#and who fidgets by rubbing fingers together

[leighsartworks216]

Jaskier and Geralt is ADHD and Autism solidarity

[moechies]

kinktober ⋆౨ৎ entry #1 ; cockwarming w toji fushiguro .ᐟ

dear diary ♡,

a couple days ago, mister toji taught me how to 'cockwarm.' it's where i simply sit on his . . . cock, and warm him up -- he says. i was so nervous ! he is so big , and i thought it was going to hurt tons ! it burned a little , but felt so much better after settling a little. mister toji was touching me so softly all over, calling me sweet things, and even played with my tail! i'm so embarrassed -- i must've been blushing so much! i think i may ask him to do it again today , i hope he doesn't get angry . . . i love mister toji so so sooooooo much ! ♡

“c—can we do it when you’re done?”

“what?”

he can tell by the way you’re fidgeting and your ears are twitching— you need something. you pinch at the skin of your thigh, nervous with little courage as you ask.

“the— the thing you taught me. last week. the warming one?” you quip, tugging on toji’s shirt as he finishes up cleaning the dishes in the sink.

“oh.. y’want my fat dick in y’r lil bunny pussy is what ‘m hearing, is that right ?” he emphasizes on dick. he’s so blunt, and it makes you want to crawl and hide. he turns to you with a checkered apron hanging onto his neck, hand leaning against the sink. his smug smile spreads across his face, seeming to enjoy the way you grow flustered.

you whine at his choice of words, thighs rubbing against eachother with need. he acts as if he doesn’t see you writhing besides him, your arm purposefully pressed against your chest to suppress your sore tits.

he can practically smell the sweet slick spilling from your pussy bunny, smearing over the crotch of your panties.

toji briefly tugs at the string that holds the back of his apron together, swiftly pulling it over his head before tossing the piece of fabric onto the dining table. he steps forward, figure pressed against yours and you unconsciously stumble back. he makes you so weak.

“uh huh—“ you’re about to beg again, but he’s quick to scoop you up by your legs, hoisting you up into his arms. you yelp, but make no effort to get away — instead, nuzzling your face closer into the crevice his neck, dizzy at the detected mixed scent of his woody colonge and tart sweat.

he chuckles when you huff at the intial drop of your body onto the matress of your shared room, your plush body sinking into the pillowy sheets. your legs part naturally, taking up your invitation and having him slot himself right where you need him most. his broad shoulders press up against your plush thighs, spreading them further than before.

“bad bunny. y’know you can’t just have cock in ya twenty-four seven, right?” his left pointer finger tugs your flimsy shorts aside, and right thumb presses against the soaked patch of your cunt. you mewl under his touch, soft pads of your feet coming up to press him away. you gently shove at his bicep, but he barely moves. he knows you don’t want him to move anyway. “‘m n—not a bad bunny!”

“you are.”

“n—not, ‘m not mister!”

“hmm, i dunno about that.” he hums, pressing against your clothed clit. “are ya ever not in heat?"

"sir, please, n’more questions!" you whine in fustration, yelping when his pointer and thumb meanly pinches at your swollen bud. your eyes bulb with tears, meeting his that suddenly glare so meanly in comparison to his often soft, emerald ones.

"do you know who you're talking to?" toji growls, squishing the chub of your folds together, the slight simulation to your clit making you flinch.

"y—yes, sir. but please . . . mister, need you here, need your cock here!" you whine, ears sullied and pointed low. your hand moves his to take ahold of his finger, pressing it against your aching slit.

"there there . . ." he coos, thumb sliding over your clothed slit but paying it no attention. he presses a warm kiss on the soddened fabric, low lidded eyes and a smug grin that meet yours when he does. you're adorable like this — absolutely worked up and so terribly desperate; it's his favorite version of you.

"m—mister," you stammer,

"c'mere doll." he sits up against the headboard, pulling you onto his lap. you yelp when you feel the chub of his cock pressing against your folds, grinding down senselessly. toji laughs, getting a hold of your bicep to halt your hips movements. "don't be so greedy, bun."

"hnn—" you whine, tail thumping against his thigh. you slowly tug down his sweats, ears perking up when you realize the missing piece of fabric below — he's not wearing boxers!

he notices the way your eyes light up, cheeks begin to flush, and your expression grows brighter than before — you're one step closer to where you need to be. he almost hates the adorable expression sprawled across your face, chuckling when you look up to him with big-doed eyes searching for a green light.

you salivate when you tug the sweats just low enough, his cock slaps against his stomach. he scoffs, watching his cock leak against his soft skin. he’s getting old.

“inside now— mister—“ you pant, drool spilling at the corners of your mouth. you whine again, hands weakly tugging aside your shorts along with your panties, and aligning his cock head with your fat slit. “mister . . .” you whine, hinting for help.

“y’can do it.” toji grunts, placing a hand onto your plush hip. “ mmh, you got it.”

maybe you don’t ‘got it,’ because it burns so terribly when your folds swallow his cock!

“m—mister, mister !” you whine, quickly pulling yourself off his bulbous tip at the initial burn. he watches your slick stretch from your wet slit to his cock head, making him groan.

“calm down . . y’r rushin,’” he readjusts you, pulling your quivering hips close before you’re hovering over his cock again with small tears. “my bunny can’t do it herself, can’t she? whatta dumb lil’ thing.” toji chuckles, “there there.” he whispers with a sultry voice, making your cunt quiver around nothing.

you whine when you feel him tug down at your hips, whining when his hot tip presses against your slit once again — your slits kissing.

“big sir, s—so big,” you whine, a stutter in your voice from the stretch down low.

“slow down, hurts ‘cause you’re rushin.’ see?” he coos, lifting and lowering your hips over and over, fucking you on his tip. no — you don’t see because you’re awfully lightheaded, hands weakly stabilizing yourself above him but little do you know it’s solely his support keeping you up.

your cunt squelches with each and every single movement, a low ‘pop’ that elicits from your pussy whenever he moves you. “good girl. you can take it, am i ever wrong?”

“i—i can, can take it . . .” you slur, head fluffy and hands weak against his pelvis. “good girl. now sit.”

he grunts, pulling your hips down suddenly all the way, your cunt kissing on his dewy balls. “fuck, damn it.” toji groans — you cry at the stretch, cunt sore and raw when he grinds you down further than possible. “m—mister !”

he chuckles again, breath labored as he pushes the loose strands of his hair back. “worst part’s over, doll.” toji presses down at your arch to lay you against him. he can still feel your body twitching from hiccups of your previous fit — poor bunny. “i—it is . . “ you hiccup. he pets at your soft ear that trails down to your waist, giving your plush skin a soft pinch with a hum. “mister . . feels good . .” you purr, tail twitching incessantly again.

“course it does.”

[rowarn]

soap x reader x simon

soap doesn't know how to make you cum on his cock so he asks his trusted lieutenant to teach him how.

sub!reader, dom!simon, switch?soap, getting fucked by soap in simon's lap, wet&messy, cumming untouched, size difference/kink, threesome, fat dick!soap, MDNI

<3 just some horny nonsense that was spinning in my brain!!!

When Simon found out that sweet Johnny was struggling with something personal and even as embarrassing as making you cum, Simon’s mouth moved faster than his brain with an offer he never thought he would utter.

“I could help you out with that,” he had said, making Soap pause, mouth agape. Simon almost rescinded those words, brushing it off as a crude joke.

But then Soap spoke.

“Would you?” he asked, blue eyes glistening hopefully.

And Simon felt his cock twitch in his jeans.

It wasn’t that he couldn’t make you cum, Soap had defended on the drive over to your shared flat. Soap was good with his tongue and his fingers, could make you squirt by just rubbing that sweet little spot inside your gooey cunt.

The problem was whenever Johnny got his cock in you, he just could never get it right. The pace was wrong, the angle was off, he went too deep – anything that he could do wrong, he would do wrong.

“It’s never been like this with other…partners,” Soap shyly whispered. Though it was dark in the truck, Simon knew his friend was blushing in embarrassment, “I-I don’t know what I’m doin’ wrong this time.”

“Well, we’ll figure it out, Johnny,” Simon assured, shoving the door open the second Soap turned the engine off.

You and Soap lived on the top floor and the elevator ride up was stifling. Soap was fidgeting, clearly more than a little nervous about how this night was meant to go.

You and he had been together for a while – long enough to move in together. Simon wondered what finally made Soap reach out for help on this little problem after so long.

But Simon wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth. He’d wanted to get his fucking hands on you from the second you bounced into the room, radiant and so sweet in the way you shyly clung to Soap’s arm. You were precious and Simon’s not proud to admit he had gone home and tugged his cock fucking raw over the way you had batted your pretty lashes at him when you looked up at him – so much smaller than him.

He knew he would be a fucking wreck the second he had you within his grasp and fuck, he was right.

His hands were shaking as he held you in his lap, gripping your knees to keep you spread wide for Soap to slot his hips between them.

You were a sensitive little thing, Simon learned. You came so easily around Soaps fingers when he worked to stretch you open for him. If you came so easily then why the fuck couldn’t Johnny get you off from his cock?

You were trembling, wide eyes teary as you watched your boyfriend carefully work his cock into you. The stretch was always so good, always making your eyes roll back in your head. Your cunt was so slick and sticky, eagerly swallowing every inch of Soap. So fucking messy. It made Simon's mouth fill with saliva at the sight of how wet you were, he wanted to taste you so badly.

Johnnys cock was fat, thick and heavy, no doubt burning your poor little cunt with how wide he had you stretched around him. You creamed around him, juices dribbling down his balls and wetting his sweatpants. You even dripped all over Simon who held you in his lap.

When Johnny started thrusting, Simon immediately understood why you couldn't seem to cum. Sure, it felt good, and you were moaning - twitching and gasping every time Soap sunk in and brushed against any sweet little spot inside. But Soaps rhythm and pace were inconsistent and he didn't seem to have any idea how to aim his cock to really hit those gooey spots that would have you falling over the edge into bliss.

Simon took a few moments to admire the scene unfolding right in his lap. You, creaming all over a cock that couldn't make you cum. Soap desperately humping your pretty cunt haphazardly and sloppily. He wasn't even bothering to touch your clit. Beneath his mask, Simon grinned.

It was so cute how Johnny went so stupid the second he got his cock wrapped up in a tight, hot pussy.

“Johnny…” Simon finally spoke, “Slow down.”

Immediately, Soap did as he was told. His pace slowed, careful rolls of his hips replacing the jackhammering.

“There's a good boy,” Simon praised, eyes darkening at the sight of Soap’s ears turning red, “Go nice ‘nd deep You gotta hit all those nice spots inside.”

Soap’s pretty, blue eyes were half-lidded as he watched you writhe and twitch in his Lieutenant’s arms. With every deep stroke, both of them could hear the sticky, wet noises of your pussy swallowing every inch.

One of Simon’s hands trailed down your thigh, inching down and down. Soap’s eyes followed every movement until his fingers finally found your hard little clit. Immediately, your cunt clamped down around Soap’s cock and the Scot moaned.

“You gotta touch this cute little clit,” Simon teased, “If you really wanna know how it feels to have a pretty cunt cum around you.”

Soap nonsensically nodded, blunt nails digging into your hips as he held himself back from fucking you like a madman again. He kept Simon’s words in mind - deep and slow. Aim for those little spots. He knows where they are, he knows where it feels good. Just don't think with his cock - that's all he had to do.

With Simon’s callused fingers swirling over your sticky clit and Soap’s fat cock stuffing you full just right, it came as no surprise when you finally came.

Soap wasn't able to stand how good it felt with how tight you were squeezing around him, pulsing through every wave of your orgasm. You were gushing, creaming sticky and wet all over him. Simon could feel you clit twitching under the pads of his fingers.

With a shout, Soap filled you up with his load, “Fuck!”

As the two of you came down, Simon’s big hands carefully stroked up and down your thighs until their trembling ceased.

“You know, Lt,” Soap panted, looking up at him through his lashes, “I think I could use a little more hands on training. How about you really show me how it's done.”

Even though Simon had quietly came in his own pants, his cock was chubbing up again at those words.

“I like the sound of that, Seargent.”

do not modify translate, or repost to other websites. reblogs welcome!

[pearlymel]

Sylus remembers clearly the day he found out you were both having twins. Twins, as in two babies as yours and his first children.

How you almost passed out when the doctor delivered the news, but he was quick to tell you that everything would be okay.

He's going to be the best husband for you, and for the twins..?

they sure were going to be a handful.

“Sylus!” Sylus' head snapped towards the kitchen, where your voice had come from, “come get your son before i cook him!”

He knew that you were joking. Probably.

the kitchen, one hand holding his little girl's hand guiding her along. "Now, now," he called out as he entered the kitchen, "No cooking the children, sweetie.”

You let out a sigh when you watch the boy run away while letting out giggles, his face and hands full of white flour.

Seeing this, Sylus let out an exasperated sigh as well, his gaze shifting from his running figure to the mess of flour on the floor. "Sorry about the mess he made," he muttered before looking over at you, a sheepish smile on his face. "Go to your brother,” he urges the girl next to him, she nods slowly before running off to him.

“I'll feed him to the ducks one day.” You say with determination, still focused on trying to make this dinner a success after the mess.

But Sylus chuckled at your threat, knowing all too well that you were only half-serious. He could see the twitching in your eyes, but he also knew that you loved both of your children dearly, even if they could be a handful sometimes.

”Though I suspect he would probably find a way to befriend them and make a mess with them.”

“.. why are you right?”

“because i know my children,” he says proudly, then makes slow steps from behind you to not alert you so suddenly, his arms snaking around your waste with his chin resting on your shoulder, “what are you making?”

You smile, “dinner.”

"Smartass," he teased, "I meant what kind of dinner are you making?” he whispers calmly, a soft conversation between you two, with his thumb rubbing ideally on you.

“hm, i could be dinner… but oh well.” you sigh dramatically and he laughs quietly.

You couldn't even continue because you hear a faint “ewwww.” Coming from the corner.

You both glance back at the two heads peeking out from the wall, and you roll your eyes.

"and here I was, having a moment with your mother," he said to them, his voice still low yet amused. "You two really have a knack for interrupting, don't you?”

Your little girl was the first to speak, “it was his idea.” She started quietly, her fingers fidgeting together, but her brother only gasped, “she's lying!”

"Oh, really now?" he’s skeptical, and he approaches both of them with his arms crossed, “Hmm, it's always the innocent ones who lie, isn't it?”

“but I'm not—”

“liar.” The little one huffs and looks away with annoyance, but the minute he could hear his sister im the verge of tears, he knew he messed up.

Sylus was quick to notice her distraught demeanor, his heart clenching slightly at the sight of her on the verge of tears.

"you," Sylus pointed out at the other twin, his voice firmer and authoritative, "did you cause the mess?”

…

Sylus let out a deep sigh, his stern expression softening slightly. He knew he was just being a mischievous little boy, but he also had to nip such behavior in the bud.

"You know better than to blame others for your pranks,” he said, his voice firm but gentle. "Apologize to your sister.”

The girl sniffled, the threat of tears subsiding as she accepted her brother's apology. She wiped away her stray tears with the back of her hand, a small smile forming on her face.

Sylus nodded approvingly, he patted both of them on their head gently. "There we go, now go back and play together.”

This whole time you were watching the scene with the biggest smile on your face, and Sylus was already prepared for your upcoming teasing words.

“and the father of the year goes to.. you.” ... except he didn't expect this rare sweet statement of yours. He's reminded of why he put a ring on it in the beginning.

"What can I say?" he replied, his voice filled with pride. "I have a talent for handling troublemakers." He placed both of his arms on the counter to your sides, boxing you in, "though, to be fair, they get their mischievous streaks from their mother," he added, and you gasp before turning around. burnt dinner it is.

[hoshigray]

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: Toji x fem/afab! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - oral (m! receiving) - ball-massaging - face + throat-fucking - praise - pet names (baby, cutie, mama, sweet thing) - implied that reader has given oral prior - first-time Toji finding enjoyment in receiving oral - heavy depictions of a blowjob - mention of spit.

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: "Toji has never really enjoyed oral. At least, not until Y/n went down on them for the first time…"

I was playing with NSFW prompts for the first time, and this was literally the first one it gave me…genius. (¬‿¬) guess kinda a switch-up from this oldie i did~ hope you all had a wonderful Christmas and New Year's, accept this as my welcome back present, hehe~ also tysm for 4.6k, hello????

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.6k

“…Hey, Toji?” 

“Yeah, baby?”

“…Can I…..give you a blowjob?”

Up until this point, Toji was never one to be given oral from anyone. 

Giving oral isn’t a problem. But receiving it from someone else? That’s another thing. Call it his personal preference or years of sexual experience, but the older man never actually found pleasure in it. It could be from the many inexperienced minxs he’s had to get his dick wet, whose frequent teeth and bites sabotaged the mood for him. Or probably from the others who just really didn’t appear to know what they were doing — again, ruining the mood. Or the fact that most of the time, as mentioned, he finds himself satisfying his partner at the time more than himself. 

Not that he minds at all; no, no. He finds great satisfaction in going in between someone’s legs and getting them turned on from his work. But when it comes to the thought of having his dick sucked, it’s a hard pass. Respectfully. 

Which brings us to the present: him on the couch with an arm wrapped behind your shoulders, bringing you close to him as you watch television comfortably. The ceiling lights dimmed to a warm low glow, your head draped on his shoulder as his hand rubs comforting circles on yours, and the silence only filled with the voices coming from the TV isn’t awkward in the presence of you two. Why would it be? He’s with you, his little sweet thing. And that’s all he wants right now.

So, after all the fidgeting with your thumbs and the occasion glances at him (which he noticed, of course), it was apparent that you’d soon ask him something out of the blue. What he hadn’t expected, though, was that question. 

“Pfft, that’s random,” he scoffs at the sudden question, and more subtle chuckles resort from the bashful turn of your head. God, you were so cute. “Why ask, sweet thing?”

“I was…just wondering, you know?” Your eyes travel down to your twiddling thumbs, avoiding Toji’s deep, observant emerald gaze. “We’ve been together for this long, and not once have I ever given you a blowjob. And I know, you always say you’re fine with it, but like…I really wanna give you one.”

And that’s when you muster up some confidence to peer up at him meekly, and that’s what seals the deal for Toji. Who is he to deny such puppy dog eyes from his baby? 

“Okay then,” he chortles with a smirk, the scar on his right side rooted up. It’s just a blowjob. If not for me, then for them. “Do what you do, cutie.” Little did he know that this would blow his expectations far out.

It started out nice and slow. Toji indulged in your kisses as you snuck your hand into the hem of his drawstring pants, sucking on his tongue while fingers crept inside his boxer briefs to give his cock a rub. He groans into your mouth, liking how you’re setting the mood until you take your lips away from his and slide off the couch to be between his legs. Removing his underwear to the floor, you examine his half-soft dick before using your hands to wrap around the base, massaging around it while you take the tip in your mouth. Toji sighs in bliss at the feeling of your soft licks and rolls of your tongue, shifting around to get more comfortable on the couch.

His erection becomes less and less flaccid, hardening around your mouth. This is where you decide to take in more of his length, hallowing your cheeks as you push your puffy lips down halfway down his erection. By the time you reach this base, your throat is so full of Toji’s girth that you use his sweatpants as reins for your hands as you try to give yourself a few seconds to adjust to the limb occupying your throat. You continue to suck on his cock, bobbing up and down with your saliva coating him, your tongue moving around on the underside of his dick every time you suck up to the tippy top. 

The sucks and strokes to his length become a little faster, and it’s here that Toji can’t concentrate on the television. Subtle twitches of his leg result from the hummed moan you express while taking him to the hilt. The vibrations that resonate along the inner walls of your throat are felt. It feels so good. And the tongue of yours? Fuck. His brows trench down when your tongue licks from the bottom of his ridge to the frenulum, giving his cockhead an onslaught of rough licks and kisses that has Toji exhale through his nose. “Hmmnn, fuck…Y/n, baby, y’re so good at this…Uhghh!”

