mhm.”

Nico smiles triumphantly into the kiss. Will, he has found, is very easy to shut up, despite his long-running nickname of Motormouth. It’s almost like he has an off button that can be accessed only by Nico sticking his tongue in his mouth. Nico is doing his civic duty, honestly. He should be compensated for his service.

(‘Course, doesn’t hurt that Will smells, like, really good, all the time, and his lips are soft as hell and he is actually quite the kisser, in fact. That is definitely a fun bonus.)

He smooths his hands over Will’s shoulders, travelling up the sides of his neck and settling in his hair. Will keens, slightly, when he wraps a finger around a frizzy golden curl and tugs, slightly, when he scratches his nails along his scalp. The rush of power at the feeling makes Nico dizzy, and his sword clatters to the ground as he busies himself with more interesting — and important — things.

Like pulling more of those sounds from his boyfriend’s throat. Or making his knees buckle, again, like he did the other night — gods, that was good, it made Will flush scarlet and Nico feel like he was fuckin’ floating, to have Will so needy and touchy and totally at his mercy —

“Free line to the flag! Go go go go!”

Nico startles, whirling towards the sudden cacophony of noises. To his horror, what looks like half the camp, helmets shining with plumes of blue, comes pouring into the clearing, weapons raised, voices mixing in one long, victorious shout. He lunges for his sword, but before he can grab it, two strong arms tighten around his torso, pinning his hands to his side.

Immediately, he knows he’s been set up.

“Oh, you — fucker!”

He feels the curve of Will’s grin against his neck. “First shower privileges for a whole month, baby.” He noses along his jaw, pressing an apologetic kiss to his cheek. “Couldn’t resist.”

Nico struggles, aghast, watching the once-red flag shimmer in Lou Ellen's hold to a bright, shining blue. “I am breaking up with you, you traitor, you Iago, you vixen — ”

Will snorts. He ducks down and pecks Nico on the lips, again, and again, and then shifts to his cheeks, the bridge of his nose, his temples, his forehead, and all over his face, making louder and louder mwah sounds until Nico is laughing, punching his shoulder and shoving him away.

“Okay! Okay. Let me go, you villainous toad. We will discuss how much you’ll have to grovel for my forgiveness after Piper finishes yelling at me for getting distracted.”

Will presses one last kiss to his nose, smiling cheekily before stepping away, heading towards his boasting team. “Enjoy that lecture! Love you!”

“Yeah, yeah.” Nico rolls his eyes, resting his aching cheek in his hand. “Love you too, asshole.”

[miyukisu]

There Ain't No Man Like You .ᐟ

❤︎ | People normally talk it out when they have a feud with someone, but you two? You decide to bury the hatchet by showering together (2.2k wc) ╰ feat. toji fushiguro (jjk) x afab! reader

kinktober entry no. 4 | kinktober masterlist

tags - shower sex, co-workers, reader is also an assassin, toji barges in while reader is showering, enemies to lovers, p in v, p*rn with plot, unprotected sex, creampie, fingering, profanity

minors do not interact

Toji Fushiguro was—to say the least—insufferable.

He was a deadbeat dad with a gambling problem. To be fair, it's nothing new in your line of work. But for some reason, he was downright intolerable.

Perhaps it was the fact he'd look down on you or how he'd seem so condescending with your every move despite being assigned on the same task together.

Or maybe it's because you can't admit that you're down bad for the man.

It could very well be any of those choices. Only God knows at this point.

Of course, as your handler, Shiu knows all this. He knows what goes on between his two favorite contract killers. You'd think he'd be smart enough to separate the two of you by now. But, no.

Shiu was either incredibly dense or the biggest asshole on the planet... well, probably only second to Fushiguro. But that's besides the point.

The job in question was particularly difficult. You admit that if you did it alone—it would have been too risky. But throughout the mission, you seriously wondered if it was better to take the risk or endure the experience that is to be Toji's partner.

For an old man, he was stubborn and uncooperative. At his age he should've learned some manners, but it seems that it has flown over his head.

It didn't make it any better that the mission dragged on forever to the point that the two of you had no choice but to go to an inn for temporary shelter since traveling at this hour wasn't viable.

Add to that the fact that it was a small dilapidated inn with rooms too small for comfort. But it's not like you had any choice. As much as you'd loathe to be in such proximity with that man—a shower and a good night's rest were too tempting to pass up.

────────────

Your eyes scanned the room—not that there was a lot to look at. There was a lamp that barely lit up, a chair that surprisingly had its 4 legs intact, and a single bed. The last one is a problem for future you to handle. For now, you were in dire need of a shower.

Huffing your chest out, you started rummaging through the items in your bag. "I'm gonna shower first."

"And why?" he asks, standing right behind you.

"As you can see, I'm covered in more dirt, sweat, and blood than you."

He scoffs at your reasoning. "Shit. I wonder why."

You stand up with the necessary stuff for a shower in your hands. "Don't be such an ass. It's the least you can give me for being so fucking difficult today."

As you turned to face him, Toji had his hands crossed over his chest with an unamused expression on his face. "I did most of the work," he gruntled.

"Don't care," you say before walking past the man and into the shower. You made sure to swing the door hard enough to get your point across. But you soon regret that decision once you realize how weak the door was. A little more and it would've definitely came off the hinges.

"Shit," you whispered to yourself. You may have kept the door in place, but you fucked up the lock. But whatever, he won't come in for as long as you're in there. And boy did you plan on being in there for quite some time. He can consider it as your way of retaliating against his behavior.

────────────

As you took your sweet time in the shower, Toji was forced to wait on the bed. His leg restlessly bounced as he lost patience. It would have been fine if there was any form of entertainment in this goddamned room, but the most interesting thing was the line of ants climbing up the drab wall.

It pissed him off even more to hear you singing your heart out like he wasn't waiting for his turn, covered in all sorts of disgusting shit.

He groaned to himself. Toji was done waiting for you. To hell with it, he thought as he stood up and made his way to the bathroom.

Toji knocked once—hard. It was enough to bust the door open. Much to your dismay, the inn didn't allot any budget for shower curtains. So when the door flung open, your eyes met—except his eyes quickly trailed down to forbidden places.

"You fucking pervert!"

He held his hands up. "Hey, it's not my fault the door's made out of paper."

"How about you stop looking?" you say frantically while trying to cover yourself up.

A small smirk forms on his face. "Relax. It's not like I haven't seen a woman's body before."

"Well. You haven't seen mine."

"And? You think you're special or something?"

For some reason, his words struck a chord in you—a particularly painful one. You found yourself turning a bit to the side, away from his gaze. "Just get the fuck out."

"Nah. You're taking too long," he retorts.

You were about to say something back, but as you turned to face him again, you were met by his bare form.

"H-how the fuck did you get naked so fast?" You desperately tried to suppress the blush that was threatening to spread across your face as you tried to look away.

"A talent of mine I guess."

His warmth radiated off of him and you felt it getting closer and closer. Toji Fushiguro was really about to shower with you right now and you weren't doing anything to stop it.

You shielded your chest with your arms as he stood behind you.

"Move a bit will you? I need to get under the shower head too." He nudges you forward a tiny bit, but you stand your ground.

"Quit it. I need to rinse off too."

A deep sigh falls from his lips. He decided to move forward himself. You watched as he planted his hands against the wall of the shower, caging you between his thick forearms.

"Don't get too close. I'll get dirty again."

A soft and unexpected chuckle erupts from him. A tingle runs down your spine as you feel his breath against your face.

"Then I'll clean you up," he whispered seductively.

It left you speechless. Normally you'd have a sassy comeback for him, but nothing. You were like a prey caught in a trap—a trap that you so willingly walked into.

Something began poking you from the back. It was warm... suspiciously warm.

"Toji..."

"Yes?" His breath still lingered close to your neck.

"I swear to God... if that's your dick poking me—I'll punch you in the fucking face."

"He's just a little excited. Can you blame him?"

"I thought you said I wasn't special?"

Again, he chuckled. A pair of hands held on to you by your shoulders. His touch was gentle—a stark contrast to his usual rough demeanor. "Aww... did you believe me? I hope I didn't hurt your feelings."

"Fuck you."

"You'd like that wouldn't you?"

You felt so pathetic for not having a response to that. But he was right. You would like that. It was just your pride getting in the way.

His grip slightly tightened as he turned you to face him. The same shit-eating grin was plastered across his annoyingly good-looking face.

"I knew it," he muttered before leaning down and catching your lips in a searing kiss. The water continued to run down your bodies as your mouths collided passionately.

You expected it to be rougher than this, but there was an unexpected tenderness in his touch. One of his hands snaked its way to your nape while the other kept going lower and lower.

