#again...idk where this came from but i dig it??

[irxne]

on the second weekend of january an aunt passes away on the third week of january an uncle passes away you'd never guess what happened on the last weekend of the month... a cousin passes away

[crxwnedalex]

guys i think im losing my mind insdifnhbuf

[changbunnies]

Hopelessly Devoted To You (18+)

♡ Pairing: Greaser!Bang Chan x fem!Reader

♡ Genre: grease inspired 50s au, some angst and fluff, this was supposed to be a long full length fic but it somehow became just porn with plot lol

♡ Word Count: 11.2k

♡ Summary: You were so excited to see him again– the guy you'd spent your entire summer with, entagled in a fleeting but explosively sweet romance. But the Chris you meet again isn't the one you remember, and now if he wants to win you back he's going to have to prove just how devoted to you he really is.

♡ Warnings: chan is referred to as chris, smoking (cigarettes), some misogyny + toxic masculinity + fuck boy behavior, some 50s references and lingo, 1 instance of reader shoving chan in a fit of anger / sadness, jealous and mildly possessive chan, minor appearances from felix, changbin, minho, and hyunjin (who goes by sam)

♡ Smut Warnings: 1 reference to reader losing their virginity to chan, references / flashbacks to other smut scenes before the main scene, light dom/sub dynamics, switch!chan, pet names (doll, sugar, baby), public sex, car sex, exhibitionism, oral (f rec, referenced m rec), fingering (f rec), nipple play, daddy kink, panty stealing (kind of), squirting, 1 mention of reader having pubic hair, maybe a lil breeding kink??, protected piv

♡ Notes: i've had this sitting in my drafts since december and finally got around to finishing it gfdhgfh this is incredibly self indulgent as grease is one of my fave movies ever and chan as danny zuko is constantly rattling around in my brain. the build up is pretty short (by my usual standards) as i moved the plot along a lot quicker than i normally would so idk if it's my best work but hopefully you enjoy it!

♡ Disclaimer: please read responsibly, and remember that this work is fiction and meant strictly for imaginative fun. the idols used in fics are more accurately faceclaims and personality outlines for imaginary characters, and should not be interpreted as factual representations of existing people.

You remember well the first time you met Chris. Lounging aimlessly at the beach with the sunset on the horizon, his feet in the sand with a silver dog tag necklace hanging low over his bare chest, a cigarette from his previously discarded jeans held between his lips. Fresh from the ocean with beads of water still dripping off his toned body, slicking back his damp hair before fumbling through a different pocket for his lighter.

You watched him bring it up to his face after successfully digging it out, cupping his other hand around it to protect the flame as he lit the cigarette in his mouth. You watched him take a long drag, watched him blow the smoke out from the corners of his mouth, watched him sigh before deciding to towel dry his legs enough to wrangle his jeans back on. 

The beach had been quickly growing sparse by the time you spotted him. Groups of friends clearing out to make it to the local diner before all the tables were filled, parents wanting to get their kids to bed before the moon fully rose in the sky, couples on double dates bunching up in one car as they decide to hit the drive-in together.

You yourself were in no rush to leave– you came alone, tired of your parents bickering during what was supposed to be a fun family vacation. You’d stay as long as you could, you’d decided– really soak in the peace the sea brings before returning to your aunt’s beach house, where you were all staying for the summer.

But safe to say, the sight of him enraptured you. He was handsome, devastatingly so– you never expected to see a man with a visage to rival even that of James Dean himself with your own eyes, but there he was before you; and your heart stuttered when he glanced over in your direction.

He had just finished pulling his jeans up and over his haunches when he noticed you, cocking a brow when your eyes met– and you could tell in an instant that he knew you’d been staring at him. His smile made your breath hitch, pretty dimples peeking out on his cheeks as he acknowledged you with a playful wave.

Hesitantly, you lifted your hand and waved back, and he grinned, eyes still locked on yours as he pulled up the zipper of his jeans. He turned back to his belongings on the ground, shook the sand out of his white tee before pulling it on. He grabbed his leather jacket, slung it over his shoulder before turning to look at you once more.

You swallowed, face running hot from his gaze alone– you hoped, as he began walking towards you, that you could play it off as having not put on enough sunscreen before coming here. You were sitting on a towel, legs to your chest with your arms wrapped around them, but you lowered them as he approached you.

He tossed his cigarette to the the side once he was close, letting its flame fizzle out in the sand. He looked you up and down when you stood up, introducing himself with a charismatic smile that made your heart race faster. You stuttered when speaking, and his smile widened, one of his hands going to rest in the pocket of his jeans while the other kept his leather jacket in place over his shoulder. 

Chris was the most, to say the least– and when he asked if he’d see you again tomorrow, you promised him he would. You watched him walk over to a beat up, old top down cadillac, throwing his jacket into the car before jumping in– literally jumping in, hand on top of the closed car door as he hopped over it into the driver's seat. 

He gave you another glance after starting the ignition, and you smiled meekly as you offered him another wave. Chris grinned, raising his hand to say goodbye before putting it back on the wheel and burning rubber out of the parking lot.

You spent nearly every summer day with him after that. Days at the beach spent splashing each other in the water while you giggled, hopping in his cadillac to go catch whatever new flick was showing, or sharing a milkshake at his favorite diner. He’d hold your hand as you walked through the sand, giggled with you over silly inside jokes while eating burgers and fries, hugged you tight after you gave him a chaste kiss on the cheek at the end of the night.

Chris gave you dimes to pick tunes on the jukebox, and would sing along to your selections with the prettiest voice you’d ever heard. He took you to the county fair, would shoot you goofy grins after kissing you with lips sticky from cotton candy, got on the ferris wheel with you and squeezed your hand when the height made you dizzy, kissing away your nerves when you reached the very top.

He won you a teddy bear from the soda toss, put his leather jacket over your shoulders when the sun set and the air began to chill, wrapped his arm around your shoulder while you were waiting in line to buy some popcorn. He’d lean down to whisper a joke in your ear, and you’d slap his arm with a giggle while he squeezed you closer.

You watched him soup up the engine of his car, and he’d take your hand after a long day of working on it, pull you in to dance with him while the radio blared the hippest tunes. When he was satisfied with the restoration of his cadillac, he started taking you out on long drives, wind whipping through your hair as he drove fast through the back streets of the city.

He’d drive you to secluded hills overlooking the city, where you’d make out until he had to drive you home in time for curfew. He’d park his car far down the street, away from where your family could see him dropping you off– because Lord knows your mother's heart would give out if she saw you spending your vacation with a guy that looked like him.

And through it all, days spent back at the beach where you first met him were always your favorite. You would let Chris lay you down on a towel in the sand and kiss you over and over, until you were both heaving and hot. You lost your virginity to him like that– alone on the beach, towels laid down and moon high in the sky after having snuck out of the window of your guest bedroom to meet him.

He’d whisper sweet words in your ear, make you fall apart with deft fingers and an equally deft tongue. Sometimes, instead of sneaking out to see him, he’d be the one showing up at your guest room's window, grinning at you as you opened it to let him in. He’d fuck you there, in the bed with his hand clamped over your mouth to muffle your moans of pleasure, lest your family discover what it is you’re really up to while "alone" in your room. 

Chris would crawl over to you in the passenger seat at the drive-in, sink to his knees and dip his head underneath your long poodle skirt, the flick on screen long forgotten as he pulled your panties to the side to kiss and lick your dripping pussy. Sometimes he’d fuck you there too, parked all the way in back with the windows and hood of the car up to hide what you were doing (as if the rocking didn’t give it away to anyone who happened to look.)

Sometimes, when he parked up the street to drop you off after sharing ice cream at the drive thru malt shop, you’d lean over the gear shift, taking his cock out of his jeans and sucking him off right there, with not nearly enough care for who could possibly see you. He’d give you the sweetest kiss before helping you out of the car, promising he’d see you tomorrow too, and the day after, and the day after that, until eventually your family’s summer vacation had to come to an end.

Chris was a dreamboat that day, as he always was– hair greased back with a few curly strands left over his forehead, loose black tee tucked into his jeans, leather jacket on with its collar ever so slightly popped, his dog tag necklace sparkling when the sun hit it just right. He was leaning against the door of his newly souped up cadillac with a lit cigarette resting between his lips, though he promptly threw it to the ground when he saw you walking over.

“There’s my girl! And ain’t she a doll,” he grinned as he pulled you to his body, kissing you sweetly as you blushed. You weren’t wearing anything he hadn’t seen you in before– just one of your usual white blouses and pretty pink skirts, but he always made sure to tell you that he thought you were the absolute most.

He walked around to the other side of the car, opened the door for you and closed it shut behind you when you got in. He hopped into the driver’s seat after, starting the ignition and turning to you with that beaming smile that made your stomach flip. “What’s the plan today, sugar?” he asked, throwing his arm around you while leaving one hand on the steering wheel.

In the end, you spent the day as you had many times before– driving through the city, hitting up the diner to split a strawberry milkshake, and watching the sunset at the beach; the same beach where you met him, and where the house you were staying in lied just a couple hundred yards away. You were sitting on the rocks, his leather jacket off and resting behind you, his arm curled around your waist. 

His jeans were filthy with sand, as was your skirt, but neither of you cared– you just stayed there together, watching the sun sink lower and the waves crash against the shore. Chris kissed you when you looked up at him with watery eyes, agonized over the idea of never seeing him again. He’d given you the best summer of your entire life, and all you wanted was to stay– but you couldn’t. And though he comforted you the best he could, you both knew it was the end.

Chris held your hand to help you off the rocks, gave you a kiss before you turned away to make the walk to your aunt’s beach house. And you both knew it was the end– but not just yet. He came to your window later that night, and you let him in, bringing your hands to his face and eagerly pressing your lips to his.

He walked you back to the bed as you kissed him, laid you back gently and crawled between your legs. He made you cum on his fingers before reaching into the pocket of his jeans, pulling out a condom and tearing it open with his teeth. He rolled it easily down his cock, his jeans having fallen down his legs just enough to let him fuck you.

You reached your hands underneath his shirt, hungrily tracing your hands over every inch of his skin. Your nightgown was bunched above your thighs, legs spread wide to accommodate him. He eventually pulled the top of it down too, exposing your chest to him and leaving your stomach as the only covered part of your body.

Sweat dripped from his brow, his normally perfectly slicked hair tousled from your fingers sliding through it– and you didn't care that the pomade in his hair dirtied your fingers; in fact, it made it feel nicer when you brought your hand to one of your breasts, and rolled your nipples between them. Your stomach flipped when he grinned and called you a dirty girl, running a hand through his hair to grease up his fingers too and tweak the other nipple not being played with by your own.

He kissed you to muffle your moans and desperate whines, and it was nowhere near as effective as when it was his hand clamped over your mouth, but it was better. He had to slow down when fucking you fast unintentionally made your bedframe slam against the wall, and you gasped, praying no one woke up from the sound.

Thankfully, no one came knocking on your door– and though you were both desperate, clinging to one another hard and sliding your tongues around each other’s with fervor, he fucked you slow and deep after that. "Chris, daddy, please– 'm gonna cum," you moaned when he brought his slicked up fingers to your clit. 

Chris groaned before kissing you again, and you came with a muffled cry, your nails digging desperately into his biceps. He kept rolling his hips into you through it, your body trembling with sensitivity until he eventually came too, all his cum spilling into the condom. 

He stayed for a while after that, holding you close and wiping tears from your eyes with his thumbs. He snuck out in the middle of the night, promised you despite it all that it wasn’t the end– you’d see each other again someday, he just knew it; he wanted you to believe it too.

You got a couple of hours of sleep before morning, and gave your family the best smile you could manage as you tossed your luggage in the trunk of your dad's chevy bel air. You slouched in the back seat, trying not to cry and wishing more than anything you were in Chris’ old cadillac instead.

The Chris you reunited with wasn’t yours, and if it was, then fate was cruel for bringing you back to him.

The Chris you knew wouldn’t have looked at you like that– like you’re a desperate and fast girl, or an overly smitten near stranger hoping to get her kicks from him one last time while his friends snickered behind him. The Chris you knew wouldn’t join in on their snickering, tilting his head with an amused expression, tongue poking his cheek as he combs his fingers through his slicked back hair.

The Chris you reunited with wasn't yours, and the realization that you didn't really know him the way you thought you did utterly broke your heart.

You were back in the city– your parents, after having settled whatever marital disputes they were having, decided to settle down here. They loved their time together in the city when all their little tiffs were said and done, and they could tell you loved it here too.

They thought it’d benefit everyone to set up shop somewhere new, where everyone could reset. Plus, your mom wanted to be close to her sister again– and you certainly wouldn’t complain about spending more time at your aunt’s beach house.

You desperately wanted to see Chris again, and you knew it’d only be a matter of time before you did– unlike you, he grew up in the city, lived here his entire life. And while it’d been months since you parted at the end of summer considering your parents had to do a lot of work to shift the family business to a new location while also looking for a decent house up for sale, it would happen eventually– you were certain of it.

And soon enough you did see him, knew in an instant it was him even at a distance– because you’d recognize his restored cadillac anywhere. He was leaning against the car door like usual, cigarette in his mouth and leather jacket on his back, with a circle of friends around him. You never met his friends– he told you they were pigs, said that you wouldn’t like them much.

Besides, you were only going to be in town a few short months– why waste your precious few days hanging around with other people when you could be alone? That’s what he always told you– and as you tentatively began to walk up the street closer to them, you could tell they certainly did talk more vulgarly than you were used to hearing.

“C’mon man, you gotta let me borrow her,” one of his friends begged in reference to his car, “she’s a real pussy wagon. My chick’ll cream if I pick her up in it.” “Get your own wheels, bozo,” Chris shoved him with a laugh, “I ain’t lettin’ you take my girl on any joyrides.”

“What if you come too? Make it a double date, you know– and nobody’s got bigger tits than Annette. I got dibs, but she’ll be real nice eye candy for you,” his friend persuaded and Chris hummed, as if seriously considering it. Would he really go?

“Mm, maybe,” he grinned, tossing his cigarette to the ground and digging it into the gravel with his foot, “You do got a point. Tell her to bring a pretty friend, and I’ll think about it.” You blinked, stopped walking and simply stared at him. Had he moved on already? It’d only been a few months, but maybe you fell for him harder than he fell for you; the thought of it made your heart sink to your stomach.

His friend cheered and hugged him tight, and Chris pushed him away with another laugh, running a hand through his hair to fix it up as he characteristically did whenever it got even the slightest bit out of shape. In that same moment is when he glanced over in your direction, catching sight of you by pure coincidence.

His eyes widened when he saw you, mouth gaping open for a split second before he called your name in a mix of utter shock and joy. That was more like the Chris you knew– and it gave you hope. You ran up to him, and he to you, bringing his hands to your shoulders and touching you up and down your arms– truly, he couldn’t believe you were here, and he had to touch you to be certain it was real. 

“What– what are you doing here? I-I thought you went back home with your folks, I thought–” he was smiling, entirely giddy as he looked you up and down. “We moved! I’m here to stay,” you told him excitedly, bouncing on your heels as you stared up at him.

It made you so, so happy; to the point that the contents of his prior conversation entirely lifted from your mind. It pains you thinking back to how naive and lovesick for him you were– you wish you'd have known better. 

“I can’t believe it! I–” he started to exclaim, but then realized his friends followed him, crowding around his back while shooting him inquisitive looks, and he quickly took his hands off you.

He cleared his throat, tucked his hands in his pockets in a gesture meant to bring him back to his aloof state of being, and he grinned– not that pretty grin that made your heart flutter, but a wicked one. “I mean– that’s cool, baby.”

You didn’t like it, your brows furrowing at the change in his demeanor. “Christopher–” you started, but one of his friends spoke up before you could talk much more. “Who’s the chick?” he asked as he looked you up and down, and Chris hesitated. “Oh, uh–”

“Oh, I know!” the friend suddenly exclaimed, hit by an epiphany, “the one from the beach you wouldn’t let us meet– the one who puts out. This her? It is, isn’t it?”

Your face burned red, unpleasant heat crawling over your body as the rest of his friends snickered. He told them you put out? Why would he do that? Your expression crumbled, body trembling with embarrassment and grief, but Chris kept his own cool.

“Don’t worry, doll, I didn’t tell them all the horny details,” he smirked, and his friends' snickers erupted into full on laughs as they slapped his back in amusement. Your body burned hot with indignation, eyes welling with tears as your frustration and anguish boiled over. You shoved him as hard as you could, though it hardly even caused him to take a step back.

“I wish I’d never laid eyes on you, you– you creep!” you cried before turning away, ready to run back home to throw the teddy bear he won you in the trash and sob into your pillows. “That’s not all she laid on him,” one of his friends commented under his breath, the rest laughing and hooting as you sprinted away from them, back down the street.

Chris just watched, body tense and face sullen, heart twisting in his chest. He watched you turn the corner, wiping tears from your eyes before you disappeared entirely out of view, his friends still laughing and giving him pats on the back.

But when he turned to them, he put the smirk back on, and they all hopped into his car to hit the drive-in as if he didn't care about what just happened with you, as if the guilt wasn't going to eat away at him every night.

The next time Chris sees you is weeks later, at a new mom-and-pop shop freshly opened on the edge of the city. He’s there with his friends, all of them jumping out his cadillac before he’s even fully parked, rushing inside to grab a good table.

And when he walks in, it’s not his friends that he sees first but you– sitting at a booth with another guy across from you. There's an empty plate with tiny remnants of ketchup still left behind that he just knows you used for your french fries, and a milkshake between you with two straws stuck in it.

Part of him is relieved you aren’t sharing a single straw with the man like you would’ve done with him, but his gut still twists from the sight regardless. And when you giggle at something indiscernible the guy says, Chris feels liquid hot envy boil in his blood, jaw tightening and fists clenching as he cracks his neck. 

“Chris, over here!” his best pal, Felix, calls from across the shop, and that’s when you see him too. You can’t help but look when you hear his name called, eyes widening when they land on him. He tenses, eyes lingering on you for a few seconds longer before he inevitably joins his friends at the table they scouted out in the middle of the room.

He can't focus on anything his friends are saying– the only thing he vaguely hears through the fog in his brain is Changbin begging the others for spare nickels so he can afford the dog-sled delight. It all becomes tuned out noise, because all he can think about is how much he missed you, and how much it pisses him off that you're here with someone else.

It's Chris' own fault, he knows that, and that makes the feeling even worse– like bile in his throat that he can't swallow down. It doesn’t take Minho, the most perceptive of his friend group, to notice that he’s staring at you and to comment on it.

“What, you still hung up on that chick?” he questions, and Chris scoffs as he snaps out of his fog, leaning back in his chair and acting as aloof as he can bring himself to. “What? No, of course not,” he says, but his eyes still linger on you, fingers twitching with irritation when he hears you laugh again, and watches you playfully slap the man’s arm like you would do to his.

Eventually, you hold out your palm to your date, and he watches the guy dig through his pockets to give you something. Chris knows immediately what's happening– you’re waiting to be given a dime or two, and you’ll saunter off to the jukebox to pick a new tune once they’re in hand.

He watches you rise from the booth, waits until you’ve made the walk over to rise from his table, muttering to his friends that he needs to hit the can real quick. He takes a few steps in the direction of the bathroom, and then immediately turns, going straight to you instead.

He props an arm on the jukebox after he approaches, leans against it and looks down at you as you cycle through the record choices. “Hey baby,” he tries, but you ignore him, don’t even spare him a glance as you continue to give the jukebox your full attention.

