#I wonder if she had anything to do with it all or if she just knew from Silverwolf's script and is fucking with us

[minswriting]

MARKED TERRITORY - A.H x Reader x S.R

About: After that fateful encounter in Hotch’s office, a few weeks later you’re all on a case. Spencer decides he’s had enough waiting and visits yours and Aaron’s hotel room.

Warnings: NSFW, MDNI, threesomes, blowjobs, oral (f), fingering (f), masturbation (m), dom!aaron, switch!reader, switch!spencer, loss of virginity (spencer’s), talking through it, boys kissing, etc. NOT PROOF READ because this is 5k of PORN.

A/N: This is part two of Unknown Territory! I just wanted to make a comment and say that I do not ship hotchreid but I do fantasize about getting fucked by them both while they also fuck each other in front of me. So live your slutty truths homegirls and let the demons consume you. If you don’t like, don’t read! Don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say it at all! Border was made by my homegirl @esote-rika because I love her.

Word Count: 5.3k words

After that fateful encounter that night in Aaron’s office, you could not stop thinking about it. The way you felt while Aaron was pounding into you, the way Spencer’s cock felt in your hand, the way your lips felt on Spencer’s, you wanted nothing more than to do it again. You wanted Spencer’s cock inside of you so badly. It had been a few weeks since the encounter, everyone had been so busy with cases upon cases that none of you were able to really sit down and discuss anything.

You only had time alone with Aaron which wasn’t really surprising as the two of you had already a pretty good dynamic going on. However, one night you had whined to Aaron about how much you wanted Spencer, and Aaron couldn’t deny that he wanted it too. The way the three of you meshed well together just seemed…natural. It was inevitable that the three of you would end up sleeping together.

So you had spent the past few weeks teasing Spencer—small compliments about how good he looked in his sweater and lingering gazes into each other’s eyes. Aaron would pat Spencer’s shoulder when he did well, praising him for the good work he’d done. And you would rest a hand on Spencer’s thigh occasionally when no one was looking, causing the boy’s breath to hitch.

It was no wonder that one day, while on a case out in Los Angeles, at the hotel, Spencer came to yours’ and Aaron’s hotel room dressed in nothing but a thin pair of pajama pants and a t-shirt. Completely out of the ordinary than his usual sweater vests and cardigans that he usually wore. When you had opened the door, freshly out of the shower in a silk nightgown, Spencer invited himself into the room, looking at you and Aaron, sitting leisurely against the bed's headboard, reading a file.

“You guys are unfair,” Was the first thing to leave Spencer’s lips after he had closed the door behind himself.

Aaron quirked an eyebrow, looking at Spencer. “How are we unfair, Reid?” He asked in his usual velvety voice, tilting his head ever so slightly.

Spencer glanced at Aaron and then at you, not-so-subtly checking you out. “I-” He paused as he tried to collect his thoughts, furrowing his eyebrows. “You guys have been…teasing me since that…night,” He said weakly, meeting your eyes.

You let out a tiny giggle, unable to help yourself. “What night?” You asked, feigning innocence. “You’ll have to be a bit more specific. There are many nights in a year.” You were standing next to Spencer.

Aaron hummed in agreement, closing the file and standing up off of the bed. He walked over to the two of you. “She’s right, Reid, you’ll have to be a bit more specific,” Aaron said in a teasing tone.

Spencer let out a small whine of frustration, realizing that the two of you were going to keep teasing him. “T-that night,” He swallowed, feeling dizzy. His heart was pounding as the memories of that fateful night roamed around in his brain rent-free. “When we-” He stuttered. “When you-” Spencer let out a groan in frustration. The only thing making you guys take pity on him was the obvious hard-on that Spencer was sporting, his cock straining almost painfully in his pants.

“What do you want, baby?” You asked softly, putting a hand on Spencer’s shoulder.

He looked at you with his beautiful brown doe eyes, licking his lips. “You,” He whispered. “And you,” He looked over at Aaron.

You gave Spencer a hum of acknowledgment, moving your hand to graze his chest. “What do you want from us?” You asked gently. Aaron was watching the interaction with a small smirk on his lips.

Spencer let out a shaky breath as your hand moved on his chest. “I-I want to learn,” He whispered. “To please you, to feel you.”

You glanced at Aaron, biting your lip in a small question. He simply nodded his head at you, a subtle sign for you to keep going. You moved your gaze back to Spencer. “So you want to lose your virginity, Spence?” Your tone held that same gentleness from before, giving Spencer a sense of comfort.

He nodded his head, looking at you with parted lips. “I-if that’s okay,” He whispered, looking at Aaron. He wasn’t entirely sure what your dynamic was. Whether the two of you were in a genuine relationship or if you were just being intimate with one another. You didn’t really know the answer to that either. You just knew that what you and Aaron had was enjoyable and that’s all either of you needed to know.

Aaron approached Spencer, standing behind him, causing Spencer to be entrapped in the middle by the two of you. “You want to fuck Y/N?” Aaron murmured into Spencer’s ear, sending a shiver down the genius’ spine. “Want to pleasure her as well as I can?” Spencer nodded his head again. Aaron tsked, putting a hand on the back of Spencer’s neck. “You need to use your words.” He commanded.

Spencer let out a tiny whimper, unable to help the noise from escaping his lips. “Y-yes,” He stuttered, maintaining eye contact with you.

“Good boy,” You replied, giving Spencer a small smile as you praised him. You saw how Spencer’s pupils dilated from the praise and how his cheeks reddened more than they already were. You grabbed Spencer’s collar, pulling him towards you as you placed your lips on his. The two of you kissed one another deeply and hungrily, just like you did a few weeks ago. And after a few moments, you pulled away. “Do you want me to stop?” You asked breathily.

“Just the opposite,” Spencer replied hurriedly.

So you kissed him again, this time with more passion as your hold on Spencer’s collar loosened. Your lips moved in sync as you bit his bottom lip, silently asking for permission to explore his mouth with your tongue. Spencer parted his lips and made a soft noise, allowing you to do so. Your tongue explored him, tasting the inside of his mouth.

After a little while, you pulled away to look at Spencer. Aaron turned Spencer’s head to the side, immediately attaching his lips to the genius’. You watched for a moment, seeing how Aaron and Spencer kissed one another quite hungrily. You couldn’t help the way your thighs clenched as you felt your pussy throb at the sight. You licked your lips as your hands trailed along Spencer’s torso, reaching the waistband of his pajama pants.

Spencer let out a small gasp in the kiss with Aaron as he felt your hands pull down his pants, his cock springing free from the confines. He was already so hard, his cock red and angry. Being the kind and amazing person that you were, you dropped to your knees in front of Spencer. He pulled away from the kiss with Aaron to look down at you, his brown eyes wide and blown out.

Aaron cooed, looking down at you before looking at Spencer again. “See that, Spencer,” He murmured into the younger’s ear. “She wants to make you feel good. Will you let her?” Aaron’s voice was sultry and smooth as he spoke.

“Y-yes,” Spencer whispered, licking his lips as he looked down at you.

“What was that? I didn’t quite hear you,” Aaron replied, smirking at you as he spoke to Spencer.

Spencer let out a small whine as you ran a ghost of a fingertip from the base of his cock to the tip. “Yes,” Spencer gasped, speaking a bit louder.

“Good boy,” Aaron murmured as he leaned down to press small kisses along Spencer’s neck.

You grinned at the two of them before wrapping your hand around Spencer’s cock. You slowly moved your hand upward, giving it a few experimental tugs. And then you leaned forward, giving the tip of Spencer’s cock a kiss, causing Spencer’s breath to hitch once more. You stuck your tongue out, swirling it around the tip of Spencer’s cock. He let out a whimper, unable to help the subtle way his hips moved forward.

Giving head was always a treat. Whenever you gave Aaron a blowjob, you always relished the way his body reacted to your touch. It’s something primal, something so natural in the way the human body reacts to such pleasures. Especially when you’re the one causing it.

You slowly eased your mouth onto Spencer’s length, making him moan as he finally felt what your mouth felt like for the first time. You made it about halfway before moving your head back up his length, swirling your tongue around the tip once more. “O-oh,” Spencer moaned, his eyes fluttering shut.

“She’s so lovely, isn’t she?” Aaron murmured into Spencer’s ear.

“Uh-huh,” Spencer nodded his head, his eyes still closed.

You quickened your pace, getting into a nice rhythm of bobbing your head up and down Spencer’s length. You put your hand on the base of Spencer’s cock, jerking off what you couldn’t fit into your mouth. This action caused Spencer to moan loudly, his hand going down to your hair and entangling his fingers into it. “So good,” Spencer whimpered, opening his eyes to look down at you, seeing that you were already looking up at him through your lashes. “I-I’m so close,” He gasped, expecting you to stop.

But instead, you simply hummed in acknowledgment as you continued your ministrations on Spencer’s cock. You wanted so desperately to feel and taste him. Sucking Spencer off had been something you’d been thinking about for quite some time, wanting to see how he fell apart simply from your mouth. You felt Spencer’s cock stiffen in your mouth, signaling he was about to cum as the grip on your hair tightened.

Spencer was whining and moaning, unable to help the subtle stuttering of his hips as he began chasing his high from your mouth. And when you bobbed your head back up his length and swirled your tongue on the tip, Spencer let out the most beautiful noise you had ever heard as he moaned your name and came down your throat. You continued to suck him off through his orgasm, only stopping once Spencer shuttered from overstimulation.

You pulled away from Spencer’s cock, leaving a trail of saliva and cum on your chin. You used the back of your hand to wipe it away as you stood up. “T-thank you,” Spencer murmured to you.

You simply grinned. “We have the whole night ahead of us, Spence,” You exclaimed. “We aren’t done yet.” You moved over to Aaron and kissed him on the lips. “Isn’t that right?”

Aaron hummed as he smiled against your lips. “Absolutely,” he murmured. Aaron put a hand on your hip while he reached his other hand to Spencer’s, pulling him over to the two of you. Aaron looked at Spencer. “You’re going to watch and learn,” he commanded softly. He kissed you again, putting both of his hands on your hips.

You kissed Aaron back, your eyes fluttering shut as you put your hands on his shoulders. The two of you moved together in sync, kissing one another roughly. Aaron’s hands moved to the bottom of your nightgown, slowly pulling the fabric upward. He pulled away from the kiss to take the nightgown off of you, throwing it somewhere in the hotel room. You weren’t wearing anything underneath as you normally don’t when you wear such an article of clothing.

“Look at you,” Aaron said, looking you up and down. “Such a pretty girl for me.” As Aaron looked at you, you couldn’t help the smile that graced your lips. “Isn’t she so pretty, Spencer?”

“The prettiest,” Spencer replied hoarsely as he watched you and Aaron.

Aaron hummed, bringing his lips back to yours for a moment before kissing your jawline and down your neck. He gently pushed you until the backs of your legs bumped the edge of the mattress. “I’m going to make you feel good, okay?” He whispered to you.

You nodded your head, biting your lip as you looked at Aaron. “How do you want me?” You whispered back.

“On the bed,” Aaron exclaimed. “Lay pretty for me, yeah?”

You grinned, nodding your head. “Yes, sir,” You teasingly said as you got onto the bed, lying down on the mattress with your head on the pillow. Aaron couldn’t help the smirk on his lips as he watched you obey him so willingly.

“And you,” Aaron turned to look at Spencer, who was standing there watching rather a bit awkwardly. “I want you to sit on the edge of the bed and watch,” He said, pointing to a spot on the bed. Spencer didn’t hesitate to obey either as he took a seat, turning himself to face you. Aaron looked at you both for a moment, unable to help the muttering under his breath as he said “If only you two were this obedient out in the field,” before he moved over to you.

Aaron grabbed your left ankle, pressing a light kiss onto the skin as he worked his way upward. He had a habit of worshipping your body any time he was going to go down on you. He wanted you to know that you were valued, not just a means of stress relief to him. He made his way to your thigh, kissing the inside of the flesh. You watched Aaron with anticipation as he kissed your skin and spread your legs as he took in the sight of your glistening cunt.

“Already so wet,” He said huskily, licking his lips as he looked at you.

“Yeah,” You whispered back, looking at Aaron’s dark eyes as he watched you with hunger.

Aaron glanced over at Spencer, seeing how engrossed he was in watching the scene. The boy was already hard again but made no moves to pleasure himself. How endearing. Aaron then turned back to look at your cunt, no longer hesitating as he buried his head between your thighs.

He slowly licked a strip from your hole to your clit, collecting your juices on his tongue. You moaned softly, still biting your lip as you watched Aaron begin his ministrations on your pussy. He took his time with it, wanting to savor the taste and put on a show for Spencer. After all, Spencer needs to learn how to make you feel good.

Aaron’s tongue began running laps around your cunt, making figure eights before his lips moved to wrap around your clit. He sucked gently, causing you to moan and bring your hand to his hair, tugging at the locks. “Aaron,” you whined, your eyes fluttering shut.

He began kissing your pussy, practically making out with it as his tongue circled around your clit. You were whining and moaning, basking in the pleasure that Aaron was giving you. You suddenly felt one of his fingers probing your entrance, slowly easing inside of you. You gasped at the intrusion before throwing your head back in pleasure. “Oh my god,” you whimpered.

Aaron began moving his finger inside of you, thrusting in and out slowly while his lips remained on your clit. You had one hand in his hair while the other gripped the sheets. The feeling of Aaron’s finger inside of you while he also ate you out was such a wonderful feeling. You knew you wouldn’t last long.

He eventually added a second finger, immediately curling them up and hitting your g-spot. The action caused you to cry out in pleasure, instinctively clenching your walls around Aaron’s fingers. “Aaron!” you cried out in pleasure.

He responded by humming and sucking on your clit, moving his fingers faster inside of you. You felt that familiar heat growing inside of you as you got closer. “I’m so close,” you moaned, arching your back. Aaron continued his movements, determined to make you feel good.

With the rhythmic movement of Aaron’s fingers moving inside of you combined with the feeling of Aaron sucking and licking your clit, your orgasm overcame you quickly and harshly. You came with a loud moan of Aaron’s name, pulling his hair and thighs clenching around his face. “Oh fuck, Aaron, oh fuck,” you moaned repeatedly as you came, head thrown back with your back arched high.

Spencer watched you, mesmerized by the way your body reacted to Aaron’s touch. In that moment, Spencer was grateful for his eidetic memory. The way Aaron moved his mouth against you and used his fingers, Spencer knew that one day, he’d get to make you fall apart against him. He licked his lips at the idea of eating you out. He should be grossed out by it, being a germaphobe and all. But the idea of eating you out was enough to have his cock stiffening. He had to will himself not to cum untouched, wanting to be inside of you before he allowed that to happen.

When you relaxed against the mattress, relaxing your muscles and unclenching your thighs, Aaron pulled away with a smirk on his lips. He removed his fingers from your cunt, the digits soaked from your juices as was his chin. Aaron looked over at Spencer, seeing the way he was looking at you and Aaron. “Do you want a taste?” Aaron asked hoarsely as he held up his hand that was covered in your juices.

Spencer nodded pathetically, his lips already parting as he looked at Aaron with big doe eyes. Aaron couldn’t help the low chuckle that escaped him as he moved over to Spencer, bringing his fingers to the genius’ lips. Spencer immediately took them into his mouth, sucking on the digits as his tongue lapped around them. He moaned around Aaron’s fingers, loving the way you tasted.

“She tastes so divine, doesn’t she?” Aaron murmured, his other hand caressing Spencer’s hair. “She feels even better.” He practically purred.

You watched the scene happening in front of you as your breathing evened out. The way Spencer looked at Aaron with that blown-out expression he’s had all night, you could feel yourself getting wet again. You let out a small whine at the sight, clenching your thighs together.

Aaron glanced over at you, seeing the way you were already turned on again. “Needy, baby?” He asked.

You nodded your head. “Yes,” you said in response.

Aaron turned his attention back to Spencer, removing his fingers from his mouth. “Are you ready to feel her?” He asked, still caressing Spencer’s hair.

“Yes,” Spencer rasped out, glancing over at you. No other thoughts were in his brain as he thought about finally being inside of you. Over the past few weeks, it had been embarrassing how much he had jerked off at the idea of fucking you, feeling how wet you’d be on his cock.

“Good boy,” Aaron praised, sending a shiver down Spencer’s spine. “Go over to her. I’ll teach you what to do.”

Spencer nodded his head at his boss, licking his lips in anticipation. He cleared his throat as he got up from his seat at the edge of the bed, moving closer to you. Aaron stood next to the bed. “How do you want me?” You asked, looking at Spencer this time.

Spencer didn’t quite know how to respond. He wanted you in every way imaginable. But he knew tonight was about learning, about losing his virginity and learning how to make you feel good. He looked over at Aaron, who looked at Spencer with a quirked eyebrow. Spencer’s cheeks flushed as he was put on the spot. “I-uh-“ Spencer stuttered, looking at you. “J-just the way you are?”

That would be the best way, wouldn’t it be? You were already on your back, hair sprawled out on the pillow, with your legs spread and ready for Spencer. Spencer couldn’t help but look at your cunt. The way you were still so wet. He couldn’t wait to bury himself deep inside of you. But he waited for further instruction, not wanting to ruin the moment by his own greed.

“Are you ready for me to guide you?” Aaron asked Spencer in that soft velvety voice.

Spencer let out a shaky breath, nodding his head. “Yes, please.” He murmured.

Aaron looked at you. “And are you ready for Spencer, darling?” He asked you in the same tone.

You nodded your head enthusiastically, giving Aaron a small grin. “Want it so bad,” you replied breathily. “Been dreaming about it for so long.”

Aaron chuckled as Spencer blushed. “I know you have, baby,” Aaron cooed, putting a hand on your thigh. “You hear that, Spencer? She’s been wanting you for a while now. Will you give her what she wants?”

“Y-yes,” Spencer stuttered as he confirmed. To say he was nervous was an understatement. What if he wasn’t good? What if he came too soon and didn’t even make you feel anything? What if you decide you don’t want to speak to him anymore after this and things get awkward? All of those thoughts rushed through his head as his nerves began getting to him.

“Relax,” Aaron murmured into Spencer’s ear, as if attuned to Spencer’s ray of emotions. Spencer took a deep breath. “Firstly, you’re going to pull her closer to you. Don’t hesitate to manhandle her a little bit. She likes that,” Aaron spoke, teasing you slightly as he did so.

“Don’t tell him that,” you replied lightly.

The small banter between the two of you helped ease Spencer’s nerves. He put his arms underneath your legs, gently pulling you closer to him. You gave Spencer a soft reassuring smile. You could feel the tension radiating off of him. “There’s no need to be so tense, Spence,” you said softly. “I know it’s your first time and that’s scary. If you want to stop, that’s more than okay.”

“I don’t want to stop,” He replied immediately. “I just-I’m nervous is all. What if it’s not good? Or I don’t make you finish?”

You shook your head. “Firstly, it’s about the experience which is why foreplay is so important. If I don’t finish, that’s okay because I got to be with you and that’s all that matters.”

Spencer took your words into consideration. “You don’t care if you don’t finish?”

“Well nothing says you can’t do the job with your fingers after.” You grinned.

Spencer let out a breath that he didn’t know he was holding as he relaxed. Your words really did help to make him feel better. He looked at Aaron. “And that’s okay?”

Aaron nodded his head. “More than okay,” He replied. “Are you ready to continue?” He asked.

“Yes.” Spencer replied, sounding more sure of himself which made you smile.

Aaron hummed in approval. He reached down, grabbing Spencer’s hand and guiding it to the base of Spencer’s cock. “See how wet she is?” He leaned in so that his breath was fanning Spencer’s ear. “You’re going to spread the wetness around with your cock.” He whispered. Aaron moved Spencer’s hand that was gripping Spencer’s cock to your cunt, using the tip to spread the wetness up and down your slit. Aaron let go of Spencer’s cock, allowing the boy to do it himself.

You let out a soft noise, the feeling of Spencer’s tip against your pussy making you want him even more. Spencer couldn’t help the small whine that escaped his lips as he felt your wetness against his length. He was careful to make sure he was slow with it, not wanting to ruin the experience at all. He looked down at the way his cock moved against your pussy. Spencer swallowed and let out a shaky breath. Experimentally, he rubbed the tip against your clit to gauge your response.

And god, it was the right thing to do as you let out a “Spence!” in a way that he had been dreaming about for so long.

Aaron watched the two of you. He was the only one that was still dressed. The obvious tent in his suit pants was proof enough that he was affected by this whole ordeal. But he ignored it, wanting to focus on the two of you.

Spencer continued to circle the tip of his cock against your clit. “Spencer, please,” you said in a whiny tone that could’ve had Spencer cum right on the spot.

He let out a small moan. “You’re so wet,” he rasped out.

“Please fuck me already,” you said, still in that same tone.

“You heard her, Spencer,” Aaron spoke, his voice rough. “Give the lady what she needs.” Spencer bit his lip as he looked down at you and then at Aaron. He brought his cock to your hole. “Go slow,” Aaron commanded gently. “You don’t want to cause any discomfort or blow your load too soon.”