He wasted no time, cupping your breast and massaging it between his fingers. He rolled, pinched, and twisted the sensitive bud—earning a wanton moan from you. It inflated his ego having your breathless sounds pour into him like that.

Toji made sure to trace your curves while still kissing you like a depraved man. Your knees buckled as soon as he got to your clit. He rubbed it lowly with the pad of his thumb. That was the only time he pulled away from the kiss. Perhaps he wanted to see how his fingers would eventually pump in and out of you.

Though, he made sure you were ready for it. He diligently saw to it that he was touching you in all the right places, making you wet enough for him.

His smirk got bigger and bigger the louder your moans became. He didn't feel sorry at all for whomever was in the room next door. The walls had to be thin after all.

"I like it better when these are the kinds of sounds that come from your pretty little mouth."

"S-shut up."

"Haha, still a feisty little thing even while I got my fingers buried in your cunt? What a sight."

Those words had you dripping effortlessly. His long fingers easily reached your g-spot. Every drag against your walls brought you closer and closer to an orgasm.

"Shit... I'm so close."

"Wanna cum, hm?" he asks and you nod.

"Gotta beg for it though. After what you put me through, I think it's only fair."

"You're such an asshole."

In response, he brings back his thumb—rubbing your clit and fucking you with his fingers at the same time. You moan like a bitch in heat, quickly losing every ounce of resolve left.

"Fuck. Fine. Please... please just let me cum," you finally begged.

"Wasn't so hard, was it?"

It didn't take long for him to bring you to climax. He had you cumming on his digits as soon as you dropped your pride for him. He was even nice enough to let you ride it out, only pulling out once your fluttering came to a halt.

You watched how he popped his fingers in his mouth, tasting you so shamelessly with a smile on his face.

He took that same hand and gripped the underside of your thigh, lifting it up. "Gotta have my fun now," he mutters.

Looking down, you see him at his hardest. His tip was angry and leaking, ready to find reprieve in you. He figured it would be amusing to drag it along your slit—slap your clit a few times for good measure.

Then, you whined.

It was music to his ears.

"What? Can't wait to have cock in you?" Toji chuckled at you.

"Well then, sorry for teasing you. I hope this," he says, plunging in half of his length. "makes up for it."

You yelp at the sudden intrusion. It wasn't painful, but his girth was something you had to accustom yourself to.

"Mhm, take your time," he cooed.

You hated how gentle he was being right now. You hated it because it made it harder for you to stay mad at him.

Bracing yourself, you held on to him—fingers digging into the muscles of his back. "You can move now..."

And he does. Toji pushes in his entire length, dragging it out slowly and shoving it back inside hard. The way his dick curved up hit all of your sweet spots. At this point, it was impossible to keep quiet.

He wanted to go even faster and deeper. Toji grabbed your other leg, lifting it up and making it so that you had both legs wrapped around his torso.

The large man fucked into you mercilessly. You could cum on his cock 2 or 3 times—he didn't care. He just wanted to reach his own climax.

"Fuuuck," he drawled out. "Haven't felt this in a while."

And it showed. Any semblance of softness you may have seen earlier was gone. What's left was his carnal desire and need.

He fucked you like his life depended on it. You could say he was as desperate as you are.

"Shit. Don't tighten up like that... I'll bust too early."

Nails scratched thin red marks all over his back. It was almost funny to think he was getting more marked up here than he did back in the mission.

Still, those were his battle scars.

For a second time—though it already felt like more than that—you came. A warm sensation flooded you from your core all the way out to your limbs. It was mind-numbingly good—the way he fucked you.

"You came huh? Greedy woman... cumming so much while I haven't."

"Then cum... you oaf."

The smile crosses his lips again at the nickname. "Fine. Take it all then."

Toji powered through the last few thrusts even though he felt his knees giving it out from the sheer sensation of it all. Hot spurts of cum painted your walls.

Heavy breathing along with the running water filled the room. Toji pulled out, letting some of his seed drip down your thigh.

"Guess we have to clean up again, huh?"

©miyukisu do not repost/reupload/translate any of my works on other platforms

╰ author's note This took... too many revisions... too many for my liking...

[ilovetoxicfictionalmen]

SQUEAKY CLEAN

KINKTOBER DAY 5 - SHOW WORSHIP WITH TOMMY SHELBY

Pairing.| Tommy Shelby x fem!reader

Summary.| You cost Tommy a promising deal. He can think of a thousand ways to make you pay, so you’ll start by dropping to his feet.

Warnings.| Dubcon, degradation, humiliation, brat taming, mean Tommy, cruel talking, rough handling, shoe licking.

Word count.| 1.3k

The infamous Tommy Shelby was warned in the beginning. At the mere second of laying his eyes on you precisely. You were a brat, completely up yourself, ill mannered to anything that breathed. But Tommy loved a challenge, reminding a woman of her place, not to mention a woman with a body like yours. 

However tonight, he believes you’ve pushed him to a tipping point. The anger bubbled in his blood like it was boiling stew. His jaw was as hard as stone as he kept his eyes on the road as you approached Arrow House. The front lights turned on, drawing you two in like moths for your punishment to commence. 

This happened little, you feeling no emotions or thoughts besides fear and anxiety. It was splitting your body into two. The anticipation of the long silent drive home was driving you insane. 

There was only ever one thing that Tommy commanded you to stay away from, his business. But you just liked pissing him off a bit too much. In a mere fifthteen minutes, you had found a way to ruin a deal he had been pushing on for months. A deal that would be a game changer for his business.

As he parked the car out in front of your home, your body trembled as you dared to look over at him. He swiftly got out of the car, walking over to your door and opening it for you, like he always did desperate how much of a brat you were. Without looking at you, he held his hand out for you. 

Taking a hold of his hand with a shaking manner, he pulled you roughly out of the car, slamming the door shut behind you as he practically dragged you inside. You winced at the pain, but cautiously refused to resist him. As he opened the front door, he shoved you inside. 

The foyer was empty, you prayed all of the maids were asleep at this late hour. The last thing you needed was another audience for his taming lessons. Tommy huffed out, slamming the door behind him. If the help wasn’t awake already, they would be now. 

As he lit the cigarette in between his lips, he looked you up and down, his expression unreadable. 

His disobedient wife.

He stepped to you, slowly taking your coat off of your shoulders. You stood still before him, your eyes darting around as you anticipated some sudden movement from him. Tommy stepped back and threw your coat to the side. 

“On your knees my love” Tommy softly ordered. 

Gradually, you fell to your knees, your thin dress barely no comfort for your knees against the wooden floorboards. With his hands behind his back, he slowly moved towards you, your eyes on his crotch. But you couldn’t be any further from being right with what you were expecting to happen. 

“Listen well, because I will only say this once. Lean down and clean my shoes with nothing more but your tongue” Tommy said emotionlessly. 

“Tommy” you frowned, immediately going to lift your body from the floor but Tommy was quick to push you back down. 

“When I make an order, you follow!” Tommy bellowed, your hair looped around his hand as he forced your head back. 

You whimpered like a dog, staring at him with wide eyes.  His chest rose and fell through his anger, cigarette in between his lips close to slipping out. As his rage lowered, the tightness of his grip loosened. 

 “My little brat of a wife… Oh how your eagerness to be a thorn in my side had taken you too far this time” Tommy tutted, shaking his head to you. “You’ll forever regret your decisions tonight. I only ever had one rule with you, do you remember what that was?” Tommy asked, his tone dripping with a mixture of disappointment and sarcasm. 

“Don't mess with your business” you whined. 

“Correct” he nodded. His gaze lowered to his dress shoes, he tilted his right foot up, a wicked smirk growing on his lips. “Come on then my little wife, lean down and beg me for forgiveness” Tommy ordered condscendingly. 

“Tommy” you pleaded, eyes tearing up. 

“I won’t tell you again” he grunted, his hands on his hips as he tapped his foot on the floorboards. 

Shamefully, you looked down to his feet and gulped down your dignity. Lowering yourself to his feet, you looked up to him one last time in hope of mercy. Tommy only nodded for you to continue. You forced your tongue out and gave him a small lick. 

“Do better than that my love” Tommy snarled, pressing his foot against your mouth. 

You sniffled out, forcefully keeping your tongue out as you dragged it over the leather. The taste of it made your face cringed and you prayed that no maid would dare to wander at this moment. Slowly, you took his shoe inch by inch with your tongue. You gagged out when he forced you to lick underneath his foot. But your thighs squeezed together.

“Should be fucking grateful that I don’t make you do it during the family meetings” Tommy grunted out before he took a long exhale of the tobacco. 

“Thank you Tommy” you whined, tears rolling down your cheeks, completely and utterly humiliated by this punishment. The smirk that grew on his lips was sinister, this discipline was lowering you down to your place far too easily. 

