#and then continued to think about it for several hours T^T

[pathologicalreid]

come a little closer | s.r.

in which you and Spencer have sex for the first time since his release from prison, and more importantly, since Cat told him what happened in Mexico

margotober masterlist

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: smut (18+ mdni) content warnings: mentions sexual assault, spoilers for season 12 of cm, fingering, unprotected p in v sex, crying during sex, cockwarming, explicit consent, not really softdom but reader has spencer take the lead, read with care word count: 2.65k a/n: this bad boy has been in the works for MONTHS. please tell me if you like it i'm so desperate for affirmation. (also this is the last kinktober post of margotober)

His hands on your waist were becoming firmer in their placement as Spencer continued pressing his lips to yours, expertly slipping his tongue into your mouth as he managed to take your breath away.

This could be as far as you went, and you would be content with that. After prison, after Mexico, you were grateful that he let you in at all. You were sleeping in the same bed at night, he was home for the month, teaching forensic psychology at a private university in the district. “Are you okay?” You whispered against his lips.

You were sat on the edge of the bed, and he was standing between your legs. “Yes,” he responded, continuing his motions.

In the past few weeks, you have found yourself in this situation three times. The first two times he had called it off, being too overwhelmed by fractured memories of his time in Mexico. The last time, you asked him to stop when you got stuck in your head, too anxious to remember that you were supposed to be enjoying it.

Today, you were tired. Too tired to think about anything other than the feeling of his lips on yours. You couldn’t control the whimper that escaped your throat as he gently tugged at your bottom lip with his teeth.

He pulled away slightly, eyes studying your face quickly before he asked, “That was good right? The noise?”

Your chest ached at the recognition that he had been left with so much self-doubt that he didn’t even know if what he was doing was right. Nodding confidently, you peered up at him through your eyelashes, “Yeah, that was good. I liked that,” you assured him.

It felt like the first time. As if you hadn’t had sex together multiple times and spent the past several years learning what the other liked. “What do you want me to do?”

“Take the lead,” you implored, looking at him. You couldn’t tell him what to do, at the very core of your actions, this was about him. This was about what he needed to do. You could always tell him to stop, but if he asked you to change something, you’d move heaven and earth to make him comfortable.

You just wanted to make him feel comfortable. The way you could feel his heart pounding in his chest, made you wonder if he was going to call it off. You had to bite your tongue from asking if he was alright, you needed to trust that he would tell you if anything was wrong.

Surprising you, he deftly slipped his hands beneath your t-shirt, pulling the soft fabric off of your torso in one quick movement. He used the pads of his fingers to lightly skim your bare body, causing goosebumps to spread across your skin. You kept yourself quiet, looking up at him as he studied you with wonder in his gaze, “You’re so pretty.”

If you hadn’t been hyper-aware of your surroundings, you might’ve missed the compliment. “I love you,” you breathed, chest tightening in a nauseating mixture of adoration and nervousness.

“I love you too,” he responded easily to you, his large hand placed firmly on your ribcage while his other planted itself on the mattress, maintaining his balance as his head craned forward to kiss you.

Your hand shook as you thumbed the hem of his shirt, moving your lips against his as you waited for him to cue you. The catch there was Spencer could spend hours kissing you without needing anything more. Your other hand rested softly on his collarbone, a non-sensual location where you were still touching him, but it wasn’t an intimate touch, at least, not in a sexual sense. It was an intimate touch in the sense that you were using the soft pressure of your palm to reassure him that you were here.

Spencer’s hand on your side gently pushed your back down to the mattress, once the fabric of the sheets was touching your skin, you eyed him curiously as he took his shirt off of his own volition. Better food and a considerably less stressful living situation had brought him back to life, and the haunted look that he came home to you with had faded over the months.

He stepped back from the mattress, and before you could figure out what he was doing, he took your thighs in his hands and moved you so your body was entirely on the bed, and you thought that the laugh that came from you as he moved you would be the end. Clamping your hand over your mouth, you looked up at him with wide eyes. “I’m sorry,” you whispered to him, mortified.

Shaking his head, Spencer smiled and climbed up on the bed with you, “No,” he breathed, hovering over you, “Do it again.”

This time a nervous laugh bubbled through your throat, “What?”

He dropped a soft kiss to your lips before pushing himself back up on his arms, “I just want this to feel normal. It’s sex, there’s no need to be so procedural about it.”

You stared up at him while nodding, “Okay,” you affirmed, reaching a hand up and fiddling with the hair at the nape of his neck. There was no procedure available to you. There was no pamphlet that could readily guide you on being intimate with your formerly imprisoned boyfriend after a serial killer let him know that she had arranged his sexual assault in a foreign country.

The best thing you could think to do was let him take the lead. He was the one who had initiated this, and you were more than willing to follow.

Spencer deftly pulled your underwear and shorts down together, guiding your legs out of the extraneous fabric before he paused. His arm looped around your leg, effectively hugging your calf as he rested his chin on your knee, heady eyes looking at you before he spoke, “Oh, angel,” he murmured, “My memory never does you justice.”

Your stomach flipped at his words, your hips adjusting on the sheets as he detached himself from your leg and returned to his station above you, this time with you fully nude beneath him. “Then it’s a good thing I’m right here,” you murmured, giving him a slice of comfort with a double meaning.

His hand skimmed down your chest, resting his palm on your lower belly before he looked back up at you, brown eyes meeting yours, “May I touch you?”

Breathlessly, you nodded, “Yes,” you told him, verbalizing your answer. Reinforcing your response as his hand slid further down, cupping your heat with his hand, his index finger slipping between your folds.

He didn’t break eye contact with you as he gently rubbed you, his unpracticed hand quickly gaining confidence as your lips parted and your breath quickened. You hadn’t considered how quickly your orgasm would build up, but for as long as it’s been for him, it’s also been for you.

His finger slid into you slowly, his eyes watching you carefully with every slight movement, and a soft moan escaped from your throat at the sensation of his finger knuckle deep in you, feeling miles further than your own fingers could ever reach. Lifting your head up, you brought your mouth to his, moving your lips slowly against his, moaning into his mouth as he withdrew his finger, slipping it back in with ease. There were no words that you could find that would accurately explain the amalgamation of emotions that were rushing through you right now, but the way you were kissing Spencer portrayed them perfectly.

Spencer hummed against your lips, delicately adding a second finger to his ministrations, the stretch of your pussy around his hand causing your back to lift off the bed. He started thrusting his fingers in and out of you, a gentle but firm pace that took away your ability to focus on kissing him, letting your head drop to the pillows.

“Oh, Spencer,” you breathed, the knot building in your lower belly causing your head to spin. “Spence,” you panted his name, “You’re gonna— ah.” You screwed your eyes shut for just a moment before opening them again, meeting his as you whispered, “Please, please, please.”

Your incessant begging only came to an end when your orgasm finally took you under the influence of dopamine, walls clenching around his fingers as he worked you through the waves of pleasure coursing through you. “You’re so pretty,” Spencer mused, his words taking you slightly by surprise as his hand withdrew from your cunt.

You sighed dazedly up at him, reaching up a hand to tuck a strand of hair behind his ear, “I love you,” you whispered, looking up at him with wonder in your eyes.

The lopsided smile he gave you was all you needed to know that all was well, and the kiss that he dropped on your lips elicited the same feeling. “I love you too,” he muttered against your lips, keeping himself propped above you.

Parting your lips with curiosity, you struggled to find the words to ask him. “I want… Can we…” you tried, but everything fell short as your eyes searched his desperately.

Spencer took his lower lip between his teeth, and you knew that if he called it off, you would be more than happy with the progress that you’d made. You’re surprised when he responds, “I need you to say it. I need you to ask.”

“Would you like to have sex with me?” You asked him, there was a tentative note in your voice that seemed to bring him comfort. A sort of cumulative blanket of uncertainty over the moment that you were sharing.

Spencer nodded in response “Yes,” he said, giving you a verbal answer.” He didn’t take another moment to think about it before he moved off of the bed, your eyes followed him curiously as he hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his pants and underwear, dropping them both to the floor in one fell swoop. “Yes,” he repeated.

With every ounce of self-control in you failing, you eyed his cock. Standing at attention, the tip was leaking pre-cum and he looked almost painfully hard, your lips gaped at the sight, “Oh.”

Finding his way back to the bed, he held himself above you, not touching you at all as his head tilted to the side, “Are you sure this is what you want?”

“Yeah, I am,” you looked up at him. “It’s just been a while,” you breathed, letting your nerves show through in the hopes that it would ease both of your minds.

He smiled softly at you, understanding clear in his expression, “We’ll go slow, okay?”

His use of the word we made your chest tighten, a recognition of your nerves as much as his. “Okay,” you breathed, opening your legs slightly wider for him and placing your hands on either one of his shoulders.

Biting on your lower lip, your eyes flittered down to where his hand was positioning his cock at your entrance, the soft skin of his tip swiping over your clit as he found his mark, pushing just the tip inside, and giving the both of you the time you needed to adjust. You moved your gaze back up to his face, studying him intently as you did so. As sure as he seemed, you wouldn’t put it past him to push through something if that’s what he thought you wanted.

“Take your time,” you whispered, trying to reassure him without it being overbearing, your breathing hitched when he pushed in more. Somehow, at only about half of his length, he felt impossibly deep in you.

Making eye contact again, Spencer watched your expression, “I’ve got you,” he said, dropping soft kisses to your lips, one after the other.

You nodded, keeping your eyes on his to the best of your ability, “I’m okay, we’re okay.”

Your words gave him the confidence to push into you, fully sheathing himself inside of you, and breaking eye contact. His head dropped into the crook of your neck, groaning against the soft skin as you tried to adjust yourself with the sheer amount of pressure between your legs.

Taking a deep breath, you froze at the realization that tears were falling onto your skin, the nearly inaudible drip of them on your neck and the pillow behind you spreading an icy feeling through your veins. “Spence,” you whispered, combing your fingers through his hair while you felt his dick twitch inside of you.

He didn’t respond, not verbally at least, producing a low hum.

“How are you doing?” You asked him softly, trying to stop your walls from clenching around him while he was clearly having a moment. “We can stop if you need to,” you murmured, continuing to play with his hair.

Slowly, he pushed himself up on shaky arms and kissed you, tasting of salty tears and bitter coffee. As his lips coaxed yours open, he moved his hips, gently filling you as he did so.

Tears pricked at your own eyes as you realized that he was being as gentle with you as you were with him. It had been six months since you last opened up to each other like this.

“I missed you,” he muttered, pulling his head back so that he could watch where your bodies were joined, his shaft covered in your slick as he thrust in and out.

You already knew that he’d missed you while he was away, but he specifically missed this. The feeling of baring your soul to another person, and this time around it all felt that much rawer. It broke your heart while simultaneously putting it back together. “I missed you too,” you whimpered, forcing the words out while he found a steady rhythm.

His thrusts were still slow, but they were hard, pushing himself as deeply into your cunt as he could go. “You’re so good for me,” he said, grunting as he kept moving, “Fuck it’s— Can I cum in you?”

Nodding frantically, you met his eyes again. “Yeah,” you breathed, a sharp moan torn from your throat as he moved up, changing the angle ever so slightly as he continued fucking into you. “Oh,” you gasped, as your eyes rolled back at the sensation of him spilling himself into you, his sloppy thrusts sending you over that same edge.

You couldn’t make sense of whatever he was mumbling while his hips stuttered to a stop, leaving himself firmly planted inside of you. He rested his head on your shoulder, his body lying on top of yours.

Once you remembered how to breathe, your hands made their way back to his head, fingers combing through his hair. “Are you alright?” You asked him, seeking out a final confirmation that he was, in fact, okay.

He hummed in response, “I’m great,” he said, “I’m really really… in love with you.”

Startled, a light giggle escaped your lips, “I’m really really in love with you too,” you responded, mimicking his intonation.

“You’re so perfect for me,” he murmured, coveting you in a way that made you feel like the luckiest girl in the world. As far as you were concerned, you were the luckiest girl in the world.

Sighing, one of your hands fell to his arm and you closed your eyes, ready to fall asleep like this, with him still tucked into you.

Your other hand remained up, playing with his hair, “You’re gonna make me sleep,” he said, a half-complaint, really.

“That’s okay,” you whispered, knowing that eventually someone would get up and turn off the lights, but right now, you’d rather stay with him. Right now, that was the only thing that mattered to you.

[searchingforserendipity25]

like.

lawrence's thing about being clocked by the old pope as a manager and not a shepherd, about being taken as inoffensive and unambitious and politically-unmotivated by most anyone at the beginning of the conclave. is that.

okay, he's a manager, he's the backstage admin making sure the curia goes on, he's a paper pusher. but you can't convince me this guy didn't paper push a whole lot of insane papers.

you don't end up with a reputation for dogged integrity, easily forgotten influence and selfless reliability as the second most influential person in the vatican like that by being boring or normal. or at least boring in a normal way.

innocent xiv in his second first day of office being given the super secret cardinal cvs and nodding along to everything, with a few surprises. until he gets to t. lawrence, dean of the college. and it's just. this gigantic fold out of stapled documents that goes over his knees and keeps unrolling on the floor.

he's merely a manager, alright. it's just that he's been managing literally everything, step by step, all the way up the ladder.

this man could bring down the church in half an hour w a few phone calls. this man could bring down several establishments, and it is not entirely clear, reading between the lines, that he hasn't, indirectly, unveiled a number of scandals in his time.

and it's not that lawrence thinks of himself as a bona fide politician, as anyone influential. it's not that he seeks out power, exactly, that he hunts down corruption on purpose. he's not a detective; he's not a cynic.

it's just that he is competent. that's his calling, in a sense; it has been his calling, to be competent for god, in god's service.

he is very, very, very good at his job, which has, from what the paperwork relies, been that of middle-upper management everywhere he has ever been, from his catholic youth scouting group days, to his seminary years, to canon law teaching, to bishorship, and beyond.

his loss of faith is threatening enough, at the start of the movie, that he has come to a point where he wants to leave his work. he cannot do, without faith, because it is his faith. without prayer to guide him, how can he possible do it?

everything that happens during the conclave is like a nightmare build custom made for him. the culmination of a career built on the foundations of pretending to himself he is keeping well out any undue influence to correct procedure, while in fact determining what correct procedure should look like.

there is a difference, a fine difference, between making sure events and places and concepts as vague and complex as the bride of christ run smoothly; and then there is infighting, which is petty, and political, and not any of his business.

any accountability review process will simply have to wait, and ideally be someone else's responsibility. there's a time and there's a place, and lawrence has lived his life very much keeping to his own time and place.

this determination, as it happens, does not last very long. lawrence has live his life keeping to his time, and place, and that is, unfortunately for his peace of mind, wherever and whenever there is something wrong with the machinal workings of the responsibility in his charge.

the cognitive dissonance + all revealed secrets + the continued choice to take part in the world of politics is at last strong enough to unbalance his belief in his own mediocrity. which had, while being a decisive part of his sense of self, also been chocking him w resentment a bit.

turns out, he is as able of holding a desire as anyone else, just because he refuses to hold to an agenda beyond his obligations.

he is neither beneath nor above; being discreet about the power he holds does not make it any less real, or any less his responsibility to wield it openly to break tradition and make sure there is a structure. checks and balances. that what is rotten is not hidden beneath gilt, that the bride of christ is not cheated or lied to.

that the living principles they swear to are upheld in truth and not just in ideal, that the weaknesses of men in power are admitted. and that includes his own ambitions, his own hypocrisies and human frailties.

he is, after all, a manager. this work is what he is for.

it is possible he is dealing with this growing self-awareness received via exploding sistine chapel to the face with some grace. possible! perhaps not likely.

what is clear, to innocent, is that the church as it stands has been quietly, diligently, unassumingly managed over the decades into the shape of what thomas lawrence's church ought to be. in the image of his integrity, the mark his service leaves behind. no one has noticed; it is possible his predecessor made sure no one noticed.

the late holy father, it has to be said, was quite fond of his secret weapons hidden in plain sight.

a more suspicious man would think that the fact that he went underestimated for so long was part of a deliberate farce.

but no. he's not a great tactical genius, he's just like that. t. lawrence, there it is on paper. through the years, a whole bursting folder of different grains and colours of cheap office paper, a long scroll of good works, of work as faith, all the way to cardinal-dean of the college of cardinals. and now?

and now he's innocent's extremely competent manager to manage, and it is not entirely clear how well the curia might hold on, without him. possibly it might not.

no pressure tho. it's not like he's asked to retire before or anything.

his scouts group is recorded as having organized a fully-functioning food kitchen during his administration, btw. it's still open, and funded by the dean of the college of cardinals. if you even care. innocent cares so much.