“Listen– I’m sorry,” he tries again, and you just hum in acknowledgement, still not turning your gaze to look at him. He swallows, glances back at his friends who are perfectly oblivious to what he’s doing, and then back to you. “I just– you know how it is, right? The guys, they expect me to act a certain way, and–”

“That’s why I’m so glad I met Sam,” you interrupt, turning around to look at your date and offer him a sweet wave. Chris hates it, but at least you’re talking to him now– he’ll take what he can get. He still ends up scowling however when your date waves back, and you turn back to the jukebox, still without glancing up at Chris himself.

“What, you like that square?” he scoffs as he looks your date up and down. He’s smartly dressed; pristine khaki slacks and a brown sweater vest pulled over his white button up, his hair in a neatly styled, respectable crew cut– but that’s not your type.

At least, he hopes it's not; because that would make Chris the outlier, and that’s not what he wants to be. He’ll also be damned if he ends up losing you to a goody two shoes like that.

“He’s sweet to me. And I don’t have to question what his intentions are, unlike with you,” you reply, and the emphasis put on 'you' makes his heart sink. While he certainly deserves to hear it, it doesn’t make him any less upset– not with you, but with himself. He really let his pride and reputation get in the way, and he knows he fucked up. But he wants you, and surely you know that, right?

You finally settle on a tune; Those Magic Changes– the one he knows is your absolute favorite. The one he even used to serenade you with once whilst dancing, you giggling away with a cute blush on your cheeks whilst he twirled you around. He sang it more exaggeratedly towards the end, purposely putting on a goofy voice to make you laugh harder as he dipped you down.

He kissed you before lifting you back up, and then again when you were completely upright, your hand on his shoulder and his arm around your waist, your other free hands intertwined. The way you looked at him when he pulled back from the kiss made his heart pound, but he played it cool– shot you that grin that always made your legs feel like jelly, kissing your cheeks when it made your blush deepen.

Chris liked feeling the heat of your blush against his lips, liked having your hands on him even when it was in the purest of ways, liked the way you giggled and smiled at him when he playfully winked at you. The memory strikes him hard when you press the play button to start the song, and he takes a step back from the jukebox, fists clenched at his side.

You look at him then– really look at him. Instantly he feels small, your gaze that once held so much love for him now meeting him with the utmost scrutiny. He fucked up, he knows he did– but what does he do now? He can’t even trust himself to say something without fucking it up even worse. 

And the pain of it all hits you too– he can see it in your eyes just before you steel your expression, and do your best to act unaffected. "See you around, Christopher," you mutter as you turn away from him and the jukebox.

You walk back to the booth where Sam awaits your return with a smile, while Chris just stands there, your favorite song blaring painfully loud in his ears as he stares at your back. "..begs you please, come back to me, please return to me, don't go away again," the lyrics mock him harshly.

He doesn't know what to do, but he knows he has to do something, anything, to show you he’s sincerely sorry. He needs to show you he still wants you, needs you to give him another chance– more than he’s ever needed anything.

The next time Chris sees you is once again by coincidence, while he’s sitting alone in the parking lot of the sock hop his little sister just begged him to take her to. He was trying to decide what to do with his time– if he left, he’d have to come back in a couple hours to pick her up, but surely it was better than sitting around outside, bored out of his mind while he waited for her.

He could go in, but sock hops aren’t really his thing– the only time he ever danced was with you, and he didn’t plan on changing that. All he’d do inside is stand on the edge of the room and watch his sister dance, and he didn’t much feel like doing that either. Besides, his little sister was a good girl, and she didn’t need, nor want, his constant supervision.

And he’s just about to turn the key in his ignition and burn rubber when he sees you, arm linked with stupid fucking Sam as he opens the door for you with his free hand. And fuck, he doesn't even care that he's about to crash your date– he just needs to talk you. He jumps out of his car in a rush, pulling open the door to the building and heading straight to the line leading to the dance floor.

Chris’ jaw tenses when he sees you– Sam is leaning down to whisper something in your ear while you wait in the line, and you cover your mouth as you giggle. He hates how similar it is to the days he spent with you at the fair, waiting in line for rides and popcorn. The envy bubbling in his gut makes him feel sick, and he has to take a breath to calm himself down before he approaches you.

He steps to where you are in the line when he feels mellowed out enough, you and your date turning around curiously when they hear his voice call your name. Your eyes widen when you see it's him, but you’re quick to correct your expression before your date notices anything off about you. “Can I talk to you?” Chris asks, not at all acknowledging Sam’s presence beside you.

Even when you divert your gaze to glance at your date’s reaction, Chris’ eyes stay firmly on you, awaiting your answer. “Please?” he follows up, and it makes you swallow. It’s the first time he’s ever taken a pleading, desperate tone with you, and he can tell rejecting him isn’t going to come easily to you– it gives him hope that you'll finally hear him out, maybe even take him back.

“I–” you hesitate a moment, and just as Chris’ new, shiny hope begins to dim, you unlink your arm from your date. “I’ll be right back, just stay in the line,” you tell Sam before shooting Chris a look and walking past him. He follows you back outside, and you cross your arms as you stand against the cold brick of the exterior.

“What do you want?” you cut straight to the point. There’s a million things he wants to say, but his built up jealousy causes him to ask the stupid, burning question first and foremost. “Since when do you go to sock hops?” he questions, and it almost makes you laugh– he’s unbelievable, breaking your heart like that and then pulling stunts like this. 

“Since nice boys ask me to go with them. Why, you jealous?” you accuse him and he scoffs, trying once again to play off what he feels. “Me? Jealous? Don’t make me laugh,” he says, unable to help the instinctive reaction to being called out. And he instantly regrets it, but it’s too late to take it back.

“Oh, so you won’t mind if I go back inside then?” you ask as you step away from the wall, starting to walk past Chris and back to the doors. He grabs your arm to stop you, and you look up at him expectantly. “Don’t, I–” he grits his teeth, hesitates for a moment, but ultimately decides to be honest, “I am, okay? So don’t.”

He lets your arm go, and his admission thankfully proves enough to make you stay. You settle back against the brick wall, but you don’t look at him after– instead you look down at the ground, staring at your sleek, black and white saddle shoes instead of meeting his gaze.

It’s silent for a moment, with Chris wracking his brain as he tries to figure out the right thing to say to you. “What you did was terrible, you know,” you end up breaking the silence first, your voice soft.

“I know, I– I meant it when I said I was sorry,” Chris says while moving a step closer to you, and still you hesitate to look at him. “I didn’t believe you. Still don’t,” you reply, and honestly, he can’t blame you– he should’ve been more sincere when he approached you.

But he was being a fucking idiot, still trying to play it cool even though it was just the two of you standing there by the jukebox. And who gave a fuck if his friends happened to look over and saw him talking to you? Why should he care? Is it really so wrong for him to be whipped for you?

Even the first time he saw you again, he should've done all the things he really wanted to do. He should've kissed you and hugged you tight, should've told you how happy he was to know you’re here to stay, should’ve flipped his friends the bird and told them to fuck off if they questioned him. But he didn’t– he cracked under the expectations, and you suffered for it.

There’s a lot he wants to say, but he doesn’t know how to say it– he’s never been vulnerable about his feelings before you, but he wants to try. Even if he screws up over and over again, he’ll keep trying– because you deserve it. And he should apologize again, sincerely, but there’s another question burning in his blood that he has to ask.

“Do you really like that guy? You’re not, like– going steady, are you?” Chris questions and you shrug, finally looking up from the ground to meet his eyes. “That depends,” you tell him, peeling your back away from the wall to stand directly in front of him, holding your hands behind your back.

“On what?” he follows up, and you smile– a small one, but it’s enough for him. “On you,” you answer, and the hope flares back up, drowning out the envy and shame in veins and replacing it with pure, unfiltered glee.

“Yeah?” he grins as he tilts his head, and your smile grows the tiniest bit more as you nod. You may still have your doubts about his sincerity, but the fact that you’re willing to give him a chance is all he needs– he’ll use the time you give him to prove it to you, to make sure you’re left with no doubts that you’re the one that he wants, to promise that he'll never break your heart again.

“Come with me then, back inside– you’re gonna be my date,” he says as he holds out his hand to you. Sock hops may not have been his style before, but they can be for you. “What about Sam?” you question, but still take his hand regardless.

“He can stag it the rest of the night for all I care. You’re mine, sugar,” Chris replies, and it sends butterflies sweeping through your stomach as you giggle in delight. “And your friends?” you ask next, knowing it’s very well possible he’ll crack under the expectations of his rep with them again if they see you together.

“Fuck ‘em,” he replies easily; and you’re both sure it’ll be easier said than done for him to not give a shit what they think, but he’ll do his best. He doesn’t want to do anything to make you regret giving him another chance. “Let’s dance, baby,” he grins at you, pulling you along with him as he steps back inside the building with you in tow.

There’s a thought in Chris’ head that he never before thought he’d ever have– the sock hop was perfect. And well, maybe it’s not the sock hop itself necessarily that he enjoyed, but you– yes, it was most certainly you. The time spent with you was everything he’d been missing, everything he could’ve ever hoped for following your departure from the city and his subsequent abysmal fuck up. 

He knew he didn’t deserve any of it– and he was certain you were going to share a more serious talk about it all later, but he couldn’t deny the satisfaction he felt walking back into the building and seeing Sam utterly bewildered that his date was now clinging to his own arm instead.

And he won’t shirk his responsibility to do better by you– he’ll own up to his mistakes, he’ll change, be someone deserving of you. It may take a lot of time and effort to unlearn all the dumb shit he’s taken in over the years, but he swears he’ll try– tonight is just the start of a lifetime of proving to you that he’ll do anything to keep you.

All night, you’ve been positively radiant– and truly, Chris has never felt luckier in all his life. He delighted in the way you smiled at him while dancing, enjoyed the way you squealed in excitement and bounced on your heels when the live band decided to play a cover of your favorite tune, couldn’t help the way a goofy grin spread over his face when you pecked him on the cheek following a slow dance.

You’re the only one in the world who’s ever seen it, you know– the only one who gets to see his dimples, or to hear him giggle. The only one he’s ever sung to and danced with, the only one he’s ever wanted to stay up all night talking on the phone with, the only one he’s ever taken out for more than a quick and simple joyride in his car.

He could feel the inquisitive, disbelieving stares too– Chris has lived here his entire life, and everyone knows the kind of guy he is. And maybe he’s simply lucky– he knows he’s nothing but a delinquent, knows his reputation precedes him, knows he doesn’t deserve the affection of a good girl like you. 

Regardless of it all, you love him– enough to give him another chance even when he hasn’t yet done enough to earn it. And effortlessly, you unlock the soft part of him– the part of him that desires and yearns and wants. He burns for you, the only girl in the world his heart has ever raced for, the only who knew who he was beyond the rough surface he projected to the rest of the world.

Now you’re outside tentatively standing next to Chris’ car, waiting for him to come back from confirming with his sister that she’ll hitch a ride home from her friends instead of him. It embarrasses him how she grills him with questions about you– and he answers in the vaguest of terms, having to promise that he’ll fill her in on it all in more detail later, but to please just let him go be alone with his girl.

He’s certain that no one else would believe it if he told them, but his intentions to be alone with you are entirely pure. Now that he’s close to having you as his again, he wants to do right by you– take it slow, kiss you soft and tender, touch you light and chaste, respectfully, sweetly. He wants to take you on dates again, wants to save up all his quarters to buy you something special, wants to devote his every moment to showing you how sincerely he loves you.

He wants you to meet his friends properly (after he gives them a stern warning to be gentlemen in front of you), wants you to meet his parents, and he wants to meet yours in turn. He wants to stop playing it cool and aloof and confident when he feels something– doesn’t want to keep pretending that the way you look at him doesn’t drive him wild, not just with lust but with adoration.

And certainly, you know that Chris is softer than he outwardly appears– you’re not blind to the way his cheeks and ears burn when you kiss him sweet and call him that name that makes his heart skip a beat. And unlike you, Chris knew what he was doing– so it was natural for him to always be the one leading your little song and dance, even when on the inside he felt like he was going to positively combust from the way your eyes sparkled at him.

There’s something you’ve been wanting to try– something that you couldn’t before, because your summer together passed by in a blink, and there was so much you didn’t know when your relationship first began. And Chris has taught you a lot in your time together– maybe more than he even realizes.

He may not know it, but he’s made you into a real insatiable minx. And now that you know he’s willing to beg and plead and grovel for you to take him back, oh how it makes your heart race with the possibilities. How far can you take it? How far is he willing to go for you, to prove that he’s devoted to you entirely? Would he really do anything to keep you?

Chris told you, just a few moments ago as the sock hop was coming to an end, that he’ll do anything and everything to make sure you don’t regret giving him another chance with him. He looked you straight in the eyes, vulnerable and entirely sincere, squeezed your hands in his as countless promises left his lips. 

Could he be manipulating you? Is he nothing but a dirty liar? It’s certainly possible– but you’d like to believe the Chris you knew last summer is the truest version of himself. You’d like to believe that the Chris you saw tonight isn’t an act to keep stringing you along. So you want to try something– something bold, something the you of last summer would’ve never thought to do.

You don’t think your shyness will ever entirely evaporate given that Chris is such an utter dreamboat, but he does well enough at playing it cool, so who's to say you can’t do it too? You can be playful and enticing, can play it coy and innocent while you flutter your lashes at him, can smile and pout at him in a way that makes desire spread through his veins like explosive, hot fireworks.

When Chris walks back out of the building you have to make a conscious effort to ignore the butterflies in your stomach– you’ve decided you’re a woman on a mission tonight, after all. The parking lot is sparse now, and the last stragglers from the sock hop all shuffle to their cars, his sister and her group of friends being among them.

Though you only met her briefly, you offer her a pleasant wave goodbye, and she smiles at you as she returns it– though you don’t miss the way she shoots her older brother a look after. A look that says “don’t fuck this up for yourself.” It almost makes you giggle– you like having his sister on your side; you get the impression she’ll chew him out if he doesn’t shape up the way he’s promised to. 

Chris doesn’t turn to you until after his sister and her friends have peeled out of the parking lot– you’re not sure if it’s because he wanted to make sure she was going to be safe, or if it’s because he felt like she’d gotten enough of an eyeful of him being affection with you, and he’d be embarrassed if she saw anymore. You like either answer.

“Hi baby,” he says, soft and sweet as he smiles, and it makes your heart once again skip a beat. Even after hours of dancing, he still looks utterly perfect– not a single piece of his greased up hair out of place. You hope you’re faring the same– you didn’t really get a chance to look at yourself in the mirror at the end of the night to know for certain, but you want Chris to think you look divine.

“Am I taking you straight home?” he asks; it’s dark out now, but you still have a fair amount of time before you’re expected back home. And while he’d love to spend more time with you, he isn’t going to assume– this is a trial period, after all; he still has to earn that, he’s sure.

Calling you his earlier was more hope on his end than confidence– he wants you to be his, but he knows he has to earn your trust back first. And he’s going to be a gentleman– any boundary you have, he’ll adhere to, no matter what. He refuses to fuck up with you again.

“No,” you answer short and simple, smiling up at him as you do. But before he can ask you what you want to do until curfew, you’re speaking again. “My shoe's untied,” you pout, leaning back against his car while gently lifting your foot from the ground to show him, “can you fix it for me, please?”

“You want me to tie it for you, baby?” he laughs a little as he tilts his head to the side, thinking you’re just oh so cute when you keep up the pout as you nod. He gets down on one knee easily, and you put your foot right on his knee, watching as he ties your laces back together. When he’s finished, you don’t put your foot back on the ground– you press it right to the middle of his chest.

“Baby?” Chris looks up at you curiously– and there’s a twinkle in your eye he’s never seen before. He almost thinks you’re going to kick him back on his behind, but you don’t– you take your skirt into your hands, and start to pull it up. Slowly, it rises above your calf, your knee, your thigh, until he can see your pretty white panties, with its precious little pink bow in the center.

“S-Sugar, what– what are you–” he stammers, struggling to form words in a way he never has before. You’ve never exposed yourself to him like this– just out in the open, with no barrier between you and the rest of the world. You aren’t in your bedroom, you aren’t inside the car with the windows and hood up– you’re out, in the middle of the fucking parking lot where anyone could see. 

Fuck, even the times at the beach, when he made love to you in the sand, were much, much more secluded than this– because those excursions were isolated, close to your aunt’s beach house and happening in the dead of night. And this is very much not– it’s barely even 9 o’clock, and you’re at a public venue; anyone could come by, and for any reason.

“I need your help with something else too, daddy,” you say as you pout some more, clearly acting coy, and he swallows as he stares up at you. “Can you do it, daddy? Can you help me?” You take as much of your skirt's fabric into one hand as you can, keeping it lifted above your thigh while you move your other hand between your legs, pulling your panties to the side to show him your pussy.

The action sends all of Chris’ blood careening to his cock– he can’t believe you’re really doing this right now. “Right– right here? N-Now?” he gulps, taking a quick glance around the parking lot. You’re alone now, but still– he never thought you’d do something so bold. Even just fooling around in the back seat of the cadillac with as much privacy as he could give you made you impossibly shy.

“Yes, here, now,” you tell him, keeping your panties hooked to the side with two fingers, while using the other two to spread your folds apart for him the best you can. You’re trying to entice him, and fuck, is it working. He never thought he’d see you this way, and it’s making him feel so utterly electric– he’s a fucking live wire, and he’ll pour his current straight into you.

Anything you want from him, it’s yours– he doesn’t need any convincing, he’s already impossibly ensnared by the rope that is your desire for him. And fuck, he said he wouldn't do this, said he'd be a gentleman, take things slow and build back up to intimacy with you– but if you're practically begging him for it, how can he resist?

Chris takes your foot into his hand, carefully lifts it from his chest and throws your leg over his shoulder before he crawls closer to you. The concrete of the parking lot ground is brutal against his knees, but he doesn’t give a shit– you need him, and that’s all that matters.

He replaces your hand, keeps your panties shoved aside with his own. Now that your hand is free you use it to hold onto the car door and give yourself some extra support as he starts placing kisses to your clit. His lips always feel so perfect– especially when he licks them first, gets them nice and wet for you; the sensation draws out a pleasant sigh, but you both know it isn’t really enough.

Chris likes to tease you, make you wait until you’re squirming and trembling from all his repeated kisses, gets you so worked up you could beg and cry before he finally gives you his tongue. But tonight is about getting what you want, when you want it– so as much as you enjoy his soft little kisses, you’re not going to let him work you up.

He’ll be the one fraying at the edges, the one desperate and pleading, the one who feels like his brain is filled with cotton, looking up at you from down on his knees with glassy eyes full of need. You let go of the car door, bring your hand to his head and thread your fingers through his hair. You pull back just enough to have his head tilting away from your pussy, making his eyes land straight up at you.

“Baby–” he gasps, and again you meet his gaze with that sinfully deceitful pout. “You said you’d do anything for me, daddy,” you say as you shoot him your best doe eyed look, “Did you mean it? Will you do anything for me?” Fuck, you’ve got him throbbing– you can see his erection straining against his jeans, and it nearly makes you grin in delight.

Still, you don’t crack– Chris always does well at only showing you the version of himself he wants you to see, and you will too. You won’t give him your meek looks or timid declarations of desire for more of his touch– he’ll only see a new you; a confident you who knows exactly what she wants. You’ve learned from the best, after all.

“Well?” you demand when he doesn’t immediately answer, and you watch him swallow, swearing you can see the shiver that spreads down his spine and throughout the rest of his body. “Y-Yeah baby, I meant it. I’d do anything for you,” he tells you, hoping you can’t see how red his face and ears are getting in the low light.