A long hard spanking would be much preferred by you. But Tommy knew you enjoyed those too much, no matter how black and blue your rear could get. 

You choked loudly as you moved onto his other shoe. Throating clenching tightly as you felt your stomach urge to push out your guts completely. 

“Wait until it’s hunting season my love” Tommy laughed, tilting his head down at you. 

You shot up onto your knees. Before he could react, your arms wrapped tightly around his left leg, your lower body straddling his foot. With your face pressed against his pants you whined out. 

“Please Tommy! I’m sorry! I promise to never upset you again!” you promised sobbingly. 

“Hurry up now my love, if you do a good job I”ll let you fuck yourself on my shoes, how does that sound eh?” He hummed to you, patting your head like you were his pet. 

The vanquish latched onto your thoughts and you lowered your head in defeat. There was no room for pleading, Tommy had his mind set on this and you would be physically forced to follow if you didn’t willingly submit. 

“It sounds good Tommy, thank you” you forced your smile as you slowly slid back onto the wooden flooring. 

Poking your tongue out, you closed your eyes as you tried to quickly take in every inch of the leather. Holding down your gags, your scrunched expression began to hurt as you looked like a fucking dog to Tommy. The urge in your core tortured you as your hips subconsciously humped. the air.

“Every day when I return home, I expect you to be on your knees ready to clean my shoes” Tommy disclosed. 

Your head snapped up to him, eyes flashing with fear as you felt your heart pound in your chest. 

“How long will I have to do this for” you cringed, blinking away your fresh tears. 

Tommy hummed dramatically and took a long pause as he debated his answer. It built the heavy dread of anticipation in your stomach. 

“Until you’re begging to clean my shoes, how about that eh?” Tommy nodded. 

“Tommy please!” You begged, whining like a pathetic dog. Your body shot up in protest. 

“This is no one’s fault but your own. Your place is always at my feet. You understand my love?” Tommy spoke sternly, his nostrils flaring at you. 

“Yes Tommy, I’m yours” you answered submissively, a pout on your face. 

Tommy bent down, his hand patted your head in praise. As you looked up to him with wide eyes, he smiled innocently to you. 

“Good! You can suck me off later to tell me how sorry you are for your behavior tonight. For now, prop yourself on my shoe and pretend it’s my cock eh?” Tommy grinned.

[wandaslovey]

Hey, just wanted to say love all ur mommy Wanda content and can’t help but reread them all the time.

I was just wondering if u would wright something along the lines of reader injuring her leg some how, like a sprained ankle, and is having trouble walking on it but is to stubborn to rest up and not walk on it. Hence mommy Wanda having to take manners into her own hands, however u wish to interpret that.

Possibly with praise sprinkled in plz

If not it’s all good :) 

Her Stubborn Girl

a/n: hi nonnie!! thanks for the request! hopefully this (sorta) lengthy drabble is the sort of thing you were looking for :))

a/n: i wrote this in 45 minutes so please forgive all spelling/grammar errors thaaanks🫶🏻🫶🏻

•·•·•·•·•·•·•·•·•·•

you fumble with your keys, almost dropping them twice as you all but wrestle with them to stick it through the lock. you were tired physically and mentally. you had three in-person college courses every wednesday, and now being 4 weeks into the semester, you were seriously regretting your decision to be an “over-achiever.” your ankle hurt like a bitch. it was still healing from a sprain, but you hated walking around with those stupid crutches. you’d be damned if you drew more attention to yourself any more than your wrapped ankle already gave away. you finally enter your shared home with your girlfriend, wanda. you saw that her car was parked in the driveway, so she must have decided to work from home today. you huff, tossing your keys on the little table beside the door, carefully chucking your shoes off. you hear wanda’s feet padding against the hard wood floors to the kitchen. you mentally curse yourself as you know she’s going to immediately notice that you walked to your classes today with no crutches. you had hoped you’d have time to go and grab them from where you left them last but, no such luck.

“hi sweetheart, welcome h—“ wanda pauses as she rounds the corner, taking in your appearance and the lack of what should be the accompanying crutches. you offer her a weak smile and turn to get a water from the fridge, not in the mood for her to berate you for your carelessness.

“Y/N! did you seriously go to your classes today without your crutches??” she walks up to you from behind, her arm swiftly wrapping around your back to pull you carefully to the table. you sigh, running your fingers through your hair. you knew how sensitive she was when it came to your health and well-being. “yes. my ankle is almost healed,” you say to placate her, though you know putting so much weight on it today surely didn’t do you any favors. you could feel a throbbing sensation shooting up your leg, even though you were now sitting down. wanda takes the seat next to you, gently lifting your hurt ankle and settling it in her lap. “almost healed my ass…oh honey, look at it! it’s all swollen!” her fingers gently caress the area over her careful wrapping job. “you— stay right here.” she says, her tone chiding. she gently sets your leg to rest on the chair as she gets up to retrieve an ice pack.

she comes and sits back down, resettling your foot in her lap and gently placing the ice pack around your now extra swollen ankle. you suddenly feel a little bit guilty, knowing that you hurting yourself hurts her just as much—maybe even more sometimes. you didn’t mean to upset her. your shoulders slump forward, an apologetic look on your face as she looks at you with nothing but sternness. “i don’t take kindly to you not taking care of yourself Y/N. you know that.” your posture falls, the guilt weighing even heavier on yourself as her words affirm your suspicion. “i’m sorry, mommy.” you use her honorific, hoping it would help in smoothing her over.

your apology seems to fly in one ear and out the other as the firm expression remains plastered on her face. “you’re not going to put any more weight on this ankle of yours for the rest of the day. do you hear me?” you look down. avoiding her gaze as you nod your agreement. she grasps onto your chin with her thumb and first finger, lifting your head back up to look at her. “words. i need to hear you say it.” her grip on your chin is firm and you find that your previous defiant attitude when you first came home had all but vanished into thin air. “i won’t put any more weight on my ankle for the rest of the day,” you say quietly, your lip slightly pouty and your eyes wide, full of sincere apology. “good girl,” she nods, releasing her hold on your chin. she takes pity on you, knowing that she had scolded you enough already.

you sit in comfortable silence for several moments, her still holding the ice pack to your ankle. “how about we watch a movie together before i finish up my work for the day? then i can make us some dinner and you can tell me all you learned in your classes today.” you smile, quickly agreeing with her suggestion.

you move to stand, but she grips onto your foot to keep it there, giving you a warning look. “sorry..” you quickly readjust into your seat, remembering your recent promise to not walk on your bad ankle the rest of the day. she stands up, settling your leg back over the chair. “where did you leave your crutches?” she asks, looking around the room for them. you whine, not wanting to see or use those stupid things ever again. “don’t make me use those. i hate those things. they just make it more difficult to move around and they hurt my armpits..” you complain, your voice sounding petulant like a stubborn child.

she rolls her eyes at your tone, a small affectionate smile tugging at her lips before she suddenly reaches down and pulls you up into her arms. you make a small noise of surprise, but she makes no moves to put you down, instead carrying you to the couch that’s in front of the tv. she settles you onto the cushions, lifting both your legs so your feet were resting in her lap.

she lets you choose the movie and you put one on that you’ve both seen many times together. throughout the movie she’ll glance over at you, smiling kindly whenever your eyes meet hers. somewhere towards the end of the movie, her hands begin massaging your uninjured foot but you find the sensations felt more tickle-y than anything else. you squirm slightly in your seat, your foot twitching in her gently grasp. her lips curve into a knowing smile as she takes notice of your fidgeting.

“does that tickle, detka?” as she asks, she lightly scratches her fingernails over the arch of your foot. you press your lips together, unwilling to give her the reaction she was looking for.

“no,” you say stubbornly, barely glancing in her direction as you opt to keep staring at the screen ahead.

“oh, so you don’t mind if i do this then?” her fingers then move up your foot, tickling the sensitive little spaces in between your toes. you try to jerk and pull your foot back but she was quicker than you—using her other hand to firmly hold your ankle in place. a low whine and a stream of reluctant giggles bubble past your lips as her fingers scratch at your toes. “what’re you laughing at, huh? i thought you said this didn’t tickle…” she teases, keeping up her playful assault on your poor foot for a few more moments before stopping.

she leans closer to you, kissing you sweetly as she gives your foot a soft squeeze. she looks at you, love and adoration evident in her gaze. you melt under her affectionate look, feeling that warm fuzziness seep into your skin and brain.

“Y/N, i don’t ever want to see you without those crutches until the doctor gives you the all clear. if i do see that, you won’t like what i’ll have in store for you.” she turns more stern again for a moment, making sure she gets her point across. you decide to tease her a bit, her little tickle attack making you feel a little giddy still.