[stellewriites]

every sort of day

ghoap x gn!reader fluff

when you woke that morning, the bed was empty and the flat quiet. you felt the sheets but they were cold and you huffed feeling a little frustrated that you’d woken up late even if you knew you’d needed the sleep.

pouting regardless, you got up and headed into the kitchen, shuffling along the wood floors in your thick, warm socks. your eyes went to the fridge first like every morning and you grinned when you saw the letter magnets rearranged into a message, i luv u. looking slightly lower you barked out a surprised laugh at the continued message using numbers for any missing original magnets, 4nd ur ar5e.

you shook your head and finally opened your coffee maker, feeling your chest warm when you saw a pod already inside and your mug set just to the side of it. your favourite brand of almond milk had been replenished in the fridge without you realising and you savoured the hot drink once it was made with a satisfied hum.

you’d missed johnny and simon before they’d left to work on base that morning, but they’d made sure to leave their mark behind for you to find.

you settled on the sofa in your boyfriends’ t-shirt and boxers, wrapped in a fluffy blanket. you sent a text to the pair of them, a simple love heart to let them know you’d woken up, and then turned on the tv. you’d been sick the past few days though you could tell you were on the up now, your head not feeling so fuzzy and your throat not scratching as bad. your boyfriends must have agreed given they’d set up the stuff for a coffee; simon was a staunch believer of tea only when ill and he made you stick to it too when he was around.

halfway through your trash tv show you napped for an hour or two, only waking when your stomach grumbled and complained at being empty for too long. wrapped up tight in your blanket, you yawned and headed to the kitchen to grab the soup johnny had made. you spotted it on the top shelf in the fridge and heated it up in the microwave under the brief instructions taped to the side of the tupperware. you were thankful it didn’t need too long, eager to get back to the sofa and the latest season of love island. while you waited for it to heat up you made yourself a tea and sent a photo to simon, smiling when he sent back a simple, good lass 🖤.

you sighed at the smell when the microwave dinged. spicy veg, your favourite and easy to keep down with the gippy tummy you’d had the last few days.

once you sat back down with both items, you hunched over like a shrimp to keep from spilling it, your blanket hung over your shoulders like a shroud.

you messaged simon worriedly when you’d heard nothing from johnny by mid afternoon. you knew they were meant to be in training, finishing off any vague handwavey paperwork they did and catching up with their captain after the last week off on break with you. but still. you worried.

johnny was chatty, even when he was in a meeting or on a helo, he always managed to send you a little something to keep your nerves settled.

your phone pinged and you opened the video simon sent quick sharp.

it showed johnny running laps on his own on a big field, a group of younger recruits cheering him on from the side, slightly out of frame and sat on the grass next to the track. your boyfriend’s face was beet red and his wheezing breaths could be heard even several feet away.

“talked a big game about my training program for the new recruits, said i was losing my touch,” simon’s voice came out of your speakers. he was clearly amused even if you couldn’t see him. he raised his voice for johnny. “‘ow you feeling now, sergeant?"

“cannae feel ma legs, lt.” johnny slowed down on his lap until he was just walking, coming to a stop opposite simon, though still a ways away on the track. “pain in ma lungs is—“ he hacked a rough cough before leaning over his knees.

“still think i’ve gone soft?” simon asked as the video zoomed in comically and unflattering on johnny panting and suffering.

“ah think yer a petty bastard,” johnny grumbled, keeping his voice loud enough to be heard by his lt. cheeky. “ah think ah might’ve pulled somethin’ permanently.” he stood back up and tried to stretch his back with a wince.

“cheer up,” simon said unsympathetically. “and say ‘ello to sunny, they were worried f’ya,” simon said softer.

johnny perked up at the mention of your nickname and you grinned at his wobbly smile on the screen, his chest still rising and falling with his quick, deep breaths. “missin’ ya, sunshine.”

the video flicked around and you were being shown simon’s work mask and his deep dark eyes hidden in the shadows of it. “be ‘ome soon,” he promised.

the video cut off as you heard simon yell at johnny to keep running and you relaxed back with a laugh; johnny would be thoroughly knackered by time he got in so you were guaranteed a puppy pile the second he stepped through the door. you turned back to the tv and settled in for another possible nap, eager for the day to go by so you could see your partners once more.

——

you blearily rubbed at your eyes as you heard the door open and peeked over the side of the sofa to see your boys shuffling in. slowly and clumsily, you made your way over with the blanket still tangled around you.

you let one arm escape the warm cocoon to help simon with his coat, tugging at the sleeve as he shrugged it off. you weren’t much help but he liked that you tried even when you weren’t feeling 100%.

johnny leant in to kiss your forehead and you sniffled with a smile as you looked up at him. simon’s hand was warm where it gently squeezed the back of your neck before trailing down to the small of your back over the blanket.

“kept warm?” he asked before heading to the kitchen and leaving you to be wrapped up in johnny’s arms. once he had a good hold around you he led you behind simon faithfully. your small steps tied in the burrito blanket hindered his longer strides so he swayed side to side on each foot to slow down and stop you from tripping in his eagerness.

“yeah, i’ve been wrapped up all day, hardly moved,” you said.

“lucky for some,” johnny groaned into your neck. “si ran me bloody ragged.”

you laughed and reached and hand up to pet sympathetically at his hair. your laugh soon turned to a racking cough and you ducked your head into your elbow and away from johnny.

he rocked you gently on the spot as he leant against the kitchen top opposite where simon was lining up three cups of tea.

once the kettle popped, johnny led you forward and squished you between his front and simon’s back as the larger man poured the boiling water into the cups.

you let your free arm curl around simon’s stomach, pawing gently like a cat at his bulk beneath the thick hoody until his own hand raised to hold it. he ran his thumb over your knuckles before lifting your hand to kiss the back of it, lingering.

“and did ya eat today?” he asked.

you nodded and hummed the assentive.

“our lovely bonnie, knows how t’ take care ah’themselves when we can’t,” johnny hummed, pleased and proud, into your hair.

“missed you both today,” you admitted.

you felt johnny grin against your skin and simon squeezed your hand tighter.

“ye’d a’been asleep all day, sunny,” he joked.

you pouted. it was true but that wasn’t the reaction you wanted.

johnny tugged you back a few steps and simon let your hand slip from his; the scot guided you out of the kitchen and towards your bedroom, and when you checked over both of your shoulders for simon he chuckled fondly.

simon had all three mugs in his hands and was close behind as johnny gently shoved you back onto the bed, your knees sinking into the plush duvet and mattress as you climbed to the centre.

you got yourself snuggled against the pillows with johnny to your right and then helped simon with the mugs on your left before he too collapsed against your side, shoulder to hip.

“put some honey in yours,” simon murmured softly as you blew on the hot tea. you smiled gratefully and leant in to kiss his cheek. “think we should order in, can’t be arsed t’cook.”

“aye, that’s fine w’me,” johnny agreed as he turned on the tv opposite your bed. he flickered through your watchlist before landing on young frankenstein and pressing play.

you pulled the blanket up high and held on to johnny’s hand, keeping your tea up high to inhale the steam while simon petted at your thigh under the covers. you didn’t know when you’d nodded off, but simon must have taken your mug before it could spill and johnny must have laid you lower on the bed to get you comfy. you woke to the sound of football playing on the tv and you groaned and curled further into simon’s side. he’d always managed to stay still better than johnny could, even if he was just as invested in the game. you felt johnny’s hand rub up and down your side, before gripping the fat of your hip in excitement and patting it softly but rapidly when a goal was scored.

“easy, johnny,” simon reminded him and johnny leant over to kiss your brow with a wet smooch.

“sorry, sunny,” he whispered. “go back to sleep. i’ll be quiet.”

you snorted softly, knowing he’d do his best but would be unable to keep the promise. you managed to fall asleep again regardless with a small smile, cuddled close between the two of them; simon’s arm around you both and his aftershave gently breaking through your stuffed nose.

being ill would be so much worse if you didn’t have these two lugs keeping you comfortable and cared for.

[shiugart]

Bloody Bites | Twisted Wonderland

Vampire!Malleus Draconia x Female!Reader | Priest!Rollo Flamme x Female!Reader | VampireHunter!Leona Kingscholar x Female!Reader | Vampire AU | TW: Blood, descriptions of violence, manipulation, abuse, dead dove: do not eat.

ACT II

A C T I

It was going to be a harsh winter.

She knew it from the first snowfall when there was barely a hint of frost on the trees. Day after day, the temperature dropped alarmingly, and in a matter of hours, the entire forest had been painted white. A white so pure it was almost uncomfortable to look at.

“You should stay in the village this season.”

Yuu blinked, losing track of what Father Rollo was solemnly reciting that Sunday morning. She turned toward the voice, facing a pair of brown eyes that, to any stranger, would seem cold and indifferent. But to her, they held an almost imperceptible warmth.

“What…?”

“You can stay at my house. During the winter, there won’t be any smell of blood or anything that bothers you.”

He continued, unfazed, completely ignoring the constant "shhh" from the other villagers around them. Yuu blinked again, stunned.

“They rarely manage to hunt anything this season.”

“Are… are you crazy?” She lowered her voice behind a fist, trying to draw less attention than her companion. “Do you have any idea what they’d say about a man and a woman living under the same roof without being married…?”

“You know I don’t give a shi—”

“Adel!”

It was a fact—now everyone in the church knew about their conversation. Even Father Rollo paused his sermon and observed them for a brief, cutting moment before resuming his reading with a grunt, an act of mercy.

It was incredible how, with a face that almost resembled a woman’s, his pretty brown eyes, the deep dark blue—almost black—of his hair, and his rosy skin, Adel could curse so shamelessly inside a church.

“You know Father Rollo…”

“I don’t understand why you revere that idiot so much.”

“Adel…” she pleaded, pulling at her hair in exasperation.

“If he cared about you as much as you think, he never would’ve exiled you to live alone in the forest.”

He added with disdain, declaring his victory as Yuu fell silent.

Not long after, the service ended. Yuu wasn’t even surprised when, from a distance, Father Rollo gestured for her to come over while everyone else left the sanctuary. She quickly bid Adel farewell before hurrying in his direction.

“F-Father Rollo, we didn’t mean to…”

“That butcher… are you two close?”

Rollo Flamme cut off her murmuring mercilessly, earning a confused look from the younger woman.

Yuu swallowed dryly, staring into the pair of cold, dark eyes that always seemed to judge her.

Rollo Flamme was young, very young. But that didn’t disqualify him from his position. The deep dark circles under his eyes were the greatest proof of his devotion and commitment to the clergy. With his nearly six-foot height, severe yet attractive face, he radiated an imposing aura that drew villagers like flies to honey—or, in Yuu’s case, made her shrink into herself.

“Well, yes…”

“Has he asked for your hand in marriage?”

He cut her off again, impatient.

Yuu stared at him blankly, making the wrinkle between Rollo’s brows deepen.

“Has he?”

“No! No, no, no…” She fidgeted with her fingers, suppressing the urge to bite her nails in an attempt to escape his icy gaze. “Adel and I are just friends…”

“Oh, please.”

Rollo scoffed, a condescending smile curling his lips as he looked at Yuu with false sympathy.

“Don’t tell me you seriously believe that a man and a single woman can just be friends?”

Suddenly, the smile vanished, leaving only the tight press of his lips in distaste.

“If you keep thinking that way, you’ll only follow in the disgraceful footsteps of your mother.”

“Remember, Yuu, there isn’t a single man in the world who doesn’t see you for what you are…”

“The daughter of a prostitute…”

She murmured, eyes cast downward in shame.

Yes, that’s what she was.

Exile was the price of atoning for her late mother’s sins. Carrying that shame had long been her way of life.

“Oh, come now, don’t make that face.”

Rollo’s fingers took her chin with a gentleness that starkly contrasted with the severe, accusatory tone he had just used to reprimand her.

“I only want what’s best for you, and if I speak to you this way, it’s because I care. You understand, don’t you?”

“Yes… Thank you, Father.”

“Wonderful.”

Rollo hummed in satisfaction, sliding a hand over Yuu’s hair in what could be considered a reward.

“Now, go home. Remember not to talk to strangers, especially if they’re men.”

“…Alright.”

She stepped back with a reverence, ready to begin the long journey back to her cabin in the forest.

“Oh, Yuu…”

“…Yes?”

“Don’t forget that I love you.”

• • •

By the time she reached her humble dwelling, the sky was completely dark, and the snow reached up to her knees. She took refuge by the fireplace, seeking to rid herself of the oppressive cold that seemed to cling to her very blood. She knew it was risky to go back and forth between the church and her cabin, but what else could she do? Father Rollo had always been so kind to her that missing a service felt like an unforgivable act of ingratitude.

She looked out the window, finding nothing but utter and absolute darkness. On nights as cold as this, she missed her mother’s presence... She stepped away from the window, pushing away thoughts of the past, causing the wooden frame to creak under her touch. A creeping sensation stirred within her—that something, deep in the forest, was watching her. She added more firewood to the flames and wrapped herself in a pile of furs that, despite being old and worn, did their job: keeping her warm.

The next morning, the sky was overcast, and the cold was hardly any different from the night before. Yuu began her daily chores early, stepping outside only to clear the frost that had built up on her door and roof. On days like these, wolves and other creatures lurked in the shadows, so the less time spent outside, the better.

That’s why she didn’t know how it happened.

She didn’t know at what moment, in the midst of her cold and lonely winter, she ended up like this—dragging a bloodied young man she had found on an equally gray afternoon while gathering firewood. She knew her world was inhabited by all sorts of malevolent creatures, but she simply couldn’t ignore the dying, unmistakably human figure of the boy lying in the snow, disturbing the pristine white with blood... too much blood.

She knew Father Rollo would reprimand her for not heeding his advice, but she would regret it for the rest of her life if she left him there to die.

There was something sinister about this young man. Something terribly sinister in how pale and beautiful he was. Beautiful—yes, there was no better word to describe his angelic features, which clashed with the ragged state of his bedding. His hair was black, deep, like the glossy plumage of a raven gleaming under the flickering firelight. Even someone as uneducated and illiterate as Yuu could tell that the refined attributes of his face would put many artists and poets—who prided themselves on knowing true beauty—to shame.

She was so mesmerized by his appearance that, throughout the entire process of cleaning his body, she failed to notice that there wasn’t a single wound on his pale, ice-cold skin.

The stranger remained motionless for days, making her question whether she had brought home a man or a statue.

Either way, since his arrival, her small hut no longer felt so lonely. And somehow, since she brought him in, the constant sense of danger emanating from the forest seemed to have lessened.

Yuu basked in the newfound calm, oblivious to the fact that she had invited the most dangerous predator to her doorstep.

Months passed, and winter began to fade. It seemed like any other day when she left to gather firewood, leaving her silent guest alone, as she had done in the weeks prior. Excited to see how spring was gradually making its presence known with small touches of green here and there, she lost track of time and found herself returning home as the sunset painted the sky in shades of red and orange. It was beautiful; she rarely had the opportunity to admire the sky like this.

The tranquility of the forest was soothing—the distant hum of insects and the fluttering of birds signaled that spring was just around the corner. She gazed at the faint silhouette of the moon in the sky, feeling strangely happy.

Soon, I’ll be able to return to the village and see Adel and Father Rollo!

“Good afternoon.”

Her blood turned to ice.

Slowly, she turned to face the group of hunters who, at some point along her path, had drawn uncomfortably close. She vaguely recognized their faces—they were likely from the village, though she couldn’t put names to them. It was strange. Why were they approaching her like this?

“Good afternoon,” she replied, her voice steady and composed as she clutched the firewood against her chest, an awful sense of dread swirling in the pit of her stomach.

If there was one reason Yuu had survived alone in the forest for so long, it was her instinctive fear of strangers. Even she was surprised that she had invited one into her home.

“It’s been a harsh winter, hasn’t it?”

He kept talking. Why was he still talking? It was odd—normally, everyone, except for Adel, avoided her like the plague.

“Yes, it has.”

She slowly stepped backward, uneasy at how they all seemed to notice her growing desperation to end the conversation. The dogs growled in response, making her even more anxious.

