#as expected I did not find anything with the others

[poguehearted77]

Baby Steps

Summary: You and Rafe are expecting your first child and decide to take a trip to the beach, not expecting to be joined by a guest with chubby cheeks and pull ups.

-some more domesticated rafe as per your request-

The golden hues of the late afternoon sun stretch across the horizon, casting a warm glow over the beach as you and Rafe arrive. You smile at the feeling of the hot sand between your toes.

The waves lazily lap against the shore, creating a serene soundtrack to your special day. It was a beautiful day out, for sure. With the cooler gripped in one hand, with the umbrella on top, and the box containing a special mini cake in his other hand, Rafe is already in full preparation mode.

“Here, let me help with that,” you offer, but Rafe shakes his head, his grin both charming and determined. "You're already carrying something valuable, let me handle the rest, okay?" Rafe reassures you as he places the items down in a nice vacated space.

Far enough from the waves to not get wet, but close enough to still hear the water cracking against the sand at an amplified volume as the perfect white noise for you to do some beach reading. You glance down at your rounded belly, letting your left hand rest over the precious cargo he's referring to.

"I'm only four months, babe. I can still carry things. Just let me help you set up at least." You hold onto the muscle of his upper arm with a soft frown and he can't resist. An idea visibly dawned upon him. "Yeah, you know what." He props open the cooler and pulls out a chilled bottle of water, "I need you to drink this, I don't want you to get too hot."

Your eyes roll and you take the bottle, about to ease yourself down onto the beach chair when Rafe is suddenly behind you, a guiding palm on your lower back to lighten your load as you sit down. "Rafe, you're joking, right? I know how to sit down by myself." You huff and he sees you're starting to get frustrated.

He crouches down to be near you, "Look, baby. I'm sorry, okay? It's all just so new to me and I don't want anything to happen to you or the baby especially not if I can help it." Your arms unfold, and your composure melts under his apologetic gaze.

How could you be mad at him? He was just so cute and excited to be a dad, he wanted to make sure you had the safest, most comfortable pregnancy possible, and he made sure of that at all times. He set up everything while you didn't lift a finger.

You'd even slipped into a light nap as he did so. Waking up under the shade of the beach umbrella and almost certain there was an extra layer of sunscreen on your arms that wasn't there before.

Your towels laid out on the sand in front of you where Rafe knelt, the cake now put away in the cooler as he organized the supplies in the first-aid kit he insisted on bringing along.

"Is this all you're gonna do all day?" You mumble, lifting up your sun hat a bit to see him better and he smiles. "Well, you fell asleep on me, so I was keeping myself busy." Taking that as your cue to stand, leaving your hat behind on the chair and untying the flowy coverup you'd been wearing.

"I'm up now, let's get in the water." He's right behind you as your heels kick up sand with your eager steps to the ocean. Your laughs blend harmoniously in the water. Playful splashes and stolen kisses fill your afternoon for the next hour until you're ready for lunch.

Now Rafe was lounging under the shade, sunglasses covering his sky-blue eyes as he relaxed on the chair. Meanwhile, you enjoyed the warm sun kissing your skin as you sat on the towel, preparing some sandwiches for you both to share.

That brings you to now, the two of you sitting on the sandy towels with satiated appetites and a pleased smile on your faces, enjoying each other's company. "You ready now?" Rafe proposes, referring to the mini cake in the cooler which had either a pink or blue filling. You shake your head.

"Not yet, I need more time." He laughs, "At this rate, you'll find out when the baby comes." He says casually and your brow arches, "Only me? Don't you mean the both of us?" His head shakes, "Uh uh, I'm eating that cake with or without you." He jokes and you swat at him, causing him to spill some water from the bottle he was sipping before putting it away.

His attention was stolen from you and focused on something behind you, before you could even turn your head, Rafe's reflexes are shown as his arms reach out for the tumbling toddler who'd tripped over the uneven terrain and it seems she'd been running at a pace faster than her chunky legs could keep up with.

"Woah! Hey there, pudding," The nickname rolls off Rafe's tongue so naturally you hardly even recognize it, she looks up at him from within his stronghold. "Hi!" She waves and Rafe smiles so big it warms your heart to see.

"Where are your parents?" He follows up but she busies herself with the chain around his neck, blabbering the words 'Dada' in the sweetest voice you'd ever heard.

Rafe's eyes crinkle at the corners with his smile as he looks at you, mouthing the words, "She's so cute" and you mouth back, "I know," "I wonder where her parents are." You say, checking the tag on her swim top for any signs of identification but nothing. The two of you stand, the toddler hanging off Rafe's side, having the time of her life with a cheeky smile.

The two of you paced the beach, up and down. "I know her parents are worried sick," You mutter, checking your phone for any services you can contact for a 'lost baby on the beach please help!'

"If they don't come back, do you think we can keep her?" Rafe inquires and you laugh, "It's probably every parent's nightmare to hear a stranger say that as you're holding their missing child." You say, stopping in your tracks and placing your hands on your back with a sigh, worn out from all the walking.

"Are you okay?" Rafe checks in and you nod, "Maybe we should just go back and wait? Her parents might be walking around too and we keep missing them." Rafe agrees and the three of you walk back to your place on the beach, each of you holding her hand as she had insisted on being put down.

You kept her busy once you returned to your spot, building sand castles and giving her some water and sunscreen to keep her hydrated and protected from the slowly setting sun.

"How old are you?" Rafe laughs at your attempts to have full conversations with who he assumes is a two-year-old, but your guess was three. "Me Ava." She says and your eyes widen. Your initial question remained unanswered but now you had other answers.

"Ava! Hi Ava!" You coo, tickling her tummy until she's a bundle of fits and giggles, completely oblivious to the longing look Rafe has on you. "Tummy!" She says, and you laugh, not sure what she's talking about until she places a hand on your belly. "Big tummy!" She repeats and Rafe can't help but stifle a laugh at her direct observation.

"That's right. There's a baby in here." You explain but her head tilts, lost. "Baby?" You gave the soft waves of her hair a gentle pat, admiring her innocence, "That's right, it's either a girl baby or a boy baby." To your surprise, she begins chanting for a 'boy baby'. "See, Ava gets it." Rafe teases, always taking the opportunity to talk about having the boy he so desperately begs you for as if you had any say in the matter.

"Hungry," She whines and that sends Rafe digging into the cooler for snacks. You let her decide which fruit she wanted but her eye had caught sight of the mini container of cake that had been taken out in order to find the other items.

"Looks like she knows what she wants," Rafe smiles and you think about it, "We can't give her sugar, Rafe. Here, do you want some watermelon?" Her focus now is on the juicy red fruit you presented to her on a plate.

She must be fond of it, slurping up the juices and making a mess of her top. Fortunately, it was later washed off with the salt water when Rafe insisted on playing with her after she'd digested her food.

The sun was slowly beginning to set and the three of you had been lounging around for the last thirty minutes or so, when Ava made a loud shriek, "Mama!" She yelled, hopping off the towel and into her mom's arms.

Ava's mom graces you with a tight hug and a desperate stream of never-ending apologies and gratitude. She congratulated you on the little one you were expecting, confident you'd be amazing parents. "Now, what do you say to the nice people who watched you, Ava?" Her mom prompts, with what you could imagine is a very secure hold on Ava's hand, ensuring she doesn't slip away again.

"Thank you!" She beams, showing off her tiny baby teeth and you feel a twinge of sadness at the thought of her leaving. The last two hours, though chaotic, gave you the reassurance you were looking for with the whole parenting thing.

You wave them goodbye and you take a deep breath, "I'm ready," You don't have to explain anything more and you're both walking back to your spot to cut the cake. Only to see a toddler-sized footprint in it that Ava must've caused as she got up, denting the container and the contents inside smushing against its confines.

Pink.

"Wait…" You say, in disbelief, kneeling down with Rafe doing the same. "Are we-" He says, eyes misting over and you call him out, "Hey, I thought you wanted a boy." He holds you close, "I thought so too, but I'm honestly just glad it's with you." He brings you in for a kiss on your forehead. She's so loved already and she doesn't even know it.

[crypticpine]

All of this is very important, and I am glad people are pointing this out about homeschooling. But when I say I love homeschooling and if I have kids, would want to homeschool if possible, I am not talking about this type.

As prev said, the evangelical Christian homeschooling is a cult and I advise to stay away as much as you can. Pity the people part of it, but don't go out of your way to interact with them.

Now, this isn't to say I wasn't taught Christianity, I'm Catholic and was raised that way, but my mom was able to find textbooks and programs that would teach me what I needed to know, no matter if it was Christian or not (not Christian with math and science iirc), and had religion a seperate thing that would sometimes blend into other subjects (like English and History). I learned about evolution, and was taught that while it is controversial to say it was real, it doesn't disprove God exists because that could be how He made the world. I mention this as an example of a more well-rounded homechool education that with the resources we had, didn't rely solely on religious texts.

Now, that isn't to say I didn't have the issue mentioned by OP with the thinking I'm smarter than I actually am and having gaps in my knowledge. I don't know anything about politics and my math skills are not the best (though the math is because of dyslexia and all that). I could've read better books for my English, like the classics (though that's also dyslexia). College really did round out my education and helped me understand that I am not that smart tm. It gave me the knowledge my mom wasn't able to. It helped me socially by showing me so many different viewpoints and growing my empathy. I was also expected to go to college, something most homeschoolers aren't usually told to even consider as an option.

Bottom line is, there's absolutely a way to do homeschooling right and there are non-religious resources you can use. With how self paced and personal homeschooling is, where you can really focus on strengths and weaknesses, it sucks that it's used for oppression and cults.

[arotheosis]

Thinking so deeply about Evan basically going "i wanted to live in a magical treehouse with the three of you forever" and the way it made me feel the exact same way as I did when I heard the "everyone will find someone that matters more to them than you" quote out of context from Fantasy High (i still havent even seen it i really need to). It speaks so deeply to me as an aroace person in a way that i cant fully explain. I'm never going to have a family in the way that is expected, and to me it feels so incredibly likely that everyone I know and love will have someone else to go back to, some other better, realer, relationships to fulfill. Having those childish dreams in your highschool years where you're so sure that all of your friends are going to be by your side forever, and that they're always going to be the same people with the same interests (like how Evan placed them all into neat distinct categories of sports and shadows and sparkles and pink) because you're so scared that everything is changing and before you know its going to be gone. And you know that once that's gone for you, you might never find anything like it again, because you're fundamentally different, maybe even fundamentally broken, and maybe that's okay because your friends deserve something you can't really give them.

[curtins]

SO IT GOES — R. Sukuna

prologue. → newly-wed life is hardly what you expected it to be, its hardly a surprise. after all, how many people find themselves bound to the notorious king of curses? but after a frosty few weeks, sukuna finds the easiest way to win you over is when he's on his knees, and between your thighs.

pairing. ryomen sukuna x afab!reader

warnings. implied arranged marriage, sukuna-like jerkish behaviour that you might expect, softer ending, a bit of ooc sukuna and he's hardly an ideal husband but this is his version of trying, øral (fem! receiving), reader is referred to as 'little wife', questionable dynamics?

word count. 2.8k! song inspiration. so it goes — taylor swift, reputation a/n. up to u to imagine how reader ended up in this marriage lol

mp3. scratches down your back now, so it goes.

ryomen sukuna was not a being of great patience. as the king of curses, feared and revered for centuries, he had watched dynasties crumble, empires burn, and warlords kneel. but none of those victories compared to the relentless, quiet struggle he now faced: winning over his new wife.

it was absurd and annoying, really. why did he care what an impudent human thought of him? he had armies of souls quivering in terror before his throne, realms that chanted his name with bitterness and fury dwelling on their tongues.

yet, somehow, he found himself furious that you were as unimpressed with his power as you were by his world.

it gnawed at him, this strange need to see something other than disdain in your eyes. instead, he was growing sick of seeing you merely raise your chin, your gaze cold and unreadable, before turning and walking away, your robes trailing away like a splash of wine-red on stone floors.

and sukuna could only stand there, and scowl, with his arms crossed across his broad chest, resisting the urge to launch a column of fresh flames in your direction.

sukuna's first attempt had been bold, even by his standards. bolder than anything that a mortal like you ever deserved.

he had summoned the finest treasures from his vaults, gifts that would make emperors and khans grovel: strings of blood-red rubies, ivory combs carved with ancient spells, silks that shimmered like starlight under the cold nights. he had ordered them delivered to your chambers, confident these displays would thaw your indifference, for did women not clamour for such things in life?

yet you'd only glanced at them, a faintly polite look of thanks in your expression before you brushed the treasures aside, dismissing them as easily as the breeze stirred leaves in his gardens.