“Prove it– prove you want me, prove you’re good for something,” you say, and again he shivers, breath catching in his throat. “Eat it, make me cum.” Fuck, Chris is reeling– he still can’t even believe it’s really you talking to him this way. His brain feels like a faulty circuit board, all his synapses sparking dangerously as they fire off, ready to ignite his blood and engulf him in an uncontrollable flame of desire.

When you let go of his hair, he wastes no time diving right into your pussy, eating you out like a man starved. He brings his free hand to your ass, squeezes and holds you in place while he shakes his head to get more of you on his tongue, his nose bumping your clit and making your legs quiver.

You bite your lip, doing your best to suppress the loud moan he brings out of you by sucking on your clit. His plush lips wrapped around it, the flicks of his tongue, how expertly he sucks– it’s already so overwhelming, in the best way possible. Chris does his best to sink lower, tries to lick at your hole and get his tongue inside, but it’s hard like this– he’s not sure if he can.

“B-Baby, doll, let me lay you down, in the car, let me–” he pulls away from your dripping center to look up at you, and fuck, he looks ruined in the prettiest way imaginable. His eyes are hazy and pleading, glistening with your arousal from the tip of his nose all the way down to his chin, sweat dripping down his brow. “Need to spread you out, I– please? Gotta taste more of you.” 

Shit, you can’t deny you want it– especially not when he’s begging like this. You nod, and he smiles at you in appreciation, a smile that makes your knees even weaker than they already are. You take your leg off his shoulder, and he quickly rises to his feet, giving you a messy kiss before he ushers you away from the car door to open it for you.

You crawl into the back seat, and he follows, slamming the door shut behind him. He waits until you get comfortable, not acting until you're lying propped against the opposite door of the car. Chris hooks your panties in his fingers, pulls them down your legs and tosses them aside into the footwell; it'll be a sweet treat for him when he finds them again later.

He'll keep them, he thinks– stuff ‘em in his pocket and take them back to his room, where they'll lie safe and protected under his pillow. It's a dirty thought, one that'd otherwise fill his gut with shame, but right now all he feels is need– need for you to cum on his tongue, need to give you everything you want and more.

He settles on his stomach between your legs, and it’s certainly not easy, but he manages well enough. One of your legs ends up over his shoulder again while the other stays spread out with the help of his hand holding you under the knee. And finally, his tongue dips into your hole, and it’s pure bliss– maybe even more so for him than you. He’s hungry, utterly ravenous; all he can think, breath, and taste is you, you, you.

“Chris– your fingers, need your fingers,” you whine more shamelessly than you would've otherwise liked, but you know he enjoys it. He separates from you long enough to run his fingers between your folds, making sure they’re nice and slick for you before he presses them to your hole. 

He slides one finger in first, bringing his mouth back to your clit while you adjust to the feeling. Your legs are already trembling by the time he adds another finger, and when he starts curling his fingers to hit your most sensitive spot while flicking his tongue against your clit you can hardly even breathe– it’s just so, so good.

Your stomach is clenching, thighs and legs shaking hard, your release building up with an intensity you’ve never felt before. “Oh, fuck, Chris–” you cry when he presses the tips of his fingers into your spot harder. You’re certain that if it wasn’t for the fact that you’re still wearing your shoes, your toes would be curling from the pleasure.

Your pussy sounds so sloppy and messy, and Chris himself isn’t making it any better– he’s drooling so much, his saliva drenching you just as much as your own dripping arousal. You’re breathing hard, and even your hands are shaking as they continue to hold up your skirt to watch him devour you.

“Oh my god, ‘m gonna cum, I’m gonna– fuck, gonna cum for you daddy, please don’t stop,” you’re crying loud– and you know you should at least try to be quieter considering how out in the open you are, but you’re too far gone to care. With your head thrown back, you whimper and moan, high pitched and loud, eyes rolling back as your orgasm takes you.

It feels like it’s endless, the waves of pleasure ceaselessly jolting your body as your vision blurs white; and you feel wet; so, so wet. It’s only when you finally come down from the high and lift your head back up from where it thunked against the car door to look at Chris that you realize why you feel so drenched.

It’s not just your thighs that are dampened– it’s your skirt, Chris’ face and shirt, the leather of his seats; all of it is soaked with your cum. Your face starts to burn hot, and you swallow as Chris stares at you, almost bewildered. “Baby– did you just..?” You squirted for him, because of him– he doesn’t even fucking care how much of a nightmare it’s going to be to clean his car, all he can think about is how fucking sexy it is.

You simply nod, because it’s all you can think to do– you really weren’t expecting this to happen. “Oh my god, baby, you have to do it again, please, you have to,” he practically whines, and his enthusiasm over it makes you giggle. You honestly feel more than a little shy about it, but Chris’s apparent elation makes it worth the tinge of embarrassment.

You reach out for him, take the necklace dangling from his neck into your hands and pull, urging him to come closer to you. He crawls up your body, and you kiss him, sliping your tongue into his mouth and tasting yourself all over him. “Fuck, you’re so dirty baby,” he groans when you pull away, “what are we going to do, huh?”

It makes you giggle again, a soft thing full of mischievous delight. He basks in it, giggles with you before he kisses you again. “Need your cock now,” you tell him when he pulls away, and shit, he’d nearly forgotten how fucking hard he is whilst wrapped up in pleasuring you. He can feel it straining against his jeans, desperate for stimulation of its own.

“Yeah? Want my cock baby?” he asks, grinning at you the way he always had before; you tug on his silver chain again in response. “Don’t forget, you’re giving me everything I want. Everything, okay?” you say once his face is mere inches from yours again, making him look you closely in the eyes. Chris swallows as he nods, the smile you offer him once again making his brain feel fuzzy and floaty.

He looks you over once more, really takes it all in before he scrambles over the front seat, reaching for the glove box where he still has some spares from your time together over the summer. Condom in hand, he settles back over you, and you help him with his jeans while he tears the package open. He spreads it quickly down his length, and you take your legs in hand, holding them under your knees to keep yourself open for him. 

The sight of you like that is dizzying– legs open, skirt bunched up all the way to your stomach, pussy wet and glistening, with the hair there matting from how wet you are; you’re perfect. So fucking perfect. He moans as he pushes into you, so slick that you take him with ease. You take his face in one of your hands and pull him down to kiss you, a desperate one that makes pleasure lick over every inch of his skin.

Chris rolls his hips into you slowly to start, while you let go of the leg you're still holding to wrap your limbs around him, keeping him pressed close. He grabs onto the car door, uses it to keep himself steady when he starts to pick up the pace of his hips, harsh breaths and low moans leaving him freely. Neither of you are trying to be quiet, the street lights are burning bright, the hood of his car and the windows are down, anyone could hear you or see you– and the excitement of it all makes the pleasure he feels all the more intense.

“Baby, your tits– let me see ‘em, please, can I see ‘em?” he asks between labored breaths– he needs to see them, has missed them more than is probably allowed. You quickly do as he asks, fumbling with the top few buttons of your blouse to expose yourself to him. You tug down your bra so he can see your breasts bare, and again he groans, bringing his free hand to one of them to brush his thumb over your hardened nipple.

“Oh, you’re so pretty– so, so pretty baby,” he says, groaning when the words make you clench harder around him. It doesn’t take long for the car to start rocking with the motion of his thrusts, his rhythm quickly growing sloppier. He’s been so worked up, and believe it or not, he hasn’t actually fucked anyone since you– he feels so high strung and on edge, and he doesn’t know how much longer he can hold out.

He just hopes he can make you cum again before he does, or at least make you cum with him– he needs you to be happy with him. You can feel his cock twitching and throbbing, you can tell that he’s already impossibly close– so, like the little minx you are, you talk dirty to him, wanting to see him utterly unravel at the seams. “You gonna fill me up, daddy? Make this pussy all yours?”

Chris gasps and shudders, goosebumps erupting all over his impossibly hot skin. He knows he can’t actually– all he’s going to really fill up with his cum is the condom, but fuck, the thought of it is making his head swim. “Y-Yeah, gonna fill you up baby, daddy’s gonna make you so full,” he breathes, and God, that really does it for you.

You bring your fingers to your clit, rubbing in quick, practiced circles. Even through the condom he can feel you gushing and soaking his cock, and it sends him over the edge– as do the sounds of your incredibly pretty whimpers and moans of pleasure. His hips still when he cums, his bottom lip tucked between his teeth as his eyes roll back, head thrown back in utmost bliss.

It takes Chris a few moments to recollect himself and catch his breath, and he slowly slips out of you when does. He tucks his softening length back in his jeans before he helps you fix your bra, and smoothes your skirt out over your legs while you button your blouse back up. “You feeling okay, baby?” he asks, wiping messy strands of hair out of your face.

You’re both covered in a sheen of sweat, faces flushed and hot, hair utterly a mess– it’s obvious, even with your clothes fixed up, what you’ve been doing. “Mhm, are you?” you ask, and he smiles, giving you a quick peck on the lips. “I’m peachy keen, jelly bean,” he replies and you giggle, kissing him once more.

He looks at himself in his rearview mirror when he pulls away, does his best to fix his messy hair while you lift yourself up from your propped position and stretch out your aching limbs. He then takes another glance around the parking lot, and notes that you’re still the only ones here– thank God. He was too enraptured by you to check earlier, and he’s grateful that no one else has showed up.

“Should probably get you home now, yeah?” Chris asks, looking at the clock on his dashboard and noticing it’s now getting dangerously close to your 10 o’clock curfew. He helps you get into the passenger seat when you nod, and you smile at him when he settles in beside you. He turns the key in the ignition, one hand resting on your thigh while the other stays on the wheel, and he drives you home.

Chris parks up the street, like he did all those times at your aunt’s beach house. He watches you walk over to your house, and he smiles when you turn around to blow him a kiss. At 11 he leaves his car, walks up the street to your home, and approaches the only window with a light still on– the window to your new bedroom. And you smile as you open it for him, letting him crawl his way inside.

He sees the teddy bear he won you at the fair sitting right in the middle of your bed, nestled against your pillows, and he smiles, delighted that you still kept it even after he broke your heart. “I love you, baby,” he tells you in a whisper after a sweet kiss, “never gonna hurt you again, I promise.”

“You better keep that promise, mister. Or I might just have to make you jealous again,” you warn and tease him with a cheeky little smile. He strips out of his jeans and tee shirt as you turn off your lamp, lies down beside you after you settle into your bed, runs his hand up and down your back as you press yourself against him. Head on his chest, with your arm and leg tossed over him, he kisses your head and smiles once more– because as he promised, this is just the start of a lifetime.

network tags: @ksmutsociety @skzstarnet

[bluebeary-jay]

A promise softly sung

Astarion x f!Reader/Tav

Summary: before the battle that will decide his fate, Astarion is terrified of losing you to Cazador. you comfort him after a nightmare. (set at the beginning of act 3)

Tags: hurt/comfort, BIG angst and some fluff, poor boy doesn't believe he's deserving of love :( let's hold him until he changes his mind

Warnings: mentions of trauma, self-deprecating thoughts, memories of past abuse and torture, c*zador, being unable to move (briefly), tadpoles mention (idk if that's a trigger)

Word count: 2.1k

A/N: hiiiiiiiii my darlings <33 soo this is something else from what i usually write but i finished bg3 recently and i LOVED IT but i'm on a trip rn so in the absence of my pc i found some inner inspiration to write something again. honestly i missed writing very much but i had the biggest block for almost a year now but maybe it'll get better now that my classes are starting again and i'll be needing a distraction lmao. anyway comments and reblogs are always greatly appreciated and don't be shy to send in a request! and as always, happy reading!!! <3

He was there again.

Astarion loathed those hard, stone walls as much as he feared them. It was here that he once spent an entire night, having infernal script meticulously carved into his skin. It was here that he was punished every time he disappointed his master, every time he didn’t do well enough on his mission. It was here that he was reminded time and time again how worthless, pathetic and meaningless his existence was. It was here he returned in almost all of his nightmares.

But now you were here, too.

Astarion couldn’t believe this, but no matter how much he blinked or willed himself to wake up, the view before his eyes didn’t change. It was you, chained by the wrists to the ceiling where he was hanging so many times before, your toes just barely scraping the ground that was already splattered with your blood. Your clothes were ripped to shreds and cuts and bruises covered almost every inch of your skin. Astarion wanted to run up to you, to get you somewhere safe and far away from this place, but he found that he was unable to move. It wasn’t shock seizing up his limbs, but magical paralysis which he had experienced a couple of times during combat. Even though he knew it was a spell that was holding him in place, he still fought against it with all the strength he could muster – but to no avail.

Your eyes, full of tears and fear, met his briefly before you looked past him at someone else.

“Ah, my sweet, insolent boy,” whispered a voice straight from Astarion’s deepest, darkest nightmares, causing him to tense up in terror. A hand – pale, all too familiar in its deceptive tenderness – brushed his jaw from behind before grabbing his hair roughly. The vampire spawn could do nothing but watch as his head was tilted back and he came face to face with his master.

No, it can’t be… How was Cazador here? How were you here?!

“You’ve been a very bad boy, Astarion,” Cazador tutted, shaking his head. “Running away like that, not returning home for months… It’s no way to treat family, isn’t it?” Astarion felt a sharp sting of his master’s quarterstaff at his back, digging into the scars made by the same hand, but he couldn’t move, couldn’t even scream. “But I’ll forgive you… eventually. After all, you brought me this delectable treat…”

Both him and Cazador looked up at you when Astarion realized what – or rather, who – that bastard was talking about. He tried shaking his head, tried begging for him not to hurt you, but he still couldn’t move, his voice was still stuck past his throat and no word or sound came out. In the meantime, Cazador stood up, walking around his spawn to stand in front of you.

“His own survival was always the most important thing to him,” Cazador said almost pitifully, and only after a moment Astarion realized that this time, he was speaking to you. “He’s a selfish, contemptuous creature, after all. Say, did he tell you he loved you before he lured you here like so many others before you? Did he lie, swearing how much you mean to him?”

“Yes, he… he did.”

Astarion prayed to any higher being that it was just the power of another spell compelling you to say that, and not what you were really thinking. He tried to struggle against his own magical restraints, but whatever scroll or verbal command was used, it was far too powerful for the vampire to beat it with sheer willpower alone. He was helpless again – but worse than that, he was forced to watch you being at Cazador’s mercy, too, all while he couldn’t do anything to save you.

“I honestly didn’t think poor Astarion had it in him,” Cazador continued calmly, gliding gracefully around you and disappearing behind your back. Your own eyes, now full of hurt and betrayal, were trained on Astarion’s. He couldn’t turn away, but in the corner of his vision the elf saw a flash of a blade against your bare skin. “To give away one person who, for some strange reason, saw good in a filthy worm like him… But I’m so very proud of you, sweetling.” Cazador looked at him over your shoulder and licked his lips, so, so dangerously close to your neck. “You’ll live to serve me for centuries to come, and you can watch your lover take your place in my ritual… You did well, Astarion.”

No, Astarion cried in the prison of his own body, unable to reach you or to even stop Cazador from spilling lies into your ears. Not her, no, no, please–

“No!”

Cazador smiled widely and sank his teeth into your fragile neck, and you screamed, still looking at Astarion with this horrible hatred in your eyes…

“No, no, please! Take me, please, just don’t–”

“My love, it’s alright, you’re safe…”

“Stop! Please, just–!”

His body suddenly jerked painfully and his eyes shot open, darting around in confusion and trying to figure out where he was. Astarion wasn’t feeling the cold frigid air of the kennels anymore – instead his skin was almost hot, and damp from sweat, but there was something smooth and soft under his back… the sheets. He was in a bed, at an inn. Still panting heavily, he looked around, noting the details in his surroundings: the crooked chandelier, a little window with curtains drawn shut, his shirt hung neatly over the back of the chair… and your shoes right next to it.

At the memory of your battered and tortured body in Cazador’s dungeon, Astarion shot up with a belated sob, almost knocking you over in the process. Only when your warm hand left his cheek did he notice your presence. You were kneeling next to him on the mattress, expression worried and sorrowful, with the last traces of sleep just leaving the edge of your vision. His red eyes scanned your body, but there were no bruises, no cuts made by Cazador’s wretched blade, no burns on your wrists from the manacles he saw you in mere moments ago.

And there was no hatred in your gaze. Only love and care he didn’t deserve.

Astarion’s eyes filled with tears, but before he could run out of the room or hide under the bed, you opened your arms, gently offering him the solace within. And he, being the selfish, contemptuous creature that he was, didn’t deny himself what he wasn’t worthy of.

“It’s okay,” you whispered, petting his hair softly, while the other hand was – as always – mindful of the scars on his back. “It was a dream, my love. You’re safe here with us.”

His body shook with quiet sobs as he buried his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling the soothing scent of your skin and your blood singing to him just beneath. He saw again before his eyes the way Cazador looked at him before he bit you, right in this place he was now so close to…

To give away one person who, for some strange reason, saw good in a filthy worm like him…

“I’m sorry,” Astarion choked out, finding his voice at last, which made you pause in your ministrations. “I’m so sorry f-for not doing anything… He…”

You were quiet for a couple of seconds, but then Astarion felt the most tender touch of your lips on the crown of his head, and he buried his face more into your chest.

“I’m here, darling,” you whispered. “Whatever you saw, it wasn’t real.”

He didn’t answer, instead lifting his arm and tentatively brushing his fingers just underneath your shirt. He didn’t feel any scars mirroring his own, but could still see the blood flowing from your back and down your legs, could still hear your painful scream… It brought fresh tears to his eyes again.

“I… I swear, I would never do that,” he attempted to explain himself, but his words came out in a pathetic sob, and he shook his head again, curling in on himself. “He– he was lying. I’d never…”

A fresh wave of tears wetted your shirt, but you didn’t seem to mind as you gently rocked him back and forth, cradling him safe in your arms. Old Astarion would probably scoff at the condescending action of being treated like an infant, but he knew better now. He still found it difficult, but with you at his side he was learning what true care and affection looked like, and how to accept it. You were always so patient with him, so gentle, never rushing or angry when he couldn’t give you the closeness and intimacy you deserved. Astarion loved that about you – even if he wasn’t ready to say it out loud just yet.

“My star…” you hesitated, but ultimately asked, “what did you dream about?”

The vampire took a shaky breath, unable to open his eyes or speak about what he saw. Instead, he called on the tadpole in his brain and nudged your mind with it, wordlessly asking for permission, which you immediately granted. There was at least one thing the tadpole was good for, he thought as you lived through the nightmare his weak, broken mind had conjured. If by the gods’ grace all of them managed to get rid of the tadpoles and survive this whole ordeal… and if by some miracle you still wanted to stay with him after all was done… Astarion knew he would have to learn how to communicate his feelings on his own. But not tonight. Not tonight.

You didn’t say anything for a long while, only continuing to hold him close to your chest. In this position he could hear the soothing beat of your heart, proving that he didn’t lead you to Cazador, that he didn’t turn you into a monster like him…

“We’re gonna kill him,” you finally said with your throat tight from emotions. “I promise you, as soon as we get to the Baldur’s Gate, we’ll find him and end him for good.”

Astarion knew what he should say – he should agree, or maybe jest that this is the most romantic thing you’ve ever said, or even argue that it’s not going to be that easy.

But all he could do right now was to continue clinging to you like a child, too afraid to face you.