Spencer nodded his head. He looked down at you again as you looked at him with lustful eyes. And without any further hesitation, Spencer slowly eased himself into you. He let out a choked gasp, bringing his free hand to his mouth and biting down slightly to ground himself. The feeling of your wet cunt engulfing his cock was a lot and it took everything in him to not cum right then and there. Especially because he wasn’t even fully inside of you yet.

You moaned at the feeling of finally getting filled. Like anytime you had sex, there was a sting at the feeling of being stretched. But it was a good sting and you adored the feeling.

Aaron began unbuttoning his shirt, watching the scene unfolding in front of him. “When you’re fully inside, you’re going to wait. Don’t move until she’s ready for you to,” he spoke, tossing his shirt to the side.

As soon as Spencer was completely inside of you, he stayed still, taking deep breaths to not cum so quickly. “Y-you’re so tight, oh my god,” he couldn’t help but groan.

You laughed breathily. “You’re big,” you replied simply.

The two of you stayed like that for a few minutes as you adjusted to having Spencer inside of you and he calmed himself down enough to not bust inside of you immediately. “I-I’m ready,” you said softly, reaching your left hand out to intertwine your fingers with Spencer’s.

Spencer held your hand with his, the action helping him feel better. He looked over at Aaron. “Start slowly,” the older man stated, palming himself through his suit pants. “You don’t want to go too fast at first because you want it to last.”

Spencer took one more deep breath before pulling his cock out and thrusting back into you slowly. The action made him whimper as he felt his cock glide against your walls. “Oh-oh my,” He whimpered out, his grip on your hand tightening as he tried to control himself.

The first few thrusts were experimental, to familiarize himself with you and your pussy. And the look on your face helped reassure him that you at least liked it with the way your lips were parted in an “o” and how you were letting out your own small noises.

He began to get into a rhythm of slow movements, not wanting to go too fast. The feeling of your pussy around his cock was absolutely heavenly. You were so wet, so tight, and so warm. Spencer had wondered why it had taken him so long to lose his virginity. The way his cock moved against your walls made him feel as though he was going to burst at any moment. And the soft noises you were making? All because of Spencer's cock? You were truly a work of art that blessed the Earth with your presence.

“Faster,” you breathed out, licking your lips as you did so.

Who was Spencer to deny such a pretty request?

He began moving his hips a bit faster, picking up the pace. The change in friction made him let out a slutty whine as his cock dove in and out of your pussy. You moaned loudly, moving your legs to wrap them around Spencer’s waist, deepening the angle.

Aaron had removed his pants and boxers and was thoroughly jerking himself off, matching the pace that Spencer had set. He pumped his cock, watching the two of you as he brought his thumb to the tip, spreading around the precum that had already leaked. Watching the two of you was more than enough for him. He’s been having you all to himself for the past few months. It was only fair that he took a step back and allowed Spencer to have you all to himself.

As Spencer’s pace quickened, the squelching sound of your cunt filled the room with each thrust of his cock. “Oh my god,” Spencer whimpered, looking down at the way his cock moved in and out of you. Your cunt was soaked, glistening with your juices. He knew he wasn’t going to last much longer. So in order to make it good for you, Spencer put his fingers to your clit. Thank god for anatomy classes and studying the human body as he began rubbing circles against the nub.

You gasped, throwing your head back in pleasure. The way Spencer’s cock thrusted in and out, grazing against your g-spot, as he rubbed your clit. You could feel your release coming which was definitely surprising.

The room was filled with a chorus of grunting, whining, and moaning as everyone basked in the pleasures. Aaron quickened his hand, pumping himself faster.

“Feels so good,” you moaned with your head thrown back against the pillow.

“I-I’m not going to last much longer,” Spencer whined, looking down at you. Your breasts bounced with each thrust. At some point, Spencer would love to fuck you with his face buried between your tits. He continued to rub your clit and thrust his hips, trying to focus on your pleasure while chasing his own.

“Me neither,” you mewled. You opened your eyes to glance at Aaron as he had been so quiet. Seeing the way he stared at the two of you while pumping his cock. You could tell by the way his chest was flushed that Aaron was close. You reached out for him with your other hand, replacing his hand with yours as you jerked him off fast.

“Oh fuck,” Spencer moaned. “So close. Can I cum inside of you? Please, please, please,” He babbled as his hips moved more frantically.

You nodded your head. “Yes,” You moaned loudly.

And with a loud groan, Spencer buried himself deep inside of you as he came, filling you with his cum. The feeling of being filled sent you over the edge as you arched your back and moaned Spencer’s name rather pornographically, cumming hard around his cock. The feeling of you cumming making Spencer let out a rather pornographic whine.

The sight of the two of you finishing was enough to send Aaron over the edge as he came on your tits, his seed painting your chest as he grunted. You continued to jerk him off through his release.

And when the three of you were finished, the room was filled with heavy breathing. Silence overcame you guys as you all basked in the post-orgasmic bliss. After a few minutes, Spencer pulled out of you and laid down next to you just as Aaron leaned down to kiss your forehead before going to the bathroom to get a cloth and clean you up.

When you were all cleaned up, relatively so anyways, Aaron gently moved you over and laid down next to you. You looked between him and Spencer before finally breaking the silence. “So we’re in agreement that this is happening again, right?” You asked with a cheeky grin on your face, causing them both to chuckle.

“Oh absolutely,” Aaron replied.

“I’d like that,” Spencer said softly.

Well, let’s just say after that, that threesomes were now a frequent occurrence in your everyday life when you guys weren’t working.

[p1nkshield]

Perhaps Danny’s pursuit of banishing his boredom had gone a bit far. He was currently handing out business cards to the justice league after a successful presentation of his experience and the terms of his prospective employment. Maybe the catchphrase fake a foe was too cutesy? Ah well, the look on Batman’s face when he received a laminated resume was entertainment enough for the time being.

Danny didn’t expect to receive a call back at all.

“Did you mean what you said earlier Phantom?” A gravelly voice came from the phone.

“Absolutely! Only minor injuries guaranteed!”

Might as well commit.

“Robin is having issues with communication before he leaves his teammates.”

Oh the boy wonder?

“Say no more!”

This will be fun! And lucrative if the justice league could afford such a nice satellite.

Danny allowed his complexion to sallow to a more verdant tone, his canines sharpened to a vicious point.

He turned to Tucker as he materialized his royal ghostly regalia. Rings upon rings, a fur lined crown and a cape that seemed to always have frost on the hem. “Too much?”

“Yeah man, just the cloak is good.”

“No keep the crown but make it a circlet!” Sam protested.

“Bold of you to assume I know what that is.” Danny said as he followed the already pulled up examples Sam had.

“Let’s go spook some baby heroes.”

Damn it. Dick tested the ropes that kept him tied to the chair. Not good. This villain even thought to remove his gloves before securing him so there were literally no tricks up his sleeve. He still struggled anyway just to make sure he didn’t look too defeated.

An icy laugh permeated the room. Dick swore that the room dropped a few degrees as he heard his opponent.

“Hello Robin! How nice of you to drop in unannounced.”

Okay, calm down and analyze. Who is this? Where is the voice coming from? Ice powers, but it’s not anyone familiar. Not Freeze or Frost.

“Oh but where are your little friends?” Suddenly a teenager about a head taller than him phased into view. Years of training kept Robin’s expressions neutral despite the dude just appearing like that.

“Who are you?”

His opponent regarded him with a patronizing smirk.

“Ah ah ah! First let’s watch.” He said as he turned on a tv in the room he was being held hostage in.

Wally sped into the open expanse of the warehouse looking at the various pieces of tech scattered and mixed with random old looking artifacts.

“Hey Superboy, check this out! You think this is a real blaster?”

Kon shrugged as he eyed some glowing green vials.

“I suggest you avoid touching prospective weapons as we investigate. Or anything else for that matter.” Kaldur said as he surveyed the room.

Starfire sheepishly put down the old dusty tome she was holding. “I agree! Also where is Robin?”

“He likes to disappear and run ahead. Usually he shows up later, I wouldn’t worry about him.” Artemis said as she inspected her bow.

“But do we not have coms for this very reason?”

“Doesn’t mean he uses em Star.” Wally said half joking.

Dick winced at the criticism. Okay, ouch he gets it.

“A shame you didn’t tell them, otherwise the amount of time you’ve been gone would have been suspicious. Maybe they’d be more vigilant. More prepared.”

What?

His attacker disappeared with a laugh, appearing again moments later on the screen, front and center.

“Greetings young heroes! Allow me to test your mettle.”

Danny Phantom:Villain for hire writing prompt

Danny goes to college after he becomes ghost king and gets bored when his life is no longer packed with chaos.

Sure he could head to the realms and fight some ghosts but that was just regular chaos and he wanted to mix things up a bit.

It’s around this time that Danny learns about the young protégés of the Justice league.

One day while the JL are at the watch tower having a meeting IN SPACE they are interrupted by a teenaged invader.

The whole team goes on the defensive when much to their surprise, the teen passes out his resume and pulls up a PowerPoint title “Phantom:Villain for hire”

He then goes on to explain that he’d been in the hero game for years in a small town where the media actively portrayed him as a villain for years before going completely dark on the matter when Vlad was kicked out of office.

He explains that he’d been in fights with various levels of villains and is incredibly versatile with his power output and fight difficulty.

Which is why he would be the perfect villain to have their protégés practice against!!

He can be their villain of the week that helps them learn valuable life lessons while giving them a very real challenge WITHOUT the risk of death or dismemberment!

he can even create schemes catered to lessons they want to teach their proteges

for a price of course….

years down the line when each of them officially join the league. one by one the team has a mental breakdown when they find the bane of their existence eating a bagel in the league cafateroa

[ddejavvu]

pairing: (smallville) clark kent x reader

summary: clark hits it from the back for your first time, because that 'doesn't really count'.

contents/warnings: smut, minors dni. anal sex, first time sex, mild discomfort for both of those reasons. my bsf was the inspo + source for this because she's taken it up the shitter a dozen times but swears up and down she's a virgin and (completely judgement-free) i find that fascinating

for whatever reason, you and clark have never had sex. whether it's because you want to save yourself for marriage, or you're worried about pregnancy in small-town kansas, or no one has a condom when you need one, the bottom line is that you and clark have been totally abstinent thus far. that's not to say you've never done anything with him, but in your minds it doesn't really count if it's not in the right place, right?

clark's touched you, sure, and you've touched him. you've sucked him off and he's repaid the favor breathlessly, if not a little too eagerly as he goes down on you. you've cum on his fingers and you've dry humped for days and he's fucked your thighs and he's fucked your tits on one wild occasion just to have a hole but hey!! he's never put it in your pussy and that means it doesn't really count. you haven't technically, really had sex yet, all of that other stuff is just sort of foreplay if you think about it. you've never let him in your pussy so really you've never had sex at all.

it's another night of heated, heavy makeouts, heaving, panting breaths washing over your bare, goose-bumped skin as he sticks his hands into the hem of your jeans, and you reconsider your commitment like you always do at this point in time. you really want to stay strong, you're not letting him inside of you, but- but that's not really the only place he could put it. you're sick and tired of the teasing, abstinence is what you think is right but you just can't seem to keep it in your pants either of you. so you consider it for a moment, and you decide that you're not breaking your resolve, he will not be allowed to stick it in... that hole.

"Clark," You murmur, taking hold of his wrist where he's fingering the hem of your panties, "Do you want to-? Like, you know, go from the back?"

There's perhaps no modest way of saying it, but his brows furrow like he's not picking up what you're putting down.

"Like, like- you know, I'll- I'll get on my hands and knees, and you can..."

One brow raises, then the other, "Oh. Oh, like-? Like I can- uh, I can go inside?"

"Yeah. But- y'know, from the back."

"Yeah. Yeah," He fumbles with his jeans, feeling a tightness below his gut as he fully comprehends what you're offering. even with your jeans rucked down by your knees he can see you through your panties, there's already a wet spot from where you'd ground into his thigh earlier. and he's not using that hole, but it's still sexy to see as you get yourself propped up on your hands and knees. He realizes that this is going to be harder than normal sex, that your body won't help him as much, but the thought of finally getting his dick wet in one of your holes- he's already about to cum.

Clark does have lube, because it came in a care package from a seminar his high school did on safe sex practices. You've used it once because you were trying to get off quick and you didn't have time to get yourself wet naturally, but he's glad for the rest of it now as you settle on your hands and knees.

you feel a little ridiculous, on the floor like this, but you even weirder when his hands spread your ass apart, territory you’ve never ventured into before. You have a sudden flash of anxiety because Clark goes still, but he’s only trying to figure out how best to go about this. He realizes something easy enough to figure out but something he’s never had to before: you’ll have to be stretched open before he can fit inside of you. His stillness comes from his hesitation; he doesn’t wanna fuck up the best offer you’ve ever given him. He wonders, lube on the hole, finger dry? Lube on the finger, hole dry? Lube on both? He’s never done this before either. He settles on lube on the finger and still he hesitates. What if he fucks up? What if he didn’t cut his nails short enough last night (thank god he cut them at all), what if he hurts something, what if it doesn’t feel good at all and you break up with him?

Meanwhile you’re face down, ass up on the floor, silently begging for him to just stick it in already. You’re starting to think maybe it’s just gross to him, maybe he only wants the one hole you can’t give him yet, maybe he’s watching you with disdain as you bare yourself for him.

Clark doesn't mean to startle you but it does break you out of your mental spiral when he finally touches you. The lube is cold and you jerk forwards away from the touch, but you settle back into place, apologizing with burning cheeks. Clark is just as out of his element, and he reaches out to secure your hips in place with the hand that isn't lubed. He didn't mean for it to be suave, but it steadies you, and you exhale shakily, pushing back into his hand to prompt more.

You are tight, but with the lube he's able to get his finger in relatively fast. all it takes is a little finesse, a steady, gentle, circular push against your hole that gives him some resistance but is ultimately willing to acquiesce. Even after he gets one finger in it's tight, but he uses a bit more lube and soon your hole gets used to his single digit. you're letting out little gasps and whines because it feels differently than anything else you've ever experienced, and you feel Clark's finger begin nudging at the tight walls of your hole before he's confident he can slip another finger inside. He's gentle, and he doesn't jab his finger side-to-side, but he plays with it, figuring out how much give he's got and letting out his own breathy sighs as he watches his finger slide in and out, glistening with lube. he's fingered you before and watched, but this is different, this is tighter and he feels you squeezing down on him with every pump of his finger. he gets embarrassingly hard in his jeans, practically squirming himself on the floor while he watches you swallow him up.

When he's deemed you loose and pliant enough to try for a second finger he keeps them pressed tightly together, hesitating when you squirm and cry out a bit in discomfort.

"You okay?" He glances around at you, trying to gauge whether you're in pain or if it's just different from your scrunched-up face.

"Yeah. I- It's weird," You admit sheepishly, "At first, but- just keep going, please? I want to- I want to do this with you."

He pushes two fingers in with a steady force and your nails catch the dust on his floorboards as they curl into the wood.

It's a slow process, because he's never done it before but he knows enough to know it'll really hurt if he fucks it up. He gets to three fingers before he tries his dick, which proves to be perfect, because his fingers are thick and he's continued in the pattern of gently and barely scissoring you open with each new finger added. It's hard because you're tense, but he's got his big warm had on your hip, rubbing gentle circles into it with the ounce of brainpower he has left while he watches your hole swallow his fingers up. He's murmuring, 'relax', But it's okay, looser is better than tighter, at least for your comfort levels. you're still plenty tight when he takes his hand away to fumble with his belt, smearing lube against the front of his jeans in his haste to get them off. The condom is no better, wasting precious moments that he could be inside of you with its foil wrapper, clinging to the rubber inside.

"Okay." He's breathless and oh-so-eager, "You ready? You still want to?"

You push backwards again, hole now open and inviting him in, "Please! Please, Clark," You've gotten past your momentary discomfort, or you're at least willing to take it for the chance to have Clark inside of you, "Please don't stop now. I want you to be inside of me, we just- it has to be like this."

He's already on his knees and lined up before you're done, and he grabs greedily at your hips, giddy now that he's gotten to free his raging hard-on from his jeans. He's loathe to separate his hand from your ass to guide himself in but it's so fucking good when he finally pushes in that he almost passes out. he's used to the suctioned but loose cavern of your mouth, or your fist that can open and close around him. This is the first time he's ever shoved his way in anywhere that doesn't open, and even though he'd stretched you a bit too wide you're still completely enveloping his dick, warm- almost hot and tight as he pushes in as far as he can.

He probably should have gone slower for the first thrust, because you cry out and rock forwards, your elbows nearly buckling, but he'd been a little too eager to sheathe himself fully inside of you. He gasps out and takes a second to just feel, noting that his hips are now flush against yours, and he can feel your warm skin, he can feel your warm body, he can feel your warm hole swallowing him up and keeping him stuck in place. It feels like a divorce to pull out, but he does it so that he can push in again, moving slow to make sure you don't get hurt. he knows it's gonna start out uncomfortable but you're still pushing back into him, and you're breathing slow and steady, trying to steady yourself through the initial difference in feeling so that you can enjoy it.

"Sorry." He grunts, feeling every single ounce of pressure against his cock as you squeeze him, trying so hard not to let himself collapse over you. He's strong enough to hold himself up but you're making him so weak, so frazzled and braindead that he just wants to collapse and take in the way he's buried in your ass forever. He makes the mistake of looking down as he pulls out and he nearly busts right then and there watching your hole perfectly conform to the width of his cock.

His breath is huffing over your back, and he finally sets a steady pace when you're feeling okay enough for it. As soon as he gets a rhythm going he knows he'll never stop, grunting and panting and groaning as he feels the most intense pleasure he's ever felt, better than his hand, better than your hand, better than your mouth. You're so tight and hot and you're already trembling, and he can't stop himself from leaning down to press his face into your back. his nose digs into the back of your neck and his mouth just sort of opens so that he can press his lips and tongue and skin to your flesh, mindless and needy and sticky as he ruts his hips desperately, roughly, greedily against your ass.

He's rocking into you like a man starved and you feel him hitting impossibly deep in a spot you've never had anything hit before. It's pleasurable, yes, but it's not enough, and if you could drag a hand to your cunt to play with yourself you would. but your arms are shaking and it's all you can do to stay on all fours, while clark pounds your ass. his dick is thick and strong and your cunt aches for it but you'll have to be satisfied with this. your mouth falls open at the feeling of being so full and then so empty, over and over and over again. it's like a vacuum, and you arch backwards into him with each pull-out, desperate to fill that empty space as if he's not going to force his way back in within a fraction of a second. It's an addictive rhythm, and you moan over and over and over again as he buries himself in your ass.

He's dragging you closer, pumping his hips harder, holding you tighter with every thrust and he finds himself embarrassingly fast to finish. he should be stronger than this, he should be able to contain himself for longer than a few minutes but the way your hole keeps that constant, tight pressure on him has him coming undone quicker than he'd like to admit. He's got a condom on so he can cum inside no sweat, but he hadn't even thought about it before it had happened, and he wonders if you'd have asked him to pull out had you had the time. he doesn't, and there's so much that it fills out any gaps between the condom and his dick. It's messy and gross and squelchy as he rides it out but he's so overwhelmed by the feeling of your hole that he can't do anything but keep going. all he can do is keep pumping his hips, grunting and groaning into your back as your hole milks his orgasm, and he has to consciously hold himself up instead of collapsing over your back. he's strong enough to stay upright but it just feels so good, like nothing he's ever had before. He knows he's cum before you, he knows you haven't cum at all, and that you're not likely to from just this. but he'll fix that in a minute, as soon as he gets over the mindblowing feeling of you clenching around him.

he pulls out and you whimper at the final loss of contact, still pressing back for more. He drags himself off of you and presses a sweet kiss to the curve of your ass, soothing the sting from where his hips had slammed into your skin over and over again. you're panting and you finally hit the floor, resting even though your body wants stimulation and now. Clark drags you into his lap, letting you sit against his chest while carefully avoiding his sensitive cock. Next time- god, he's already getting hard over next time, he'll bounce you on his lap. but for now he reaches for your cunt with his clean hand, finding it wet and begging for his fingers just like your ass was.

"Thank you," He murmurs, nosing at your temple as you lay in his lap, jolting and squirming as he slips two fingers inside your ready-and-waiting cunt, "Fuck, thank you, that was- that was so good."

"Clark!" You turn into his chest, holes screaming with sensation as he fingers you, finally giving you enough to get off on, "You- I- I want you inside again."

"Now?" He asks, breathless, his lips pinkened and puffy from his teeth gnawing at them. You nod and he lets you clamor onto his thighs, already lining himself up to fuck your hole again. When you sink down onto him it takes some bracing and effort, but he slips right back into the now familiar-rhythm of up and down, in and out, deliciously tight pressure, and he knows he'll never be fully content with his hand ever again.

[adieutristana]

happy birthday!; arcane women x fem!reader

so my birthday was back in december. but i thought this would be cute regardless

sorry for kinda slow uploads! midterm season + burnout + working full shifts every weekend… i’ve got stuff cooking dw

summary; headcanons of arcane women celebrating their girlfriend’s birthday.

characters included; jinx, vi, mel, sevika, caitlyn

tags/warnings; fluff, a lot of fluff, possible hurt/comfort, just cute stuff all around

men dni.

jinx;

✧.* jinx is a bit intimidated by the idea of celebrating your birthday, at first. she hasn’t done much for her birthday in years, not since before what happened on the bridge years ago. silco would give her a pre-packaged cake with the appropriate number of candles every year, but that was it. however, jinx is never one to back down from a challenge.