“it’s lovely,” you had murmured, your voice cool. “but unnecessary.”

unnecessary. the word irritated him, a thorn lodged too deep. unwanted. so he tried another approach.

the next evening, he brought you to his gardens — a place few had the honour of ever seeing.

it was quiet, twilight realm, with silver-petaled trees that glowed softly against the eternal dark. the air was scented with flowers that only bloomed under the moon, and shimmering koi would swim in ponds as black as polished obsidians. he'd assumed it would impress you, even move you to see such peace in a palace that was so fraught with the intimacy of blood, flesh and violence. instead, he felt all of his eyes twitch as you gazed around with a calm, fatigued expression, and nothing more.

"it's beautiful," you had admitted, fingers wringing under the long sleeves of your robe, but you had sniffled and looked back up at him with a mild grimace, "but i have really bad allergies to most flowers."

what the fuck were allergies?

later, he learned that it was some ailments that only mortals could suffer, one that would leave them reddened and swollen, gods be good.

sukuna could feel himself growing frustrated, and the urge to toss you in chains was welling up inside. yet, for reasons that he loathed to name, he fought it down. he didn't want you to leave, didn't want to watch you retreat into your shell yet again. but it was difficult letting the silence linger, this strange vulnerability settling deep within his chest.

and as night fell, alone in his vast chamber, the king of curses was ashamed to admit that he was brooding. if treasures and displays of tranquility meant nothing to you, what would? there was another avenue, one that left a curling, bitter pit in his mouth, a trait that he so loathed to display to all.

humility. how boring. how mortal.

but regardless, he appeared at the wide doors of your chambers the next morning. he had even relished the brief look of surprise on your face, but it was quickly replaced by the cool-glass mask that sat over your features once more. he must have made for quite the sight indeed — in his true form, two arms at his side, and the other two folded behind him.

sukuna didn't quite miss at how your gaze lingered over his vast form, and then your eyes twitched.

“today,” he announced gruffly, “i am going to make you tea. myself.”

how ridiculous, he could imagine uraume snickering to hell and back.

he half expected you to laugh or scorn him, but you simply raised your eyebrows, seemingly quietened and more curious. without waiting for you to decline, he led you to a quiet corner of the chambers, where servants tended to lay out such items, as part of a morning routine. there was a simple tea set, nothing adorned with gold or precious stones, but rather plain and finely crafted porcelain.

he waited for you to settle, watching as you arranged your thick skirts and tucked your legs beneath you. only then did Sukuna speak.

"i don’t like you," he said bluntly. "you’re ill-mannered and audacious. i’ve half a mind to send you back."

you blinked, her lashes lifting in surprise, and a small, satisfying crease formed between your brows before your expression turned into a scowl. "that’s rather unkind."

sukuna shrugged, eyes narrowed. "wouldn’t you say the feeling is mutual?"

you glowered back, unflinching. "you can hardly blame me. you’re a demon, after all. i don’t even know you."

"a 'demon' who has been exceedingly kind to you," he replied, his tone curt, clipped. "there are far worse fates that could have befallen you. i’ve been too amiable to a woman like you."

you had jutted your lower lip forward, your skin catching under your teeth, lips dark as cherries dipped in blood and wine, and for a brief moment, sukuna's ire faltered before refocusing.

"and you think kindness is stuffing me into fancy chambers and draping jewels around my neck? like i'm one of your prized and properly bred deer?"

sukuna leaned forward, arching a brow with lazy derision. "don't speak ill of my prized herd. but go on, preach to me of kindness."

your scowl deepened. "you haven’t even bothered to ask me a single thing about myself. showering me with material things isn’t how you make someone happy, much less a wife. the servants told me you forbade me from attending your court, and i'm left alone in this palace for days on end."

sukuna blinked, yes, he had forbidden you from attending court, but that was for both your dignities. it would be disastrous to expose you to the fools, murderers, and curses of his realm — a mortal bride, naive and untrained, would only appear weak and vulnerable.

"fine," he said, with a hint of resignation, and ridicule. "i’ll ask things about you from now on. would that make you feel better, little wife?"

he pushed the tea he’d prepared towards her, holding the porcelain cup in his hands. "now, go on. drink this."

your gaze remained cool as you eyed the steam brewing in the cup. "the first thing you should know is that i don’t like this tea, you picked the wrong leaves. you drink it, good husband."

sukuna resisted the urge to throw the boiling liquid at you, but instead he pushed the cup into your empty hands, "don’t be a fuckin' brat. behave and drink it."

you didn't say anything, but you shoved the cup back into his larger hands, and sukuna snarled, thrusting the delicate tea with a greater force than expected, and splash!

the silent tug of war had resulted in the bitter leaves being strewn across the heavy silk layers of your robes, and despite himself, sukuna couldn't help how his lips quirked upwards at your shocked, angry expression as you launched yourself up, flicking your sleeves in his face like a flapping bird, muttering furious, filthy words that not even a sailor would sing on his most drunken of nights.

as you stormed around the chamber like an angry parrot, sukuna watched you silently, and surely he could not be faulted for this. he would not admit this ever, but it was pleasing to rest his eyes on your figure, on your face, on the cling of your robes to the curve of your hips.

"go sit on the bed."

you whipped around, glaring at him. "i will not! stop telling me what to do."

"enough of being difficult, sit down."

now your voice had begun to falter, "i need to change my robes. this is improper if i'm to leave these chambers."

by now, he had stood and moved quick to the edge of the vast canopy bed, where you had perched yourself gingerly. close, all too close, where he could inhale the intoxicating scent of honey and mint, a fresh soap perhaps?

"i will determine what is proper, and improper," sukuna murmured, and there, for the first time in written history, the king of curses dropped to his knees.

and he relished the flush on your cheeks, a red brushstroke that had appeared as quick as a fallen star, running your skin awash with heat. you had peered down at him, squirming under his many-eyed gaze. and he enjoyed this, relished at bringing himself closer to her long skirts, until his hands found their place on your thighs.

"what are you — " your words trailed off, tone breathier, as he pawed suddenly at the silk, pushing it up, and up. revealing the stockings you had worn to combat the winter cold, where the hem clung to the fat of your thighs, and so close to the silk of your innermost garments that were now starting to feel like an awful suffocation.

"what am i doing? helping you, or is this not a manner of how a husband can treat his unruly wife?"

you couldn't help but feel a shiver run through you, a tremble pass through your very core as the world around you faded, and all you could focus on was the pair of warm, large hands that ran along your sensitive skin.

"ah, ah —," sukuna rumbled smoothly, lips quirked up a fraction, "we can't have you suddenly shy now, can we? had quite the mouth on you a minute ago."

you weren't sure where to direct your gaze. to the window outside, frosted from the cold hands of winter. to your hands, which lay at your side, rumpled up in your bundled skirts. or to the blush-haired king between your legs, whose carmine eyes were crinkled in feigned amusement, and darkened with undeniable lust.

he taps the plush of your thighs once more, watching as they ripple under the press of his fingertips, "enough being coy. spread them. i do not have all day."

it would not have been a falsehood to claim that a deeper, headier feeling lay in your abdomen, purring like a beast that begged for its maws to be free. undoubtedly, a puddle of slick would be pressing against the silk of your undergarments, like a translucent stain that created a darker, glossy patch between your legs.

but you did not budge, did not move your thighs further. you loathed to admit this to a living soul, but perhaps you found satisfaction in this. there was a sort of pleasure in watching a mighty being brought low, and close to the apex of your thighs. but it seemed that your husband's limited patience had worn thin.

his dark nails dug into your thighs brusquely, in a tight and unyielding grip, knocking them back as if he had no time to spare for anything else in the world.

"fuck you, you're so -," and then your voice breaks off, as the king of curses is pressing his tongue against the sleek, dampened fibres of your undergarments.

and it's oddly...pleasing for sukuna. how intoxicating. he runs his tongue between his teeth, catching around a fang as he fights back the realisation that this is no chore for him, not anymore. perhaps both parties in this room have their own vested interests now.

he pushes his fingers past the undergarments, where slender fingers find a home in the gloss that's practically leaking out of you, "i do not bore you so much now, do i?"

"shut up, - ah!"

he's practically twirling his middle and ring finger between your folds now, letting them run a smooth dance over glistening skin and it left you keening and whimpering, for he was so so close to where you truly wanted him, needed him.

but you need not even articulate this wanton request for him, for his mouth is back on your core, and he's clearly enjoying this without abandon, and without shame. strands of sweet slick splattered across his chiseled features, clinging to his lips but he seemed to care not, and you could only moan and squeal when his fangs made contact with more force that intended.

one arm has your thighs pinned back, leaving a clear space for him to slot his wide frame in between the gap, and another works to pump fingers between your tight walls. a mortal man may be exhausted to his limits in such a state, after all, what can one accomplish when limited by two limbs?

but your husband is no mortal man. a third hand has been running down your groin, past the hair on your mound and from there, a thumb right on your throbbing clit. you feel as though you forget how to breathe when his fingers waywardly flick around, and you cry out, the feeling leaving you breathless and your heart absolutely pounding for reprieve.

"so now she can behave," sukuna's voice is low, mocking and your hands find purchase in the surprisingly soft strands of his hair, pulling forward, as you can't help but get another jibe in.

"if only you had done, hah - this from the start," your voice curls up the sky, weak to your own ears.

smack!

a sharp and shrill cry left your parted lips, as the thick pads of his fingers had come pressing down on your swollen bud. and you could feel stars building up between your eyes, caressing you and taking your breath away.

sukuna looks pleased, mouth glistening and his crimson eyes narrow, "that will teach you to speak when you're spoken to, brat."

and you can only yank on his scalp harder, relishing in how you can feel his broad shoulder's jostle as you do so. your husband's face is flushed, brows furrowed and later you will wonder and marvel at just how intently he seemed to be enjoying such a task that he claimed was so menial and beneath him.

you pity the servants who will not speak a word, but exchange glances as they bundle up the sheets after this. for it's nothing but a syrup-laden mess by now, sloppy and purely wet.

by now the world has long disappeared behind you, in front of your very eyes, and you can only heave your chest towards the sky, rolling your eyes back and shamelessly giving into the wanton moans that bubble out from your lips.

and sukuna is nothing short of utterly satisfied. one look at his mouthy wife's expression, cherry lips parted in a perfect circle, and brows furrowed like a painting — like arrows leaving their bow and finding their target. you need to finish on his tongue, he needs you to finish.

so he pushes his face into your sloppy, sticky cunt even harder. he even lets you run your hands through his hair (a criminal offence, he is certain but perhaps he'll let you go, just this once). he almost purrs when your hands wander further onto his neck, leaving small scratches that almost make him release into his pants.

but now all his energy is poured into making sure you get your climax, that you submit to him and let him have you.

"are you close, little wife?" his voice is akin to gravel now, raw like each clipped syllable was a little too rough for the air to carry. and he only receives breathy whimpers in response, your hips moving off their own accord against his face.

and it's only when you jolt against him, stiffening and crying out praises to the heavens and to the gods, that he loosens up, and pulls you even closer, till your thighs are spread entirely at the widest angle they may reach, enough to leave the muscles in your thighs sore and aching afterwards, "there are no gods here, wife. you best get used to that."

and afterwards, you cannot help the bubbling, bashful grin that erupts over your bitten, stung lips as you peer at your husband who dutifully rests in between your thighs still, you could get used to that indeed.

"do it again."

[signanothername]

Could we have some soft/comfort headcannons about anyone of your choosing? It's election night and I really would like something soft for my brain to chew on instead of worry all night

Absolutely!