“like what? you’ll spank me?” you smirk slightly, knowing that that particular punishment isn’t normally so bad.

“oh no.. no, no. i know you enjoy your spankings far too much, my darling. i was thinking more along the lines of writing me 500 lines stating ‘i will take care of myself and obey my mommy.’”

she mimics your expression, also smirking as she knows you and how much you hate writing lines. you groan and her smirk stretches into a victorious smile.

“how about i throw in a sweetener? if you be the good little girl i know you can be, i’ll let you choose your reward once the doctor clears you.” her offer instantly makes you perk up, your eyes lighting up as several ideas instantly pop into your head.

“really??” you ask excitedly, almost bouncing in your place on the couch. she chuckles, nodding her head. “really, really.”

[heavenlyvision]

Bi-Han and a belly budge Bi-Han and a belly budge Bi-Han and a belly budge-

I have answered !! It is only minor mention of belly bulge but it is there !!! I swear :3 Bi-Han is needy and little bit mean, the horny yelled at me last night and I had to get this out of my system or I fear I might actually die,,,,, it is nothing overwhelmingly special, mostly my nonsensical horniness for my baby girl but..... ENJOY <33

Tease

Pairing: Bi-Han x afab!reader

Wc: 1.4k

Warnings: 18+ only, smut, pwp, belly bulge, grinding, minor edging, littlest bit of sub-zero, p in v penetration, squirting, no use of pronouns or y/n, that's all !!! <3

MDNI | SMUT UNDER CUT

This is a unique position for the two of you, in that, Bi-Han does not usually give you control just because you asked very nicely but tonight he was feeling benevolent and when you asked him with pretty eyes if you could, he agreed… albeit begrudgingly.

Though you think he may be regretting his choice now, if his clenched jaw and general strained manner is anything to go by. His hands are held in tight fists by his sides, trying very hard to not touch you like you asked.

He’s being very well behaved,  considering by now he usually would’ve lost his mind and taken you how he pleased. You think his sanity may be wearing thin though, you’ve been teasing him, edging him. His back is flat to the bed, you’re on top, straddling him. You kept your panties on just to torture him, though at this point they are completely soaked.

Your clothed cunt runs along his cock, he grits out strained groans under you, his hands struggling to not grab at you, instead tangling in the sheets and pulling at them. You’ve already eased two orgasms out of yourself like this, panties completely drenched in your slick and cum, Bi-Han’s precum smeared all over the cloth, your lower halves are messy, wet.

The friction is driving Bi-Han up a wall, every time he gets close to finishing you stop and watch his cock twitch under you, his groans frustrated and his eyes angry. He’s not going to beg you, and you don’t want him to, you just want to see how much he’s willing to put up with before he loses control. He seems patient tonight, more than usual anyway.

His dick leaks onto his stomach, you move your fingers to spread it around his tip, your hand splaying on his stomach, his skin sticky. His chest stutters under your touch, his eyes fighting the urge to roll back in his head.

He growls at you, “You’re being cruel.”

“An somehow still nicer than you,” you muse, beginning to drag your pussy along his cock again.

He huffs at you, “I disagree.”

You hum back, “Mmmm, you’re free to think what you want –hah–”

Your cunt throbs for him, soft sighs fall from your lips, your hand reaches to pull your panties to the side, your folds hugging his length. The loss of the barrier between your skin has you both moaning, your grinds becoming quicker, your wetness gushes on him completely, your underwear not in the way to catch it.

Bi-Han’s hands grip your hips, he can’t help himself, his head rolled back on the pillows, lost in the feeling.

“Not –hah– meant to –ah– touch me,” you whine out to him.

“Don’t care,” he grunts back, “Keep fuckin moving.”

You want to but now you’re feeling spiteful, your hips stop, he keeps moving you but you won’t assist, the pleasure not enough for him. He groans at you, exasperated, wound up beyond belief. You smile brightly at him and shoo his hands away; he scowls at you but relents and moves his hands back.

You lean down to him and press a kiss to his lips, you pull back and he goes to chase your lips, when he realises you aren’t going to kiss him again, he gets frustrated. Noises of displeasure leaving him, he grabs the back of your neck and presses his lips to yours harshly, his tongue immediately in your mouth, his lips are domineering. He groans into this kiss; his dick jumps against you.

He parts from you to say, “I’ve had enough.”

You don’t get to say anything, he’s rolling you both over so he’s on top, already positioning his cock at your entrance. He’s forceful, slipping himself inside despite the resistance, your cunt clamps down on him tightly and he falls forward, growls leaving him, his dick twitching violently. All the edging has made him cum just from half his length slipping inside your tight, wet, heat.

“Look what you’ve fuckin done to me,” his tone is angry and strained when he talks into your ear, genuinely annoyed that you had him finishing so soon. He’s so pent up, his dick stays hard and he fucks the rest of it into you, “Got me cumming just from your pussy being wrapped round me.”

You smile at him, proud of yourself for turning him into a sensitive mess.

He grabs the side of your face, “Shouldn’t be smiling, I’m not fuckin happy,” he grunts out before kissing you deeply, taking your breath away with his lips, your mind foggy because of him.

His hips start thrusting, the heavy drag of his fat dick fucking into you is pulling whines from your chest, his mouth leaves you, and he groans at the smug smile on your face. You’re elated at the turn of events and it’s pissing Bi-Han off.

“Stop being so damn happy bout this,” he frowns at you.

“I wan –hah– see how much more sensitive I could –ah– make you,” your legs tangle behind his back, “Maybe nex time –mmph– I tie you up –hah? So, you can keep your hands –nghh– to yourself?”

His lips twitch with annoyance but his cock jumps with excitement, “In your fuckin dreams.” His hips slam into yours harder and your eyes roll back in your head, neck lulling onto the pillows. “Just got my dick in you and you already look fucked out,” he chuckles darkly.

He leans back and rests on his knees, his hands hold your hips to him, his thrusts forceful, harsh, desperate. He’s humping into you, cock barely leaving your cunt before he’s stuffing it back in. His hand presses into your stomach and pushes down, the two of you moan at it, his dick hitting parts of you that only he touches.

“Fucken, look at that,” he groans at you. Your eyes fight to stay open and he grabs your hand, placing it under his on your stomach, “Can you feel me moving inside you –fuck–”

You hum in agreement, not capable of much else right now, “Mhm.”

His cock is bulging under your skin, moving inside you, Bi-Han keeps his eyes on it, mind fucked out and cloudy. His second release so fucking close to him, his hand presses down into your stomach harder, the sensation mind numbing, your cunt clenches on him, your whines broken and borderline sobs, tears slip from your eyes.

He’s smiling to himself, ecstatic at how tight you grip him, at how close you are, especially since he knows just how hard you’re gonna cum for him. Your pussy already creaming on him, the mess you’ve both made obscene, the wet noises of him fucking into you lewd.

“Need you to finish –nghff– need to fuckin feel it,” his voice is tense, frantic, his need is overwhelming him. He’s never fucked into you so desperately before; your edging had set his skin alight.

He humps and grinds into you a few more times before you’re cumming hard on him, thighs completely drenched with your cum, Bi-Han moans deeply at how you squirt for him, his eyes delighted. The moaned sounds you make as you cum get caught in your throat, you’re choking on sobs, cheeks tear stained.

The way you grip Bi-Han has him cumming not long after, he presses his hips tight to yours and grinds his length into you, dumping all his cum inside your cunt, his hips stutter and his moans strain.

“Pretty little thing, taking all my cum so well,” he murmurs out to you, though you’re not really present right now.

He collapses down onto you, turning you both onto your sides so he doesn’t crush you under his weight. You press a small kiss to his skin, “You should let me be in control more.”

“If I’ve learnt anything from this, it’s to not let you have any kind of control again,” he grumbles.

“Admit you liked it,” you look up at him and smile.

He does not budge, “How about next time, you let me tie you up?”

“Only if I get to tie you up first,” you counter.

He scowls at you but doesn’t disagree, too tempted by the idea of tying you up.

“Deal then,” you tease, nuzzling into his chest, this is something he has some leeway for, lucky you.

𝜗𝜚

I HOPE YOU ENJOYED, THANK YOU FOR READING <33 ILY

[depresssant]

'it's an american wedding. they don't mean too much. we were so in love.'

yandere!gojo x reader

synopsis : a simple senior year predicament landed you in a cage you were sure was bound to drive you insane.

it was always survival over luxury for you

amongst the rich kids, you were like a penny in a pile of a hundred dollar bills. seeing people with expensive cars and brand clothes that probably cost thousands of dollars never really mattered to you. you came from a very poor background and it never really mattered to you because there was nothing wrong with being poor. you really couldn't care less since some people were just unlucky. like you.

however, you didn't know what you were doing in a place like this.

everybody deserved the chance to climb out of poverty to live a good life. that was a belief you held onto firmly because it was the only thing that you kept you going, but you did not belong in an estate like this.

but now here you were, and you couldn't regret it more than you did right now.