✧.* as jinx's girlfriend, you don't just get a party, a celebration, anything like that for your birthday. you get a whole damn festival.

✧.* jinx never does anything halfway. she wouldn't be able to live with herself if she'd given you a lackluster birthday.

✧.* jinx wakes you up at the first hint of daylight with poppers and streamers, giggling all the way and jumping on her heels. she doesn't seem to care that you're grumbling and trying to cover your ears, clearly not happy being woken up this early. "it's your birthday! your birthday! can you believe it, toots?!" she giggles, letting off another popper.

✧.* the girl is basically dragging you by the arm out of bed. she's rambling, promising you that she's got loads of fun things planned for you today. lots of presents, adventures to go on, snacks, the like.

✧.* "go get dressed! wear somethin' nice, okay? but not too nice!" she giggles. it's likely some sort of implication of explosions to come during the day. as soon as you've gotten dressed and ready for the day ahead of you, jinx's fingers are intertwining with yours, and she's leading you out of her hideout.

✧.* your first stop is the lanes, which jinx has taken care to decorate thoroughly before your arrival. you've seen the lanes several times before, but the walls are now tagged with your name, your initial and jinx's in hearts, crude stick-figure drawings of the two of you, and jinx's signature monkeys. all throughout the lanes, a constant reminder of you. at the end of one of the alleys, jinx has made a clear attempt at painting confetti and a cake, though the paint had run in several spots. she must've been particularly excited when doing that.

✧.* "baby, this is-" "awesome? wonderful? amazing? perfect?" she interrupts, giggling as she throws her arms around your shoulders from behind. "i worked reaaaaal hard on it, y'know!" punctuating her words with a swift kiss to your lips. but of course, that isn't all. it never is with jinx.

✧.* she makes it a point to let anyone who passes by in the alleys know that it’s your birthday, and that artwork is for you. “all for my girlfriend! birthday girl! pretty, ain’t it?”

✧.* your next stop is an old warehouse, where jinx used to scramble for scraps and spare parts for weapons. but she's decorated it to be a sort of... shooting range. there's targets, cases of ammo, and a spare revolver on a table, as well as spray-painted arrows pointing to the targets. though you were a bit reluctant at first, jinx swore it'd be fun- just a little something to let loose.

✧.* she holds your hands from behind, guiding your finger to the trigger and helping adjust your aim. "a little to the left- yes, like that!" she giggles. her chin is resting on your shoulder, watching your every move. "and... fire!"

✧.* you end up liking it a lot more than you'd thought. it's wild, it's reckless, but it's so jinx. despite everything, some simple target practice does help you let off some steam from long days spent working or studying.

✧.* "let's try moving targets next time! or living ones." "absolutely not."

✧.* your final stop is jinx's hideout. she sits you down at a wobbly table and tells you to close your eyes, a wide smile on her face. you're sat for a few minutes and your mind begins to wander to what the hell is taking her so long, but it's then she places something in front of you. "okay, open!"

✧.* a... cake? something that's leaning to one side with messy frosting, scratchy words reading 'HAPPY BIRTHDAY'. sprinkles are unevenly spread on it, but she pushes it towards you.

✧.* "i made this, just for you! come on, try it!"

✧.* you're a bit apprehensive at first, but you cut a slice regardless. as odd as it looks, it actually tastes really, really good. jinx is watching the whole time with a smug grin. you don't even need to say anything for your girlfriend's ego to balloon.

✧.* wouldn’t eat any right away, but would insist on kissing you for a taste test. those big magenta eyes looking at you so sweetly, yet it’s almost amusing. “come on, just a little taste test,” she whines, before you roll your eyes and connect your lips with hers.

✧.* she’d made you a bouquet of flowers from welded metal, as well as a heart-shaped trinket box with both of your initials carved into it. it’s got pink and blue doodles painted all over it, and something already inside of it- a silver locket! one side holds a stick figure drawing of you, and the other of her.

✧.* jinx’s gifts are always handmade, and always so personal. she knows exactly what you like, and you’re able to see that especially on occasions like your birthday.

✧.* jinx also made a card for you, which reads, “i don’t know how to write these, honestly. words aren’t my strong suit. but i’m happy to have you, and i’m happy that i get to celebrate with you. thanks for being an awesome girlfriend, i love you!

-J!”

vi;

✧.* vi would be soooo so attentive during your entire birthday. you’re the most important thing in vi’s life, without a doubt. she wants to show that to you the best she can.

✧.* she won’t wake you up, but vi knows your sleeping schedule well enough to be able to get a good guess of when you will wake up. therefore, she prepares breakfast in bed for you!

✧.* “rise and shine, cupcake,” she hums, soft lips brushing against your temple. “made something to start your day right.”

✧.* and it’s good. you insist that vi didn’t have to do this for you, but she counters by saying that she wanted to. it’s your birthday, after all. can’t she treat you?

✧.* vi takes you to a cafe on the outskirts of piltover, one she’d found while just walking around the city and exploring. it’s a quaint place, a hidden gem of sorts. she lets you get anything you’d like on the menu (no matter how expensive), and talks about anything and everything with you over your meal.

✧.* “so. how are you feeling now? any older?” “the same way i felt yesterday,” you quip, before taking another bite. “aw, come on. give me something to work with here.”

✧.* does end up telling the staff that it’s your birthday so you can get some free sweets :)

✧.* vi spoils you anyways, but on your birthday? oh, you’re not doing anything by yourself. she insists on helping you into your coat, opening every door for you, paying for everything (a given), doing any housework that needs done. it’s your birthday, so you’re gonna relax and enjoy yourself. vi will handle the rest.

✧.* and she’s so clingy the entire day! she had an arm slung around your waist while walking you to the cafe. she’s kissing your temples and forehead while you’re having breakfast, she’s lifting you up and spinning you around the second you get dressed for the day and telling you just how beautiful you look.

✧.* “you’re stunning, you know that?” vi hums, before pressing a sweet kiss to the corner of your lips. “you tell me every day,” before turning your head for a proper kiss. “but i love hearing it.”

✧.* once you’re back home, vi presents you with some gifts she’d bought you. she tried to wrap them, but they ended up looking… interesting. so she just put them in a gift bag.

✧.* but you can’t open them before the cake! speaking of the cake, it’s a three-layered cake, your favorite flavor with ‘happy birthday’ in print across the center, as well as your age below it. it’s got a few candles around the edges as well, just to set the scene.

✧.* vi turns out the lights and insists on singing to you. she'll likely also want to take some photos too, just to save the memory.

✧.* "say cheese," she chuckles. her finger is ghosting over the shutter, and vi's smiling ear-to-ear. "just a few pictures, okay?"

✧.* usually the gifts your girlfriend gets you are more on the practical side, but for occasions like this, they're the typical, sappy things. she's gotten you a few hair pins she saw you eyeing while out window shopping, candles for your shared home, and the kicker is the matching bracelets. they're made out of bound leather, but the thing that sticks out to you is the fact that yours has a V engraved into it, and hers has your initial.

✧.* they likely came from a crafter in the undercity, someone who clearly knew what they were doing from how carefully made they are.

✧.* "well.. do you like it?" vi asks. she's already slipping her own onto her wrist, before taking yours and offering it up. "i love it," you affirm. you lift your arm to allow vi to put it on you, smiling all the way.

✧.* vi's card is simple, handmade, and heartfelt. it's on simple white cardstock with hearts and a cake drawn on the front- the inside reading, "it's your birthday! wow. that's kind of hard to believe, isn't it? another year spent by your side, getting to see you kick ass and do great things every day. i feel like the luckiest girl alive to be able to call you mine. i hope we get lots more birthdays together. i love you lots cupcake, happy birthday!

-vi ♡"

mel;

✧.* mel has had your birthday celebration planned for months.

✧.* if there is anything mel can do, it's celebrate. it's plan a party, one that'll keep people talking for weeks, maybe even months to come.

✧.* however, she doesn't want anything too extravagant or over-the-top for your birthday. as much as she'd like to shout from the rooftops piltover that it's her darling's birthday, she also wants to be able to have a more intimate celebration with you.

✧.* that morning starts with you being woken up to the feeling of mel’s lips, peppering kisses across your face. you erupt into a fit of sleepy giggles, wrapping your arms around your girlfriend’s waist.

✧.* “happy birthday, love,” she whispers, continuing her assault of kisses. “do you feel any different?” “mm, no… the same as yesterday.”

✧.* of course she’s already made breakfast for you. who do you think she is? and she knows your favorites by heart, so it’s a tried-and-true breakfast.

✧.* before the party she’s organized starts, mel takes you to some of the local street vendors and shops to see if there’s anything you’d like. even if you don’t necessarily ask for it. if she sees your gaze linger on a certain bracelet for more than a few seconds, she’s already talking to the shopkeeper to buy it. if you point out a hair pin you like, she’s already got it.

✧.* “oh, that’s cute,” you point out, lingering on a pin adorned with crystals. just a passing comment, and you likely won’t buy it. “it’s yours, then.” “huh? mel-”

✧.* she whisks you away to your party. she’d been rather secretive about the whole operation- you know that you’re having a party, and it’s at a small yet expensive venue in the heart of piltover. that’s all mel will let you know. so once you’re inside and greeted by glass chandeliers, gold trim in every corner, one of the biggest pastry arrangements you’ve ever seen and nearly every friend or family member in the area, it comes as a shock.

✧.* mel’s outdone herself, yet again. “all of this… for me?” mel lets out a low chuckle, and snakes her arms around you from behind. resting her chin on your shoulder. “anything for you, and more.”

✧.* mel watches as you ease into conversation with guests. catching up with family, friends, old colleagues with a gentle smile on your face. it does wonders for her, to be able to see you with other loved ones- all while celebrating your special day.

✧.* when it comes time to bring out the cake and gifts, a cake is wheeled out from a kitchen. multiple layers with intricate writing and edible flowers on the top, clearly made by one of the best bakers in piltover. someone mel no doubt has connections to.

✧.* the cake reads, ‘happy birthday, y/n!’ in neat script, wrapping across the middle layer.

✧.* mel watches closely while you open cards and gifts from other guests, but she insists that you open hers last, reason unknown.

✧.* once you do get to her gift, you notice that it’s… small. really, really small. in a white velvet box, but bigger than a ring box. you look up at her, an eyebrow quirked in hopes of some kind of hint. “just open it, love,” she hums, pointing her chin back to the box.

✧.* you open the gift, increasingly curious as to what she could’ve possibly gotten for you- but it’s greater than anything you could’ve expected. a custom-made bracelet, made to resemble mel’s own ring. a symbol of the medardas, a symbol of commitment. not a ring, not a promise quite yet, but something just for you. just for mel’s lover.

✧.* tears prick at the corner of your eyes, and all you can notice is your girlfriend’s smile growing wider. “do you like it?” she asks, taking your hand in hers and going to clasp the bracelet on your wrist. “mel, this is… too much, really.” you gasp. the bracelet is nothing short of beautiful, even more so on your wrist. “nonsense. it’s perfect.”

✧.* her card is on black paper, trimmed with gold leaf and the message inside is written in white ink. “your birthday, one of the days i look forward to the most. it’s hard to believe another year has passed, isn’t it? you grow more every year, as does my love for you. i hope that this birthday is a good one. i love you always.

-mel medarda.”

sevika;

✧.* sevika is almost always up early. her job is one that requires her presence at all hours of the day, even when the rest of zaun is asleep (for the most part, at least). but on your birthday, sevika sleeps in. she stays in bed with you, one arm draped around your waist while nestling her face into the crook of your neck.

✧.* sevika wakes you up shortly after you do, beginning to stir when she notices your drowsy movements. “mm… mornin’, sev,” you whisper, a hand coming to thread through her hair. “mornin’, birthday girl,” she mutters.

✧.* of course sevika insists on making you breakfast, so she’s up within minutes in the kitchen. nothing fancy necessarily, but watching her from the kitchen table, swiftly moving and humming to herself in a state nobody else could ever hope to see sevika in… it’s priceless.

✧.* she doesn't have anything necessarily fancy planned in the way of celebrations, but sevika still makes sure you have the best birthday possible. she tells you to go put on something nice, she's taking you out.

✧.* she takes you to a relatively new restaurant in zaun, one that's already gotten raving reviews from critics. it's a bit out of the way, and neither of you have been before, but the woman is trusting the public opinion on this one.

✧.* and sevika was right to trust the public. it's a damn good place, one that's up to your tastes. she can see the way your demeanor changes the moment you step in the door, curious eyes taking in the dim lighting and fresh aromas. it's nothing luxurious, but you wouldn't want that. it's cozy. it's perfect for the occasion,

✧.* "so," sevika hums, placing her menu down. "what d'ya think of the place?" "it's nice. really nice," you reach out for one of her hands, a light smile playing on your face. "how'd you find it?" "i have my ways, dove."

✧.* the food arrives, and it's some of the best you've had in zaun. sevika sees your face, hears your pleased noises, and knows she's done something right. and of course she gets pastries for you at the end, even though she's already got a cake at home for you.

✧.* your next stop is a river, one in the outskirts of zaun. untainted nature is a rare thing to come by in the undercity, but it still has its spots of quiet beauty. she sits in the slightly gray grass with you, watching the water ripple with the wind. holding you against her shoulder and rubbing her prosthetic hand over your arm.

✧.* "makes you think, doesn't it?" you whisper. your gaze is fixed on the scene before you: the sun's rays catching on the water, the little critters surrounding it, the few flowers that bloom close to land. "about what?" "just... everything. it's my birthday, and things suck, but this is nice. a little pocket away from everything else."

✧.* sevika makes a mental note to bring you to spots like this more often.

✧.* once you're back home, sevika sits you down at the kitchen table and presents you with a cake and gift. sevika is far from a baker, she can cook well enough. but baking is mostly uncharted territory for the woman, so the cake has an... interesting appearance. regardless, she did her best, even if the frosting is uneven and the writing on top got a little smudged.

✧.* it's a simple two-layer cake, with 'happy birthday, y/n' written across the top in sevika's neat handwriting.

✧.* but it's actually pretty good! you're a bit skeptical, though you feel bad judging only by appearance. you take the first bite, then glance up at sevika and give her a swift nod. she's surprised you today in several ways.

✧.* "don't even say anything." sevika chuckles. "not much to look at, but it's good, yeah?"

✧.* the gift she's gotten you is wrapped in brown parchment paper, with your name written across the front in black pen. inside, though, is a small photo album. mostly compiled of candid photos, a few of the two of you posed together (despite sevika's camera shyness), and a few of destinations you've been together. likely taken on the disposable camera you've seen her carry around, the same one she tells you not to worry about. now it makes sense.

✧.* it's simple, but it's so intimate and heartfelt. "sevika.. you took all of these? made this, for me?" the woman's gaze softens further, and you can see her lips start to tug into a smile. "of course i did. i've spent janna knows how long taking all these pictures..." before she's cut off by you throwing your arms around her neck, nearly lunging at her.

✧.* her card is written on simple white paper, with just your name written across the front and a message inside. "i'm not good with words, i never have been. but i hope that i'm able to spend a lot more years with you. you make things a lot more worthwhile, and i'm lucky to have you by my side. happy birthday, dove. i love you.

-sevika."

caitlyn;

✧.* caitlyn has everything very carefully planned. not necessarily a party or any kind of grand celebrations, but a day for just the two of you. where she can show you her love and appreciation in the most unabashed ways.

✧.* you're woken up to the smell of breakfast on the bedside table, but caitlyn isn't there. the mattress still has an imprint from where she laid not long before, but she's not anywhere to be seen.

✧.* you wander out of the bedroom. a fist coming to rub at your eyes in your drowsy state, only focused on finding your girlfriend. it's then that your eyes land on a tall figure, moving about the kitchen like it's the most natural thing in the world.

✧.* "cait...?" you approach her slowly, your movements still sluggish. "what are you doing out of bed?" "preparations for later, darling." she says. the woman doesn't turn around, not yet, but her voice is calm and reassuring all the same. judging from the sweet scent in the air, she's making some last-minute pastries for your birthday. you decide to leave it alone.

✧.* the first half of breakfast, you're by yourself. but it isn't a bad kind of solidarity, rather peaceful while your girlfriend makes the finishing touches for your special day. you hear the oven click off, and within seconds, caitlyn is beside you. brushing a stray strand of hair from your face, her lips brushing your temple ever so gently.

✧.* "my apologies," she whispers, moving to press another kiss over your cheekbone. "i might've overestimated my workload. it's settled now."

✧.* your first stop is a bakery settled in the heart of piltover, one commonly titled one of piltover's 'hidden gems.' luxury pastries of all sorts, the atmosphere inside is warm and inviting. something akin to what would be in a storybook or travel magazine, but it's real.

✧.* "whatever you want, love." cait told you. she stands back, watching you marvel at the glass cases at the front and over the printed menus. macarons, ice cream, gelato, cakes, cupcakes, cookies, mini pies, the whole lot of it. all at your disposal.

✧.* you only end up picking a few things, not nearly all that you've had your eye on. you know on your birthday, your girlfriend would buy out the entire bakery if you asked her to, but you won't. this'll suffice.

✧.* your next stop is a restaurant, nestled by a river with a window seat right next to it. candles sit atop the tables, the low rumble of chatter from other patrons filling the restaurant. it's not necessarily uptight or fancy, but it's nice. clearly a place that's sought after.

✧.* "you've outdone yourself, cait," you mutter between bites. the food is hearty and damn savory, something you probably wouldn't been able to find yourself. "i did what i had to," she chuckles. her hands are tented in front of her on the table, having already finished her meal. "can't let my special girl have anything less than perfect on her special day, can i?"

✧.* once you arrive back at the woman's estate, you see an array of gifts, a bouquet, and a cake on the kitchen island for you. a multi-layered cake with edible decorations that reads 'HAPPY BIRTHDAY,' several carefully-wrapped gifts of varying sizes.

✧.* "oh, baby, you didn't have to..." you can barely even say the words. it's all so much. caitlyn cuts you off with a swift, yet still tender kiss to your lips. "shh. i wanted to. you're worth it all."

✧.* your cake has several cupcakes and cake pops accompanying it, seemingly what the woman was working so diligently at that morning.

✧.* the first gift is a carefully wrapped candle, one of the ones caitlyn keeps in her room. you'd told her once during the beginning of your relationship that you liked the smell of it, and it seems that she's remembered.

✧.* the second and third are both pieces of jewelry, one a simple silver charm bracelet that cait tells you will have more charms the more memories you make together. the other, a short silver chain with a sapphire pendant, one that perfectly matches caitlyn's hair color.

✧.* the final, a bigger box with a satin bow on top. your heart pounds in your chest while opening it. you have no idea what to expect, but knowing caitlyn, it's gotta be good. you weren't sure what you were expecting, but definitely wasn't a heavy scrapbook.

✧.* you didn't even know caitlyn was into this kind of thing. when would she even have the time to scrapbook? regardless, you open the cover, decorated with a photo of both of you and your name written underneath- and tucked neatly beneath it is your card.

✧.* "i hope that you like this. i spent a lot of time making this book, but it has everything- our first few dates, my thoughts, candids, mementos. all that's important to you, to me, and to us. something to celebrate another year of having and loving you. happy birthday, darling.

-caitlyn."

[adore-laur]

in one of your pieces it’s briefly mentioned that the first time they had sex after she gives birth it was really uncomfortable and not good and i was wondering if you’d ever write that ? i love the idea of sex not always being perfect especially after going weeks without it

PERFECTLY IMPERFECT

——

There was a sexual suggestiveness about the toothpick poking from Harry's mouth, and its effect on you could only be attributed to your severe case of sleep deprivation. It was a stupid piece of wood, and yet how it was framed between his plush lips sent prickles of heat surging down your neck and spine. On second thought, perhaps it was the apron tied around his waist as he dipped ripe strawberries in melted chocolate for a Valentine's Day dessert—his long fingers working with skillful precision, the sleeves of his tight long-sleeve shirt rolled up, the romantic gesture of it all. No, maybe it was the baby sling wrapped around his shoulder that held your four-month-old daughter, who was watching his every move. God, and the way he was murmuring to her each step of what he was doing definitely contributed to your rising libido. It was a sight you were still getting used to. More remarkably, it validated your years-long yearning to have children with him.

If humble swagger existed, it came in the form of how Harry carried himself as a father. The casual way he interacted with your baby was as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Walking around the house with her on his hip, going about his daily routine. Always willing to step in to give you a moment to relax. He was dependable, and you cursed your hormones for reacting so rabidly to it.

Maybe the changes your mind and body had gone through were catching up. After months, you finally felt healed from the physical wounds of giving birth. No more stitches or soreness down below. No more bleeding.