Imma give you a bunch of different little guys <333

———

Killer:

-his cats help him a lot with sleep problems, they make him calm enough to the point of actually closing his eyes whenever he’s with them (reminder that he usually sleeps with one eye open xhxbbx)

-after he’s saved, he gradually becomes better at eating, he still avoids food that reminds him of the past but becomes more accepting of other types of food, eventually getting his bone mass and weight back, going from lanky to chubby <3333

-he eventually accepts the state of his soul and instead of trying to fix it, he tries to understand it, understand himself, he becomes a lot more gentle with his own self

———

Color:

-he has albums upon albums full of pictures he took over the years, filled with places he visited, pictures of people he loves and moments he cherishes

-he’s very connected with so many people, and a lot of people find him to be a great confidant, he does a lot to help people where he can, he eventually gets the good he gave back with people taking care of him

-he’s in a queer platonic relationship with Delta and Epic

———

Nightmare:

-he has piles upon piles of gifts Dream gave him for their birthday over the years, he never got rid of any of them, these gifts are something he cherishes dearly

-he’s the one to introduce Killer to Ccino’s cafe, he actually did that with no ill intentions, and Nightmare himself is not really sure why he went out of his way to introduce Killer to the cafe

-he and Dream sometimes sit beside their mother in silence, just taking everything in, taking each other presence in, not talking or interacting, Nightmare feels peaceful during these moments, it’s the closest thing to the same feelings he had as a happy child

———

Dream:

-even though he has a fallout with Ink, he eventually remedies his relationship with them, they become best friends again

-whenever life gets too much, he goes to Swap’s house and stays with the swap bros, it helps immensely

-Dream never expects to receive anything on his birthday, that expectation is broken when he receives a gift from Nightmare, he never got another gift afterwards, it’s only that one gift, but it’s the entire world to him

———

Error:

-he thinks of Ink as his bestest friend in the world, he’d never admit that out loud tho dhdhhdhdh (they’re frenemies)

-he loves geno and Fresh dearly, they’re his proclaimed siblings, he’s more open about his love with them

-he actually takes commissions by making dolls for people who want them in exchange for chocolate as payment (his chocolate stock never runs out zgxggx)

———

Horror:

-He eventually finds a better relationship with food

-he succeeds at escaping from Nightmare and managing to keep his AU (and most importantly his brother) safe in the process

-he finds himself becoming best friends with Farm

———

Ink:

-his art is something others never see, but surprisingly, if you had the chance to see it, then you’d find it’s art the people they love most

-their fallout with Dream actually hurt him, so when he and Dream got back to being besties, they felt very happy about it

-he loves spending time with Color, Epic and Delta cause of their constant traveling habits, they’re very entertaining to be around

-while they spend most his time in the doodlesphere, the second place you’ll most likely see them in is with their parents in the omega timeline, he loves them with all his heart

———

These are the ones I can think of off the top of my head hdhdhdhdh hope they’re enough to rotate in your brain all day <333333

[flowergoddessblooms]

I will never forget that day. In the middle of the night, as the storm raged, wind bellowing, we were safe in our house. It wasn't huge, but we were quite well to do compared to others in our community. The wood burned and the fire crackled, providing warmth much craved. There was enough food to last a month. We all sat in the light of the burning embers. I remember thinking how unfortunate that the others weren't so lucky.

Oh how I hate myself for even having had that thought. For moments after, we heard the sound of glass breaking. Our eyes darted across the room, now staring at a man brushing glass pieces off his black cloak. You would recognise the emblem on his cloak anywhere.

The Black Raven guild.

Mercenaries.

Before my brain could process what had just occurred, the man rushed through the room, armed with a dagger. It was over in a split second.

I stood agape, watching the crimson flow.

My parents were dead.

Blood seeped through the carpet, under the floorboards. Time was at a standstill.

The man looked over at me.

"A scrawny brat, eh? Well you weren't in the request and I couldn't care less about a little shit like you."

And he was gone.

My tears wouldn't stop. For days and nights I sat there clutching the bodies of my parents, as the rain and thunder never stopped. The stench of decaying corpses is something you can never imagine. One whose face is filled with absolute fear and desperation. It was etched into my heart.

And so, after a long time spent crying, trying to fix the wounds, venturing out into the storm to ask for help only to return dejected, I swore. I swore to myself that I would make that man regret being born for taking away my happiness.

It's been 21 years. 21 years of hunting for this man whose face I didn't know. 21 years of traveling around the country, spending days at inns, flocking bars, approaching information guilds, anything and everything. And I finally found him.

I found out everything about him.

57 years old. Muscular. Tanned. Shaved head. A thick beard. Lived in a little village on the outskirts of the country. He would protect the villagers from bandits. He was quite loved by the community.

But I know who he truly is. Beneath all that facade of a good man and the protector of women and children, he is someone who would kill people for money.

It didn't take me long to find him. And boy oh boy, it was infuriating.

He was a changed man. He didn't talk like the way he did that night, in a rugged tone, without an ounce of humanity. He had a slow speech and spoke as though he was an enlightened monk.

How. Funny.

He didn't recognise me at first. It was only when i mentioned who my parents were, that he looked at me with a forlorn gaze and sighed.

Was this asshole pitying me? This person, who wasn't worth being called human, was showing sympathy?

I remember what he said, word for word.

" All those years ago, I was someone who only lived for money because I had to take care of myself and my family. My sisters were about to be sold off if I hadn't paid off my father's gambling debts. I didn't have much choice. I don't do that anymore. I've found my place with these people here. I take care of bandits for them, they feed me and my family in return. It's quite a peaceful transaction." He said gazing wistfully towards the village.

Not a single apology.

And was that story supposed to make me feel empathetic for him? Where was his empathy when he mercilessly murdered my parents in front of a 9 year old?

Did he expect me to droop my shoulders, cry and hug him?

He deserved to die and I would give him that.

I raided his home late that night. It was dark and stormy, quite fitting really. I broke the window and jumped in. He wasn't ready and it wasn't much of a fight for me, he was old and slow, barely able to dodge my attacks. It was soon over. I stood over him, as blood splurted out of his neck, staining the wooden floorboards with a rich crimson hue. I sat there, laughing, relishing my victory, when I heard little whimpers from close by.

It didn't matter anyway. I had fulfilled what I had sworn all those years ago. I was finally at peace.

No matter how much of my humanity it took from me.

I was finally at peace.

When you were a child, a mercenary made you watch as he killed your entire family in front of you. You swore revenge. Decades later, you've finally tracked them down- …only to find they're now a pacifistic geriatric who's beloved by his community.

[doumadono]

(EMERGENCY Request (because I don’t know if the other came through or if Tumblr ate my ask.)

Can I have some Izuku, Shouta, and Shigaraki comforting reader after she revealed that she had been sexually assaulted by a close family friend?..

(Because the above happened to me, and now the idea of being intimate with someone makes me cry and freak out and feel ill.)

EMERGENCY REQS MASTERLIST - PART 2

Tomura Shigaraki

Shigaraki listens with a chilling stillness as you speak, his entire demeanor darkening with each word. His expression goes from steely focus to pure fury, hands clenching tight enough to make his knuckles whiten as you recount what happened.

He doesn’t try to comfort you right away; instead, his eyes narrow, filled with an intense, dark energy that you’ve rarely seen before. He lets you finish, then speaks in a low, almost dangerous tone: “Tell me who did it.” There’s no doubt in his voice, only absolute conviction.

Shigaraki doesn’t ask twice. He wants a name, wants to know every detail, not to wallow in your pain but to turn it into a target — one he intends to take down personally.

Once you’ve shared what you’re comfortable with, he reassures you in his own way, his voice softening, though his gaze remains fierce. “They’ll pay for this. No one does that to you. Not without consequence.”

Unlike most, Shigaraki doesn’t shy away from your pain. Instead, he encourages you to express every ounce of anger and bitterness, letting you know that you have every right to be furious, to feel however you need to feel. “Don’t hold back,” he says, his hand resting over yours, grounding but strong. “Let it out. Let it fuel you.”

His form of comfort is protective, almost ruthless. He speaks of revenge openly, as if it’s the only option worth considering. He’s fixated, promising you repeatedly, “I’ll make them feel everything they made you feel — and worse.”

When it comes to physical comfort, he’s careful. Shigaraki isn’t the most openly affectionate, but if you’re willing, he holds you close, his fingers grazing your shoulder, tracing light circles down your back. His presence is steadfast, a quiet strength, and the promise is clear: he’ll keep you safe, no matter the cost.

Once he has the name of the person who hurt you, he doesn’t rest. He goes out alone, no second thoughts or hesitation, tracking the perpetrator down with a dark resolve, finding them under cover of night.

It’s quick and merciless. He locates them, doesn’t give them a chance to speak or even see what’s coming. In a single, decisive movement, his fingers make contact, and within seconds, they’re reduced to nothing but ashes. A quiet, terrible satisfaction settles in his chest — he’s done what needed to be done. Justice, his own way.

That night, Shigaraki returned to the base of the League of Villains very late, and there was a shift in his energy that you felt the moment he walked into the room. His gaze was dark, almost unreadable, yet there was an eerie calm in the way he settled beside you. His fingers, usually fidgeting with nervous energy, were still, resting against his knee as if he’d finally found his focus, his purpose. He looked at you, eyes intense, and for a long moment, he didn’t say anything.

Finally, he leaned in, his voice low, barely above a whisper. “It’s done,” he said, his hand resting on yours, his touch grounding. “They’re gone. They’ll never hurt you again.”

You could see the satisfaction in his expression, the way his eyes glinted with a dark triumph as he watched you, waiting for your reaction. He didn’t need thanks, didn’t expect it; he’d done this for you, because no one else had. Because he would destroy anything that dared to harm you. "Tomura...."

Tomura’s fingers traced over your knuckles, his gaze unwavering. “Shhh, it's okay. You’re safe now,” he murmured, his voice a low growl, fierce and possessive. “And anyone who thinks of hurting you… well, they’ll end up the same.”

Shota Aizawa

Shota doesn’t say much initially, allowing silence to settle around you both so you don’t feel rushed to fill it. His presence is steady and dependable, and he radiates a calm, quiet strength.

His eyes are intense, focused on you in that careful, unblinking way he has when he’s deeply engaged. There’s no judgment, no pity - just a readiness to listen and understand.

Shota waits until you’re finished speaking, then offers a grounding observation: “You’re strong to have carried this alone. You didn’t deserve any of it, and it was never your fault.”

He lets you know that you have the right to feel whatever you need - anger, grief, even numbness. Shota doesn’t try to solve your pain; he respects that healing is complex and that he’s there to support, not fix.

Touch, he knows, is delicate. If he senses you’re uncomfortable with it, he respects that boundary completely. But he does offer simple gestures - a hand on your shoulder, a gentle brush of your hair - giving you the choice to lean into his warmth or keep your distance.

Aizawa is a man of action, so he makes sure you feel safe around him. He talks about boundaries, offering reassurance that he’ll take things at your pace. He’s honest but tender, letting you know he’ll be patient, however long it takes. And on the nights when you finally drift into peaceful sleep beside him, he quietly searches for every piece of information about the person who hurt you. They may think they got away clean, but they’re dead wrong.

When the words finally spill out, they feel jagged, raw, tearing through the silence like an open wound.

Aizawa doesn’t flinch; he absorbs each word, each broken pause, with an intensity that’s almost unnerving. His gaze is steady, dark eyes fixed on you, taking in every detail, but he doesn’t speak right away. Instead, he stays close, his silence a constant, a reassurance that he isn’t going anywhere, no matter how long it takes for you to finish.

Once the last word leaves your lips, you glance up at him, half-expecting him to pull away, to offer you some hollow phrase that makes him feel better but leaves you feeling even emptier. But Shota stays, his expression unreadable except for the faint tightening around his eyes, the only sign that your pain has struck something deep within him. Slowly, he reaches out, his hand resting on your shoulder, his touch feather-light, as if he’s afraid you’ll break under too much pressure. “You didn’t deserve any of it,” he says finally, his voice so soft it’s almost a whisper. “This doesn’t define you. It’s something that happened to you, not something that’s a part of you.”

The silence stretches, but it’s a comfortable one, an invitation for you to say whatever you need, or to say nothing at all. He’s patient, letting you lean into him, his hand finding yours and holding it gently, giving you the control to pull away if it becomes too much.

When you finally let yourself press into his side, his arm wraps around you, steady, grounding. He doesn’t say much after that; he just sits with you, his hand slowly tracing soothing circles on your back. It’s a simple gesture, but it feels safe, like an anchor holding you steady in a sea of uncertainty. “Take all the time you need,” Shota murmurs, his voice low, his lips close to your ear. “If you want me to stay, I’ll stay. If you need space, I’ll give you that too. Just know that I’m here. For all of it.”