"what the hell, satoru?"

the bane of your existence tilted his head and furrowed his brows in that manner that captured the hearts of everyone. if only they saw. if only they knew. if only they realized who this wolf in sheep's clothing truly was⏤that this persona of a kind, cheerful, and loving guy everybody knew and loved wasn't who he truly was. he was the devil walking amongst humans, and he was fooling them all.

"what?" he asked all innocently with his teasing grin and flirty eyes that finally weren't hidden behind those sunglasses that he wore everywhere.

"dinner with my mom? what the hell is wrong with you?"

"she invited me over, babe. what was i supposed to do? reject her offer?"

gosh, he was insufferable. he knew exactly what he was doing, but didn't want to admit it. the idea of his new, profound actions had made that pit of unease which settled in your stomach grow with each little skin-crawling thing he did.

this wolf sauntered around helpless sheep, picking them out one by one until he reached his prey. you. the thing was, you didn't know why he was so fixated on you.

that was the worse part.

he was out to get you, and you couldn't do anything but wait.

and satoru had now picked out your mother.

"leave her alone! she's got nothing to do with this!" you hissed out like a feral cat, but you were good at controlling your emotions. this rolling stone just managed to bring out the worst in you⏤the ugly you didn't know existed.

satoru laughed and wrapped his arms around you in a suffocating hug as he smothered himself into the crook of your neck. "relax." his arms tightened the second you tried to move around. it was a warning. "is it wrong for me to meet my wife's mom? besides, your mom is an amazing cook. i can see where you got your skills from."

your mom.

the three days since you hadn't seen her felt like an eternity. was she worried? was she lonely? was she concerned about this “friend” you were having a sleepover with? considering your history, you wouldn't be surprised if she tore up the entire neighborhood looking for you before you were finally allowed to message her.

satoru's attention on you was like working a full time job in which you only clocked out when you fell asleep. even then, he found ways to ruin it for you, either with his helicopter behavior or die hard need to be touching you every second of the day.

your silence was something he didn't like, so he squeezed your body under his hold. that was enough of a threat. holding back a sigh, you reluctantly returned to running your fingers through his silky, pure snow-colored hair that surrounded his beautiful face like a halo. how could a person this beautiful be so vile?

if only you could save your mother from his poisonous claws.

"you know, your mother told me a few things about you."

"... what did she say?"

his sapphire blue eyes flicked up to stare into your eyes, and time came to a standstill when he smiled. he smiled like an angel but loved like the devil. if the devil could even love. you didn't want to admit that every time you looked into his eyes, your breath halted like the world around you. it went against your deep-rooted hate for him, but you'd be damned if you didn't crumble like ash when he set you on fire with his mere gaze.

satoru explained how your mother gushed and ranted on about how hard-working you were, how you were kind and caring, and how you needed a partner who would support you when times got difficult. he teased you about baby pictures of you, and you questioned whether this really was the same scrawny guy you saved from a bunch of bullies.

back then, he looked completely different from how he did right now. he wasn't some hot jock with a body that girls fan-girled over, no. he was a tall and scrawny kid with broken glasses, a busted lip, and bruises that told you he was clearly being bullied by his peers.

that fateful summer day, you were just taking a stroll through the neighborhood when he came tumbling towards you with four kids you knew all too well. ordering satoru to get behind you, you had beaten the crap out of everyone of those guys and patched him up at your home before walking him all the way back to his house.

he had vowed to meet you again, and well, he had done it.

that kid was so much more different than the guy you knew now, and you would be lying if you said you didn't feel a little solemn about it. he had changed for the worse. you should've know that when he made another appearance in your life. those four guys had disappeared.

satoru just followed you around like a bubbly guy trying to rope a grumpy and moody girl into a friendship, but you could do nothing but regret it now. he tailed you around to get evidence of you and your illegal “activities”. to threaten you.

you wished you never even saved him from those bullies that day. the thing was that you got into tussle with the police quite a lot. you got into fights a lot and had landed up in jail for the fifth time before getting released on probation. the deal was three strikes and you would land up in the slammer permanently. you were two strikes in when satoru got a video of you in a fight...

he used it to threaten you.

that was three months into school, and he had wound up with you in an abandoned warehouse near the place holding a party where the two of you were. he proposed his deal leading to you nearly going ballistic, but those three digits dialing the police were enough to make you settle down. 

satoru's deal was simple. if you became his girlfriend, then he wouldn't show the video to the police.

typical rich kid shit.

of course, he would use any means to get what he wanted. you were no exception.

reluctantly so, you accepted, and the seven month of agony begun. the smothering touches, the constant need to be near you, the controlling and obsessive behavior, the tracker in your phone? he was batshit insane!

you were a very patient person, though. rumors and history stated that most of his girlfriends lasted a maximum of a month before he got bored, so you waited. you waited, waited, waited, and waited! that was your fatal mistake.

how stupid of you.

one evening before prom changed it all.

the cool autumn breeze of the california evening blew at your loose strands of hair, the large palm trees casted shadows that fell down the lukewarm sand of the beach as clear and sparkly waves running along the orange and pink horizon crashed upon the shores, singing a faint tale of time.

"marry me."

staring at that blue diamond encased in a gold ring decorated with silver, you couldn't have helped but feel like chains had begun to wrap around you like boa snakes... slowly beginning to squeeze the life out of you.

satoru's eyes were bright and glowing like the colors of the diamond, and they looked up at you sinisterly with that grin that seemed to make the entire world fall apart around you. 

"we'll go to the courthouse tomorrow. who gives a damn about the elders?" his voice was pleading, but there it was. that tone. he spoke like he was stating. not pleading. "we'll have an american wedding."

and an american funeral.

for when he put the ring on your finger, you died.

...

the sun set, and you looked at the snake wrapped around your ring finger. it glimmered under the dim light of the bedroom like the glowing eyes of a predator staring from the shadows. 'you two were so in love with each other that it had driven the both of you insane!' satoru had claimed, but maybe...

maybe it was just you who had gone insane.

[itsuki-minamy]

"LSW - EPILOGUE"

TRANSLATION: NARU-KUN

"Hey, Yata, did you know? Scepter 4 members live in dormitories."

That happened when he was eating with Totsuka at the bar counter. Totsuka suddenly said something as if he had always had an idea.

"What is this all of a sudden? I know... that guy told me."

Yata replied with a loud pout.

One day, half of the luggage suddenly disappeared from the room the two had been living in since the end of high school, and then moved into the Scepter 4 dorm, a statement that made him question his sanity. Was this the trick of the cat ears and earthworms?! He thought afterward as he stomped his feet.

Soon after, Yata also left that room. Every time he went to bed, he would notice the emptiness above his head and couldn’t help but feel nauseous.

"So, since it’s a dorm, does it have a dining room or something?"

"Eh? I don't know..."

"I wonder if he's eating enough food. You know, Fushimi is a picky eater, so I don't think there's much proper set menu in the cafeteria. What do you think, Yata?"

"I don't know! Why do I have to worry about the traitor's food?!"

When Totsuka continued to talk insensitively, Yata got angry and slammed his fist on the counter. The plate bounced off and the cup fell over, flooding the counter with water. Fortunately, Kusanagi wasn't there, so he was saved from punishment.

Totsuka looked surprised and took a step back. Feeling awkward, Yata looked down and pulled both fists, including the spoon in his right hand, out from under the counter.

He kicked the empty loft from below dozens of times above his head and fell headfirst onto his bed, clutching his legs and saying, "It hurts!" He yelled at himself... He just couldn't control his anger. He went crazy for a while, venting his anger outside of himself, but when he felt empty and stopped, something suddenly rose up in his throat and he felt an incomprehensible feeling of regret. Although he said he was sorry, he didn't know exactly what he was sorry for. However, for Yata, it was nothing more than a feeling of regret.

He regretted it. He grabbed a pillow and pressed it hard against his face, gritting his teeth so hard that his mouth cut and regretting it no matter what.

"Ah, if that guy changes his mind and apologizes, and says he wants to go back, we'll bow to Mikoto-san together. He's not the type to bow to anyone, so I'll bow to him, and if Mikoto-san doesn't feel satisfied unless he hit Saruhiko, then he'll hit me along with him."

"Well, if King really hits you, will Yata die?! Are you okay?!"

Totsuka was surprised at how over the top he was, so he flinched and said, "Ugh!" For Yata, coming into contact with Suoh's suspicions is scarier than any ghost story or horror movie.