Your desire for sex was... almost normal again. You were being a bit sheepish about initiating anything, so you sincerely hoped the hunger in your eyes was communicating to Harry what you couldn't say verbally. The problem, however, was that Harry was too enamored with your little girl to notice your longing gaze. She was the center of his universe now, and you couldn't blame him for orbiting her radiance. She brought a certain euphoria to each day.

You rested your chin on the back of the couch where you observed them and inhaled the sweet scent of chocolate. It was quiet moments like these, where baby cries paused, that warmed your soul. You took time to appreciate the beauty of home, with its familiar waves and friendly birds. The creak of the floorboards and the color of the walls. The rumble of your husband's voice and his gentle presence. And most lovely of all, the adorable coos coming from the life you created.

Your eyes shifted over to the kitchen table, where a tall glass vase with flowers sat. You had woken up this morning to Harry helping your daughter hold a pretty bouquet of peonies to present to you. It came with a note that read, You make our hearts bloom. We love you.

Life was chaotic lately, yet so very blissful.

Harry was humming now as he threw the toothpick away and set the dipped strawberries in the fridge to harden. The plump red flesh encased in delectable chocolate made your mouth water. Such a simple recipe, yet somehow Harry made them taste better than a gourmet baker ever could.

He shut the fridge and moved to the sink to wash his hands. He must have sensed your gaze because he looked over his shoulder and smiled. Just the sight of him in this new role caused a swell of emotion to crash against your chest and crack your heart open.

"I've got an audience," he remarked.

You just stared at his hands supporting your daughter's small body—beautiful, sculpted, and what you had been missing desperately on your skin. It was embarrassing to admit that ever since giving birth, the closest you and Harry had gotten to any sexual intimacy was dry humping. Even then, your stitches had still been healing, so the experience was never quite satisfactory. It was no surprise that you were growing impatient.

"What?" Harry asked, noticing your strange silence.

"Nothing," you murmured, feigning nonchalance.

He chuckled and walked over to you. "You're blushing."

Your palms flew to your cheeks. "I am?"

"Big time. Are you feeling okay?"

"I... yes, I'm just"—you fanned your overheated face—"feeling a lot of things right now."

His brows scrunched together. Men were so lucky not to experience the rollercoaster of female hormones. You would sound asinine if you attempted to explain why your body was responding to him doing nothing but being a good father.

"I'm stressing you out," Harry stated as a guess.

"No, not at all."

"You're having a hot flash," he guessed again.

Groaning, you dropped your head face-first onto the couch and mumbled, "I need sex."

"Say it again, please?"

You lifted your head and avoided contact as you repeated, "I need sex. I'm healed, and I want to take advantage of this urge before it goes away." Because it would. Your hormones were still regularizing post-birth, so you weren't going to count on getting your libido back to complete normalcy. Instead, you would pounce on the open opportunities.

Harry contemplated your confession for a while, making no show of judgment. "Any blood?" he asked.

"Nope."

"And the stitches?"

"They're dissolved. Can't even tell I pushed a nearly ten-pound baby out."

He smiled, albeit cautiously. "But how do you feel?"

"I'm fine, Harry," you assured. "If you're not feeling it, we don't have to do anything. Just, you know, giving you the green light."

A shadow of sincerity passed over his face. "Who said I'm not feeling it?" You shrugged, and he gently grabbed your chin to raise it. "Look at me." His green eyes held your gaze steadily. "You wanna try?"

"Yeah," you whispered. "I miss you."

"You have me," he said resolutely. "All of me, tonight."

"Oh," you said, not expecting him to jump on board so eagerly.

"Let's shoot for eight o'clock. When the little one goes to bed."

You broke out into a giggle. "So... a sex appointment."

Now it was his turn to blush. "I heard scheduling sex is supposed to help new parents reconnect."

A rush of heat spread to the tips of your fingers. You thought of the multiple instances when you and Harry consolidated spontaneity and sex. It often sprung upon you without warning, like a carnal beast clawing at your skin. And it always involved mutual desire, like a burning ball of tension the size of the sun. The house was memory-stained with reminders of all the ways your body had been worshiped. Over by the kitchen island, Harry had held you captive with his hips pressed flush against yours. The bay window in the living room had sometimes been blemished with handprints. But the bed in which you sleep and wake up to him every morning was where long, intense sessions happened. Harry slowly sliding into you during weekend sleep-ins, providing a warmth and fullness so heavenly. Late-night quickies after being away from each other all day, a little messy yet perfect all the same. Hell, you had even done it in the ocean under the moon. You wanted nothing more than to find that natural groove again.

"Okay." You reached out to squeeze his bicep. "I believe you."

"All right," he replied in the deep, sensual tone he reserved for intimate conversations like these. You looked downward, feeling giddy. Within milliseconds, Harry planted a hot, heavy kiss on your lips before walking.

With the way your heart fluttered, one would think you had just met him. But you knew his body exclusively, as he knew yours, and tonight would be a test.

——

You stood in the doorway of your closet, sifting through the three pairs of lingerie you owned. They were lacy little one-pieces in off-white, powder blue, and red. It was doubtful they would fit like they used to, but you craved wearing something other than baggy sweats and Harry's shirts. While it gave you pride that you grew life, an insecurity still planted its pesky seed inside. You hadn't looked at your bare body in the mirror since, honestly, you didn't have a clue. It would never look the same again, especially considering you didn't plan to only have one child.

There was a nervous tremor in your hands as you took the red lingerie off its hanger—a slimming color to hide the loose, extra skin that still remained postpartum. You thought about Harry and how he liked to strip away every last piece of fabric blocking him from his touch. Even before pregnancy, during sex, you had never felt the need to accentuate your physicality with frilly, feminine garments. Harry took you in just about anything. Unfortunately, as new parents, there was simply not enough time or energy to initiate anything more than mediocre makeouts. You felt foolish for even bringing up the prospect of sex earlier. Now there was an expectation, and you couldn't guarantee you wouldn't chicken out.

Why were you so jittery? He was your husband, for crying out loud. There was no one you felt more comfortable around.

With a huff, you started undressing yourself just as the sound of the blow dryer stopped. Harry would be ready any minute for this supposed sex appointment. Meanwhile, you were out of practice, self-conscious, and hopelessly horny—he was going to regret agreeing to this.

You tugged the lingerie on, feeling it cinch your torso and breasts. It was tight, the flimsy fabric holding on for dear life. The V-shaped cut revealed the stretch marks lining your hips. The lace was itchy and dug into your skin suffocatingly. Fuck, this was quickly turning into a self-enforced humiliation ritual.

The bathroom door slid open, and Harry emerged in just a pair of white boxers, his hair dry and fluffy. The leftover shower steam made his skin glow, as did the dim lighting. He was effortlessly handsome, while you stood there in too-tight lingerie wondering if you looked desirable enough to stimulate his sex drive. From your perspective, all signs pointed to not likely.

Harry slowly walked toward you, his eyes exploring every inch of your body, and you leaned against the wall while fidgeting with the lingerie's shoulder straps. In the silence of his appraisal, you awkwardly shuffled your feet—it was futile to fake confidence right now.

"My forever Valentine," Harry said quietly, immediately attaching his hands to your waist.

You practically whined, then muttered, "I look ridiculous."

"You're joking, right?" He bent his knees to be eye level with you, a near-crazed look on his face. "Right?"

"It barely fits, Harry."

A slow smirk stretched his lips. "That better not be the only time you say that tonight."

You glared at him for his crude joke and said, "This is silly."

"What is?"

"This whole... rendezvous."

"I think it's fun," Harry said with a carefree shrug.

"But it's different from other times," you admitted.

"How so?" He kissed your neck, his affection warm and a welcome distraction to your disoriented thoughts. He smelled ravishing, the subtle hints of his spice and black vanilla shower cleanser putting you under a spell. A pulse of appetency made you press against him.

"My body," you said.

His hands traveled to your backside, squeezing the flesh there. "This body? The one I'd get down on my knees for?"

In one fell swoop, all your internal heat returned with a rush. "It's kind of a mess," you replied. "I haven't shaved. And my stomach looks like a wrinkly prune, so there's that."

Harry traced his thumb under the lacy hem hugging your hips. "Doesn't bother me. Prunes are delicious."

Deep down, you knew he wouldn't care. He had loved every part of you through pregnancy, with all its mind-bending changes and symptoms. If he had found you sexy then, he would appreciate your appearance now. Though it would take time for you to truly believe it.

"I just want this to be good," you murmured, resting your forehead on his firm chest.

"Hey." He lifted your head and cradled it. "We'll find a way to make this work. Let's take it slow." You nodded, and he leaned closer to whisper, "I know how to get you wet. Don't think I've forgotten."

Truthfully, you were already wet, but you didn't say anything as Harry grabbed your hand and squeezed it before guiding you to the bed. While he had been taking a shower, you had fluffed the pillows and straightened the sheets. You had even sat there and mentally filtered through what positions would be most reasonable. Sex was to be careful tonight. No need for anything crazy.

You climbed into bed, and Harry remained standing. The outline of his hardened cock pushed against his boxers. A flame ignited low in your belly—to get to have him inside you after so long was exhilarating.

When he didn't move to join you, you asked, "What are you doing?"

"Following your lead," he said. "Where do you want me?"

"Um... on your side, I guess. Next to me."

Harry didn't waste any time and got into position, his hand propping his head up. There was an expectant openness in his eyes, and you almost laughed. This was out of the ordinary, but it somehow eased your nerves.

"I want to face each other," you added. "And I... I want you to do that thing where you hold my leg up against your hip."

He hummed, his eyes flashing with something lustful. "Understood. But you're going to have to take your lingerie off."

"Right." You swallowed nervously. "I'll do that."

You stripped while Harry removed his boxers and rolled on a condom. He watched your breasts bounce free, watched the lace slide down your torso and legs. It was your armor against the reality that your body wasn't the same as the one Harry had touched for the first time. But you trusted him and his admiration for the life you brought into the world. There was nothing to be ashamed of.

You lie bare beside Harry now. His gaze turned fond, taking in all of you—no judgment, no confusion, no surprise. But why would there be? He'd been there when your pants stopped fitting during pregnancy. When you hadn't been able to shave anything below your bump. When you had needed help getting off the couch. Christ, he had seen you give birth. It didn't get much more intimate than that.

"Come here," Harry said softly. You scooted down to lie on the mattress facing him. "You're beautiful. This version of your body isn't something to dwell on. Every stretch mark, every wrinkle, every curve is a testament to your amazing ability to grow life."

You were speechless, so you just sprung forward and kissed him

"Ready?" He smiled against your mouth, and you returned it.

"Ready."

"I'm going to go slow. Tell me if it hurts." Harry grabbed his cock, holding the tip against your entrance. Without you needing to remind him, he bent your leg to rest against his hip, opening you further. He slid himself in, only an inch or two, keeping his eyes locked on yours. It was slow, like he promised, but there was a slight burning sensation. You inhaled sharply and gripped his wrist.

"Too fast?"

You moaned, half in pleasure and half in discomfort. "No, it just... feels rough. Even with the condom on."

"Okay. I won't go further."

"Maybe go deeper and it'll stop."

"No," Harry said, pulling out. "I'm not about to risk making you bleed or delaying your healing. Absolutely not."

"But—”

"But nothing. Your body's obviously not ready yet, and that's okay."

"I'm sorry," you whispered sadly.

"Don't be," he said, stroking your hair. "You thought you were healed, but it's hard to know for sure without actually having sex."

You let out a disappointed sigh. "Well, this was a bust. Back to dry humping for the foreseeable future."

"I'm not complaining." Harry rolled onto his back, then yanked the sheets over his boner. 

"You're serious?"

He patted his lap. "Hop on, baby."

Laughing, you straddled him for yet another clumsy experience. But with his determination to make it enjoyable, it would be perfectly imperfect.

——

[tan1shere]

omg yesss i clicked on the wrong account😭 but i love ur writing and would love to see ur take on smth like that! maybe smth based off of that one lyric from the weeknd “Wanna fuck a skinny model right before her runway show, And we did it on the floor, that's why she walkin' kind of funny” yk ? sorry for the mix up!

Your Secret

Billie Eilish x vs female reader !

A/n: you're completely ok love ! I hope you enjoy <3 - update I went into vs today and ugh I'm thinking of another similar fic 😩

Summary: It wasn't Vitorias secret anymore. It was yours.

Warnings: smut, use of the name daddy, dunno if there's anything else to report yall should know the deal by now !

Tags: @trulyy-yourzz @eilishslut @chrissv4mp @n0vabug @dollyvuu @dollarbils @sweetcherriexs @bilsdillldough @mystiquemm

Masterlist

Was it wrong? Possibly, but you couldn't care less. Whenever you had a show she was there watching, but you ofcourse had to have your fun before hand. She claimed you looked extra tasty in your outfit and needed to do unspeakable things to you. It was your secret. Nobody even knew you were together, nor suspected anything. They might've known you were friends but that's common in the celeb world. Everyone knew everyone.

You were about to go on in 15, but you feel hands on your waist in your dressing room. You knew it was her hands. "Hi." She spins you to face her. "Hey." - "you smell good." You breathe out, then in. Taking it in. "Yeah?" She says going to kiss your neck. "Bub-" She hums in response. "Not the neck we talked about this." But she wasn't playing. Not today. You'd always say to leave hickey's in spots you two could see, but considering the time she had, she gave 0 fucks today. She needed to ravish you and fast.

"Bills-" Ears were off. Not hearing a single thing coming out of your mouth. "P-please." You then moan as you feel her bite, her grip on your waist tightening. She was feral today. "Babe, I-" she turns you around, backing you up against a wall. Your heart picks up, what if someone came in. "You, we-" She pulls back. "You've never complained before when we do this?" Shes right you don't, but something seems more dangerous today. That and the fact your covered in purple and red splotches. Her body presses against yours more and you feel it. "Billie." She smirks. "What?" She knew what, but time was ticking and she needed to fuck you.

You stay silent. "I know you can feel it hm?" You swallow. Deciding to give in and let her do whatever she needs. When all of a sudden, you're laying on the carpet and her body is hovering above yours. Yet you can still feel it with how close she is. And it's driving you crazy. Your needs growing by the second, but you hear her belt jingle, as she unbuckles it. Everything was speedy, you probably had about 10 minutes left, maybe less. Her fingers move to the lingerie you were wearing, just moving it to the side as she gets the fake dick out.

You were glad there was a time limit, because she'd forever tease you, taking as much time as possible until you were a mess for her. But, she now realizes she could just snap her finger and you'd be on your knees, in a puddle. You feel the tip of it against your folds, her moving it to your entrance soon after. Hastily slipping in, and not surprisingly with ease. Her finger moves down to your pussy. "You're very wet, wonder why." She was too cocky for her own good. Her pace instantly harsh but you sure as hell didn't mind.

"Who got you wet huh?" Her face was so close to yours, moving her lips down to your cheek. Your neck. "Y-." But her hand grips your jaw. "The word I'm after starts with a completely different letter. You know this." You gulp, closing your eyes. "Daddy did.." You silently say, breathing heavily as she picks up speed. "Didn't quite catch that, what?" You open your eyes to look right at her. "Daddy, made me this wet." Her cockiness returns, smirking down at you. "Good girl, much better. And who's going to make this pretty angels legs shake?" You choke on your spit as she snaps her hips, harder.

Your head spins as you try get out the answer. "D-daddy." You stammered, feeling your release approaching. And within seconds you're leaking all over the fake cock. Breathing heavily as you come down from the high. She pulls out, earning a whine from you. She takes it off, going to grab some tissues to clean you up. Adjusting your outfit back the way it was. She gets you to stand, chuckling as you wobble. Giving your lips a sloppy kiss. "3 minutes, angel!" Someone calls, you swallow. Having no time to do all you needed to. Luckily there was only two hickeys.

Unluckily they were both in visible spots. Your heart still beating fast, you put the white wings on and go for the door. "Hey baby." Billie says, sprawled out on a couch in your dressing room. She had been watching you struggle to put the finishing touches on, very amused at her work. "Just remember who got you like that as you're walking out. All those eyes on you for the wrong reasons need to know who you belong to." She winks. You bite your lip. This was not going to be easy to do. Wasn't much of a secret anymore either.

[corroded-hellfire]

i saw this tiktok and i was wondering if u could write reader who does this for eddie on valentine’s day?

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZP8Ykn9DA/

My deepest apologies that I didn’t get this done in time for Valentine’s Day. Pls blame the flu and pls enjoy this little blurb 💕

Words: 1.6k

“I have no idea what to get him.”

You sigh as you exit the bookstore into the mall atrium. There’s an open table near Orange Julius and you head in its direction. The legs of the chair scrape against the linoleum flooring as you pull it out and gracelessly fall into it. Max takes the seat across the table from you and gives you a thoroughly unimpressed look.

“You’re kidding me, right?” she asks. “You could hand him a Q-tip and he’d be thrilled. Eddie doesn’t give a shit about presents. But he’s completely over the moon for you.”

“I know.” Despite the whine in your tone, there’s a smile on your face. It still feels like you have to pinch yourself every time you think about how much Eddie loves you. “I just want to give him something meaningful. That he’ll truly like. What did you get Lucas?”

Max shrugs and inspects the nails on her right hand.

“Nothing yet. There’s still plenty of time between now and Valentine’s Day for him to piss me off. So I’ll probably end up getting him something that I want too, in case he’s an asshole and I decide to keep it.”

“You’re no help.” You slide down in your chair and run your hands over your face.

The competing smells off the food court waft over to you. As appealing as they’d usually be, you’re too stressed to be tempted by any of it. Despite Max’s claim that there’s plenty of time between now and Valentine’s Day, one week didn’t seem like a whole lot of time for you to find the perfect gift for your boyfriend. Nothing jumped out at you in the bookstore—except the books you know Eddie already has and loves. None of the clothes in these new fashionable stores had anything that Eddie would wear. That significantly narrows down the shopping options at Starcourt.

Your eyes scan over the stores that are visible from your seat at the table and your attention snags on Guitar Center. Without speaking a word to your friend, you push yourself out of the hard chair and head towards the store. Max follows along behind you, heaving a small sigh.

“Do you have any idea what you’re looking for?” Max asks as you look at the different electric guitars displayed high up on a wall.

“Not a clue.”

Max nods her head as she strums her fingers along the strings of an acoustic guitar at eye level.

“What if you made something for Eddie?” she asks.

“I thought about that,” you answer with a sigh. “I just don’t know what I’d–huh.”

The abrupt cut-off of your sentence catches Max’s attention and she attempts to follow your line of sight. She’s left confused though when she sees your gaze trained on a medium-sized bag of blue and green guitar picks.

“Um…” Max hums and slips her hands into the back pockets of her jeans when you never complete your thought. “Care to share with the class?”

You cock your head to the side as you look at the picks.

“Well, it’s just…” You take a few steps forward and grab the package from the shelf. “These kind of remind me of flower petals. What if there was a way I could…”

“Yes!” The redhead excitedly steps around you so that you’re speaking face-to-face. “You could use a wire as the stems.”

This is the first real idea you’ve had for a present for Eddie but…

“It’s not…dumb, is it? Like, childish to make this for him?”

“Childish? Are you kidding me?” Max’s eyebrows don’t look like they can raise any higher on her forehead. “Babe, our boyfriends are in a club where they play a fantasy game. With made-up magical characters. Do you remember what the last new character that Lucas came up with was named? Sir Shits-a-lot. And all the guys found it hilarious.”

“And he had the power to give everyone else diarrhea yeah…” You sigh and nod your head, remembering that very long week.

“Right,” Max says. “So, I think these homemade flowers are exquisitely elegant in comparison.”

With a nod of finality, you grip the picks tighter in your hand.

“Thanks, Lady Shits-a-lot.”

When Valentine’s Day arrives, you have the bouquet nicely tucked into a box, wrapped up with a red bow. Eddie’s van pulls into your driveway at 7:02am like clockwork, and you hop inside with your backpack and gift.

“Hey, gorgeous,” Eddie greets, his smile bright and his cheeks red from the cold outside.

“Happy Valentine's Day, Eds!” You lean over and press a kiss to his cheek. It’s not good enough, apparently, as Eddie whines and chases your mouth with his own. With a soft chuckle, you press your lips to his and give him a proper kiss.

“Thank you,” he says pointedly. “And happy Valentine's Day to you, my love.”

You drop your backpack at your feet and settle the gift box in your lap. When you raise your head you see there’s a gift wrapped in red paper sitting on the dashboard between you and Eddie.

“Should we wait, or…?” He asks when he sees you spot the present. “I don’t know if you had some plan or idea or anything but I’m just really fucking excited to give you your present.”

“Screw plans,” you say and gently toss Eddie’s gift into his lap. “I’m excited too.”

“See? This is why we’re perfect together.” Your boyfriend winks, grabs your present off the dashboard, and hands it to you. “You go first.”

It’s impossible to get any traction on the wrapping paper while wearing your black mittens, so you tug them off and go at it again. The wrapping tears away to reveal a purple paperback book staring up at you, the cover dotted in imagery that you’ve come to know quite well. D20s and various other D&D symbols surround the title that’s in bold black letters: “Dungeons and Dates.”

“It’s a romancey kind of book, but the love interest is a Dungeon Master in his school’s D&D club,” Eddie says. You look over at him to see him grinning nervously. “It’s me!”