Izuku Midoriya

Izuku’s heart nearly breaks the moment you confide in him. He listens, fully attentive, and doesn’t interrupt - not even to ask questions. His eyes are soft but steady, and he nods as you talk, a subtle affirmation that he’s here with you, every painful step.

He doesn’t rush you to say more than you’re ready to. Izuku senses when you need a pause, his hand on yours, rubbing gentle circles on your knuckles to ground you.

He tells you, without hesitation, that it wasn’t your fault. Izuku’s voice is firm, sincere, as if he needs you to feel it in your bones. He keeps his words simple, gentle. “If it hurts to talk about this, we don’t have to. But I’m here, I’m here whenever you need me, no matter what.”

Izuku understands if physical touch feels overwhelming, so he asks permission before hugging you. “Can I… hold you? Only if you’re okay with it.”

He offers support rather than solutions, respecting that this healing is on your terms. He suggests getting some air together, or maybe some tea, but he doesn’t push anything. You can feel how deeply he cares without feeling pressured to act a certain way.

Izuku reassures you that whatever feelings come up - fear, sadness, anger - are okay, and he’s here for all of them. He promises he’ll protect you, but it’s not a hollow vow; it’s one he fully believes he can keep.

Izuku sits beside you, close but not encroaching. He waits, letting each word hang in the air as you reveal what happened, the details heavy between you, until finally, you fall silent. There’s a flicker of something in his eyes - anger, sadness - but it’s tempered by an overwhelming gentleness as he reaches for your hand, his touch featherlight.

“You didn’t deserve any of it,” he says, voice low but certain. “And it wasn’t your fault. No matter how it might feel.” His words sink in, the conviction in his voice wrapping around you, settling deep in the space where shame and doubt often linger. His gaze is steady, unwavering, as he adds, “This doesn’t change who you are, not to me. You’re still you, and nothing - no one - can take that away.”

You sob quietly.

There’s a pause, a heartbeat, and then he hesitates, eyes softening as he reaches hand out to wipe off your tear. “Can I hold you?” he asks gently, his hand still on yours, warm and ready but not pushing.

When you nod, he shifts, pulling you close into his chest, his arms wrapping around you in a way that feels protective, solid. The quiet thump of his heartbeat against your cheek is steady, grounding, and his fingers stroke your back in slow, soothing motions.

“You’re allowed to be hurt,” he murmurs into your hair, his voice thick with emotion, “and you’re allowed to take your time, however long you need. But you don’t have to go through this alone.” He holds you a little tighter, his breath warm against your forehead as he whispers, “I’m here, and I’ll be here, always."

[dolcekissy]

i'll always love you

: ̗̀➛ reader holds a secret with her boyfriend jj maybank. rafe, her ex, that picked on her and her pogue friends help them out of a tricky situation but as he helps the secret finally comes out leaving rafe hurt.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ masterlist

─────────────────────────

DO NOT READ IF YOU HAVE NOT WATCHED SEASON 4. DO NOT READ IF YOU HAVE NOT WATCHED SEASON 4, EPISODE 9.

✎ this story contains season 4 spoilers. i do not want to be the person to ruin season 4 for people at all because ruining/spoiling a show for someone genuinely PAINSSS me. so that being said, please...please do not read if you do not want obx spoilers. this is sort of long and i hope y'all enjoy! xoxo

─────────────────────────

THIS STORY CONTAINS OBX SEASON 4 SPOILERS. DO NOT READ IF YOU HAVE NOT WATCHED SEASON 4. READER IS REPLACING SARAH'S POV IN SEASON 4, EPISODE 9. JOHN B IS REPLACING JJ'S POV IN SEASON 4, EPISODE 9.

disclaimer // this story involves some angst, mentions of pregnancy, reader being pregnant with jj's baby, reader and john b almost die, reader and jj are together and rafe is her ex. sophia and rafe are not a couple in this story!

─────────────────────────

you're pregnant. pregnant with jj's baby. you found out not too long ago, the rest of the crew didn't know besides kiara and sarah. you didn't know exactly when to tell the rest of them ─ especially not in a situation like this, being stuck on a boat with rafe as you all tripped to africa ─ the situation quickly escalating into struggling to survive this nasty storm that hit you guys in the middle of the ocean.

what technically got you into this shitty situation on the boat was rafe, your ex boyfriend. he had randomly walked up on you and the pogues. you were stunned and shocked watching him walk up ─ your grip on jj's hand tightening, you were terrified he'd convince shoupe that he was right about all the accusations and convince him to lock all of you up.

but what you didn't expect from him was for him to save you guys, you didn't expect him to reason with shoupe ─ or for him to tell shoupe he'll finally admit what really happened on the tarmac if he let you guys go off and find groff.

you two left on bad terms when you broke up with him. he was a hot mess and you couldn't handle it. he never used to be as bad until something in him flipped, he used to love and care for you like no other when one day ─ it all changed. he abused and terrorized the pogues and you couldn't handle it anymore, you were a kook but you were also best friends with sarah ─ so you ultimately chose to be around her instead of him.

you started to hang around with them, going on their missions with them ─ doing everything with them. slowly but surely you found yourself falling in love with jj maybank and of course the feeling was reciprocated, he had always felt a certain type of way about you.

rafe lost his mind knowing you were with them ─ with him. at some point he started to care less about your safety and more about the fact you chose them over him. he was so fuckin angry with you, his preying on the pogues never stopped ─ if anything the more he saw you with them, with jj fuckin maybank, the worse he got.

he left you in dangerous situations, taunting and preying on you more than he did anyone else. you were terrified of him, you knew he killed sheriff peterkin, how he tried to kill sarah twice, all the shit he did you were there ─ and he scared the shit out of you. the way he threatened to kill jj every single time they were face to face scared you ─ leaving you to tear them apart as they beat the shit out of each other.

they hated each other, they always have obviously. but once you were in the picture, shit hit the fan. which led to jj's suspicions as rafe walked up and reasoned with shoupe, to everyone's suspicions really but especially yours and jay's.

rafe's eyes met yours briefly a few times, giving you a nod of acknowledgment and a look of guilt. your hands sliding up jj's arm made rafe's jaw clench but in the end he still saved your asses. you kept your hand locked with jay's and eyed the back of rafe's figure as you all walked to his boat, not knowing what was about to go down in a couple hours.

they ended up tying rafe's hands together and shoved him into a small room, you overheard sarah telling him they couldn't trust him and they'd let him out as soon as you guys arrived. you almost felt bad as you heard him yell and kick things in anger and desperation, but after what he's done to everyone, done to you. you couldn't even find a fuck to give.

but then everything went to shit.

─────────────────────────

a strong storm hit you guys, the waves crashed together with so much anger ─ leaving the boat filling with water and the boat violently shaking and moving with the waves. kiara contemplated leaving rafe but ended up cutting the rope and helping him out of the small room.

you stood on the deck, watching the water clash ─ the waves soaking you and everything on the boat. you let out a scream as a huge wave toppled over the boat and led you to slide off and into the water. jj cried out your name as john b ran to the edge of the boat with a life ring.

everything flashed before jj's eyes as he watched john b dive into the water, hugging kiara as tears fell from his eyes when you both completely disappeared under the water. he looked back to see rafe standing at the doorway, his clothes soaking wet as he stared out into the water with frantic eyes ─ screaming your name desperately.

he didn't feel anything, not towards rafe exactly. he wasn't worried about the fact rafe was worried about you, even after what he put you through. jj was worried about you. you and his baby.

─────────────────────────

they all ended up on land, building a small fire without a word. they all sat quietly as jj looked for you guys for hours, thinking about the possibility of you two being dead.

sarah sat with kie, tears threatening to fall from her eyes as she thought about the two of you. cleo and pope sat together, silently praying you two would eventually wash up on shore but as time passed they started to doubt. rafe sat by himself, staring at the fire as he thought about you. he could care less about john b, he wanted you to come back. he wanted you to miraculously appear in front of him like nothing happened.

nobody slept really, sarah and kie stared up into the sky. pope and cleo slept on and off until they eventually decided to just sit up, staring into the dwindling fire. jj sat close to pope as he kept his eyes closed, his arms resting against his knees as tears fell from his bloodshot eyes. rafe sat far away from everyone as he stared at the water, waiting for you and john b to appear.

hours passed and the sun kissed the water as it began to rise. some time passed as everyone sat silently, some staring off into nothing and others busying their hands in the sand. kiara stood up abruptly, her eyes squinting as she looked ─ her eyes frantically searching for the two of you before she slowly sat back down once she realized whatever she saw wasn't you two.

"they're gonna turn up." pope said as he picked at the fire with a stick. jj's eyes met popes briefly before pope looked back down at the fire, "they'll turn up." jj looked down at the fire, running a hand through his hair, his eyes sad as he stayed silent before he stopped ─ seeing two people walking side by side.

popes eyes followed his gaze as everyone stood up. rafe followed suit and put his hands over his eyes as his brain scrambled with different thoughts and feelings. jj glanced at pope before turning his attention back to the two figures walking by the water, "i'll go." jj wasted no time as he scurried down to you, his heart stopping when he could really see that it was you and john b.

everyone watched as you stopped in your tracks and began running to him, tears falling from your eyes as you jumped into his arms ─ kissing him passionately as tears fell to your conjoined lips, the salty taste of your tears meeting your tastebuds with welcome arms.

"i've got you, i've got you, i've got you. my sweet girl, i've got you." he chanted against your lips almost in a way to soothe himself, the thought of this just being a part of his imagination slowly eating away at his thoughts.

you killed those thoughts the minute you pulled away, your small hands cupping his face as your eyes met his. "jayj, hi. hi, hi." you whispered over and over again, your forehead pressing against his. "you're alive." he said breathlessly, "you're alive."

you nodded with a smile, staring into his eyes while you both panted softly. "how?" you kept your eyes on his, you thumbs running over his cheeks softly. "i was drowning," you gasped out, "john b saved my life." you looked down at your belly and rubbed it gently, your eyes meeting his again. "he saved our lives."

he kissed you passionately before his attention turned to john b walking up, "look man, i was just the closest one, alright? that's it." john b said with a soft smile. jj stomped over to him and brought him into a hug, a tight hug ─ a brother thanking his brother for everything type of hug.

"brothers for fuckin life." jj said firmly. the feeling of seeing you and john b safe and sound hit him hard.

john b is okay, you're okay, his baby is okay.

─────────────────────────

you all sat together by the fire, sarah and john b cuddled together, pope and cleo sat together, and kie and rafe sitting on opposite sides of each other. your head rested against the front of jay's chest, your fingers interlocked with his as you all laughed and smiled about stupid shit.

"you know what's a good name for a baby?" john b started, his hand gesturing to jj. "jj, goes both ways actually ─ if it's a girl, if its a boy." everyone smiled and soft laughs left their lips, "what baby?" pope asked.

you squeezed jj's hand tighter with a smile realizing he must have told john b on the boat, "oh right, you guys don't know." your head lifted to look up at jj with a wide grin on your face, he returned the smile before looking around at everyone silently.

"no way...a poguelet?" cleo asked, her eyes big and a wide smile plastered on her face. you nodded with a giggle. pope pointed at you, his face dropping slightly. "you? you're gonna be a freakin dad!" pope jumped up and embraced jj in the tightest hug, "i'm gonna ─ m'gonna be a freakin dad!" jj yelled out happily.

you smiled as pope and jj dropped to the ground, cleo scurrying over to you and cooing at your belly. your eyes met rafe's as he twisted his neck to look back at you, the smile on your face never left as you stared at him. his eyes lingered on you for a moment before he nodded, the corner of his lips tugging up into a soft smile.

he looked away from you, his eyes blinking rapidly as he looked back at the water. thoughts of seeing you with a swollen belly filled his mind ─ the thought of you walking around with a tiny baby that looks just like you had him seeing little white dots around him. thoughts of you breastfeeding a sweet baby girl or baby boy that wasn't his had him standing up and walking off.

he wished he did better, he wished he didn't get addicted to coke, addicted to alcohol. he's never really realized how much he fucked up until now. you watched his slender frame walk across where the water and the sand meet, his arms folded over his chest as he stared down at his feet.

you looked over at jj talking happily with the rest of the crew and bit your lip. you honestly didn't care if rafe was hurt, but now that you're pregnant ─ there should be absolutely no bad blood between you two or anyone else. no more of rafe taunting you and your friends, no more of the kooks bullying you guys.

you made your way over to him, your eyes trained to your feet as your hands clasped awkwardly behind your back. he looked up the minute he saw you walking over to him, he cleared his throat and immediately looked away and stared into the water ─ wiping his wet eyes off with the backs of his hands.