You release his tip with a soft ‘plop’ with a string of saliva connecting your lips to his spit-covered cock. “Ahahhn, really?” Oh, fucking shit, don’t look at him like that. Your hooded eyes peering up at him with a soft smile while your hands maintain a stroking rhythm that has Toji squirm around your grasp. And then you surprise him with a grasp of his ballsack, oh you’re a devilish cutie. “That makes me happy to know,” you give him a giggle when Toji involuntarily bucks to your hands; the veiny limb contrasting with your pretty fingers is such a sight to see. The pulsating commotion between your legs progresses more by the second.

More dangerous licks paired with the massage to his balls as Toji huff is bliss. “Ahhh, sh–shit…Ya like how my dick tastes, mama?”

Taking his cock back into your mouth with alluringly half-lidded eyes is the answer you give him, your lips covering your teeth as your jaw relaxes to welcome his neither limb back inside your warm oral cavity. The suction of your hallow cheeks became lethal with the increased speed, your tongue now swirling around him and creating such deviant noises that only Toji focuses on despite the television vices failing to drown them out. 

Holy shit, Toji wasn’t expecting this kind of treatment at all. This was downright out of the water from all the other oral ordeals he’s had in his life. How the fuck were you so good at this!? Cupping his balls while slurping his dick was such a dangerous combo; Toji doesn’t know how long he’ll contain the urge to stand and fuck your face here and now. Goddamn, the faster you bob your lips on him, the shiver down his spine is hard to ignore. His hips jerking to your mouth; he wants to fuck your face so bad. And just looking at your ass sway while you suck on him, he knows you’re enjoying this as well. 

It reaches a point where he can’t take it anymore — he wants to go faster and harder. So Toji grabs your head as he stands up and dials the tempo to a harsher motion, propelling your lips down to his pelvis. And you’re quick not to panic, being sure to breathe when Toji smacks his testicles to your chin and ruts into your face and throat with no mercy. Toji moans at the sensation of your gummy walls wrapping around his length, hissing at your muffled wails as he hits the back of your throat. “Fsshhh—Hnngh!! Fuckin’ shit, just like that, mama, just like that…Ohhggh!”

You can feel the veins on his girth pulsate, indicating that his release is soon coming. The thrusts to your face get erratically faster, so you’re sure to grab onto his sweatpants to make sure you don’t lose balance as he spills his load down your throat. Ending it with a few rough hits to your lips, Toji groans with gritted teeth, shaky, strong legs pumping his semen for you to drink, which you merrily take with muzzled squeals on his shaft. The both of you experience the last moment of this euphoric high until Toji’s body calms down, heavy breaths going slower with every expel. He gives you a few moments to suck him off a little more before removing himself from you, gradually pulling his length, quivering with the aftershocks at the dismissal of your warm walls around him. And he jolts when you tease him with one last lick to the sensitive tip. 

“Hahhh, damn, cutie,” Toji takes a seat back on the couch, eyeing you down with a weary smirk and furrowed brows. “Since when did ya like to get down and dirty?”

You sheepishly smile back and avert your eyes down, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. “I’m glad you liked it, Toji.” 

“Sure as hell did,” he bends down to grab your chin and bring you in for a kiss. The squeaks you let out when he bites your lips are too adorable and hot to his ears. “Want me to eat you out, sweet thing?”

“Really?” God, you were too cute — beaming at him like that with such a lovely smile. 

“Sure thing. Besides, I saw the way you were movin' that ass while suckin’ me off. So, I got you,” Toji takes off his sweatpants, moving his legs to be on the couch entirely. His dick is still standing erect, and he gives you a suggestive grin before tapping his chest, a sign for you to get ready and sit on him. “Only if ya can do that shit on me again.” The request takes you aback for a minute, but you chuckle and stand up. You remove your bottoms and underwear, and Toji notices the wet spot on the material. 

Again, Toji is never one to be given oral. But if he’s going to be treated like this, you might be able to change his mind.

© 𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐲2023 – dividers from @/animatedglittergraphics-n-more.

[petriwriting]

Through it all - JJ Maybank X Reader

Summary: after an arguement with JJ over his behavior, Instead of saving Sarah, JJ dives after y/n during the storm.

Fluff! Angst! Action ig

A/N: I don’t think I’ve written for obx before. But I’m sad for obvious reasons. Spoiler warning. Basically re-writing a few scene with JJ from the last few episodes to include reader. JJ kills Groff instead of… you know.

“JJ.” You say his name as if you’re trying to soothe a venomous snake. He shakes his head, taking a sip from the bottle he had nearly finished by himself. He has been all over the place lately. sure, he had a harsh sudden realization and figured out who his real father is, and sure you were on the run, but he had no excuse to be lashing out at the only people that really truly loved him.

“JJ!” You shout, finally getting his attention. He was zoned out, drinking by himself out on the deck watching the waves crash. He turns around, the sun is illuminating his hair and his eyes match the color of the sea in the horizon. “What,” he retorts quickly, with a huge sigh. “If you’re here to lecture me I really don’t wanna hear it right now.” He snaps.

You take a step closer to him. The sea breeze is brushing through your hair, the boat rocking you back and forth gently as you lean into the railing by where JJ is standing, barely. He’s swaying gently, he’s drunk. Despite his behavior lately, you still loved him. That didn’t change, you understood he was going through a lot with the discovery of his father, his mother and his family’s toxic dynamic. It was heartbreaking to see him hurt, to see him so broken. He had just snapped at John B, saying some nasty things. So when John B had come back into the cabin very upset, expressing his anger out, you knew exactly what stubborn pessimist had caused it. You were sympathetic for JJ, knowing that likely only you could reach out to him and have him really deeply consider what you have to say. You just hoped he would be willing to listen in that moment.

“I’m not here to lecture you,” you offer slowly, treading carefully. “I’m just worried about you JJ,” you continue on. He then proceeds to cut you off promptly. “Save your tears Y/N.” His voice is fast, like a bite. It stings. “I’m not worth crying over.” He snaps back again. Taking another swig of his bottle. “Jayj, I’m serious. I love you, it hurts me to see you like this.” You plead. He shakes his head kicking his feet, while running his fingers through his hair just like his father would have an anxious fidget. “Nah. You know,” he begins with his teeth gritted. “I love you, but… nah.” He insists, his sudden burst startled you. “You shouldn't love me, that’s your problem,” he chuckles with a slightly twisted smile. You opened your mouth to speak, stunned at the sudden insult. After everything you had been through together, good and bad, you could not believe his outburst. Before you could speak he continued speaking, talking right over you.

“Just drop the act alright? You’re scared o’me, just like John B and the others. And you should be. I'm- I'm like a parasite.” He takes an exasperated sigh and rubs his temples. Then with his hands up in surrender, as if defeated, he snaps out the following hurtful phrases. “You should be scared cause guess what, Y/N?” He leans forward close to your face. “Hanging around me, I’m all bad news. And at this rate you’ll end up just like my mother.”

Tears welled in your eyes at another unnecessary insult being thrown at you. It felt like you now had a knife in your chest. “How can you say that?!” You choke out. “Just leave me alone, I’ll deal with it m’self like I always have.” He quips back. “You and I both know you can’t handle the truth.” He says, turning away from you to face the ocean and it’s ebb and flow of waves crashing in the distance. “You don’t mean that.” You stuttered, wiping your eyes and heading back inside. “Go’on!” JJ gestures you to go away. “Play cards with Sarah and Kie like everything’s so fucking great right now.” He swigs more from his bottle, closing his eyes to feel it’s affect.

. . . .

Before you know it, the storm is at its peak. You are tying things down, packing away supplies preparing for the storm ahead of you. Anything to help you prepare for the rollercoaster of waves rocking the boat violently back and fourth. You can’t help but worry that JJ is passed out or not fully realize what is going on though it would be hard to miss. Even if he was drunk. but, you’re still hurt from the arguement and you are well aware he is capable of taking care of himself. You try to have optimism that you’ll all make it out okay.

As things reach their worst, kie is freeing rafe from the supply closet and before you know it Sarah is calling out for John B. Cleo and pope are hanging on for dear life as the boat is shaken about. “Let me go,” you insist. “Stay here!” You insist before Sarah can protest or go out there herself. You find yourself outside, the air is thick and humid and the rain is drenching you every second, the cold air and waves rocking you, unable to stand steadily for more than a few seconds. you scream John B’s name and he responds with a hell. "I'm Fine! I'm Ok!" he yells. Thunder crackles through the sky and lightening strikes as the wind tangles your hair further. Unfortunately before you can make it, you take another step forward but the boat rocks and sends you flying off the deck into the mountainous mouth of the waves. John B screams desperately for you, but he is too late to help you. You heard a muffled scream, and are engulfed in a freezing cold and dangerous ocean. He stands there shocked, unable to do anything in that moment. JJ comes outside, he’s finally sobering up. He’s screaming your name, unable to see where you are with the weather and storm clouding his vision. once he realizes what has happened. You pop your head up and scream to the best you can before being pulled under the waves again. he can see you, barely, JJ acts fast, the fastest thing he’s ever done anything no hesitation, grabbing the life float and throwing it as far into the water as he can. As soon as he hears your screams, his instincts kick in and he is diving after you into the perilous dark and cold stormy waters. He disappears, and John B is left heartbroken. He thinks he just lost his best friends for good this time.

. . . .

You wake up and you are washed up on the beach, the sun is bright and the sand is damp around you. you are exhausted and sore and your head in pounding. You look around you and see nothing. No one. Panicked, you turn around and focus your eyes along the water line until your eyes meet JJs whose also coming to, about 65 feet from where you were. You must have been ripped apart by the sea, the last thing you remember is drowning. Darkness. Shaking, and soaking wet, you run to him with tears in your eyes. You are relieved to be alive, and thanking god or any other entity that would have the odds be in your favor that day. You are thankful that JJ is alive. He’s also the same way, thankful to see you. He smiles finally and sighs to himself before sprinting towards you until the two of you collide in embrace, there's sand in his hair and stuck to his back.

“I thought I lost you,” you sighed exhausted and exasperated. “I know, I know baby.” he says softly and tenderly holding you tight as if he will never let go, “I’m so sorry. For everything.” JJ says. You pull away from the embrace and he gently goes to cup your face with his rough and callused hands. “You saved my life,” you say, somewhat in disbelief of the circumstances. This is not how you had envisioned your current self to be doing, but you are thankful for every minute of it. Thankful to be alive. “I couldn’t live without you.” He replies in a desperate sigh. You lock eyes, he gazed into yours like you were the most beautifully and intricately detailed painting in a fine arts museum. He analyzed every detail of your face, scared he might not see it ever again. In return you gazed into his sea color eyes, glistening in the sun light. He looked tired, but content. Elated. “I love you JJ,” you whisper. “I love you.” He says back. “We should find the others,” you offered finally breaking the silence.

“Yeah yeah but first,” JJ cuts off his own words by pulling you towards him gently and softly into a deep and long passionate kiss. Your lips collide and you can start to feel the world melting away, like nothing mattered but each others embrace and affection. After a moment you smile slightly. “I’m never leaving you alone ever again.” JJ says sincerely. You chuckle slightly taking his had as you begin to walk further down the water line. "Back home I had a ring, but i'd really like to spend the rest of my life with you," he says. "Well before making any commitments," you smile. "The future Mrs.Maybank would like to find the others so we can celebrate properly." JJ chuckles, "Yes M'am." he says.

“Alright, now let’s find the others, I hope everyone is okay..”

. . . .

“You know,” you begin, waiting and watching out with JJ in Morocco, the hazy sun gleaming across your eyes as you are adjusting your head wrap. “They say if you find the blue crown you get a wish.” You state. “Yeah? Maybe, it sounds like nonsense.. I dunno.” He jokes slightly, you are glad he’s gotten over his slump and isn’t feeling as bad anymore. He’s acting more like himself. More like the JJ you fell in love with. “Well, since we don’t know that.” You quipped back, “what would you wish for?” You asked. JJ sort of shrugged sheepishly. “Oh you know,” he says, shaking his head. “Nice new truck with good suspension, freshly painted, fuzzy dice around the mirror,” he joked again, you chuckled slightly. “Okay seriously, anything... what would you wish for?”

JJ licks his lips, pondering the words for a slight moment. “Well I wish we could get a house back home, nothin’ fancy just somethin by the water, you and me we could get married.” He says. You brush a strand of your out of your face and flush slightly at the thought. “I wish that we could just be happy, no bullshit, no cops, just us. It sounds really nice.” He says as his expression softens. “That’s what I’d wish for. You.” He says. You step closer to him and you lock eyes. The wind is coursing through your hair. The glow is illuminating your features perfectly, JJ is secretly studying your face and how perfect it looks. “You already have me. I’m not going anywhere.” You say sternly reassuringly.

“Then I guess I don’t need a wish now do I?”

. . . .

You are running.

Running for your life. The sandstorm is swirling around you from the horizon. your eyes are red and tired and your body could give out from exhaustion if it weren’t for the adrenaline pumping through both of you. JJ has the blue crown. You are inches from success. It's so close you can taste it.

“This way come on!” You shout, JJ following behind you, you ran ahead of him.

Before you know it, there is an arm tightly restricted around you with a knife to your throat. It’s Chandler Groff. JJ’s father. You whimper as he squeezes hard enough to restrict your breathing, and you let out a desperate cry for help. “Quiet!” Groff demands. You are terrified of what he’ll do. “JAY!” You manage, one last time, something clicks in JJ and he rushes up to your rescue. “Y/N! I’m comin!” He screams.

He rushes up to you with the crown to see his father who greets him by his name. You whimper and struggle beneath Groff’s grasp. “Let her go,” JJ snarles.

“You could have stuck with me, JJ,”

Groff offers unwanted. “Think what you could’ve had,” he pleads, JJ grits his teeth as the winds tossle his hair more. “But now.. you get nothing.” Groff chimes back, his voice is hoarse and exasperated.

JJ lifts up the infamous blue crown. He looks at it wrapped up in his hand, and then to you. “No.” He shakes his head and turns to his father. “I already have everything. I have everything I ever wanted.” He says. “Things you’ll never have,” he shakes his head. Groffs eyes are full of tears, he’s unsure if this is because the man is emotional or if it’s from the irritation and the sand laden winds that have scorched him. “You want the crown,” JJ continues. For a second he pictures his life without you, and it hurts him deeply. He’d rather be dead than lose you, he realized in that moment. “Take it.” He holds it out. “I don’t want it.” He snaps. “Just Let her go. Now.” He demands.

JJ then exchanged the crown for you, and embraces you tightly and you hold him. You don’t want to let go but you are mistrusting of Groff, and you immediately turn towards him and take a step back behind JJ. “It’s a shame.” Geoff says, his expression has melted away and he seems heartbroken. “You and me. You should have given it to me,” Groff says delicately. “JayJ-“

In a swift motion, JJ is slashed in the abdomen and blood begins to soak the fabric of his clothes. You gasp, terrified. But JJ is quick, and he grabs his fathers arm before he can stab his son with a final deadly blow. Twisting groff’s arm, all in one motion that seemed like a blur, he looked into his fathers eyes full of hatred for his own blood and snatched the knife with his other hand, imapleing him in the chest.

You watch as Groff falls to the ground, gasping for life, dying. “Welcome to the family, son.” Groff snarles and heaves in pain as the knife is stuck in his chest he lets out a sad and twisted laugh. “You’re a killer just like your old man.” Groff utters his last words. JJ is already injured, now bleeding, he stumbles back, you pull the knife from Groffs chest, in case he tries to use it again in his very last effort as his eyes roll back and he lies limp on the dirt, bleeding out.

“J,” you gasp, catching him before he can fall back into the ground. “Oh my god,” you put your hands over his wound, blood is everywhere. “JJ, you’re gonna be okay,” you plead. You’re crying, and you hug him. You are trying to remember your first aid skills. “It’s gonna be fine you’re okay,” you take the wrapping of your head, and use it to apply pressure to the wound to stop the bleeding. He winches in pain. His eyes are tired and glazed over. “Oh my god,” you say and sigh, the bleeding has finally subsided. It’s no longer life threatening, but now under control. You wrap the head scarp tightly around his wound. “I’m ok,” he says his voice is scratchy and dry.

“I’m alright, hey,” he grabs your shoulder, you’re leaning down by him, “I’m not goin anywhere see?” JJ says comforting. He shouldn’t be comforting you when he was nearly killed. “You can’t get rid of me that damn easy,” he winches as he tries to sit up slightly. He grabs your face in his hands. “Fuck that hurts-" he stammers. "We did it,” he says softly after a moment... “I love you, that crown does grant wishes, because we made it out, and you’re safe.” He reassures you. Tears flood your eyes at the thought of nearly losing him, finally reeling from what happened and you lean forward and kiss him. "I won't leave you widowed that easy, now would I?" He laughs, regretting his laugh and groaning in pain. "JJ you're hurt, maybe don't joke right now," you say sternly. You always balanced each other out so perfectly.

The others shortly follow, finding Groff’s body and the crown. Pope and John B both help hold up JJ, he can barely walk from his previous injuries, but he’s okay. Everything is okay. And as it turns out, the crown does grant wishes, because yours- to keep everyone safe especially JJ, was granted.

[d-z20]

Neighbourly Care part 5 (NSFW)

Pairing: Agatha Harkness x Rio Vidal x Reader

Summary: Things become official with the MILFS but there's an unexpected guest. Back at college, your friends are still trying to set you up with someone which Agatha and Rio will NOT let that slide, so they remind you exactly who you belong to again but Rio's been scheming

-OR-

Your girlfriends take you back to fuck you but somehow it ends with Agatha tied up and Rio getting railed...

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, tiny bit of angst, smut, fluff, possessive Agathario, power bottom Rio, switch reader, implied phone sex, marking, bondage (A recv), strap on (Rio recv), mentions of overstimulation, brief edging, oral (Reader recv)

Words: 5.1k

A/N: I am BACK baby, and what better way than with an update for this fic. I thought it was about time we got to fuck Rio :)

AO3 | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Master List

Back Again

You stir faintly, the ache of exhaustion mingling with the cosy warmth of the couch. A shift in the cushions pulls you further from sleep, and you vaguely register the sensation of being lifted. Strong arms cradle you, the familiar scent of Rio’s shampoo grounding you even in your half-asleep haze.

“Shh, baby,” Rio murmurs, her voice a soothing balm. The gentle sway of her steps lulls you closer to rest, though faint snippets of conversation anchor you to the moment.

“They’re out cold,” Rio says softly, her tone carrying a rare mix of amusement and concern.

“I’m texting their parents,” comes Agatha’s voice, punctuated by the soft click of her nails on a screen. “Letting them know they’re staying here.”

The sound of soft sheets and the familiar scent of cedar envelop you as Rio lays you down on the bed, careful and deliberate. You feel the weight of the blanket pulled over you, and then the mattress dips beside you. Rio’s warm arms encircle you, pulling you close, while Agatha presses a kiss to your temple, her lips lingering for just a moment longer than necessary. Between them, you drift back into a deep sleep.

—

You can hear the sound of birds as you blink yourself awake, the warmth of Rio’s body beside you grounding you. Uncertainty knots in your stomach as you fidget with your hands, your mind racing with thoughts you’d been avoiding. What is this relationship you have with Agatha and Rio? Is it just sex? Or is there something deeper?

“Good morning,” Rio’s voice is soft, her head propped on her hand as she lies on her side facing you. Her honeyed gaze watches you with open affection.

You mumble a greeting, rubbing at your face as a familiar knot of unease tightens in your chest. Your hands continue to fidget of their own accord, fingers twisting over each other. Rio notices instantly.

“Hey,” she says softly, her brows knitting together. Her hand finds yours, stilling your nervous movements. “What’s going on?”

You hesitate, unsure of how to articulate the tangled thoughts that kept you tossing and turning in your dreams. Finally, you turn onto your side, meeting her gaze. “I don’t know what this is,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. “With you and Agatha, I mean. It’s amazing and I don’t want it to end, but is it just sex? Like it’s obvious you’ve done this before; I just want to be able to set my expectations.”