“I’d never give you away,” he breathed, so quietly that he wasn’t sure you heard it, but he didn’t care. “Even if I had to suffer another two hundred years. I’d never–”

“I know, my darling,” you whispered back, and Astarion felt your own tears disappearing in his white locks. He still couldn’t believe why someone like you would waste your tears on him of all people, and it caused a new kind of pain to bloom in his chest. “And you’re not those things he told you. You’re… you’re everything to me, Astarion. Everything.”

Astarion wondered if he’d ever believe that. You proved to him time and time again that you can make anything possible, even change the worldview of someone like him… but with Cazador’s threat still looming, he didn’t have it in him to try and convince himself of your words.

Maybe after the bastard's dead, he concluded. Maybe then it’ll get easier and he can finally start becoming someone deserving of you.

You stirred slightly, breaking him out of his musings. Astarion hugged you tighter, sharply stopping you from moving away.

“Please. Don’t go.”

You just leaned back on the pillow and kissed his head gently again. Astarion felt the tension in his body melting away just a little, but the tears welled up again in his eyes.

“I won’t. Promise.”

And you kept your promise. Astarion didn’t fall asleep again, but your constant heartbeat under his cheek brought him some semblance of peace as he waited for the sun to rise. It didn’t feel right to let you care for him so much, to gift and envelop him with your love that he didn’t deserve… But it’d be even more wrong to take that choice away from you. He knew all about that, after all, and he'll be damned if he ever treats you the way he was treated.

So Astarion decided that he will let you love him and he will love you in return, for as long as you allow it.

Because, truth be told, he was nothing if not a selfish, contemptuous creature.

[achilles-rage]

What’s Good for You

summary: when your cat gets stuck up a tree, you have to call 9-1-1, which leads you to meet a very handsome firefighter.

word count: 2.3k

a/n: idk where this came from, i just wrote it in an hour lol. it started with thinking about how humiliating it would be to have to call 911 about your cat stuck up a tree, and this is what happened. enjoy<3

warnings: none, no use of y/n, fem!reader, plus size!reader, race inclusive!reader

“9-1-1, what’s your emergency?” you hear from your phone speaker as you pace around your living room. You’re biting at the skin of your thumb as your eyes dart towards your balcony window, and then you look down at the phone, letting out a quiet sigh.

“Hi. My cat is, um,” you begin, clearing your throat as you feel embarrassment filling your belly and making your cheeks heat up, “stuck in a tree.” you finish, mumbling. 

You feel so stupid right now, but you’re not sure what else to do. You can see the small ball of fur from your spot in the living room, a black speck perched on the branch furthest from your balcony, as if taunting you.

“Sorry, what?” the woman asks. You tilt your head back with a louder sigh, closing your eyes as you gather what’s left of your dignity before you speak up.

“My cat is stuck in a tree.” you tell her again, spacing out the words and letting them hang in the air around you while resisting the urge to hang up the phone and go buy a ladder yourself.

“Did you try to get it down?” she asks after a moment, and you can tell she’s trying to hold back a laugh. She’s most definitely smiling, you can hear it in her voice, and if you had gotten this call, you would be too.

“She’s, like, really high up there.” you mutter, walking out onto your balcony and looking down towards the sidewalk below. Well, at least she hasn’t fallen, you think.

“How high?” 

“Well, I live on the sixth floor, and she ran onto the balcony when I opened the door and jumped into the tree beside it. She’s on the other side of the tree now, right out on the far branch, so I can’t reach her.” you explain. It feels like you’re digging a bigger hole for yourself as you speak. She probably thinks you’re stupid, or at the very least, a bad pet owner. 

“I’m so sorry, this is definitely not an emergency, I shouldn’t have called.” you suddenly add on, ready to hang up the phone and never dial the number ever again.

“No, that’s okay, don’t hang up. It’s better you call us instead of climbing the tree yourself and falling. I’m Maddie. We’re gonna get your cat without someone getting hurt. Now, what’s your name?” Maddie tells you, and you stop your hovering thumb from clicking the end call button.

“Okay, okay.” you mumble, then begin to give her all your information.

You watch your cat, and try to call her a few times, and finally, a firetruck appears below your apartment. You haphazardly put on some shoes before going down to the main floor to meet the firefighters, thanking Maddie and hanging up the phone on the way down.

“Is this your cat?” a man with a captain patch on his uniform asks when you approach them. 

You nod, a sheepish smile on your face as you look up to see your cat, now looking extremely small from her high spot in the tree. It’s now that dread fills your belly. You’ve had your cat for years, and she helped you immensely when you first moved to LA and didn’t have any friends, so now that the initial embarrassment has worn off, all you can feel is fear.

“Yeah, I’m so sorry. I opened my balcony for, like, one second to water my plants, and she-” you try to explain, but the captain just shakes his head with a smile on his face, giving you a comforting pat on the back.

“Don’t worry about it. We answer these kinds of calls more than you’d think. We’ll get ‘em down.” he reassures you. 

You give him a small smile, and stand back with him while he tells one of the other men to control the ladder while another goes up.

You don’t miss how attractive the man going up the ladder is; curly hair and bright blue eyes. He looks strong, and kind, but you try not to think about it as you watch him climb the ladder, getting closer to your cat.

You inhale a sharp breath when the firefighter finally gets up to your cat, hearing the quiet, distinct sound of her hiss as he grabs onto her. Your brows knit together in confusion, however, when you see how easily the man is able to come down the ladder a second later; your cat happily perched in his arm.

You take your cat gratefully once he’s down, a grin on your face as you clutch her to your chest and finally make eye contact with the firefighter who saved her, but not after he takes a brief moment to check you out. He’s pulled in by your curves immediately; your soft belly and your thick thighs, but he also thinks you have the nicest smile he’s ever seen.

“Thank you so much for saving her.” you say as you look into his eyes, feeling yourself getting lost in the prettiest blue you think you’ve ever seen. 

You feel underdressed; wearing a pair of leggings and an oversized long sleeve tee for your day off of work. You were planning on lounging around the house, but apparently, the universe had other plans.

Buck’s smile turns to a smirk when he notices the way your face changes, feeling his chest swell with pride. He’s used to being thanked while doing his job, but it’s not as often he’s thanked by someone as pretty as you.

“No problem. She’s sweet.” he replies, reaching out and rubbing the spot between your cat’s ear, causing her to purr loudly and rub against his hand.

“Yeah? She usually hates men.” you tell him with a shrug. 

A small laugh escapes your lips as you both look down and watch your cat being so friendly with him. You’ve only ever seen her like this with you and your close girlfriends.

“Really?” he asks in slight disbelief, eyes raising back up to meet yours. 

You nod, laughing again. It’s like she knows that he’s there to help, or, she can sense that you’re extremely attracted to him and is turning on her charm. You’ve seen it before; she’s extremely good at suckering you into giving her more treats than she needs.

“Yeah, she hated my ex, even after a year of us dating.” you tell him, feeling heat rise to your cheeks as soon as the words fall from your lips. Why did you just bring up your shitty ex-boyfriend to this handsome, muscular stranger?

“Guess she knows what’s good for you. That’s why he’s your ex.” he reasons with a smirk. You begin to nod, looking down as your cat leans into his hand, but when you look up and see the way his lips are quirked up on one side, you realize what he’s also alluding to. That he’s good for you.

“Yeah, I guess so.” you breathe out, suddenly finding it hard to find any words at all. 

You can’t believe he’s flirting with you right now. You know you should be aware of his team surrounding you, no doubt listening to your conversation and able to see the dazed look on your face, but while looking up at him? Everything fades to the back of your mind except for him.

As he’s about to say something else, one of his teammates cuts him off. He’s glad, because he was about to completely ignore his rule about not dating people he meets on calls.

“Come on, lover boy, we gotta go! There’s a structural fire on third!” 

Both of your eyes widen, and you jump slightly in surprise as you look over at the shorter firefighter climbing into the firetruck. You can see the hint of a blush appear on the man’s face as you look back over to him, and he laughs awkwardly, raising a hand and rubbing the back of his neck.

“I’m sorry, I gotta go. It was nice to meet you!” he tells you, taking a second to drag his eyes over your figure one last time before he’s gone, running to the truck.

“Yeah, you too.” you mumble to yourself, watching from your spot on the sidewalk as they drive away, lights and siren blaring.

You walk back up to your apartment in a slight daze, your cat clutched tightly to your chest until you’re finally inside and the front and balcony doors are closed. You throw yourself down onto the couch, unable to stop thinking about the handsome firefighter. 

You run your hand along your cat's back as she jumps up onto your lap and makes herself comfortable, still feeling butterflies swarming in your belly as you think of his kind smile and broad shoulders.

“You did your best, but I think I’m the one that fucked up here.” you tell your cat, laughing softly to yourself. She had acted as the perfect wingman, and you still couldn’t bring yourself to do anything. You know you should’ve asked for his number, or at the very least, his name, but you were far too afraid. 

Maybe he was just being nice? Or maybe he has a girlfriend at home, and he likes to be flirty on the job. 

Either way, you still can’t stop thinking about him, and you desperately wish you could see him again.

It’s been a few days since Buck had met you, and he can’t help but think about you. He could tell that you were slightly embarrassed about your situation, but it just made you more endearing to him. You had a figure that had his mouth watering, and all your dips and curves on show in your outfit were teasing him as he tried to do his job. 

That’s how he found himself here, in the grocery store closest to your apartment, hoping he’d coincidentally run into you. 

He had to go to a specific store a little further from his house; it being the only one that sells a specific ingredient he needs for dinner tonight, and on his way home, he realized he forgot another ingredient for dinner.

He was a couple blocks from your apartment; it being in between his apartment and the store he needed to go to, so he decided to stop there rather than go to his usual grocery store. 

With his luck, you wouldn’t be there, but he thought he might as well try. It’s a perfect loophole to his work-dating rule.

As he wanders the aisles, not used to the layout of the store, he hears a voice apologize to someone behind him, and his eyes widen. He knows that voice, he heard it the other day, apologizing for calling him to get a cat from a tree.

He grins when he turns and his eyes set on you, now in a sundress, and looking fucking incredible.

“It’s you.” you mutter in disbelief, a smile growing on your face as you look up and see him standing right in front of you, directly in front of what you came to this aisle for.

“It’s you.” he repeats, letting his eyes trail down your figure. Your bare legs have him licking his lips, and when his eyes snap back up to meet yours, you finally tell him your name.

He lets your name roll around in his mouth, feeling the weight of it on his tongue and making him grin. Finally, a name to the pretty face.

“Buck.” he replies, and you repeat it quietly, nodding sheepishly. 

He can tell you want to speak, that the words are on the tip of your tongue, but you seem nervous, so he takes over.

“Do you wanna go out sometime?” 

Your lips part as you look up at him, surprised at his words. You had spent the last few days telling yourself that he probably didn’t want you in an attempt to force yourself to stop thinking about him, and you were beginning to believe it.

“Like, a date?” you ask, your brain now completely empty as you try to keep looking into his eyes. His attention focused solely on you has your heart pounding in your chest, and his gaze has you thinking more about what your hands are doing, and your facial expressions.

“Yes, a date. How about tonight? I can make you dinner.” he clarifies with a quiet chuckle. You’re fucking adorable, and he can’t get enough.

“Okay.” You’re not sure what else to say. It would be embarrassing if you did anything else to show him how excited you actually are on the inside. 

He smiles, nodding as he tilts his head to the side, admiring the way you reach up and fidget with your necklace. When you see that his eyes are trained on your hand, you drop it back down to your side, giving him a sheepish smile.

“I’ll pick you up at 7?” he asks with a smirk, and you nod quickly, trying to hide your surprise and excitement with a small, not-too-excited smile.

“Yeah, that works.” you reply, then take his phone as he hands it over to you. You put in your name and your number with shaky hands, then hand it back, eyes focused on how large his hands are in comparison to yours.The rest of the day after you say goodbye to him goes by quickly, and you wish it wouldn’t. You’re stressed enough for your date tonight, and no outfit you put on seems appropriate. All your worries fade at the end of the night though, when Buck pulls you in for a kiss, mumbling a quick “guess your cat does know what’s good for you” before his lips meet yours passionately.

notes: likes/comments/reblogs would be much appreciated if you liked this<33

click here for my masterlist!

click here to be added to my taglist!

click here to read my request rules!

taglist: @officiallyalbino @wanniiieeee @dreams-encapsulated-in-glamour @buckandeddiesverison @catkight @tatyhend @emilysuperswag @kulteule @korosevren @nyx3028 @sporadicmakerwerewolf @sherlocksbaby2323 @essienoe @p14th0mps0n @celestixldarling @brooke0297 @zelfanswhenshecan @avengersgirllorianna @bingbongsupremacy @nishinoyahhh @alyssanicole01 @outof-spite @supernatural-bangtanboys @x0xchristine @pear-1206 @swanshells @tpwkstiles @lulubelle14 @cannibalhellhound @odetolocksmiths @rafecameronsloverrrrr @charlie-winchester94 @hollandxxmix @evysian @starbyun92939798 @maxinish @uhmidkmuch @theking-mustdie @daeswash @911varietyposts @superlock-in-the-tardis @lilsquatch7898 @hufflepuff-spidey @starboygf @wnbweasley @damndirtylitch @eva-tts5 @alexxavicry @sammiejane22 @boybandbaby (if you interacted with my taglist post and are not on this list, make sure your blog is visible in searches or i can’t tag you!)

[wheneverfeasible]

Wiggly Wednesday?

The brain worms are here again.

I honestly hate Christmas and avoid doing too much for it. However, an idea came to me suddenly and I can’t stop thinking about…

Secret Santa Steddie AU.

In one of Steve’s high school classes senior year, they’re assigned a Secret Santa project. They all put their names in a Santa hat and have to draw one out (returning it for another if it’s their own) and that’s the person they have to secretly give a gift to, either homemade or purchased, but there’s a cap of like…whatever the equivalent of $20 today is back then. Idk.

This is supposed to be a team building type of exercise, something to foster camaraderie, after say maybe a huge argument/fight broke out between Tommy and his group and the Freak, Eddie Munson, as well as some other nerds. Steve is exhausted and doesn’t care for Tommy’s bullshittery anymore, so he didn’t really get involved, though Eddie did throw a few digs his way. Which was hurtful but probably deserved.

Anyways, Steve draws out Eddie’s name.

For the next week or so the last fifteen minutes of class are devoted to questionnaires and such where the students answer questions about themselves directly or they fill in answers to widely asked questions, all used to let the Secret Santas learn about their recipients. Some people take it more seriously than others.

Steve gets to know more about Eddie, who is more blasé about it all, obviously not expecting anyone to give him something good (if they give him anything at all) since he has no friends in the class and most people don’t like him. So Steve, who has never paid Eddie any amount of attention before in the past but has been now and finds himself intrigued, starts observing Eddie outside of class.

Steve knows he could buy Eddie something music related. An easy cop-out gift. But the more he observes Eddie, the more he gets to see the tiny cracks in the Freak persona whenever he spies on him, sees the nerdy but also kind person beneath the leather jacket. And…okay…maybe he starts to develop a sort of crush without realizing that’s what happens.

Maybe he bribes other nerds about Hellfire Club and Eddie and makes certain they don’t squeal about him asking (he doesn’t realize he comes off as threatening, he just thinks he’s being urging), maybe he hears Eddie mention things and then he goes and asks Dustin what they mean, learning it’s from a book series about midgets and some jewelry or whatever, and so an idea forms.

While shuttling the kids about after school, Steve asks Will if he’d be willing to draw something for him, which Steve would pay him for. Will, obviously excited because it’s his first commission job and Steve pays him fairly, agrees.

(Steve may also purchase a patch at the record store they stop at—Will’s request as he wants to buy something for Jonathan—because it reminds him of Eddie, but that doesn’t matter.)

Yadda yadda ya, it’s time to exchange gifts. The teacher has allowed them to drop them off leading up to the Friday before winter vacation to keep the mystery alive.

When Eddie gets his, he’s expecting something more like a prank gift. Instead, he’s gifted a colored drawing (sadly not enough time for a painting) of Eddie dressed as someone named something like Spider or Arrow Gone or whatever, Steve doesn’t really know, but it’s him fighting off a horde of monster things with a flaming eyeball in the background and further back is an erupting volcano.

Steve doesn’t know what the hell is going on, not really able to absorb the massive info dump Dustin gave him, but Will assured Steve that the dude was cool and the battle depicted was awesome and important when he dropped off his old yearbook for model reference. Will’s opinion was enough for Steve of course. He just hoped Eddie liked it, and the patch that he rolled up with the picture.

Eddie is, of course, gobsmacked and trying his hardest not to show it. He scans the classroom to try to figure out who could have given him such an amazing gift, but no one even looks at him. There’s no way he would ever suspect the truth.

Steve ended up getting a can of Farrah Fawcett spray, which everyone laughed at and assumed was a joke gift for a jock, but Steve noticed a small twitch of a smile on Tommy’s face, the only one besides Dustin now who knows his secret.

Later, Eddie’s battle vest is adorned with the patch he received in his gift, a red and black Leviathan cross, but Steve doesn’t know what happened to the drawing. He hopes it didn’t get trashed.

It’s not until later, after everything with Vecna and recovering what was salvageable from the trailer, that he found the picture safely secured behind a glass frame hidden in Eddie’s room. It’s only then that Steve realizes that he might have been a little bit in love with Eddie “the Freak” Munson all this time.

~

Aaaaaaaah sorry this is a little bit of a nebulous ending here. Does this story follow canon and Eddie is dead, never knowing who his Secret Santa is? Or is Eddie recovering from his injuries, fated to recognize Will’s art style and thus learning the truth behind one of his most prized possessions? Who’s to say 🤷

I’m just gonna tag my perma list because I’m lazy. Anyone can be happy to consider this a tag for their own future brain worms tho!

Hostage Hotties:

@derythcorvinus @katyawriteswhump @honeii-puff @scoops-aboy86 @dotdot-wierdlife

@everywherenothere @bumblebeecuttlefishes

[meraki-sunset]

It’s a loop!

Guys i have a wacky theory but, BUT, we know Dirk and Rose are creating 2 different new species to compete with each other on Deltritus, Terezi will judge them and the winner gets to play sburb.

We saw many discarded creatures before the big 3-year hiatus, and when it came back we could see one particular creature, a horroterror looking creature, obviously made by rose.

So rose is most likely mixing abyssal creatures with her own DNA to make the ultimate Sburb player.

Acording to the MS Paint Adventures Wiki

“ Rose lalonde was never very involved with the show but purchased a shirt and re-purposed it to fit her tastes, which is quite fitting considering that the Squiddles are, in part, a subconscious reimagining of the Horroterrors and the other monsters in the Furthest Ring.”

NOW, Andrew Hussie once said jokingly that the session that created the A1 (the dancestors’s) universe was played by 48 Squiddles, but later deconfirming its canonicity in Book 4's commentary.

What if they are using that idea again? It’s normal to create stuff, delete it and suddenly dig it out because it can be repurposed for a new idea.

And with the last update confirming Rose’s species to be aquatic I think we’re headed in that direction.

I think Dirk and Rose will make their 2 species, and rose’s will be horroterror-like creatures. They will win the competition against Dirk’s species (idk probably something related to horse puppet ninjas) and a group of them will play the game.

Another instance of the squidles real form being abyssal creatures is the very first creature Dirk creates, maybe foreshadowing the winner of the competition?

Acording to dirk this will be a 4 player session. Which makes the staement of “a 48 squiddles session created Beforus’s universe” false, but still a posible foreshadowing to a more reduced number of the abisal conterpart of the squiddles being responsible for the creation of said universe.