"I... Still, I'm ready. I won't let Saruhiko get beaten up alone."

His voice was hoarse. However, he clenched his fist tighter, stared at the counter, and finished his sentence.

"Yeah, well, I think it's manly to be prepared for that, but isn't it a little one-sided? I wonder if that's what Fushimi wants."

"...? What do you mean? Don't say things like you already know them..."

He felt strangely angry and glared at him. Totsuka had a calm smile on his face as always.

"This is what King and the Blue King look like."

Then, he suddenly started talking again.

"It's not like they're just fighting each other like you think, Yata. Well, it seems like there's a lot going on in Fushimi's position, and it would be nice if we could talk someday... Even... If I say this now, Yata, you still don't get it, right?"

When he laughed at Yata, who asked indignantly, "Are you making fun of me?" Totsuka raised his hands in surrender and said, "Sorry, sorry."

"Well, remember what I said someday, somewhere. Even if I'm not there at that time."

"Hey, please don't say things like you're going to die someday. That brings bad luck."

When he said that in a particularly grumpy manner, Totsuka simply smiled.

++++++++++

No Blood, No Bone, No Ash!

No Blood, No Bone, No Ash!

No Blood, No Bone, No Ash!

As he excitedly waved his fists in the air, stamped his foot, and raised his voice, his surroundings became warm. Yata looked left and right with teary eyes.

He didn't know where they came from, but before he knew it, sparks were dancing all over the area.

It wasn't that... there was light. All around him, his friends were shaking their fists and chanting the same words in unison, and from each of their bodies light was born, like little lives separating. As if calling out to one another, the light gathered, dyeing the white landscape red as it rose into the sky covered in snow clouds.

"Ah..."

When he looked at his chest, he saw that the mark on his body was also exuding a soft red light.

Another light was born from within him and he let himself be carried away by the light of his companions.

He felt that Suoh's flame still resided deep within the mark that remained on his body. The flame filled his body with a gentle warmth. It was as if the fierce anger that Suoh had held within him as a wild king was dissipating and beginning to crumble.

"Mikoto-san..."

Following the light, Yata raised his tear-soaked face.

"No Blood, No Bone, No Ash! No Blood, No Bone, No Ash...!!"

He held the spot tightly and let out a loud voice as if to let go of the emotions welling up within him.

Looking up from there, he saw a line of armored vehicles with blue markings stopping on the railing of the bridge that connects Gakuenjima and the mainland. He saw a light gently floating above the bridge, moving away from the group of lights of his companions.

Fushimi was holding the same place as Yata with his hand, looking up at the sky with a strange expression on his face, as if he had lost some of his poison.

(Oh, shit...)

Yata cursed in his heart.

Why is he remembering that now? Totsuka-san, did he know he would leave one day? Was he talking about this moment?

Now that he can't do that again, he realized that he should have taken the plunge and asked Suoh what the Blue King meant to him.

He wanted to ask Totsuka what he really meant when he suddenly said something like that and said that Yata still didn't understand, but now that he can't do that again, he realized.

It's annoying for Yata to admit that, but if there's something that can help him, it's...

He's alive. They can still meet as many times as they want, express their doubts and anger, and try to talk.

"No Blood, No Bone, No Ash! No Blood, No... Idiot Monkey! No Ash!"

He doesn't know if he heard the insults mixed with his anger, but Fushimi glared at him.

The two exchanged glances on and off the bridge.

As everyone continued to chant in unison, Yata glared at Fushimi without taking his eyes off. He raised his voice even louder, intending to smash him into the bridge. He kept screaming even when his voice was hoarse, he pounded the ground even when he couldn't feel his legs anymore, and he kept swinging his fists even when he couldn't lift his arms.

[thatlittlered]

an almost kiss | celebrimbor

warning(s): afab!reader (use of the word lady), discreet TROP spoilers

GIF by @suguretos

author's note: this is based on @morganas-pendragons' request for a first kiss, which I turned into an almost kiss because I already technically wrote that and her delicious thoughts on touch-starved brimby... I mean, just look at him

read the rest of "the craft" here

-.-.-

The air is thick from the heat of the forge when you peek inside, expecting to find every smith hard at work, but as the fog clears, only Lord Celebrimbor himself can be seen, completely engrossed in his craft.

 It is a sight.

 You have been inside before, of course, but what could you learn of true creation from a simple visit? Seeing the master Elven-smith at work is a revelation.

 It serves your curiosity to not be discovered, yet guilt eats at you at the thought of taking advantage of his good nature and hospitality to serve your own whims. He looks different here, too, where he is shed of noble duties. The careless roll of his sleeves and his apron serve to remind you that in this little corner of the world, he is nothing but a talented craftsman. A true creator.

 ‘My Lord.’

 The clatter ceases once you make your presence known. A sharp tool you could not possibly think to name rests in his hand, but he quickly lays it aside when he looks at you. The lines of dedication on his face melt away as he smiles.

 ‘My Lady.’

 ‘I am sorry to have startled you.’

 ‘You haven’t.’

 He dares not move, dazed to have you here when he has been absorbed by the very notion of you for hours – days even. It almost makes it seem possible to will his desires into existence. How long need he think about your touch before that too is bestowed upon him? He will offer the time, however long it may be.

 He wonders briefly how he might look to you now. The last member of the House of Fëanor, renowned smith and Lord of Eregion by his own right, caught by surprise and rendered speechless by an offer as simple as your company. You, on the other hand, seem to always be at ease, always drawing nearer.

 ‘I am sorry to disturb your work as well.’

 ‘You aren’t.’

 ‘To disturb you then.’

 ‘Impossible. I was the one to invite you here in the first place, was I not?’

 ‘Oh, but that was an arranged visit. I come now of my own volition, that is an imposition in itself.’

 ‘I only regret that you’ve caught me unprepared and ill-mannered.’

 ‘I don’t believe you could ever be caught ill-mannered, my Lord.’

 ‘Perhaps it is the delight of your presence that ensures it then.’

 His laughter eases the years away from his face and you wish to tell him that. You wish for him to know your thoughts as plainly as they come to you.

 ‘You’ve such a kind and earnest smile, Lord Celebrimbor, as is all else about you. Almost like a warm glow washing over us, akin that of Laurelin itself.’

 He laughs again – bless the Valar! Bless the honey of your mouth and the sharpness of your mind and whatever he has done to earn the gift of your appreciation, of your mere thought to compare him of all elves to the gold tree of Valinor, but oh, curse it too. Curse that he cannot ever find within himself the words to reciprocate, in spite of all the nights he lies awake to thoughts of you.

 How can someone so skilled with a hammer not possess a trace of the skill of the tongue? You must teach him. You must make him worthy of you.

 He watches in silence as you look around. A tentative hand comes to trace the intricate carvings on the furnace.

 ‘Everything in your city seems so carefully crafted.’

 ‘Well, I suppose I have an eye for detail, given my work.’

 ‘Undoubtedly so, but I think it’s much more than just that. It is a labour of great love and dedication to mind such details.’

 ‘A true craftsman recognizes nothing is ever negligible, despite how it may seem. Even from sand, comes glass.’

 ‘What a wise thing to say,’ you turn to him, ‘you truly are most interesting, Lord Celebrimbor.’

 ‘I can only hope to keep up with you, my Lady. You most certainly surpass me in both words and wisdom. Your company is a blessing.’

 ‘As is yours.’

 Your hand is a comfort unlike any other when it reaches for him. He has not been touched in eons, but even if he had, it would not compare. His own hands are filthy with remnants of his work and it brings him shame to dirty such pristine skin. The Valar must have loved you as well, for they, superior creators as they are, ensured your beauty would reach even to your fingertips.

‘Would you show me what you were working on?’

‘Nothing exciting, I fear. I was only cutting out some pieces of emerald from their cluster.’

 ‘How can that not be exciting? Cutting a brilliant, precious gem from what was but a mere piece of rock not long ago.’

 You see as he does. The beauty of things. Their importance. The dark green rock sits large and proud on his workbench, cleaned of any remnants of the earth that birthed it, yet still a long way from its final form. He senses your enthusiasm in the hesitance with which you approach.

 ‘It is mere jewel-craft. Petty work. I aspire to larger projects now that I’ve been provided with a forge suited for them. I have you to thank for that.’

 ‘Hardly. It was the High King’s wise foresight to recognize that your gifts would be of much use in the fight against evil, and the work of Herald Elrond’s persuasion to make it possible.’

 ‘Ah, Herald Elrond does indeed possess quite the persuasive tongue. It is to be envied.’ And envy it he does, especially so when Elrond visits and spends your shared dinners conversing you whilst he himself can only gaze lovelorn. ‘But, please, do not undermine your contribution. You have been the most insightful of councils. I… I, for one, am glad to have you here.’