The words leave you feeling vulnerable, your cheeks warming as you search Rio’s face for a reaction. She blinks, clearly taken aback, but then her expression softens. Her thumb rubs gentle circles over the back of your hand. “Sweetheart,” she starts, her voice thick with affection. “I didn’t realise you were worried about that.”

Before she can say more, a low groan rumbles behind you. Agatha stirs, wrapping an arm around your waist and nuzzling into the crook of your neck “Mornin’,” she murmurs, her voice gravelly and laced with sleep. She presses a soft kiss to your neck, her hold tightening slightly. “What are we talking about?”

Rio glances at you, silently asking for permission to explain. When you nod, she tells Agatha about your concerns. Agatha hums thoughtfully, her lips brushing your skin as she speaks. “Well, yes, we’ve had people join us in the bedroom before,” she begins, her voice steady. “But never someone who’s become part of our lives the way you have.”

Rio nods in agreement, her hand resting lightly on your hip. “We’ve been talking about this ourselves, you know,” she admits. “About how much we like you, how much we love having you around. You’re not just a fling, cariño.”

Agatha tilts your face to meet her gaze, her eyes warm and sincere. “We like you, baby. A lot,” she says, her lips quirking into a small smile. “So, what do you say? Would you want to start dating us? Properly? ”

For a moment, all you can do is stare, their words washing over you like a warm tide. Your chest tightens, but it’s not fear—it’s overwhelming relief. You nod, your voice shaky but resolute. “Yes. I’d like that.” They both smile, their joy evident as they pull you into a tight embrace.

—

The three of you make your way downstairs for breakfast, the warm morning light filling the kitchen. Agatha and Rio are particularly handsy, their touches more purposeful now, as if relishing the newfound claim they have on you since officially calling you theirs. They brush against you, steal kisses, and touch your waist or hand at every opportunity. The domesticity of it all feels surreal but wonderful.

It perfect. Almost too perfect.

“Hey, Mom. Hey, Ma,” a voice calls from the hallway, startling you. You step away from Rio’s touch instinctively, a flush creeping up your neck as a young man with dark hair and a broad smile steps into the kitchen.

Nicholas pauses, his gaze darting between you and his mothers. “Uh, hi,” he says, his brow raising slightly. “Didn’t know you had company.”

Agatha clears her throat, stepping forward smoothly. “Y/N, this is our son, Nicholas,” she says. “Nicky, this is Y/N; your mom’s helping them with their Spanish.”

Your heart stutters, but you manage a polite smile. “Hi,” you say, your voice steady despite the butterflies in your stomach.

Nicholas grins, though there’s a flicker of curiosity in his eyes. “Nice to meet you,” he says easily. “Hope they’re not giving you too hard a time; I remember how strict they were with me.”

You laugh nervously, shaking your head to rid yourself of memories from last night. The conversation shifts and though you find yourself easing into the flow, you can’t ignore the way your chest tightens with the realisation that you might be intruding on their family time.

When breakfast wraps up, you use the opportunity to excuse yourself. “I should probably get back to my parents’ place,” you say, standing. Agatha and Rio share a look but nod in understanding, both walking you to the door to say goodbye. Out of view of Nicholas, they each press a lingering kiss to your cheek before you leave.

—

The weeks that follow are a whirlwind of classes, assignments, and finals, but Agatha and Rio are never far from your mind—or your phone, which buzzes constantly with texts from them. They visit when they can, their presence a soothing balm to the ache of missing them. On the nights they can’t, they always call, their voices filling the empty spaces of your apartment.

One evening, you’re sprawled on your bed during a video call. Agatha’s voice is low and teasing, her words dipping into a register that makes your breath hitch and sends heat rushing to your cheeks.

“Careful with that blush, sweetheart,” she purrs, a glint of mischief in her eyes. “It’s too easy to tell what I’m doing to you.”

Rio, ever playful, leans into frame, her expression positively wicked. “You’re squirming. I can see it. Wanna tell us how much you miss us, cariño?”

Their voices twine together, their suggestive remarks growing more insistent, coaxing soft whimpers from you. The call becomes a delicious blur of teasing, their words a heady mix of affection and temptation, leaving you flushed and aching for more by the time the night ends.

—

The next day, your phone buzzes with a series of texts from your friends.

Kate: Hey! You coming out with us tonight? We’re celebrating the end of finals!

Peter: We’ve barely seen you lately. Come on, you need to unwind.

You hesitate, glancing at your phone with a pang of guilt. They’re right; you’ve spent every spare moment with Agatha and Rio or on the phone with them, wrapped up in the intoxicating rhythm of their affection.

You: Fine, I’ll come. But only if it’s just a casual hangout. No matchmaking schemes.

Their replies are immediate.

Peter: Casual, I swear. Just us. Drinks and good company.

Kate: Yeah, totally chill. No schemes… maybe just a little chance to meet someone new?

You groan at the last message, already regretting your decision.

You: Seriously. No setups.

Peter: Relax! We just think it’s time you got back out there. When was your last date? Oh, right—that dickhead at the bar.

Kate: Exactly. You’ve been single forever, and we’re just saying...

They don’t know about Agatha and Rio and you dodge the topic with practiced ease.

You: I’ll come, but I mean it: Just. Hanging. Out.

Kate: Okay, okay! Pinky promise.

You shake your head, sighing as you set your phone down. It feels a little disingenuous to let them think you’re single, but explaining your situation—or even trying to—feels impossible. Besides, the thought of a casual night with friends doesn’t seem so bad... as long as they stick to their promise.

MILFS Anonymous

~ 18:49

You: Going out with my friends tonight :)

Agatha: Have fun, gorgeous. And don’t let anyone think they have a chance.

Rio: Remember: ours and ours alone. 😘

Their words make your chest warm with affection, and their possessiveness is thrilling in a way you can’t quite articulate.

—

When you arrive at the bar, the atmosphere is lively, music pulsing through the air. Your friends greet you with excited hugs and chatter.

They guide you to a table, where you’re introduced to someone new—a friend of a friend—and your group makes sure you’re seated next to them. As the night progresses and the drinks flow, your friends keep glancing at you expectantly, their unsubtle hints making it clear they’re hoping for sparks to fly. 

You deflect every attempt at their flirting, dodging their questions with vague answers, your heart too full of Agatha and Rio to even entertain the idea of anyone else.

Excusing yourself to the restroom, you pull out your phone and snap a quick picture. Your hand rests suggestively at the base of your neck, the angle teasing but not too revealing.

MILFS Anonymous

~ 20:04

You: *click to open image*

You: hey ;)

Rio: I think my hand would make a prettier necklace 👀👀

Agatha: Hello sweetheart, having a good night?

You: No :(

You: My friends are trying to set me up again 🙄

Agatha: Address. Now.

Rio: Behave yourself

You: Okay Daddy ;)

Their messages make you smile, a surge of comfort and amusement replacing the frustration. You return to your friends and the not-date, time slipping by in a blur of small talk and laughter.

Your head feels a bit fuzzy from the alcohol so when your phone buzzes, you answer it without checking who was calling.

“Hello?”

Agatha’s voice is sharp and commanding, cutting through the din. “Come outside, pet.”

The line goes dead, and your heart stutters as you make your way to the front of the bar.

The cool evening air brushes against your skin as you step out of the bar, your eyes immediately catching sight of Agatha and Rio leaning casually against their sleek black car. The sight is magnetic—Agatha’s sharp features softened by the glow of the streetlights, Rio’s gaze sweeping over you with that familiar, knowing heat.

Agatha straightens, beckoning you closer with a crook of her finger. Your legs carry you forward almost instinctively, your heart hammering in your chest. The moment you’re within reach, her hand snakes to the back of your head, fingers tangling tightly in your hair. She pulls you forward, crashing her lips against yours in a possessive kiss that leaves you breathless. Her grip tightens slightly, a subtle reminder of her dominance, and you whimper into her mouth, too stunned to resist.

She pulls back only slightly, her lips brushing yours as she murmurs, “We told you to behave.”

Before you can form a reply, she spins you around with practiced ease, your back pressed firmly to the car. Her lips claim yours again, harder this time, her tongue sweeping past your parted lips with an intensity that leaves your knees weak. Her thigh presses between your legs, eliciting a desperate moan that you barely manage to stifle.

Agatha chuckles darkly, her mouth trailing down to your neck. She lingers there, her teeth grazing your sensitive skin before sinking in just enough to leave a mark—a clear, unmistakable declaration of ownership. Your world narrows to the sensation of her lips, her tongue, and the faint sting of her teeth. Somewhere in the haze, you hear Rio’s voice, her tone low and amused.

“We’re going to have to keep a closer eye on you,” Rio says, though her words barely register in your muddled mind.

When Agatha finally pulls back, she smooths her hands over your arms, steadying you as she takes in the flushed, dazed expression on your face. Her eyes gleam with satisfaction. “I’ll see you later,” she says, her voice soft but commanding. Without another word, she climbs into the car and starts the engine.

You turn to Rio, expecting her to follow, but she doesn’t move. Instead, she leans down, pressing a lingering kiss to Agatha’s lips through the open window. The kiss is slow and intimate, leaving no doubt about their connection. When Agatha finally drives off, Rio turns back to you with a knowing smile.

“Come on, sweetheart,” she says, taking your hand and leading you back into the bar.

The atmosphere feels almost surreal as Rio adds a chair to your table, effortlessly inserting herself into the group. Your friends are gawking, their eyes darting between you and Rio with barely concealed curiosity—and amusement.

“Hi, I’m Rio,” she introduces herself, her tone casual yet self-assured. She slides into the seat between you and the would-be date, her presence commanding as she rests her hand on your shoulder. “I’ve heard so much about all of you.”

Your friends exchange glances, their smirks widening. They know. They’ve always known about your soft spot for older women, and Rio’s arrival explains why you’ve been rejecting all of their attempts to set you up.

Rio’s touch is constant—her fingers brushing against the back of your neck, her hand settling on your thigh. The warmth of her palm seeps through the fabric of your pants, sending a steady pulse of heat coursing through you. She trails her hand higher, her grip firm but teasing, and when she squeezes the sensitive flesh at the apex of your thighs, your breath hitches audibly.

“You okay?” Kate asks, her tone laced with mischief.

You try to answer, but the words come out in a stuttering mess, your thoughts scrambled by Rio’s touch. Her lips twitch with amusement, her fingers giving one last squeeze before she straightens, glancing at her phone as it buzzes.

“Well,” Rio says, tucking her phone back into her pocket. “I think it’s time we were off.” She stands, extending a hand to you with an easy smile.

Your friends exchange knowing looks as Rio says her goodbyes, her tone warm but unmistakably firm when she glares briefly at your would-be date before leading you out. The Uber is already waiting outside, and the moment the door shuts behind you, Rio’s hands are on you.

She cups your face, her lips crashing against yours in a kiss that’s all heat and urgency. Her hands roam over your body, pulling you impossibly close as the car speeds away. By the time it stops outside a hotel, your skin is flushed, your breaths coming in shallow gasps.

You realise it’s the same hotel as last time, and as Rio comes to a stop and knocks on a door, you see it’s even the same room. Agatha opens the door, clad in the same purple lace lingerie that had stolen your breath the first night you were together, her eyes glinting with anticipation.

“Welcome back, sweetheart,” she purrs, stepping aside to let you in.

Rio’s hand settles on your lower back, guiding you into the room. The door shuts behind you with a soft click, and you barely have time to process the warm light and familiar scent of the suite before Agatha steps closer, her sharp eyes raking over your body as she trails her fingers along your jaw. Her lips crash against yours, rough and unyielding, and you can feel the smirk she wears as you melt into her touch. Rio’s hands slip around your waist from behind, her warmth grounding you even as your knees threaten to give out, pulling your pants and underwear down, exposing the small wet patch on the crotch of the fabric.

“Look at you,” Agatha murmurs, her voice dripping with satisfaction. “So eager for us.”

Before you can respond, Agatha grips your chin, tilting your head to expose your neck. Her teeth graze your skin, and then she bites—not hard enough to hurt, but enough to leave another deep, blooming mark. You gasp, the sting mingling with the heat pooling low in your belly.

Rio’s hands are no less demanding, sliding beneath your shirt to trace the curve of your waist. “Ours,” she murmurs, her breath hot against your ear. Her nails scratch lightly against your skin as she pulls the fabric over your head, leaving you exposed to their hungry gazes.

The two of them manoeuvre you effortlessly toward the bed, their touches a coordinated symphony of dominance and affection. Agatha’s lips find yours again as she pushes you down onto the soft mattress, her weight pinning you in place. Rio climbs onto the bed beside you, her hands stroking over your thighs, her fingers curling possessively into your skin.

“You’re going to let us make you ours all over again,” Agatha whispers, her voice a low promise that sends shivers down your spine.

Agatha’s mouth trails lower, her teeth and tongue marking a path down your collarbone and chest. Meanwhile, Rio’s lips find the sensitive skin behind your ear, her hands guiding your thighs apart as she peppers kisses along your jaw. Their movements are synchronised and calculated, making you helpless against the overwhelming tide of pleasure they stir within you.

The room fills with the sound of heavy breaths and muffled gasps as they leave no inch of you untouched, no patch of skin unclaimed. Agatha’s marks bloom like flowers across your body—your neck, your shoulders, the swell of your hips—while Rio’s touch is a steady, grounding presence that leaves you trembling beneath them.

Agatha’s lips never leave yours as she manoeuvres you with ease, her strength evident as she pulls you on top of her. You straddle her, hands planted on either side of her head, and the kiss deepens. Her nails rake along your back, leaving a burning trail that only spurs your arousal further. You’re so caught up in the taste of her and the heat of her skin beneath yours that you barely register Rio’s movements around the bed.

The sound of soft rope sliding against the bedframe should catch your attention, but Agatha’s demanding kisses and the press of her body beneath yours make it impossible to focus on anything else. Rio, ever the planner, works quickly and quietly. By the time she whispers in your ear, her warm breath sending shivers down your spine, the trap is nearly set.

“Pin her arms above her head, darling,” Rio whispers, her voice a mix of command and playfulness.

Without hesitation, you do as you’re told, grabbing Agatha’s wrists and stretching her arms over her head. Agatha lets out a low, approving growl. Her darkened gaze flickers to you with a teasing smirk, but before she can retake control, Rio moves in.

In a swift, practiced motion, Rio ties Agatha’s wrists to the bedposts. It takes Agatha a moment to realise what’s happening, her smirk faltering as she tests the bonds. “Really, Rio?” she drawls, though her eyes glint with intrigue rather than annoyance.

“Really,” Rio replies smoothly, a wicked grin curling her lips as she steps back to admire her handiwork. Agatha’s ankles are already tied, spread wide, and leaving her entirely open. “You made me watch and wait, my love; now it’s your turn.”

Rio turns her attention back to you, her eyes filled with a mix of pride and desire. “Off,” she instructs gently, her hands guiding you away.

You reluctantly climb off Agatha, her gaze never leaving yours, though it’s now tinged with a mix of curiosity and challenge. She looks breathtaking, her hair splayed out on the pillows, her body bound and vulnerable yet still exuding power.

Rio’s hands move to her own clothes, slipping her shirt over her head and shimming out of her pants with practiced ease. Beneath, she wears an emerald-green set of lingerie, the delicate lace hugging her curves and highlighting the strength in her frame. The sight leaves you breathless, and you can’t help but stare as Rio tosses her clothes aside with deliberate nonchalance.

“I’ve been thinking,” Rio says, her voice soft but firm as she steps closer to you. “You’ve not actually had the chance to fuck one of us since you failed to do what you were told.”

You blink, caught off guard by Rio’s declaration, your cheeks heating as you stammer out an incoherent response. “Uh… yeah, I guess,” you manage, your voice barely above a whisper.

Rio chuckles, the sound low and rich as she closes the distance between you, handing you a harness. “That’s going to change now,” she murmurs, her dark eyes locking onto yours. The weight of the harness in your hands makes your heart race and your mind flashes back to the last time you and Rio indulged in each other without Agatha’s participation in this very room—and the punishment that followed.

You glance nervously toward Agatha, who raises a single, unimpressed brow at your hesitation. Sensing your uncertainty, Rio leans in, her breath warm against your ear. “Relax, darling,” she murmurs, her tone soft but firm. “She’ll never admit it, but she likes this.”

Agatha scoffs from her place on the bed, her lips curving into a faint smirk. “Don’t push your luck,” she drawls, though there’s no real heat in her voice. Her eyes gleam with intrigue, even as she pretends disinterest.

Rio doesn’t miss a beat. Removing her lace panties, she climbs onto the bed, positioning herself with her back resting against Agatha’s restrained body, her movements smooth and deliberate. Agatha lets out a soft whine at the pressure, but her gaze stays fixed on you, a mix of challenge and anticipation in her expression.

Your fingers fumble with the harness as you step into it, the straps snug against your hips as you secure it. That’s when you notice, or rather feel, the grinding pad built into the design, its texture brushing against you with tantalising promise. You shiver at the sensation—a rush of heat pooling between your thighs as you adjust the fit. The thought of what’s to come sends a pulse of arousal through you, and you can’t help but bite your lip, your eyes darting between Rio and Agatha.

“Ready?” Rio asks, her voice soft but commanding as she watches you with a knowing smile.

Your hands shake slightly as you reach for the bottle of lube on the nightstand, slicking up the harness with nervous precision. Rio watches you intently, her head tilted back against Agatha’s torso, an expectant smirk playing on her lips. Once you’re ready, you climb onto the bed and position yourself over her, your knees on either side of her thighs. The heat between the three of you is palpable, tension thrumming in the air as you align yourself and sink down onto her.

You start slow and tentative, testing the rhythm. The grinding pad against you is more distracting than you anticipated, the friction sparking waves of pleasure with each motion. Rio exhales a soft, contented sigh, her hands settling on your hips to guide you. But it doesn’t take long for the look on her face—a mix of delight and impatience—to spur you into moving faster.

The sounds Rio makes are intoxicating: soft moans and deep, husky gasps that make your skin tingle. “Harder,” she commands, her voice rough with need. Her nails dig into your hips, urging you to obey, and you do, thrusting harder and faster. The slick grind of the harness against you and the sight of Rio’s pleasure-blissed expression send your pulse racing.

You don’t know why you do it—maybe it’s instinct, maybe it’s the intoxicating chemistry between you—but your hand rises, and you press two fingers against Rio’s lips. Her gaze snaps to yours, sharp and electric, and without hesitation, she takes them into her mouth. The heat of her tongue swirls around your fingertips, and you swear you feel your stomach drop with the intensity of your arousal.

Behind Rio, Agatha lets out a low breathless “Oh, fuck,” her voice ragged. You glance over Rio’s shoulder to see Agatha’s hips bucking desperately against Rio’s back, her restraint futile against her own need. The sight and sound of her breaking composure sends a jolt through Rio, her expression twisting into something feral, manic even. Her nails grip you tighter, and her voice shatters into a desperate moan as her body tenses and she comes undone beneath you.

The clenching of the harness and the relentless friction push you over the edge moments later. You cry out, collapsing against Rio’s chest as you ride out the waves together, your breathing ragged and uneven. Her arms wrap around you, holding you close as you both come down from the high.

It’s only then you notice the faint shuffle of movement. You lift your head to find Agatha free of the ropes, her arms and legs untied. Her lips are curled into a sly smile, and her gaze soft with amusement and hunger as she moves toward you. Before you can speak, she places her hands on your hips and gently manoeuvres you onto your back.

“You two are quite the pair,” Agatha murmurs, her tone carrying equal parts fondness and teasing as she takes off the harness and presses a soft kiss to your hip. She rests her head there, her fingers tracing lazy patterns on your thighs. “But I think it’s my turn now.”

You glance down at Agatha, her head resting on your hip as her fingers idly trace patterns across your thighs. “How did you…?” you ask softly, your voice still trembling from the aftershocks of your climax.

Agatha lifts her head, her lips curving into a knowing smile. “Being able to get out of restraints is one of my boundaries,” she explains, her voice smooth and steady. “I’ve never been fully comfortable with giving up all control. It’s just how I am.”