“We had a good hunt,” the eldest of the hunters mused, gesturing toward the large stag they were dragging back to the village. “If you want, we can give you something... in exchange for your services.”

“My... services?”

The men exchanged glances.

“Come on, we all know you’re following in your mother’s footsteps—that’s why that priest cast you out of the village,” another man interjected, far less patient. “So spare us the false modesty.”

She didn’t even get the chance to scream.

Yuu fought with all her might, but they were too many—too strong and too fast. Within seconds, her face was pressed against the snow, sharp stones and twigs scraping her skin.

“N-no...!”

She kicked wildly, screaming in terror as she felt a hand slipping beneath her skirt. Somehow, she managed to snatch a small hunting knife and swung it blindly, forcing them to back away. She took advantage of their surprise and ran, abandoning the firewood in her frantic escape. But she didn’t get far.

One of the dogs sank its teeth into her leg and dragged her back. Her screams echoed through the endless forest. It hurt. It felt like massive needles were tearing through her flesh. Someone struck her across the face, and suddenly, everything went dark.

Yet she refused to stop fighting.

Then came the worst of it.

“Shit! Which one of you idiots stabbed her?!”

“W-what was I supposed to do?! She wouldn’t stop struggling!”

“What do we do now...? Her guts are about to spill out any second now...”

She held her stomach, feeling a great, damp warmth spreading through her arms. Cold, it was so cold. Her eyes could only make out blurry shapes, and her lips trembled with unintelligible mutterings.

It hurt, it hurt so much.

Yuu wanted to scream, but her body was becoming less and less hers; there was a disconnect that manifested as a tingling, numbing her extremities.

So… I’m really going to die like this.

On her deathbed, she thought of Adel, of how she should have listened to him and thanked him for being one of the few who genuinely cared about her. She also thought of Father Rollo and how sad he would feel to know she had died in such a miserable way, all because she hadn’t followed his advice.

And she also thought of him, her nameless guest. Her greatest regret in that moment was that she would never be able to find out what his voice would have sounded like. It was foolish. Why was she thinking about something so trivial? Had her life really been so insignificant from beginning to end?

«Crunch, crunch, crunch»

In the middle of the small battle she was fighting with her eyelids to keep them from closing, she thought she heard unfamiliar screams and growls. Something splattered against her face, just as hot as the blood seeping through her fingers.

«Slurp, slurp, slupr»

What was that sound?

"Ah~, it's been a while since I last had a bite… This time, he really almost killed me."

A single voice echoes in the now silent forest. Yuu weakly lifts her eyes toward the direction where, just moments ago, her tormentors had been looking at her. She almost doesn't recognize the angelic, pale face covered in blood. The vital liquid dripped excessively from his lips, covering everything with the horrible metallic scent that it was known for.

"A bit bitter for my taste, but it'll be enough for now."

It was him.

No, impossible. She had to be hallucinating—a cruel and bleak trick her mind was playing on her before her permanent dismissal from life. It was unthinkable, especially because her guest didn’t have those strikingly prominent horns atop his head, nor did he have the physique to tear apart five seasoned hunters. And he certainly didn’t look like a vampire.

For starters, since when were those demonic entities so beautiful? Father Rollo had always described them as horrendous creatures—monstrous beings you’d recognize at first glance! Yes… ugly, dangerous, and… red-eyed.

But him… he was none of that. His eyes weren’t even red; they gleamed with the intensity of an emerald fully bathed in the midday sun.

"Look at you… And here I was, thinking I’d return your kindness by killing you painlessly."

He spoke, and Yuu’s ears caught his tone like a gentle caress, even in the midst of his condescension. There was no expression on his face, or at least none Yuu could make out when more than half of her bodily fluids had already painted the ground crimson. Besides, the sun had long since vanished, and the moonlight barely allowed her to make out faint shapes.

"I have lived through countless eras, and yet, not once have I fully understood humans. Weak, pathetic, selfish… I have never met one without these three traits. But you, foolish little human… you are, without a doubt, the stupidest one I have ever encountered."

Silence.

That seemed to be the conclusion he had reached as he wandered around her slowly cooling body, splattered with the remains of several people.

"H-Help… me…"

She didn’t even know if he was still there, much less if he would offer her anything after so openly insulting both her and her entire species in her final moments. But what else could she do? In the end, he was right. She was nothing more than a selfish creature who, no matter how miserable her life had been, refused to leave without clinging on and fighting just a little.

There was no response, but that didn’t surprise her either. She hadn’t taken him into her cabin expecting anything in return. Just having someone there for all those months—someone she used to warm herself during the nights when the ice nearly froze her bones, someone to talk to when the silence became unbearable… someone who, in his taciturn way, reminded her of what another person’s face looked like.

How pathetic. She had even shared her most personal thoughts with him when the solitude threatened to shatter what little sanity she had left. She expected nothing from him because, even in all that silence, she felt like she had already received too much.

Yes… in the end… she would die settling for scraps.

Just like her mother.

"Aren’t you just a pathetic little thing~?"

He cooed, his voice light, laughing shamelessly at her plea. But Yuu was already too weak to hear him.

She had the faint sensation of something sinking into her neck, but by then, her nerves had already stopped being of any use.

Her last memory as a human was how beautiful the moon looked at the turn of the season.

Tag list: @ghostlysyntaxed @nico707 @strayharmony943

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[springtyme]

Can we get pregnant reader and baby Spencer pls? Like seasson 1-5 ish 🥹 It would be so cute, i just know he would be so excited but also nervous to be a dad. Thank you ❤️ Love you sm! Your writing is always so amazing

𝐓𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐁𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 ♡

Thank you for the request, anon <3 This was such a cute idea!

Spencer Reid x afab!reader || Masterlist || Spencer playlist

summary: After a week apart Spencer is back home to navigate your early pregnancy together.  

word count: 2.1k

tags: Fluff. Comfort. Pregnant reader. No use of y/n.

The sun peeks through the blinds of you and Spencer’s shared apartment, casting a soft glow on the room. You lay in bed, your hand resting on your stomach, a small smile dancing on your lips. It has been almost two months since you discovered the little secret that is growing inside you. You haven’t really started to show yet, but it can’t be long until you do. 

Spencer is still asleep next to you, his unruly hair splayed across the pillow. You turn on your side, admiring the way his long eyelashes brush against his cheeks. He looks so peaceful in his slumber, and you can’t help but feel a rush of warmth in your chest from the sight of him. The faint sound of his breathing fills the quiet room, a soothing rhythm that lulls you deeper into your thoughts. It is a surreal experience, knowing that in just six months’ time, the two of you will become three. 

It was not planned, you’re both still young and navigating the complexities of life, Spencer’s job with the BAU demanding long hours and intense focus, not to mention the dangers that come along with it. There is a lot of uncertainty, but you’re happy. Very, very happy. There is no one you would rather do this with than him. 

He came home late last night from a case. He was gone for almost a week, and you have missed him terribly. You always miss him when he is away, of course, but the ache of his absence feels way more severe now, compounded by the whirlwind of emotions swirling in your mind about the future, as well as the hormones that seem to be amplifying just about everything. 

You shift slightly, careful not to disturb his slumber. Your fingers brush against the soft fabric of his t-shirt, the familiar scent of his shampoo wrapping around you like a warm hug. You can already picture him reading to the baby, the two of them snuggled together on the couch, his voice low and soothing as he spins tales of adventure and knowledge. 

You scoot closer to him, nestling into the crook of his arm, seeking comfort in his presence. The warmth radiating from his body is inviting, and you close your eyes for a moment, allowing yourself to breathe in the serenity of the morning.

The minutes pass slowly, and the sun continues to rise, illuminating the room with golden hues. Spencer shifts beside you, his arm wrapping around you instinctively, pulling you closer. You can’t help but chuckle softly, delighted by his subconscious need to keep you near. It’s a small gesture, but it speaks volumes about the kind of father he will be—protective, nurturing, and endlessly loving.

You sigh constantly as you settle further into his embrace. Spencer begins to stir slightly, his eyes slowly fluttering open, blinking sleepily as he processes the morning light until they finally focus on you, a soft, sleepy smile spreading across his face. “Good morning,” he murmurs, his voice thick with sleep but laced with warmth and affection.

“Good morning, handsome,” you reply, unable to suppress your smile in return. 

His smile widens, but you don’t miss the tiny glint of concern in his eyes. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m good, I think I’m finally over the morning sickness stage,” you say, “Just a little queasy here and there, but nothing I can’t handle. A little tired too, but I think that’s to be expected.”

Spencer’s gaze drops to where your hand rests, his brow furrowing slightly as he processes your words. “Tired, tired? Or… emotionally tired?” He tilts his head slightly, his hazel brown eyes searching yours with a mixture of concern and curiosity. 

“Maybe a bit of both. I mean, it’s hard to keep track of my feelings these days. Sometimes I feel like I’m on a rollercoaster, and I didn’t even buy a ticket,” you admit, smiling softly as you reach your hand out to brush a few errant strands of hair from his face and tuck them behind his ear. He grabs your hand, gently pulling it from his ear to his lips and placing a soft kiss on your palm. The gesture sends a flutter through your heart, a reminder of how deeply he cares for you and the little life you’re nurturing together. 

“I’m here for you, you know that, right?” Spencer says, his voice steady and reassuring. “Whatever you need, just tell me.”

You nod, feeling a swell of gratitude for him. “I know, and I appreciate it. Honestly, just having you here makes everything feel better. Even when you’re away, just knowing you’re out there doing what you do best… It’s comforting.”

Spencer’s expression softens, and he nods, understanding the weight of your words. “It’s tough being away from you, especially now... I wish I could be around more, be more present.” His brows knit, his gaze falling to your hand which he’s still holding, his thumb gently rubbing circles over your knuckles. “Honestly… I’m scared.” Spencer’s voice trails off, his vulnerability hanging in the air between you like a delicate thread.

You can see the internal struggle etched across his features, the way his mind races with possibilities and fears. “Scared..?” you prompt gently, encouraging him to share what’s weighing on his heart. A beat of silence unfolds between you as he gathers his thoughts. 

“Yeah,” he finally admits, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m scared about being a dad. That I’m not going to be good enough… I don’t know one thing about being a dad… My own dad didn’t teach me anything, besides how not to be one…” His voice cracks slightly. “And it’s not like I can just look it up in a book,” he continues, his eyes searching yours for understanding. You could argue against that, he has been buying a lot of parenting books, but you know what he really means. 

Your heart aches at his raw honesty. You turn to face him fully, propping yourself up on one elbow so you can look into his eyes. “You’re going to be an amazing dad. I know you will. You’re already doing so much for us, Spence. Just being you is enough. You’re so kind and intelligent, you have so much love to give. You’ve always been there for me, and I know you’ll be there for our baby too.”

He shakes his head slightly, the doubt still lingering in his expression. “But parenting is a whole different ball game. What if I don’t know how to handle everything? What if I don’t have the right answers?”

You lean closer, cupping his cheek with your hand. You know him well enough to know exactly how his mind works in situations like this, that he is about to go into overdrive, his mind racing with scenarios that haven’t even happened yet, letting his mind spiral into a whirlpool of ‘what-ifs’ and doubts, but you’re not going to let him do that now.  

“You don’t have to have all the answers. No one does. It’s okay to be uncertain. What matters is that you care, and that you’re willing to learn and grow. We’ll figure this out together, I promise.”

Spencer’s eyes soften at your words, though the worry doesn’t completely dissipate. “I just want to be the best for you both. I want to give our child everything I didn’t have.”

“Spence,” you say gently, “you are already giving them so much. You’re here, you care, and you’re already thinking about what it means to be a parent. That’s what matters. It’s not about being perfect; it’s about doing your best.”

He exhales slowly, processing your words, and you can see the tension in his shoulders begin to ease just a fraction. 

You lean in and kiss him softly, feeling the weight of the world lift just a little more with the tender touch of his lips against yours. When you pull away, you look into his eyes, wanting him to see the sincerity in your gaze. “We’ll make mistakes along the way, but we’ll learn from them. And we’ll always do the best we can.” 

Spencer nods slowly, his expression shifting from doubt to a tentative hope. For a while he just stares at you, openly and vulnerable, as if he’s trying to memorize every detail of your face. The sunlight continues to pour into the room, casting a warm halo around the two of you, and in that moment, everything feels right.   “You’re so beautiful,” he finally whispers, his voice filled with admiration. 

You feel a flush of warmth spread across your cheeks at his compliment, and you can’t help but smile, feeling cherished and loved. “You’re not too bad yourself, genius,” you tease gently, nudging him playfully.

Spencer chuckles softly, the sound a delightful melody that fills the air around you. “I still can’t believe we’re having a baby,” he says, his voice a mix of awe and disbelief. “It feels surreal.”

“Surreal is definitely one word for it,” you agree, your heart swelling with affection. 

“And you’re already so good at it,” he adds, his gaze unwavering as he takes in your expression.“You’re going to be an incredible mom.”

Your heart swells at his words, and you can feel the warmth spreading through you again. “I really hope so,” you say, your voice soft. 

A comfortable silence settles between you, filled only with the sounds of your breathing and the gentle hum of the city waking up outside your window. It’s a moment just for the two of you, where the world outside feels far, far away, leaving just the two of you and the little life growing inside you.

Spencer shifts slightly, propping himself up on one elbow to mirror your position. He places a warm palm on your stomach, his fingers splayed gently across your shirt. You can feel the heat of his hand seeping through the cotton, and a wave of comfort washes through you. “I can’t believe our little one is in there,” he murmurs, his eyes wide with wonder.

You nod, a smile breaking across your face. “I know, right?” You lean into his touch, reveling in the connection that’s forming not just between you and Spencer, but also between the baby and their father.

“Do you have a feeling about what they’re gonna be? Girl or boy?” 

“No,” you shake your head with a smile. “I know people say they usually have a feeling one way or another, but I honestly don’t know. I’m just excited to meet them, no matter what.”     

Spencer nods thoughtfully, his fingers still resting on your stomach, his brow furrows slightly in thought before he responds. “I think I’d like to have a little girl,” he says after a moment. His voice is soft, almost shy as he speaks.

You raise an eyebrow, a playful smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “Oh really? Why a little girl?”

“I mean, I will be happy no matter what—ecstatic, really. I already am. It’s just that when I picture them, it’s a girl.” Spencer replies, his thumb caressing your stomach softly. “I can already picture her sitting on my lap, just like how my mom used to do with me when she read me stories… I am pretty scared about all of this, but I’m also really, really excited. I want you to know that.” His voice is filled with sincerity, and you can see the determination in his eyes.

You can’t help but smile at the image he paints, a vision of a little girl nestled in his lap. It’s a beautiful thought, and you can already picture the kind of father he will be—patient, loving, and endlessly supportive. “I think you’d be amazing with a little girl,” you say, your voice laced with warmth. “And I don’t doubt that you’re excited. Not for one second.” You learn forward, softly pressing your lips against his in a soft, tender kiss. 

The kiss lingers. Spencer removes his hand from your stomach to instead cup your cheek. When you finally pull back, Spencer’s eyes are sparkling, filled with a mixture of awe and affection. “I can’t wait to watch you become a mom,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper, as if he’s afraid to break the magic of the moment. 

You nod, feeling a swell of gratitude that he’s chosen this journey with you. “And I can’t wait to see you as a dad.”

As the sun continues to rise, bathing the room in warmth and light, you feel an overwhelming sense of hope and love. You lean back into his embrace, resting your head against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart.

“Whatever happens,” you whisper, “we’ll do it together. Always together.”

“Always,” he echoes, wrapping his arms tighter around you.

[chokiechips]

Yandere Head Canons: Wally Darling

For some reason, yandere and obsessive Wally (ahhh pookie <3) seems so obvious, and i can't help but see it! It's so in his nature. Hope you enjoy!

Themes: yandere a smidge, lil fluff, delusional yandere, obsessive traits

I would think when he first meets you, it would probably be much later after the first episode of the Welcome to the Neighborhood series is aired.

He would probably know you as one of the new characters there, just a simple minded little person who has no clue what's going on behind the scenes and is just happy to be there.

He would be pretty alright with you at first like the other neighbors, maybe joining the other neighbors in their day-to-day activities, picking up mail at the post office, or having fun with Frank and Julie.

You start to notice him more often, and of course, being a great neighbor, you JUST have to get to know him. oh if only you knew how bad a decision this must be.