So this Horroterror/squidle people play and win the game, create a universe, and this universe is where Beforus is born (Universe A1), which then gets scratched and creates Alternia (Universe A2), which creates EarthA, the beta kid's home (Universe B1), which also gets scratched and creates EarthB, the alpha kids’s apocaliptical home gobernated by the Condesce (Universe B2), which creates EarthC’s universe, where all the surviving players now live (Universe C), where the Horroterror/squidle people are created, who then win their game, create a universe, and this universe is where Beforus is born(Universe A1) etc, etc, etc.

There’s only five universes, which feed from each other in a wheel that creates and is created by one another. The Alpha timeline, just like a juju, is a perfect cycle and doesn’t have a beginning or end.

There’s no escape, it’s a loop.

[jayparked]

can u do 52 and 76 with jay🥺🥺 (quite he is yandere if u wanted too?)

WARNINGS: IMPLIED MAFIA AU???? LMAO (idk where tf this came from), yandere jay? (idk if i did it right), possessive jay, he threatens to kill someone, orgasm denial, dom jay, marking, spanking, overstimulation, pet names, dirty talk, rough unprotected sex, fingering (why tf are there so many warnings for a drabble omfg)

WC: 811

"who is he?" jay demands. his jaw is clenched as he waits for your response, eyes wild and frantic.

"i- jay i told you. my father insists i be seen with him-"

jay's hand smacks the wall right by your face. although it makes you jump, you know he doesn't do it in an attempt to scare you. it's just a way for him to let out the emotions he's feeling stirring inside.

"your father," jay snarls and pulls away from you, laughing maniacally while shaking his head until his hair is falling over his eyes, "i bite my tongue, follow every order- excel at every mission assigned to me, and he still doesn't see that i'm the one he should be trusting you with." disbelief is dripping from his tone.

your shoulders relax and you take a step towards him. "jay," you whisper softly, "it's purely transactional, you know that. my father just wants me to be seen with this guy so his competition backs off and finds new territory. i promise he won't get in our way."

"i'll kill him. that'll surely get him out of the way." jay laughs again, the muscles in his back tensing even more.

"i promise what's-his-name will be gone before we know it."

jay pauses, pointer finger pressed firmly to his lips before he turns and points it at you with a sly smile. "you don't know his name."

you're about to reply when you realize it's not a question, but a confident realization. so, you smile softly and wait instead.

you didn't have to wait long. because just moments later jay is pushing your head down into the mattress with your ass up in the air; the perfect position for him to lay possessively harsh smacks against your skin while he rapidly pounds his raw cock deep inside your cunt. your neck and chest are littered with fresh bright red hickeys and bite marks, his desperate way of claiming you.

"'s too much!" you cry out, eyes shut tightly as your toes start to curl with the amount of pleasure building up throughout your body. jay's pace is relentless, his hand smacking the swell of your ass yet again making you yelp. the sting brings a fresh string of tears to your eyes, your hands fisting at the bedsheets around you as some sort of leverage.

"fuuuck, baby. i can feel this tight little pussy gripping me even more. you want to come?"

"y-yes, I- please-"

"hmm...but do you really deserve to?" he leans forward until his face is next to yours, lips ghosting over the skin of your ear. "tell me who you belong to, baby. tell me who's the only person that gets to have you like this."

you scream out his name and jay promptly rewards you with a particularly harsh thrust. finally reaching your limit, your body lets go, the dam inside you bursting while your orgasm ripples throughout your body.

"that's it, baby, oh that's it," jay groans and flips you onto your back. your eyes flutter shut, expecting him to give you a break for a moment before he chases his own high. but, he clearly has other plans.

"oh i'm not done with you." his fingers fill the space his cock just stretched out, pushing your juices back inside at a cruel, slow pace. his fingers beckon you toward him, calling you back to pleasure as he watches your body tremble with overstimulation.

tears pool from the corners of your eyes, your nails digging into his biceps, desperate for him to ground you.

jay grabs your chin and turns your face towards his, grumbling out, "look at me."

immediately your eyes are open and meeting his hooded gaze.

"you know i'll do it right?" he grunts, "i'll kill anyone who thinks they have a chance with you. you're mine. i dont care what i have to do or who i have to hurt to make sure it stays that way." there's a hungry fire behind his eyes, his fingers picking up speed.

"mmm, fuck, oh my god. jay i-" your own moan interrupts you, the sentence long lost in the void of your mind as the painful pleasure he's inflicting upon you blinds all of your senses.

"look at you, squirming under me, all flushed and pretty looking. can't even take a little teasing, can you? i'll make sure no one else wants you with how badly i'm about to ruin you again."

your second orgasm is already quickly approaching, your brain humming the more he talks. he's not even talking to get a response to you, he's more-so speaking his threats and intentions into the universe, willing anyone to dare test them. and you'll be damned if you didn't stand confidently next to him and watch as he burns down the world for you.

♡ for part of my 1k follower celebration ♡ masterlist

[pathologicalreid]

Dude I love ur writing sm!! It’s literally so good and Buried Alive was amazing! If ur down for it (totally no pressure at all) I was wondering if u would eventually write a second part where Spencer helps the reader with the aftermath? Like maybe they struggle with PTSD or severe claustrophobia after that? Idk ur literally amazing enough I’m sure u have great ideas and again, it’s completely up to u, I was just wondering

above ground | S.R.

part one part three

in which spencer helps you cope with the aftermath of your abduction, and you reciprocate

who? spencer reid x fem!BAU!reader

category: hurt/comfort, angst

content warnings: claustrophobia, being buried alive, nightmares/night terrors, ptsd, death, cpr, use of pet names, mentions of drugs, therapy, suffocation

word count: 2.2k

a/n: hello anon! i am absolutely always down for spencer reid hurt/comfort!! thank you so much for asking!!! i've been super overwhelmed with all of the support i've received on buried alive and i'm so so grateful for all of the kind things people have said.

Standing in a dark room, you looked around your surroundings. There was nothing around you that told you where you were. The walls were all blank, the ground was cement, and it was too dark for you to even see the ceiling.

Hesitantly, you reached out your palm, touching the wall just for it to be met with something… damp? You pulled your hand away, and your skin came back dirty. Your stomach churned as you observed the soil that had settled in the creases of your fingerprints. “No,” you breathed, quickly moving to dig at the walls.

You felt it on your elbow next, like the dirt walls were encroaching on you. You turned around to see the dark room was just getting darker, and the walls started to deteriorate. Like an avalanche, the dirt of the walls falls to the ground, covering your feet, “No,” you cried out this time.

Digging at the walls just made your earthly prison bury you faster, so instead, you tried to climb toward the ceiling. You whimpered in defeat as you reached the previously unseen ceiling. The loose earth reached your chest, constricting your breathing. You tilted your head back in an attempt to keep the dirt out of your mouth.

Your face felt cool like a gentle breeze was being blown on it. You choked, but to your surprise, you didn’t choke on dirt.

            There were hands on you, one hand on your shoulder and another on your waist. That didn’t make sense to you, someone hauled you into a sitting position, patting your back in an attempt to help you clear your throat.

            The choking turned to coughing, which then turned to dry heaving off the edge of your bed. Very rarely did anything ever come out, but you kept a trash can there just in case. You blinked as someone reached over and turned on the lamp on your bedside table, the comforting hand remained on your back.

            Desperately, you tried to catch your breath, tilting your head back as you tried to open your airway. “You’re safe. I’m right here, angel,” Spencer whispered from behind you, he leaned his forehead between your shoulder blades and drew hearts on your back with his index finger.

            You took a deep, shuddering breath as you finally filled your lungs, visualizing the air going in and out of your body. Breathing in through your nose and out through your mouth.

            Spencer continued whispering to you, not once did he tell you that your dream wasn’t real because it was real. To you, being buried alive was very real. The suffocation was real, it had happened to you.

            Two months ago, you had been abducted and buried alive by a family, a mother and her two sons. All of whom were in jail awaiting trial. The two agents from the Omaha field office who had left you alone in the funeral home apologized profusely, you had a private meeting with the director of the FBI, and the BAU rallied behind you, it was nice, but none of it made the fear go away.

            The first nightmare came the same night you were back in Virginia, and you had screamed so loud that your neighbors called the police. Spencer handled everything, and when the officers insisted that they needed to speak to you directly, he flashed his FBI credentials, something he really wasn’t supposed to do.

            Your response was to avoid sleeping, at least at night. You stayed awake at night, reading, or watching TV with headphones on, and you slept during the day so that when you opened your eyes, you could feel the sun on your face. The problem was when you needed to go somewhere, you didn’t sleep, or when it rained, you didn’t sleep.

            The exhaustion just made your anxiety worse, and Spencer caught on to it. He sat you down on the couch and held your hands, telling you that he understood that you didn’t want to feel like you were burdening anyone with your nightmares, but he needed you to understand that you were killing yourself at the same time.

            He didn’t do it for everyone, but for you, Spencer took over the role of protector. He found you a therapist in the district that specialized in patients with PTSD and claustrophobia. It was an hour round trip, but Spencer was more than willing to take you the first few times.

            Dr. Montgomery quickly diagnosed you with PTSD and claustrophobia. You hadn’t realized that claustrophobia was something you could be clinically diagnosed with, but the doctor told you that there’s a difference between a fear of enclosed spaces and what you had. He was straightforward, which you liked, and he told you that your claustrophobia was a response to the traumatic event that you had experienced.

            A steady course of treatment that included medication and exposure therapy had slowly been giving you your life back.

            But then there was Spencer.

            Spencer had Morgan help him take the inside doors of your apartment off the hinges so air would flow, and you wouldn’t be afraid of suffocating. He left the ceiling fan in your bedroom on even as the weather cooled so the air never got stale.

            Six weeks ago, you had mentioned offhandedly that you were having a hard time sleeping in total silence, and Spencer had come home later with a white noise machine.

            When you apologized to him for needing the lights on to sleep, he responded by stringing lights around the entire apartment, telling you he read that warm light can help prepare the mind and body for sleep.

            He turned in all of his PTO, even accepting some from David Rossi, who didn’t use his anyway, so he could stay home with you while you were on mandatory medical leave. He tagged along to therapy appointments, to the neurologist, and even to the FBI physician who needed to clear your physical injuries to your ribs before you could return to the field.

            On his nightstand, there was a stack of books all about claustrophobia and loving someone with PTSD.

            Not once through this whole endeavor did you question your relationship with Spencer, he made himself perfectly clear through his actions. He wasn’t going anywhere.

            The FBI physician cleared you two weeks ago, your neurologist faxed Hotch paperwork stating you were without any deficits, and your psychiatrist told you that as long as you felt like you could avoid your triggers, you should be able to go back to work. In fact, Dr. Montgomery thought going back to work could be beneficial.

            You were supposed to go back tomorrow.

            Spencer was now sitting in front of you, and he offered you a small smile as you blinked yourself out of your nightmare-induced stupor and met his eyes, “There’s my girl,” he whispered. For a moment, you focused on his movements, smoothing your hair back with one hand and leaving the other hand resting on your waist. “I love you. You’re safe, you’re at home with me,” he reassured you.

            You narrowed your eyebrows, “It was- I was in the ground again.” Hesitantly, you looked down at your hands, they were perfectly clean, not a speck of dirt to be seen.

            “It was a night terror, angel,” he said, speaking gently to you as he reached over and pulled the strap of your tank top up and over your shoulder from where it had fallen. A night terror, not a nightmare.

            Tears dropped down your face when you closed your eyes. “I couldn’t breathe,” you whimpered. Taking a gasping breath, you looked at Spencer as you tried to draw air into your lungs, “I couldn’t breathe, Spence. I couldn’t breathe.”

            Quickly, Spencer pulled you into his lap and held you, “Shh,” he cooed. “I’ve got you, my love. I’m right here,” he murmured as you set your chin on his shoulder and cried.

            “I suffocated,” you whispered, it was a fact of your life, that you had stopped breathing for a period of time. The doctors estimated you had been down for almost ten minutes.

            His hold on you tightened, “I know,” his voice broke slightly. “I know, baby,” he pressed a gentle kiss to the crown of your head. “What do you need?” He asked, watching you intently as he reached up and used the pads of his thumbs to wipe away your tears.

            You blinked the last of your tears from your eyes before meeting his, “Can we go outside?” You asked him, placing your hands on both of his shoulders.

            Spencer nodded, leaning over to grab his glasses off of his nightstand before standing up and picking you up as he went.

            Instinctively, you yelped, but a laugh escaped your lips. It was a foreign feeling sometimes, but Spencer always knew how to elicit a smile from you. “Put me down,” you said, but your tone was light.

            Once your feet were touching the ground, Spencer looked at you, “I just wanted to see you smile.” He said earnestly.

            Despite yourself, the corner of your mouth quirked up, “Thank you.” You reached over to grab your phone off the charger and slide it into your pocket before you led Spencer out to your apartment’s balcony. He sat down on one of the chairs and pulled you down onto his lap.

            You let him hold you, not moving and just letting your body settle on top of his. The cool autumn air filled your lungs as Spencer held you. You let him hold you because you knew that his fear was just as valid as yours. While you were afraid of confinement because you had been confined, he was afraid of you dying because you had died.

            “I can hear you thinking, honey,” you whispered, leaning your head on his shoulder. “What’s on your mind?” You asked him, taking his hand and intertwining your fingers together.

            He sighed, “I’m worried about you,” he admitted. “I want to tell you not to go back to work yet, even though I know that logically it’s the next step for you,” Spencer said, you watched his honey-colored eyes as they studied your face. “And I know that you need it, you need to return to something dependable.”

            You move your head so you can look him in the eyes better, “But?”

            “But,” he continued, “the BAU isn’t dependable. You have this great routine that we’ve very nearly perfected and I’m so worried about you straying from it. The long hours at work could very well cause you to lose all of the progress you’ve made in the last two months,” he tells you candidly. “What happens when you need to get on an elevator, or when you need to get on the jet, and you can’t? What about when you-“ He cut himself off, swallowing thickly before he said something he couldn’t take back.

            You shifted so you were facing him, shoulder to shoulder, “What is it, Spence?”

            He took a deep breath and cupped your cheek with his hand, “The last case you worked on, you died. I pulled your dead body out of a casket. Fuck, Y/N,” his curse took you aback, he usually strayed from swearing. “I did CPR on you before Morgan took over,” he finished, voice growing hoarse.

            Your lips parted; you couldn’t answer him. You didn’t know how to answer him, but you took his hand and selected his third and index finger before pressing them to the pulse point on your wrist. In response, he sighed and leaned his forehead to yours. You watched his lips move as he silently counted the beats per minute.

            The both of you jumped when your phone went off, and dread filled your stomach when you checked your phone.

            Penelope Garcia: Local case. Round table room in thirty if you’re up for it.

            “If you ask me to stay home, I will,” you told Spencer, sweeping his curls behind his ears. “I won’t hold it against you, I’ll tell Hotch I need more time.”

            Spencer shook his head, “You know I can’t do that. I can’t make that decision for you, and I don’t want you to make the decision for me, you need to choose what you want.”

            You both went, Spencer distracted you for the entire elevator ride up to the BAU, but he was still tense. Even though he insisted he was fine, you knew him better than that.

Spencer followed you up to Hotch’s office and when you told Hotch you wanted to work but you didn’t feel ready to be in the field, your unit chief nodded and told you that you were welcome to stay in the local precinct and work on a geographical profile with Spencer.

            You watched the tension leave Spencer’s body. He tried to tell you that you didn’t need to do that, but you just rolled your eyes and dragged him to the roundtable room.

[mikashisus]

ray idk anything about hsr or genshin so i can’t req for those unfortunately 💔 BUT you summoned me by including bllk in your list HEHEHE can i request smth for nagi?? i don’t really have any specific ideas though…maybe childhood friends 🤔 or anything you want really!!

sorry this is so unspecific i’ve never requested before 😔 but ilyyyy and congrats on 200 that’s amazing!!

— definitely not mira 👹

STITCH ME UP

synopsis: you didn’t consider nagi seishiro a friend at first. but now, you couldn’t imagine your days without him latched to your side.

taglist. @pneumosia @pixelcafe-network @gl4di0lus ( join the taglist here! )

word count. 2.1k ( contents : semi angst, injuries, mc has a short temper )

notes. this has been sitting in my inbox since JULY IM SO SORRY MIRA 😭 but it's finally here!! there'll def be a part 2 bc this is so dogshit and i need to redeem myself with a second part. mira i look up to ur writing sm so u only deserve peak, and i promise u'll get it in part 2 queen 🙏 anyw um the title is in reference to the song “stitch me up” by set it off :))

header art by: @/Liiiiiiimsao ( twt )

The first time you met Nagi Seishiro, you were about to go into your first year of middle school, curled up on the side of the street struggling to wrap a bandage around your left arm. 

It was sunset then, and the world was quiet aside from the loud buzzing of cicadas and the occasional car passing by. 

Nagi had just left a tiny convenience store located on the edge of the street, his phone in his hands as he tapped away at the game he was currently fixated on. Knowing the way back home by heart, he began to walk in that direction, unaware of his surroundings. 

It was only when he tripped over something rather sturdy did he finally forcefully take his eyes off the device in his hand. His grip on his phone tightened. He was determined not to drop it and risk the screen cracking again. 

Not paying any mind to what he just tripped over, he sighed in relief that he did not drop his phone, and patted down his pants. 

“HEY!” 

A loud yell drew him from his stupor. He slowly turned, coming face to face with a scowl. He blinked at you for a few seconds, before he faced you properly and raised a brow. 

“Yes?” 

“Look where you’re going, asshole! You tripped over me!” You snapped, patience wearing thin.

His shoulders slumped. Now that you stood in front of him, you realized just how tall he actually was. He kind of looked like a third year. It made you all the more aggravated. You hated anyone that could look down on you like he was. 

“Oh. Sorry, I guess.” He shrugged, acting as if what just happened was not a big deal. “You have a bad mouth.” 

That was the last straw. Your fists clenched tightly, your nails digging into your skin as your eye twitched. You ignored the pain in your palms and challenged his stoic stare. 

“So what?” You crossed your arms over your chest. “Is that a problem?” 

He shrugged again and looked down at his phone. “I don’t really care.” 

He got ready to leave, when he cast one last glance at you, and his eyes landed on the now bloody bandage that came undone from your arm. The longer he stared, the more he realized he'd seen you before. 

He racked his brain for answers, sifting through each memory to try and remember where he’d seen you. Meanwhile, you were silent, fidgety. You did not enjoy people staring at you. It made you anxious, like they were trying to challenge you in some way. 

This weird boy who you did not understand and you deemed an asshole for not watching where he walked made you feel quite nervous. You knew him from school. He was the boy who was exceptionally good at volleyball. 

You could remember how fascinated you were watching him play during gym class. He had all the talent you could only hope for, and the envy had bubbled up inside you, growing exponentially. Despite your envy, you quickly forgot about him after you no longer had to be in the same proximity as him, and you went about your life without thinking of him again. 

Until now. 

Nagi finally remembered where he had seen you. It was as if a lightbulb had suddenly appeared above his head, and his eyes widened slightly in surprise. You were that one kid that liked to pick a fight with anyone taller than you. 

He first caught a glimpse of you in the nurse’s office when he had tripped outside during gym class and cut open his knee. As he was waiting for the nurse to return with gauze, he heard a commotion outside the office and saw your rather short form tackle a boy twice your size. 

With the strength of a lion tucked inside that small body of yours, you refused to give up the fight until the nurse came back and rushed out into the hall to separate the two of you. 

Nagi remembered watching your face fall in defeat when the nurse said to go to the principal’s office and that your parents would need to be called. 

“You’re that kid.” The words slipped from his mouth before he could stop them. “You like to pick fights with people.” 