You nod, her words sinking in as you process the vulnerability she’s just shared. “I understand,” you reply sincerely, your gaze locking with hers. The trust between you feels solidified in this moment, a quiet bond of mutual respect and understanding.

Before you can say more, Rio’s presence shifts beside you. Her hands cup your face, tilting your head so her lips can meet yours. The kiss is deep and languid, her tongue teasing yours in a way that pulls you further into the haze of pleasure still clinging to your body. Her warmth anchors you, a grounding presence as your senses start to spiral again.

Meanwhile, Agatha’s fingers trail down your thighs, spreading you open with deliberate care. She presses soft kisses to your inner thighs, working her way closer to your still-sensitive core. “Just cleaning you up,” she murmurs, her breath hot against your skin. But when her tongue flicks out to tease your bundle of nerves, it’s clear her intentions are far from innocent.

A jolt of pleasure shoots through you, and you gasp against Rio’s lips, your hands instinctively clutching at her shoulders. Agatha takes her time, her tongue slow and precise as it circles your sensitive nub. The overstimulation is almost too much, your body trembling under her ministrations, but she knows exactly when to ease up and how to pull you back from the edge only to push you closer again.

Rio’s hands move to your waist, holding you steady as your hips start to buck against Agatha’s mouth. “You’re so beautiful like this,” Rio whispers against your lips, her tone filled with awe and hunger. Her words make your chest tighten, and you feel yourself unravelling again.

Agatha’s tongue works you relentlessly, her rhythm increasing as she senses how close you are. When she sucks gently on your clit, the tension inside you snaps, and you cry out, your body arching off the bed as the climax crashes over you. Waves of pleasure ripple through you, leaving you shaking and gasping for air.

As the intensity ebbs, Agatha places one last kiss on your trembling thighs before resting her head against your hip again, her fingers stroking your skin soothingly. Rio lies beside you, her hand tracing lazy circles on your stomach as she watches you with a tender smile.

“You’re amazing,” Rio murmurs, pressing a kiss to your temple. Agatha hums her agreement, but instead of her usual sharp quip or teasing remark, she stays quiet, her head resting on your hip and her fingers trailing softly over your skin. You glance down at her, noting the slightly dreamy look in her eyes and the way her shoulders seem to relax completely for the first time all night.

Rio notices too. Shifting her focus, she slides closer to Agatha, her hand gently brushing back a stray strand of hair from her face. “You okay, love?” she asks softly, her voice filled with a tenderness that makes your chest tighten. Agatha lets out a contented hum, leaning into Rio’s touch without hesitation.

“More than okay,” Agatha murmurs, her voice uncharacteristically soft. Rio smiles, her fingers tracing over Agatha’s cheek before pressing a kiss to her forehead. The sight tugs at something deep inside you, the intimacy between them wrapping you in its warmth.

As the moments stretch on, Rio encourages Agatha to sit up, her hands steadying her as she guides her toward the pillows. “Come here,” Rio whispers, wrapping her arms around Agatha and pulling her close. You watch as Agatha melts into Rio’s embrace, her sharp edges softened as she nestles against her chest.

You shift closer, draping an arm over both of them, your hand finding Agatha’s and lacing your fingers together. The three of you lie there in a tangle of limbs, the room quiet save for the steady rhythm of your breathing and the occasional murmur of sweet reassurances from Rio. For the first time in what feels like forever, there’s nothing to do but bask in each other’s presence, your bodies and hearts entwined in a shared sense of contentment.

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I am so sorry for going MIA for a bit there but hopefully this chapter makes up for it my darlings <3 the ending was inspired by Kathryn's iheart interview where she said she thinks Agatha would just want to be babied sometimes

Requests are back open now that I can actually write again :D

and also just my asks in general, I get bored and want to talk to y'all 👀

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taglist: @aceday @valarmorghuli @ctrlamira @lezbean-with-a-side-of-dilfs @noturlondonboy @darkangelchronicles @beezlebee16 @kiaralee25 @4theluvofsapphos @lez-zuha @jujuu23 @gaylorvader

[appocalipse]

MAKE IT EASY : ̗̀➛ STEVE HARRINGTON

・❥・part 1・part 2 ❥・3.8k words

Summary: steve asks you to pretend to be his girlfriend for a family dinner. the problem is: after all is said and done, he gives you the cold shoulder. have you done something wrong?

requested by my beloved @stevebabey 🥺

a/n: this was supposed to be a drabble, and now, oh well...I had to split it into two parts. here we go.

・❥・

It was the epitome of a terrible idea.

And it had started that day. 

The very moment Steve walked into the diner your family owned, you knew something was wrong. Not that it was uncommon for Steve to visit you at work — not at all. In fact, it was almost a weekly occurrence, the highlight of it, in fact, for you; the odd part was that Steve never showed up alone, without at least a few of the kids. On that Wednesday night, he was not only alone but also strangely nervous.

You rarely saw Steve get nervous. His confidence was as much a part of him as his signature perfect hair. But tonight, his hands fidgeted with the edge of his jacket, eyes darting around the diner as if searching for an escape route. He looked like he was trying to convince himself to leave.

Weird.

"Steve," you greeted him with a warm smile, hoping to ease his obvious tension a little bit as he approached the counter. "You look like you've seen a Demogorgon."

It was supposed to be a joke. You only felt comfortable saying that now because — luckily — things had been quiet at Hawkins. It had been a long time since you and your friends had to deal with one. But something about Steve's demeanor really made you wonder if there was more to this visit than just a friendly catch-up.

He tried for a convincing chuckle, but it came out tinged with a hint of sadness instead. "I wish," he said, and then quickly shook his head, "Actually no, of course not. I kinda…There's something I wanted to-"

You furrowed your brows, concern knitting your features together. At this point, Steve's tension seemed to be rubbing off on you.

"Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, everything's fine, just…can we talk?"

"Of course."

He glanced around the diner, gaze briefly flitting over the empty tables and the neon glow of the jukebox. "Not here," he murmured, voice barely audible above the din of conversation and clinking dishes. It was a busy night, despite being Wednesday. "Can you, like, take a break?"

For Steve, of course you could.

Curiosity mingled with concern, and you followed his lead, stepping out into the cool night air. The streets were bathed in the soft glow of streetlights, casting elongated shadows that danced upon the pavement. You leaned against the side of the building, your eyes fixed on Steve, awaiting an explanation for his beyond unusual behavior.

He raked his fingers through his hair, a nervous habit that seemed magnified in this moment. "Look," he began, his voice tinged with a vulnerability you hadn't heard before, "I need a favor- a big one."

Oh, Jesus. "Steve," you placed a hand over your chest, breathing a sigh of relief. "For a moment there I thought you were going to say something terrible. A favor? C'mon, sure. What do you want me to do?"

Steve's eyes met yours, his gaze earnest and…vulnerable?

"I... I need you to pretend to be my girlfriend... Just for one night!" he quickly added, like he was afraid you might misinterpret his request, say no even before he could finish… but no, of course you wouldn't. Far from it. 

Who wouldn't want to date Steve Harrington?

"But why would you-"

"My parents," Steve interjected, tone deeply tinged with unease, "they're in town."

"Oh." Steve rarely ever spoke about his parents, and their mere presence seemed to have stirred a sense of apprehension within him. "Are they still... difficult?" 

You knew you were touching scars, deep scars. You made sure to be gentle.

Steve sighed, gaze fixed on the ground. 

"Yeah, you could say that," a hint of frustration colored his voice, as if he were carrying on his shoulders the weight of every little judgemental glare they had ever sent his way. "Nothing I do is ever enough for them. They've always been focused on money and success. To them, that's the measure of worth. And because I don't fit their mold of the perfect, ambitious son, they treat me like…well, you know how they treat me."

Indeed, you knew.

Steve looked like he didn't know you were unable to say no to him.

And that's how you put yourself into one hell of a mess.

+

It's Saturday night and you're standing in front of the mirror, desperately trying to zip up your stupid dress. Why anyone would put a zipper in the back of a dress, in the most difficult possible place for a person to reach on their own, is something you are unable to fathom.

But then again, maybe you're the stupid one in this story, you think bitterly, since it was you who chose the dress with the zipper in the back in the first place.   

Why are you trying so hard, though?

"I'm not," you tell yourself out loud, stubbornly.

There is a big pile of discarded clothes on your bed that says otherwise.  

With a feeling akin to fear bubbling in your stomach, you glance at the clock. It's almost seven. For fuck's sake. 

You're late. 

Steve will arrive soon, and you are apparently unable to close the damn zipper of your own dress, no matter in which awkward positions you try twisting yourself into…you just can't reach it.

The doorbell rings.

The world is truly a dark place, isn't it?      

You freeze. It can only be Steve. Shit, shit, shit! For a moment, you consider the idea of simply not opening the door, turning off the lights and pretending you never agreed to take part in this madness that is dining with the Harringtons.

HA! As if you'd really be able to turn your back on Steve. 

You take a deep breath, accepting the battle you just lost, and decide that your only and best option is to simply open the door and ask Steve for help — mortified or not. With no choice but to leave the dress with the zipper still open and your back somewhat exposed, you quickly walk to the door to open it.

"Sorry, I'm late," you say, a little out of breath. "I had a little problem with the dress and I... flowers?"   

Flowers, for sure. Steve holds a beautiful bouquet of red roses. He looks at you for a moment, then his eyes run over the partly open dress and your exposed skin for a couple of seconds too long to be accidental. You swallow thickly.

"Yeah I..." he shakes his head, a little uncomfortable standing there, and then his eyes meet yours. "The flowers are for you. Do you want me to...?" he mimics the motion of closing a zipper.

You feel your cheeks burn with embarrassment, but there is no choice but to accept. You look at him, a mix of gratitude and nervousness in your eyes.  

"Yeah, that would be great," you reply, stumbling over the words. 

If he notices, he doesn't say anything.  

Steve comes closer and hands you the bouquet, your fingers briefly touching his. You catch a whiff of his cologne — citrusy fruit and wood notes — as you turn around, brushing your hair away from your neck.    

For a moment, Steve does nothing, and you wonder if he is just figuring out the best way to close the zipper…or something else entirely. 

His touch ghosts down your bare back before his hand finally, finally finds the zipper. Slowly, he pulls it up, inch by inch, and you hold your breath for a moment, lost in a feeling your best friend is definitely not supposed to evoke in you. You feel the dress tighten, fabric adjusting to your body, his fingers inevitably brushing your skin and sending unexpected tingles up your spine. You try to ignore the trail of electricity left by the tip of his fingers as you turn to face him, eyes finding his.

"There you go", he murmurs, taking his hands off you and taking a small step back. "You look very... girlfriend."  

You laugh.   

"Thank you", you say softly, your heart beating faster. "You also look very boyfriend."

A small smile plays on Steve's lips, a flush creeping up his cheeks. Or maybe it's just the cold night breeze coming through the open door...   

Steve's gaze drifts to your lips and lingers there for way too long to be accidental. He is so close that he starts crushing the bouquet between the two of you…

Something clicks inside of you. Common sense, perhaps.

"Thank you... for the flowers."

The spell breaks; he moves away so fast that you almost drop the flowers on the floor.   

"Yeah, uh, no problem," he says quickly, regaining his composure. "Ready to go?"

Disappointment stabs at you, but you try to hide it. Maybe you imagined too much, read signs where there were none.  

"Sure. I'll just put the flowers in a vase."

It's an excuse to catch your breath. You walk to the kitchen, put water in the first clean container you find and put the flowers in it. Deep breaths, deep breaths.

Your heart is racing and yet nothing has happened. It's just dinner, you tell yourself, I've had dinner with Steve and the others before. It's just dinner.   

So why did you try so hard to look beautiful? insists the other voice in your mind. You decide it's best not to answer.

"You okay?"  

Steve is at the kitchen door, all concern and soft brown eyes.  You must have taken too long.

"Yes, I'm fine," you reply, forcing a smile to calm your own anxiety. "I was just taking care of the flowers. Ready to go?"

Steve nods. A gentleman, he opens the car door for you to get in. It's a short drive to the Harrington house, and you take the opportunity to try to calm your nerves. Looking out the window, you watch the city lights blinking as you approach your destination.

You look at him. You have the impression that Steve is driving slightly slower than necessary.

"Can I ask you something?" you say, unsure.

Steve briefly glances at you before returning his attention to the road, looking so stiff you're under the impression he might break his back at any moment.

"Sure, what's up?"

"Why did you ask me to pretend to be your girlfriend? I mean, I understand the part about your parents…but why didn't you bring someone you're actually dating or something?"

There's a brief moment of silence before Steve responds, his voice a bit softer.

"Actually, I'm not really dating anyone at the moment," he admits. "And when my parents mentioned the dinner, I kind of panicked. I didn't want to show up alone and face more questions about my life, you know?"

"I know," you respond, understandingly. "And why did you choose me specifically?"

He looks away for a moment before answering.

"Because you're perfect," he says, finally looking back at you. Then quickly, as if he only just realized the words slipped out on their own, he adds, nervously staring back at the road, "I mean, my parents, they... you're perfect for them. They're going to love you."

You feel a mix of surprise, satisfaction, and confusion with Steve's response. You try not to read any deeper meaning behind the words, telling yourself not to notice how he quickly tries to disguise them.

"I see," you reply, although you don't really understand anything. Steve seems to say one thing when he means another. "Well, I hope I can do well. I mean, I'm not very convincing when I lie."

Steve smiles briefly and nods.

"I'm sure you'll be great. Just... be yourself."

You appreciate Steve's vote of confidence and focus on staying calm as the car approaches the Harringtons' house. Although there's still a lingering questioning in your mind about Steve's earlier response, you decide to set it aside for now and focus on the immediate task.

Steve parks the car, and you both step out together. Nervousness returns as you approach the front door. You exchange a quick glance with Steve, seeking mutual encouragement.

As you walk toward the house's entrance, Steve's hand finds yours. He gently squeezes it, and you're not sure if he's trying to convey or seek comfort himself. You don't mind anyway.

The door opens, revealing Steve's parents, Mr. and Mrs. Harrington. As you prepare to enter their house, they cast evaluative glances your way, as you had expected. Mrs. Harrington's smile seems a bit forced, while Mr. Harrington maintains a serious expression you can't even begin to try to read.

It's not like you expected anything different.

"Mom," says Steve in lieu of a greeting. "Dad."

"Steve, you finally made it," says Mrs. Harrington, her tone somehow a mix of relief and disapproval. "And this must be your... girlfriend."

Steve maintains his composure as he introduces you, although you can sense a slight tension in his shoulders. It's only when he says your last name that Steve's parents' gazes turn into something completely different, almost a scientific interest.

Hawkins is a small place. Your parents' business is respected enough in town.

All eyes turn to you, and you try not to show the insecurity you feel inside. Mr. Harrington studies you for a moment, his penetrating gaze seeming to assess your suitability for his son.

"Nice to meet you. I'm Mr. Harrington," he finally says, extending an unusually large hand for a formal greeting.

You shake his hand firmly, trying to convey a confidence you're not quite sure you feel. "The pleasure is mine, Mr. Harrington. Thank you for the invitation."

Mrs. Harrington still seems a bit unsettled but composes herself as she invites you inside. You're making your way toward the dining room when you feel Steve's hand intertwine with yours again, and when your gaze meets his, he's smiling.

Thank you, he mouths.

You smile back.

During dinner, you make an effort to be as pleasant and interesting as you can possibly be in the eyes of Steve's parents, responding politely and trying to find points of common interest. In turn, Steve makes an effort to showcase his worth, defending his accomplishments, however small and sharing his plans for the future, painting an image of maturity that, you can tell by the look in his parents' eyes, they were not expecting.

Throughout the evening, you realize that although Steve's parents are demanding and neglectful in many aspects, they also seem to have their own insecurities and concerns. They want the best for Steve, even if their way of expressing it is at least…unusual.

As the night progresses, you find yourself navigating this strange family dynamic better and better, to the point where Steve's parents' attention is fully on you, and it doesn't even feel that uncomfortable anymore. You even laugh at one point.

By the end of the dinner, as you two prepare to leave, you notice a very similar expression of relief on the faces of Steve's parents. They seem to have found some kind of approval in the way you both behaved together during the evening.

As you say goodbye, Mr. Harrington extends his hand again, but this time, his handshake is warmer, less formal, and Mrs. Harrington's smile almost seems genuine. Almost.

"It was a pleasure having you here," she says. "You should bring her more often, Steve."

You and Steve exchange a look of surprise. Had you somehow managed to create a connection with his parents?

As you walk away from the Harringtons' house, Steve's hand finds yours for the third time that night, and an optimistic part of you registers the fact that there's no one else here to see. He gently squeezes it, his brown eyes filled with gratitude when they meet yours.

"You were amazing," he says, genuinely smiling.

In the car, during the ride back, you both talk animatedly about the night and his parents' reactions. The tension from dinner seems to have diminished, leaving you both more relaxed and confident.

When you arrive in front of your house, Steve turns off the car and gets out to accompany you to the front door, even after you— out of politeness, mind you — said it's really not necessary. 

"You know, I didn't expect everything to go so well tonight," says Steve, with a playful smile. "I can't believe I'm saying this about a dinner with my parents, but thanks to you, it was even fun."

You laugh. "I kinda had fun too. I think we did better than we thought possible."

"You're amazing," he says again, and this time his voice carries a softer, more intimate tone. His eyes meet yours, shining, and you see admiration there…maybe, you dare to think, something even deeper.

The silence grows tense. Your heart races. There's something special happening between you, you know there is; this goes beyond mere friendship or pretending to be a couple for one night…doesn't it?

Are you imagining this?

"Steve..."

You can't finish before he's leaning in slowly, and you're almost certain his eyes are fixed on your lips. For a feverish moment, you think Steve is going to kiss you.

He tilts his head last second. You feel the softness of his lips brushing against your cheek a moment later, a light and brief kiss, mouth almost uncertain against your warm skin….and then it's over.

Steve pulls back slowly. 

"Goodnight," he says, eyes soft, smile softer. "Thank you…for today."

"You're welcome."

It's only when you enter the house that the dress dilemma comes to mind. 

Well…shit.

The zipper at the back is still unreachable for you, and you can't undo it yourself unless you use scissors — which, considering the price you paid for it, you really don't want to do.

With few options and too much embarrassment, you decide to call Steve back while you still can.

"Steve?" you practically shout, your embarrassment immediately doubling. He's about to open the door of his trusted BMW when he turns to you, confused and unfairly handsome under the street light.

Suddenly using the scissors on the dress doesn't seem like such a bad idea anymore.

Well, too late.

"Could you, you know... " you ask, gesturing to the back of your dress, "help me with the zipper?"

His initial surprise quickly gives way to a nervous smile.

"Sure. What kind of fake boyfriend would I be if I didn't help?"

"I'm sure that's one of the many job duties."

"Definitely. And I strive to be a top-notch fake boyfriend."

He steps in. With the door closed behind the two of you, the atmosphere takes on a sense of intimacy and anticipation.

"I really can't reach the zipper," you feel the need to explain, even more flustered by his silence.

"No problem," Steve says with that gentle tone that makes your heart do funny things inside your chest. "Turn around."

You turn so that he can reach the dress' zipper, and now you're facing the large oval mirror in the hallway, with Steve standing right behind you.

He reaches out gently, his fingers lightly brushing the back of your dress.

Breathe in. 

The temperature around you seems to rise a few degrees.

Breath out. 

You feel the gentle pressure of his fingers as he starts to slide the zipper down. He touches your skin and you tell yourself that this is inevitable, that he didn't mean to…but he lingers. Lingers just enough for you to tense up and let out a breathless sigh you certainly didn't intend to.

"Are you okay?" Steve asks, his voice soft, filled with concern. You know he's looking at you through the mirror and that's precisely why you keep your gaze on the floor. "Are my fingers cold?"

"No, your fingers..." your voice sounds hoarse. You clear your throat. "...it's fine, I'm okay."

I'm great. I'm more than okay. Nothing out of the ordinary happening here.

However, when the zipper seems to momentarily get stuck — because of course  it had to — the two of you exchange equally panicked looks through the mirror, though perhaps for different reasons. An uncomfortable silence fills the air as Steve tries to fix the issue.