"hey." you said softly, you treaded carefully as you approached him. he nodded his head, his gaze falling to his feet as he clasped his hands behind his back as well. "hey." he replied back, just as soft. you stood a few feet away from him, your eyes flickering between him, your feet, and the water ─ not knowing where you should even be looking right now.

you two stayed silent for a few moments, his small sniffles and the sound of the water were the only things that filled your ears. "are you okay?" you asked, finally breaking the silence in a quiet voice. he nodded, keeping his gaze on his feet as the water splashed against them. "you okay?" he asked, his voice just as quiet.

you nodded your head, whispering a soft yes before silence consumed you two again. he looked up and at the water before his red eyes met yours, your brows twitching at the sight of his glossy eyes and red nose. "thought you were dead." he whispered. you nodded and looked away from him, your soft locks blowing in the night breeze.

he bit the inside of his cheek as he stared at you. his eyes trailed over your figure and landed directly on your stomach, he bit back a sob as he imagined what you'll look like in just a few months. everything suddenly hit him like a truck. the way he used to be so sweet to you, the way he turned on you for no reason, the way you chose the pogues, the way you were left in dangerous situations because of them and because of him. everything, every little memory filled his mind as he stared at your stomach.

"you're pregnant." he choked out, trying to keep himself together. he meant to ask but his words came out as more of a statement, he was almost saying those words to confirm to himself that you are pregnant with another man's baby ─ to confirm he fucked up.

the second you nodded his eyes left your stomach and he turned his eyes back to the water. he felt like such a failure, an asshole, a fuck up. he never thought about how you actually moved on from him, he was so stuck on the fact you were around those pogues. he knew you were with jj, hell all the fights they had gotten into, all the glares they shot at each other but it never really hit him until now. he was so stuck on all the terrorizing and all the fights he started ─ he didn't even stop to think about how you two are genuinely a couple.

"why?" his eyes shot up to yours, searching your face. is he asking you why you're pregnant? your brows furrowed in confusion, "u-uh i...i don't know, r-rafe. it wasn't supposed to happen." you said awkwardly. he stepped closer to you, his eyes flickering between yours and your stomach. "should be mine." he muttered, his eyes trained to your stomach. you placed your hand over your belly subconsciously, protecting it like his words would change who's baby it is in some weird way.

"yours? rafe...you've done so much." you whispered, tears springing at your eyes. "you hurt me, hurt jayj, hurt the rest of them." you reminded him, reminding him why this isn't his baby ─ why you aren't with him. "i'm sorry ─ fuck! i'm sorry!"you flinched at his outburst, your hand pressing harder against your belly as you took a step back.

he noticed your flinching and took a deep breath, closing his eyes as tears filled his lash line. you stared at him as a couple tears slid down his pale cheeks, he looked so hurt and so sad but you couldn't find it in you to want to comfort him. you obviously aren't pregnant in spite of him, you're pregnant because you met someone better and fell in love and mistakes happen. there was no reason to explain yourself or make him feel any better. if he wanted to change, he would have a long time ago.

"i just ─ im so sorry for everything. i- m'sorry for hurting you, m'sorry for hurting you and y-your...your friends. i'm sorry okay? i'm so fucking stupid." you sighed as he spoke, his voice vulnerable and shaky. you nodded your head and looked down at your feet. "i... i loved you and i fucked up 'nd its─ man it's hittin now. you're fuckin...fucking pregnant. you almost died for fuck sake." he whispered the last part to himself as you bit your lip and closed your eyes.

you knew rafe loved you at some point, he always would he's just was and is a fucked up person. you loved him too, you loved everything about him. he was your first everything, first kiss, first love, first time. he was everything to you at some point in your lives ─ but that was over now, it's been over the second you left him.

"i loved you too, rafe. and i-im glad you're aware of what you've done b-but everything is different now...no apology can change anything." he nodded and wiped his eyes and nose on his arm, just for more tears to fall. you watched him for a moment before speaking, "i-i just want no bad blood between us anymore, between anyone. this kook and pogue bullshit is so stupid and unnecessary. j-just want us to be cool." you said, your voice wavering slightly.

rafe nodded, his eyes never meeting yours. his eyes flickered from the sand between his toes and to your stomach as he scratched at his jaw. "u-uh yeah, i understand. yeah, absolutely. we're cool, we're good." he rambled. he looked up at you with hurt eyes, your eyes meeting his as you studied his face. you let out a breath you didn't know you were holding and nodded, your lips curled into a soft smile as you nodded again. you turned on your heel and began walking away.

"i'll always love you. i'm so sorry for everything, and i...i wish you the best with uh...wish you the best with everything." he said quietly, his hand lifting to gesture to your stomach even though you couldn't see him. "i love you." he whispered quietly. you turned your head back around to look at him, you blinked at him before nodding your head. you bit the inside of your cheek while you stared at him for a moment ─ thoughts and memories filling your head too.

but you didn't say anything, you turned your head back around ─ putting the past behind you. the past you had with him ─ the good memories of your relationship, the bad memories, the times he taunted you and bullied you and your friends. you put it all behind you, your shoulders felt lighter and you felt at peace. you closed your eyes as you stood there for a moment before you looked back at rafe, giving him one last smile and nod before you began walking back to your friends, your family. the father of your baby.

the people that saved you.

he watched you walk, tears brimming his eyes as he looked back at the water and sat down. he felt hurt but he also felt a tinge of happiness, you're happier ─ you've moved on. he knows your friends are what's best for you, jj is what's best for you.

but now it's time for rafe to move on, to be happier. time for him to find what's best for him.

─────────────────────────

i'm genuinely so upset with the fact jj died :( if i'm being honest the show doesn't even feel like obx anymore. sarah's pregnant, jj found out about his real parents then died ??????? i'm suing wtf

[a-stitch-in-time-and-space]

"Dad," Jake begins, shuffling a bit from foot to foot.

Uh-no, he thinks. He can pinpoint how worried Jake is by the mixture of movement, tone of his voice, and inability to look him in the eye. Did someone die?!

"Yes Jake," he says, giving him his full attention -- earnest and soft.

"Dad, I... have something to tell you... um... and you can't get mad about it or weird about it. And you can't interrupt until I've finished telling you, okay?"

"Sure."

Another second. Two. "Dad I've been dating-"

"But that's great news Jake," he says, relief no-doubt visible on every inch of his face. "Why would I be anything but happy for you?"

"Dad!" Jake interrupts. "I'm dating Nog. And have been for awhile..."

That makes him pause for a second. Okay, Nog. Makes sense. They've been inseparable since Jake first arrived on the station.

"Why didn't you tell me before? I might have opinions about his uncle on occasion, but that's nothing to do with him. He's a fine Officer, bright, loyal, brave-" as he speaks he warms to the whole thing more and more. A few years ago he might have had his doubts, but... and sure, he'll invite Rom and Leeta around, which means having to invite Quark around, but it's a small price to pay. Overall a good family, good people, and some people who grow on you if you're on a space station with them for years on end.

Jake clears his throat. "I also... am dating... Ziyal."

He stops dead in his tracks.

"Tora Ziyal?"

Jake nods. "Do we know another Ziyal?"

"Dukat's daughter?"

Jake frowns. "Dad, I said you couldn't do anything until I was finished."

Ben's own frown mirrors his son's, but he breaks it to hold up his hands. "Alright, alright. You're dating Nog and Ziyal. I'm sure Commander Kira will be happy about it."

Yeah. Yeah, okay. Dukat's daughter, but hasn't he long abdicated the right to come calling for in-law heart to hearts? Ben certainly won't be busting out the real peppers for him if he ever does mysteriously find out, but Kira has been Ziyal's default parent for awhile now and is naturally always welcome - and Ziyal herself is an up-and-coming artist, lots of groundbreaking work being platformed on Bajoran-Cardassian identity, explains why Jake's been writing so much on the subject for awhile now. Kira has every right to be proud, and even though the Dukat thing niggles in the back of Ben's mind, he's sure he can put it aside for hers and Jake's sake.

Ah, and Elim Garak would have to be invited too, come to think about it... he'll have to think about that one, but at least it'll make for an interesting dinner at this point.

"And Ezri."

"What about Dax?" Ben asks, jolted out of meal-and-seating-planning (well obviously Kira and Quark can't be seated next to each other and he doesn't trust Garak next to Rom, and he thinks Leeta and Ziyal might get on well)--

"I'm also dating Ezri. Well, it's early days, we're still... but I asked if I could tell you and she said yes, but she didn't want to be here when I did. I think Dax- uh, Worm-Dax that is, isn't sure how you'll feel about it, because you've known each other for a long time. But. Ezri's her own woman, you know."

He says the last part very seriously, like he's expecting disapproval, but Ben's not halfway through processing the first part, when the second part belatedly careens into him... "Dax?" he says, a little strangled.

Jake shrugs. "Ezri said if you could keep Jadzia and Curzon out of it, that would be great." A pause. "Especially Curzon. I know there's some memories or... but. I mean, if Dax accepts it then everyone should!"

He bites his lip a little, like he used to when he was much younger and was worried he'd gone too far with something or other.

"Dax..." Ben says faintly. And under his breath: "oh the trill-commission are going to love this..."

"We haven't broken any laws," Jake says, defiantly.

Ben puts a comforting hand on his shoulder. "A four-person interspecies romance? Oh, I'm sure you are."

Then pulls him into a hug, and adds: "the variation on cuisine and custom within a single meal will be an interesting experience for us all though. I think I know how I can make it work..."

Jake laughs, relieved, and hugs him back as he continues to talk.

*

*The big problems don't start until the wedding planning several years later... meal prep really is the least of it.

Jake and Ziyal: softTM, bond over shared sad-mother stories, being young civilians during wartime, art, both of them are connected to Bajor - bonus points that dukat and sisko would be in-laws

Jake and Nog: friends to married, ultimate tol and smol, worried Jake when Nog’s away, long-distant relationship, they already know they can live together - bonus points quark and sisko would be in-laws

Jake and Ezri: their brief interactions were Good Chemistry, he’d help her find her bearings as Ezri, so supportive, they’ve both come off age pretty similarly, soft beans, bonus points sisko and the worm would be confused as heck 

[getoslamb]

a/n: slow intro with a fair bit of dialogue & little plot twist at the end? + if you don't like gunplay, i promise this is not the one for you, don't read it wc: 5.7k

the rest of kinktober here + (toji art credit) + special tag @risararelywrites <3

As the night crept on, the thrill of the scare park hung thick in the air, punctuated by bursts of laughter and muffled shrieks from other visitors. You walked arm-in-arm with Shoko, Suguru, and Satoru, revelling in the pulse of adrenaline that shot through you whenever an actor lunged from the darkness. Together, you’d gone through nearly every haunted house in the park, each one more elaborate than the last. 

But now, as you drifted toward the edge of the grounds, the lively sounds began to fade, swallowed up by the sight of a lone haunted house standing apart from the others—a grim silhouette shrouded in eerie, rolling fog.

This house looked different. It was darker, older, with an unsettling aura that seemed to thicken the air around it. Unlike the other exhibits, there were no bright lights, no cheering guides or costumed actors welcoming you in, just an open doorway that hinted at cracked wood, grimy windows, and shadows that seemed to hang around and watch.

"Why isn’t anyone going in?" you murmured, stopping to stare at the building. "Did they close it for the night?"

Shoko glanced at Suguru, exchanging a look that sent a tiny ripple of unease through you. “No, it’s open. Just not exactly popular,” she replied, her voice low.

“Not popular?” You smirked, letting the hint of a challenge seep in. “Is it really that bad?”

“Depends who you ask,” Satoru replied, his usual playful tone missing as he stared at the house. “People don’t go in alone.”

“It’s a scare park.” You scoffed, waving off his warning. “How scary could it actually be?”

Suguru placed a hand on your shoulder, a rare seriousness in his eyes. “This one’s different. People say there’s something… wrong with it. Nobody wants to find out for sure.”