As soon as the words left his mouth, he watched you deflate like a balloon right in front of him. Your face fell, and your arms dropped to your sides. He wondered what it was that made you so upset. Was it the reputation you had around the school? 

Just then, he saw the loose bandage on your arm completely come undone. It fell to the ground and pooled around your feet. Time stopped, and he stared in absolute horror at the mess of stitches on your arm. You did nothing to pick up the bandages. In fact, you barely moved. 

He would’ve thought you to be a statue if not for the slight twitching of your fingers. You tapped idly against your thigh, your eyes blank as you stared at the ground. He watched closely as your fingers danced in a certain rhythmic movement, and he soon realized you were tapping in morse code. 

S.O.S. 

He barely had time to register that it was morse code. His focus went back to the ghastly stitches on your arm. They looked as if they were done by someone with no experience whatsoever, but there was clearly an attempt. 

The wound itself did not look any better, and he wondered if you had even cleaned it all. He noticed a few other scars littered on your arm. They were smaller and less noticeable, but his intense stare had caught sight of them easily. 

“How’d you hurt yourself?” He questioned softly, unaware he had asked that out loud instead of inside his head. 

You did not answer. Not right away at least. With a heavy sigh, you collapsed back against the fence you were previously leaning on before he had tripped over you. 

“I didn’t do anything,” you muttered with a tinge of venom in your voice. “It was someone else… But no one ever believes me, so as far as anyone is concerned, I did this to myself.” 

He didn’t know how to respond to that. Instead, he picked up the bandages you dropped, careful not to touch the parts covered in blood, and told you to wait here. 

Where would I even go? You thought. It’s not like I’m going anywhere anytime soon. 

Within a few minutes, he was rushing out of the convenience store and across the street again, a pack of gauze and a water bottle in his hands. His phone was now tucked into his pants pocket. He kneeled down next to you and gently reached for your arm. 

“Did you try to stitch this up yourself?” 

He did not need an answer. He already knew it, though he felt the need to ask anyway. You nodded, so slight he almost missed it. He pulled a pair of scissors from the second plastic bag wrapped around his arm and carefully cut the string. 

With gentle hands, he removed the stitches to the best of his ability and dropped them onto the bandages from earlier. You tried your best not to move the whole time, but he could tell from your scrunched expression that you were in more than a bit of pain. 

He unscrewed the cap of the water bottle. “This might hurt.” He poured water over your wound, causing you to bite back a scream. 

“I don’t know how to do stitches, so…” He trailed off. “So I just got this.” He held up the gauze he bought and carefully wrapped up your arm. 

As soon as he was finished, he threw the gross bandages into the now empty plastic bag and glanced at you. Your brows were still furrowed and your lip was still tugged between your teeth. 

He stood up, taking a look at the sky. The sun was almost fully over the horizon by now, and he was likely late for dinner. He needed to leave now and get back home. As he turned to do just that, he almost missed the slight crack of your voice. 

“Thank you.” 

Were it not for the temporary silence of the cicadas, he would have missed your words entirely, and it would not have paved the way for your future with Nagi Seishiro. 

The next time you saw Nagi was in your second year of middle school. 

A white volleyball came flying out of the gym one day after school, narrowly missing his nose. It fell to the ground with a plop a foot away from him. Rushed footsteps sounded from behind him as he picked it up, and he could hear the yells of the volleyball team from the open doors of the gym. 

A familiar voice entered his ears. “I got it!” 

Moments later, you were rushing out of the gym doors, sweat lining your temple and your collarbone. An exhausted expression rested on your face, and fresh bandages were wrapped around the same arm he tended to a year prior. 

You stopped as you looked up at him, your eyes flashing with recognition as you took in the tall boy standing before you with your volleyball in his hands. You swallowed thickly, fiddling with the hem of your black t-shirt. 

He handed you the volleyball. “Here you go.” 

“…Thanks.” You hesitantly took it from his hands and hugged it to your stomach. You stared at him warily for a moment before turning around to head back into the gym. 

“You play volleyball?” He asked suddenly, shocking you as you were not expecting him to make small talk. 

You turned to face him again and nodded. “Yeah… My dad is a fan, so as soon as I was old enough to play, he signed me up for lessons,” You said. 

There was a pause, and he could tell by the awkward look in your eyes that you were debating on if you should share more or not. In the end, you caved. 

“I’m not that good. So I mainly just play because it’s fun.” You shrugged. "...I should get back to practice.” 

You left before he could get another word out. Later that day, when you were walking home from practice, you saw Nagi again— this time walking out of his house. His eyes met yours, and you both stared at one another in surprise. You lived in the same neighborhood. 

You never went as far as to consider that you and Nagi were friends. Not at first, at least. You never had friends— not after your reputation of being a short-tempered, fight-starter circulated around the school. Even your volleyball team was not a fan of you, despite the fact that you were surprisingly good when it came to teamwork. 

Everyone was inclined to stay away from you. Either out of fear or hatred, you weren’t sure. But as time passed, you came to accept being the loner who always ended up in the principal’s office. 

That was until Nagi offered you a can of soda after your failed attempt of getting the faulty vending machine to work. It was late in the afternoon on a Friday in Spring of your first year of high school. Up until that point, the two of you only interacted at odd times when you just so happened to come across each other in the halls or walking out of your houses. 

No words were ever shared between you, only slight nods of the head and small waves in greeting. Now, though, Nagi was taking a seat next to you on the staircase, placing a can of soda next to your foot. He pulled out his phone, loaded up a game, and handed it to you. 

“Wanna play?” 

You blinked at him in surprise, before nodding. You got past four levels in the game before dying, letting out a groan of frustration. He leaned over your shoulder, watching the screen intently. Occasionally, he’d chime in with a word of advice, or ask if you wanted him to do that level for you. You two sat there on that staircase for what felt like hours, before a staff member came and told you to leave. 

After that day, you would meet on the stairs everyday after your volleyball practices, playing that very same game together and attempting to outdo each other’s high scores. This routine continued, until one day you invited him to the park with you to play there. 

You didn’t consider Nagi Seishiro a friend at first. But now, you couldn’t imagine your days without him latched to your side.

© 2024 mikashisus.

[strnilolover]

Idk if you are wanting to do smut some people are waaay into it others arent so much but like maybe if you are down for smut...

Could you do like a girl humping a stuffed animal matt got her and he catches her and finishes the job???

-🧸

the room was dimly lit, the only light provided coming from the soft glow of your bedside lamp. the giant stuffed bear matt had given you sat propped up against your pillows, its fur soft beneath your fingers. you’d been tossing and turning all night, your mind restless and your body tense with unreleased sexual frustration. without thinking much of it, you rolled over — pulling yourself onto its lap, your legs straddling it as you absentmindedly shifted your weight.

the small movement sent a shiver down your spine, and before you realized it, you were rocking gently, your breaths coming a little quicker. the plush softness pressing against your clothed clit, coupled with the thought that matt had picked it out just for you, made your cheeks heat up — a small whimper escaping past your lips.

your eyes closed, hips picking up the pace, grinding down a little harder against the plush bear. soft moans sounded through the room, growing louder each passing second — thoughts of matt flashed through your head, wishing it was him under you instead of the bear.

you were so lost in your head that you didn’t hear the creak of the bedroom door or the soft sound of matt’s footsteps. it wasn’t until his voice broke through the haze that your eyes snapped open. your hips stopped, head turning toward him.

“enjoying yourself, sweetheart?” he teased, the sound rough — like he was enjoying the little show you were putting on. he leaned against the doorframe, his arms crossed over his chest, watching you with a raised brow, a smirk plastered on his lips.

your face went hot instantly, and you scrambled to try and sit back — but he tusked, leaning off the frame and striding over to the bed where you were. “ah - you stay put baby.” he said, crawling to sit on the bed behind you, reaching out to place his hands on your hips, keeping you in place on top of the bear. “matt! i — i didn’t know you were here,” you stammered.

he hummed, “mhm, i can tell sweetheart-“ he said softly, fingers digging into your flesh. “-keep going, c’mon.” he urged, his hands starting to push and pull on your hips.

you gasped, hands gripping the stuffed animal in front of you as the friction against your clit started again. matt chuckled, leaning his head onto your shoulder as he continued to move your hips. “were you thinkin’ of me baby? wishin’ it was me instead?” he asked, his breath hot against your neck as he leaned down to press light kisses to the skin.

you moaned, nodding your head. “hm - i want words sweetheart.” he groaned, squeezing the flesh of your hips tighter as he sped up the movements. “y-yeah was.. mm - thinking of you..how you got t-this f’me.” you say breathlessly, head tipping back slightly as the pressure started to grow in your lower abdomen.

“y’like that i got it for you baby?” he teased, his kisses turning into nips against your flesh. “l-love it!” you squeaked, another moan slipping from you.

the combination of matt speaking to you and how he was moving you against something he got for you, made your stomach tighten more.

“matt.. gonna-“ your words cut of by a whine as he moved your hips more sharply against the soft fur. “mhm, i know. gonna cum for me baby? finish allll over the plush i got f’you?” he rasped, pulling away from your neck to rest his head on your shoulder once more.

you nodded, now moving your hips on your own accord with his hands still guiding you. the pleasure became too much as you ground down more, the knot snapping like a rubber band. you shuttered, moaning matt’s name loudly as you came all over the stuffed bear under you.

matt’s eyes never tore away from you, watching you come undone in front of him. “fuuck - good job baby, so good.” he praised, slowing your hips to a slow rhythm as he helped you ride out your high. once you were done, he let your hips go — your body leaning back against his chest as he slithered his arms around your middle.

your body went slack, melting into his embrace as you started to grow tired — the earlier relentless fading into exhaustion. you let out a long sigh, a small smile tugging at your lips at how content you felt.

matt smiled down at you, leaning forward to press a kiss to your temple. “maybe i’ll have to get you more at some point..” he mumbled out. and that was the last thing your heard before drifting off to sleep.

[ddostoyevskyy]

How To Train Your Dragon

Zhongli

note: idk, this just came to me at 4am.

Zhongli in his prime were unstoppable and in order to calm his system down, he always find his way through your shared home, on your shared bed, finding you sleeping peacefully under his silk sheets — he just wanted to kiss you, except — the Geo Archon doesn’t know how to kiss. So, with the help of your pace, you teach the raging dragon in your arms to kiss you.

warnings: heavily suggestive but nothing to explicit, making-out, just teaching Morax how to kiss — on his almost Archon form 😶, blood mentions but nothing too murderous, Zhongli has fangs, biting/marking

1.7K words

MASTERLIST

Part 2.

It was the way how Zhongli’s heavy breathing cut through the silence of the dawning night where the moon is illuminating on his golden eyes — glowing and trembling as it gazes on a sleeping form on his bed under his silk sheets. The sight of you, his lover sleeping peacefully is only making him shakened up more as his sharpened claws reached for the blanket, tugging gently to test waters — and you softly stirs awake at the sound of something panting and growling on the foot of the bed.

Your blurry eyes had taken upon the sight of a raging dragon, golden eyes staring intently on your form and his usual dark hair is longer and disheveled; the sight of your lover’s true form is something you are not quite used to wake up to. You were quite taken back at his form, yet you gently sit up, still drowsy as you reached up to him — the smell of musk mix with mountains takes upon on his scent as he crawl towards your embrace, immediately burying his face on the crook of your neck.

“‘Li?” You mutter his name and he lowly growl and you shuddered at the vibration that sends your body shocks.

You don’t know what’s gotten into him as he used his body weight to push you down on the bed, your back gently making contact with the soft sheets as he inhaled on your scent, muttering something incoherent before his large hand made contact on your thigh, the coldness of his hand made you gasp as you tried to push his face away from your neck to look at him, yet he stilled, pushing his face more deeper in your neck as his hand travels upward under your night gown, his claws slightly prodding on your skin and you sighed in sensation.

“What’s wrong?” You asked him, but he remained silent. His hand now lays on your waist as his other arm travels behind your back to the back of your neck to pull you close. You could feel his chest flushed on yours slowly calming down until his breathing became steady in rhythm — your breathing is now shallow when you feel his fingers caressing the skin on your waist and his cold lips touches the skin of your neck. It made you shivered.

“H-Hey now.” Your voice cracked and you heard him mumble your name lowly as he finally raise his head, his eyes still glowing as he stares intently, yet again, his honeyed eyes oozing with an intimidating gaze yet they stared lovingly in your face, scanning until it landed on your lips and you stared at him in bewilderedment.

This man, your lover, is not really good at kissing.

He mumbled something you didn’t quite captured with your ears as he leaned in, lips crashing on yours as he peck around your lips and you let out a breathy chuckle. His actions on your lips were contrast on how his hands work on your body — he’s squeezing, caressing and digging the skin of your waist as you relishes on the feeling of his cold hands. Yet, his lips are still moving uneven on you and you lowly laugh.

“What’s the matter?” He finally spoke up as you put an arm around your eyes, grinning. “Darling?”

“You..... that’s not how to properly kiss someone,” You finally let out between laughter and his eyebrows furrowed as he remove your arm that blocked your eyes. He stared at you. “I don’t have any idea about kissing too. But, I have a knowledge enough to tell you, it wasn’t the way to kiss someone, My Lord.”

His lips purse at the endearment as you cupped his face between your hands, caressing his skin as you noticed the rough patch of a reptile skin besides his cheeks. This is not the first time you’ve seen him in his true form, but seeing his golden eyes glow as he stared at you gently.

“Open your mouth.” You instructed as he stares at you like a lost child as he obliged, parting his lips before you pull him close to you, wrapping your arms around his neck as your lips crashed to each other, catching his upper lips between yours — he take a sharp breath as he follow your lead, a slow set pace as your lips finally move in sync and you inhale when you felt his cold hands travel on your skin again.  He hummed in your mouth and you sighed when his teeth scrape on your bottom lip — you forgot how sharp his canines in his true form.

“Z-Zhongli — wait.” You mumbled on his lips as you put a finger on his chin to stop him and he grumble. You appreciate the passionate hunger written on his handsome face, honeyed eyes burning with passion and swollen lips parting in a panting mess. You can’t believe that this man is a God — only to crumble on your embrace and begging for your touch as he looked majestic with his seductive gaze he’s sending you.

He dives back on your lips, now caressing the skin behind your thighs and you sigh at the feeling of his cold hands contrasting on your warm skin. He’s holding you closely, chest pressed together as he sighs in your mouth — before you decided to use your tounge too. He unexpectedly let out a melodic sound of pleasure, feeling the warm muscle envelop the insides of his mouth as you felt his canines graze haphazardly on your tounge and the grip you had on his dark hair tightened at the electric sensation that runs in your body as he felt the goosebumps appear on your skin.

He follows your pace expertly, moving his tounge and intertwining it with yours as you let out a moan when he slowly and surely, started to learn how to properly make out with you without feeling any pain — his lips are now moving at a desperate pace while, you, on the other hand is now hardly keeping up with his pace — he learned pretty quickly — all in a while he’s been touching you until everything stopped.

You open your eyes in instant when you felt the warm of his mouth disappeared, but it was followed by your panting when he lowered his head to peck at your cheek, down to your lips, to the side of your jaw as his tounge travelled there down to your neck. You could feel his warm, heavy breath on your skin, the sudden nervousness that surrounds you were unavoidable as he licks a certain spot, before you could feel his sharp teeth prodding on your skin and you gasp.

“Hah — Z-Zhongli, wait!” You told the dragon that was clinging into you and all while, he stopped at your command, yet you didn’t totally push him away.

“Ah — I.....”

“I apologize, darling,” He sighed, burying his face on your neck. “I went overboard.”

You scrunched your nose — he’s too cute. How can you resist the handsome dragon laying in your arms?

“N-No. What’s the matter to you tonight? Did something happen?” You asked and he shook his head on your neck, feeling his head move side by side as he embrace you.

“Nothing, darling. I’m just too embarrassed to ask you to teach me how to kiss.” You externally squeal at his confession, biting back a laugh that will surely embarrass the Geo Archon more.

“Well, I guess, I’ve trained my dragon well after all, right?” You replied and he hummed, the low sound vibrating on your chest and you sighed in contentment, caressing his dark hair before you halted when you felt his tounge on your skin again. You gulped, trying hard to think of a way to distract him when you felt his sharp teeth grazing on your skin.

“Z-Zhongli, baby.” You whispered enough to let him hear your hesitations and he assured you silently, intertwining your hands as he set yours besides your head, your other arm still circled around his neck and the back of his head. He started with a peck on your shoulder blades, before his lips wandered and stop just right on the crook of your neck as his breathing got intenser.

He lightly graze his tounge on a spot and you whimpered, eyes closing at the feeling until he started to suck on a certain spot that had your mind swirling with the heavy sensation — because it’s been a while to have him in your arms again. He didn’t know how to kiss, so he would always makes his lips contact with either a kiss on your knuckles or on top of your head — and as gentleman as he is, he never forgets to peck on your forehead.

But, tonight, he begs to differ as his hands roams in your body, his whole weight pressing on you adding a hazy feeling tingling on your body — because you can feel all of him; from his mouth, his broad shoulders, his chiseled chest, and the bulge that was forming on his pants — pressed just right on your torso as he sucks and licks on your neck.

He could smell your arousal, the sheen sweat forming on your body that added to the taste of your skin makes him go feral when he finally felt you relaxed — he sinks his teeth on your flesh just enough to break the skin and you gasped at the sensation; it was so unexpected that you don’t have time to complain when he’s all and lapping on the blood that was seeping on the mark he made that you were sure is hard to cover.

He raised his head to stare at you, admiring his work of art on your neck as his fingers graze on the spot and you whimpered when he lightly pressed his teeth mark. He seems satisfied, yet when his eyes landed on your swollen lips, he turned lost yet again.

It seems like you have to train your dragon into another level of pleasure again.

Disclaimer; This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

All Rights Reserved 2022 © ddostoyevskyy. Do not repost without permission or plagiarized.