 For the first time in the weeks that you have known each other, he finds the nerve to approach you first. Not as your host, but as your… friend. It helps to see you distracted by the ore in front of you, too entranced to notice he is studying you in return.

 ‘Do not worry, it is not fragile. You may touch it if you’d like.’

 Your daring hand springs forth.

 ‘It is beautiful.’

 ‘It will be more valuable once it’s cut.’

 ‘More valuable, perhaps,’ you hum, ‘but not more beautiful. I believe the colour is the same as your eyes.’

 Your honeyed mouth renders the elven-smith incapable of sensible thought. You could ask him to cut off his hand and he would happily oblige you, let you pick the knife even. Anything to draw the praise you so generously give, even though he tends to think his eyes are small and beady and their only possible use is looking at you.

 That is why;

 ‘You should have it then.’

 A breath is released. This is not quite the facile manner of speech he had hoped to master. Foolish, traitorous mind going hand in hand with a foolish, traitorous mouth. You, in all your benevolence, simply blink in surprise. Teach him! Teach him how to speak his love.

 ‘I couldn’t possibly.’

 ‘I’m sure you appreciate it far more than any other would. If you want it, I wish for you to have it.’

 ‘You are so generous, my Lord, but whatever would I do with such an ore? Its beauty is undeniable, but I am no craftsman.’

 It is quite a large rock. Childish embarrassment rushes through him, the kind he has not felt since he was but an elfling apprenticed to his father and found comfort in his arms when he was brought to tears by his uncle’s temper.

 Perhaps being in love is a childlike, vulnerable sentiment in itself.

 ‘A piece then.’

 He does not await your answer. The tool is large and sharp in his talented hands. The piece he cuts is roughly the size of your palm as he presses it inside with reverence.

 ‘There you go.’

 You inspect it with a caress of your lovely finger.

 ‘I can polish it if you’ve changed your mind.’

 ‘No. No, it is perfect just like this.’

 The sunlight is bright and warm as it pours from his window and you take the opportunity to hold the piece up against its rays, revealing hues of forest green. The light reflects off it for a moment, drawing your attention back to Celebrimbor. He, too, looks glorious under the sun’s cast. You wish to study him further. To know all the markings of his face. He wishes it too, so he does not draw back when your feet bring you closer, and allows you to hold up the stone again, this time near his eyes.

 ‘I was right then; they are the same colour.’

 Perhaps being in love is a glorious sentiment instead. The gentle and warm embrace of affectionate words. No one has spoken of his eyes before. No one has come this close either. None but the wind that he can recall. All his memories and senses have been replaced by you, as if he was brought to existence by your meeting.

 All these things, he might never find the words to tell you.

 You do not mind.

 You care only for his kind soul, his emerald eyes and the soft beating of his heart under your palm. Your heads bow together as if in silent communication, foreheads and noses touching so that you might come to breathe the same air. An almost kiss.

 Does he remind you of the gold tree now that your touch has eased the years off his face, and your proximity has once again brought forth the gleeful radiance of his smile? Always, yes.

 An almost kiss, and a joy short-lived when his assistant decides to interrupt you.

 ‘My Lord.’

 You do not fly apart, but separate slowly, painfully instead.

 ‘Thank you, Lord Celebrimbor, for your gift, and for your company.’

 Mirdania lowers her head as you take your leave, perhaps in respect, or, perhaps, in embarrassment. For you, there is none. Not for Celebrimbor either, when he is left gazing at the shadow of you that remains. Her words fall on deaf ears.

[livesworthlivingau]

Lives Worth Living Chapter 0

CW: Hospice Care/Deathbed

(It's been years since you were all last together. The days of you traveling together had long passed, and now your lives had all settled into their own places. You and Isa were now married and had moved in together in Jouvente, where you often helped Isa at his wonderful little Tailor shop. Mirabelle had moved to Bambouche with Bonnie and Nille to open her own House of Change and spread the gift of her belief with all those who would like to accept it, and finally Odile... a world renowned professor on the theory of craft and its various applications... and one we would soon lose as she laid on her deathbed.)

(It's nice to see everyone again after so long, though the circumstances in which you find yourselves does make it a bit awkward. You all sit silently in the somewhat familiar living room of the famed researcher, who was spending her last days at home in hospice care, other than Bonnie and Nille, the former of which frantically working in the kitchen as the latter supervised. Bonnie never broke the habit of trying to solve everything with snack time, though to their credit it did work a good portion of the time.)

(After what feels like an eternity of waiting, no one even knowing where to begin with what to say, just waiting on the doctor to give the go ahead, they finally exit her room and approach our gathered little family.)

"She's ready to see you all now." (They say, with a trained, soft tone, the voice of someone who cares but sees this far too often to let themselves care too much... as if acting in a play, you think to yourself almost nostalgically...)

(As the other two are collected and you all crowd into the room, stifled sobs and gasps fill the air, seeing the once so well kept and excellently postured researcher of your group, reduced to such a fragile state.)

"Gems alive, you all need to work on your poker faces." (She rasps out in her weakened state in a light hearted manner, still proving to be the most mentally hearty, even in the face of this.)

"Sorry M'dame Odile, it's just hard to see you without a ruler in your hand, shouting at kids to get off your lawn." (Isa chimes in through his uneasy voice, trying not to choke up as he speaks. Despite being such a big loveable oaf, he was always the softest out of all of us.)

"And you, our own little head housemaiden, I know that look, and don't even try it... there's nothing to heal, nothing to fix... it's simply my time." (Odile said, shocking Mirabelle out of her thought spiral. Even in her final moments she was still better at reading us all than ourselves, and just as blunt in spite of that.)

"I-I made your favorite, Dile." (Bonnie stammers out, fighting back a wave of tears as they hold up a plate of Onigiri filled with pickled plums, as fresh as can be. We all know she won't be able to have any, but the gesture alone was enough to bring a bright, genuine smile to Odile's face.)

"Oh Boniface... come here dear." (Bonnie almost moved faster than could be seen to the naked eye, burying their face into Odile's body as they gripped her in such a careful but loving hug, unable to stop from sobbing now while their grandmother figure just rests her pruned and shaking hands on their back.)

"Well... you must be simply dying to chime in with some horrid pun by now." (You find your eyes locked with hers suddenly as her words rolled out towards you, almost feeling like a deer in headlights since you always did prefer the background after all.)

(You must have something for this, you can't miss your moment in such a grim time.)

          "I'm too lost in regret for never figuring out your top secret research topic."

          > "Simply dying huh?"

          "Just desperately trying to figure out how to start looping again."

"Oh dear, it seems your incessant word play has rubbed off on me, the horror." (She teased in her familiar dry way, though it's still a nice moment as you both share a half smile, leaving the rest unspoken, as there was no need to say it aloud, you both already knew all there was to say.)

(You find yourself tuning out for most of the rest of this, after all, you had your moment already, and it was all the both of you needed, everyone else could have theirs now.)

(You don't know how much time has passed, but a harsh cough suddenly snaps you out of it. Odile rasps sharply for as much air as her failing lungs could manage, sighing it back out as she takes a moment to collect herself.) 

"... It's time... No looping our way out of this one, huh Siffrin?" (She tries to smile, but she was too weak to hold it for long. You return one in kind as you feel a tear start to pour down your cheek, almost wishing you could still at this point. You simply walk beside her and take her hand, Bonnie and Mirabelle having taken the other already and gripping it as firm as can be without causing her pain, Isabeau soon joining and taking both your and her hand in his own massive one.) 

(Time slows, each second getting longer than the last, Odile's eyelids getting heavier and lower, it only takes a few moment, but we were all there, holding on tight, lost in an endless, painful moment, a sharp pain through your heart as you lose one of your closest family members... when you start to feel a... tug... on your... sto-)

"FRIIIIIN! FRIIIIN WAKE UP! WE DID IT! IT'S TOMORROW! NO MORE KING! NO MORE LOOPS! WE CAN GO GET MY SISTER NOW!!"

[sunlighthroughthe-ashes]

it must be so hard to be seokryu.

to have always been told that her story must include success or it means nothing: that vulnerability is a weapon that will always be wielded against her. to have been taught that love is earned and not freely given.

this is why she pushes seunghyo away after her first instance of rejection — because she feels as though she needs to "deserve" his love. that she has to be good enough to receive it without guilt. but what does worth have to do with living and loving?

seunghyo doesn't love seokryu because she's smart or because she always succeeds. he says it himself: he loves her because she's seokryu. it's true that nobody can live off of love — but nobody can breathe properly without it belonging in your body, either. without it life becomes tasteless — rich color turns into regret. do you truly measure a life by its metre of success — or by the sanctity of your personal bonds? what will you remember in the final dark — the dearness of someone's face; or the degrees that you won?

to be seokryu is to swallow your own want like spilled blood because you think no one will ask for the scarred silence of its searing. but seunghyo does. and he always will.

i also adored the conversation between dongjin and seokryu. it reminded me of these lines by naomi shihab nye: "i missed him terribly, / though i could hear his even breath — and we had such long and separate lives ahead."

siblings can often be so estranged from one another — caught in the complex schematics of family suffering. but sometimes they can get through to you in a way nobody else can — see you in a manner nobody else ever will.

this episode was about personal connections: what it means to have them with the pressures of an ordinary life.