"I'm... it's just... sorry, it seems to be stuck."

There's a moment of awkward silence as he tries to figure out a way to open the zipper. You can feel the tension in the air as he struggles to handle the situation.

"Are you sure you know what you're doing?" you joke, desperately trying to ease the tension.

Steve lets out a low laugh, his warm breath gently caressing your neck.

"Absolutely," he replies, his voice slightly husky. Then, probably without so much as noticing, he adds, "I've taken off many dresses before."

Oh.

"Steve-"

Steve doesn't give up. With skilled fingers, he adjusts the position of the zipper and makes another attempt. It moves.

"We're almost there," he murmurs softly, his voice close to your ear.

Finally, with a smooth motion, the zipper gives way, sliding all the way down. A sigh of relief escapes your lips, and you turn around to face Steve, finding his eyes filled with excitement.

"I did it!"

His enthusiastic smile soon gives way to something else as he realizes how close — and technically partly undressed — you are.

And close you are, so very close. Close enough that you and Steve are somehow breathing the same air now.

Close enough, you realize, that a slight tilt of the head and...you'd be kissing.

Kissing.

Did he notice that too?

You hold your dress up over your chest to make sure it doesn't fall because, well…no matter how distracted you are, it's not enough that you'd risk a wardrobe malfunction that'll leave you standing there naked in front of Steve Harrington.

"...thanks," you manage a whisper, lips a hair's breadth away from his. You do know that Steve has no reason not to go now that dinner is over and everything went (surprisingly) well, but a part of you wonders if maybe…

Steve's hands hover around your waist as if unsure of what to do next. 

So close...

You hold still.

In that breathless silence, you're under the impression that Steve leans closer, even if just the slightest bit, maybe without even noticing. 

"Steve…" you slowly tilt your head to the side.

Steve's heart is pounding in his chest as he feels the warmth of your breath against his lips. Stop, he thinks. His eyes flutter closed, and Steve can't help but lean in just a little bit more. 

He raises his arm as if to touch you, wanting to touch you, to hold your face, to bring you closer…but he stops with one of his hands hovering near your cheek.

He pulls away with a gasp, his hands flying up to his face in shock. "I should-" he stammers. "I need to go."

Bam.

Door closed.

And just like that, he's out of the house before you can even open your eyes properly.

He just…pulled away. 

What the hell was that?

[buckyalpine]

Mob Bucky likes his innocent date ft smut

Sigh. I wanted this to be wholesome but it’s horny instead I’m sorry. Might delete tbh. Imagine devilishly gorgeous mob Bucky getting joy out of making his shy date flustered til she’s tripping on her words and unable to speak. He got Steve to find him a date for an event in the evening, uninterested in having to actually find one for himself. He just wants a pretty thing on his arm that he could maybe fuck at the end of the night. Between busy schedules and mob work, Steve doesn’t find anyone so he scrambles to the last person he can think of.

His sisters best friend.

You’re not at all what he was expecting.

He walks down the long staircase in his all black suit, beard trimmed, his cologne intoxicating, coking an eyebrow when he sees the shy thing waiting for him that he’s supposed to go with.

You nearly squeak when he stands before you, too nervous to say anything, your heart running a million miles a minute, knowing exactly who the very James Barnes was. You had no business being here, you were doing this for Steve.

“Hi” you whisper, and Bucky can’t help but smirk at the way you keep tugging at your dress, not meeting his eyes, tipping your chin up to meet his wolfish expression.

“You must be Y/n” he doesn’t let go of your face, noting the goosebumps that now cover your exposed skin from your plunging dress. He doesn’t say much else, letting you squirm, quite enjoying himself.

You want to tell him he looks good, be the confident woman he probably expected to have, exuding grace and poise but you bite your lip instead, nearly whining when he lets go of your chin.

“Y-you um. You look b-beautiful” you finally stutter out, your face burning under his amused gaze.

“Is that so Bambi?” He smirks, cocking his head while you fidget with your fingers. “Hmmm. No one’s called me that before” he chuckles, taking your arm in his and leading you to the limo parked outside.

Your skin is so soft, you smell so sweet and for the first time ever, he doesn’t want to ravage his date to bits. Not when you’re such a soft precious thing.

The night goes well as you grow more and more comfortable with him. He dotes on you the entire time, not letting you lift a finger. He can’t help but take care of you, not letting anyone else near his precious little Bambi.

By the end, he wants to take you home safely like a gentleman but he wants more. And he knows you do too. He can see it in the way you look at him with such longing, nuzzling into his side further and further in the back of the limo.

You’re practically on his lap now, desperately wishing he’d just have his way with you without toy having to say anything but he’d never let that happen.

“What is it Bambi” he whisperers when you squeeze your thighs together, hiding you face in his neck. Your hand trails from his tie to his belt buckle, too embarrassed to go any lower.

“Oh you poor thing” he coos, bringing and pressing your hand on top of his erection, your shaky hands rubbing his bulge like a needy kitten, “do you want my cock baby, s’that it? My Bambi needs her cock?”

“Mhm” you whine, clinging onto him when the limo pulls up to his house, his thick arms wrapping you up and taking you right to his room with no second guesses.

When he gets you into bed, all his animalistic tendencies go out the window, holding back how badly he wants to pounce on you and ravish you like the cute little bunny you are, trapped in the wolfs den. Your gown has been thrown off, lingerie ripped to bits, laying on his bed as he crawls on top of you, his thick, leaky cock bobbing between his legs.

“Are you sure you want this Angel” he checks in with you first, cupping your cheek and swiping his thumb across your pouty lip.

“W-want you” you whisper, shakily reaching down to grasp his cock, swallowing nervously. “I just- I don’t-“

“You don’t have to be scared bunny” he kisses your cheek, placing his hand on top of yours, guiding your strokes. “I’ll teach you how to play with my cock baby”

You tighten your grip, tugging him to where you need him most and he can’t hold back much longer, he’s trying to hard but you makes it impossible.

“Fuck Bambi” he groaned feeling his tip run against your soaked cunt, holding back frok shoving himself in you “keep doing that and I’ll lose control baby”

“Lose control Bucky” you tug at him again and he shakes his head with a strained chuckle.

“I’ll hurt you bunny” he said warns again but you need him to take you apart till you cant walk.

“Please?”

“Bunny…” he warns one last time but you want anymore.

“Daddy” you whine in his ear and something inside him snaps. He doesn’t give you any warning, slamming his cock into you with one stroke, your pleasured cry music to his ears.

“What did you just call me?!” He pulls out to flip you over, spanking your ass while his balls slap your clit, loving the way you go dumb over his cock.

“Such an innocent little baby with a filthy mouth, huh doll, my bunny wants her daddy’s cock”

He grips onto the headboard, delivering powerful snaps with his hips, alternating between pounding you against the pillows and grinding his cock in you without pulling out.

“Such a tight pussy squeezing daddy’s cock, my naughty little bunny, you want daddy’s cream too baby? You want daddy to give you his fresh cum, hm? Breed this needy little pussy?”

“B-breed me daddy!!” You squeal, his words driving you towards your climax, crying into his sheets and arching your back more as his movements grow sloppy.

“Get ready for daddy’s cum baby- gonna breed this pretty pussy till your fuckin’ round n’swollen n’leaking with milk” he gritted out, grabbing your hips with slam back and meet his thrusts. “Together Bambi, cum with daddy, c’mon, be a good girl n’cum with daddy”

The most salacious and primal sounds fill the room as he pumps ropes of his cum into toy, your greedy pussy milking him for all he’s worth. He can’t believe such a quiet little bunny could turn out to be a minx on the inside but he’s never letting you go.

“You’re dangerous Bambi” he whispers, keeping his softening cock in you, having never felt so satisfied afterwards, practically floating in the clouds with you. “M’never pulling my cock out, you feel too good around my dick baby”

You giggle as he kisses your glistening skin, gathering your into his arms, your eyes growing wide when he doesn’t kick you out of his bed.

“You’re mine now Bambi” he says with a soft growl, holding you closer to his chest before pulling the sheets over you both.

Anyway. Wholesome version coming later.

[annievrse]

the special t-shirt

roronoa zoro x reader —ᡣ𐭩 blurb a/n: just a little stupid thing i wrote to get away from the angst of labyrinth

“Dude, c’mon.”

You blink, your chopsticks full of rice pausing halfway to your mouth. The crew continues chattering around you. “What?”

“What?” Zoro gives you a deadpan look, food pushed into the side of his cheek. "This is serious."

Robin watches you two across the table, a smirk playing on her lips. She watches Zoro furrow his eyebrows at you as you ignore him.

"I said I was sorry," You say. "What else do you want me to say, bro?"

"Bro?" Zoro scoffs, turning his body toward you. He props his elbow on the table and leans to the side to glance at your face. "Call me that again... see what happens."

You shake your head, your laugh is humourless. "You're unbelievable."

Zoro makes a sound of indignation. "Me? You called me bro. I'm not your bro."

"Yeah, and you called me dude! What's the difference?"

You barely notice the chatter slowing down and coming to an abrupt halt as you and Zoro glare at each other.

"Hey," Franky says, nervous laughter following. "What's up?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing."

The crew eyes you wearily, Nami jabbing her thumb over her shoulder. Luffy tilts his head in confusion, and the rest get up quickly, their plates forgotten.

"Oh!" Luffy giggles. "Trouble in paradise, huh?"

"You idiot!" Nami whispers harshly, pulling him to stand by the collar of his shirt. "Hurry up."

You watch her drag Luffy out of the galley, Chopper and Brook sulking as they follow everyone else out. Sanji hovers in the doorway, eyes on Zoro.

"Don't fuck this up, mosshead."

Zoro scrunches his face, opening his mouth to retort, but Sanji's gone before he can. "Dick."

You sigh deeply, rubbing your forehead with your palm. "Zo'."

"Hate that guy—"

"Can you please tell me what's wrong?'

Zoro's eyebrows raise, and he shrugs one shoulder. "Yeah."

You wait for him to speak, but when he says nothing, you poke him.

Zoro swats your hand away, face set in a deep scowl. "You used my favourite shirt to wipe the ink off your hand."

You blink, sighing as the guilt rises again. "I know, I'm sorry. The ink pot spilled, and it was so close to the logbook; your shirt was the first thing I saw, and I panicked. I—I'll buy you a new one—"

"No," he mumbles, eye cast down to his lap.

You purse your lips, your throat thick with emotion. "Sorry..."

"Besides, you have no money."

You gape at him. "Do, too! Who do you think buys all your alcohol?"

Zoro's eyes soften, and he tilts his head like he's trying to get a better look at you. But before he can get too sappy, he rolls his eyes.

"Anyway, the point is that you can't buy me a new one."

"Why not?" You reach over to pick a piece of fluff off his shoulder. He lets you, his gaze on you. "It's a plain white shirt. They have those everywhere."

"Because you can't," Zoro shrugs, his fingers fidgeting in his lap.

Chewing your bottom lip, you know there's more to this than he's letting on.

"Zoro," You say, resting your palm on his cheek. "What's this about?"

"I—uh, the shirt... it was. No," he shakes his head. "It's nothing."

You've rarely seen him this nervous, especially around you, in all the years you've been together. It scares you.

"Please," You whisper, sliding down the bench. "If it's bothering you this much, it's more than nothing."

Zoro huffs and looks to the ceiling before closing his eye. His hand circles around your waist, pulling you near. Your shoulder is under his armpit when he's done getting comfortable—as comfortable as you can get on a wooden bench.

"It's my favourite shirt."

You nod, urging him to go on. "Mmhm."

"And it happens to be the same shirt I was wearing when... when we... you know."

A smile spreads across your cheeks. "Say it."

Zoro scoffs lightly, a blush dusting his cheeks. "When we first met."

You make a sound of pure happiness. "You little sap!"

"Shut up," he mumbles, though his words have no bite. A sheepish grin pulls at the corners of his mouth.

But your joy is short-lived when you realise the problem. "And I ruined it."

Zoro shakes his head. "Don't be stupid... it's not like it still fits me. You know, since I've gotten bigger muscles and chest and all that..."

"Yeah, your tits are huge."

"They're pecs."

You laugh, kissing his cheek. "I'm sorry."

"You already said that," Zoro mutters, face warming when your lips meet his skin.

"I can wash it," You say. "I'm sure I can find some super, powerful soap that'll wash the ink right out."

Zoro shrugs. "If you want."

You tilt your head as you consider him. What he really means is, yes, please.

"Wanna come with me? You can sit pretty on the sink while I wash it."

He scoffs, rolling his eyes.

You stand from the bench with an eyebrow raised. "What?"

"I don't sit pretty. That's your job."

You ignore the comment and step out, holding your hand out. "C'mon."

But before Zoro can clasp his fingers around yours, the galley door swings open, the crew comically crowding the doorway.

"We good?" Franky asks, voice tight. Chopper, Brook, and Usopp hold their breath, and Nami and Robin smile. Sanji rolls his eyes and Luffy bursts through everyone to get back to the food.

Zoro's soft expression morphs into a scowl at the sight of them. "Yeah, not that it's any of your business..."

"Good! I'm starving," Luffy exclaims, plopping himself down at the table and scoffing down food from the remaining plates.

"Hey! That's mine!" Usopp yells, rushing over to Luffy before pulling him into a loose headlock.

You wrap your hand around Zoro's bicep and tug him toward the laundry room below deck.

After scrubbing at the t-shirt for an hour, the water murky and the soap almost empty, Zoro holds the too-small shirt against his torso. He gives you a gleaming smile, one reserved for you, and despite the sparse grey splotches visible, he's more than content with the effort. Zoro leans down to press his lips to your forehead, mumbling about his gratitude.

Safe to say, the following morning, Zoro stretches the shirt onto his body, the seams cracking and the hems cutting off the circulation in his arms. The crew laughs at him, but he smiles proudly when he sees your giggles.

You didn't ruin his shirt but added a new memory that he will treasure until the end of time.

[planetpedri]

2 hands 𖦹 Lando Norris !

Summary: You’d avoided talking to Lando about how you felt like you were the only one holding the responsibility together. It was draining, and it was beginning to consume you.

Word count: 955+

Disclaimer/s: Angst, hurt/comfort, resolve at the end!

Bea speaks! Hi Verry Pooh!! This is for you.

The door clicking open had your head raising. You watched as Lando walked inside the apartment, exhausted and clearly ready to go to bed. He’d had a busy week and was home for the first time in nearly two weeks.

You sat at the kitchen table, a small midnight snack sitting in front of you—not that you’d even touched it. Your brain was too busy swirling with negative thoughts that you couldn’t even stomach your favorite snack.

Lando dropped his bags on the ground, his footsteps soft as he approached you. “Hey. I’m home.”

You’d long sensed looked back at your phone, not bothering to make eye contact with him as you spoke, “yeah. I noticed.”

Eyebrows furrowing, he slides onto the seat across from you. “What’s wrong?”

You let out a low bitter laugh, shaking your head. “You know, you are always asking me that. But, when I try to tell you why.. you just disappear. Walk away before I can even begin to explain.”

The dimly lit room only added to the tension as Lando stared at you, flinching at the harshness in your words. “Well, I’m here now, aren’t I?”

Eyes finally moving up to him, you look at him. Really look at him. Noting the bags under his eyes and the crease in his forehead.

“Are you?” You start, “because I feel like I’m holding us together with my own two hands and you’re hardly meeting me half way.” You finish, voice cracking so quietly, Lando wouldn’t have noticed if he wasn’t so tuned into you.

“Thats not fair.” The curly haired man replied, defensively. “You know how much my job expects from me—how much it means to me.”

Rubbing the bridge of your nose, your eyes clamp shut for a moment only to snap open to narrow on him. “I know how much racing means to you. But at what point am I allowed into this circle of what you care about?”

The silence that followed was thick and heavy, providing no comfort to either of you.

Eyes softening, Lando’s hand twitches and clenches into a tight fist on the counter—like it had to physically restrain itself from reaching out to you.

“I don’t want to lose you.” He confesses, voice barely above a whisper.

Meeting his eyes, which were filled with unshed tears, you exhale slowly. “Then stop making me feel like I’m the only one who wants us to work out.”

There was another long beat where neither of you moved or spoke. The room felt like the oxygen was slowly seeping out and suffocating you. Neither of you dared to speak first and you watched as Lando’s fingers fidgeted on the counter.

You could see him mind racing as he tried to find the right words to say. The words that could fix this mess he’d created.

Standing abruptly, you grab your plate and move towards the trash can. “Forget it, Lando.” You speak, dumping the contents. “I’m tired. I can’t keep having this conversation over and over again.”

“No.”

The defiant word cut through the room like a knife. “You don’t get to walk away from this conversation—not when it’s the exact thing I did to get into this mess.”

You turn around to face him, exhaustion written into your every feature. “What do you want me to say? That it’s fine? That it doesn’t matter and that I’ll be over it in the morning?”

“I don’t want you to say it’s fine.” Lando shakes his head, standing from his seat to meet your gaze. His voice softer now, “I want you to tell me how I fix this. Whatever I need to do, I will. Just don’t walk away.”

Lando wasn’t defensive anymore, just vulnerable. He wasn’t searching for an excuse or an argument. He was asking—genuinely asking, if not pleading.

“Lando..” You let out a shaky breath, your resolve faltering. “I just need to know you care. That I am important to you. I don’t want anymore spaced out late night calls and rushed conversations, I want your presence.”

Slowly crossing the distance between you, as if he was scared you’d pull away, he reaches out, hands settling on your waist. His thumbs rubbing slow circles into your skin, “You are everything to me. I’m sorry I’ve failed to show you that. You are the last person I want to fail, I’m sorry I’ve sucked at separating my job life from the love of my life.”

You swallow, hard. Eyes searching his for any insincerity. When you don’t find anything but raw and pure sincerity, mixed with regret and shame, your shoulders let go of their held tension.

“So, what now?” You whisper as you couldn’t bring yourself to exert any more emotions.

“I’ll show you.” Lando says, determination evident in his tone. He continued rubbing soothing motions on your exposed skin as he continued, “I’ll cut down on the media bullshit. Bring you to more races. Make time for you between everything. Whatever it takes, I will do it. Just give me the chance to prove it. Please?”

You could feel the truth in his words, especially when his voice cracked when he whispered ‘please?’.

The anger and frustration diminished in that moment. You nod slightly, “okay.”

Letting out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, Lando presses a tender kiss to the top of your head. “I love you.” He murmurs against your hair.

Resting your head against his chest, you allow yourself to inhale his scent—one that had always grounded you whenever you needed it to. “I love you, too.”

likes, comments, and reblog’s are all appreciated. lmk if you’d like to be tagged in future lando posts.

ᝰ.ᐟ tags @halfwayhearted @lechrts @sakashq @h4vertzz @spidybaby @joaoflms

[wh0reforcoriolanussnow]

Red tipped gloves || Young President!Coriolanus Snow x reader

Summary: The thought of motherhood at such a young age was absolutely terrifying. Though Coriolanus doesn’t seem to understand why.!

Warnings: mention of blood, self harm in the form of picking at nails, toxic Coryo, reader is implied to be young, manipulation, if there's anything else pls lmk

Wc: 811

A/n: I'm so bad with these summaries I can't even.

Divider by @firefly-graphics

A child expecting a child. How messed up was that? You rub the swell of your stomach as you stare at yourself. Youth evident in your still-round cheeks, yet the impending responsibilities cast shadows on the innocence of your features.

Gnawing at your law rips, you smooth down the dress that Coriolanus picked out for you. Dainty, innocent, just like how he liked to dress you up for social events.

Your hands subconsciously move together as you pick at your already picked-at nails. The horrible habit you picked up ever since you got married to Coryo.

Hearing the door suddenly open, you quickly pause your actions, moving your hands behind your back as you turn around to face Coryo.

Noticing your strange behaviour, he pauses to look at you before his eyes move behind you to the reflection of the mirror where you fingers were fidgeting.

Swiftly closing the door, Coriolanus strides purposefully toward you, casting a tall shadow as he towers over. Even in high heels, you find him looming above. “Show me your hands,” he commands, his tone firm and unyielding.