[nakahras]

᯽ mr. loverman • chuuya nakahara

synopsis • you have a terrible, horrible, no good very bad day and to top it off you can’t even go to the one person you’d want to since he’s out of town. or, at least, you thought so.

warnings • intentional lower case, reader has a nightmare of a roommate, cursing, the use of the pet names doll/baby, chuuya being the gossip he is, fem!reader, nsfw, oral (m -> f), nipple/breast play, some nasty shit is said, masturbation (m), fingering, teasing, slight overstim, idk this is some depraved shit honestly

wc • 4k

a/n • i started this when i was having the worst day ever and just wanted boyfriend chuuya :( i cannot be blamed for the smut idk who wrote that but it wasn’t me

you want to scream — to be more accurate you want to off someone, yourself or someone else, either would suffice. unfortunately you stick to screaming, it would cause you less issues. you lift one of the many pillows on your bed and promptly screech your throat raw into the expensive pillow. your head feels as though it’s going to explode just thinking about how your day has gone.

you thought february 29th was supposed to be a lucky day? an extra day in a leap year meant luck, didn’t it? well in your case it didn’t feel very lucky. not at all, actually. in fact you were sure today was a curse. you woke up late, so, your day was off to a bad start from the beginning. your roommate forgot to pay the electricity bill, again, so you had to take a cold shower and couldn’t even make coffee. you stopped at your favorite coffee shop and not only did they get your order wrong but someone bumped into you on your rush to the train station. there was coffee everywhere. every. where.

thanks to the coffee spill you missed your morning train. which normally wouldn’t be a huge deal, except for the fact that you had an early staff meeting. you try to text your coworker that you were running behind but because your roommate forgot to put the payment in for electricity, your phone didn’t charge and died. you don’t even get your message out. you wanted to cry. luckily the train was early and you made it to work just in time.

you thought maybe you had seen the worst of it. your karma surely couldn’t be that bad, right?

wrong.

you work as a nurse in cardiology. you had not one, not two, but three people code on you. it always came in threes. three emergency services calls. three rounds of performing cpr. three separate incident reports to type out. you were exhausted by the end of the day.

you almost cried again when your favorite coworker offers you a ride home. he was a saint in disguise and you told him so. a literal gift from heaven. you promise him a homemade lunch in return and he waves you off as you climb out of the car. when you get to your apartment you’re pleasantly surprised to see your roommate cleaning. a rare occasion.

the electricity is back on too so you take the opportunity to enjoy a relaxing bath and some wine. you thought, once again, maybe the worst was over.

wrong. again.

when you got out of the bathroom you thought you vaguely heard chatter but chalked it up to a show your roommate was probably watching. you change into a t-shirt, skipping a bra because it’s just you and your roommate at home, and a pair of sleeping shorts that barely cover anything. when you walk out with your headphones on you’re stunned to see 3 strangers in your home.

your roommate looks at you like you’re the crazy one. like she isn’t the one that didn’t warn you about the company. you double check then triple check your phone. nope, not a single text for warning. you awkwardly wave and consider digging a hole and living in it when she introduces one of the strangers as her new boyfriend. in that moment you want to perish, cease from existing altogether.

you don’t even get a chance to grab your food before you’re making a half assed excuse to step away and run back to your room.

you’re now laying on your bed, letting tears of frustration stream down your face. you can’t even call the one person who would make it all better. your boyfriend was away for a business trip. you didn’t want to accidentally interrupt something important. you knew he would drop everything

your boyfriend also has this freaky 6th sense, like he can always tell when you’re thinking of him. so, you’re not surprised when your phone begins to ring and you’re met with his contact photo. you let out a sigh and pick up.

“chuuya…” you breathe out. you sound terrible, you know you do, but you can’t bring yourself to even care to mask it.

you can hear vague rustling in the background before chuuya is speaking. “you don’t sound okay. what’s wrong?”

you start crying again. how does he do that? he always seems to know when you need him most. right now was definitely one of those times. you wish he could actually be there. you missed his warm and safe embrace.

“i’m not. i had a really shitty day and i feel so ridiculous about how much it’s getting to me…” you let out a humorless laugh at how pathetic you feel saying that out loud. you’re throwing a fit over a bad day. who does that?

and all you wanted was for chuuya to be here. but you couldn’t tell him that, if you did he would dismiss everything and come running. then you would feel bad about coming between him and his work. you let out a frustrated sigh.

you can practically hear the frown on chuuya’s face when he speaks. “you wanna tell me ‘bout it? i’ll listen. or is there something else i can do to make you feel better?”

you don’t deserve him. you think to yourself.

moments like this make you really think about how chuuya deserves way more than what you can give him. you go days at a time without talking to him because of school and work. you lock yourself in your room and ignore the world outside just to keep up with your school work. you know it’s unfair to chuuya even if you always do give him a warning. he is always incredibly understanding over it that you almost cry out of guilt. he even brings you meals and hydration packs to make sure you’re taking care of yourself.

things like this remind you just how selfish you can be when it comes to him. all you want is him. but are you allowed to even feel like that when he’s away for work — a good reason by the way, much better than your own. he never complains when you need space so why would you? to you the answer is simple, you won’t complain.

of course, chuuya sees it differently. he knows that if you didn’t have to cut everyone off to focus on your work you wouldn’t. but your mind doesn’t work like that and he gets it. does he miss you when you have to take a break from reality? absolutely, but he doesn’t complain because he already knows how bad you feel about it.

so instead of saying ‘yes, i need you’ like you want to you let out another sigh. “how much work do you have left today?”

”funny you ask me that, doll. i finished everything early today.” chuuya chuckles when he can practically see the way you perk up.

you still hesitate when you ask, “does that mean you're coming back to yokohama early?”

the port mafia executive smiles widely at just how adorable he finds you. the way you still get so shy to ask him things that should be a given. chuuya adores you and couldn’t imagine spending his now free time with anyone other than you. so, of course he took the opportunity to get back as soon as possible. apparently his timing was impeccable because from the sound of it, you could use a break.

chuuya was already on his way to your apartment. it was supposed to be a surprise, but he figures since he’s already almost there…

“why don’t you pack a bag and come down to find out for yourself, hm?” he lets out another chuckle when your excited squeal finds it’s way onto his side of the phone.

you quickly grab your small duffle and stuff some essentials into it. you have a drawer at chuuyas jam packed with clothing already and a whole second set of your favorite hygiene products so you only need to grab a few things. you pack your laptop and a couple articles of your comfier clothing. you change quickly, stuffing your legs into some jeans and actually putting on a bra underneath your t-shirt.

you grab your phone where chuuya is still on the line. “okay, all packed. should i come down now?”

“yeah, your surprise should be there any minute.” chuuya pulls up to the front of your building as he says those words and can’t help the pleased smile on his face.

you chuckle and shake your head. “my surprise, huh wonder what it could-“ you’re cut off when your roommate calls out your name questioningly in your rush to get out of the door. your eye twitches when you’re reminded of the randoms in your apartment but put on a smile anyways. “it was so nice meeting you guys, sorry i can’t stay but my boyfriend came back into town early so i’m gonna go see him. bye.”

you don’t miss the way your roommate perks up at the mention of chuuya. “oh? chuuya is here? you should invite him up. i would love to see him.

“i’m sure you would. he’s tired though. maybe some other time.” you grit your teeth and smile sweetly. you don’t wait for a response as you practically run out the door and lock it behind you.

you huff and then remember chuuya is on the other side of the phone still, you grimace realizing he heard the whole thing. “sorry…”

“didn’t know i was so tired.” chuuya laughs as you let out a groan.

you catch the elevator before the doors close from someone just getting out and stab at the button to the ground floor. “i’m tired of their shit, therefore, you’re tired too. plus did you really wanna sit through another awkward meal where my roommate dotes on you. god and her new boyfriend was there. can you imagine how uncomfortable that would be? gross. i don’t wanna think about it anymore.”

“someone’s actually insane enough to agree to date her? condolences to whoever that guy is.” chuuya’s voice drips with genuine surprise.

you let out a giggle at how scandalized your boyfriend sounds. “you’re telling me she doesn’t pique your interest, sunshine?”

he chuckles and you can practically hear the eye roll from his end of the line. “nah, my girl is the only one for me.”

you’re walking out of the elevator when you stop in your tracks for a moment. it doesn’t matter how long you’ve been with him, when chuuya calls you his girl it makes you melt. your brain malfunctions a little and it makes you really think about how you truly are all his.

without hesitation you breathe out an “i love you.” before moving forward to the entrance of your building.

“i love you.” it’s instantaneous, his answer.

chuuya never has to think twice about telling you how much he adores you. he is immutably in love with you. there was no doubt in his mind and, even though it took some time for you to believe so, there was no longer a single doubt in your mind either. chuuya had made certain that you would never question it.

you make it to the entrance. the moment you open the door you’re welcomed with the sight of chuuya leaning against his car. his phone is still up to his ear as his grin widens upon seeing you.

you drop your hand and phone from your ear and hang up before rushing over to the ginger. you drop your duffle bag near the car before jumping into the executive's arms. he was anticipating the impact and caught you with ease.

the bicolor eyed man holds you tightly and you bury your face in his neck. his soft hair tickles your face but you couldn’t care less. you take in a deep breath and his scent envelopes you and all the tension your body had been previously holding completely dissipates.

your voice is muffled when you say, “i missed you, so much.”

“i missed you too.”

you both stand there in each other’s arms for a few more seconds before chuuya sets you down. he grabs your bag from the ground and opens the passenger door for you. you thank him and climb in. your boyfriend wastes no time placing your bag on the backseat and slipping into the drivers side.

the ginger takes you to your favorite take out restaurant and you order all of your favorites. when you get back to his penthouse you set up his couch into a lounge bed and get ready to watch one of your favorite movies. while you’re doing that, chuuya is pouring you both a glass of wine.

you’re happily munching on your food and sipping on your wine when chuuya hits you with. “you should move in.”

your head snaps back to look up at him, your brow is furrowed and you give him a confused look. “we haven’t talked about it before. are you being serious right now?”

“completely.” he doesn’t even look at you, his tone so nonchalant and you’re just gaping at him.

you set your drink and food aside and shift off of chuuya. he’s about to complain until you sit yourself on his lap straddling his waist and wrapping your arms around his shoulders. you pluck the remote from his hand and turn over your shoulder to pause the movie. you wanted to make sure you had his undivided attention (you always did).

you study him for a moment before responding. “are you sure?”

“yes. i have 2 extra rooms that aren’t being used. we don’t have to share a bedroom yet and you would still have a separate office space. c’mon, doll, let me get you out of that nightmare of an apartment.” chuuya reaches up and tucks a stray hair behind your ear.

he did that on purpose. you know he did. the way he caresses your face with his always surprisingly soft fingers is unfair. he knows how distracting it is to you.

you try to process what he says but it takes you quite a bit longer than it should have but it doesn’t take you long to make your decision. “…okay.” it comes out whispered.

“okay?” chuuya asks you incredulously like he was actually expecting you to reject his offer.

you nod your head with a blush creeping up your face. “yes, okay. i’ll move in with you.

chuuya can’t help himself and presses his hands across your back to bring you into him. his lips crash into yours and you share a moment of pure bliss. his lips meld perfectly with yours. he tastes of peppermint and grapes. the taste increases as his tongue slips past your lips and tangles with your own. you let out a short gasp at the sudden intrusion but melt into him anyways.

you both stay like that for a few minutes. your hips begin to stutter on their own. your breaths and gasps and quiet moans fill the atmosphere. chuuya’s hands have found their way under your shirt and he’s already playing with the band of your bra. his fingers expertly undo the clasps and hands glide across your now naked back.

your lungs scream at you. you want more of him but you have to oblige your body’s need for air. you part from his lips and rest your forehead on his own, breath mixing together as you both pant for air.

chuuya only gives you a moment, hips still moving into his when he grabs at your hair and gently pulls your head back so he can trail kisses down your neck. it takes all of his self control to not bite your soft skin. per your request, he’s always careful not to leave marks on areas that would be visible in your scrubs. this is the one instance where his need to please you outweighs his need to be possessive.

if chuuya had it his way, he would make everyone aware of just how much you are his. for your sake, though, he reigns in that side of himself. he supposes he’ll just have to show the world you’re his in different ways. like in the form of a key, and in the form of a ring he has stashed away in the far corners of his closet, and maybe even some day in the form of his child.

chuuya’s brought back to reality by the sound of your voice. he hadn’t even realized that your positions had switched. you were panting underneath him, face flushed, and — fuck — you look so gorgeous like this. you were always beautiful. but having you like this, something only he got to see always made something primal in him stir.

you huff and grab ahold of the ginger’s face. his mind was obviously elsewhere. “chuuya. listen to me. what are you doing?”

chuuya’s eyes, which had glazed over, somewhat clear from the fog. he smiles at you as he lowers himself further down your body and lifts your shirt to press kisses to your stomach. you let out a whine, ready to complain about him still not listening.

“relax, baby, i’m helping you relieve some stress.” chuuya draws soothing circles into your skin then, without waiting for your response his hands travel to your pajama pants to untie them.

your hand shoots out to stop him, still panting and slightly dazed. “what about you?”

“don’t worry about me. i can take care of myself while i take care of you.” he says it so unabashedly you can’t bring yourself to question him.

then your head starts spinning. the thought of him touching himself while taking care of you is so incredibly hot it ignites your entire body on fire. there’s no longer a single thought in your head that doesn’t involve chuuya’s mouth, his lips, his tongue, his hands, his fingers. you need it all.

you reach out and card your fingers through the gravity manipulator’s silky hair. he hums at the action and takes it as his sign to continue. his fingers work quickly, undoing the ribbon and hooking around both the elastic of the pants and your panties. his movements are so fluid and fast you can hardly keep up. your bottom half is completely bare but he’s not satisfied there.

his hand slides up underneath your shirt and through the valley of your breasts. he watches intently as your shirt slowly rides up to expose your breasts. his fingers ghost over each mound briefly before they’re sliding down your body again and gripping at your thighs, holding them open.

“so damn pretty.” chuuya hums and his eyes flit up to gaze up at your flushed face. “do me a favor, baby? play with those perfect tits of yours for me, won’t you?”

his voice is sickly sweet and smooth like honey. you’re so enamored by the sound that you almost don’t hear him. his expectant look is what starts up the wheels in your head to turn. his words process and your hands move on their own accord. you start kneading at your chest while maintaining eye contact with his bicolored eyes.

chuuya groans. “god, doll. look at you. playin’ with yourself like that. ‘s sexy as hell- you’re sexy as hell.”

“chuuya…” you let out a whine. your patience thinning by the second as you wiggle your ass for any chance at friction.

your boyfriend lets out a chuckle. “okay, okay. think i’ve made you wait long enough, hm? deserve a reward for all the hell you were put through today.”

chuuya, once again, doesn’t give you a chance to answer before he’s dipping his head down to get face to face with your already slick cunt. his tongue is quick as he runs it up and down your folds. you feel him sigh in relief against you, like this is the first meal he’s had in days. it might as well be with how much he craved you when he was away.

although, he was focused on you — focused on making this all about you — chuuya knows if he doesn’t make good on his word of relieving himself you’ll never let him hear the end of it. who is he to deny himself the added pleasure when you’re demanding it of him. so, chuuya lets go of one of your thighs to fumble with his belt and free his strained cock from its confines.

you vaguely watch his arm move. your attention wavering as his lips wrap around your clit and he sucks. your back arches and hands squeeze at your breasts in surprise as you moan out his name.

chuuya smirks, absolutely pleased by the reactions he elicits from you. his hand that freed his cock moves to collect some of the wetness that’s steadily dripping out of you. once he’s satisfied with the amount he lowers his hand and uses your slick as lube to touch himself.

you try to comment on it but your mouth isn’t working right. the only thing that comes out is, “chuuya~ so good. ‘s so- fuck- so good…”

chuuya groans, clearly enjoying this as much as you are. his hips start to stutter as he lets go of your other thigh to gather more of your juices in that hand. his mouth it still making expert work of your clit while his fingers are closing in on your entrance. he teases you a little, circling the hole a few times before slowly pushing in two of his lithe fingers.

your head is thrown back as a slew of cursed moans falls from your lips. this time chuuya lets out a moan of his own when he feels your walls fluttering around his fingers already. his hand being used on himself starts pumping faster, his cheeks hollowing more frequently and fingers start sliding in and out of you at an alarming rate.

he’s close, you realize. he’s close and wants you to cum before him. you aid him in his endeavor by rolling your nipples between your fingers then squeezing slightly to pinch them. the added sensation makes your whole body twitch.

“f-fuck, fuck, fuck. chuuya, gonna cum~ ‘s too much. gonna-“ a euphoric wave crashes over you and you let out an embarrassing squeal like moan as your vision spots and ears rings.

chuuya’s slurps while lapping up at your orgasm are insanely lewd and the noise alone is enough to send him crashing as well. what really does him in is the sight before him. your eyes rolling back into your head and mouth hanging open. he moans deeply, from his chest, and spills into his hand. he pumps himself a few more times until he’s twitching from the overstimulation.

chuuya laps up every last drop your cunt has to offer while you come down from that amazing high and catch your breath. when he’s happy with his clean up he rests his cheek on your thigh. you prop yourself up to look at him. he looks so angelic, hair slightly tousled from your fingers running through it earlier, face glistening from your juices and face flushed. chuuya smiles at you then turns his head to leave sweet kisses on your inner thigh.

you let your head hang back before groaning. he was going to be the death of you. you knew he wasn’t finished with you by a long shot.

“we have plenty of time to do this when i move in.” you whine.

chuuya lets out an elated laugh. “so, when are we moving you in? tomorrow?”

you let out a genuinely amused laugh, shaking your head at his eagerness.

[sundrop-writes]

if ur taking requests then how about female reader being a bau member and is receiving unwanted attention from the local cops but she cant pick up on social cues very well so it’s extra stressful for her to naviagte

Then enter protective and somewhat jealous jj that tries to protect her and shows her what true love and respect is with soft softdom!jj

I really like this, but I like the idea of it more as a short then a full fic, so... here we go.

JJ Being Protective of You - (Jennifer Jareau x Fem!Autistic!Reader)

Warnings: some harassing behaviour from a random male cop towards the reader; the man uses condescending pet names toward the reader; JJ goes full boss mode; use of the term L/N (as in 'Last Name') to refer to the reader; she reader uses she/her pronouns; the reader experiences a small accidental injury; pre-established relationship. Idk what else. Not proofread.

Paperwork. This is where you thrived. Much like Spencer, you loved a good paper trail.

You were currently in the back room of the police station, going through their old case files, looking at every case from the last forty years that had yet to be digitised. You were looking for previous murders that matched the signature of the killer the team was currently after, since the working theory was that the UnSub had 'taken on' the work of his father or another older figure in his life.

So you had to dig through all the files of unsolved murders and see if you could find a pattern stemming back - to see if you could find more killings that this father might have committed.

It was stuffy and dusty in the file room, but you were finding it to be the kind of work that you did best - your brain churning on all cylinders as you looked through the many files for all the markers in the killings that would have aligned with his killer. You put some files aside and closed the lid on a box, and then moved to a new stack, going to take down a box from 1973 - it was rather heavy and awkward to lift, but you could manage it.

"Oh, little lady, let me help you with that,"

Suddenly, someone appeared beside you, as if out of nowhere, and a second pair of hands began tugging on the box.

"I got it." You grunted out, tugging the box back in your direction, trying to get a better grip on it.

"Trust me, doll, someone like you shouldn't be lugging this crap around on your own." The man's voice argued, becoming slightly strained - angry?

Was he frustrated because it was too heavy for him to lift? Did he feel like he had to help because you looked weak and he was frustrated because of the social obligation?

"It's fine." You assured him, tugging on it again. But - he still wouldn't let go. "I'm stronger than I look, trust me."

That was something that Emily and Derek often joked about. You had used a shovel to break a double welded chain in order to get into a basement when a child was in danger. The police had been arguing about getting a warrant and talking about how they would need heavy duty bolt cutters to get through the chain away, and you were down there in minutes - and from then on, the team all agreed not to mess with you. Especially not in an emergency.

"Sweetie, just let go of it-"

His grip slipped off the box, and it went flying in the opposite direction then, and one of the sharp corners smacked you on the head - a piercing pain went through your whole forehead and and papers came flying out of the box, spilling across the floor and fluttering everywhere.

"Oh my god, ow!" You exclaimed loudly, stepping backward, raising a hand to your forehead toward the throbbing pain. You were alarmed when you felt wetness, and you quickly drew your fingers back and saw blood.

"Oh, goodness. I'm sorry, darlin'." The man appeared in front of you, and soon, completely unprompted, he put his hands on both of your cheeks, trying to lift your head to better inspect the cut. "See, that's why you shouldn't-"

"Don't touch me!" You screamed, reaching up inside of his forearms to shove his hands off you. Your skin was crawling with a terrible, icky itch where his hands had been touching you.

He became slack-jawed with shock at this.

"There's no need to shout." He chuckled. "Calm down."

"Ugh, no!" You shouted back.

You were suddenly feeling terribly trapped in the small, stuffy, dusty room, and though you knew that the papers needed to be cleaned up and you needed to finish your fishing expedition for the trail of murders - you had to leave. You needed air.