“Wrong?” you echoed, crossing your arms. “How, exactly?”

“Some say there’s a man who hides in there,” Shoko murmured, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “They don’t know if he’s some rogue actor or just… some crazy man. But he’s armed. Supposedly, he sneaks around pretending to be part of the act.”

You looked at the house again, half-amused, half-spooked. “So you’re telling me there’s a real psycho in there hiding out? Right.”

Your friends exchanged wary glances, their usual bravado notably absent, which only deepened your curiosity. “You’re serious? This is over some urban legend?”

“It’s not a legend,” Shoko muttered, glancing over her shoulder as if expecting to see someone creeping out of the fog. “People say they’ve seen him covered in blood. They say he blends right in until it’s too late.”

“Staff avoid it too,” Satoru added, his tone unusually flat. “So if you’re thinking about going in, maybe reconsider.”

A thrill shot through you, half defiance, half intrigue. The house loomed ahead, daring you. “So you all think he’s in there tonight?”

Suguru’s hand tightened on your shoulder. “It’s not worth finding out. There are plenty of other places we can check out.”

But the challenge tugged at you, almost tauntingly. You took a step forward, drawing exasperated sighs from your friends.

"Are you actually going in there?"

"This is a hard no for me," Shoko insisted.

“Come on, we’re not kidding around,” Suguru said, his expression sombre.

You gave them a shrug and a smile. “I’ll just peek in, five minutes, that’s all.”

Shoko crossed her arms, rolling her eyes. “Right, nothing bad ever happens in ‘just five minutes.’”

“Remember, if he’s in there, we’re not coming to save you.” Satoru jokes as he rolls his eyes.

"Noted," you replied, dancing around him with a grin. "If anything happens, at least I'll have a story."

But as you moved toward the darkened doorway, the memories of the warnings hounded you, and crossing the threshold, a small voice whispered, maybe they're right.

Inside, the shadows clung to the walls, warping and shifting with every flicker of the dim yellowing light bulbs. The air was heavy, still, as though the house itself was holding its breath, waiting. With each cautious step, the floor remained eerily silent-no familiar creaks, no whispers from other thrill-seekers echoing from somewhere in the darkness. The quiet was suffocating.

"It's just another haunted house," you whispered, trying to break the silence. But even your voice seemed to be swallowed up by the shadows.

You reached the edge of a dusty, darkened room when a soft dragging sound cut through the quiet. You whirled around, your heart hammering, but the hallway behind you was empty. The moment you began to steady your breath, a low rumbling chuckle echoed through the room, crawling down your spine.

"Didn't think anyone would wander in alone," a voice drawled from the shadows, smooth and dripping with dark amusement. "You've got guts.”

Your breath caught as a figure began to take form: a tall, wide man whose eyes glinted in the poor light. He moved like a shadow off the wall, a smirk curling at the edges of his lips as he took another step forward, the faint glow illuminating a pistol in his hand, his finger lazily resting near the trigger.

You swallowed hard and forced a grin, hoping to mask your unease. "Are… are you part of the show?"

He chuckled, his eyes raking over you with dangerous curiosity. "I'm part of an experience," he told you, that taunting smile twisting. "But not the kind you paid for.”

Your heart was racing as he closed in; his eyes were razor-sharp and predatory. He didn't hurry-if anything, he drew out the fear across your features. The pistol glinted in his hand, but his gaze stayed fixed on you, like he was reading every flicker of emotion.

He moved forward with a nearly lazy step; his head fell to the side as his smile grew, watching you inch backward. "So, you thought this was just another haunted house?" he asked, the tiniest thread of dark thrill weaved in. "Guess it's too late to warn you some rumours are worth listening to.

Your back hit the wall, and his eyes lit up with a spark of satisfaction. He leaned in closer, pressing the gun against his temple as he did so, an intense gaze and a chilling gleam in his eye. "You've got that look-the one which says you're curious. Brave, maybe a little too much so." He paused, smirk deepening. "So, how brave are you feeling now?”

You clenched your jaw and wouldn't flinch. "Maybe I am not as easy to scare as you think," you muttered, though your own voice quivered ever so slightly. "Oh?" His smirk whittled just a little sharper, a flash of mirth dancing in his eyes. "Then let us see.”

He let go of your wrist, only to trail the gun’s barrel along your jawline, his eyes drinking in every flinch, every shiver. He seemed to delight in drawing out the silence, each second weighted with his slow, deliberate movements. And in that quiet, somehow, the unspoken threat felt far more sinister.

As he studied you, his gaze lingered, savouring the fear that glinted in your eyes. “I have all night to see what it takes to break you,” he murmured, his voice almost playful. “And something tells me, this is going to be fun.”

The glint in his eyes held a dark promise, and you knew, too late, that you’d wandered into a trap—the kind that left you wondering just who, exactly, was meant to be scared.

You swallowed, struggling to hold his gaze, fighting the instinct to look away. But he had you cornered, and he knew it—knew you were trapped in his snare, just like he’d intended. The glint in his eye sharpened as he watched, a spark of twisted satisfaction lighting up his face as he took in every flicker of fear.

The man’s grin stretched wider, dark and mocking, as he watched you. With a slow, deliberate motion, he lowered the gun, tracing the cold barrel down your jawline, his eyes studying every inch of your face with a predatory intensity. The silence between you pressed in, suffocating and tense, somehow worse than any threat he could have made.

“You’re trembling now,” he whispered, voice dipped in dark humour. “But it makes me wonder…” He tilted his head, a false look of innocence softening his gaze even as his smirk stayed razor-sharp. “Is it fear making you shake? Or is it something… else?”

Your breath caught, a barely perceptible hitch that he didn’t miss. His smirk grew, as though he’d stumbled on a private joke, something only he was in on. “Oh, don’t tell me you’re the kind who gets a thrill out of all this?” he mocked, his voice a conspiratorial whisper, as if he were sharing a secret with you. “The type who’d never admit it, but… can’t help the way their heart races anyway.”

You tried to look away, but he wouldn’t let you off so easily. With a nudge from the gun, he forced your chin up, his gaze locking with yours. “I see you,” he continued, inching closer, his warm breath fanning across your skin. “People like you walk in here alone, pretending it’s just for the thrill.” He leaned in, his voice lowering to a near murmur against your ear. “But maybe you wanted more.”

His words sent a shiver through you, mingling fear with something you didn’t want to acknowledge. He leaned back, watching your reaction, fingers brushing the side of your face in a touch that was disturbingly gentle. “Maybe that’s why you’re here,” he said, a rough laugh slipping from his lips. “I doubt someone like you would admit it, though.”

Your mind raced, and your voice caught in your throat, a knot of indignation and fear keeping you silent. He noticed, smirking like he’d already won. “Right on the mark, aren’t I?” he murmured, his hand resting on your cheek. “It’s always the innocent ones—scare the easiest, break the fastest.”

Your heart pounded, and though you willed yourself to pull away, your body seemed frozen under his touch. He held your gaze, thumb brushing softly over your cheek. “Just say it,” he teased, leaning close again. His thumb pressed lightly against your throat, tracing the beat of your pulse. “You didn’t come in here just for the scare, did you?”

The mocking smile he wore softened slightly, his voice lowering to a nearly intimate whisper. “I can feel it—the way you’re responding. The thrill, the nerves, the part of you that’s not sure if you want to run… or stay.”

You hated the way he seemed to read you, hated that he saw through the mask you wore to the part of you he’d awakened, a part tinged with something reckless and dangerous. He bent down further, enjoying how he had you at his mercy. "That's it, isn't it?" he mumbled, "It's a game-this line between predator and prey." His voice dropped to a purr. “Between fear… and whatever this is.”

You tried to steady your breath as he studied every flicker of emotion that crossed your face. He brushed a stray strand of hair behind your ear, the touch feather-light but charged, like he knew exactly what he was doing.

“How much would you actually enjoy being pushed?” he wondered aloud, eyes glinting. “Maybe you’d even beg for it. Maybe you’d even like not having control.”

A thrill of panic mingled with something darker, something that made your heart beat faster. He could see it, knew the effect he was having, and the satisfaction on his face only grew. “Just admit it,” he murmured, his tone insistent, his thumb grazing your jawline. “Admit how much you’re enjoying this.”

His fingertips lingered on your hip, a reassuring touch that was highly unsettling, as if he were daring you to let those words pass your lips out loud. "Come on," he seduced, the devilish glint dancing in his eyes. "I promise I won't bite… unless you're asking.

His hand slid around to the small of your back, pulling you against him. The heat of his body reminded you just how close he was, how easily he could overpower you if he wanted. His voice dropped to a near-growl. “Last chance to back out.” His lips ghosted over your earlobe. “Tell me to stop, and I will. But if you don’t…”

His grip tightened, teeth grazing your ear, and then he pulled back, his gaze sharp as he slipped the gun into his waistband. His eyes were fixed upon yours with such intensity and something so akin to hunger; it sent the shiver down your spine. "So," he breathed, his voice low, with just a hint of challenge. "Ready to play?

Your heartbeat pounded against your rib cage, each thud a resonating drum in the silence between you. His words, his touch, the heat radiating off his body, it threatened to overwhelm you, drowning out every rational thought. You knew you should tell him to stop, should put space between you, but something kept you frozen there, curiosity mixing with the thrill of the unknown.

"I… I don't.", you stuttered, all but a whisper, while shallow breaths betrayed you, even in protest.

He raised an eyebrow, his smirk edging toward a full grin. “You don’t what?” he asked, eyes gleaming. “Don’t want me to stop… or don’t know if you should?”

Closer still, he leaned in until his nose brushed against yours, his gaze burrowing into yours with an intensity that made your knees feel weak. “I think you want this more than you’ll admit,” he murmured. His hand slid up your back, fingers tangling in your hair to tilt your head, exposing your neck. “Just say the word,” he whispered, his lips hovering over yours. “I’ll give you everything you’ve been too afraid to ask for.”

He caught your bottom lip between his teeth, a playful nip that he soothed with his tongue, his voice softening to a near-coax. “Come on, sweetheart,” he breathed, every word a slow, dangerous promise. “Let yourself stop fighting it.”

"Okay," you whispered, just barely audible, the last shred of resistance dissolving as his lips claimed yours-hard and demanding. The kiss bruised with its possessiveness-he took your mouth with such hunger that robbed your breath, his tongue delving deep inside to consume you. His hand tangles in the strands of your hair, keeping you firmly in place, the other roaming along your body, mapping out every curve.

But the next instant, he pushed you away, and you tumbled backward, falling against a stack of old props that tumbled with you, a flicker of fear crossing your features. He saw it.

"What's wrong, sweetheart?" he mocked, stalking toward you on lean legs with a predator's ease. "Scared off so soon?"

His eyes shone with a feral light, a cruel smirk playing about his lips. "I thought you wanted to play."

He leaned over you, grasping at your chin roughly to force you to look up at him. "Maybe you're not as brave as you thought," he sneered. "Or maybe", the tone darker, "you just need a little more incentive."

His hand had gone to his waistband, drawing out his gun. He pressed the cold metal against your lips, his eyes boring into yours with an intensity that chilled you to the bone.

"Open up, sweetheart," he ordered in his voice, a thick coating of mockery. "Let's see if you're as good with that mouth as I think you are." A hand twisted in your hair yanking your head back to bare the line of your neck. "Or maybe," he mused, "I should just shut you up completely."

He traced the gun along your jaw, down your throat, stopping at the hollow at the bottom of your neck. His eyes never once strayed from yours as he watched for the effects, feeding off your growing fear. "What's it gonna be, baby? Want to play nice, or should I get rough with you?"

He leaned closer, his eyes glinting with sadistic glee as he savoured the tension. "Tick tock," he murmured, his voice a low, menacing growl. "Time's running out, and my patience is wearing thin. Choose wisely, baby—it might just save your life."

A wicked grin spread across his face as he saw you open your mouth, lips parting just enough for the barrel of the gun to slide between them, the cold metal pressing against your tongue. "That’s it," he purred. "Good girl."

He pushed the gun deeper, savouring the sight of you as the taste of metal filled your mouth. "Suck," he commanded, his voice thick with lust as he watched you obey, your lips stretched around the barrel, tongue swirling over the smooth surface. His hand in your hair tightened, and he let out a low, satisfied groan.