A subtle blend of defiance and confusion colors your expression, causing a faint twitch in your lips. “What?” your voice was too quiet, your tone feigning nervousness. A light gulp accompanies the gentle quiver of your lips.

“I said, show me your hands,” Coriolanus repeats himself, his tone escalating in volume. You release a slow exhale through your nose, carefully extending your hands in front of you. Your eyes, hesitant and uneasy, divert off to the side, catching the subtle nuances of your husband’s frustration as he lets out a sigh.

“I thought you stopped that horrible habit of yours,” he retorted sharply, firmly grabbing your hands as you flinched. A displeased expression crosses his face as he looks down at your fingers—raw and drawing blood—before his gaze shifts to your face, your bottom lip nervously tucked beneath your front teeth.

“I couldn’t help it,” you whisper softly, a hint of shame and embarrassment weaving through your tone, while he exhales deeply through his nose. “I’ll arrange for more gloves to be sent to you before tonight,” he says wearily, gently resting his hands on the curve of your stomach before quietly leaving.

~

Beside Coriolanus, engaged with his fair-weathered friends, you find yourself zoning out, your gaze fixed on the glass of water cradled in your gloved hands. The murmur of conversation fades into the background; you’re simply bored and disinterested in the overly serious discussion.

“Darling,” Coriolanus’ voice, firm yet gentle, pulls your attention as you lift your eyes to find everyone in the group focused on you. “I’m sorry, what was it?” you meekly ask, eliciting light chuckles from the women and amused glances from the men.

Coriolanus holds himself back from rolling his eyes, instead, he takes a large gulp of his posca. “Mrs. Cardew asked you how far along you are,” He smiles down at you, the kind of smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Oh,” you say softly, meeting Mrs. Cardew’s gaze, “28 weeks.” You smile at the older woman, and a few people in the group react with appreciative sounds. Coriolanus pulls you closer to his side, a possessive grasp signaling to those with wandering eyes who you belong to.

As the night wore on, a queasiness settled in your stomach. Socializing with Coriolanus’ friends became exhausting—forcing smiles, feigning excitement for the baby was draining. Leaning in, you whisper in Coriolanus’ ear, “Can I retire to our room? I don’t feel well.”

“Do you really need to? Right now?” he harshly whispers, and you gulp, hesitantly nodding. He sighs, rolls his eyes, and gets up. “Excuse me, my wife needs to rest,” he says to those around you with a fake smile as you quietly apologised.

Hand in hand, Coriolanus leads you to your shared bedroom, forcefully closing the door behind you. It was abundantly clear that he's upset about your early departure from the party.

“Did you just make up an excuse so you could leave the party? Is that it?” Coryo bitterly accuses you as you take a seat on one of the couches. “What? I didn’t make up an excuse. I’m pregnant for heavens sake, Coryo,” You frown, deeply offended by his accusation.

“Yeah, sure,” He chuckles, crossing his arms. “Why is that so hard to believe,” you scoff, mirroring his crossed arms. "Eleanor is in the exact same state as you, and she seemed perfectly fine," he shrugs, his tone nonchalant, causing your lips to part in disbelief.

“Are you seriously comparing me to Eleanor?” You furrow your eyebrows, a touch of frustration in your voice. Ready to counter his unfair comparison, you point out the facts, “She's considerably older than me, has experienced childbirth before. Naturally, she'd feel fine, Coryo."

Coriolanus mumbles something incoherent under his breath, his attitude towards you causing tears to well up in your eyes. His choice of comparison feels like a pointed jab in the most sensitive spot. When you sniffle, your husband's attention is caught. "Are you crying?" he swiftly retorts, his gaze probing, while you avert your eyes, concealing the probable redness.

A soft laugh escapes him, "Honestly, you can be so childish sometimes. Getting upset over that?" He raises an eyebrow at you—ironically so. His comment serves as a spark igniting a blaze within you. How dare he call you childish when you’ve done nothing but act older than you were.

“I just can’t believe you’re comparing me to Eleanor who’s had children before, unlike me who’s fucking terrified at the thought of being a mother,” you spat, the intensity of your emotions evident in your words. Even from a distance, you notice the shift in Coriolanus' eyes, the once-blue depths now darkening with an unspoken tension.

“As the First Lady you’re expected to give me heirs. Now I need a woman who’s ready to give me children, are you going to be her or not?” His words strike a nerve, and you feel your eyes twitch as a headache begins to form.

"Did you even think about that before marrying me, Coryo?" you challenge, your words causing him to furrow his eyebrows. "Because you damn well know I'm not prepared to be a mother. So, why choose me? You could have selected someone else—someone older, someone genuinely willing to birth your children." The air hangs heavy with the weight of your words, leaving a palpable tension between you and Coriolanus.

Your fingers unconsciously pick at your nails, the once-immaculate white gloves now bear crimson stains at the fingertips. Coriolanus' gaze fixates on your hands, and he snaps, swiftly moving towards you to pry your fingers apart. "Stop doing that!" he commands, his tone sharp.

As he moves in, his face is so close that you can feel his breath gently fanning your features. Undeterred, he continues with a venom-laced voice, "You should be thanking me for choosing you, for pulling your family from debt." His eyes, intense and unyielding, bore into yours.

“I could have married someone else. I had a list I could have chosen from who could’ve helped but no, you had to marry me.” you assert, the weight of your words causing a brief shock to cross Coriolanus' face. It's a rare moment where you've left him momentarily speechless.

Breaking the silence, he mutters, "I'll have the servants bring you some medicine." With one final glance, he withdraws, leaving the room. The atmosphere hangs thick with unspoken tensions, the stained gloves and the lingering words serving as tangible reminders of the strain in your relationship.

[yandere-daydreams]

Screening: Rosemary's Baby (1968)

Pairing: Yandere!Ieiri Shoko x Reader (JJK).

Runtime: 3.2k.

TW: Fem!Reader, Non/Con (False Pretenses), Mentions of Pregnancy, Cheating (Reader is in an Established Relationship With Gojo), Fingering, Medical Malpractice, Manipulation, and Overstimulation. Dead Dove: Do Not Eat.

The examination table was cold as ice against your back.

She’d been nice enough to put down a sheet of sterilizing parchment, but not much more. You fidgeted with the hem of your skirt as you waited, too nervous to check your phone and risk seeing the newest addition to Satoru’s never-ending barrage of texts, too obedient to do anything other than stay where you were and stare blankly at the chipped, white tiles of her ceiling. That was what she told you to do – or, at least, what you thought she’d told you to do. It’d been difficult to understand her through her surgical mask, only pulled down slightly to accommodate the cigarette she was holding up to her lips, and come to think if it, she might’ve just meant to wait near the table, not strictly on—

The door opened, creating a break in the silence just long enough for you to pull yourself back together, and you bolted upright before your thoughts could start to slip, again – the stiff parchment crackling in protest underneath you. Your eyes found Shoko just as she slipped inside, letting the door fall shut on its own behind her.

Out of all of Satoru’s friends, Shoko had always been your favorite. There was obviously the gender bias (you’d be lying if you said you wouldn’t have gravitated towards any woman in Satoru’s overall civil, but absolutely male-dominated social sphere), but even if that hadn’t been the case, you liked to think that you would’ve gotten along with Shoko, regardless. She was always so calm, always so level-headed, rarely smiling but slow to lose her temper, too. Being around her made you feel a little less like the awkward, oblivious non-sorcerer who’d stumbled into a world you still didn’t completely understand and a little more like someone who knew what they’d gotten into and who to rely on, when your own limited abilities fell short. You trusted Shoko, even if you’d only talked to her alone a handful of times. If you didn’t, you never would’ve come to her for something like this.

She stopped at the nearest counter, retrieving a pair of latex gloves from a nearly empty container, before coming to stand next to your table. You knew she’d been smoking, but the heavy scent of disinfect and rubbing alcohol smothered any traces of lingering smoke there might’ve been. You were thankful. You’d been sick with nerves for the better part of the past week, and you didn’t need another reason to feel like you were on the verge of throwing up.

(In the back of your skull, something cruel and vile whispered that there might be another explanation for your sudden bouts of nausea – something less ignorable than pure, ungrounded anxiety. You drowned it out before it could reach your conscious mind.)

Shoko broke the silence without prompting. You were grateful for that, too – you really didn’t have the courage to speak up first. “So,” she started, leaning on the edge of your metal slab. “You wanted to see me because of a… late period?”

Her mask hid most her expression, but you could make out the faint hint of a chuckle underneath her bedside manner. Your eyes fell into your lap. “A missed period,” you corrected. “I haven’t gotten it this month, either.”

She hummed, but didn’t respond. You sighed. Shoko was grounded, but she wasn’t kind. You should’ve known she wouldn’t make this easy for you.

“I’m worried I might be pregnant.”

To her credit, if she was surprised, it was impossible to tell. “Have you been taking your birth control?”

“Yeah, obviously, but I’m terrible about remembering condoms and Satoru never manages to pull out.” It felt strange to describe your sex life to your boyfriend’s closest friend, but you soldiered on. She was a medical professional, a doctor. Your preferred methods of protection (or lack thereof) couldn’t have been the worst thing she’d heard that day. “I’ve already taken a test, but I just want to make sure. Cursed energy is already so complicated, and I know Satoru exceeds a lot of expectations. I don’t know if he, like, has—”

This time, she cut you off with an airy, but blatant laugh. “You think he’s got magic sperm?”

“He fights invisible monsters and teleports,” you snapped, your anxiety turning into irritation in the blink of an eye. “I don’t think ‘magic sperm’ is that unrealistic!”

For a moment, she seemed to regard you – her dark eyes boring into your wrinkled clothes, your disheveled hair, the bags under your eyes nearly deep enough to match her own. Even if she didn’t understand why you were worried, she’d have to recognize that you were, in fact, worried. And, if she really was your friend, she’d at least offer to help.

You held your breath until finally, she cracked, straightening her back with and audible sigh. “And why, exactly, couldn’t you go to a standard obstetrician about this?”

“Because you’re the best doctor I know and I’d trust you with my life?”

“Try again.”

“Because I can’t afford the co-pay and if I use Satoru’s card, he’ll find out.” You deflated after finishing, crossing your arms over your chest. “I… I really just want to know. If it turns out I did have a reason to worry, I’ll figure out what to do next, but—” This time, your voice cut out all on its own. You forced yourself to swallow before going on. “I just want to know, first. Satoru doesn’t have to be involved.”

It was an awful position to put her in, you knew. For as much as you trusted her, she’d known Satoru for years. She had every right to go to him about this, even if you really, really wished she wouldn’t. She didn’t owe you anything, much less her help. Much less her silence.

But there was a reason you trusted Shoko, that you felt as unreasonable close to her as you did. Above her mask, you saw her eyes soften before they flickered away from you, landing on the counter she’d already visited. “Lay down and take off what you need to,” she said, her gruff professionalism back in full force. “It might not be conclusive, but the most I can do is a physical examination. It’s not much, but if you don’t trust a real test, it’s the best thing I can offer you.”

You couldn’t help yourself – nearly falling off the table as you pulled her into a bone-crushing, lung-flattening hug. “Ieiri, you’re the best,” you nearly shouted, your voice bouncing off the blank walls of her office. You moved to thank her again, and again, and again, but she pried you off of her before you had the chance, muttering a curt ‘you’re welcome’ before turning away to make her preparations and escape your unwanted gratitude. You managed to stop yourself from chasing after her, and yet, you were still smiling as you settled back onto the table.

Still, embarrassment quickly dampened the brighter edges of your relief as Shoko glanced over her shoulder. “Are you comfortable with undressing here, or would you rather leave the room?”

You blanched, and Shoko was kind enough not to laugh before going on. “You did know you were basically coming to be for a gynecological exam, right?”

“I mean, yes, but—” You hadn’t, but then again, you weren’t sure what else you’d expected. This made sense, even if it was leagues beyond anything you thought to brace yourself for. If Shoko thought it would help, then it’d help. “Do I get a gown, or…?”

Her eyes fell to your skirt, long enough to fall just an inch or so above your knee. “That won’t be necessary. Take off your panties and lay down – I’ll be over in a second.”

Your face burnt, but you nodded, and she turned away. Biting your inner cheek, you swung your legs over the side of the table and kicked off your shoes. Shoko pretended to be preoccupied while you shrugged your panties down your legs and, with no other option, stuffed them into the pocket of your jacket. It was awkward – lying down and spreading your legs with Shoko less than a full ten feet away. It was one thing to ask your acquaintance for medical advice, and another to let your boyfriend’s friend act as your pro-bono gynecologist.

You heard a few tools clatter onto a metal tray, the padded feet of a stool scrape across the tiled floor, and wordlessly, Shoko positioned herself at the foot of the examination table. “This should only take a few minutes,” she said, as her gloved fingers skirted along the inside of your knee, then your thigh, before reaching your pussy. Your labia, you corrected, internally. If she could be a professional about this, so could you. “Let me know if you feel any pain.”

You nodded, keeping your eyes focused intently on the ceiling above you. Even if you had looked down, your skirt would’ve blocked most of your view, which was how you preferred it. You couldn’t see Shoko, and hopefully, she couldn’t see the way you flinched as she spread a cold, pricking sort of lubricant over your entrance, as she eased two fingers into your otherwise dry cunt. You’d assumed she would use a tool, but then again, you couldn’t imagine what kind. And besides, you really shouldn’t have been questioning a doctor.

Shoko’s voice was gruff, distracted. “How’s that?”

“F-Fine,” you squeaked. “Please, do whatever you need to.”

“Satoru’s got you that worn down, huh?” She let out a breath of a laugh, but leaned in, easing her digits into until she was knuckle deep. Her fingers were thin, but long and graceful in a way that made them difficult to ignore when paired with the strange tactility of her gloves. Her free hand curled around your ankle, as if to hold you in place. “I’m going start the test. It might feel a little strange, so try not to move.”

She gave you a moment to brace yourself before spreading her fingers apart, inadvertently pressing against the sensitive walls of your pussy. On reflex, you snapped your thighs shut, but Shoko caught you by the knee before you could attempt to break her arm. “Easy there.” And then, as her thumb pushed slow circles into your skin, “Think you can hold these open for me?”

You didn’t try to say anything, but with more than a little effort, you spread your legs – planting your feet more firmly on either corner of the table. “Thatta girl,” Shoko muttered, seemingly more used to comforting scared pets than nervous patients. “Remember – we’re here because you wanted to be. If you want to back out, just say the word.”

You shook your head furiously, instinctually. You’d never do that to Shoko, and she seemed to know that – not waiting for verbal confirmation before starting to move. She seemed to need to stretch you open, judging by the repetitive, scissor-like motions of her fingers, the way she huffed in irritation as she slipped yet another digit inside of you. You knew it was inappropriate, but it would’ve been impossible to stop yourself from heating up, from squirming, from dampening around her in a way that you couldn’t entirely separate from arousal. You kept your hips still and dug your teeth into your bottom lip with enough force to break the skin (you would’ve rather died than moaned during a medical exam), but your cunt wasn’t as easily reigned in. It wasn’t long before a sickeningly slick clicking-type noise accompanied every little movement of her fingers. Hopefully, she’d just assume she’d used more lube than she’d meant to. You didn’t know what you’d do with yourself, if she didn’t.

“Like I said – it’s a quick procedure, not a comfortable one. Most patients have a difficult time staying still.” It was humiliating – how steady her voice was while you were falling apart, fighting just to keep yourself from bucking into a medical professional’s hand. It took everything you had not to whimper when the scissoring slowed, then stopped altogether, only to be immediately replaced by the awful, terrible, embarrassingly wonderful feeling of her fingers curling inside of you, grinding against the most vulnerable part of your cunt. “It’s important to be thorough, though. I’m sure you understand why this is necessary.”

She couldn’t have done it on purpose. Nothing about this could’ve ever been intentional, and yet, when her wrist slipped, the heel of her palm seemed to land perfectly onto your neglected clit. It wasn’t much, just the hint of stimulation, but it was enough for you to seize-up – your nails scrambling helplessly over smooth titanium as you came, silently, around her fingers. Shoko, ever the professional, didn’t so much as slow down.

She only hummed, keeping her hand where it was – her palm now grinding broad, harsh patterns into your clit. “Are you usually this easily stimulated?”

You opened your mouth, but all you could seem to choke out was a single, jagged whimper. Shoko clicked her tongue. “I’m sorry, I should’ve phrased that in a way you’d understand.” And then, as she spread her fingers apart cruelly, “Do you normally cum in less than a minute with Satoru?”

This time, a strangled cry was as much of an answer as you could’ve possibly given. You weren’t sure why she was asking, but… this wasn’t normal for you, was it? And now that she mentioned it, you did feel more stimulated than you should’ve during anything remotely medical. Your skin felt hotter, more sensitive where it’d come into contact with her lubricant, and it was getting hard to think, hard to justify not grinding into her hand as she curled and twisted her fingers inside of you. God. You knew you’d been a wreck, lately, but you never would’ve thought that it gotten this bad.

The nails of Shoko’s free hand bit into your ankle, and too strung-out to stop yourself, you let out a whine by way of protest. She chuckled, and suddenly, you were empty, left bucking your hips into vacant air as she drew back. “Poor thing,” she muttered, her sympathy tinged with a sardonic sort of condescension. “I’ve got one last test. Think you can bear with me?”

“Ye—Yes,” you chirped. At that point, it was meaningless – you would’ve agreed to anything so long as she was the one suggesting it. You’d shut your eyes at some point, but you could still hear Shoko’s footsteps, feel her standing above you as she positioned herself at your side. One gloved hand cupped your cheek while the other pressed something blunt and thick against your cunt and, with no warning other than a mumbled reminder to ‘breathe, pretty girl, breathe’, thrust it inside of you.

Her reminder, sadly, proved useless. The air hitched in your lungs as a ribbed shaft filled your overeager pussy, the object curved in a way that made it feel like it was pressing into every fucking part of you at the exact same fucking time. Your hands shot to Shoko’s wrist, searching for something more forgiving than cold metal to ground yourself with. You tried to pull yourself together, and you might’ve been able to if two distinct, silicone-wrapped prongs hadn’t slotted against your clit or, even more damningly, if whatever tool Shoko was using hadn’t started to shake.

Saying you came embarrassingly quickly would’ve been an understatement. There was no pretense of dignity, this time; just grit teeth and twitching legs and one long, miserable sob. Shoko nursed you through it, rocking her vibrating tool inside of you gently until your climax had died into total limpness and the occasional, unsteady gasp. The tool was drawn back, but Shoko’s hand lingered, her thumb tracing patterns into your cheek. “Such a good girl,” she mumbled, and you melted into her touch. “Feeling a little tired?”

It was sickeningly guilt-inducing, just how nice she was being to you after you’d done nothing but humiliate yourself in front of her. “A little,” you admitted, smiling sheepishly. Shoko smiled back. You couldn’t remember when she’d taken off her mask.

“Close your eyes and catch your breath. I’ll finish up while you get a little rest.”

It was all you could do to nod before slumping into yourself, your body going slack despite your best attempts to hold yourself up. Her reassurance was nice, but unnecessary.

In less than a full second, you were out like a light.

~

In Shoko’s defense, she did actually take the time to check. After you passed out, as delicate as Satoru had always bragged you were, she tested the blood sample taken prior to your “exam”. It took a total of three minutes, and left her with good news and bad news to deliver when you woke up.

The good news was, predictably, that you’d been right. You were pregnant. About a month along, in fact. Congratulations, mazel tov, etc.

The bad news was, of course, that you were pregnant, and that Satoru had finally managed to knock you up. Thoughts and prayers, get well soon, etc.

 From her make-shift desk on the far side of the room, she spared a glance to where you were still sleeping on her autopsy table. You’d rolled onto your side since she last checked on you, your pleated shirt bunching at your waist as you used your arms as a rudimentary pillow. It’d be a lie to say she didn’t understand why Satoru had gone so crazy about you so quickly. What you were – an ordinary human with enough cursed energy to see, but not act – was rare, your continuous ability to gloss over the uglier parts of their world in favor of perpetual, delusional optimism even more so. It’d be impressive, if she didn’t know it was going to get you fucked over eventually.