With a gentle chuckle, you lean over and press kisses all along his mouth.

“I love it. I can’t wait to read it.”

“Really?” Eddie doesn’t look completely sold.

“Yes,” you insist, picking the book up from your lap. “It’s about damn time someone wrote a love interest that’s almost as amazing as my boyfriend.”

Eddie’s cheeks turn a slightly darker shade of red, but this time it’s not from the weather.

“Okay, my turn,” he says.

Nimble fingers quickly undo the bow on the box, and before reaching to take the lid off, he slips the red ribbon beneath his curly locks and uses it to tie his hair into a low ponytail. You chuckle fondly as you reach out and stroke the bunched-up curls. The red definitely looks good in his dark hair.

Back to business, Eddie lifts the lid off the box and sets it down between the two of you. You study his face as he looks down at his present. It takes a few seconds for Eddie’s eyes to absorb what he’s seeing and his brain to figure out what it is.

“Holy shit.” Eddie reaches down and gently picks up the bouquet by its thick silver base stem. He turns it this way and that, the dim sunlight coming through the front windshield reflecting on the diverting branches of thin wire and the marbled blues and greens that make up the petals. “This is so fucking cool. Where did you get it?”

“I made it.”

Your words cause Eddie to take his eyes off his present for the first time. The look of shock on his face grows as he widens his eyes and his plump pink lips part.

“You…made this?”

“Yeah.”

Eddie looks back at the flowers, appreciating them in a whole new light as he tries to find how they were put together.

“How?” he asks.

“Just some wires, picks, and pliers,” you say with a shrug.

“Sweetheart, this is…incredible. Holy shit.”

His praise warms your cheeks and your heart.

“You really like them?”

Eddie glances over at you and his expression asks if you’re crazy.

“This is the coolest thing I’ve ever gotten. Thank you, baby. Thank you so much.”

You reach over and take his free hand in your own.

“You are very welcome.”

You just watch as Eddie keeps inspecting his present from every angle.

“We should get a vase and some water to put these in.” The quirk on one side of his mouth clues you in that he’s kidding around.

“Ah, yes,” you say with a sigh. “Just what they need: rust.”

Eddie laughs and brings your entwined hands up to his mouth to kiss along your knuckles.

“Think I can leave them in the van for the day? I’d hate for them to shrivel up and die.”

Now you roll your eyes at your boyfriend’s goofiness.

“I think they’ll survive,” you reply. “They’re pretty tough.”

“Or I can just bring them in and show off to everyone how much my girl spoils me. How goddamn lucky I am.”

You grin. “Will you make a grand display of showing them off? Say, by walking across cafeteria tables and making a proclamation for the entire room to hear?”

“Yeah, that sounds like me.” Eddie gives you a wink.

“How romantic,” you coo, fluttering your eyelashes at him.

He throws you another wink.

“Only the best for my Valentine.”

[plaidcowboy]

I need more soft or wtv anything !guarddog!rafe pls bb tysm

𐅹GUARDDOG!RAFE being a repellent 𐂯 ⟡ ݁ ݁ when you don’t know it◞ 𖥔 ݁ ˖ ⋆ ₊ ⋆ ㆍ

˖ ⋆ ₊ ⋆ ㆍ

you wouldn’t say you were completely oblivious. but you sure weren’t completely aware. rafe was fine with you going to outings and being with friends. the last thing he wanted to do was keep you from having fun. but you going out meant he also had an invitation.

which is how you found yourself chatting with a girl you just met, not aware rafe was behind you. at first, he kept his eye on you from a distance. there was no apparent threat to you that he saw. then you walked up to a girl who started getting handsy. a shove there while laughing and a slap to your shoulder there. rafe didn’t care how harmless she looked, she was touching you. hitting you, even.

so he made his way behind you, a looming presence while you two spoke. the girl noticed. you didn’t. rafe shot daggers at the girl the entire time, even building up a snarl at her hand when she went to touch you again. the girl quickly pulled back, not sure what rafe could do. she didn’t want to find out.

when you became bored and walked away, rafe stayed behind with the girl. she went to turn and walk away when rafe caught her by the hand. she gasped, turning around. rafe held up her hand, “you like having this right?” he spoke at a dull tone. the girl hesitantly nodded.

“then keep it to yourself,” he roughly shoved her hand away and the girl scurried from him. rafe watched as she left the area entirely. he didn’t think he was being that intimidating.

quickly remembering you wandered off, rafe scanned around for you. there you were, in a conversation with a guy, surrounded by his friends. rafe made his way to the sofa behind you, settling down. he widened his legs, leaning back, and watching you.

he glanced to the side when he felt movement, a guy next to him shifting on the sofa, eyes on your legs. the guy smirked to himself, looking over to rafe when he felt eyes searing into the side of his head.

“i fight about her,” he spoke, still in a flat tone. he flexed his hands in his laps, an automatic response when talking about guarding you. how he loved the bruises that decorated his knuckles from fists thrown at those who got too close to you.

the guy rolled his eyes, scoffing out a nervous whatever before leaving from the sofa. he caught the eye of another guy who was staring at you. rafe shifted a little so the hem of his shirt slightly rose, showing the handle of the gun he had tucked in his waistline. the guy froze, staring at it. rafe turned to look back at you when you sighed, “hmm, i wonder where my boyfriend is,” you questioned aloud. all of the guys that surrounded you, that noticed rafe and his weapon, shifted their eyes to nervously look at rafe.

he gave a smirk, liking the fact they all could tell who you belonged to without him saying anything. you followed their eyes and spun around to see rafe who quickly tugged his shirt back in place so you wouldn’t see what he was hiding. you didn’t need to see him threatening these people.

“rafe! there you are, where were you?” you spoke excitedly. rafe couldn’t stop the spread of his smirk.

[heliosunny]

Hello love your writing style and ideas !!

can you write au siren reader x Phainon but not the kind that sings with sweet deception—hers is a quiet, haunting presence, a being who does not need to lure with honeyed songs. . She does not chase her prey; she waits, watches, lets the prey come to her and whether by choice or by fate, all who cross her path will find themselves drawn into the abyss.

I wrote the yandere one is Phainon *cough if I'm mistaken, please forgive me.

Yandere!Phainon x Siren!Reader

Phainon had spent his life hunting monsters.

The sea was full of them—things with too many teeth, too many eyes, lurking beneath the waves where no man dared tread. He had slain creatures the size of ships, things whispered about in fearful legends. The bounty was good, the thrill intoxicating.

But you were something else entirely.

You looked at him from the water’s edge. A haunting silhouette against the crashing waves.

He had been told sirens lured men with songs, full of honeyed lies, but you did not sing. You did not need to. Something deeper, something older called to him. The tide lapped at his boots, coaxing, beckoning.

He should have turned back.

Instead, he returned. Again and again. Until the sea smelled less like salt and more like you, until the nights on his ship felt hollow without your gaze watching.

The first time, it was a corpse.

Phainon stood at the water’s edge, the scent of blood thick in the air. The body—a man, throat slit clean, slumped from his grasp and hit the waves with a hollow splash.

“I thought of you” he murmured, “While I was cutting him open. I wondered if you’d like it fresh.”

The second time, the offering was still alive.

The man kicked, thrashed, screamed. Phainon held him by the hair, forcing him to kneel in the shallow water. The fear in his victim’s eyes was nothing compared to the madness in Phainon’s own.

“She’s watching” he whispered to the struggling man, “You should feel honored.”

Then he looked up, as if seeking approval. His hands trembled—not with hesitation, but with exhilaration. “Do you like it better this way? When they’re still warm?”

Phainon smiled. “I’ll bring more.”

---

Phainon sat on the shore, a strange grin playing at his lips. The moonlight turned his silver hair ghostly, his hands moving deftly over the instrument. He did not look surprised to see you—no, if anything, he looked satisfied.

“You’re here” he mused, fingers never faltering.

The melody shifted, softer now, coaxing. It did not pull like a siren’s song, but it lingered in the air, refusing to be ignored.

“Can you understand me?” His voice was almost teasing, “Or have I been speaking to the waves all this time?”

You replied him with nothing but silence.

Phainon chuckled, but there was no humor in it. His hands stilled on the strings. “You know,” he said, “I’m an expert.”

“If you don’t come to me, I’ll find a way to get you myself.”

The tide licked at the shore, rising as if in warning. Phainon's fingers pressed idly against the strings of his instrument, though the song had long since faded.

“I was starting to think you were nothing but a shadow in the water.”

You did not respond.

The wind howled between you both, salty mist clinging to your hair.

“You believe you can take me?” You asked at last.

Phainon laughed. It was not the laugh of a man deterred, but of a man entertained. “Oh, dear siren,” he murmured, standing slowly, his boots sinking into the wet sand. “You mistake me.”

“I don’t need to take you.” His fingers brushed over the hilt of the blade at his hip, not as a threat, but as a promise. “I just need to make sure you never leave me.”

----

Humans had no strength in the water. You knew this. Had seen them flail and drown, helpless against the current. Humans were fragile creatures swayed by fear, by curiosity, by the gentle pull of the tide. You did not need to sing, nor whisper sweet deceptions. You only needed to wait.

And they came.

The first was a sailor. He did not see you at first—only the glint of something pale beneath the waves, something shifting in the current. He stepped closer.

By the time he realized his mistake, the ocean had already swallowed him whole.

The second was younger, trembling as he peered over the railing of his ship, searching for whatever force had dragged his crewmate down. He never saw the hands that pulled him under.

The third did not even scream.

One by one, you took them, the water welcoming their bodies, their struggles fading into the deep. The abyss always called, and they, like all before them, answered.

splash

Phainon.

You turned, expecting him on the shore, but no—he had come from above, from a ship lurking just beyond the reach of the waves.

And before you could move, something cold snapped around your wrist.

Bracelet?

Phainon grinned, hair fanning in the water like silver thread, eyes burning with something near-manic. “Got you.”

Phainon had no place in the water.

He was human— no matter how steady his hands, no matter how many monsters he had slain. The ocean did not care. It did not recognize him.

And it swallowed him whole.

The weight of his own foolishness dragging him down. He had leapt in willingly, with no plan, no survival in mind.

Typical.

You swept him under without hesitation.

The current embraced him instantly, pulling him deeper, his body twisting in the tide. His fingers brushed against you, grasping for something, anything. But you had already let go.

Bubbles burst from his lips, frantic, uneven. His arms thrashed, desperate to break the water’s grip. It was pathetic.

You turned away.

And yet—

Something in you twisted.

A pull urging you to turn back.

You did not want to.

But you did.

You moved before you could think.

Your arms wrapped around him, dragging him up, breaking through the surface with force. His head lolled against your shoulder, his breath nonexistent. The waves carried you both, faster than they should have, as if the sea itself was trying to rid itself of him.

You pulled him onto the sand, his body cold, heavy. For a moment, you hovered, staring at the rise and fall of his chest—shallow, struggling, but alive.

You should not have done this.

With one last glance, you turned and slipped back into the depths, vanishing into the tide before he could wake.

----

The thing on your wrist pulsed, faint but constant, sinking into your skin like rot. A weight that did not belong, that was not of the sea. And worse—

It would not come off.

You clawed at it, pried at the lock, but the metal held fast, unyielding. The more you struggled, the more it burned, a creeping heat that should not exist in the abyss.

It was wrong. It did not belong here.

Phainon.

Even now, his presence lingered, his touch wrapped around you in this cursed thing he had left behind. He was not here, but somehow, he had still reached you.

And for the first time in your existence, the ocean did not feel safe.

---

The cave was silent, save for the steady drip of water against stone.

You sat near the entrance, where the tide reached just enough to lap at your legs. The bracelet on your wrist gleamed dully in the dim light, unyielding no matter how many times you tried to pry it off.

Your nails scraped against it, frustration curling deep in your chest.

Phainon had done this.

You did not know how, did not know why, but the truth was undeniable.

You should not have saved him.

Fine.

If you could not remove it yourself, you would find the one who had placed it.

And this time, you would not hesitate.

---

You had tracked him to this place. A hidden inlet carved into the cliffside, shielded from the open sea, the entrance barely visible against the jagged rock. It was a place humans rarely came, yet his scent lingered here, fresh, undeniable.

He had been waiting.

You emerged from the water slowly, deliberately, stepping onto the slick stone with movements far too steady for something that should not belong on land. Your tail had given way to legs, but the shift felt sluggish, unnatural. The bracelet burned against your wrist as if resisting the transformation, as if tethering you to something unseen.

You did not call for him. You did not need to.

You felt his presence before you saw him.

“You came.”

Phainon stepped forward, into the dim light filtering through the cave’s mouth. His clothes were damp, his silver hair still tousled from the ocean air.

“I knew you would.”

Your gaze drifted to his hands, resting casually at his sides.

Slowly, you lifted your wrist, the thing glinting dully in the weak light.

“What did you do?”

“Ah. You noticed.”

“Remove it.”

“I could,” he admitted, his voice light, conversational. “But why would I?”

“You have no power here, human.”

Phainon hummed, stepping closer, unbothered by the threat laced in your tone. “Don’t I?”

You stiffened. A slow, creeping heat crawled up your arm, spreading through your veins, dragging at something within you.

Phainon watched you carefully, eyes gleaming with that same maddening certainty.

“You feel it, don’t you? Now you’re bound.” His fingers twitched at his sides. “To me.”

“You think this will keep you safe?”

Phainon exhaled a laugh “Safe?” He leaned in just slightly, as if daring you to move. “Who said anything about safe?”

“I can take you with me,” he said, voice smooth, deliberate. “But I didn’t.”

The accessory on your wrist pulsed, a silent reminder of his touch, his claim.

“I gave you your freedom.” He tilted his head, studying your expression, his eyes gleaming like a predator waiting for its prey to realize it had already been caught. “And that’s generous of me.”

His smile sharpened, his chest rising and falling just slightly faster, as if he had been waiting for this—waiting for you to acknowledge him, to see him, to let him stand in your presence.

“Ah…” His voice came quieter, more breath than sound, as if he had to steady himself. “You’re—”

He cut himself off, exhaling a soft, shaking laugh.

Then, without hesitation, he dropped to one knee.

Not in surrender.

In devotion.

You stared at him.

Phainon—kneeling, breathing uneven, staring up at you as if he had finally reached the thing he had been chasing all this time.

This was a human. A creature of land, of fleeting years, of brittle bones and fragile flesh.

You did not take things like this.

You consumed, you drowned, you let them sink into the abyss and never resurface. You did not let them linger, did not let them follow you, did not let them worship you like this.

Your lips pressed into a thin line. “You are mistaken.”

“Am I?”

“You think you have done something that matters.” You lifted your wrist. “You think this changes what you are.”

His grin widened.

“Oh, I know what I am.” He tilted his head, silver hair falling over his forehead, breath still slightly uneven as he watched you, enthralled. “The real question is—do you know what you are now?”

You did not answer.

Because you did not need to.

You were what you had always been. A creature of the abyss. A hunter that did not chase, a being that did not need to lure, because all things that crossed your path fell eventually.

Phainon was no different.

And yet—he was still here.

Still breathing.

Still kneeling before you.

You lowered your wrist slowly. “You will get nothing from me.”

Phainon’s grin did not falter. “I already have.”

You moved before he could react.

Sharp teeth sank into his flesh, the taste of salt and blood blooming across your tongue. His breath hitched, but there was no pain—no fear—only that same maddening exhilaration.

You ripped yourself away, your eyes locking with his for the briefest moment—one final warning, one final denial—before the sea surged around you.

And then you were gone.

The cold water swallowed you whole, the ocean embracing you once more. You did not look back.

But Phainon—

He remained kneeling, staring at the crimson dripping from the fresh wound on his hand.

Slowly, he exhaled, his fingers flexing as if memorizing the sting.

Then he smiled.

A deep, satisfied grin, as if the pain only proved something he had already known.

You had left your mark on him.

And that, to him, was enough.

----

The land felt unnatural beneath your feet.

It was not the first time you had taken this form, but it had never felt like this before—heavy, constricting, a shape that did not suit you.

Still, you moved without hesitation.

Phainon’s dwelling was easy to find. He had left traces of himself everywhere—the scent of salt and steel, the remnants of blood staining the docks, the unmistakable pull of the thing on your wrist that told you he was close.

He had made no effort to hide.

You entered with ease, silent as the tide, your presence slipping through the space like a current unseen. He would not know you like this. He could not. To him, you were just another figure in the world of men, another stranger walking paths that were never meant for you.

“You should’ve knocked.”

His voice cut through the still air.

Phainon stood just beyond the dim candlelight, leaning against the wooden frame of the room, his arms crossed loosely over his chest. He looked... amused.

“Well?” His eyes glinted, sharp and knowing. “Aren’t you going to introduce yourself?”

Your gaze flickered past him, tracing the walls of the dimly lit room.

They were covered in remnants of things that did not belong on land.

Bones, scales, preserved limbs from creatures that had once moved through the depths with silent grace. And among them—stuffed figures, carefully stitched, resembling the very things he had hunted. Trophies. Proof of conquest.

A silent declaration of power.

This was the world he belonged to.

You turned your attention back to him. “I apologize,” you said, your voice smooth, carefully measured. “I did not know this was your home.”

Phainon’s gaze didn’t waver. He was studying you now. Not like when he looked at you in the water. Not like when he had dropped to his knees, breathing uneven, his voice trembling with something unhinged and worshipful.

This was different.

Because he did not recognize you.

You offered the slightest tilt of your head. “My name is—” you paused, giving him a name that was not your own, one that fit the form you had taken.

Phainon didn’t react immediately. He simply held your gaze, as if assessing whether you were worth acknowledging at all.

“Hm.” He pushed off the wooden frame, stepping fully into the dim light. “And what do you want?”

To hunt the monster in front of you. Him.

----

You moved carefully, your steps barely making a sound against the worn floor. Phainon had already gone to sleep—or so you had assumed. His breathing had evened out behind closed doors, his presence heavy but unmoving.

It gave you time.

Your fingers ghosted over surfaces as you searched, slipping between shadows, eyes scanning the strange collection that surrounded you.

The house was decorated with death.

Everywhere you looked, pieces of creatures long lost to the sea were displayed like trophies—monsters pinned to walls, their hollow eyes frozen in expressions they had never worn in life. A cruel mimicry of their existence, preserved only to serve as proof of their defeat.

And among them—

Some were familiar.

The curve of a fin, the shape of a claw, remnants of things that once swam in the abyss where you ruled.

You turned your attention back to your search. You needed something—anything—to break the annoying thing on your wrist.

Eventually, your steps led you into a smaller chamber. The air was damp, cooler than the rest of the house.

A bathroom.

Your eyes flickered toward the tub—and stilled.

The water was filled to the brim.

Strange. Phainon had gone to sleep. Humans did not need water in such quantities.

The liquid was still, reflecting the dim glow of the lantern outside the doorway. But as you stepped closer, a ripple passed through its surface—slow, unnatural, like something unseen had disturbed it from below.

You ignored the faint unease creeping into your chest, instead stepping toward the sink. If nothing else, you would wash your hands, rid yourself of the lingering sensation of this place before continuing your search.

The water ran cool over your skin, grounding you. You let out a slow breath, muscles relaxing just slightly—

Then your gaze drifted back to the tub.

The water’s color was wrong. Dark, shifting. A shade that did not belong in a home on land, thick with something more than just salt. It almost seemed to breathe, pulsing in slow waves against the porcelain edges.

Your brows furrowed.

Push

A force slammed into your back before you could react, knocking you off balance. Your hands caught the edge of the tub for the briefest second before another shove drove you forward—

And then you were submerged.

The second the water swallowed you, your body betrayed you. Pain lanced through your legs, twisting through your bones like an unseen force was dragging you back to what you were meant to be. The shift came violently, your skin splitting, merging, reshaping.

The familiar weight of your tail returned, but—

Your upper body remained unchanged, still locked in its human form, even as the rest of you was forced back into what you truly were. Panic surged, but before you could push yourself free, fingers curled over the edge of the tub.

Phainon. Again.

His grip was steady, his knuckles white against the porcelain as he leaned over you, looking down with something unreadable in his gaze.

This had been planned.

“Caught you.”

"You know," he murmured, flexing the mark of his injured hand, the blood welling where your teeth had sunk deep, "I almost didn’t recognize you."

He tilted his head, gaze dragging over your face, your body—your still-human form above the water, the betraying flicker of your tail below.

"But you should’ve been more careful."

A breath of laughter escaped him, "The way you move. The way you watch." His eyes gleamed, sharp with something close to amusement. "You were always so quiet."

He leaned down, one hand braced against the porcelain, keeping you caged.

"But no human has ever looked at me the way you do."

"No human hesitates before speaking like you do."

"And no human would ever think they could hide from me."

His free hand lifted, trailing over the water’s surface, fingertips barely grazing the liquid that had forced your transformation.

"Now that you’re here…" He hummed, his expression unreadable, but his next words were clear, "I think I’ll keep you."

Water surged as you twisted violently, your tail thrashing against the porcelain. With a sharp flick, you sent a wave straight into Phainon’s face, forcing him to pull back, the liquid splattering against his clothes, his skin.

You didn’t waste a second.