"Fuck, that’s hot," he breathed, his hips pressing forward as he ground against you. "You’re a natural at this, aren’t you? I bet you'd look even better with your lips wrapped around something else."

He watched with rapt attention as you continued, cheeks hollowing, mouth working the gun with an obedient rhythm. His gaze darkened as he took in the sight of you, debasing yourself at his command.

Finally, he withdrew the gun, a string of saliva briefly connecting it to your lips. "Kiss it," he growled, voice low and commanding. "Show me how much you want it."

You pressed your lips against the barrel, kissing it softly, your eyes flickering up to meet his gaze, exactly as he demanded. Seeing you so submissive, so compliant, sent a rush of satisfaction through him.

"Atta girl," he murmured approvingly, his voice a soft purr of pleasure.

He pulled the gun away, resting it on the side as he freed his cock from his pants, stroking it slowly, teasingly, as you knelt before him. He smirked down at you, his eyes glinting with dark promise. "Put that pretty mouth to work, baby. Show me what you can do."

He grabbed a fistful of your hair, guiding your head towards his cock, the musky scent of him filling your nostrils. His other hand gripped the base of his shaft, slapping the head against your lips, leaving a smear of pre-cum.

He pushed forward, forcing the head of his cock past your lips, groaning as your warm mouth enveloped him. "Fuck, that's it," he growled, his hips rocking gently, pushing deeper.

He groaned as your lips stretched around his thick, veiny shaft, your tongue swirling around the sensitive head. His cock was long and hard, the skin smooth and hot against your tongue. The musky, masculine taste of him filled your mouth as you took him deeper, your cheeks hollowing as you sucked.

Saliva dripped down your chin as you bobbed your head, your hand coming up to grip the base, stroking what you couldn't fit in your mouth. He tasted of sweat and arousal, the flavour heady and intoxicating on your tongue.

Lewd, wet sounds filled the air as you slurped and sucked, your nose buried in his pubic hair, breathing in his scent. His balls were heavy and full, bouncing against your chin as you worked him over.

"Fuck, just like that," he grunted, his grip on your hair tightening, his hips snapping forward, fucking your face with shallow thrusts. "Take it all, baby.”

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as he hit the back of your throat, your gag reflex working overtime, but you didn't pull away. Instead, you relaxed your throat, letting him slide deeper, taking him to the hilt.

He threw his head back with a groan, his abs clenching, his thighs trembling as you swallowed around him, your throat fluttering around his sensitive flesh.

"Goddamn, you're a natural," he panted, his voice strained with pleasure.

The click of the safety being disengaged sent a jolt of fear through you, even as you continued to suck him off. The cold metal of the gun brushed against your cheek, a stark contrast to the heat of his cock in your mouth.

He chuckled darkly, the sound sending vibrations through his shaft. "You like that, don't you, baby? The danger, the thrill. It gets you hot, doesn't it?" He pressed the gun to your temple, the barrel cold against your skin as he fucked your face harder, his hips snapping forward, driving his cock deeper down your throat.

"Bet you're soaking wet right now," He groaned, his grip on your hair tightening as he neared his peak. "Fuck, I'm close," he grunted, his hips stuttering, his cock throbbing in your mouth.

He pulled out of your mouth with a wet pop, his cock slick with your saliva. "Not yet, baby," he growled, his voice low and guttural. "I'm not done with you."

He grabbed your arm, hauling you to your feet, spinning you around and shoving you so you were bent over the wooden table. The rough wood scraped against your skin, the edge digging into your hips as he kicked your legs apart, exposing you to his gaze.

He flipped up your skirt, tearing your panties away with a sharp rip. His fingers dipped between your folds, teasing your entrance, circling your clit. 

"Fuck, look at you," he purred, his hand coming down hard on your ass, making you yelp. "Already so wet for me. Yeah, you’re not innocent at all, are you?” He leaned down, his breath hot against your skin as he spat directly onto your pussy, the warm liquid trickling between your folds before he licked a stripe along your slit.

He dove in, his tongue delving deep into your folds, lapping at your juices. He teased your clit with the tip of his tongue before sucking it into his mouth, flicking the sensitive bud with rapid strokes. The hand holding the gun rested against your ass as the other held one of your thighs, exposing you completely to his hungry mouth.

He alternated between long, slow licks and quick, darting flicks, his tongue exploring every inch of your pussy. He growled against your flesh, the vibrations sending shivers up your spine. His nose rubbed your clit as he buried his face deeper, his tongue probing your entrance.

He slipped two fingers inside you, curling them to stroke your G-spot as he continued to eat you out. He added a third finger, stretching you, filling you, as his tongue swirled around your clit.

"Fuck, you taste so good," he groaned, his words muffled against your pussy. "So sweet and wet for me. I could eat this cunt all day."

He sealed his lips around your clit, sucking hard, his tongue flicking rapidly over the sensitive nub. His fingers pumped in and out of you, the wet squelching sounds obscene in the quiet room.

His cock throbbed, rock hard and leaking pre-cum as he feasted on your pussy. The taste of you, the feel of your wetness coating his tongue, the sounds of your moans and whimpers—it all drove him wild with lust.

He fucked his fingers harder into you, curling them just right to hit that spot that made you see stars. His tongue flicked rapidly over your clit as he sucked, nibbled, licked every inch of your sopping folds.

He pulled back, his lips and chin glistening with your juices. His eyes dark and hungry as he took in the sight of you, spread out and desperate for him.

"Mmm, you're so fucking wet," he purred, his voice low and dangerous. "I could eat this pretty pussy all night long."

He trailed the gun along your inner thigh, the cold metal a stark contrast to the heat of your skin. "But first, I think I need to prep you a little. Get you nice and ready for me."

He teasingly ran the barrel of the gun along your folds, the cold metal sending a jolt of sensation through you. "What do you think, baby? Think you can handle this?"

You looked over your shoulder at him, stealing a glance as his eyes gleamed in the moonlight, a faint nod of your head as you wanted it.

"I don't know," he murmured, his voice low and teasing. "Can you?"

He circled your clit with the tip of the gun, the metal cool against your heated flesh. Your hips twitched, seeking more pressure, more friction.

"Look at you, so desperate for it," he purred, his free hand coming down on your ass in a sharp slap. "Even with a gun to your cunt, you're still begging for it."

“Tell me-” he says as he presses a kiss to your inner thigh, “Use those words.”

You bit your lip, trying to hold back the moan that threatened to spill from your lips. His touch, his words, they were driving you crazy with need. You wanted him, all of him, and you didn't care how twisted it was.

"Please," you whispered, your voice hoarse with desire. "Please, I need it. I need you."

He chuckled darkly, the sound sending shivers down your spine. "That's more like it”

He trailed the cold metal of the gun along your slit, teasing your entrance, circling it slowly. You could feel the heat of him, the weight of his gaze on your body as he watched you squirm

He pressed the tip of the gun against your entrance, the metal cool and unyielding. Your breath hitched in your throat, your heart pounding in your chest as he applied just the slightest bit of pressure.

He pressed the tip of the gun inside you, the cold metal sliding in teasingly slow. You gasped, your body tensing at the unfamiliar sensation. He went deeper, inch by torturous inch, stretching you, filling you in a way you'd never experienced before.

"Fuck, look at you taking it," he groaned, his voice low and approving. "Such a good girl, so eager for me."

He worked the gun in and out, fucking you with it, the metal gliding along your walls, hitting spots you didn't know existed. Your pussy clenched around it, trying to adjust to the intrusion, the friction.

He pushed the gun deeper, the metal sliding in with a slick sound, your wetness easing the way. You whimpered, your body trembling as he filled you, stretched you, claimed you in the most primal way possible.

He pulled it out slowly, the metal dragging along your folds, teasing your entrance, before pushing it back in.

He twisted the gun, the barrel rubbing against your sensitive walls, sending sparks of pleasure shooting through you. Your pussy clenched around it, trying to adjust to the intrusion, the friction.

The wet, obscene sounds of the gun pumping in and out of your pussy filled the air, mixing with your moans and whimpers. He angled it just right, hitting that spot deep inside that made your toes curl, your eyes roll back in your head.

He pulled the gun out suddenly, leaving you empty and aching. You whimpered at the loss, your body craving more.

"Patience, baby," he purred as he tossed the gun to the side. "We're just getting started."

He lined himself up, the head of his cock nudging against your entrance.

He pushed inside you slowly, inch by throbbing inch, stretching you, filling you. Your pussy clenched around him, trying to adjust to his size, his heat. He groaned, his hands gripping your hips, holding you steady as he sank deeper.

"Fuck, you're so tight," he grunted, his voice strained with pleasure. "Feels so good wrapped around my cock."

He bottomed out as his massive frame engulfed you as he leaned over your back, his balls heavy and full against you as he remained deep inside you. He stayed there for a moment, letting you feel every inch.

Then he started to move, his hips rocking, his cock sliding in and out of your slick heat. He set a slow, deep rhythm, pulling out until just the tip remained before slamming back in, burying himself to the hilt.

Your pussy fluttered around him, your walls clinging to his shaft, trying to keep him inside. He grunted with each thrust, his fingers digging into your skin with a pressure that you know will leave marks.

He wrapped one arm around your waist, pulling you back against him, his hips snapping forward, driving his cock deeper. His other hand slid up your body, coming to rest at your throat. Not squeezing yet, just a gentle reminder of his control, his dominance.

"That's it, baby," he growled in your ear, his breath hot against your skin. "Take it. Take my cock like the good girl you are."

He fucked you harder, faster, his grip on your throat tightening just a fraction. The dual sensations of pleasure and pressure, of being filled and controlled, sent waves of heat coursing through your body.

"Fuck, you feel so good," he panted, his hips pistoning, his cock hitting that spot inside you that made your vision blur. "Gonna fill you up with my cum. Pump you full until it's leaking out of you."

His fingers tightened around your throat, not enough to cut off your air, but enough to make your heart race, your pussy clench around him. He was so close, his cock throbbing inside you, his body tensing.

His grip tightened on your throat, his fingers pressing just hard enough to make your pulse flutter beneath them. His other arm cinched around your waist, pulling you back harder, his hips slamming into you with bruising force.

"Fuck, gonna come," he grunted, his voice strained and guttural.

He pounded into you relentlessly, his cock stretching you, claiming you, branding you from the inside out. His balls slapped against your clit with each brutal thrust, the wet, obscene sound of skin slapping against skin filling the air.

His hand on your throat squeezed again, not enough to cut off your air, but enough to make your head swim, your vision blur. The dual sensations of pleasure and pressure, of being filled and controlled, pushed you closer to the edge.

His fingers found your clit, rubbing it in tight, fast circles as he fucked you harder, deeper, his cock pounding into your pussy like a jackhammer. The added stimulation was too much, sending you careening over the edge into a mind-blowing orgasm.

Your pussy clamped down around him, fluttering and clenching, milking his cock for all it was worth. Your body shook and trembled, your moans echoing off the walls as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over you.

He groaned, his hips stuttering, his rhythm faltering as your pussy worked him over. "Fuck, yes, come for me," he growled, his fingers pinching your clit, prolonging your climax.

With a final, brutal thrust, he buried himself to the hilt, his cock pulsing and throbbing as he emptied himself inside you. His thick cum filled you, painting your walls white, marking you as his.

He collapsed on top of you, his weight pinning you to the table, his breath coming in harsh pants against your neck. For a moment, you both just lay there, basking in the afterglow, your bodies still joined, your hearts beating in sync.

He rolled his hips, his semi-hard cock still buried inside you, drawing out your pleasure. He pulled out slowly, a groan escaping him as your walls clung to him, trying to keep him inside.

He watched, transfixed, as his cum leaked out of your pussy, dripping down your thighs. The sight of you, so thoroughly used, so marked by him, sent a fresh wave of arousal through him.

"Fuck, look at you," he murmured, his voice rough with satisfaction. "So fucking beautiful, covered in my cum."

He leaned down, pressing soft, teasing kisses along your spine as you lay there, trying to catch your breath. His hands roamed over your body, tracing the curves and dips, the marks he'd left on your skin.

"You did so well, baby," he purred, his lips brushing against your ear.

He nipped at your earlobe, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin. His hands slid down to your ass, squeezing. “Come on, up, lemme get a look at you.”