You feel excited at first, standing in front of the front door of Home, an apple pie in your hand, just to make peace with your neighbor and make a possible friend! Just in case, you talked with Julie and Frank and got his likes and dislikes, afraid of not wanting to upset this person you haven't talked to yet.

After a few light raps to the front door of Home, you'd wait there patiently, hoping that Wally Darling is in. Immediately he opened the door, and lo and behold, it's Wally!

He lets you in, and can't help but notice the delicious fragrance of apple wafting from your hands into his nostrils. An apple pie? How absolutely lovely of you!

After several hours of talking and conversing about the Neigborhood itself, and the puppets that live here, you can notice how Wally slowly lets himself get comfortable with you, allowing you to switch with him to sit on his iconic yellow chair.

But oh, the way you sat propped up happily in it, your thighs crossed just right , your bright smiling eyes looking up at him, Wally can't help but think you're just made for this. Nothing bizarre of course, maybe Julie or Barnaby could fare just as well, but there's something just so special about you, he can't seem to put his finger on it!

Over the coming days, the rest of the neighbors grow suspicious of the lengthy hours you'd spend at Home, the way Wally would casually let you sit next to him at his front yard and paint Home with him. His brush sitting primly in your hand as you make an attempt at painting Home, creating some sort of mess. But Wally can't help but find it endearing. Look how Home responds to your painting, to your splash of colors! Home may be a little friendly, but Wally can't help but feel his heart feel gooey and warm at the way Home interacts with you. Would you like to live in Home with him? Home would love that!

Soon, Wally and you become practically inseperable, best friends even! Wherever you go, he's always sure to follow. The way his eyes dilate at the sight of you, the paintings of you he'd paint without fail, the little accidents you'd cause (definitely not by Home) that Wally would come to help fix, a large smile on his face. Of course he would help! You're his darling neighbor! or maybe the future Darling?

On a particular night, Wally and you chat over the episode that occured that day, smiling ear to ear about the silly things that happened, and the lessons learned that day. As you talk, you don't seem to notice the way Wally would lean onto every word you said, the way Home would ensure nothing, no furniture made a single noise, as you spoke.

Your word was key.

Friendliest neighbor he may be to everyone, but to you he would be more than friendly. He would do anything for you.

Until the name Howdy Pillar slipped from your mouth as you spoke.

Wally hands trembled at the thought of it, a smile plastered on his face as the thought echoed through his mind, your rambles continuing to echo throughout the living room.

A strand or two fell from his hairdo, eyes widening at the thought.

Howdy? Why him? You, Wally and Home were practically soulmates at this point!

Maybe it was time for some proving. Of how friendly Wally Darling truly could be.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[munchhmm]

Hi, I was wondering, can you do a oneshot where reader sacrifices herself and the crew thinks she’s dead but she comes back like a week later and it turns out she didn’t die but she was severely injured and bedridden on the island where it all happened? It could be separated in 3 different parts where the reader is dating one of the monster trio in each part (if that makes sense) and we see their reaction along with the crews reaction to reader actually being alive. Sorry if this was loaded, I really like your writing!

Back To You Part One

i cried writing this it’s so sweet (,,>﹏<,,) thank you for the request and i hope you enjoy sweetness!

Pairings: Zoro x Gn!reader

Warnings: Angst, Mentions of death

Word count: About 1.8k ♡

Explosions from every angle rain down on the crew as they try to flee. The sky is dark with smoke and debris, making breathing a daunting chore.

Luffy protects everyone with his Gum-Gum Fruit powers, flinging pieces of stone and wood away without crushing a single person.

At some point, the enemy catches up, quickly dodging his own attacks as they pelt the ground below. You trail behind in the back, not being able to keep up as well as the others.

Things are looking like they’re going to get ugly. There’s no stopping or fighting back under these conditions. A small trip proves your theory correct as you fall to the ground with a loud thud.

Robin turns to try and help you to your feet, only to be blown away herself by a piece of roofing tile. The enemy grabs you by the neck, slamming your tired and bruised body into the ground—once, twice, three times—until there’s no more movement in your muscles.

Only the dark-haired Poneglyph reader sees what happens, screaming your name with no response. She has no choice but to run and catch up with the rest of the crew, as the enemy hadn’t noticed her and continued chasing the others.

The ground is cold and stiff. Your whole body aches with a pain that could only be described as shattering. It feels like hours have passed since being beaten into the dirt; in reality, it had only been about twenty or so minutes.

A small hand gently tugs on your shoulder, surprisingly strong enough to roll you over onto your back. Quiet murmurs from multiple people can be heard in the background, but the strain from the fight makes it impossible to focus.

After a few moments, your eyes begin to shut on their own, blacking out before you can even register what truly happened. When you do wake up, the surroundings are completely different. No more battlefield of bombs and shrapnel—instead, you are lying on a patch of lush green grass with flowering vines linking around every tree.

“Hello! Glad you’re awake, how ya feelin’?” a frail voice calls from behind, causing you to let out a small shriek.

“Oh! I didn’t mean to scare you! Actually, we wanted to thank you for fighting off that weirdo who keeps taking our flowers!”

When you turn around, there’s a tiny, palm-sized fairy standing with a tray of food relative to his size.

“Well, thank you for cleaning my wounds. I’m very appreciative. Have you happened to see any of my friends, though?”

The question comes out a bit more rushed than intended, causing the smaller fairy to tilt his head in confusion.

“We didn’t see anyone else around. I assumed you beat that guy up all by yourself!”

Now this is really bad. Where are the others? How long have you been away? Have they left you?

Back at a small camp a mile or so away from you, Zoro sits alone, making a small meal out of a fish he caught, only to burn the thing and curse at himself angrily.

It had been five days since you disappeared, no sign other than a piece of your torn top. Zoro keeps the fabric in his hand like it’s the most important item in the world. Everyone has assumed the worst, building a small grave in your honor and attempting to get Zoro to leave with them. He refuses, telling them to come back and get him in a month. During that time, he will do nothing but search for you and train.

His guilt wraps around his brain constantly during these few days— all he can think about is how he could’ve saved you. He should’ve saved you.

Searches along the path the crew ran come up with nothing. That’s when Zoro decides to get a lunch break in before continuing to look around for any signs, never giving up hope that you are still alive.

“Do you know how long I’ve been here for? I need to go look for my friends—they’re the ones who really defeated that guy stealing your flowers.”

You’re desperate at this point, hopefully explaining that Luffy was the one who beat the guy up would convince these fairies to help you look for the crew.

“It’s only been a few days! But if you’re in a hurry, then take this—I insist!”

The small fairy gives you a tiny bottle labeled For Emergencies Only. You tilt your head and look down at the glass jar sitting in your hand.

“When you drink it, you’ll be able to see anything that breathes up to half a mile ahead of you. It won’t be specific to your friends, but just look for anything human-shaped!”

A warm smile graces the fairy’s face as he opens the cork for you, inviting you to drink from it.

“This will help a lot—thank you so much!”

Within a second, the liquid is gone, drunk without a trace left.

Quickly, you thank as many of the fairies as you can, making sure to pay extra thanks to the ones who bandaged and healed you. A quick look around doesn’t show much promise, so you decide that going to the site of the wreckage is a good place to start.

Zoro packs his small setup and begins to walk around aimlessly. Getting lost is his specialty, but this time he tries taking extra caution since he can’t mess up the only chance of finding you.

The edge of the woods closest to the fight is where he found the piece of cloth that came from your shirt. Even after looking over that space a million times, he tries again in case he may have missed something, hoping for any positive sign.

The small divot where your body had laid is still imprinted into the ground. It looks like every other spot around the site, but if anyone had to know that’s where it happened, it would be you.

Looking closely around the surroundings and inspecting the last place Robin had been seen—only feet from where you had been five days ago—comes up with nothing.

When suddenly, you hear a rustling in the leaves.

Assuming it to be a squirrel or other wild animal, you pay no mind at first—until it gets closer and louder.

Finally, you look up and see the outline of what looks to be a person, thanks to the magic of the potion your new fairy friends gave you.

A large sigh of relief leaves your lips—thinking the worst the whole time was finally over.

“Luffy! Zoro! Is that you?!”

A voice calls out, and the green-haired man immediately recognizes it. His heart feels like it’s able to beat again, a wave of happiness taking over his instincts as he runs toward your voice, pushing past tree branches and shrubs like they’re blocking his path to all the riches in the world—and to him, they are.

Finally, Zoro sees you through a small opening. He calls out your name, and now you can see him as well, tears streaming quicker than thought possible.

He embraces you so tightly that the wounds covering the bones in your chest ache horribly—but you don’t care. All that matters is not being forgotten.

“Why the hell did you scare me like that? Everyone thought you were dead!”

His words sound harsh, but his tone is scared, shown by the trembling hands reaching to cup your face.

“I had no choice. I tripped, and Robin got hurt trying to save me. I couldn’t risk getting anyone else involved.”

Your words come out strained and fearful, worried Zoro might actually be upset with you.

“Never mind any of that. Are you alright?”

His voice is calmer now, the grip on your shoulders softening.

“I’m fine, I found a group of fairies that helped me…”

The explanation would have to wait for another time. Even if Zoro has relaxed a bit, you haven’t—still clinging to him like he could disappear at any moment.

He gets the memo, making a weird face at the word “fairies,” but chooses not to press it right now.

“Where are the others?” you ask while looking up at Zoro from his chest.

“They left for a bit. They’ll be back in a few weeks for us.”

He never outright says how the crew felt, but you know by his words. You know that he stayed behind while they left—not because they didn’t care, of course they did—it was because they couldn’t stand the idea of finding you dead.

Neither could Zoro, but he would never forgive himself until he knew for sure.

A few days of relaxing mornings and rigorous training go by when you find the mound of dirt graced with flowers and handwritten notes pinned to a small wooden stake.

Zoro freezes when he sees you looking at your own memorial, forgetting that the crew had set it up with tears and screams a week or so before.

“What do you think this is? It’s beautiful,” you say with a small smile, not wanting to disturb the area.

After Zoro explains what it is and that the others had done it for you, more tears threaten to fall from your eyes.

Zoro stiffens for a moment, then wraps a loose arm around you.

“They really care about me,” the words come out in a whisper, almost too quiet to be heard.

“Yeah, they do. But I care about you more,” he says quietly, pressing a kiss to your temple.

Time passes, and the Sunny docks along the shore as promised exactly a month later, planning to welcome Zoro with compassion and empathy.

Instead, they’re met with both of you, joy overflowing the deck as everyone runs to greet each other.

Robin is the first to give you a hug—tighter than her usual ones.

Sanji, of course, makes a half-hearted comment toward Zoro, causing them to butt heads immediately after reuniting.

A celebration takes place that night, telling stories on both sides for hours about what’s been going on during the past few weeks. Drinks and food are passed around while Brook plays a lively tune to match the mood.

You keep a hand on Zoro’s as his other wraps around your hip. He leans to your ear and whispers,

“I told you I had faith in you.”

He’s never been good with words, but after this big of a scare, he’d do anything to see that smile come to your face just like it is now—and forever.

[genshingorlsrevengeance]

Can I request Herta with an S/O who's a massive tsundere?

(H:SR) Herta with a tsundere S/O

Oh, what's that? S/O was being stubborn and getting too embarrassed to say what's on their mind?

Funny/Cute as it was, Herta doesn't have time for this.

Do you think such a beautiful, smart, and young genius like her has time to wait for S/O to stop twiddling their thumbs to say they wanna hold hands?!

Hell no! That's a waste of time for her, AND S/O!

That being said, many people ask: "Madam Herta, if you find that part about S/O annoying, why did you even agree to be with them?"

And her response is rather simple.

(Herta) "And that is any of your business, how, exactly?"

The way Herta gets around this little quirk of S/O's: Isn't it obvious? Just directly bring up whatever to where they can't beat around the bush.

(Herta) "I need a test subject and need to spend time with someone who can actually listen, S/O. Dinner will be made on time, probably."

(S/O) "...Shouldn't you ask if I want to be a test subject?"

Herta simply raised an eyebrow at S/O. They opened their mouth to say something else, but it's not like spending time with their (definitely young and attractive) girlfriend was the worst thing.

Even if there was at least a 50% chance of them imploding.

(S/O) sigh "Alright, what are we doing?"

And being fair to S/O, Herta doesn't really mind nor care of their blushy-attitude that they give her.

If anything, it makes them a little more fun to be around. Heavens know that Herta is a handful to be around, the least she could do for her beloved (test subject) was to return the favor.

Alongside Asta, and some of the Genius Society, S/O was also a voice of reason to stop some insane plan or research she had, lest the entire Herta Space Station blinks into some god-forsaken star, or some other freak abomination.

It also puts S/O's social skills to the test! They can't be a tsundere if they need to tell Asta that Herta was harnessing the power of a star to do Aeons knows what.

And that was the least of S/O's concerns. What they really had to worry about was when she was bored and had free time.

(Herta) "Hm...While I'm here on the Station, S/O, we need to get you a new set of clothes!"

(S/O) "You're not going to make me go into your wardrobe again, right?"

(Herta) "Well, I do intend for you to help me sometime in the next three years, so no, obviously. But that being said..."

She snaps her fingers and immediately, several puppets burst into the room.

(S/O) "You didn't need to snap to summon them."

(Herta) "Has it occurred to you that I do things because I like to, S/O?"

(S/O) "I think that's one of the first things I learned about you..."

(Herta) "Exactly! Now, let's have you visited by the Emanator of Beauty!"

About an hour passes and the entire room is devoured by rolling racks of clothes, with even some of the puppets acting as Coat Hangars, with their arms out-stretched into a T-Pose.

All the while, Herta is sitting on a floating key, trying to decide which shade of purple matched S/O the best, researching some other things on the side of a tablet.

With S/O checking themselves in a mirror, also held by a smaller Herta.

Herta appeared busy with the many things occupying her, S/O stealing a glance from the mirrors and quietly smiling to themselves.

(Herta) "...It'll last longer if you take a picture, y'know."

S/O shifted their eyes away and blushed, mumbling something under their breath much to her amusement.

(S/O) "D-Don't tease me!"

(Herta) "Hm? And you are going to do what exactly? If I continue to do so?"

Suddenly, Herta was by S/O's side, giving them the smirk they (loved) were irritated by so much.

(S/O) "I-I..."

(Herta) "Ah, get flustered. Naturally."

Herta chuckles to herself as she hands the outfit to S/O to try on, finally stepping back onto the ground and checking both herself and her lover in the mirror.

(Herta) "Now, chop chop! Try it on!"

(S/O) "Will this even look good on me?"

(Herta) "I'll ignore the doubt you have in my fashion sense, which is a crime against me I'll have you know, and say, obviously! I'm the one who chose it, and you're the one wearing it."

S/O's face heated up from Herta's own flavor of compliment and took the outfit, preparing to change again.

All the while, Herta just smiled to herself, and turned away for them to change.

She was still looking, and S/O knew that, but for the sake of their prideful heart, they chose not to say anything.

But...admittedly, S/O loved the attention, and Herta knew that damn well.

It was nice to have someone that could understand each other in a more intimate way, and it went both ways.

...Most of the time, anyways.

Its kind of hard to view your girlfriend the same way once she harnesses the power of a nearby star with some unfathomably complicated device just to see if she could and prove some random-ass researcher four hundred sectors away wrong.

S/O was prideful in not admitting they liked to kiss her, but holy shit that was kind of a whole other level.

===

A/N: Do you guys tell how much I love writing Herta? She's so damn funny. I always knew I had a taste for insane brunette scientists (See Hange), and DAMN Herta scratches that itch.

[whateveriwant]

I came across this story a while back and when I saw it, I couldn’t help but immediately think how Task Force 141 coded it was lol

And so I’d like to think something similar would go like this with our guys. (Told from Simon’s partner’s POV but all the female s/o’s are unnamed.)

Fresh off a difficult mission in which more than one close call was had, the 141 are practically kissing the tarmac when they touch back down at home base. After nearly three months in a war-torn wasteland surrounded by nothing but other dirty, sweaty men, the guys are all eager to get away from this sausage party and head back to their sweethearts for a little TLC, if you know what I mean.

Cut to several weeks later and the 141 are all gathering again for some reason – say, a party at Soap’s house to mark yet another one of his trips around the sun. It’s a small get-together, just the guys and their respective partners, but no matter the size of the guest list, there’s always excitement abound at the MacTavish residence.