You were cute. It’s surprised her when she first met you in-person, when she first realized that.

It’d surprised her a little less when she realized that you even cuter mumbling gibberish as you came around her fingers.

Her eyes fell back to the phone in her hand. Her messages with Satoru were already open, what she’d been deliberating on telling him already typed out. She sighed, checked the picture she’d taken of you sprawled out on her table, three of her fingers buried in your cunt, and hit send.

[1 attachment]

your girlfriend has something to tell you.

sending a bill for my time btw.

Three dots appeared at the bottom of the screen, signaling that Satoru was typing a response, before disappearing just as quickly. He tried calling her a second later, and she muted her phone before tossing it half-heartedly in the nearest drawer and turning back to you. Judging by your durability (or lack thereof), she’d have a few more minutes before you woke up, and another half an hour before the aphrodisiac gel she’d used on you started to wear off. You’d likely want to rush home to Satoru, when you finally got your hard-earned results.

Again, Shoko sighed, a slight smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

It’d just be a waste not to have a little fun while she could, right?

[yeonzzzn]

🔑secrets that you keep: psh / lhs

pairing: sunghoon x afab!reader x heeseung word count: 4.2k

synopsis: dating sunghoon was like living on cloud nine, he treats you like a princess, spoils you, shows you off and gives every ounce of love to you…so why do you keep thinking about one of his best friends?

genre: love triangle, boyfriend's best friends, established relationship, friends to lovers to friends, jealous!heeseung, smut.

warnings: cheating, two sex scenes, unprotective sex, car sex, reader gets bent over the counter top, degrading, fingering, finger sucking, alcohol, Sunghoon and Heeseung are down bad for reader. MINORS DNI. lmk if i've missed anything ♡

You made eye contact with him, watching the corners of his lips curl as he tucked his bottom lip between his teeth. His eyes stare back into yours with so much care and want. 

You quickly glanced away from him, forcing your eyes to look down at your plate of nachos, fidgeting with the sleeves of your sweater. Praying no one else at this table noticed the small moment you just had with him. 

“Everything okay, baby?” your boyfriend asks you, his hand sitting on top of yours to stop your fidgets, “You’ve barely touched your food.” 

You quickly look over to him, wrapping your hands around his, giving a soft smile, “I’m okay, just a small headache is all.” 

Please don’t let him have noticed how his best friend and I just had a moment together. 

Sunghoon gave you a soft smile back, “We’ll get you some medicine once we are back at the house, okay?” 

You nodded, feeling Heeseung’s eyes still on you. 

Sunghoon leaned over, resting his arm on the back of your chair and placing a kiss on your forehead, “My sweet princess,” he whispered. 

It didn’t go unnoticed how Heeseung’s relaxed expression tensed quickly, forcing himself to look away from you and his best friend and off towards the other end of the table, listening to Jake and Niki fight about what video game everyone would play once back at the house. 

Jay rubbed his temples, snapping at them to quiet down, “We are literally in a public space can we not?!” 

The only downside to going out with your boyfriend and his six roommates/best friends is how loud they all can get. 

You tried to drown out the noise like usual, trying to distract your mind away from the chaos. 

Except, Heeseung wouldn’t let the chaos rest. 

He slouched in his seat, extending his legs out across the floor, setting them between yours. 

Your face felt hot, eyes widening, and trying to not react too much so that it was not noticed by anyone. But Heeseung noticed, obviously. 

“Are you sure you’re okay, YN?” Heeseung teased, but saying it in a way to not make it noticeable that he was teasing you, but you could tell. 

Sunghoon’s eyes quickly flickered between the two of you, Heeseung’s legs sitting between yours becoming all too obvious to Sunghoon. 

Before any more could be said, Jungwon was now the one yelling at Jake and Niki, deciding it was time to go back home. 

You felt more at ease once you sat in the passenger seat of your boyfriend’s car, leaning your head back with a sigh, your whole body relaxing. 

You noticed one by one, each of your friend's cars leaving the parking lot, Heeseung’s being the last in the line heading towards the direction of their shared home. 

“Are we not leaving?” You asked Sunghoon, turning to face him, seeing his lust-filled eyes. 

Sunghoon waited to get you alone all night. Tonight was supposed to be a date for the two of you, but ended up with Heeseung suggesting a group dinner, and since everyone was in favor, who was Sunghoon to turn his friends down?

Sunghoon reached his hand over to your thigh, squeezing the plush between his fingers, “I want you so bad, been thinking about it all day.” 

You wasted no time crawling over the center console, straddling him in the driver's seat, and attaching your lips to his in a fiery passion. 

Sunghoon reached a hand below the seat in unison with his tongue spreading your lips apart to invade your mouth, hand gripping the handle to push the seat backwards and lean it slightly back. 

Your hands cupped his face as his hands slid your skirt up your thighs, bunching it at your waist. 

Sunghoon couldn’t wait much longer, his dick twitching at the very thought of your cunt wrapped around him. 

His fingers slid your panties to the side, feeling your slick drip out of you. 

“Oh, fuck princess,” he moaned into your mouth, “so wet for me already my pretty?” 

You nodded, your hands working at unbuttoning his jeans, his hips rising to help you pull them down to his ankles. 

His fingers pumped into you in the same motion as your hand moved up and down his shaft, spreading his precum around his tip with your thumb. 

Sunghoon moaned against your lips, his cock pulsing in your hand, “Princess,” he whispered, “I can’t take it anymore, let me fuck you.” 

You slid onto him with such ease, rolling your hips as quickly as you could in the small space between the center console and the door. 

Sunghoon’s hands squeezed your ass tightly, his nails leaving marks on your skin. 

His head spun at seeing the way you rode his cock, sucking him so good with your cunt. 

It didn’t take either of you long to cum, making a mess all in his seat. But Sunghoon didn’t mind, it was a problem for another day to deal with and clean up later. 

When the two of you finally walked into the house, the screams of your friends echoed from up the stairs. Sunghoon held your hand tightly as you followed him to the second floor. 

Heeseung sat in the recliner chair in the corner of the upstairs living room, his eyes narrowed and chin wrapped between his fingers, the clear look that he’s pissed off. Eyes staring bullets into the TV of the Mario Party game. 

Sunghoon clocked it the minute he stepped foot into the living room, eyebrows raised, “What is his problem?” 

Jake, Niki, Jungwon, and Sunoo, sat on the edge of the couch, Nintendo Switch controllers in their hands slapping their fingers along the buttons for the mini-game. 

Jay sat in the bean bag directly across from Heeseung, his guitar sat in his lap as he played a soft tune, “I dunno,” Jay shrugged, “We all sat down and then thirty minutes later he stopped talking and was pissed off.” 

You peeked around Sunghoon, Heeseung’s eyes immediately darted to you, then your hand still intertwined with Sunghoon, then back up to you, eyes piercing your entire soul. 

You tugged at Sunghoon’s hand, motioning to sit on the couch. 

Sunghoon swatted at Jake’s leg, forcing him and the others to shift to their right, making room for you two. 

The minutes ticked by as you watched your friends continue their game, Sunghoon switching off with Jake every other turn. 

Sunghoon was in the middle of a challenge when your phone buzzed. 

heeseung: what took you so long to get back?

You rolled your eyes, quickly looking in Heeseung’s direction, seeing the same look you were giving him was looking right back at you. 

You were angry, and to keep yourself from going off, you excused yourself to grab a drink of water from downstairs. Sunghoon kissed your hand before you walked away. 

You were gone for five minutes and it was driving Heeseung crazy. 

He quickly stood up, causing his six friends to glance at him.

“Where are you going, grumpy pants?” Jay asked, tuning his guitar. 

“I need some alcohol.” which was true, Heeseung needed some of that liquid courage to get him through the night. Mostly if you plan to stay overnight with your boyfriend. 

You heard footsteps coming down the stairs, peaking your head around the counter, seeing Heeseung. You should have known. 

You rolled your eyes again, taking a sip of your water. 

Heeseung was at your side in seconds, snatching the glass from your hands and placing it to his lips. 

“Really Heeseung?!” 

He shrugged, swallowing all your water, setting the glass on the table then making eye contact with you. 

“Still not calling me Seungie?” he asked, his fingers tapping the glass. 

You shrugged back at him, turning away from him, resting your lower back against the counter, and crossing your arms. 

“YN, You think I’m dumb or something?” he said with a smirk. 

Huh?

You raise a brow at him, “Excuse me?” 

He chuckled, “Do you think I don’t know you fucked Sunghoon before coming back? Bet it was in his car too, wasn't it?” 

It was your turn to chuckle, “That’s none of your business.” 

“Oh, baby, yes it is,” he took a step closer to you, “It became my business that night you rode my dick into oblivion. Milking my cock with that sweet pussy of yours.” 

You looked away from him, thinning your lips into a line. 

You didn’t know things would end up this way. It was a drunken night. You, Sunghoon, Jay, Heeseung, and Jake all went to a party, had a little too much to drink, and had to call Jungwon to pick you guys up and bring you home. 

You stayed the night that night. Waking up at four am with a headache and terrible hangover. You shuffled carefully out of Sunghoon’s bed trying to not wake him and carefully tiptoed down the hallway to the bathroom. 

You were more out of it than you thought, taking to the wrong room expecting it to be Sunghoon’s. You couldn’t help it, you were still woozy and all their doors looked the same. It wasn’t your fault Heeseung’s room is next door to Sunghoon’s. 

You didn’t realize until you opened the door and slowly closed it that you walked into the wrong bedroom, but by that time it was too late. Heeseung already saw you. 

He was hunched over his bed with multiple empty water bottles lying around him. 

“What are you doing here?” he softly asked, his voice shaken from clearly being sick of the alcohol he consumed that night. 

You felt terrible for him, seeing him like that. So you did what any good friend would do, you took care of him. Got him a warm washcloth and more water. 

It was the first time you were that close to Heeseung, noticing every curve of his face. How pretty his eyes were, how sharp his jaw was, how…kissable his lips looked. 

Heeseung was obviously thinking the same as you, only he pushed that boundary and kissed you first. In shock at what he just had done, he apologized multiple times and begged you to not tell Sunghoon. You shrugged it off and blamed the alcohol. But as the next few weeks passed, you realized there was more to it than just blaming the alcohol. 

He looked at you differently. Talk to you differently. His body language was different when you were around. Everything changed. 

The sexual tension between the two of you built up over time. Heeseung proposed that you two hit it once, then never speak of it again. To get it out of your system. You weren’t sure about it and kept shoving him off until one night Sunghoon had to work late and your fingers weren’t doing it for you, not being able to wait until your boyfriend returned home. 

So you snuck next door. And did what Heeseung said, you rode his dick until he was moaning your name against your lips and cumming inside of you so hard and much that he was seeing stars. 

Heeseung was hooked after that. He couldn’t get enough of you. He didn’t want to stop. He wanted you all over him all the time. He wanted to hold you tight every night in his bed. Take you on cute as fuck dates and show you off. He wanted to love you.

But he couldn’t. You were cuffed to his best friend. 

Heeseung honored his proposal, hitting it once and quitting. But as time went on, he couldn’t stand it. 

He got up in the middle of the night and drove to your apartment, banging on your door until you woke up and let him inside, his lips immediately crashing against yours. 

You couldn’t lie to yourself, you’ve been thinking of him too. Spacing out during lectures thinking about his hands on you. 

You felt guilty. You were a taken woman. Sunghoon is so good to you. Treats you like a princess. Spoils you. Shows you off on every social media account he owns. Has even joked about getting your name tattooed on his wrist. Man was so in love with you, yet you did this to him. 

But you couldn’t stop. Heeseung became a secret that you kept. 

You’d call him almost every single night after Sunghoon would leave your apartment. 

You created a secret folder where you kept photos of the two of you together. 

You’d cry and break down about how unfair this all was to Sunghoon in front of Heeseung. 

Your heart is torn into two pieces and both of those men have a part of it. 

Heeseung hated what he was doing to his best friend, sure, but his heart was so attached to you. So attached to the point when you finally called everything off, Heeseung broke. 

He turned cold. Got so jealous so easily. Would do anything to try and get your attention. To tease you to show you what you were missing. 

Which leads you to stand in the kitchen with him beside you, angry to all hell. 

You just stared at him, “Are you trying to tell me I can’t have sex with my own boyfriend?” 

Heeseung hissed at that word, the word he so desperately wishes you’d call him. 

He just shook his head, looking away from you, “Come back to me.” 

“Heeseung,” you sighed, looking down at the floor, “You know we can’t.” 

“Are you saying you’re just okay giving this,” he said, pointing between the two of you, “Up?”

“Heeseung,”

“That you’re okay giving up my cock?” he growled, pushing his length against your thigh, “It’s been almost a month, baby, I can’t take it.” 

You tried to hold your ground, to do the right thing. And the only way you could think of was walking away. 

But you chose the wrong direction to do so. 

You turned away from him, going to walk around the counter and back up the stairs, but his grip on your waist pulled you back. His hips connected to your ass as he bent you over the counter, hand at the back of your neck. 

“Fuck you’re so sexy like this,” he whispered in your ear, “and the fact that you’re not fighting me tells me exactly what you want.” 

You didn’t deny it. You wanted him. You missed him. 

“Such a fucking slut,” he whispered, riding your skirt up around your waist, “Got dicked down by my best friend and fixing to take my cock too, so dirty.” 

You felt his fingers rub your clothed heat, and your juices coated his fingers, “Haven’t even touched you yet, and your soaked,” he groaned, “Fuck YN.” 

He moved your panties to the side, his thumbs spreading your folds, “Fuck you’re a sight to see.” 

“Seungie,” you whined, “Everyone's upstairs,” 

“Then you better keep your fucking mouth shut,” he quietly snapped, the sound of his belt coming undone filled the room. 

You bit your lips, your pussy clenching around nothing, making Heeseung lick his lips. God, he loves seeing you like this. Loved knowing you were so desperate for him like he was for you. 

Heeseung placed three fingers to his lips, moving his tongue across them and sliding them into your hole. 

You bit your lips harder, trying your best to conceal your moans. 

He pumped his fingers in and out of you slowly, letting you feel what you’ve been missing since calling whatever your relationship was with him off. 

“Seungie,” you whispered, hands gripping the other side of the counter, “Please.” 

“Fuck,” Heeseung always lost it when you begged for him like that. The way his nickname you’ve given him just rolls off your tongue. Drives him insane. He was putty in your hands and would bend to your every will. 

He played it off with his tough guy act, being so cold and dominant, which he did enjoy, yes. He loved seeing how you fold so fast at the way he handles you, but god he would submit to you so fast. All you had to do was give him commands, and he’d do it. 

Heeseung lifted your ass up higher, giving him perfect access to your pussy, lining his cock up nicely to your heat. 

You were about to beg him again but stopped the minute he pushed himself inside you, fucking into you at a desirable pace. 

You were so sure you drew blood from your lip at how hard you were clenching down on it to keep the moans from slipping out. Knuckles turning white from the grip you had on the counter. 

Heeseung was starting to lose himself in the pleasure. He hasn’t felt your cunt in almost a month. His hand only did so much for him, porn did nothing, and trying to hook up with someone else was out of the question. 

Heeseung hung his head low, watching how you took his cock in its entirety, releasing soft groans from his lips. 

You no longer could hold out. Your lip fell from your teeth, mouth slightly opened as the start of a loud moan escaped. 

Heeseung was quick to act, shoving his fingers into your mouth and pulling you up, his lips found your ear, “What did I fucking tell you?” he growled, “I said keep that whore mouth shut.” 

You moaned against his fingers, head spinning from how rough he was being with you. You loved it. 

There was just something about the way Heeseung fucked you that always had you coming back for more. 

Sunghoon fucked you so good as well, but he wasn’t rough like Heeseung. 

Sunghoon will get rough with you, but not to the same extent Heeseung would. Sunghoon was more gentle, focused more on your pleasure than his own, and always made sure you felt loved and safe during sex. Which you adored completely. But sometimes a girl needs to be thrown around and fucked senseless. 

Which is what Heeseung gave you. Heeseung made sure you felt good, yes. But he would always balance it out where you both are feeling good. Heeseung loves getting rough with you. Loves bending you over any object he could, and loves fucking you so aggressively. Pinning you to every surface. Pushing your face into the pillows, blankets, and couch cushions. It was so hot to him, mostly knowing it’s what you want. 

Both boys give you two different types of sex you crave. And maybe that’s why you fell in love with them both. They each bring something to the table for you, and not just in a sexual way. 

Heeseung’s head was starting to spin, losing himself even more. 

You sucked on his fingers, your tongue rubbing between them. 

“F-fuck,” he moaned, feeling like he was going to cum right now just from you sucking his digits. 

“Can’t believe you called it off with me,” he whispered, pumping into you faster to chase the climax he wants so badly, “Can’t believe you kiss him in front of me,” he was starting to sound angry, “Can’t fucking believe I’ve had to hear the way he pleasures you when you stay the night,” he pushes into you deep, holding himself there for a few seconds, then sliding out and fucking back into you, punctuating the next words with each thrust, “It. Drives. Me. Fucking. Insane.” 

You didn’t realize how close you were until that knot snapped, coating his cock of your cum. 

“Oh, fuck,” Heeseung whined, shoving his fingers deeper into your mouth, “Fuck baby, I’m fixing to cum, holy fuck.” 

Heeseung couldn’t hold out anymore, releasing his load inside you, a groan leaving his mouth. 

He took a few deep breaths before removing himself from you and quickly sliding your panties back into place and shoving your skirt back down. 

You turned around just in time to see Heeseung zip back up his jeans and clasp his belt, hands running through his hair, the sweat obvious on his skin. 

“You might want to wash your face off before going back upstairs,” you mumbled, taking your empty glass and refilling it with water. 

Heeseung leaned against the counter, smirking, “Fucked you so good after a month and that’s the thanks I get?” 

You glared at him, pointing your index finger at him, “This is the last fucking time Lee Heeseung, you got what you wanted so respect my wishes.” 

You turned away from him, making your way back towards the stairs.

“You’ll come back for more,” he teased, loving the way your body tensed up and whipped around to face him again. 

“You’re such a dick.” 

Heeseung wanted to fight back, to beg you to reconsider leaving him like this, but couldn’t. Not with the sounds of someone coming down the stairs. Not just anyone. Sunghoon. 

He reached the bottom of the steps, eyes looking back and forth between you and Heeseung, “Did you two get into a fight?” 

“Something like that,” you scoff, turning to face your boyfriend, standing on your tiptoes to place a kiss on his cheek, Heeseung tensed. “I am going to shower then go to your room to watch a movie, my head still hurts. Is that okay?” 

Sunghoon smiled at you, “Of course, princess, I’ll join you if that’s fine? I’ll brush your hair.” 

You nodded, “I’d love that.” 

Sunghoon kissed your forehead, it not getting past him that you were sweaty, but said nothing, watching as you ran up the stairs. 

Heeseung opened the fridge, pulling out a beer he originally was supposed to come down here for. 

Sunghoon chuckled, “That was a long time being down here just to only now get a beer.” 

Heeseung just eyed his best friend, trying to play the most bullshit poker face, “Would have gotten it sooner, but your girlfriend yelled at me for being such a sour puss.” 

Sunghoon rolled his eyes, “Right, okay. Sure.” 

Heeseung clocked the attitude, “Is there a problem?” 

Sunghoon just laughed, shoving his hands into his pockets, “No. Just that if you’re going to fuck my girlfriend, at least make it not so stupidly obvious.” 

Heeseung sighed, closing his eyes tightly and dipping his head towards the floor, “Hoon, man I am so sorry.” 

Sunghoon walked closer to his friend, making sure the next words he spoke wouldn’t reach the ears of the others or even you, “Do you take me as some fool? You don’t think I didn’t know you guys were screwing each other behind my back for months? I’ve been dating YN for three years, and have known you my whole life, you really think I wouldn’t have caught on?”

Heeseung didn’t know what to say besides the truth, “It just happened, man. Neither of us wanted things to get this way.” 