[justpeaxchy]

'So My Darling'

A/n: I haven't finished my other wip's yet, so in the meantime, I decided to write this rq. Enjoy! 🐢

Warnings(?): none!

Hiccup x !fem reader!

-You realize the feelings you have for Hiccup aren't what a normal 'best friend' should have.

The day was coming to a close, the sun delicately edging the clouds in an orange tint, with a faint pink glow making itself visible amongst the remaining bright colors. You loved sunsets, to say the least; the sight brought a small sense of comfort to your mind whenever endless thoughts seemed to pour in, which was partly happening to you already.

There wasn't much of an opportunity for him to go far anymore, but your search for the past twenty minutes could've attested otherwise. Thinking you had used up all of your chances for finding him, your hopes were quickly revived as you finally spotted him a bit of a distance away, sitting comfortably on the edge of a nearby cliff side. You heaved a light sigh of relief, signaling for your dragon to land on the same area.

The very second your feet touched the ground, you spoke loud enough for him to hear: "And what do you think you're up to, Chief?" You suppressed a grin when his head turned to get a better view of your approaching form, a ghost of a smile tugging on his own lips.

"Oh, nothing.." Hiccup shrugged, "Just thought I should try a new...hideout. I'll give it to you, though, you found me in the same day I came here..!" An amused glint sparkled in his eyes, emerald iris's following you as you went to sit down next to him with a dramatic sigh. Toothless was off playing with your dragon as soon as you both arrived, the tree branch they suddenly found being the very thing that kept them entertained as they were engrossed in tug of war.

"Yeah...I think twenty minutes is a bit too long for me to discover your hideout.." You muttered, Hiccup still being able to hear every word you said above the passing breeze.

"Well, it's nice to know I'm on your mind that much." He said, sarcasm practically dripping off his voice. His words would be something he regretted, however, when you abruptly jabbed his side with your finger from where you sat. "Okay, okay, I take it back!" He raised his hands in surrender as you silently threatened to do it again, nodding in satisfaction when he admitted defeat.

"What a shame...you keep talking like that and you might be here all by yourself again.." You examined your nails as they suddenly became of more 'importance', using all the strength you had left in you not to smirk at the dramatic gasp Hiccup did.

"Oh, so it's like that now?" He straightened his posture from where he sat, his gaze not yet removing itself from you.

"Hey, you started it with your sassy attitude the moment I came up here." You shrugged.

Deciding to return the same jab you did, although it was much lighter than yours probably was, the Chief poked your shoulder, "Me? Sassy? You're the one who's been staring at your hands this whole time and not even looking at me once."

No longer hiding the playful smile that traced your lips, you spoke in a nonchalant manner: "Correction; it was my nails. Not my hand...sort of."

Hiccup faintly rolled his eyes, still pointedly keeping his fixed gaze on you, who was still not returning it. "Will you at least look at me, then..?" His voice was slightly softer than before, the action briefly taking you aback. Since you were known to give in easily when it came to him, you sedately started off with a glance in his direction before fully turning towards him.

"It's nice to know you want to look at me that much." You said, ignoring the exiguous warmth that dusted over your face. It was becoming increasingly difficult not to smile when you noticed his own lips pull upward in fulfillment.

"There. That wasn't so hard, now was it?" He spoke gently, although a hint of amusement was clearly heard by you when he noticed his own words were repeated.

You, who were so observant of Hiccup. You, who were one of the closest people he claimed to have by his side. People often assumed that the relationship you both had was one of a sibling dynamic; it was starting to rub off on you in the wrong way. Growing up on Berk, your attention would somehow always land back on the skinny teenager who tried to prove himself - over and over again. Despite that, you took it upon yourself to really know him, to know who Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the third was. You hadn't expected to get this close with him, though.

If anything, he was the first person you had gotten into a genuine friendship with. There were others your age that you would spend time with, but it was different when Stoick's son came to be around you. You witnessed his bravery, his courage, his selflessness, and his determination when he discovered Toothless. It was always there, but it seemed to be stifled out by the whole village with every attempt he gave to show it. You, however, saw all of those traits - especially when you watched him defend his tribe that always looked down on him. He lost part of his leg because of it.

You were the only other person who knew about Toothless in the beginning, mostly because you found him trying to track the Night Fury when he shot him down, and he had no other choice but to practically beg you to keep the dragon a secret. You were reluctant, not knowing what the outcome might be, but you agreed nonetheless. You became more glad with each passing day that you did; it allowed the opportunity for your friendship to grow, to blossom and sprout into what it was now. However, one burning question still remained in your mind concerning that: what was your guy's relationship?

The immediate answer would be close friends, siblings that aren't blood related, two peas in a pod, everything a friendship should be.

Was that what you wanted?

You witnessed his sarcasm, his caring side, his good-natured heart, his tenacity, and certainly his stubbornness. He was complex, more than meets the eye, and yet he was also very simple to read when inspected close enough. He was like his map; there was always something more to look at when it came to him. He expanded on those traits of his as he matured into an adult, carrying the burden of his father as he became the Chief of Berk. He always reminded you that he was thankful to have you with him through it all, and you were as well, but something in you longed to be recognized as more than a best friend.

You didn't understand why, when, or how it started; that feeling which would always pick at the back of your mind. It grew with you as you left your teenage years, leaving you clueless as to what you were going to do for it.

"Actually, it was a bit hard...considering how you were acting." You muttered, sarcasm coating each word.

Hiccup lightly shook his head, briefly rolling his eyes as he shifted more comfortably in his spot next to you. "Okay, okay, enough of both of our attitudes.." He looked out at the sky around him, the mixing colors of orange and pink creating an ethereal sight while he talked lightheartedly. "So, to what do I owe the pleasure of having you come here?"

Now it was your turn to roll your eyes as you kept a subtle gaze in his direction. "No need to sound so weird about it.." Your hand almost reached out for his, but you forcefully told yourself not to carry out those actions with a faint sigh. "I only wanted to...see what you were doing is all."

Hiccup's attention flickered over to your hands that had now started fidgeting, a gentle wind greeting the two of you from where you sat. "Hm. I can tell something is on your mind, y'know... Are you sure that's it?"

You took a deep breath in, relishing in the weather that seemed to be just right; it wasn't too cold like it usually was, but there was enough warmth to make it pleasant enough to stay outside for a longer period of time. Similarly, you often reminded yourself to be that way towards him; you wouldn't allow yourself to be too close with him in that manner, as the cold was barely noticeable, leaving a clement touch to those encompassed by it. However, there was also the warmth. The warmth that provided the comforting embrace of amiability, a distant affection that was still noticeable from afar. The heat balanced out the frigid air.

Nonetheless, the main question still stood: would he let you in? Would he let you in the unspoken of area in his heart that would've made you more than a best friend? The thought always came with a certain emotion of fear; fear that your friendship will collapse into mere dust if you barely mentioned what you truly felt.

"...Trust me, it's nothing important." You mumble, trying to sound as if nothing were bothering you. What came next was a little unexpected, though.

Hiccup slowly moved closer to your hand, gently setting his own on top of it as he tenderly gazed at you. "I don't think that's entirely what you mean..but I won't force you to say anything..." He paused, glimpsing at his hand as it soothingly held yours. "...Let me know when you're ready, okay?"

The Chief: so full of compassion and empathy; dynamic and firm when he needs to be, one who leads the people with courage. He was staunch, persevering, and everything else a leader needed to be. Oftentimes, he didn't even see that in himself, the very flaw he couldn't seem to get rid of. You wanted to remind him, despite if you already did, that he is those things. He is brave, he is strong, and he will continue to become a great Chief for Berk. In that moment, you earnestly wanted to be the one to tell him that, to be by his side when he thinks he can't do it, and to be the one he could find solace in.

To be recognized as more than a best friend.

"...Yeah, I will. Don't worry.."

Much to your surprise, Hiccup didn't let go of your hand, only giving you a small smile before he started rambling on of all the duties he was now getting used to. He may not have known, but you silently acknowledged that you really did have feelings for him, ones that probably wouldn't be going away for a while.

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