You and Simon arrive right at the hour of the celebration (very literal that one is), and with a supportive hand placed at the small of your back, you approach the house together. Immediately upon entering, you’re being accosted left, right, and center by your overly genial hosts. After so many hugs, cheek kisses, and “Ye brought me a gift? Och, ye shouldn’t have, bonnie!”s you feel like you could pass out, when asked about your poison of choice for the evening, you opt for a plain water.

Strike one.

While Johnny doesn’t seem to think much of your very-unlike-you request, his girlfriend, on the other hand, is not so quick to let it go.

“Water?” She blinks in mild perplexity. “Not wine? You feeling alright, hun?” she teases, but it has your stomach leaping up to your throat.

You have to swallow back your nervous energy before explaining, “Y-Yeah. I just– I’m driving tonight, is all.” A lie. Simon hasn’t let you even think about getting behind the wheel since you presented him with that little plastic stick all those weeks ago.

But luckily for you, your excuse appears to throw her off the scent, and when Johnny returns a moment later with the proffered beverage, you’re relieved she doesn’t press the matter further.

Tonight is not about me, you remind yourself of the conversation you had with Simon earlier. Though you both are planning on breaking the news to everyone someday soon, here at Johnny’s birthday bash is neither the time nor the place to do so.

As you move further into the house to greet the other guests, you stick close to Simon’s side, sipping idly from your glass, completely missing the way your hostess’ inquisitive gaze lingers on you.

~~~

The next couple of hours are filled to the brim with lots of mingling, a little mayhem, and (in your case) multiple trips to the bathroom. It’s on one of these trips that, as you’re exiting, you nearly collide head-first with another party-goer.

“Oh, sorry, dear,” Mrs. Price says, stepping aside to let you through. You smile politely and begin to shift around her when she interjects, “Actually, I’m glad I ran into you,” which has you swiftly pausing in your step. “I meant to say earlier, but I love this dress you’re wearing!”

You glance down at your outfit – the flouncy dress you’d been saving for a special occasion such as this. “Oh, thanks! It’s new,” you tell her. Soon all of your clothes will have to be new to accommodate your growing abdomen.

“And your skin,” she continues, an awed look to her as she admires your complexion. “Are you using some new products or something? Because you are glowing!”

That observation – really, the mental association to that word in particular – has you gulping anxiously. “Just… been… drinking a lot of water.” A not entirely untrue statement; though, you figure there’s a better explanation as to why your skin and hair and nails may look healthier than normal. “You look amazing as well,” you remark, and she really does. There’s this vibrancy about her that you’ve noticed throughout the evening.

“Thank you! I’d say it’s my new lipstick, but really, I think it’s just nice not having to worry about the kids for one night,” she chortles, referring to her godsend of a sitter. “Ooh, and speaking of.” She nods toward the unoccupied bathroom. “Will you excuse me for a moment? Your bladder is never quite the same after having kids, right?”

Don’t I know it, you snicker to yourself as she slips past you.

Strike two.

~~~

Throughout the course of the night, you find yourself continually flocking to the hors d’oeuvres spread in the lounge, grabbing everything that looks appealing and avoiding those that threaten to make the former come back up. At some point during your grazing, you find Kyle’s fiancée has joined you. As you chat with her between bites, after a while, you notice the curious expression on her face, almost like she’s holding back from saying something that’s dying to burst forth.

“What?” you prompt.

“Hmm?”

“That look.” You mimic the look she’s giving you. “What’s that for? Did I drop something on myself?” you joke, quickly checking your top for any wayward crumbs.

When you meet her eye again, she’s still scrutinizing you with that sharp stare. After a beat, she sighs. “Sooo… Look, if I’m way off base here, totally feel free to tell me to hit the road, okay?”

Far from the conversation you were just having about your favorite chip shops, her sudden switch in topic and tone has you chuckling awkwardly. “What are you talking about?” you ask around another bite of food.

“... You’re pregnant, aren’t you?”

Strike three. You’re out.

You’re caught so off guard by the question that you find yourself rapidly plunged into a nasty coughing fit. Luckily, the music playing in the background is a decibel or two below the ‘having the neighbors call the police’ threshold, because otherwise you’d draw the whole party’s attention from the ruckus you’re making.

“Huh?” you manage to choke out, reaching for your water to take a life-saving sip. “W-W-What makes you think I’m pregnant?”

“Well, aside from the fact that you just inhaled the whole platter of gherkins by yourself, your man over there has not taken his eyes off you all night.” She looks past you pointedly, giving you no other choice but to swivel your head in intrigue. And it’s only when you see what it is she’s speaking of that you understand how she came to that very shrewd conclusion.

Across the party, far beyond your normal bubble of awareness, Simon stands with his eyes dead locked on you. Though he’s sandwiched between his fellow task force members, he appears to not be even a little bit engaged in the conversation around him. His attention is focused on you and you alone.

“Not that that’s much different than normal, but there’s something extra… protective about the way he’s been looking at you tonight,” Kyle’s fiancée says.

When Simon notices you looking back at him, he quirks his eyebrows questioningly, as if to ask “Everything alright?”. In response, you flash a weak smile and raise your glass in a cheers, reassuring him that things are fine and there’s no need to dart over to your side like he looks ready to do at any moment.

Have the both of you been that obvious? You thought you’d been doing a bang-up job keeping your secret under strict lock and key, but clearly that’s not the case. And if one person was able to figure it out, you worry if perhaps she’s not alone.

With your mind slowly unraveling right there in the MacTavish’s living room, vaguely you register the sound of a voice as it continues to thrum through your skull. “Plus, I think some pregnant women get this sixth sense when they’re amongst peers.”

Have you been dropping clues about your pregnancy as subtle as a bomb all night? Let’s see, there was that water incident with Johnny’s girlfriend, and that run-in with Mrs. Price outside the bathroom, and – oh! – that time you felt an itch on your belly and proceeded to scratch it in front of everyone.

Oh, God, did you let your hand linger on your stomach for too long? Did you start unconsciously rubbing your bump? Did you–

Wait a minute.

“‘Amongst peers’…?” you mutter to yourself. The words swirl through your mind like a fog, making your brow furrow in confusion. You’re trying to make sense of it, your brain feeling like it’s working at half-speed, until suddenly, you’re spinning back around towards Kyle’s fiancée’s to spout, “Are you pregnant, too?!”

A coy smile slowly works its way across her face, and when she nods, you practically bounce out of your shoes, lunging forward to envelop her in a hug.

“Oh my God! I can’t believe it!” You pull back from her, grinning just as wide as she is. “How far along are you?”

“How far along are you?” she counters with a laugh. “When did you find out? When are you due? I want to know everything.”

And so, bringing your hand up to softly caress your belly, you do exactly that.

You tell her how you had suspicions less than a month after Simon returned home, but it took no less than four tests to officially confirm it for yourself. You tell her about the scan you had not too long ago, and how by your doctor’s estimation, you’re just under 13 weeks. You tell her that your due date is set for the 14th of June, but that you’re not marking your calendar just yet because how accurate are those predictions, really?

It’s at that last point that her jaw visibly drops. “Get out of here!” she hoots. “Mine’s the 15th!”

So not only are you both pregnant at the same time, you’re also due at the same time. How serendipitous is that!