Hands gripping the sides of the tub, you tried to pull yourself free, the weight of the water slowing you down but not stopping you. Your muscles tensed, every instinct screaming to get away, to get out, but a strong hand clamped onto your shoulder.

Before you could react, Phainon shoved you back down.

The force sent you crashing beneath the surface, the water swallowing you whole. It dragged at your skin, the strange substance wrapping around you like a second set of hands, pulling, twisting—

And then the last remnants of your human form shattered.

Your body shifted entirely, the final traces of your disguise ripped away as your tail fully emerged, scales gleaming dark beneath the unnatural light.

You gasped sharply as you resurfaced, claws scraping against the slick porcelain, but before you could lash out, something warm pressed against your shoulder.

Teeth.

A sharp sting bloomed as Phainon’s mouth closed over your skin.

A growl rumbled in your throat, low and threatening, but he didn’t pull away. His fingers dug into your arm, holding you in place, his breath warm against your damp skin.

The pressure of his teeth lingered even as he finally released you.

Then he lifted his gaze to meet yours, and the look in his eyes sent a chill down your spine.

"That," he said, "was for trying to run."

Before you could pull away, his grip on your wrist tightened.

Then, without hesitation, he sank his teeth into your hand.

A sharp sting shot up your arm.

"Let go."

You did what you must, you commanded him to.

For a moment, his fingers slackened, his pupils dilating slightly. His body swayed just the faintest bit forward, caught on the hook of your call, just as countless others had before.

But then—

His breath steadied.

A slow, knowing smirk spread across his lips.

And from beneath his soaked shirt, he pulled something into view.

A dark, worn amulet hung from a chain, the metal glinting in the dim light, etched with carvings you could not immediately decipher.

"Did you really think it would be that easy?" His voice was calm, almost amused, his grip tightening once more.

"Why do you think I can hunt other ones?"

Your eyes snapped to the amulet, realization settling in.

That was why he had been able to hunt. Why your kind had never been able to pull him into the depths as easily as the others.

Your attempt to escape was swift—your body surged forward, water splashing violently as you twisted, tail coiling with the force needed to propel yourself away.

But Phainon was faster.

A hand shot out, seizing your wrist with a strength that sent a jolt through your bones. Before you could react, before you could tear yourself free, a sharp yank sent you crashing back into the water.

The tub overflowed, liquid spilling onto the floor, but neither of you cared.

You thrashed, snarling, claws raking against his arm. But Phainon only gritted his teeth, his grip ironclad as he pressed down, forcing you deeper into the water.

The strange substance swirled around you, clinging, binding, warping.

Your muscles locked. A cold sensation seeped into your skin, into your veins—an unnatural weight, something that latched onto the very essence of what you were. Your vision blurred for a moment.

You tried to lurch forward, but your body barely responded.

And Phainon—Phainon only watched.

"You feel it, don’t you?"

You bared your teeth, refusing to acknowledge it. Refusing to let him see the way your chest tightened, the way your limbs felt heavier.

But he already knew.

His hand lifted, fingers brushing the bracelet still bound to your wrist.

"It’s not just some ordinary restraint," he continued, tilting his head. "You thought I was careless, didn’t you? That I just let you slip away before?"

He leaned in, "I was never letting you go."

You hissed, tail lashing, but the motion was sluggish, weaker than before.

"Fight all you want," he mused, fingers pressing lightly against your jaw, tilting your face toward him. "It won’t change anything."

"I told you, didn’t I? If you wouldn’t come to me…"

His fingers trailed down your throat, resting lightly against your collarbone.

"I’d find a way to take you myself."

You had underestimated him.

And now, you were his.

[rhyrhy]

“'Cause we're way too involved, just to cut and not call”

Situationship! Abby Drabble

࣪𖤐.ᐟ Warnings: none, just two idiots pining, fluff, 2k words. IFY This was 110% Inspired by this — more Abby here —

The sound of Abby’s door clicking shut behind you was second nature by now. You’d met her after being transferred to the WLF base. thrown into a new routine, a new home, with new faces. Eyes feeling- no, knowing you are sizing you up. And hers, Abby, had been one of them. What started as a proper passing familiarity. working the same routes, seeing her in the gym, nodding at each other across crowded mess hall tables. had turned into nights spent in her room, pretending it was casual.

But the feelings had started to bleed through…

First, it was the small things. Redoing her braid after you’d messed it up by tugging on it all night. Jokingly calling her patrol dog, your “baby” when she curled up beside you, earning a sound of amusement from Abby. Then she’d started catching your wrist before you could slip away, her fingers firm but careful. The dim glow of a lantern casting shadows across her face as she’d murmur, “It’s late. You can head back in the morning, yeah?” Now, after weeks of being apart. separate assignments. However the pit in Abby’s stomach from your absence was impossible to ignore. Too obvious to be anything other than what it was. Or what was building.

Abby was sprawled her bed, one arm tucked behind her head, a small smile on her lips as you stepped inside.

“Hey, stranger. Starting to think you forgot about me.”

You sat beside her, the mattress dipping under your weight as her arm stretched along the back, her fingertips brushing your shoulder, resting on the fabric of your shirt. This was supposed to be easy. No strings attached. But as she laughed, her gaze lingering on yours, something soft and knowing in her expression, she realized you both were in trouble.

in deeper than either of you would admit.

“Forget about you? Please, never.” You joked, bumping her shoulder with yours. Truth was, you couldn’t even dream of forgetting about her.

Abby humed, tilting her head to the side. Her braid following her small movement. “You say that now, but you haven’t even bothered to check in for almost three weeks.” There was tease lilt to her tone, but a small part of her was beginning to wonder if maybe you’d decided she wasn’t worth the trouble after all. Trying to push that past relationship troubles take over.

“Really?” You furrowed your eyebrows, thinking back to how long it had actually been. It clicked She was…counting? Regardless she was right. yes, it had been awhile. “Oh… shit, I’m sorry, Abs. Got busy, I guess?” You rubbed your arm, glancing over at her. It was a weak statement but it’s all you could mutter out.

Abby rolled her eyes, nudging you with her knee. “Busy, huh? Couldn’t even leave a note or something?” She gave you a pointed look, pouting dramatically. “Im offended.” But as she took in your sheepish expression, her gaze softened. Her bottom lip out.

“Hey! Don’t do that. You’re a horrible communicator too, and you know it,” you chuckled, reaching out to tilt her face toward you with a finger under her chin. Scanning over the new scar on the side of her cheek.

Abby scoffed, still faking offense. “Oh, so now it’s my fault, huh?”

She smirked as your fingers gently lifted her chin, her eyes meeting yours. A familiar spark flickered between you, something that felt like it was always standing behind you. Looming.

You nodded jokingly, scanning her face again. “Mhm. I’m soo not taking accountability here.”

Abby rolled her eyes again, but there was a mischievous glint in them. She pouted again, though this time it was clearly more playful than serious. “Oh really? I see how it is.” She leaned into your touch, her voice much quieter than before. Fingers twitching to reach over and hold you more.

You chuckled, brushing a few loose strands of hair behind her ear before cupping her face. “Oh Yeah? You do?”

Abby’s teasing melted away the moment your hands settled on her skin. Your touch was too gentle, too easy, and it sent a shiver down her spine. She knew she should keep things light, keep up the playful air, but the way you were looking at her? Like she meant something? It was fucking terrifying. You always looked at her like that, always.

“Earth to Andersonnnn,” you teased, your thumb caressing over her cheek. Eyes on hers, like you were trying to read her thoughts.

Abby blinked, cheeks tinged with a rush of heat. She let out a small laugh, shaking her head. “Sorry, got lost in thought for a second.” Her eyes fluttered shut for a moment, savoring the feel of your touch. It felt too natural. Too safe.

“I see that,” you hummed, shifting along the couch until you settled onto her lap, resting on her thighs. “Whatcha thinking about, hm?”

Abby’s hands instinctively found your hips, her grip firm but careful. The warmth of you against her sent a flood of emotions rushing through her. Ones she’d been trying to ignore for weeks, months. Ever since you first kissed her if she being completely honest with herself. Your arms around her neck, the soft sigh you let out. it wouldn’t leave her, ever.

She exhaled, her fingers absentmindedly skimming the hem of your shirt. “Nothing. Just… stuff.”

“Stuff,” you repeated, unconvinced. You sighed, resting your face in the crook of her neck, inhaling the familiar scent of pine. “I’m sorry I didn’t stop by sooner. But I… I thought about you.” Your voice was quieter now. “I promise.”

Abby’s breath caught as you nuzzled closer, her fingers tracing lazy circles along your back. She closed her eyes, relishing in your warmth, in the steady rhythm of your heartbeat against her. Worried hers was loud enough for you to hear.

“I thought about you too,” she admitted, barely above a hush. More than she should have. More than she wanted to. But admitting that meant something, and she wasn’t sure she was ready to face what that was. It screamed at her, little did she know it was mutual annoyance. That nagging to just face what was happening, like taking the sun away from a blooming flower. Forcing the petals to stay shut. She swallowed hard, gripping your waist just a little tighter.

“No, Abs… like, really missed you.” You sighed, pressing a small kiss to her shoulder before leaning back to meet her eyes. “Like more… than I should.”

Abby’s heart thumped at your words. She averted her gaze, trying to shove down the overwhelming feeling creeping up her throat. But when she felt your lips against her skin, her resolve broke. She looked at you then. really looked at you. That look you’d always given her whether you knew you were doing it or not. Your face, so open, so…unguarded. A expression she hadn’t yet memorized.

“More than you should?” she echoed, voice barely above a whisper.

You sighed, tilting your head back to stare at the ceiling. A thousand words wanted to spill but the only one you let fall was..

“Yeah.”

A long silence stretched between you, those heavy with unspoken words.

The warm of her fingers traced slow invisible patterns along your waist, her thoughts a whirlwind of emotions she didn’t know how to name. Or if she should. She took a deep breath, exhaling shakily before finally admitting, “I… I’ve missed you too. More than I should.”

You glanced back down at her, a small sigh of relief escaping your lips. “Not just me then?” you murmured, resting your forehead against hers, feeling the warmth of her breath against your skin.“Good… I feel better about that.”

Abby closed her eyes, savoring the weight of you against her, the way your fingers danced along her arm like this was something much more. “No, not just you,” she murmured, her voice softer now. She opened her eyes, searching your face for something. reassurance, maybe. A sign that this wasn’t just in her head.

You chuckled, running a hand along her arm. “I mean, you are so cute. How could I not think about your stupid face?”

Abby let out a short laugh, swatting at your arm. The tension eased just slightly. “Oh, you’re one to talk, Miss ’Too Busy to Check In,’” she teased.

“Oh, shut up! Now I’ll find you every day just to spite you. How’s that?” You grinned, tilting her face up once more, Faces much closer than before.

Abby huffed, pretending to be put off, but her heart was hammering against her ribs. “You better. I’ll be waiting for it. Every single time. No pressure, though.” She smiled, raising an eyebrow at you as your hands cupped her face. “Oh? And what else? Gonna bring me flowers too?”

You scoffed, arching a brow back at her. “Oh? What kind of flowers would Miss Anderson want?”

She pretended to think about it, tapping her chin before grinning. “Lilies. The white ones.”

You let out a soft laugh. “Lilies? That’s real romantic, Abby.” you hummed. “But I like the idea. It’s a deal then. ilies for your time.”

Abby chuckled, playfully swatting your arm. “Oh, so now it’s a trade? Fine, You’ve got yourself a deal.” Her fingers idly traced the back of your neck as she softened, her gaze stamped on yours.

“Good. You don’t have a choice anyway.” You leaned in, voice dropping to a whisper. “Now, can I kiss you, or are we just gonna flirt until the sun comes up?”

Abby pretended to think about it, her fingers still playing with the hem of your shirt. “Hmm… such a hard choice.” She whispered back, but the hunger in her eyes betrayed her.

“I think I’ll go with option one. C’mere.”

[littelovelunette]

Hey!! How u doin? I hope u aren’t overwhelmed from all the req….

Can I request maybe a fwb! Sevika x reader and like they finally confess their feelings after all their “sessions”

Friends With Feelings

Hi, anon, I am a little overwhelmed, yeah, thanks for checking innn, how are you???

By the time Sevika was done with you, you were spread across her bed, panting and squirting.

The room smelled heavily of alcohol, tobacco and sex. Your whole body was covered in a thin layer of sweat, as was hers. Sevika had gone to the bathroom to wash the sex toys off as per the usual.

You laid there, staring up at the ceiling for a long, long while. It's been about four weeks you and Sevika have been sleeping together, but never really came down to the ‘friends with benefits’ conclusion.

You both just had sex whenever it was the mood, but weren't anything exclusive because you were aware she still went to the brothel...

Well, she used to during the first week and then she abruptly stopped with the lame excuse of "I'm too tired."

The door creaked open, revealing Sevika now dressed in a dark tanktop and grey shorts. Flexing and stretching her muscles out, she put the toys away in the bedside drawer.

The older woman, who'd probably take out a cigarette and just smoke, leaving you to take care of the mess she made out of you and your surroundings, she didn't do that.

Most of it, at least.

Although, she did have a cigarette tucked between those dark lips which always looked so kissable, she was helping you up and to the bathroom.

"Let me know if you need help." Sevika said as she helped you into the bathtub.

The water was warm in the bathtub, just as you liked it. You mentally smiled, knowing Sevika took a while in the bathroom, not just washing the sex toys, but preparing the bath for you.

"Thanks." You muttered under your breath but she was already out the door.

A while later, you were done cleaning yourself off and stepped out of the bathroom with shaky legs.

Sevika noticing your shaky legs, quickly rushed to your side and picked you up bridal style, "Where to?"

"Bed."

"Round two already?" Sevika asked in an amused tone and you couldn't help rolling your eyes. You were aware she was joking.

"Just wanna rest now, Sev."

Sevika nodded and put you in bed. You were slightly surprised because the woman had changed her sheets. Usually, she didn't bother to after having sex in those very sheets.

"Don't give me that look, I have basic hygiene." Sevika said defensively while she looked in her closet to give you something to wear.

The woman's libido was high. She was likely to get horny around you if you stayed by her naked.

"Uh-huh." You responded to her previous comment and gasped a little when Sevika threw a shirt on your head. Grumbling, you put it on anyway.

It fitted you loosely, the half sleeves came down to your elbows and the hem of the shirt came down to your mid-thighs.

With an exhale of the smoke in her lungs, Sevika climbed onto bed next to you. She wrapped her metallic arm around your frame bringing you close before you could react.

"This is nice." You mumbled. Her body was always warm. Like a natural human heater.

The room still had the smell it had before, but atleast you felt cleaner than you did a few moments before, handcuffed to the bedpost, screaming and moaning her name.

By now, you were sure the neighbours thought you both were dating or you were simply her favourite fling.

"Sevika." You called suddenly.

Sevika turned to face you, putting the cigarette out in the ashtray on the bedside table so she could focus on you.

"I was wondering, what are we?" You asked as you slowly shifted so you were straddling her lap. You were bare underneath the shirt. Your pussy pressed against her muscular thighs.

"You're a slut, first of all." Sevika said, her breath hitching as she felt your warm folds on her thighs. "And I've been wondering the same."

"Are we friends with benefits?" You asked, hand on Sevika's shoulders.

"I hate to know the meaning of that term." Sevika grumbled but didn't answer.

"C'mon, be honest with me." Your hands trailed down her arms— two very different arms.

"I am!" Sevika said indignatly, stubbornness showing with each letter.

"Do you like me?"

There was silence in the room for a while, and a very awkward staring contest established between you and the other woman.

With a little bit of bravery, you pulled her hand up and let them rest on your hips, awaiting her answer.

"The last time someone asked me that, I unsheathed the machete."

You gave her a look and Sevika huffed a sigh before adding, "I mean, you've got a pretty face, nice body, you don't annoy me to death... Ten percent of the time we spend together. I guess— I mean, yeah."

This was the first time you saw Sevika loose her cool and compose form, her usual responses were short and diligent but for once this time she was flustered and didnt know what to say.

Sevika's hands on you hips tightened and she felt like she embarrassed herself. So instead of words, she just pulled you closer and kissed you deeply.

And no words would ever be worth enough to express how much love she put into that kiss.

[00valentina-writes00]

hey! i OBSESSED with your angst and i was wondering if you could wright sevika and ambessa with the prompt of using a weakness/very sensitive topic against you in a argument

♡♥︎ Words Like Knives ♥︎♡

Im back from hiatus!

Warnings: Argument, emotional hurt, harsh words, manipulation, tension, emotional conflict, angst, brief mention of sensitive topics

♡ Sevika ♡

You knew better than to argue with Sevika.

She wasn’t the type of person to back down, not even for a second, and you’d learned that the hard way. But this time? This time was different. The tension between you two had been building for weeks—snide remarks, sharp glares, and biting silence in place of the warmth you once shared. But today, you were both on the verge. Your patience was thin, and her anger was bubbling just beneath the surface, waiting for the smallest trigger to erupt.

It came out of nowhere.

“Why don’t you just admit it?” Sevika spat, her dark eyes narrowing as she leaned in close, her breath warm against your face. “You’re always gonna be a disappointment, aren’t you?”

Her words felt like a punch to the gut, and it took everything in you not to flinch. Your hands curled into fists at your sides, nails digging into your palms. You could feel the heat rising in your chest, the pressure building behind your ribs as she stared you down.

“Sevika, don’t start—” you began, but she wasn’t done.

“No,” she interrupted, her voice low and venomous. “I’ve had enough of your damn excuses. You’re so fucking fragile. You can’t even keep it together when things get tough. All you do is run away.”

Her words stung like hot coals, burning into your skin. You could feel the familiar panic rising within you, that tightness in your throat that came with being cornered. Your heart hammered in your chest, the air growing thick as her harsh words continued to cut through you.

“You think I don’t know?” Sevika sneered. “You’ve always been this way. Weak, pathetic—too scared to face anything head-on. But hey, at least you’re good at hiding behind that fucking smile, right?”

Her words scraped across your soul, leaving deep, jagged marks in their wake. You wanted to say something, to defend yourself, but the words felt heavy, trapped somewhere deep inside your chest. How could you explain to her that you weren’t running away? How could you make her understand the fear that gripped you?

But Sevika wasn’t done.

She stepped closer, towering over you, her presence overwhelming. You could feel her anger vibrating in the air, sharp and suffocating.

“You’re just like everyone else. Too fucking scared to stand your ground. No wonder you’ve always been so easy to manipulate. You can’t even stand up for yourself, let alone anyone else.”

The words hit you like a physical blow, and your breath hitched. The way she made it sound—it was like you didn’t have the right to be who you were. It was like every weakness you had, every failure, was just another reason for her to belittle you.

You opened your mouth, desperate to explain, but nothing came out. Your throat was tight, your chest burning with the ache of the argument that had just gone from bad to worse. You tried to hold yourself together, but it was getting harder by the second.

“I thought you were different,” Sevika muttered, her voice suddenly quieter, colder. “But you’re not. You’re just like everyone else. Too afraid to step up, too afraid to face the truth. You’re a fucking coward, and you’ll always be one.”

Her last words hit harder than anything else, the weight of them dragging you down. Coward.

The word echoed in your mind, a constant, nagging reminder of all the times you’d failed. All the moments you’d hidden from the things that scared you. And now Sevika was using it against you, weaponizing your deepest insecurities like they were nothing.

You tried to speak, but your voice came out shaky, barely a whisper. “Sevika, please…”

She didn’t care.

“Please?” Sevika mocked, stepping even closer, the heat of her anger radiating off her in waves. “What’s the matter, huh? You’re too scared to even fight back? Too scared to stand up for yourself like you’ve always been?”

You could feel the tears threatening to spill, and you hated it. You hated that she’d reduced you to this—hated that she could cut you down so easily. But the truth was, she wasn’t wrong.

It wasn’t just the argument that was breaking you. It was the truth in her words. The part of you that had never been able to fully overcome your own fears. The part of you that was still a child, running from every obstacle that came your way.

“You’re right,” you whispered, the words tasting bitter as they left your mouth. “I’m scared. I’m scared of failing. I’m scared of being… nothing.”

Sevika’s expression faltered, her jaw tightening as if she’d said too much. But she didn’t apologize. No, Sevika wasn’t the type to apologize. She simply crossed her arms over her chest and sneered.

“You’re damn right you’re scared. And you’ll keep being scared until you grow a fucking spine and stop running away from your own goddamn problems.”

Her words landed like another strike, but you didn’t respond this time. You couldn’t. There was nothing left to say. She had used your insecurities as a weapon, and all you were left with was the hollow sting of her words.

Sevika stared at you for a long moment, her gaze cold, calculating. Then, with a quick exhale, she turned on her heel, walking away without another word.

But you didn’t move.

You stood there, rooted to the spot, feeling like the walls were closing in around you. Your heart ached with the weight of everything she’d said, everything she’d done. You felt small, insignificant, and completely unworthy of any affection, any care. How could you ever expect someone to love you when you were this broken?

You heard Sevika’s footsteps fade into the distance, but you didn’t go after her. Not this time. You couldn’t. Not when the pain from her words was so raw, so fresh.