Sunghoon heard enough and the last thing he wanted was to fight with his best friend, regardless of the betrayal. 

So without another word, Sunghoon turned around. 

“If it counts for anything, she called it off a while ago. I’m the one who kept pressuring and pushing her buttons.” Heeseung felt like shit. He knew everything would come to a head eventually or even if it didn’t, it would have been a secret he kept and took to his grave. 

“I know,” was all Sunghoon said, “Again, I am no idiot. I noticed a change.” 

Heeseung watched as his friend took a few more steps, “I am in love with her,” those words made Sunghoon turn back around, “I love her so bad man.” Heeseung clenched his hand on his shirt, “I can’t stop that feeling.” 

Sunghoon just nodded, “I know you do man,” he shook his head with a sigh, “I see it when you look at her. She…she loves you too.” 

Heeseung’s heart stopped, the grip on his shirt loosening, “What?” 

“She loves you,” Sunghoon repeated, “I know about the hidden folder of the photos you two have. I caught her looking at them, she was crying. It was the same night I believe she called it off with you.” 

Heeseung stayed quiet, not sure what was the right thing to even say. 

“Why did you never confront us?” Heeseung genuinely wanted to know. 

Sunghoon just shrugged, “Because she loves you, I guess. The last thing I wanted was to cause problems between our friend group or between her and me. That’s how much I love you both to put up with it. Yeah, eventually I knew I had to say something, but she cut ties with you before I could do anything.” 

Heeseung was still in disbelief that you loved him. Yet the love and loyalty for Sunghoon was stronger. But knowing you loved him was still enough. 

“She loves you deeply, Hoon,” he twisted the bottle cap off of the beer, “Enough to break my damn heart.” 

Sunghoon nodded, “I won’t tell her I know. And you won’t either, got it?” 

Heeseung nodded back, “Hoon, I am so sorry. I promise it’s done. It won’t happen anymore.” 

“Good,” Sunghoon turned back around and headed back up the stairs, “I’m insane when it comes to her. I don’t do well with sharing what’s mine.” 

Once Sunghoon was out of sight, Heeseung fell to the floor, tipping the bottle to his lips, “I don’t do well with sharing what should be mine either.” 

[pathologicalreid]

what about Spencer x reader in a relationship and readers struggling with drug addiction?

and now i have to act like i can't read your mind | S.R.

your sobriety is broken by an old 'friend', and spencer's there to help you navigate a new reality

who: spencer reid x fem!reader category: angst, hurt/comfort content warnings: drug use, being drugged, spencer's addiction (pre-s12, i was thinking s9), attempted sa, probably inaccurate bc i've never been a drug addict (only dated one), rehab, sobriety, self harm and death. hospitals. take care while reading. word count: 2.6k a/n: i love you cool about it i love you boygenius i love you spencer reid

You could hear your own heartbeat, it was so loud that, for a moment, you could convince yourself that your heart was migrating through your body. The cold of the bathroom tiles sept into your skin as you willed it to cool down the rest of your body. Your inability to recall how you ended up on the bathroom floor didn’t concern you, the only thing you could think of was getting the rest of your body to feel as cold as the bathroom floor.

And then the knocking on the door woke you up. Quick, frantic knocks at the bathroom door jolted you awake as you blinked the sleep out of your eyes, “Y/N, open the door,” Spencer said from the other side of the door.

Against your better judgment, you didn’t move to open the door. “I don’t have anything,” you mumbled, rubbing your eyes as they struggled to focus in the bathroom, only a nightlight available to illuminate the small space. You sat up, using the edge of the bathtub as a backrest as you took a deep breath, imagining air swirling through your lungs as you did so.

“Baby, you have to open the door for me,” he begged, fidgeting with the door handle. At some point in your exhaustion, you must have broken the number one rule in your apartment – no locked doors. Obviously, he hadn’t heard your response, because he just continued to knock, “I need to know that you’re okay.”

Besides a crick in your neck from sleeping on the mosaic tile, you were fine, but Spencer didn’t wait for an answer from you before swinging the door open, the key still in the lock. “I’m fine,” you told him, but he wasn’t looking at you, he was looking around the bathroom. “There’s nothing in here,” you said, knowing he’d still look.

After he had done a once over of the bathroom, he crouched in front of you, “You fell asleep in the bathroom?” His brows were furrowed in concern as he hooked a finger beneath your chin and tilted your head to the side, inspecting the imprint the tiles had made on your cheek.

You nodded dejectedly, “I didn’t feel well, I must’ve locked the door on instinct, but I…” Your voice trailed off, thinking about the bathroom in your dream. “I was in the bathroom?”

Spencer gave you a confused look, “You’re still in the bathroom?” He responded, feeling your head with the back of his hand as if he was checking for a fever.

“No, at the bar,” you clarified, “I was in the bathroom.”

He swallowed thickly, studying your expression for a moment before answering, “Yeah, that’s where they found you.”

‘They’ being the group of college friends that you had gone out with last weekend, just a small get-together while a few of them were in town. It had been a perfectly fine outing until one of them had slipped something in your drink, knowing your history with drugs, he had thought he could brush it off by telling people you relapsed.

Ten years. Ten years clean. Ten years without a pill. Ten years reduced to six days, just because a guy you went to college with wanted a quick fuck.

But his business degree hadn’t taught him how to measure the drugs he had gotten from god knows where, and in the process, he nearly killed you. You excused yourself to the bathroom where you promptly keeled over, hitting the ground hard enough to bruise the side of your body.

A college girl, who you’d never be able to thank, had found you and called an ambulance, and one of your friends had called Spencer.

You reached up and wiped at your face, “I didn’t take the drugs,” you mumbled, pulling your knees to your chest.

“I know, baby, I know,” Spencer told you, reaching out and gingerly resting a hand on your shoulder. He had been your biggest advocate in the hospital, requesting new nurses if any of them even dared to look at you funny, turning away visitors on your behalf, and letting you cry into his shoulder when he had to be the one to explain what happened.

Spencer had been the one to insist something was wrong, his rational mind couldn’t find any justification for why you would try to overdose on ketamine after being off narcotics for a decade. Without leaving your bedside, he asked the BAU to get security footage from the bar, and just like that, you were no longer a strung-out addict but a victim.

You didn’t remember much of anything from that night, bits and pieces came back to you in flashes, but you’d have to learn to be okay with never having memories of that night. You had lost something so dear to you, and you were struggling with trying to choose if it was better to have no memory or to remember everything.

The hospital staff kept you overnight, waiting for the drugs to leave your system until Spencer brought you home. He was taking time off to stay with you, taking every snide remark that you threw in his direction because he knew. He knew you were retaliating against what had happened to you, and he knew that none of the anger you felt was genuinely directed at him.

Once you had gotten home, the first thing you told Spencer was that you wished he had killed you.

The only person in your life who would understand was Spencer, but he still had to take precautions. He changed the code on his gun safe, all sharp objects were now out of reach, and when he searched the bathroom earlier, he was looking for something you could use to hurt yourself.

Resting your chin on your knee, you sighed and closed your eyes. You looked outside the bathroom, the faint glow of a lamp emanating from the bedroom, “What time is it?”

“Almost four,” Spencer answered, that would be four in the morning then.

You still had a few hours before you needed to get up and face the day, there were therapists to see and NA meetings to attend. “Are you going to work today?” You opened your eyes to see that Spencer had joined you in sitting on the floor.

He shook his head, “No, I’m gonna stay with you for at least a few more days.”

A certain kind of guilt built in your stomach when Spencer stayed away from work on your behalf like you were dooming people by keeping him from the FBI. “Maybe you should just have me committed,” you told him, wrapping your arms around your knees, trying to make yourself seem as small as possible.

“I really don’t think that’s necessary,” he said, giving you a knowing look. “Do you think that’s your next step? In-patient rehab?”

Taking a deep, shaky breath, you tightened your grip on your legs, “You could go back to work if you didn’t have to stay back and babysit me.”

The dim lamp from the bedroom cast abstract shadows across his face, “I’m not particularly concerned about work right now.”

Pulling yourself up from the floor, you turned on the tap and splashed your face with cold water before switching the water off. “You and I know you don’t get enough PTO to keep staying home with me,” you snatched a washcloth from the towel bar, pressing the cotton to your skin and groaning.

“I’ve worked it out,” he responded, providing you with no more details – they weren’t strictly necessary.

Setting the towel back in its place, you sniffled before turning to face him, “Give Dave his PTO back, Spencer.”

Rising to his feet, he looked at you with misery in his eyes – misery you had caused. “It’s already gone through to HR, and for the record, everyone pitched in to help, Y/N.”

“God, fuck the record! I don’t care if the director himself came to you and gave you more time off, you don’t need it,” you told him, dramatically trudging out of the bathroom with Spencer following close behind.

Instead of meeting his eyes, you focused on his hair, a single strand had fallen across his forehead. “I can’t in good conscience leave you alone. Baby, you have to understand that. I know how you’re feeling right now.”

You scoffed, “You have no fucking idea what I’m going through right now.”

That wasn’t technically true though. Spencer sighed, taking each of your hands into his, “Being victimized-“

“Don’t call me that,” you interjected, flinching at the word he chose to use.

Spencer paused for a moment, squeezing your hands reassuringly before speaking again, “In this situation, you’re a victim first and an addict second. You’re being deposed because you’re the victim of a crime that the state is taking to trial. I know you hate the word, and if I have to be the one to desensitize you to it, then I’m alright with that.”

You’d previously asked about being allowed to provide a written statement instead of being presented in court, but you were still waiting for a response. In the meantime, you needed to make a decision on whether or not you wanted to make a tort claim. “I don’t want to be,” you breathed, wishing you could turn back time.

“I know,” he whispered, “and it’s not fair. None of this is fair to you, but you’re not seventeen and being prescribed oxycodone by a surgeon. You’ve been dealt a hand of cards for a game you never wanted to play in the first place, and I’m so sorry for that.”

Swallowing thickly, you looked at him, blinking back tears when you accidentally met his eyes, “How… no it’s- never mind.”

Spencer frowned, “Stop doing that,” he spoke gently.

“Doing what?” You asked, leaning back against the bed, using the mattress for support.

He knelt in front of you, allowing you to maintain the upper hand, “Starting to open up and then shutting yourself down. You’re filtering your words, and I’d rather you hurt my feelings than stay silent,” he reassured you, “I can take it.”

Pursing your lips, you peered down at him, “How do you cope with it?”

“Cope with what, baby?”

Taking a deep breath, you looked at him thoughtfully, “The loss of autonomy,” you answered. “That… that was how it started for you, right? Being drugged? How do you cope with having that decision forcibly taken away from you? Because, right now, all I can think of is lashing out in some way to try to reclaim my autonomy.”

“Like hurting yourself?” He asked, peering up at you through his eyelashes.

There had been moments where you considered it, things like putting your hand on the kettle when you made tea. You wanted an external wound that you could use to somehow convey the hurt you felt internally. “Yes,” you breathed, the answer escaping from your lips before giving it a second thought, “Or taking something.” A city like D.C. was never lacking in narcotics dealers – you just had to know where to go.

Spencer frowned, “It’s always been different for me than it was for you. I think it’s important for you to remember that yes, your choice was taken from you that night, but every day and every night since then you have made the choice to protect yourself.”

You sniffled, leaning your head onto your shoulder to wipe tears from your cheeks, “I keep trying to convince myself that one day I’ll forget about it, but I know that’s not true and I- I’m having a really difficult time,” you admitted with watery eyes.

“I know,” Spencer cooed, “I know, c’mere.” He slowly rose to sit next to you on the bed, gathering you in his arms and allowing you to rest your head on his shoulder, tears seeping through the soft cotton of his t-shirt.

His fingers gently skimmed over your spine, causing you to melt into him, “I hate him,” you whispered, wringing your hands as Spencer held you close.

He hummed, “What happened to you does not erase the fact that you were sober for ten years. Do you understand that?” Pausing for a moment, Spencer continued his ministrations on your back, gently rocking back and forth, “You should hate him. You’re allowed to be angry at the situation you’re in, I never want you to think that you can’t express how you’re feeling to me because you’re worried I’ll have you committed.”

“Keep holding me,” you murmured, soaking in the physical contact like a sponge. Other than holding your hands or a hand on your back to guide you, Spencer had been wary of touching you. He was worried about triggering a memory you didn’t know you had, but you’d found yourself wanting him to hold you tightly enough so that you couldn’t break even if you wanted to. “I don’t want to go to rehab,” you told him, keeping your voice just loud enough for him to hear.

Adjusting the way you were sitting, you looked up at him to see that tears of his own had formed in his eyes, “Then no rehab. You have the coping skills that you need to get through this, and I’m going to be here the whole time.”

Your therapist had likened this to a bump in the road, but it felt more equivalent to a sinkhole. “Are we going to be alright?” You asked with a note of hesitation in your voice. There were a lot of tribulations that came with an addict dating another addict, but you and Spencer had always felt stronger together as opposed to apart.

“Yes,” he answered easily as if he had given it thought already, “You and I are going to be just fine. It’s just going to take time.”

You groaned, separating yourself from him and laying back on the bed, “How much time?”

He smiled softly down at you, “As much time as it takes.”

“That’s a horrible answer,” You told him, following his movements with your eyes as he lay down next to you. “You’re supposed to tell me that the power of our love can overcome anything.”

Propping his head up so that he could see you better, Spencer studied your bloodshot eyes, “I love you so astronomically much,” he whispered across the pillows. “There will never be a day where my heart is not full of love for you,” he told you, reaching across the bed to skim his fingers across your cheek.

You melted into your pillow, watching him curiously, “Will you promise to tell me if my recovery becomes too much for you?” Pulling the inside of your cheek between your molars, you awaited his answer, afraid of jeopardizing his sobriety in the name of regaining your own.

He nodded, “I promise that I will tell you if I need to take a minute to protect myself, but you don’t need to worry about censoring yourself to protect me.”

Closing your eyes you nodded, “I’m sorry about all of this.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong, honey. You have done nothing wrong,” he insisted, opening his arms as you shuffled across the mattress to him. “You never have to apologize to me, not for this.”

Resting your head on his shoulder, you absentmindedly traced shapes on his chest with your pointer finger, “Everything feels so… wrong.”

Spencer pressed a gentle kiss to the crown of your head, “It will all level out eventually. The sky can’t fall forever.”

[emeritusemeritus]

Breed like Gnomes [Fred Weasley]

Title: Breed like Gnomes.

Pairing: PregnantWife!Reader x Fred Weasley

Timeline: Set after Canon (Fred lives!)

Summary: At Ginny and Harry’s wedding, you find yourself facing Aunt Muriel’s unpleasantness, so Fred decides to have some fun.

Warnings: Mentions of pregnancy, babies, sexual references.

Word count: 1.2k

June 4th 2003, a joyful and long awaited day for all in attendance. The marriage of Harry Potter and Ginevra Weasley. It was a family affair, both in blood and bond, the entire venue packed with loved ones sharing in the happiness of the newlyweds.

Being Ginny's long standing friend and now sister-in-law, you were naturally made a bridesmaid along with six others who proudly stood by Ginny's side as she said her vows. It was beautiful, joyous and utterly heartwarming to see them unite and be declared husband in wife in front of the many people attending. The couple had initially wanted a much smaller affair than what had transpired but in the end, they were too deeply cared for by so many and the numbers were ever increasing, only made worse by Molly's excitement and welcoming nature.

It had been a truly magical day; getting to support your new sister in law, to see your daughter throw wild flowers down the aisle and most of all getting to check out your husband in his tux as he sat beaming beside his twin brother in the front row, holding back a tear at seeing his little sister suddenly looking so grown up.

"You alright sweetheart?" Fred asks worriedly as you lower yourself gently into your assigned seat inside the bustling marquee. It was getting late now, the party stretching into the night as people danced merrily around you.

You were exhausted from the day, the early morning, the usual nuptial stresses and from the shoes that were growing increasingly uncomfortable around your slightly swollen ankles.

You simply smiled warmly at Fred with a little nod, leaning into his touch when he placed his arm behind you on your chair, his fingers fidgeting with the strands of hair that had fallen down your back.

You both turned your heads in the direction of delighted squeals and watched as your children danced around, chasing each other and their many cousins with beaming smiles on their faces. Their nice outfits were quite frankly ditched at this point and they'd eaten more cake than you cared to admit throughout the day but as you looked at the three happy faces on the dance floor, you couldn't care less. Their uncle George took turns spinning and twirling them and you couldn't help but watch in devotion at seeing your oldest dancing with your brother in law, no doubt standing on his feet as he glided her around whilst the twins ran in circles around the dancing pair.

You let out a little surprise gasp when you felt a sharp kick to your side, just underneath your rib.

"I thought you were asleep," you say quietly with a loving smile as your hand drifts down to your blooming bump, gently rubbing over the spot where you'd felt a little prod.

"Letting you know he's there?" Fred asks with a smirk, noticing your movements. He moved closer and places his large hand over yours, wanting to feel for himself the little kicks that had you smiling at your bump.

"He?" You question sarcastically, with a slight raise of your eyebrow.

"Fathers intuition," Fred smirks with a slight shrug, "never been wrong yet."

"You didn't know there were two last time," you countered teasingly, nodding your head towards the two litttle boys causing havoc on the dance floor. He lets out a boyish chuckle and for a moment you both catch each other's eyes, both twinkling in delight and bound with love. You'd been married for nearly five years, together for much longer but it still took your breath away how much you loved this man, and how much he loved you in return.

"Good heavens!"

The nice moment passed as soon as the loud, screechy voice sounded out on the next table, forcing you apart. You jumped slightly at the unexpected noise before realising that Fred's great aunt Muriel had taken up a seat at the table beside yours and as usual her presence was unwanted. Her voice went through you, like nails on a chalkboard. The high tone and the derogatory, unpleasant undertone to her words, accompanied by the constant hateful look on her face were enough to cement a negative association in your mind. Both you and Fred deflated a little at her presence, with Fred letting out an audible sigh that you felt in your soul. Even your baby let out a sharp kick as if to announce their own displeasure at the sound of her voice.

"Yes aunt Muriel?" Fred says in the most monotone voice he can muster, not even attempting to hide the dismay in his voice, or his face.

"Godric," she mumbles under her breath, casting her eyes between the two of you, focusing her beady eyes on your bump, and where your children were currently hanging off George like monkeys in a tree. "You breed like gnomes!"

You hope your face doesn't show the depth of your exasperation at her words but you doubted your ability to keep a straight face. Fred, of course, finds it hilarious and can't keep the smile off of his face. You can feel his shoulders moving up and down with silent laughter but he manages to contain it and simply clears his throat to hide the laughter.

"Have either of you considered simply reading of an evening? Instead of what I assume are your usual activities?" She says with a bitter tone, face downturned into her usual grimace.

Fred snorts at her words and though you feel slightly offended by her accusation, just as you always did by her comments, you can't help but chuckle yourself at the strangeness of the situation. Was she really commenting on your sex life?

"Onto your fourth already! And only 25! You’re worse than your mother, all of you breed like Gnomes."

"You see I've never been one for reading, but I tried," Fred replies coyly. From his tone of voice you can tell that he's teasing, about to prod the bear. "But it only gave me more ideas. What was is called sweetheart? Some muggle book... Kama sutra! Eroticism for begginers. Let me tell you, it's changed my life! Couldn't put it down... or her," he says, nodding his head towards you with a wicked smile on his face as his hand snakes around to cradle your bump once again.

You can't hide your smile this time as Muriel lets out a disgusted squark and turns away with a deeper grimace than before. You turn your head and snuggle into Fred's shoulder to hide your laughter whilst he openly chuckles to himself, head thrown back slightly in glee.

"You're terrible," you mutter with a smirk, pulling yourself away from the soft fabric of his shirt where it stretches over his muscled shoulders. His smile is wide and wicked as he takes in your words, hearing nothing but compliments.

"Hilarious is a better word," he quips, eyes shining in delight.

"Incorrigible."

"Completely irreformable," he agrees without a single care. "But I think you like me like this."

You look up from under your lashes at him, matching the look in his sparkling eyes and can't help but agree.

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