As you two continue to talk, bonding over your shared circumstance, you can’t help the giddy feeling that floods you as you envision all the playdates and parties to come with these future best friends you’re carrying.

~~~

“We just wanted to thank ye again fer coming oot to celebrate with us.”

The whole party’s gathered around the living room, piled onto the sofas and armchairs as they listen to your host speak. You’re sat beside Simon, resting a hand on his knee while his arm is draped across the back of the couch behind you. Overall, you’ve had a nice time tonight. Aside from that one unplanned reveal you had earlier, things went about how you expected.

“We’re both glad ye all could be here fer this.” Johnny does a sweeping look around the group – from you and Simon, over to the Prices, and finally to Kyle and his fiancée. “And before we let ye go, there’s one more thing we’d like to share.” He then turns to face his girlfriend, carefully reaching over to take her hand within his.

As the two share a fond look with each other, almost imperceptibly, you see him give her fingers a light squeeze of encouragement. Meanwhile, the rest of the party has fallen into a hush of anticipation. It’s like everyone’s holding their breaths at the same time, the room so quiet you could hear a pin drop, until–

“We’re having a baby!”

You’re not sure from whose mouth the gasp falls, but just like that, the silence is instantly broken.

As a round of congratulations and well wishes gets eagerly passed the couple’s way, you feel an intense gaze burning a hole into the side of your head. You turn to see Kyle’s fiancée looking over at you, her eyes widened to convey a surprise that mirrors your own.

Not just one or two but three women at this party are all pregnant at the same time? What are the odds of that?

“Been wantin’ to say it all night. Cannae believe I made it this long,” Johnny chuckles. He and his girlfriend beam like dual suns as they soak in the congratulations another moment, their joy nearly infectious, before Johnny adds with great enthusiasm, “But the wait’s nae much longer now. Prepare to meet bairn MacTavish this June 11th!”

If you weren’t gobsmacked enough as is, you swear your stomach just fell out of your butt.

The hand resting on Simon’s leg immediately tenses, and when you hear a rumbling voice mutter, “Bloody hell,” you turn to look at him, only to realize that wasn’t him speaking at all.

All eyes are rapidly directed over to Price, and when the captain realizes what he’s just said aloud, he quickly slaps a hand over his mouth, embarrassed. “Sorry, I– That came out wrong,” he says, shaking his head in apology. With everyone now staring at him with varying degrees of confusion, John begins to explain himself, hoping to save a little face. “It’s just… I-I-I’m just surprised because the missus and I are… Well, we’re…” He looks over to his wife for help bailing him out, which, after a beat, she mercifully does.

“We are also expecting,” she says with a gentle tone.

Again, you find your eyes flicking over to Kyle’s fiancée. Her expression is just as dumbfounded as yours is, though hers reads with a hint of amusement behind it.

“Oh, that’s amazing!” Johnny’s girlfriend claps her hands together. “How far along?”

“I think that’s what’s put John in a bit of a shock,” Mrs. Price confesses, reaching over to lay a hand on her husband’s forearm. “Right now I’m about 12 and a half weeks, which puts my due date around the 11th of June.”

Jesus H. Christ.

Four women, four pregnancies, four due dates occurring all at the same time.

What was in the water on that last mission?

Your head is almost starting to feel fuzzy from all this new information you’ve just taken in. As you sit there trying to absorb everything, a sudden laugh coming from a few spaces away breaks you from your stupor. You turn towards the direction of the sound, finding yourself facing Kyle’s fiancée once more.

“This is so wild,” she laughs to herself, shaking her head in delighted astonishment. She turns to her partner. “Ky? You want to…?”

Briefly, Kyle peers around to see how the party’s attention is drawn to the two of them now. With a chuckle of his own, he shrugs a shoulder. “Well, since everyone else is sharing.” He looks back to his fiancée, his eyes sparking with admiration. “Go ahead, love.”

When she announces, “I’m also pregnant, and also due mid-June,” you’re surprised the roof doesn’t blow off the house.

By now, the excitement in the air is palpable. The room feels like it’s buzzing, like there’s an electrical current coursing through the floor, like you’ve all just witnessed a lightning strike hit the same spot three times in a row.

And then, as if on instinct, all eyes turn to you.

Feeling half a dozen pairs of eyes suddenly fall on you makes your heart rate instantly spike. Nervously, you reach out for Simon, and he lets you slip your clammy hand into his solid one.

You turn to look at him, and for a moment you both just hold each other’s gazes in complete silence. Though no words are exchanged between you two, almost telepathically, you’re able to communicate the concern that’s been weighing down on your head all night.

Should you say it? Should you reveal the secret you’d been trying so desperately to keep to yourselves?

When Simon nods faintly, just enough for you to be able to catch, you know what his answer is, and then there’s nothing holding you back any longer.

“Stop it,” Johnny guffaws, picking up the signals you two are sending each other. “Dinnae tell me ye as well.”

The sheer excitement in his voice makes you a touch bashful, and you shrug, “Guilty.”

At the confirmation, the widest grin you think you’ve ever seen proceeds to split Johnny’s cheeks. “Alright, LT!” He gives Simon a firm clap on the back, almost seeming more joyful for his lieutenant than he was for himself. Johnny then bounds to his feet, picking up his glass of Scotch to hoist it high in the air. “I think this calls fer a toast, yeah?” He waves for everyone to join him. It takes a second for the rest of the party to follow suit, but once you’re all standing up, drinks raised, he leads the cheers, “To the future four members of the Task Force 141!”

As everyone goes to take a sip to the health and future of your children, you find yourself halting. Now that the cat’s out of the bag, you don’t want to leave anything unsaid, and so you can’t help yourself from blurting out–

“Five.”

The glasses pause mid-air. Again, everyone turns their attention towards you.

“Pardon?” someone asks.

Where you’d previously been shy about your condition, now an impish grin tugs at your mouth. “Five,” you repeat, and for emphasis, you hold up two fingers, wiggling them back and forth.

If you thought Simon was thrilled when you’d told him, that’s got nothing on Johnny’s reaction now. You only hope he can get the Scotch stains out of his carpet before it’s ruined forever.

[redheadrizzler]

HeadLock - BRIAN MOSER/RUDY COOPER

in which - you find out about him.. the real him

The past few months had been a whirlwind—bodies piling up, the Ice Truck Killer always a step ahead, and long nights at Miami Metro trying to put the pieces together. Through it all, there was Rudy. Charming, intelligent, and the one person who made you forget about the horrors of your job.

His place had always been a sanctuary for you. Well, almost. There was one part of the house—one door—that remained locked no matter how many nights you spent tangled in his sheets. You never questioned it. Maybe you should have.

You lay on Rudy’s couch, stretched out, your head resting on his lap as he absentmindedly ran his fingers through your hair. The TV was on, but neither of you were really paying attention. You had been talking about work, about the case, about the Ice Truck Killer—until Rudy had smoothly steered the conversation away. He always did that.

“Do you ever get tired of it?” he asked, his voice low, thoughtful.

You turned your head slightly to look up at him. “Of what?”

“The bodies. The investigations. Living in death all the time.” His fingers traced slow circles against your scalp. “Doesn’t it ever feel… suffocating?”

You exhaled, thinking about it. “Sometimes,” you admitted. “But I like what I do. It feels like… balance. Justice.”

Rudy hummed, his fingers stilling for just a second before continuing. “Justice,” he echoed, almost amused. “And what if justice isn’t always so black and white?”

You frowned. “What do you mean?”

He smiled down at you, but there was something unreadable in his eyes. “Just a thought,” he said lightly. “Some people are beyond saving. Some people deserve what’s coming to them.”

You let out a short laugh. “Okay, Dexter,” you teased.

His smile didn’t falter. If anything, it grew.

“You spend too much time around him,” he murmured, brushing a strand of hair from your face.

You shrugged. “He’s my friend.”

“Mm.” Rudy leaned down, pressing a kiss to your temple. “I don’t like sharing.”

You rolled your eyes, smirking. “Oh, please. You’re acting like you’re some possessive psycho.”

His lips twitched at that. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

Your stomach fluttered at his tone, at the way he looked at you—like he already knew.

“You’re ridiculous,” you muttered, shifting so you were facing him fully. “What’s with all the dark questions tonight?”

Rudy shrugged. “Just trying to understand you.”

“You already do.”

“Do I?” He traced his thumb along your bottom lip, gaze locked onto yours. “I wonder what you’d do if I wasn’t who you thought I was.”

You arched a brow. “Like if you were secretly a criminal mastermind?”

Rudy chuckled. “Something like that.”

You smirked. “I’d probably be too blinded by how much I like you to notice.”

His expression didn’t change. He just studied you, as if testing how much truth was in your words.

“Good to know,” he murmured.

A comfortable silence settled between you before Rudy’s fingers trailed down your arm, his touch light, teasing. “Stay the night?”

“You know I will.”

He smiled at that. But behind it, there was something else. Something you couldn’t quite place.

And you were too in love with him to see it.

As you fade in his touch and exhaustion gets the best of you. You wake up an hour later.. it was quiet and you were no longer on rudy. You tilt your head and you look around the house and see the door slightly ajar. Curiosity pushed you forward, your bare feet silent against the cold floor. The moment you peeked inside, your breath hitched.

Rudy stood over a table, his hands slick with blood, a severed leg gripped tightly in his grasp. His expression was eerily calm, methodical, as he worked. The air smelled of iron and something deeper—something rotten.

Your body stiffened, your pulse pounding in your ears as you tried to step back without making a sound. But then—

“You’re awake,” he said, his voice cold, detached.

Your stomach dropped. His eyes met yours, calculating, and then—movement.

You turned to run, but he was faster. Strong arms wrapped around your neck, pulling you back into a headlock. Panic should have set in. You should have screamed, fought—but you didn’t.

You loved him. Too much. Enough to blind yourself to the reality of what he was.

As his grip tightened, your breath hitched for a different reason. It was wrong, it was dangerous—but the way he held you, the control, the power—it ignited something dark inside you.

His breath was steady against your ear. “You’re not fighting,” he murmured, almost amused.

Because you trusted him. Even now.

And that was the most dangerous thing of all.

a/n - i know it isn’t as good but i can’t find any fics anymore 💔 so i had to do them myself

[lvlybin]

slow sex with gyuvin which turns into rough, deep sex when he sees the bulge on your lower tummy from how big his cock is inside you. him towering over your smaller body when he pushes you into the mattress with the sheer force of his thrusts, soft little whines and squeal and cute little squeaks coming out of you. him continuing even after you’ve cum and making you unravel over and over again while he hasn’t even cum once, and then he finally cums deeeep inside of you, tip kissing your cervix, planting little pecks on your forehead, praising you for taking it so well and being such a good girl.

damn this is the MOST i’ve ever yapped omfg i think i’m insane 😭 you can tell how fucking horny i amm there is a severe lack of dom gyuvin on the internet

-🍓

cw p in v unprotected sex, rough-ish sex, cumming inside, size kink, praise kink, overstimulation, mentions of oral (f!receiving) and fingering, belly bulge, dom!Gyuvin, Gyuvin calls reader puppy 18+ MDNI

✉️ you're actually insane, this is everything. How can I even add anything to this when it's already perfect T-T

When Gyuvin doms, he can either be a tease or overwhelming in the best way. This night had started with him in that teasing mood. Hours of him slowly eating you out and carefully fingering you, stretching you out and getting you ready to take his huge length. By the time he’s done, you’re trembling softly, pussy swollen from his kisses and gentle nips, and any slight move of his fingers has you cumming around them. Gyuvin’s obsessed with when he gets you like this: extremely sensitive and willing to do anything if it means he’ll keep touching you. 

“You’ve done this before, nothing different about tonight, baby…” Gyuvin whispers as he presses a kiss to your temple, rubbing his full palm against your pussy in an attempt to soothe you. “Don’t get shy on me now, puppy, you asked for this,” he says, a small smirk on his lips as a sharp gasp leaves you when the leaking tip of his veiny cock is pressed against your folds. He has to pin your hips down to keep you from running away from the stretch as he slowly sinks into you. Gyuvin can’t help but moan. There’s something so perfect about the way you fit with him, how your warmth envelops his entire length (even if it does take a bit of work), and every time he’s intimate with you, he can’t help but get lost in the feeling of how much he loves you.

He tries to be gentle at first, easing you into things with slow rolls of his hips. He pulls all the way out, leaving his throbbing tip inside of you before pushing back in, making sure to angle his hips in just the way you like. When you let out a small whimper, hands reaching up for his shoulders, Gyuvin knows you want him closer. So he presses his forehead against yours, your noses brushing as your arms wrap around his neck and as he continues his deep thrusts. 

At least, until he glances down to see the small bulge in your lower abdomen every time he fully sinks into you. That makes something in him snap. You have to be ready to take him, right? He’d been taking care of you for hours.

“Hold on, baby.” 

The next thrust has you crying out from how deep he feels, over the spots he hits and you dig your nails into his skin. Angry, red marks decorate Gyuvin’s broad back as he fucks you hard and fast, just the way he wants to. It’s not long before you’re close, and when his large hand presses down against where his dick is buried inside of you, you’re cumming hard. Things don’t stop there though. One orgasm from you is never enough for Gyuvin. 

“Make a mess, puppy. Want you to be so wet that my cock can’t even stay inside of you without slipping out…” And you listen to him. You lose track of how many orgasms you have, lost in the continuous loop of pleasure before your dazed mind registers the sounds Gyuvin makes before he cums. Low, whiny moans and you’re sure you sound just as desperate as him when the tip of his dick hits your cervix. The sensation has you reeling, your juices squirting around his cock as he finally cums, filling your womb with his warmth. 

“So good f’me, baby, you’re… God, you’re perfect.” You can barely keep your eyes open as a sweet kiss is pressed to your forehead. “My good girl,” Gyuvin mumbles, “You can take a few more rounds… Yeah?”

[grinnames]

SMG4 Godbox AU Chapter 1: Awakening, Overtakening

The inside of the spaceship was quiet, and the only thing that could be felt was overwhelming dread, and silent prayers that SMG4 and SMG3 were still alive.

It had been about an hour since SMG1 and SMG2 had blown up the Godbox and everything and everyone within it. It had been 20 minutes since the two of them regained consciousness and frantically got back into their damaged and dented ship, searching for any survivors. It had been 30 minutes since they had gotten a call from the Mushroom Kingdom, signaling that everyone was alright and accounted for, and that Mario had miraculously survived the blast, though the red plumber was still missing. It had been 10 minutes since they had found Melonie’s burned and unconscious body floating next to SMG0’s corpse. They had hastily pulled her into the ship and hooked her up to a convenient life-support machine, where she lay in a fitful rest, her divine magic whirring and buzzing to keep her alive.

SMG1’s eyes were laser-focused on the monitors, scanning for any signs of life. His hopes were thin, and he highly doubted that the two SMGs had survived the blast. But they were inside the Godbox when the meme-bomb hit, and the lid suddenly slamming shut could have at least shielded them from the worst of the blast. Immense guilt weighed on his heart, but he swallowed his feelings and pushed forward. He had to be strong. If they were dead, he would take full responsibility, and do whatever he could to make sure they were remembered.

SMG2 was the one piloting the ship, ever so often glancing back at his partner in concern. Guilt also weighed on his heart. He really saw SMG3 and SMG4 as his students. Being their teacher brought him so much joy. He loved that he could play a role in training the next generation of meme guardians that would protect the universe. He never wanted them to sacrifice their lives. He felt like he had failed them. If they were still alive, he hoped that they would forgive him, and that they could continue training and becoming stronger… together.

After several, long, anxiety-wracked minutes, the monitor suddenly let out a faint beep. SMG2 immediately perked up.

“They’re- THEY’RE ALIVE!” he exclaimed, his voice cracking with a happy sob.

SMG1 was stunned, and slightly smiled in disbelief. “I… I don’t believe it! But they’ve got to be hurt! We have to hurry!” 

Without a second to spare, SMG2 slammed on the gas, and the ship zoomed in the direction of the life signal. 

...

SMG3 groggily opened his eyes. Every cell in his body felt… strange, almost unfamiliar. He knew that this was still his body, but it was as if someone had barged inside and rearranged all the furniture, and maybe also vandalized the walls with obscenities. He felt so, so cold, but he didn’t feel the need to curl in on himself. No, he didn’t need any warmth at all. 

He could hear the roar of an engine approaching. He turned his head to the side, and winced as bright lights blinded his vision. It was SMG1 and SMG2’s ship. 

...

SMG2 stared in shock and confusion at the sight before him. SMG1 also looked on in shock, but his eyebrows also furrowed in suspicion. 

Just outside their ship, illuminated by the ship’s headlights, were the sources of SMG3’s and SMG4’s life signals, fast asleep and adrift in the cosmos. 

“...Neither of them have any visible wounds…”  began SMG1, unsure of where to even start analyzing. 

“...Ahah, well at least they’re in one piece…?” SMG1 quipped, trying to stay optimistic. “Aside from the, um, random redesign? I think they’re gonna make it!” 

“Why are they… Asian? Actually no, that’s besides the point! How did this happen?!” SMG1 rubbed his head, growing more and more puzzled by the second. 

There was no evidence that they had just been hit with a nuke. Heck, even their clothes were unharmed, and not a single hair was out of place. They had the signature overalls, gloves, caps, and rotund frame of their avatar, but that was where the similarities ended. 

First of all… they were indeed Asian now. SMG4’s new face was smooth and lacked any facial hair. His face almost looked like a doll’s. SMG3 shared the same face, but a short black beard replaced his old mustache. 

SMG3’s color scheme had changed. He kept his black overalls, but his shirt and cap were a dark purple now. 

Their shoes now had pointed heels and toes. Their gloves were longer, and extended past their forearms and nearly reached their shoulders. And finally, each of them sported red, glowing rings that cuffed their wrists, ankles, and neck. 

SMG2 nudged the ship closer, reaching for the airlock. “Let’s hurry up and bring them home, we have to make sure that they’re really ok!” he chirped.

SMG1 grabbed SMG2’s shoulder. “Wait, 2, something doesn’t feel right. I don’t know what it is, it’s just a gut feeling, but look at those rings-”

Before SMG1 could finish his sentence, SMG3 blinked awake and stared right at them. His eyes squinted in the bright light, and widened with recognition. 

SMG2 shook himself, and smiled reassuringly. He switched on the ship’s intercom. “SMG3! Hey… you’re ok! We’re not sure why, but we’re going to get you two home, and we’ll figure it out together!”

SMG3 said nothing. He only continued to stare, his expression hardening.

...

He remembered now. His name is SMG3. He was currently floating in the Great Beyond. He had just been dead. And now he was the vessel for an eldritch god. 

…Why had this happened to him? This was so… unfair. It was all because he had died. It was all because he had been killed. SMG1. SMG2. They had-

“...tried to kill us.” A dark and inhuman whisper rang out in his mind. White hot rage seized his heart. And then, he saw nothing but red.

...

“SMG3…?” SMG2 asked worriedly. “Please say something, you’re starting to freak me out-”

“2… something is horribly wrong.” SMG1 said, his throat tightening as he reached for the steering wheel.

SMG3’s eyes suddenly blazed red. The sclera lit up with the crimson, and the irises flashed white in the shape of a “0.” His lips pulled back and his mouth let out guttural roar, revealing rows of sharp red teeth. In the blink of an eye, he had rushed from his spot to the ship’s windshield, the force of his movement cracking the glass and shaking the ship. His fingers were curled into hooked black talons, digging into the window. 

“Murrrrrrgh… MURDERERRRRRRRRRR!” he roared.

SMG2 screamed, and SMG1's breath caught in his throat. As he and SMG3 locked eyes, SMG1 saw Eldritch 0. The Toytoy Kingdom. Spudnick screaming in agony as a slimy blue appendage squeezed out his essence. His own body burning with indescribable agony and losing its texture. Everything, everywhere falling to pieces and becoming corrupted-