You needed JJ.

You shoved past the man and your feet carried you as fast as you could go, frantically looking for that head of blonde hair.

"Listen, babydoll, just calm down-"

"Woah, woah, her name is not babydoll."

That voice. Your hero.

You blinked past a haze if tears you hadn't even noticed was forming, and saw the pale blue shirt and blonde hair that you knew was her - you ran to stand behind her, grabbing her hand tightly, which she gripped back, grounding you, letting you know that she was right there.

"I'm not sure what kind of slack operation you people run around here, but we are professionals. You are going to refer to her by her full title, Special Agent L/N - or you won't talk to her at all. You won't even look at her. Do you understand me?" JJ barked at him.

The pure authority dripping from her voice made you feel so utterly safe.

"Listen, m'am, I'm not sure-"

"It's not 'm'am', it's Agent." JJ corrected him, now straining through her teeth, absolutely seething. "We are here representing the FBI, trying to catch a very dangerous man to help keep your town safe. We're not just little secretaries skittering around to get you your coffee and clean up after you. Just because we're women, we're not here to wipe your ass!"

You heard a chuckle from behind you, and you thought it was Emily's voice. This was followed by a low whistle - probably Derek.

"Is that clear?" JJ finished off, daring the man to talk back to her.

The man sighed and turned around to leave, finally defeated. This is when JJ turned to you.

"Are you okay?" She asked, her voice much softer now. "Oh my god, what happened to your head?"

"There was... a box..." You mumbled quietly, still feeling shaken up.

"He hit you with a box?" JJ snapped, looking back in the direction he had walked off.

"JJ, please." You begged, quietly, squeezing her hand, directing her attention back to you.

She knew what her priority was right now.

"Come on,"

JJ walked you to the bathroom, and as she was cleaning up the cut with a damp paper towel, she was still huffing hard through her nose, the anger still pumping through her.

"I'm going to find that guy's supervisor, I'm going to put in a report about him, I'm going to-"

"It's okay, JJ." You said, reaching out to run a gentle hand along her lower back. "I'm pretty sure he's not gonna come near me again after what you said."

She let out a snort of laughter, and half her mouth upturned in a smile. You both knew that she could be incredibly intimidating despite her looks, and she always protected you - just one of the many things that had attracted you to her in the first place.

"Yeah, well... nobody comes near my girl and gets away with it."

[dollscotton]

20:16 • sᴛᴀʀɢɪʀʟ ɪɴᴛᴇʀʟᴜᴅᴇ (NSFW)

♡ dom!husband!Seonghwa x sub!housewife!reader

♡ domestic, smut

♡ WC • 1108

♡ Warnings!! (tags) • multiple positions, breeding, hair pulling, choking, exhibitionism(?), nipple play, creampie, breeding, multiple orgasms, wet dreams, raking. (pls lmk if I missed anything.)

♡ This has been rotting away in my head but I could never get to writing it. Now I've written it in half an hour listening to 'stargirl interlude' (The Weeknd, Lana Del Rey) on loop. It really helped tbh idk why I didn't think of it sooner 😭. Anyways enjoy, enjoy this while I work on my long fics. Lmk if you want a part two ♡♡.

♡ ᴛᴀɢʟɪsᴛ

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ ＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊ ☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚

   His hands were on your hips, pelvis meeting with your ass every second. The blue strip light of your cabinet illuminated the black marble below, contrasting with your white almond acrylics that desperately wanted to dig into the material as you felt his cock slip in and out of you.

   Your tits moved forward at every smack, threatening to spill out of your apron until they did, cascading like curtains over the neckline. Back arching, his cock hit into you at a deeper angle, making both of you cry out. He leaned down, grabbing you by the waist and breathing into your neck, his words inaudible due to your ears ringing.

   “My perfect little housewife, letting me fuck you for all of the city to see.” Seonghwa grunted, one of his hands coming up to pinch at your erect nipples. You whimper at the slight pain, grinding your ass against his pelvis before he pushes you down, holding the back of your neck and pounding into you at a rough pace.

   “Hwa!” You squealed, now feeling a tingle down your spine at the thought of someone below potentially seeing you; though it was a bustling city your windows were not tinted and it was nighttime. Everyone had a complete view of you being pounded by your husband. Seonghwa always fucked you like this, it was though he actually wanted someone to see. The clerestory windows of your penthouse give the people a full show of your bare form.

   Your husband slowed his pace. “Shh, baby, you want the neighbors to listen in?” He huffed, giving your cheek a firm slap before picking up his pace again. You shook your head, trying your best to keep the noise to a minimum despite the clapping overriding the noise of your television. Ironic, as you turned your head towards the windows.

   “Your logic does not make any sense,” you whined, city lights reflecting off your eyes. “If they can see me, they should hear me.”

   You weren’t sure where the boldness came from, but it definitely did not go unnoticed by Seonghwa, who hummed with a smirk forming on his features. “Yeah? You want a noise complaint, pretty?”

   He didn't wait for an answer, leaning over to grab the television remote and turning it off. Tossing it aside he began his pace once more, grabbing your hair and forcing your head up. “Let them hear you.”

   Tears stung at your eyes at the sudden tug, but you didn’t have time to wipe at them as you already felt the knot in your tummy forming. Your knuckles turned white. Your eyes start to roll back as your noises gradually get louder, as do Seonghwa once his balls start to tighten. 

   His hand snakes around to your clit, middle finger working its magic around the pearl as he moans purposefully in your ear. “You’re gonna make me cum, baby.” He says, making sure to make himself sound extra whiny.

   “,’m cumming,” you blubber, foot thumping against the ground and knee colliding with the cabinet as your lower half spasms around his cock, juices coating him like glaze. Seonghwa’s cock kept moving in and out of you regardless, thrusts starting to stutter and moans getting caught in his throat.

   “Gonna fill you up, 'm gonna fill that pussy…” He trailed off, pausing and holding you firmly against him as he came inside, breeding your little hole. You both groan in contentment, and you pull him out, turning to face him as you sat yourself on the freezing counter. “Again,” you whine, opening your legs.

   Seonghwa didn’t waste any time, pushing back into you and moving at a fluid pace. His arm went up and held the handle of the cabinets above for support, the other hand playing with your tits and wrapping around your throat.

   “Oh fuck me,” you sniffle, looking into his eyes. Your eyes shifted between looking into his and where you two met. He threw his head back, letting out a dry chuckle mixed in with a guttural moan. “You’re fucking crying.” he mused, tightening his grip.

    “I love it, I love it Hwa,” you whimper pathetically, locking your legs around his waist to pull him closer. Your grip on the counter’s sharp edges tightened, the edge digging into your palm. Your fingers were going to ache soon. “Love it so much.”

   “You just love this cock so much, baby.” he grunts, shuddering at the feeling of your gummy walls clamping around his sensitive tip. “It’s gonna breed you so much.”

    Seonghwa’s face leaned into yours, taking in your expression. His pretty little housewife, all spread and open for him to breed. The hand that was wrapped around the handle of the counter went down to your thigh, raking his nails into it. His balls started to tighten once more, his cock felt harder inside you. You looked down at where you met before looking back up into his eyes, sharp as slits. 

   Your husband leaned down to suck harshly at your jaw, hand still on your throat, and hand now gliding over your under thigh as he started spurting into you again. The squelching sounds now increased in volume. You could feel the mix of your juices drooling out of your pussy and down to the rim of your asshole, making you moan softly and your eyes shut at the warmness.

   “Pretty girl,” Seonghwa cooed, placing a soft kiss on your forehead. His hand rubbed your shoulder as the warmness of your body slowly dissolved, only feeling the sweat on your back and wetness between your legs. 

   You slowly opened your eyes as your head came to again, your senses coming down from the intense session. Seonghwa kept crooning at you.

   “That’s a good girl, open your eyes baby.” he said, still rubbing your arm. Your eyes fully opened again, being met with your pillow.

   “You’re awake,” Seonghwa murmured softly, hovering over you. You looked up at him, blinking unnoticed tears away. You could tell by his expression that he was amused, though his eyes were soft as they admired your sleepy features. “,’m felt so good,” you babble mindlessly, thighs closing. The discomfort of sweat now gets to you as you sit up.

   “Poor thing, having wet dreams again. You’re like a pup in its rut, darling.” Seonghwa ruffles your hair, “grinding and wetting against the sheets again. You’re all drenched.”

   You heat up at the revelation, sighing deeply and leaning forward into your husband’s neck in embarrassment, who pets and scratches at your scalp and nape comfortingly. He chuckles softly; “Don’t frown, I’ll take care of you, baby.”

[juniperskye]

She’s Definitely Guilty.

Based on the following ask: hi !! i love love love your work! (no seriously, you make me giggle and twirl my hair it's kinda ridiculous) could i request something where the reader is being interrogated by hotch (whether she's guilty or not is totally up to you!) he's using all his intimation tactics, the stern voice, the glare, maybe even shouting or hitting the desk. but the reader is kinda just captivated by him, blushing and all hot and bothered (like please yell at me more sir.. 🤭 oh? you think i'm a person of interest? you're totally interested in me aren't you.) anyways ty ty!! <33

Aaron Hotchner x (Fem) Reader

Angst/Fluff

Word count: 2167

REQUESTS ARE OPEN - not edited - please be kind. Requests are open and feedback is welcome if it's constructive! Nonnie I hope you like this because idk this one was hard for me to write lol

Warnings: My blog is 18+, minors DNI, some language, explicit thoughts, reader is horny for Hotch, no use of y/n, fem reader, no physical description other than hair length, let me know if I missed any!

I do not consent to having my work translated or reposted to any other site. That being said I do not own the characters portrayed in this story

“She’s in the interrogation room whenever you’re ready Hotch.” JJ informed him.

“Thank you JJ.” Hotch replied with a curt nod.

Hotch double checked the file in his hand before entering the interrogation room. You had been brought in for questioning in connection with a string of murders. You hadn’t been exactly sure of the reason you were here, but you hadn’t felt worried, considering you haven’t done anything wrong.

The door was pulled open, and all of the air in the room seemed to escape. You couldn’t believe how hot this man was…maybe being brought in wouldn’t be so bad after all.

Hotch looked up and found himself doing a double take. He hadn’t expecting you to be so captivating…could you really be caught up in all this?

As Hotch took a seat across from you, he couldn't help but notice the way your eyes sparkled with a mixture of defiance and curiosity. He cleared his throat, trying to push aside the unexpected flutter in his chest as he opened the file.

"Thank you for coming in, I’m Agent Hotchner. We just have a few questions regarding your whereabouts last Friday night," Hotch began, his voice steady despite the turmoil within him.

You tilted your head slightly, a small smile playing on your lips as you answered his question calmly, your alibi seemingly airtight. But Hotch couldn't focus on the words; instead, he found himself drawn to the way your hair fell gently over your shoulders and the subtle scent of lavender that surrounded you.

As the interrogation continued, Hotch realized that maybe, just maybe, there was more to this case than met the eye. And as he excused himself from the room, he made a silent promise to unravel the mystery not only for the sake of justice, but also to see you again. The case suddenly felt more personal, and Hotch knew he couldn't let it go until he had all the answers.

Days passed as the investigation progressed, with each piece of evidence leading to more questions than answers. Hotch found himself thinking about you at odd hours, wondering if there was a chance you were truly innocent or if you were just an expert at hiding your secrets.

One day, a breakthrough finally came in the form of a witness who claimed to have seen you on the night of one of the murders. Hotch's heart sank as he read the report, but a small voice in his head urged him to dig deeper.

Convinced that there was more to the story, Hotch decided to call you back into the precinct. He wouldn’t let you get away this time.

As you entered the precinct once again, this time escorted by two officers, Hotch kept his gaze steady on you. He noticed the slight flicker of surprise that crossed your face before it was quickly replaced by a mask of composure.

"Please have a seat," Hotch gestured to the chair in front of him, his tone neutral but his eyes piercing into yours. "We have some new information regarding your alibi on the night of the murder. Care to explain?"

You leaned back in your chair, maintaining eye contact with Hotch as you calmly refuted the new evidence presented to you. But deep down, a sense of unease started creeping in. Hotch was different this time, his determination palpable in the air around him.

Hotch listened intently to your words, observing every flicker of emotion that crossed your face. As you finished speaking, he leaned forward slightly, his voice taking on a steely edge.

"We know you were at the scene of the crime that night," Hotch stated firmly. "And I'm not leaving this room until you tell me the truth about what really happened."

You try to remain calm and collected, but you can’t help but feel flustered. A heat creeping its way up your chest and neck, landing on your cheeks. His firm tone had you pressing your thighs together, you were losing control of your body, all because of the man in front of you, accusing your of murder.

With a deep breath, you met Hotch's unwavering gaze and decided to take a different approach. Leaning in slightly, you locked eyes with his and spoke in a voice just above a whisper.

"Agent Hotchner, I understand why things may seem incriminating, but I assure you, there's more to this than meets the eye," you said with a teasing lilt in your tone.

"Help me understand then," He urged you to continue, his eyes searching yours for any sign of deception.

But instead of delving into the details of the case, you leaned even closer, your breath brushing against Hotch's cheek as you whispered softly, "Or maybe we could take a break from all this seriousness. You and I could... explore other ways to pass the time."

Hotch's jaw clenched in frustration, his patience wearing thin as your flirting only seemed to escalate. He leaned back in his chair, a deep frown marring his features.

"This is not a game," Hotch growled, his voice low and dangerous. "People's lives are at stake here, and you think this is some kind of joke?"

You leaned back, feigning innocence as you tilted your head to the side, strands of hair falling across your face in a calculated display. "I never said it was," you replied silkily, your eyes dancing with mischief.

Hotch's patience wore thin as he slammed his fist on the table, causing you to jump in surprise. "Enough!" he barked, his voice reverberating through the room. "Tell me the truth, damn it!”

As Hotch's anger flared, you couldn't ignore the rush of adrenaline coursing through your veins. Despite the gravity of the situation, a devilish grin tugged at the corners of your lips as you met Hotch's intense gaze with a provocative glint in your eyes.

In a brazen move that caught both Hotch and the officers off guard, you leaned forward once again, the air crackling with tension between you and Hotch. "Or perhaps you enjoy playing the tough, relentless interrogator," you murmured, your voice laced with seduction. "But we both know there are other games we could play."

Hotch's jaw tightened further; his frustration evident as he struggled to maintain his composure in the face of your blatant flirtation. The observing agents exchanged uneasy glances, uncertain how to proceed in this unexpected turn of events.

With a sly smile playing on your lips, you pushed further, pushing Hotch's buttons with deliberate intent. "You want answers, Agent Hotchner. But maybe I'm the answer you've been looking for all along," you purred, your words like a dare hanging in the charged atmosphere of the interrogation room.

Hotch's steely facade cracked for a moment, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his features before he regained control. "Enough games," he gritted out, his voice strained. "You either start talking or I'll have no choice but to place you under arrest."

Your smile widened at his threat, a glint of defiance in your eyes as you leaned back, taunting him with your silence. The tension in the room was palpable, a battle of wills raging between you and Hotch. You both shifted in your seats as Hotch tried to figure out how to proceed.

Agent Rossi entered the room just in time to witness the tense standoff between Hotch and you. His expression hardened as he took in the scene before him, sensing the undercurrent of tension that buzzed between you and Hotch.

"Hotch, we caught the actual killer," Rossi announced, breaking the charged silence in the room. "And you're not going to like who it is."

Hotch's eyes flashed with a mix of relief and frustration, torn between the unresolved situation with you and the urgency of catching the real culprit. He turned his gaze towards Rossi, silently urging him to continue.

Rossi took a deep breath before delivering the bombshell revelation. "It's Jenna." He said gravely, watching as recognition dawned on both your faces.

You felt a surge of disbelief and anger rise within you at the mention of Jenna's name. She was your best friend, someone you trusted with your life. And now she was trying to frame you for a horrendous crime. The pieces of the puzzle were slowly falling into place, painting a picture of betrayal and deception that left you reeling.

Hotch's eyes narrowed as he processed the information, a mix of emotions flickering across his face. He turned back to you, searching your expression for any sign of involvement in Jenna's crimes.

"You knew about this," Hotch stated more than asked, his voice laced with accusation.

You shook your head in disbelief, the weight of Jenna's betrayal heavy on your shoulders. "I had no idea," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. "She was my best friend. I never thought she was capable of something like this."

Hotch studied you for a moment, his gaze piercing yet contemplative. After a beat of silence, he let out a heavy sigh, the tension in the room dissipating slightly.

"We'll need you to give an official statement," Hotch said, his tone softer now, empathizing with the shock and betrayal you must be feeling.

Rossi quietly explained to Hotch that they found all the evidence in Jenna's home, meticulously laid out as if she wanted to be caught. When they confronted her, she admitted to everything, explaining that she didn't want to live in your shadow anymore. She had been envious of your success, your charisma, and the way everyone seemed drawn to you effortlessly.

As Rossi recounted Jenna's confession, Hotch's expression softened with a mix of understanding and pity. He could see the pain in your eyes as you processed the magnitude of Jenna's betrayal. The realization that someone you trusted implicitly had orchestrated such a twisted scheme left a bitter taste in your mouth.

Hotch placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder, a silent gesture of support amidst the chaos of emotions swirling around you. You turned to look at him, surprised by the tenderness in his eyes, a stark contrast to the intensity he usually exuded.

"I know this must be difficult for you," Hotch said softly, his voice a soothing balm to your frayed nerves. "But we need to get your statement to close this case once and for all."

You nodded, grateful for Hotch's understanding in the midst of the turmoil consuming you. As you recounted your version of events and the moments leading up to your wrongful arrest, Hotch listened intently, his unwavering gaze never leaving your face.

Once you finished your statement, there was a brief silence in the room as everyone processed the weight of Jenna's betrayal and the impact it had on you. Hotch broke the quiet tension with a decisive tone.

"I'll make sure Jenna faces the consequences of her actions," Hotch's eyes softened as he looked at you, his usual stoic demeanor giving way to a rare vulnerability.

“Thank you Agent Hotchner, how could I ever repay you and your team for catching Jenna?” You asked, batting your lashes at him.

Hotch's gaze met yours, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes at your flirtatious tone. He cleared his throat, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he replied, "I think seeing justice served will be reward enough."

You couldn't help but feel a surge of boldness, encouraged by the intensity of the moment and the shared connection forged through adversity. Leaning slightly closer to Hotch, you lowered your voice to a whisper, a teasing glint in your eye.

"Are you sure there's nothing else I can do to express my gratitude?" you asked, your voice laced with playful insinuation.

Hotch's expression flickered with surprise before a spark of something else - maybe desire - passed through his eyes. He cleared his throat again, regaining his composure as he replied in a more businesslike tone, "I appreciate the sentiment, but catching criminals is all part of the job."

Despite his professional demeanor, there was a subtle warmth in Hotch's eyes that gave you pause, a silent acknowledgment of the unspoken connection between you. Hotch's gaze lingered on yours for a moment longer, the air between you charged with unspoken words and untamed desires. As the weight of the moment hung heavy in the room, you felt a rush of adrenaline coursing through your veins, urging you to take a risk, to push the boundaries of this newfound connection.

In a daring move, you slipped a piece of paper out of your purse, scribbled down your number, and slid it across the table towards Hotch. Your heart raced as you watched Hotch pick up the paper, his eyes flickering with surprise before his lips curved into a small, knowing smile.

“My number, in case you think of a way that I can repay you.” You shoot Hotch a wink before making your way out of the precinct.