A part of you wanted to chase after her, to beg her to take it back, but another part of you knew that you were too afraid. Too afraid of facing the consequences of your own weakness.

It wasn’t the first time you’d been broken by someone you loved. But it was the first time you felt like you might not recover.

You sank to your knees, your chest tight, suffocating. The tears you’d been holding back finally spilled over, but there was no comfort. No one to wipe them away. Sevika had said what she needed to say, and now she was gone.

And all you were left with was the ache in your heart, the sting of her words that would haunt you long after she was out of sight.

And for the first time, you wondered if maybe she was right. If you were just a coward who would never be able to face the truth of who you really were.

♡ Ambessa ♡

The silence in the room was suffocating. You could feel the weight of Ambessa’s gaze on you as she stood by the large window of her lavish office, her posture unyielding and regal. You had tried, truly tried, to keep your temper in check, but the tension had been building for days, and now it was boiling over. She had a way of pushing your buttons, of prodding at the things you’d rather leave buried—and tonight was no different.

“I don’t understand why you’re making this so difficult.” Ambessa’s voice was low, but the venom was unmistakable. She didn’t need to raise her voice to make you feel like you were in the wrong. The way she spoke was a weapon in itself—calm, calculated, yet laced with disdain.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves, but the words were already slipping out before you could stop them. “I’m not the one making this difficult, Ambessa. You are.”

Ambessa turned slowly, her sharp, piercing gaze locking onto yours. A single eyebrow quirked in amusement, though there was no humor in it. “Is that so? You think you’re the one in control of this situation?”

You clenched your fists at your sides, feeling the familiar pressure in your chest, the suffocating feeling that always came when you were caught in one of her arguments. She always knew how to twist things, how to make you feel like you were in the wrong, even when you knew you weren’t. But this time, you couldn’t let her win.

“I didn’t ask for this,” you bit out, voice trembling with the raw emotion that had been building. “I didn’t ask for your manipulation or your constant need to make everything about your damn power plays.”

Ambessa’s expression hardened, her lips curling into a thin line. “Manipulation? Is that what you think this is?” She stalked toward you, her heels clicking sharply against the polished floor, each step deliberate, calculated. “You think I manipulate you?”

“I know you do,” you shot back, your heart pounding in your chest. “I’m not blind, Ambessa. I see through your games. You make me feel like I’m the one who’s always wrong, like I’m the one who’s always at fault.”

Ambessa’s eyes flashed with something darker, something colder. Her demeanor shifted, and for a split second, you regretted pushing her so far. But there was no going back now.

“Is that how you see it?” Her voice was a whisper, but it held an edge. “You’re upset because I hold you accountable? Is that it?”

“No.” You shook your head, refusing to back down. “I’m upset because I’ve been giving you everything, and you’re treating me like nothing.”

The words stung even as they left your mouth, and you saw the brief flicker of emotion in Ambessa’s eyes. But it was gone just as quickly as it appeared. She stepped forward, her presence overwhelming, towering over you in a way that felt suffocating.

“You think you’re the only one giving anything?” Her tone was sharp, laced with something dangerous. “I’ve sacrificed more for this than you’ll ever understand.”

You could feel the frustration building in your chest, the pressure of her words pressing down on you. “You’ve never once considered how I feel, Ambessa. Never.”

Ambessa’s face twisted into something cruel, a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “How you feel?” She stepped closer, her breath warm against your skin. “Oh, I’m sure I’ve considered it. After all, it’s not as if I haven’t been made painfully aware of your… shortcomings.”

The way she said it, the deliberate slowness with which she let the words hang in the air—it felt like a blow to your chest. You had always known that Ambessa had a way of finding your vulnerabilities, but you never thought she would use them against you so… so effortlessly.

“You think you’re the only one who’s had to deal with loss?” Ambessa’s voice dropped into a dangerous whisper. “I’ve lost everything, everything that mattered, just to build this empire. And yet here you are, crying over your little—” She stopped herself, eyes narrowing. “Well, let’s not pretend we don’t both know how fragile you are.”

Her words cut deep. You felt them slice through you, carving open wounds you thought were closed. The pain of it—the way she reduced your struggles, your trauma, to something insignificant—it made your breath catch in your throat.

“Don’t you dare.” Your voice came out barely above a whisper, the trembling anger making it hard to form the words. “Don’t you dare use that against me.”

Ambessa took a step closer, her gaze never leaving yours. “What? Are you ashamed of it? Ashamed of the fact that you’re weak?” Her eyes flickered with something almost predatory, as if she could smell your fear, the rawness of the old wounds you hadn’t fully healed from.

The room felt like it was closing in on you, the heat of her presence suffocating. Your hands were shaking at your sides, and you couldn’t stop the ache that bloomed in your chest. “I’m not weak,” you whispered, though even you could hear the doubt in your voice. “I’m not weak, and I’m not ashamed of what I’ve been through.”

But Ambessa wasn’t listening anymore. She was too caught up in her own words, in her own need to break you down. “You always were the fragile one,” she said coldly. “Just like I knew. You never had the stomach to do what needed to be done. Never strong enough to face your demons.”

Each word she spoke landed like a punch, relentless and sharp. The guilt you had buried deep inside yourself, the feeling that you were never enough, never strong enough to live up to what was expected of you—it all bubbled to the surface. You had never fully dealt with the pain, the trauma, and now it felt like Ambessa was ripping it all open again, with no care for how much it hurt.

Tears stung at your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. Not in front of her. You had fought too hard to get to this point, to let her see how much she had gotten under your skin. You clenched your jaw, but the pain was unbearable, the weight of her words suffocating.

“You don’t know anything about me,” you said, your voice barely more than a whisper, but there was strength in it. “You don’t get to decide what I’m worth. You don’t get to make me feel small because you’re too afraid to face your own weaknesses.”

Ambessa’s face twisted, her lips curling into something that was far from a smile. “You think I’m afraid?” she said, her voice dripping with disdain. “You think I’m afraid of you? Of anything?”

You met her gaze, the fire in your eyes matching the heat of the anger that swirled in your chest. “No. But I think you’re afraid of facing the truth.” You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. “You use me, you manipulate me, because you’re too scared to face who you really are. And I’m done being your pawn.”

For a moment, Ambessa didn’t speak. The silence between you felt thick, heavy with unspoken words. You could see the anger in her eyes, but you also saw something else—a flicker of something deeper, something more human beneath her hard exterior.

But it was gone just as quickly as it came, replaced by the cold mask she always wore.

“You’ve crossed a line,” Ambessa said, her voice low and dangerous. “But I’ll give you one last chance. Leave, and forget everything I said. Stay, and I’ll make sure you regret it.”

The room felt like it was collapsing in on itself, and you could feel your heart racing in your chest. But despite the weight of her words, despite the ache in your chest, you stood tall.

“I’m not afraid of you, Ambessa.”

And with that, you turned, walking away.

[rin-may-1103]

Badger Day Au (part three)

Previous | Master Post | Next

“Soooo-” Flash started, fidgeting as Danny continued to stare off at the crumbled stone wall. He wondered if he could find that ring again, it had been buried about what, five feet down? Was it under the really pale stone or the one that looked like a witch hat?

“What exactly do you need me to do here?” he winced, shuffling from foot to foot.

Danny leaned back just enough to watch as Zatanna jumped over the other stone wall, “hey, Z!” he shouted, making the women freeze and turn to look at him.

“Watch your step, there’s an unstable magic bomb to your left.”

She blinked, then glanced to the ground with narrowed eyes when she spotted the magic rune. “Thanks,” she huffed, glaring at the offensive rune.

Danny doubted he’d ever get the memory of discovering it out of his mind; the crunch of leaves, the cut-off startled gasp as Zatanna barely noticed what she stepped on, superman turning too slow as the world erupted into flames. That had been a horrible loop, one he never wanted to repeat. Though it’s not the worst thing he’s witnessed by now, it had been early on and very traumatizing.

Danny turned back to Flash, studying the man’s disturbed face. Yep, just like the last 700 times Danny’s dragged him here. “Your job,” Danny started, turning so he could study the stone wall again, “is to use your detective skills and help z investigate the area. She’ll find the magic signature, while you look for missing evidence.”

“Oh,” Flash blinked, turning back to study Danny. “Then what are you going to do?”

Danny shrugged, floating his way over to the wall and reaching through the dirt. Aw, yep, there it was. Pulling his hand free, Danny showed Flash what he had found, “I’m going to look around for more suspiciously buried jewelry.”

He hadn’t dug around in the ground in the other place where the ritual had been held yet, so he wasn’t sure if the ring was significant or not, but he had a feeling he’d find out anyway. It’s not like anything else he’d investigated lately had given them new answers, might as well look into it. 

Speaking of answers, Zatanna should find the magic signature- right…. About….now.

“Oh, that’s just wrong,” she huffed, pinching her nose like she had just walked into a sewage plant. Flash blinked, turning away from the bush he’d been ogling, and spotted something behind Zatanna.

Danny leaned back, watching as Flash discovered the first clue to what happened here. (Danny already knew everything that was going to happen, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t important for the others to discover these things for themselves.)

“Oh, that’s not great,” Flash winced, zipping over to the bone sticking out of the dirt. Scattered underneath was a ceramic bowl full of dried blood, melted candles, and a ripped-up page covered in scribbles.

“Collect the paper,” Danny sighed, glancing down at the ring in his hand. It was silver and had dirt stuck in all the small crevices. Rubbing his thumb over the stone revealed a brilliant red shine. Hmm, he’d have to ask Sam what kind of stone it was, she’d know just by looking at it.

“I was going to?” Flash hesitated, pulling out a small evidence bag.

Danny pointed to the other side of the clearing where just barely noticeable was another pile of ripped-up paper. This one was the same scribbled mess as the one at flashes Feet, but it had a code on the left side once it was pieced back together. 

“A gift for the Bat. Ancients know how much he loves puzzles.” Danny grumbled, lifting the ring up to the sky, watching as the sun reflected off the silver. Something tugged at the back of his mind, demanding his attention. Glaring, Danny studied the clearing around him.

Flash was crouched down, collecting the paper. Zatanna was walking around with her hands glowing, reading the magic signatures saturating the ground. If Constantine was here, he’d be complaining about just how much magic was covering the place. Something about how migraine-inducing it was. The world was full of magic, but it was very unnatural for so much of it to be in one place. It was a sign that someone was doing something they weren’t supposed to. Which they already knew because well, you’re not supposed to summon the ghost king to the mortal world. It's just wrong.

Wait a fucking moment.

Glancing down with narrowed eyes, Danny studied the ring again. Silver with a red stone, two things that were known to be large magic conductors, yet the ring was completely devoid of it. That’s not right, this thing should be overflowing with the mafic backlash of the ritual, yet it's not.

What the heck???

“Hey, Zatanna?” Danny huffed, glaring at the ring. “Mind looking at this for me?”

“Sure,” Zatanna sighed, rubbing her face and making her way over. Holding out his hand, Danny watched as Zatanna examined it, froze, then examined it again. “What the fuck?” she whispered, reaching out and taking it from him.

“That’s just weird,” she huffed, twisting the ring around and studying how her magic flickered and bounced off it, not getting absorbed at all. 

“I don’t know why it’s doing that, but it’s not supposed to,” she grumbled, holding the ring back out for Danny to take. Grabbing it, Danny looked to see if anything was different. It wasn’t.

“Let’s have John look at it later, it might be important.” she offered, glancing around the clearing with narrowed eyes, “Either way, I’ve got the signature we need. Now we just need to follow it.”

“Right,” Danny sighed, turning to watch as Flash stumbled over a root. “Let’s go!” he shouted, drawing the man’s attention.

“Ok!” he shouted back.

Danny glanced back down at the ring in his hand, the red stone glowing in the sun. Maybe he should have looked into this sooner instead of just assuming it wasn’t important. Maybe then he would have already figured out why he was trapped.

Oh well, it wasn’t like he’d wasted anyone else’s time, just his.

[mossangelll]

Out of all the arcane sugar daddies/mommies: who do you think are most likely to fall/want a relationship with their sugar baby🤔

OH MY GOD THANK YOU FOR ASKING THIS!!! honestly thinking of starting a series based on this concept - it’s so fun ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

based on this work!

cw: mentions of sex

Caitlyn

Cait is very repressed when it comes to relationships. I mentioned in a previous work that her childhood was probably a bit devoid of affection in the sense that she wasn’t treated so much as a child but as a future heir who had to be perfect which definitely contributes to this complex. This isn’t to say her parents didn’t love her, they definitely did, but they did instil these impossible expectations that leached over into her love life and the expectations she has for herself and her future partner. I mean, the whole reason she went on a sugar baby site was because she dedicates her whole life to work and pushes aside love. This isn’t because she doesn’t want it, quite the opposite - she wants it badly but knows that whoever she chooses has to live up to her family’s expectations and come to terms that for Cait, the Kiramman house will always come first.

This is why Cait opts for a “no strings attached” arrangement because in her mind, this is the best outcome she can hope for. Someone to keep the loneliness at bay while she focuses on what’s important. That is until she meets you and gets to truly know you as a person; it goes from a simple dinner date to her buying you a penthouse - she’s down bad.

Her friends warn her that you’re just a gold digger, that this isn’t a long-term arrangement and that she deserves someone of a higher standing. She couldn’t care less. You truly get her, not the version of her who is the genius heir to an important family, but the version of her who wants to chase her own dreams and simply slow down. Being with you doesn’t feel like a societal obligation or an

She would agonise over how to tell you that she wants more from you, from the both of you. Cait is definitely the kind of person who gets unbelievably sappy after sex and so she can’t help but whisper out those three important words when she thinks you’re asleep. Except you’re not. When she realises, she freaks out and ditches your place 😭 She basically goes into hiding for a week as she works out what exactly the next step is and how she should approach the situation.

You’re hurt that she would leave you, especially since you were just about to say “I love you” back so with the help of your friends you refuse to contact her first, and she’s hurt since you haven’t contacted her and it makes her wonder if maybe her friends were right and you didn’t really care about her. Two idiots in love. Eventually, Cait comes to her senses and visits your penthouse with a a bouquet of those flowers that last a whole year without wilting. A show of her immense love for you.

Needless to say you’re beyond happy that you’ve finally reunited and from that moment on you two are official, society and familial expectations be damned.

Jayce

Oh Jayce.

Another one who is inexperienced when it comes to love and serious, committed relationships. Again, he focused a lot of time on his research and didn’t have the time for anything more than short flings and hookups.

At first he genuinely isn’t looking for anything serious with you, he has work and friends to keep him occupied enough. It would take a while before he starts to view you in a more romantic, genuine way since building a deep bond is very important to him. But when he does realise? He doesn’t want to let you go.

You two had agreed that you weren’t exclusive, but after many months of seeing each other, he had stopped going on dates with others and had to suffer in excruciating silence when you talked to him about someone you had a nice time with last night. It was his fault for asking, but can you blame him - he needs to scope out the competition! Because of this he ends up coming across a bit petulant, starting petty arguments with you as if you were cheating even though it was clearly agreed there were no strings attached.

You can only tolerate so much of this behaviour though. After all, you have an obligation to go on dates with him when he pays, but it’s hard to enjoy your time when he’s practically interrogating you on your date last night. So, you put an end to this as soon as possible, you do like Jayce a lot and can’t stomach being in this weird, uncomfortable limbo with him. It’s nerve wracking for sure, asking out a chancellor, but you wouldn’t trade it for the world when you see the way his eyes light up and his jaw drops, revealing his ever-so-slightly gapped teeth. Being able to reduce such a big man to a puddle of shock is quite exciting.

From then on, he uses every excuse and chance he has to slip in the fact you’re his girlfriend into the most unrelated conversations. He’s ridiculous 😭

It’s a bit awkward because as a chancellor, people talk and talk they did when they caught onto the fact that you were his sugar baby. But you’re his now and he does not tolerate people speaking ill of you or what you used to do in the past. None of that matters, especially not now that you’ve confessed your love for each other!

The moment you come to him with tears in your eyes over nasty comments (sure, you’ve built a thick skin over the years but nothing compares to the cattiness of rich aristocrats) he is finding that person and having words. Or, if he wants to create a more lasting impact, he uses his connections to bad talk the person and limit the job opportunities they get with members of the council.

Despite taking a little longer to realise his feelings compared to the other two, he would be the quickest out of them all to propose. Now that he knows that you’re the love of his life, more important than even his hextech, he doesn’t want to wait any longer to solidify your relationship and show the world the scope of your love <3

Vander

Vander is older than you which complicates your relationship from the get-go; no matter how much he yearns for for something more than this arrangement, it feels wholly inappropriate. Just the thought of meeting your parents, people closer in age to him than he is to you, makes him wince.

Still, it doesn’t stop him from acting more like your boyfriend more than just some guy who spoils you in return for your time. He picks you and your friends up from the club, gives you back rubs when you complain about a long day of work, even gossips with you about random celebrities he knows nothing about. He is sooooo whipped he practically has heart eyes whenever he so much as thinks about you. He admires everything about you and sometimes the doubt weighs down on him - you’re perfect in his eyes and it makes him believe that if he wasn’t essentially paying you to be with him, you wouldn’t have looked twice at him.

In this situation, he is so hopeless you would have to be the one to reach out to him and ask for a serious relationship. He would be taken aback, sure he knows he’s attractive but wouldn’t you want someone your own age? Someone you wouldn’t feel ashamed being with openly? Once he gets over all his fears and doubts this guy goes all out - he’s in love! Every time you guys get intimate, he can’t help but call it “making love” since now it’s something special that truly means a lot to you both.

Expect to be spoiled™️ when it’s time for holidays such as valentines and christmas. He doesn’t even expect anything from you, your presence is a gift enough for him, but if you do get him something (especially a well-thought out gift that shows how much you care) this man is bear hugging you with tears in his eyes. He is beyond ecstatic that he found his special someone, even if it happened in a very unorthodox way :’)

special mentions: jinx, viktor

masterlist

[gallifreyan85]

Cup Runneth Over

pairing: mentor!Agatha x reader

summary: during your lessons, agatha likes to push. one day, she goes a bit too far.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆

Agatha’s basement was chilly. Even in the summer the walls and floors stayed cold, and it was the slow beginning of winter now. You sometimes wondered if that was because stone needed time to absorb heat or because of some magical barrier that separated the room from the rest of the world. Your attention was pulled away to what was in front of you by Agatha’s displeased voice, snapping you back to reality.

“I said concentrate.” she said, her expression a mix of frowning frustration.

She was standing in front of you, expectant, looking more annoyed by the minute, and the two of you had been down there for at least an hour and a half.

“Go again.” she said, so you rose your hands and tried, really, you did-- but the magic just wasn’t listening. It crackled, you felt it shoot through you, briefly, and then poof- nothing. Agatha sighed. Her hands dropped to her sides as she circled you, and you could see she was growing impatient. You didn’t like disappointing her, but today things just weren’t going your way. No matter how much you tried.

“Okay, this clearly isn’t working.” she muttered, stopping abruptly in front of you, “What are you doing, hm? Where’s your mind at? You’re supposed to be concentrating—”

“I am—” you tried, but she just laughed.

“Oh, you are? If this is what you call concentration then I don’t want to know what it looks like when you’re distracted. Go again.”

“Agatha-”

“Again. Now.”

You shifted your feet, rose your hands, let them linger above the old tome in front of you, a single writing quill on top of the darkened covers. And it did not budge. You held your breath, tried again, focused on it--

Nothing. Not an inch of movement.

Agatha chuckled from beside you. It wasn’t happy, a sort of mocking, desperate, I-should-be-giving-up-on-you chuckle. It made your insides hurt a little. You kept your hands in front of you, still trying, trying--

Still nothing.

“If you can’t even move a single feather how do you think you’re going to break a real binding spell, hm?”

You sighed. But when you lowered your hands, Agatha tsked. You looked up.

“What?”

“What do you think you’re doing? We’re not done here. Let’s go, come on. Again.”

You almost groaned.

You were tired. Cold. Standing here for almost two hours, not feeling the tips of your fingers, trying to make a dammed feather move from being bound to a damn book. And she was right.

Of course she was. If you couldn’t do this then how on earth would you ever break yourself out of a spell if someone tried to bind you?

“I can’t do this.” you said finally, “I need a break.”

Agatha looked at you, her blue eyes narrowed. “A break?” she echoed, her voice raising an octave, “Oh, you want a break? You think your captors will give you one, hmm? You think they’ll be all nice to you and say ohh, pumpkin, here’s something warm for you to drink—” you felt a twinge of hurt at the nickname used mockingly, “here, rest for a moment, get some sleep then try again. No—”

You tried to interject but she went on, now talking heatedly.

“You won’t get a break if you’re in trouble, pet. You’ll only get more tired, more hurt, and the more you wait-- the more your chances of survival go down. Now suck it up and get back to it.”

You stared at her, unmoving for a moment.

She glanced away, back around the room, and added, lowly,

“And be grateful that I’m letting you practice on something as easy as this. A true lesson would be binding your hands together and watching you try to break yourself free.”

“This isn’t easy—”

“It’s not supposed to be easy! You think you can learn anything from me giving you pretty spells to practice on? No. You gotta do the real work.”