Without thinking, SMG1 immediately put the ship in reverse and blasted backwards, throwing off SMG3… no, whatever that thing was. Fueled by adrenaline, SMG1 deftly put the ship back in forwards mode, spun around and hightailed it.

The vessel tumbled backwards through space before righting itself in vacuum. It glared at the retreating spaceship, unamused. “Meme guardians… always so annoying. They always think that they can put off the inevitable.”

Through SMG3’s eyes, it inspected his new hands. “Though… I didn’t expect this one’s rage to suddenly… spur us to such an irrational and premature move.” It would have been more advantageous to remain passive, and wait for the right moment to strike. It appeared that the purple-clad man's emotional impulses had worked a little too well.

No matter. It had been doing this for a very, very long time. It would adapt. Every movement its new vessels would make would be completely calculated, whether they were in control, or not. 

With no spaceship of its own, the vessel decided to use an old trick. This new body had some interesting code. The former-meme guardian had inherited it from the universe he was sent to. It was just tucked away, waiting to be used to its full potential. Red glitches flickered around its form. A familiar jingle of three uplifting 8-bit notes emitted from within itself, and a yellow cape materialized out of nowhere, wrapped neatly over the shoulders. 

Nearby, the other vessel stirred to life, also gazing in the direction of the spaceship. Its eyes also blazed red with white irises. Its cold and uncompromising frown on SMG4’s face contrasted with the twisted snarl on SMG3’s, but each of them shared the same intent. It joined its partner, reached within SMG4's code, and with some more flickers of red glitches, a pair of raccoon ears sprung forth from its head, and a long, striped tail from its rear. 

Their voices spoke in unison. “I won’t have complete control over these two for long. Our first order of business will be destroying those two meme guardians, like Niles should have done ALL those years ago.” 

“But this time, we will do it ourselves.”

In perfect sync, without even looking at each other, the two vessels reached for and clasped each other’s hands. They shot forward in hot pursuit, heading straight for a certain computer…

To be Continued...

Previous

Next

Just to clarify:

SMG3 is a he/his

SMG4 is a he/his

The Entity is an it/its

Can you tell who is in control?

[plumeria1]

The taste of love

Masterlist

Note: Today it's Pit Fighter Vi who continues this special Valentine's Day week.

Pairing: Pit Fighter Vi x Fem Reader

Content: Fluff

Warning: None

Summary: You hope Vi's gonna like your gift

Vi was coming home with a small smile on her lips. She had spent almost every evening this week fighting in the pit to have enough money to give you a gift for Valentine's Day.

She often came back with blood on her face and bruises all over her body, but she reassured you by saying it was nothing.

"You should see what state the other guy ended up in," she always said while laughing. But she could see that you were still worried, so she would kiss you on the forehead and hold you in her arms.

As she approached the door, she heard music coming from inside and raised her eyebrows in surprise. Weren’t you supposed to be there several hours later? So, what were you doing there already?

She opened the door gently and smiled at you when she saw you. You were moving your head to the rhythm of the music, which made your ponytail sway as you stirred something in a pot. Something that smelled really good.

She took advantage of the fact that you hadn’t noticed her to enjoy the show. You were wearing knee-high socks, your red shorts hugged your butt perfectly, and they were almost completely hidden by the t-shirt you had stolen from her a long time ago.

You let out a scream when you put out the fire and turned around, seeing her looking at you. You quickly turned down the music and said:

-Vi! You’re already home?

-It seems so. But don’t stop on my account, I was enjoying the show.

You had a troubled look and glanced at the pot behind you.

-You were supposed to come back in two hours. This was supposed to be a surprise.

She looked behind you to see what you were cooking. Apparently, that was the surprise you had just mentioned, but it was strange. It wasn’t the first time you had cooked for her, so why say it was a surprise?

-What’s in there?

-Uh... your Valentine's Day gift. I know you didn’t want me to spend too much money on your gift, so I thought I’d make this for you.

She headed toward the pot, sure she recognized that smell. When she saw the contents of the pot, she understood exactly where she recognized that scent from.

-I tried to reproduce it as best I could with the information you gave me. I’m lucky Loris knew the recipe, so he was willing to help me.

Vi wondered how she could have forgotten that. The dish her mother used to make when Vi and Powder were sick. She always said it gave them strength and helped them heal.

With a small smile, you handed her a spoon.

-You wanna taste it?

She took it gently and dipped it into the pot. When she tasted the dish, she felt as if she had become a little girl again, thinking about her family and the good times they had all spent together. The taste was slightly different from her memories. It wasn’t her mother’s dish, but you had put in a lot of effort to make it resemble it.

When she put down the spoon, she looked at you and saw the nervousness in your eyes, worried about whether she liked it or not.

-So? What do you think?

-It's incredible, thank you, angel.

She took you in her arms and ran her hands along your back while you did the same, smiling.

-I'm glad you like it.

-How long did it take you?

-Almost all week. I took advantage of your absence to train, and since Loris had some free time, he came to help me.

She laughed, imagining Loris in the kitchen.

-Now I understand where he was disappearing to all the time.

You laughed inwardly as you remembered how Loris almost gave himself indigestion from tasting all your attempts because you always thought they weren’t perfect.

-It's a shame you saw it now. I had planned a romantic dinner.

-Oh, really?

-Yes, I would have lit some candles, played a bit of music, and surprised you with this meal.

She saw that you seemed to care about this surprise.

-How about we skip the candles and music and just have dinner, just the two of us?

She started kissing you on the neck.

-And after that, we’ll go to the room and I’ll give you your gift.

You sighed. She knew exactly how to make you go crazy.

-That’s an excellent idea.

With these words, you enjoyed the good meal and a quiet evening until Vi took you by the hand and led you into the room where you spent a very tumultuous night.

[august-anon]

Oooooo! I love batfam! I got a prompt! Dick can be a serious tickle monster and what sucks about dick is he can school his reactions best of everyone besides cass and batman so its hard to get him back. Bruce holds all the secrets. I think dick would definitely try to tickle bruce after destroying his siblings and bruce just absolutely turning the tables and destroying him. And being super educational and making it interactive like a training course :p

ahhh thank you for the prompt, i hope you enjoy the fic!!! (also once again this is barely edited so i hope its okay!!!)

________________

Marked Improvement

Fandom: Batfamily (no specific source material/continuity) (your friendly reminder that the author has read no comics yet and this is fully fanon based sdjkfh)

Ship(s): Gen!!! Platonic!! Familial!! No batcest here

Characters (lee/ler): Lee!Dick & Ler!Bruce

Word Count: 3081 words

Summary: Dick's been on a tickle monster rampage, and he just set his sights on his most difficult victim yet. Unfortunately for him, said victim knows exactly where he's ticklish and how to take him down.

[ao3 link]

____________________

When Jason’s hand shot up to that soft, vulnerable spot just below his lowest rib, Dick realized he greatly miscalculated his recovery time. Whether that was by virtue of Jason growing up or some effect of the Pit, Dick wasn’t sure — but he was sure that he couldn’t afford to let Jason get the upper hand here. 

Unlike their babiest brothers, Jason actually had a vague idea of where Dick was ticklish. Not as well as Dick knew Jason’s tickle spots — things between Dick and Bruce were tense during those years, after all, and the playful attacks had really started to dwindle by the time Jason came around — but he knew enough to be dangerous. Dick needed to play his cards carefully if he didn’t want a swarm of younger siblings out for revenge.

So, after the initial ticklish twitch, Dick forced his muscles to stay relaxed instead of tensing or jolting. He forced his breathing to stay even and swallowed down the ticklish squeak that little spot always tried to force out of him. He couldn’t stop the smile, but Dick was almost always smiling, so it wasn’t hard to turn it into a playful grin at Jason’s expense. And at Jason’s frustrated huff, he twisted that playful grin into something a little more smug.

“What the hell?” Jason muttered under his breath.

“Sorry, Little Wing,” Dick said, “but unlike you, some of us actually did grow out of being ticklish.”

Jason scowled, glaring at that spot on Dick’s side like it was the source of all his life’s problems. “I don’t believe you,” he said. Then, Jason lunged.

Dick couldn’t help but laugh then, diving out of the way of Jason’s hulking figure to avoid being crushed. He narrowly avoided knocking a probably-outrageously-expensive vase off a small, too-old wooden table against the wall. Perhaps the hallway was not the most well thought out place for the attack, but Dick just hadn’t been able to help it when he’d seen Jason sulking through the manor without the usual protection of his trusty leather jacket. 

They only paused in their tussle when someone cleared their throat, glancing up to see Bruce hovering over them, one eyebrow raised and eyes crinkling at the corners despite the lack of an obvious smile. Dressed in sweats and an old, faded Superman t-shirt (Clark had given it to Bruce as a joke when Dick was still a kid — and gotten Dick one to match. Bruce told Clark he’d burned them, despite the fact that Dick forced Bruce into wearing them as matching pajama shirts until he inevitably grew out of his) with a steaming, oversized mug in his hand, it was clear Bruce was on his way to hunker down in front of the Batcomputer for the next several hours.

“Do I even want to know?” Bruce asked, his mouth finally ticking up at one corner to match the crinkles at his eyes.

Jason shoved at Dick’s chest. “Dickhead’s been on a rampage this weekend. Better look out, or you’ll be next.”

Bruce was fully smiling now, his eyes warm and fond in that way that made all of them squirm with discomfort as their chests melted with unaccustomed affection. Dick almost had to look away, feeling uncomfortably vulnerable at Bruce’s show of emotion. Jason did look away, scoffing as he pretended to brush dust off his shirt. As if Alfred would ever allow enough dust to accumulate for that to happen.

“I’ll be on my guard, then. You boys be careful — you know how Alfred feels about you roughhousing in the halls.”

At their annoyed acknowledgements and eye-rolls, Bruce carefully stepped between them and continued down the hall towards the study. Jason’s glare returned in full force.

“I still don’t believe you.”

Dick laughed again, pushing himself to his feet. “Whatever you say, Jay. If you’ll excuse me, you just gave me an excellent idea for my next victim.”

He ruffled Jason’s hair as he darted after Bruce, ignoring the indignant squawk and shout to “go back to Bludhaven, already!” He took the stairs down to the Batcave three at a time, and despite how lightly he landed on his feet at the base of them, he knew Bruce knew he was there. He didn’t bother to conceal himself, skipping right over to Bruce and draping himself across the back of the desk chair.

“Whatcha working on?”

In typical Bruce fashion, he ignored Dick’s question completely, instead asking, “Are you prepared for the day your siblings finally decide to overthrow you?” even as he continued to scroll through suspects’ rap sheets.

Dick scoffed, leaning more heavily on the back of Bruce’s chair. “Please, B, they’ll never manage it. Even if they could get along for long enough to plan an attack, they can’t get me back.” 

Bruce hummed and then, shockingly, actually looked away from the evidence spread across the monitors to glance back at Dick, both eyebrows raised. “Because you ‘grew out of it?’”

Dick gave him a smile that was all teeth. “Exactly.”

“Hn.”

Bruce turned back to his screens, leaving Dick still wrapped around the back of his chair. A foolish mistake, really, because with the oh-so-casual way he had oriented himself, his fingers were at the perfect place to target Bruce’s one weak spot — a coveted secret that Alfred had let slip to him when he was 16, but had never managed to get more than a few seconds of use out of before Bruce expertly took him down.

Okay, maybe Bruce’s disbelief with his “grew out of it” excuse was well-warranted. But that was, like, a decade ago! He totally could have grown out of it since then! He hadn’t, but he could have. 

When Dick’s sneaky fingers were only centimeters from Bruce’s neck, Bruce’s hand shot up and captured his in a tight grip. He spun the chair around, giving Dick a flat look.

“Did you think I wouldn’t take Jason’s warning to heart?” 

Dick pouted. “I’d hoped you’d think it was a joke. Or not expect me to try and get you right away, so I could catch you off guard.”

“I see.”

After a brief staring contest, Bruce released Dick’s fingers and Dick let out a defeated sigh. He’d have to regroup and actually plan out his next attempt if he wanted to have any chance of catching Bruce off guard before he headed back to Bludhaven for the week.

“Fine, fine,” Dick said as he turned around. “I’ll leave you to your brooding.”

Only, the second Dick had his back turned, two sets of evil fingers tasered those matching sensitive spots below his lowest rib on either side. 

Bruce’s tasers were lethal - they weren’t the normal sort of ticklish once-and-done poke or jab to make someone jump or squeak or trip over their own two feet. No, this was the one time Bruce shot to kill, poking two fingers into your ticklish spots as he vibrated and wiggled them around for a couple seconds to really make sure that ticklish shock made you weak in the knees. As a little kid, it would send Dick sprawling to the ground in squeals and giggles, already anticipating a more focused tickle attack. Now, as an adult, it still made him shriek and dart forward, twisting away from the fingers even as he stumbled over his own two feet. He whipped around to stare at Bruce. One corner of his mouth was quirked up.

“‘Grew out of it,’ indeed.”

“Bruce—“

Bruce twitched a finger on the keyboard. The Batcomputer’s screensavers flicked on. Dick’s eyes darted toward the Cave’s entrance. 

Elevator would be too slow – he would need to take the stairs again. Three at a time, just like before, and then he would run and hide in the— But no, he couldn’t. There was no universe in which Dick not only outran Batman, but managed to successfully hide from him until he gave up. No, Bruce catching him was an inevitability, but that didn’t mean his lies had to be exposed in front of all of his siblings. He’d rather they not find out at all – he had to keep some kind of leverage on all of them as the eldest.

Bruce stood from his chair, carefully rolling it back into place without looking away from Dick.

Dick’s eyes darted around the Cave. All his siblings were busy – Damian was training Titus, Tim had buried himself in W.E. work upstairs, and Jason (aside from Dick’s own interruption of his plans) was meant to be baking with Alfie all afternoon. No one was expected downstairs until it hit time for patrol. He should be safe from prying eyes down there – but did he really want to be brought down on the cold stone floor next to the Batcomputer?

Bruce took a step forward. Then another.

Dick took off without another thought, letting his body move on autopilot. Bruce’s footsteps picked up behind him almost immediately, giving chase. A giddy, incandescent feeling bubbled up in Dick’s chest. When was the last time he had genuinely just goofed off with his dad? He honestly couldn’t remember. There was always so much going on, the both of them too busy to spare time for these sorts of games, or the tension between them of unspoken hurts and barely-restrained anger was too much to let go of. Could it really have been so many years?

“You’re getting sloppy,” Bruce said, and despite the words, his tone was light. “You should have been able to bury that reaction, surprised or not.”

“Hey, I can too hide it! I fooled Jason!

Dick stumbled into the training area, glancing over his shoulder to see where Bruce was – too close – and almost tripping over the edge of the mats in the process. He supposed it made sense that his body would lead them here. Bruce had tickled him to tears on these mats too many times to count. Not to mention, it was the softest surface he would find in the Batcave, and he wasn’t exactly looking to crack his head open on the stone floor if he was still as much of a squirmer as he was as a kid. Dick hauled himself to the center of the mats and turned around, ready to make his final stand.

“Perhaps we need to go over your training again,” Bruce said, his voice obnoxiously conversational. “Just to make sure the lessons stick this time.”

“I think I’m good,” Dick said, twisting around as Bruce slowly started to circle him. “It was just a fluke.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yup.”

“Then you shouldn’t have any problem not reacting in the future.”

“None at all.”

Bruce lunged at him, hands outstretched towards Dick’s ribcage. Dick couldn’t stop the quiet gasp from escaping his lips, instinctively stumbling back at the evil grin on Bruce’s face. Bruce’s hands stopped not even an inch away from his ribs and he hovered there for a few horrible seconds before backing away and starting his circling once more.

“Is that so?”

Dick didn’t reply, too busy trying to coax his heart out of his throat and watching Bruce’s hands for further threats.

“A marked improvement from your last test certainly, but that’s years outdated at this point.”

Dick wrapped one arm protectively around his body while the other reached out as a feeble defense against Bruce’s next attack. A wobbly smile forced its way onto his face. “B, come on, we don’t have to do this.”

Bruce smirked. “On the contrary – I think we’ll have to repeat this training until you can do it in your sleep.”

Dick didn’t bother trying to run or dodge as Bruce lunged for him again, tackling him down to the training mats. He was already suppressing giggles by the time Bruce was hovering over him, which made even Bruce break character to give a brief chuckle. Still, when Bruce made his first move, Dick decided to play along, attempting to school his expression and relax his muscles as Bruce wiggled fingers into his stomach.

Of course, with all the anticipatory feelings racing through his body, his traitorous muscles still flinched involuntarily under the ticklish touch. It only made Bruce hone in, finding all the hidden, micro tickle-spots that even Dick had forgotten about over the years. 

“You need to learn to relax into the sensation,” Bruce said, adopting a lecturing tone Dick hadn’t heard since he was Robin. “Tensing up or flinching will only give you away.”

“I couldn’t help it,” Dick gritted out, still valiantly trying to suppress his laughter.

Bruce unexpectedly dug into his ribs, having to raise his voice to be heard over Dick’s sudden bark of laughter. “You’ll learn to.” He paused his attack. “Relax your muscles.”

If anything, Dick just tensed up further, his eyes going wide. “No way.” 

Though his face seemed impassive, Dick could see the mischief in Bruce’s eyes, especially in the way they crinkled at the corners. “How will you learn if we don’t practice, chum? We’ll just have to do it over and over until you get it right.”

“Bruce!”

Bruce huffed as though he were put-out. “If that’s too difficult for you, we can start elsewhere.” Then, he looked Dick right in the eyes and very seriously said, “Don’t laugh.”

Of course, that made Dick instantly want to laugh — a problem that only worsened when Bruce latched onto those twin soft spots just beneath his ribs once more. Dick pressed his mouth into a thin line as he held his breath, squeezing his eyes shut.

Bruce clicked his tongue — a habit he seemed to be picking up from Damian – as he stopped his brief attack. “It could use some work, but I suppose it’s a functional resistance – for now.” 

Wow. Thanks, Bruce.

“But can you remain consistent?”

Oh, fuck.

Before Dick could even cry out his feeble, half-baked protests, Bruce’s hands were back on that evil spot, squeezing and wriggling and massaging. Between the uncommonly playful atmosphere and Bruce’s knowledge on the perfect ways to tickle Dick to tears, it was only a handful of seconds before Dick was struggling to keep his laughter contained. He tried to bring his hands up to his mouth, to put up some half-hearted attempt at keeping up this guise of training, but Bruce snatched them up out of the air and pinned them under his knees before he even made it halfway there.

“Now that would be cheating. We can’t skew the data.”

Dick lost to his reactions, letting out a nearly painful snort before giving into his laughter. “Bruce, you asshole!”

Bruce let out one of his infuriating hums. “Not as bad as the last data set, but you can do better. Get control of yourself, we’ll try again.”

Dick sucked in a deep breath, trying to get himself back under control and back into character. Except, there was one glaring problem with this: Bruce wouldn’t stop tickling.

In fact, he didn’t seem inclined to stop any time soon. While one hand remained at the soft spots just below his ribs, the other started climbing up his ribcage, trying to worm up under his arm. With his wrists pinned, the best Dick could do was try to press his elbow to his side, failing to provide himself with any real protection. As Bruce’s fingers inched higher, Dick couldn’t help the way his laughter turned giggly and squeaky.

“Come on , Dick. We can’t proceed with the training until you stop laughing.”

“I can’t!” Dick said.

Bruce’s other hand joined the first, crawling up his ribs towards his armpit. Dick snorted and giggled, kicking his legs out behind Bruce to try and propel himself away from the fingers. When that didn’t work, he tried to toss his torso around to throw off Bruce’s hands. 

“It’s just a little tickling, chum.”

Bruce was such an asshole. Just for that, Dick jolted his leg up, jamming his knee into Bruce’s back. Bruce grunted at the impact, but was barely swayed. Still his tickling fingers paused, and Dick managed to suck in non-giggly breath to try and regain control.

“That’s right,” Bruce said. “I almost forgot.”

Dick’s eyes went wide. “Wait – Dad, no!”

Bruce’s evil grin returned full-force. “It’s for your training.”

And then Bruce reached behind him and latched his fingers onto the muscles just above Dick’s knee, squeezing rapidly. Dick tossed his head back against the mat and cackled, trying and failing to kick his legs out of Bruce’s grip. He heard Bruce laughing along above him, and Dick couldn’t help the embarrassed flush spreading across his face. It wasn’t because of his own ticklishness or Bruce’s teasing, but because of just much fun Dick was having. He was an adult, not a little kid – his dad tickling the snot out of him shouldn’t make him so happy. But – this wasn’t Batman and Nightwing, and it wasn’t Brucie Wayne and his wayward ward. It was just Bruce and Dick goofing off, nothing else hanging over their heads, for once able to exist in this moment together. And Bruce was having fun too.

And Bruce almost never had fun.

Of course the fondness immediately dissipated when Bruce’s fingers started pinching their upward and routing back down, traveling between his knees and mid-thigh. Dick shouted wordlessly through his laughter, finally wrenching one arm out from under Bruce’s knee and using it to tug at Bruce’s shirt uselessly. He flopped against the training mats like a fish out of water, completely losing control of his body’s responses. By the time Bruce finally slowed his fingers, Dick’s eyes were watery with unshed tears and his abs ached from his laughter.

“Hn,” Bruce rumbled, hauling himself off of Dick to sit next to him on the mats. “I expect you to perform better, next time.”

Dick choked on his next breath, shooting Bruce a wide-eyed look. “Next time?!”

Bruce’s eyes crinkled at the corners. “Practice makes perfect, chum. You need to keep up your training.”

“Oh, screw you.”

Bruce laughed and ruffled his hair, at which Dick hummed and couldn’t help but go boneless against the mats. Then Bruce stood and brushed off his shirt as he left the training area, Dick hearing the clack of the Batcomputer’s keyboard just a few minutes later. He closed his eyes and caught his breath. The training mats were pretty comfortable. Surely no one would mind if he took a nap, here.

[bugs1nmybrain]

sleeping beauty - L Lawliet x Fem!Reader Voyeur + Somnophilia Smut 🩵💤

Writer's Notes: Well. Yea

Word Count: 2839

18+ Minors Do Not Interact!

Warnings: Cringe title cuz I couldn't think of anything more clever, smut, female reader (she/her pronouns), voyeurism, masturbation (L), somnophilia, dub-con, dom L, ooc L?, L uses "my love" and "darling" and "lovely" (new one!) as pet names, unreciprocated kissing, PRAISE, established relationship, unprotected sex, not proofread yet

Dub-con explanation to avoid triggering: L watches reader sleep on surveillance cameras and jacks off to her, L touches and penetrates the reader in her sleep/while she is sleepy. She's not scared or feels violated, she knows it's L and wants him, but the lack of alertness and being drowsy makes the consent dubious.

L was bored.

There really wasn't much happening in his current case, at least not at the present moment. There were many things to do but with it being sleeping hours for the countries he was in contact with, getting any of his plans into fruition was going to have to wait until the morning. After all, it was 2 a.m. The only thing L could do was research. He had been keeping his alerts on all night, impending a new lead, but nothing turned up yet. He had been waiting for several hours. Still nothing.

So he sat at his monitors with a blueberry yogurt. He played with his food, swishing the spoon in and out of the yogurt for many seconds before finally taking a bite. He was getting tired of this boredom; it was killing him.

With nothing better to do, he figured it would be a good idea to check on you. He flicked around his computer screen and opened the tab to the camera in your room. You were often invited to L's room when you wanted, even if he didn't join you for bed. You chose your room tonight though.

When L saw your sleeping form, a strange calmness washed over him. What was it that caused this reaction he pondered? Was it as simple as that he loved you? Or maybe it was knowing that you were safe and secure under his supervision. You were lying there with only a snug tank top and panties, a poor excuse for pajamas L thought. It was easy to see how the shirt hugged your breasts and tummy even from the distance the camera was from you. And your panties were cute, frilly white and pink. The ones he bought for you.

He watched as you snuggled your pillow tight. You seemed lonely. Did you miss him? The thought of you craving his embrace and presence caused a peak of possessiveness in L. Or was it arousal? It was likely both, but L was more so distracted by the way you nuzzled your face in the pillow and grinded your groin on it, with your thighs wrapping around it. Oh, how cute you were.

You looked gorgeous. You always did, but you looked especially alluring tonight. So peaceful. He was grateful that he had more than one camera installed because he could see your drifting form from many angles like this.

L sat there and ate his yogurt while he watched you shamelessly. Your continued grinding and snuggling into the pillow was endearing, but then you let out that noise. Yes, he had wiretaps in there as well. You knew about the cameras and bugs; it was an agreed-upon condition.

L turned the volume down quicker than the speed of lightning to avoid anyone in the other rooms hearing his speakers, and just as quickly grabbed his headphones so that he could hear you much more clearly. Now he had full access to your voice. He was disappointed, though, because you weren't making any more sounds.

You turned to lay on your back, which was odd. L knew you didn't typically sleep that way, but he chalked it up to random occurrence. Though, the way your tits were shaping out into your tank top made him almost want to believe that you were doing this on purpose. Your shirt was raised over your stomach from ruffling around, showing the lower area of your stomach.

Uh-oh

L's attention averted only a little when he realized that his pants were becoming a bit tighter in the crotch. He looked down for a second to see his bulge in his pants. Instinctively, his thumb met his lip, but his gaze went back on you. You were now turned on your side, your round ass facing the camera. Fuck.

Without much thinking about it, L began to unbutton his pants. His cock wasn't fully erect yet, but it was starting to pulse, and was begging for some external stimulation. He pulled his slender, pale dick out from his underwear and stroked the entire length as he watched you in your slumber.

Yes! The noises came back. You whined and mewled in your sleep, hips squirming. L had a good hunch you were having a rather impure dream, which worked well for him. Your sounds were so beautiful. You were being so good for him.

His cock quickly grew to its full length as he stroked it in a timely rhythm. He played with himself as he watched you return to cuddling the pillow, and paid attention to your ass and crotch riving against it. Fuck.

It wasn't enough. You looked beautiful and he loved it. He loved you and seeing you like this. However, simply watching you toss and turn wasn't going to satisfy him. He needed to see you in person, to touch you, to fuck you.

L tucked his cock back in his jeans, though it still created a bulge from his erection. Why did you have to be many flights up the stairs? So inconvenient for him right now. He stood up, hunched as always, and made his way to the elevator. He waited impatiently as the elevator transported him up to your floor, yet when it reached it, he took his time walking toward your door.

L slowly turned the doorknob, making as little noise as humanly possible. When he shut the door, he turned his face to look at you. The sight of you made his heart leap in spike and his cock ache in agony. He stepped very slowly toward your bed, raising his head to see the entirety of your body. The curve between your waist and your hips was lovely and your skin looked glowing under the light of the moon from the window. He wanted to touch you instantly, but he held out for a moment.

He decided to just watch for a moment, but you weren't as antsy as you were before. Perhaps your dirty dream had been over by now. Just seeing you sleep, though, was enough to provide L with all the love hormones he needed. The rise and fall of your peaceful breath was soothing, and you even produced little sleepy sounds that didn't exactly snore, but they were cute regardless.

It was time to take action, he reasoned. L quietly made his way to prop himself beside you on the bed, and began running his delicate hands along your waist.

"Hmm.."

Your response made his cock twitch violently. Just from brief contact, you reacted beautifully to him. He raised his hand to stroke your messy hair out of your face. Your sleeping face was so adorable.

Impulse struck L and he acted on instinct. His face descended down to yours. He planted a very gentle kiss on your lips, relishing in their soft texture. Of course, you didn't kiss him back. Your lips curved into a lovely smile, but your eyes didn't open. Interesting, L thought. You have been exerting yourself in your responsibilities lately, so you were absolutely dozed off.

L made a bold move and gently moved your form from its side position to lie on your back. Your body instinctively tried to snuggle back into the fetal position, but L took your hands in his, circling your palm with his thumb. As he lied your hands down at your side, he trailed his hands up your thighs, relishing in their softness.

He knew that maybe this wasn't morally correct. You were asleep. But you responded so invitingly to his touch. You were so pretty like this. L lightly grazed his fingers along your panties and felt a dampness. He knew it! You must've been having a wet dream and were aroused yourself, though unconscious.

L stopped for a moment, calculating his next step. He didn't want to exactly fuck you while you had no knowledge of it. ..Or? Well, in more specific terms, he didn't want to hurt you, quite the contrary. Maybe it would make your dreams more pleasant. Would it make you sleep better? He didn't want to scare you though, and somnophilia wasn't something you two had really talked about before.

Conceding from his moral inhibitions, L trailed his fingers up your arms, hooking them around your spaghetti straps. He paused for a moment to observe your breathing, still heavy from sleeping. He begins to drag the straps down your arms, taking your top along with them. When the skin-tight fabric was removed from your breasts, L insisted that he could feel his heart pumping through his cock. You were always so pretty, so gorgeous, and all for him.

Your tits were so pretty and your nipples seemed flushed. Was it from your arousal?, L pondered. He slowly latched his lips on one of your nipples, tending to it gently before releasing and going to the other. Your body reacts to the stimulation and your hips drive forward while you give out a pleasured moan. L moves his head back quickly, startled by your reaction.

However, instead of being scared out of his next move, L recognizes that perhaps he could make you feel just as safe and cared about even while you were asleep like this. You shouldn't have to fear him, right? L takes the risk and begins trailing kisses along your chest and up your neck. He actually hoped it would wake you up, even for just a moment, so he could get some clearance from you. As if he hadn't already been kissing you unconsciously, undressing you, and sucking your tits.

With a heavy breath and a groan, you begin stretching your arms upwards. Your eyes open only slightly, and you're hit with confusion at first. Your vision was very blurry, and you could only make out blobs of color and shape. After halfway registering the texture of the lips that were kissing you and how their hair felt against your skin, your tension eased. You could tell it was only your lover by the way he was touching and kissing you; gentle, meticulous, and romantic.

"Mmmrr.." is all you could manage to say. You were very tired and groggy and could feel yourself already falling back to sleep. "..L?"

"What is it, my love?"

"I'm wet."

"I already know that. Do you need me to help you?"

"I'm.." you begin drifting but fight it. "I'm very..tired...but I..."

"Shhh...I know, lovely. I'll take care of you, alright? You just relax and look pretty for me, hm?"

You giggle sleepily and relax your head back as L continued to kiss your neck, "Mm..ye..yes..please.."

"Mm..of course, darling..."

L kissed your cheek tenderly, and then to your lips. You did what you could to kiss back, though it was very sloppy because of your drowsiness. You felt your pussy grow wetter as L stroked the side of your face while he kissed you, but soon his hand moved away from your face and down to a more intimate area.

Slowly, he removed your panties from your body. His brows (that weren't there) furrowed in arousal when he witnessed the slick fluid that strung out from the panties as he took them off your pussy. So wet already, and if that wasn't enough for him to tell, the clear, slick substance that glowed on your panties definitely was. "Silly girl, you're not supposed to sleep with underwear on", he thought.

L's fingers met your pussy, stroking up from your labia up to your achingly sensitive clitoris. Your juices were already coating his fingers. L firmly began to rub two pads of his fingers on your clitoris, wasting no time to circle around in perfect motion. Your body was already completely submitting to his touch. Your hips bucked against his hand, and thank god L knew how to adapt to your sudden movements because he kept fingering your clitoris as you squirmed for him. It felt so incredible with your body feeling intoxicated by all those feel-good emotions he was producing from you. As great as his fingers felt physically, the knowledge of his care and love for you without expecting anything in return made you infinitely more aroused.

Your clit was starting to feel the rolling sensation you were familiar with. "Already?" L snickered in his head. He couldn't feel what you were, but he noticed how your pussy was contracting and moving on his fingers. He knew these movements of the onset of your submission to pleasure.

"There we go..."

"Mmm!" The feeling was almost unbearable. Somehow being halfway asleep made this pleasure better. Perhaps it was the lack of autonomy over yourself in this moment? L kept rolling his fingers along your clit and you felt your orgasm on the verge of exploding.

"A-a-ah!"

"That's it. Don't hold back.." L cooed at you for comfort, though you weren't registering anything he said; they only sounded muffled.

Your clitoris erupts in pleasure and you begin thrusting your hips as your orgasm overtook you. L made sure to stimulate your clitoris for every moment of your orgasm, and you made the prettiest noises for him while he did so.

"Awhhhh~ hmm.."

"You're doing so well for me, lovely. Could I maybe feel how wet and warm you are for me? Would that be ok?"

"So wordy", you thought in your drowsy mind. You hummed in approval for him, much to his delight. L had been wanting to feel you for so long, but he had to make sure you were taken care of, too. Besides, you feel the best when you're properly ready for him.

L took off his pants and underwear, both attached as he did so. His cock was painfully hard and he winced when his fingers grazed it. He himself wasn't immune to overwhelming sensitivity. He adjusted into a position where he could see you as you moved to his thrusts, though it was still very much a branch of missionary.

He pulled your thighs closer and lifted your legs to wrap around him. He placed the tip of his cock before your vagina without inserting it and already felt the heat of your pussy at the touch. Finally, he pushed his cock inside of you, already sighing from only halfway in. L slowly began penetrating you in and out, rolling his hips to meet your G-spot inside.

((fun fact: the g-spot isn't an individual gland or part of the anatomy, it's actually an extension of the clitoris! I'm using the term "g-spot" for easier comprehension because I'm not teaching a sex education class; this is smut))

His long cock rubbed your sensitive sleeve so perfectly, and you somehow produce even sexier sounds than you did when he was focusing on you alone.

"Aawhh~"

"Mmm...you feel so incredible.."

His thrusts were deep and gentle. Not slow, per se, but calculated. It was as if he was trying to savor your pussy, which was true. His penis made slick sounds when it would enter and exited your wet, slobbery cunt. His dick and hands were the only sensations you could process right now, and they felt so good.

"Ah..L.."

"You're doing so good, baby."

L couldn't help his male instincts as his cock grew hungrier by the visual sensations in front of him. The way your lips parted slightly and how your tits would move to his thrusts made him leak. His thrusts become more eager and less restrained, desperate.

"Ah...you're such a pretty girl..so perfect..."

You whined adorably, making him begin to feel his own orgasm approaching. He holds your waist firmly to be able to control his thrusts better, pumping you full as you squealed for him.

"F-*sigh*-fuck. Y/N...I'm so close.."

His hips bucked against you as his eyes rolled back in pleasure. His cock throbbed inside of you for a few split seconds as he finally came inside of you, his own body losing its rigidity as he slumped forward. He rested his forehead on yours, panting with you in unison. You looked like you were on the verge of passing out. He almost felt bad, but he could tell by your pleasant face and relaxation that you enjoyed him making love to you, even if you weren't properly engaged for it.

He pulled out of you, needing to shake the extra seminal residue off of himself before he rested next to you. Messes like this typically bother L's need for cleanliness, but you were exhausted and he was sort of as well. So instead he wrapped his arms around you from behind and pulled you in to snuggle him. He hadn't slept for many days, he thought that maybe he could afford some slumber with you. He slept the soundest when you were with him, after all.

But as he started drifting off, he contemplated how the situation before would have been if the roles were reversed...

Requested tag: @graceful-disaster

[boulderpunchinglover]

Could you please do boyfriend izuku headcannons? Please and thank you :) <3

SORRY FOR GOING GHOST. Summer has been very eventful(in a good way). Butttt I got Covid after going to an Ateez concert so, I'm stuck in bed. Sooo... I finally have time to do this so here you go! I'm really proud of this <3 also rip MHA :C

Izuku as your boyfriend  ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི₊ ⊹

Boyfriend! Izuku loves to ramble about heroes with you. Double points if you're just as obsessed with heroes as he is and you two ramble together for hours on end. Sometimes, he rambles so fast that you don't understand what he's saying. He gets absolutely flustered when you caress his face and tell him to chill out.

You and Inko have an amazing relationship! You go to Boyfriend! Izuku's house even when he's not there just to hang out with her. On several occasions, Izuku has arrived home from wherever he was, wanting to hang out with you, just for you to already be sitting on the kitchen table having a cup of tea with his mom.

Despite being easily flustered, Boyfriend! Izuku loves physical touch. He hugs you at any chance he gets! when you guys are on the commuter train, he feels at ease laying on your shoulder and just falling asleep. Let him rest, he deserves it ♡ He is ok with being the big spoon but, much prefers to be the little spoon. After all he's been through, he just wants to feel secure and at ease.

Do fights even exist in your relationship? It's claimed that having arguments in relationships are totally normal but, you and Boyfriend! Izuku have never had a single argument. He has never said a harsh word towards you. But if you're frustrated at something and you take your anger out on him, he wouldn't be upset at you. He will give you some space for a while and then make it clear to you that although he understands your anger, he didn't appreciate what you said to him. This results in you feeling guilty and apologizing. Couple goals when it comes to communication ♡

Your first kiss was before you two officially started dating. You initiated the first kiss with Boyfriend! Izuku but, he was the one to confess. Being the gentleman he is, he offered to walk you home from school. As you two are walking, you cannot stop looking at him as he rants about the hard math test you two took that day. You're enamored with the way he gets worked up when he talks about something he's passionate about, how his eyebrows scrunch out of frustration, and his lips move when he speaks... You didn't even realize you kissed him until the silence that came from it happened. Izuku looked at you with the most flustered face you've ever seen on the boy.

"... T-thank you!"

... It's a bit awkward afterwards as he continues to walk you home in silence. Later on that night, Izuku lays in bed looking up at the ceiling with the same flustered look on his face. He thinks about how he felt when your lips touched his for the first time. He felt a wave of affection that he's never felt before. For the first time in his life, Izuku is in love. And he cannot sleep until he tells you...

... Just like when he attempted to save Bakugou from that villain, his feet move without him trying to as he jumps out of bed and runs out of the house. He doesn't even care that it's raining. He needs to see you now.

When he knocks on your door, you're surprised to see him. "Midoriya, it's the middle of the ni-" Your sentence is cut short as Izuku grabs your face and presses his lips against yours. Although you're surprised, you close your eyes and melt into the kiss. As you two hold and kiss each other in the rain, you knew that you would never let him go ♡