“But you just said it was—”

“Don’t talk back to me. Try again.”

“No—”

“Again. Now, pet. Don’t make me repeat myself.”

You huffed, now feeling just as frustrated as she looked, and slowly rose your hands again. Your fingers trembled slightly, your breathing shallow. You concentrated. Tried. Thought. The magic was there, thrumming through your blood, you felt it move down your arms, through your wrists, your fingers, and then--

It stopped.

You closed your eyes. Lowered your hands. You could already hear Agatha talking to you in the background, briskly asking what you thought you were doing, that this was supposed to be a quick lesson, not two hours wasted of her time, of your time, and you tried to block out her voice, the reprimands, the constant flow of words that made you feel even worse but they just kept coming--

“Two hours—”

And coming.

“--the simplest spell, and you can’t even—”

And coming.

“Hopeless--”

“Stop,” you tried, your voice coming out quiet.

You weren’t even sure she’d heard you. She just kept talking at you, again and again, and--

“Agatha, just stop it—I need a moment--”

“You need to toughen up, dear. You think the world is gonna wait for you? Give you a moment to collect yourself? Well think again—”

“No, I just—”

“Honestly, sometimes I wonder why I’m even doing this.”

And that was the bit broke you. Pushed you over the edge you'd been teetering on for the past half hour.

You stopped, let your hands fall back down, head bowed in defeat as you felt the first of your tears gather in your eyes. You’d been holding them back, not wanting to cry out of frustration, not wanting to give up, but it seemed you couldn’t anymore.

“Fine.” you made out, not liking the way your voice did an odd sort of wobble,

“T-then don’t. Find someone else to mentor. You’re r-right. I’m hopeless.”

And you sat down, crumpled into the nearest chair, let your face fall into your hands, and cried.

Agatha stared.

For almost a minute there was silence, apart from the sound of your hitched breaths, uneven breathing and muffled sobs. You wondered, in the back of your mind, if you had this coming. You hadn’t been doing as well as you usually did in the past few weeks. Maybe it was the stress, or the outside cold, or the onslaught of foreign words and symbols and objects and spells that the two of you had stared to cover, but it had finally gotten to you. Half of you was expecting her to straight up leave when you started crying-- you could already hear her practiced grumbling in your head as she made her way upstairs, but surprisingly, that didn’t happen.

If you’d been looking up you would have seen the barrage of emotions that crossed her face when you first sat down, the confusion, the reluctance, the surprise. She sighed softly, letting her shoulders slump. Most of her anger dissipated at the first sign of your tears, and she was starting to feel bad.

Her. Feeling guilty.

She didn’t like that.

She hated that.

But somehow, begrudgingly, she hated the image of seeing you so sad, crying into your hands, more. She frowned.

“Stop crying.”

You of course, did not.

She groaned internally. “You can’t get all weepy every time someone raises their voice at you.”

Nothing. Just more quiet sniffles from you and the occasional whimper.

She didn’t know how to approach. She wasn’t good at this, the comforting, the coddling. But she didn’t want to be like her mother--Her hand gingerly settled onto your shoulder.

She sighed.

Long.

Like this was painful for her.

“Pet…”

You didn’t look up. Didn’t show any indication that you’d even heard her, so she tried again, a little softer this time.

“Sweetheart, don’t cry. I didn’t—” she paused. Cursed herself for a moment. “I didn’t mean that. You… you aren’t hopeless.”

You gave a sort of strangled sob in response.

Sighing, she kneeled down in front of you—kneeled, and gently tilted your head up, pulling your hands away from your face. Her heart twisted at the sight of your tear-streaked face, your watery eyes.

“Oh, hun…” she whispered. “Look at me. You aren’t hopeless. You think I’d let you stick around if you were? Waste my time on you if I thought you couldn’t do it?”

“M’ stupid.” the words left you before you could stop them. Something in her burned.

Agatha’s eyes darkened, her tone serious.

“No. Don’t let me hear you say that again. Ever. You are not stupid.”

You sniffled. “But I keep doing it wrong.”

Agatha stayed quiet.

Gods help her, she really wasn’t good at this. What does one say to a crying student? But you weren’t just that. Of course not.

“Listen, hun…. You’re… You just need some more practice, okay?”

You gave a reluctant nod.

“And I wasn’t trying to make you cry, darling, I just want- I need you to know that in the real world, it’s not like this. When someone attacks you they don’t give you time to breathe. You need to keep that in mind.”

Another sniffle. “I k-know. I just don’t think I can… not right now. I’m sorry.” you mumbled tentatively. Agatha studied you for a moment. She looked into your eyes, trying to think of a way to make you feel better without completely ruining her reputation. You somehow always managed to make her say or do something ridiculously soft.

She sighed. Softer this time. Not in anger, but resignation.

“Come on.” she said, aiming to get up.

She offered you her hand, and you stared at it, unsure.

“I’m trying to be nice here, pet. Don’t make me use magic to get you upstairs.”

“You’re not…mad at me?”

She chuckled, a half scoff.

“Mad? I’m frustrated maybe, that you keep forcing me act all-- feely-- but no, I’m not mad.”

And before she could stand up you took her hand.

But you didn’t get up.

You slid off the chair and onto the floor with her, pressing you face into her shoulder and holding on tight. She stilled.

“Great. And now you’re—” her voice was gruff but she didn’t push you away. “I don’t do hugs.”

You clung on tighter.

“I’m sorry I didn’t do it right.” You mumbled.

Her hand, previously above you, hovering uncertainly, settled onto the small of your back. And in contrast to her words her touch was soft. Gentle. Like a mother’s warm embrace. You melted into it. Closed your eyes. Let yourself relax.

She let herself slowly rub your back. “You know, pet…” she started softly, “Magic doesn’t just require power.”

You listened, feeling your tears slow, your soft sobs turning into quiet sniffles.

“Real magic, one that works the way you want it to, it requires knowledge. Training. Understanding what you’re doing. And you… you have potential.”

You stilled at that. She thought that? That you--

“I do?” you murmured, and she angled her head down a little, a knowing smirk ghosting across her features.

“Oh, you think I just let anyone into my home, and teach them magic, hm?”

“I-- well no, but-”

“But nothing, darling. You have potential. I can feel it in you. It’s strong, powerful, simmering beneath the surface. What you need to do is learn to channel it. You have to be the one controlling it, not the other way round.”

You sniffled. Wiped your eyes. She glanced away, still holding you close, and murmured,

“You know, it took me years to figure out teleportation.”

You frowned a little. Looked up.

“Really?”

She laughed, a quiet, soft laugh, a hint of something resembling self-deprecation there.

“I know what you’re thinking, but yes. Even someone as amazing as me can struggle with magic. It’s not easy. If you’re doing it right it probably isn’t.”

“So how did you do it?”

“A lot of failed attempts and knocking into things. It wasn’t a fun time.”

You felt a smile tugging at your lips. She gently flicked your head, a scoff ready on her lips.

“Don’t laugh at me, pet. And if you tell anyone—”

“I know. I know. You’ll do something I won’t like.”

“Exactly.” she said back, but her voice held a hint of warmth that hadn’t been present before.

She adjusted her arms a little better around you, and you ducked your head.

“We’ll take a break, since it seems you need one.” she said, “But just ten minutes, you hear me? And then we’re going back at it again.”

Your heart sank a little. You didn’t want her to yell at you again.

“Agatha?”

“Yes?”

“Can you… be a bit nicer this time?”

She smirked. “What, this isn’t nice enough for you? Do you know what I’d be doing if you were someone else, pet? This would not be happening and they’d be looking for a new teacher.”

You looked down, but she tilted your head back up towards her, warm fingers gently touching your cheek.

“But not me.” you murmured.

You needed to hear it. Some reassurance, a rare thing from her, but still…

“No.” she said softly. “Not you. You’re… different.”

“Special?” you smiled faintly, hopeful.

“I wouldn’t go that far, but yes. Maybe. Just don’t think you can get used to this.” she said, “Got it?”

“Got it.”

She shot you a brief smile. “Good. Now about those pathetic attempts you called trying, that’s not the right way to cast a spell. It’s not the right way to cast anything.”

“Can you show me one more time?”

You were hesitant, but to your surprise she nodded quickly, and extended her hand.

“Give me your hand, dear.”

You did.

She took it lightly, guiding your movements gently, positioning your fingers in the right way.

“There. And now…” she leaned down to whisper in your ear, softly, quietly. “Focus. Feel it. Don’t think about your hands, think about the outcome. See it in your mind--”

Her hand, still on yours, guided your movements gently.

The feather moved the slightest bit.

You gasped in genuine excitement. Agatha rolled her eyes.

“Don’t get all giggly on me now, pet. Keep at it. C’mon.”

You focused. Pictured it floating away from the book covers, unbound, gliding through the air at your command. Maybe it was Agatha’s hand top of your own, or your thoughts going too fast, but--

It wasn’t as graceful as you’d imagined. It just flopped, rather violently to one side, and the tip of the quill dug itself into the wood of the table, pointing upwards like a tiny knife-- stuck.

Agatha tilted her head in consideration.

“Not very sophisticated,” she drawled, her hand leaving yours, “but it’s something.”

You exhaled, relieved, feeling a bit more hopeful now.

“Can we take that break now?” you smiled sheepishly.

Agatha rolled her eyes, but she was already on her feet, coat swishing and halfway to the stairs.

“Come, pet.” she said, disappearing out of view into the living room.

You followed. Hurried after her. Settled in the kitchen, and made yourself a cup of tea. She didn’t tell you anything else, nothing sweet or kind or hardly reassuring as her words could be, but you caught her watching you from the corner of her eye as she studied some book in the living room. So what if those supposed ten minutes turned into twenty, and you came back down with another mug of hot tea, and a plate of cookies?

She watched you in silence, that schooled aloofness back on her face, as you slid the plate towards her, a shy grin on your lips. She looked down at it. Back at you. Completely disinterested.

When your smile began to falter, she took one off the plate, but into it, and huffed, shaking her head.

“Don’t think this counts as a bribe, pet. I’m still gonna make you do it over again until you get it right.” But there was an unmistakable grin on her face that you simply couldn’t miss. You took another sip of your tea, shoved half a biscuit into your mouth, and stood up to try again.

A/n: Hellooo. Thank you for reading. This scene has been stuck in my mind for a long time and I just didn't have the will to write it out, finally did. For all you new followers (💜) I don't usually post fics this often but AAA has really jogged me back into the writing mood so I'm making the most out of it before my new semester starts, or, trying to. The title is from the song Cup Runneth Over by Kiki Rockwell. I just feel like all her music has this witchy vibe so I thought I'd use it. Also feel free to say if this is too long, I try to keep my fics between 1-3k words. Love y'all!! <3

[lemonlover1110]

𝐌𝐚𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐲

Toji Fushiguro

[Chapter 2] Lunch

← Previous Chapter - Story Masterlist

Pairing: Toji Fushiguro x f!Reader

Story Warnings: Arranged Marriage, Enemies to Lovers, Heavy Angst, Attempted Murder, Murder, Smut, Eventual Fluff and Romance

*I completely forgot that i was cross posting, forgive me!! For all of those that asked, there's no edits! It's the same as AO3!

The interview goes well– at least you think it goes well, and then you wait for the reporter and photographer to go back home. There isn’t much to talk about since your father isn’t exactly the happiest about the man you’re engaged to, and he doesn’t want to let Naobito have a piece of his mind. You say your awkward farewells before leaving the house.

Your father doesn’t shut up once he gets into the car, he rants the whole way home and you tune him out. You just can’t wait to see your daughter. Every now and then you catch a bit of what he’s saying.

“That motherfucker really fucking screwed me over. We had agreed on that other nephew of his not on that piece of shit, good-for-nothing man.” It is around the fifth time your father says those similar words, and your stepmother is annoyed.

“What the fuck did you expect? Your daughter literally has a creature that most men don’t want to deal with! Suck it up!” She raises her voice.

“Who doesn’t want to deal with Misaki? She’s an angel brought from heaven!” Your father claims, the soft spot his heart has for your daughter is very visible. But he will still choose his wife over his granddaughter, the same way he chose his wife over his daughter.

“Angel brought from heaven.” Your stepmother scoffs. She’s grateful that the Zenins will soon take you off her hands. “Naobito informed me that the wedding is set to be in a month or so. The wedding planning has begun.”

“In a month? Did he not think to inform me, considering I am the bride.” You speak up, causing a laugh to come from her. You don’t find the humor in it.

“Inform you? He told me which is more than enough. I told you the news, so it isn’t coming up to you as unexpected.” She replies. You open your mouth to speak but she interrupts you, “This isn’t a marriage that’s made of love. If you fall in love with him, then good for you but at the moment it’s not about that. It’s to clean their image and to get you and your daughter off our hands. The wedding is not going to be to your liking but to theirs.”

“You don’t have to say it like that.” Your father tells her, but you can agree with her on something.

“She’s right. That’s the only reason you’re doing it, or else why are you marrying me off to a complete stranger?” You say.

“Because it’s what’s best for you and Misaki. You saw what happened with Misaki’s father, didn’t you? He left even though you have a daughter together. He claimed he loved you, didn’t he? But you still came back to my door with your daughter because you couldn’t pay the bills.” He begins and you want to interrupt him, but you let him ramble on as you roll your eyes at his every word. “My point is, I think marrying for love is pointless unless you both have money. I’m setting up your daughter to have a successful life, even if it costs your happiness. Love didn’t bring you anything good anyways.”

“I-” You try to think of a way to defend yourself, but it’s not worth it in the end. You mutter it though, “I was just unlucky.”

“As I was saying…” Your stepmother continues talking, “The wedding will be as they envision it. The only thing that will be adjusted to you will be your gown size, which will be in fact next week.”

“How big is this wedding supposed to be? A month isn’t a lot of time to organize a big wedding.” You ask, wondering how many eyes will be on you in a month.

“Really big. Every person imaginable will be there.” She answers. “As to wedding preparations, you don’t have to worry because you’re not doing it. The Zenins have hired people that are more than capable and work fast.”

You just stay quiet and close your eyes. Maybe this is all a dream– More like a nightmare. Maybe when you open your eyes back up you’ll go back to when you were five, when life was good. When you could go running back to your mother and give her a hug and she’d fill your face with kisses until you begged her to stop.

But you open your eyes back up, and the only thing you see is your father’s house, which looks as horrid as ever with the lack of color. You remember once upon a time that the outside was filled with a mix of beautiful colors, now it's colorless. The flowers that your mom once planted are gone; they have been for a long time.

You’re the first to get out of the car, and walk to the front door. You knock since you have no keys. Soon enough the door opens and you see the babysitter that your father hired. She lives in the neighborhood and is roughly sixteen years old.

“Hello, Utahime.” You greet her and she greets you back. “Did she behave?”

“She was a sweetheart.” She answers. You walk into the home, and as the little girl notices she drops her doll and runs to your side.

“Mommy!” She yells as she runs to your side. You kneel down to receive the hug that she so warmly welcomes you with. You kiss her cheek. She’s quick to ask, “How was lunch?”

“It was- good!” You tell her. She’s too young to know or even understand what’s going on. She made a fuss before you left and you assured her that you’d be back soon, that you were only having lunch with friends. “Nothing too interesting, how about you, baby? How did you like your time with Utahime?”

“It was good!” She replies. Your father and stepmother walk through the door and your daughter rushes to greet your father. She receives the same treatment you do from your stepmother, so she rightfully doesn’t like the woman. You get off the ground, and go upstairs to get Utahime’s money.

You quickly go back downstairs with the money and give it to Utahime. She thanks you and gets her stuff. She says her goodbyes before walking out the door.

Once the door closes, your stepmother opens her mouth. She looks down at Misaki. “You’ll be having a dad soon.”

“What?” Your daughter asks, blinking at the very much older woman, very confused. “What does that mean?”

You glare at the woman. Maybe you’re looking more forward to this wedding day than you first thought. You’ll even prepare a speech of all the things you want to tell her.

“Is daddy coming back?” Your daughter questions, hope in her voice which makes you want to break down crying. It hurts to crush her illusion.

“No, Misaki, you’re getting a new daddy.” Your stepmother responds. Your daughter’s hopes are not the same, but she’s not crushed. She doesn’t remember her father that much so she’s not scared of someone replacing him.

“Misaki, do you want to watch a movie with me?” You ask, switching the topic. She nods and walks to your side.

“Wake up, you two.” You hear a not so nice voice that slowly causes you to open your eyes. You look at the woman you despise more than anything in this world, and your day is already ruined. You know it’s not going to be a good day.

You caress your daughter’s cheek since she’s always hard to wake up in the morning. She groans but she eventually opens her eyes. The woman still stands in your room. It’s a rare sight to have her wake you up.

“What?” You ask, wondering what she wants. She never needs anything from you which is why you never spoke. She has people to cook or clean for her since your father is more than blessed to have the money for. Otherwise, you would be the one to be doing those chores. She wouldn’t be with him in the first place if he had no money.

You’re not the same little girl that she could torment so there’s no point in being in your room, more or less speaking with you.

“You have lunch with Toji today. Misaki is coming with, and there’s a couple of hidden paparazzi’s so make sure to look decent.” She informs you. You sigh as you get up from bed. “Be ready in two hours.”

You get up from bed and let the child rest for a couple more minutes while you begin the process of getting yourself ready. You first take a shower, and when you come back out you see your daughter still sleeping.

You wake her up again, and she gets up looking around confused. You want to smile. She’s your literal clone, she just has a couple miniscule features that are like her dad’s.

“We’re going out to lunch, baby.” You inform her. You walk back to the bathroom to fill the bathtub up with water for your daughter. You walk back to the room, and she’s still really tired. She wants to lay back down but you try to get her excited to go out. “We can get ice cream after lunch.”

“Really?” She asks, practically sold. She’s now fully awake and she gets out of the bed. She walks out of the room and into the bathroom. You walk in as well, while she does her business you shut off the faucet that is ruining water.

“Are we going to meet my new daddy?” She asks, which catches you off guard. You’re not sure how to respond.

“I-” You begin, but can’t find the right words. “He’s not your new daddy, honey, but we will be seeing him a lot more, soon.”

“Okay!” She responds as she gets up to wash her hands. You want to chuckle, thinking about how easy that was.

You get to the restaurant, and your father and stepmother decide to sit a couple of tables over. You sigh watching them be led by the hostess to their seat. You don’t get too much time to stare at them, soon enough you’re being led to the table your future husband is sitting at. 

You notice the infant that is sitting in a high chair, right next to his dad. There’s a genuine smile on Toji’s face as he feeds the baby some of the baby food. The baby isn’t too pleased with the food, you notice as his nose scrunches up, and half the food is practically down his chin.

The smile on Toji’s face disappears as he sees you and the little girl that is holding on to your hand. You make your daughter sit down before sitting down next to her. You and Toji exchange looks, his being nastier than yours. But he remembers there’s supposedly people around that are watching.

“This is my daughter, Misaki.” You introduce the little girl who is shy when meeting new people. She warms up easily, but Toji just has an intimidating look.

“Hi!” She surprisingly says, waving at the man. He’s not the kindest, but he has some manners. He reminds himself that your daughter is not you.

“Hi, I’m Toji.” He waves back. Toji then goes back to paying attention to Megumi. He tries to give the baby more food but he just flat out refuses to open his mouth. Toji sighs and puts the food back into the food. He looks back at you two, looking more at your daughter so his dislike towards you doesn’t seem as evident. “This is my son, Megumi.”

“Megumi’s a cute name. One of my baby dolls is named Megumi.” She is quick to inform him. She warmed up fast. He raises his eyebrow and continues the conversation with the child.

"Really? That's nice." Toji says. The waitress comes up to the table and you order your drinks. You watch the baby and can’t help but help but smile at the baby's adorable face.

“He’s so cute.” You comment and Toji hums in agreement. 

Toji taps his fingers on the table, everything a bit too awkward. He just doesn’t understand why he feels this way. Annoyed. You haven’t really done anything, and you seem like a decent enough human being but he feels frustrated and mad when he just so happens to look at you.

He just needed you to refuse that proposal, and make the Zenins clean up Toji’s image some other way. But getting married again so quickly– It is an easy plan, he admits, but he prefers a harder one because he learned that matrimony is a sacred thing.

He doesn’t want to get married again. More or less, with someone he’s not in love with. Since he’s not getting what he wants because of you, the negative feelings take over.

“How old are you?” His eyes are on your daughter. She puts five fingers up, a smile on her face as she tells him verbally.

“Five!” She tells him.

“Are you in school?” He continues questioning, wanting to know more about his future stepdaughter because the wedding is going to happen whether he likes it or not. Unless something happens.

He fights back a smirk as an idea comes to mind. The Zenins can’t throw him in the streets if something were to just happen to you.

“Mommy put me in preschool. I’ll be starting kindergarten soon!” She excitedly responds.

The waitress comes back with your drinks. Misaki and Toji continue to chat while you watch baby Megumi, who took a liking to the spoon. He wasn’t slapping it on the high chair, something your daughter would’ve done at his age, but he inspects it. He puts his little chubby fingers on it.

And as you hear your daughter speak with Toji, and watch as the adorable baby inspects his spoon, you think that things won’t be so bad.