He helped you up, his hands steady on your hips as you wobbled on shaky legs. He turned you around to face him, his eyes dark and hungry as they roamed over your body, taking in the marks he'd left, the cum still dripping down your thighs.

"Fuck, you're gorgeous," he growled, his hands cupping your face, tilting it up to meet his gaze. "I could look at you like this all day."

He kissed you then, hard and deep, his tongue delving into your mouth, claiming you, tasting himself on your lips. He pulled back, his eyes searching yours, a question in them.

“Didn’t hurt you, did I?” he asks as he helps you redress, along with himself.

"No," you breathe, your voice hoarse and trembling. "It was... intense, but not painful."

You lean into his touch, savouring the warmth of his hands on your face, the solidness of his body against yours. Despite the darkness of what just transpired, there's a strange comfort in his presence, a sense of belonging.

“The gun-” you begin before he chuckles and interrupts you as he approaches the gun and picks it up, “Looks pretty real, huh? Feels it too.”

You laugh a little at that, “Yeah, it definitely felt it.”

“I’ll have to thank your friends for getting me such a good prop” He says, “And for arranging this whole place…You think they’re waiting outside?”

“God no, Shoko made it very clear yesterday that she wouldn’t wait around whilst I came in here to get fucked by my boyfriend. They’ll be long gone, we can call a cab.”

“Cab it is.” He smirks as he leans down to press a kiss to your forehead.

taglist:

@l0v3m3-p13as3 @hishearttohave @williamafton26 @kentochronicles

@jays-adventure3 @nctislifue @eeveedvck @needtoloveoutloud @yowumi

@sweetpo1son @betelgeuse420 @yuhig-blog @psychedellyc @char-35

@kaeyeahsworld @sukunadckrider @ladyackermanisdead @szired

© getoslamb ↣ do not copy or translate any of my works

[reidmania]

sharpest tool | s.reid

(chapter ten, spoiling me)

‘If I ask you for space you write seven-page letters. I used to think that meant I couldn't do better, you blow up at me then you pay for my dinner. I used to think that meant I wound up the winner. But front after front I was taught to forgive, you bought me to rot on the shelves of your fridge and you keep me around 'til you're hungry enough but my face has gone grey, There is mold in my gut’

summary; reader isn’t sure how to feel or how to react when she finds out the truth behind spencer’s sudden absence.

warnings; mentions of death, insecurity, female reader, avoidant reader, angst, first part in italics is a flash back, talks about hotch losing haley, no real details about that case, arguing, no closure.

taglist; @gghostwriter @lavonee @guiltyyassin @spencersinonlygf @criminalmindssworld @iknwreid @fortheloveofgubler @yokaimoon @sapphirecobalt-1 @eddiesdrummergf @livvyliv15 @lover-of-books-and-tea @sebastiansstanswhore @bloodredrubyrose @sp3ncelle @nemobee777 @jencole214 @hazzarules @ameerakane20 @lucere @cultish-corner @psyches-reid

“Tell me something true.”

Your head turned at the sound of Spencer’s voice, a small smile across your features. Your house was warm, cosy and decorated in a way that only could be described as you. You knew Spencer was just glad to me here, it had taken a while for you to let him in the presence of your home. You always deemed someones home the most personal thing about them.

You had been recently questioning where home was.

Sure, your house provided you with comfort after a long day, you craved the warmth of your bed when your feet ached, you could hide in the walls that weren’t alive, they let you bury yourself in emotion to difficult to articulate. You liked that. Your house, there was never any pressure to be anything other than you.

So what were you to do when Spencer made you feel the same way?

You tucked your bottom lip between your teeth as you thought over his question. Pushing your back up against the cushions of the sofa, heels of your feet digging in beneath you as you turned your body to face him, the documentary playing on the tv now long forgotten as your gaze met his.

He was wrapped tightly in a cotton sweater, you were sure in a few days the same sweater would be lost in your wardrobe. He never minded when you borrowed his clothes, deeming they were softer, more comfortable than your own. It was becoming more difficult to ignore the feeling in your chest that bloomed everytime he was around.

“True?” You repeated, furrowing your eyebrows. It was an out of the blue statement, he nodded in response, as he nudged himself closer to you on the couch. You tilted your head a little, “What do you mean, i’ve never told you anything untrue.” You said.

He rolled his eyes, you didn’t have to question why. You both knew deep down what he meant by his question. He was asking you to let him in. You thought letting him into your house was doing just that. Maybe he cared more about knowing your mind.

“You don’t talk. Like- about yourself, about your childhood, or your work, or how high school was- So, tell me something true.” He explained, even though he knew you already understood what he meant. If you needed the verbal clarification, he would give it.

You smiled. He wasn’t wrong and you weren’t embarrassed nor ashamed about your privacy. He would argue you couldn’t call it privacy if you were avoiding talking about it, then it crossed over to secrets. You didn’t mind having secrets either. But you liked Spencer, more than you were willing to admit and the fact he was providing you with the same sort of safe feeling your house did, well it made it easier to be open. To talk about the difficult things.

“What do you want to know?” You asked.

“Why you won’t go out with me.”

You let out a breathy laugh and rolled your eyes. He didn’t seem phased by your reaction to his want, nor surprised. You should’ve expected that to be what he wanted to know, apparently the response you gave the first 23 times he asked wasn’t good enough, maybe because he knew it wasn’t true just as much as you did. “i already told you, I just don’t want a relationship.”

“But why?”

You shrugged, was there an answer to his question, of course. But there was a line you drew in confessing and dumping your past on people, and that conversation would fall over the line, the very thick, very defined line. Unfortunately Spencer’s presence in your life began to blur many lines, ones that seemed once so clear, now smudged. You had yet to decide whether that was a good or a bad thing. It wasn’t just the trauma dumping line blurring, it was every one. It was all of them.

Everything you thought you knew began to shift, your perspectives changed on things when he shared his opinion, your mind was opener, you were more comfortable. You were happier. Maybe not because of him, or because he provided you with more happiness than your life originally had. You were content with your life before meeting Spencer, but there was something nice about having a friend.

“Theres always.. I..” you faltered, shifting uncomfortably, your legs untucking from under you to instead pull to your chest as your arms tangled around your shins, chin resting on your knees. “I’ve always, kind of felt like i was just existing, never really living. I noticed that a while ago, so i decided that if i was going to have to exist, id at least do it peacefully.”

“Relationships aren’t peaceful for you?” He tilted his head, it wasn’t an accusation the way he said it, it was genuine curiosity.

“They haven’t been.” You answered with a shrug. Wishing not to recall your last relationship.

Spencer shuffled closer. His arm’s folding over his chest as he pushed his back further into the couch cushions. He was staring at you, eyes flicking over your features. You were smart enough to realise he was profiling you, trying to see if you were uncomfortable, trying to read you.

“You’re profiling me.” You hummed. He didn’t hesitate in nodding.

“You’re hard to read.” He said, turning his body slightly to better face you. If you knew anything about profiling, or psychology you’d assume he was more uncomfortable than you were talking about this, or maybe he was simply just nervous. “I’ve never really had much trouble in reading people. I can’t read you.”

You tilted your head, you half took it as a compliment. Dedicating so much of your time to making sure nobody really knew you, dedicating so much of your time to wondering if you even knew who you were, to hear that time pay off, well it made you feel a little better about the hole you had dug yourself into all those years ago, the one that seemed a little bit too deep to get out of.

“Does that bother you?” You asked simply. Wondering if much like many others, he would give up trying to figure you out, you’d be slightly disappointed if he did, but not entirely. You simply didn’t want to be figured out. You didn’t want to be read, or profiled, you wanted to stay as you were, even if the look in Spencer’s eyes was convinced of otherwise.

He shrugged, “Not really.” The goofy smile on his face appeared moments after, “I like puzzles.”

You didn’t know whether to be amused or unsettled by his dedication.

“Your turn, tell me something true.” You changed the topic, hoping that maybe the curious look in his gaze would disappear if he had a moment to forget why he was so set on learning every thing about you.

He grinned widely as he rested his head against the couch cushion, looking at you. “I really like you.” He said simply. You hated the way your cheeks rose of colour, you hated that his words made your skin feel a little tight around your bones. You hated that you couldn’t tell whether the feeling swirling in your stomach was a bad gut feeling, or butterflies.

You shook your head anyways, “You have told me that a million times. Pick a different true.”

“But thats the truest I have.” He sounded offended. Not by your lack of response, he knew what you’d say, yet he never failed to remind you that he did in-fact, really like you.

“Spence, pick a different one.”

He huffed, faux frustration over his features as he leant his head back to think for a moment, his eyes travelling the lengths of the ceiling in your home, memorising it. You watched the side of his face, eyes travelling over the curve of his nose and jawline, before he turned his head to look at you, a almost sweet smile on his face.

You didn’t like the way it made you feel.

“One of my biggest fears is losing someone because of my work, someone getting involved or being at harm because of me, thats why i don’t date- really.” He said, the smile on his face remained as he looked at you, but the words that left his lips made your heart frown. You shuffled a little closer, not even realising you were doing it.

“But you have asked me out a thousand times.” You countered, not because you didn’t believe the fear of his, but out of curiosity.

“Yeah well.. I guess we both have fears in relationships, right? I guess i just think its not worth worrying about those things until they might actually happen. Like- you’re worried you’ll get hurt again, I’m worried my job will hurt you, but they aren’t problems right now. You know?”

You smiled, rolling your eyes and shaking your head before leaning into his side. Choosing not to reply.

You slumped against the wooden headboard of his bed, you tried to keep your focus on the small worn out indents over the wood, the detailing, you tried to figure out what wood it was, not that you had enough knowledge on wood to make that decision, you tried your best anyways. You could assume it was red oak, expect it was too dark, maybe it was painted with a wood stain, or maybe it was a different type of wood. Walnut, it could be walnut, that was a darker sort of wood, you were pretty sure, but the marbling texture told you otherwise. Maybe rustic brown maple.

Maybe you were just going insane.

The silence in the room was deafening and the more time went on the more you were convinced that you were purely wasting your time. After Spencer had convinced you to stay for his explanation, you found yourself back on his bed, he sat on the edge of it, watching you as you studied the headboard, the one you had seen a hundred times, or more, yet never gave much thought to. You were waiting for him to say something, anything other than the same apology you had heard repeatedly.

“Do you remember when I left for the case?” Was the first thing he said. It came out timid, careful, his words caused you to stiffen slightly, your shoulders growing tense with the weight of the memory. Of course you remember, it was physically impossible for you to forget.

You didn’t look away from the headboard, now almost dedicated to figuring out what wood it was made out of. You let out a hum, letting him know you were listening, letting him know you did in fact remember the day he left for the case. You remembered driving around for twenty minutes extra while he was taking you home because he was dedicated to finding you basic frosted sugar cookies.

He shifted, you felt the bed dip further as he added more of his weight to it. The closer he got the heavier the air seemed, your body tense with not only all of the memories, the conversation, but also the fact that you were still half foggy from your previous orgasm, you were uncomfortable, despite the fact Spencer made you clean yourself up before having this conversation, because he cared about your health and hygiene even if you wouldn’t let him take care of you after.

He cleared his throat, maybe he was feeling the tension just as much as you were. “I spent every spare second I had texting or calling you for the first few days.” He clarified, expect you knew this, he did this on every case he went on. You didn’t question that he once cared, you believed that, but you questioned what changed.

“Then you stopped.” You mumbled, not breaking your gaze on the headboard, head tilted up so your eyes to travel the detailing of it.

Spencer nodded, “Then I stopped.” He confirmed quietly.

You werent completely sure where to go from there, what to say, what not to say. You didn’t want to plead for an answer why, again. The process seemed repetitive, exhausting. This time you didn’t have to ask.

“A little while ago, Hotch, you know Hotch. He lost his wife.” Spencer spoke, you watched as his fingers dwindled absentmindedly. Your gaze no longer focused on the wood texture or type, now taken by what he was saying, how it related. The same confusing feeling in your stomach that you still hadn’t learnt how to differentiate between a bad gut feeling and a bundle of butterflies.

“Oh.”

Bad response. You knew that. But you didn’t have a lot to say. You didn’t know how someone was supposed to react to something like that, you didn’t know how Spencer expected you to react.

Spencer shuffled so he was better facing you, “I- uh. I won’t go into detail, but it was because of our work.” He muttered, his voice strained and heavy with indication you failed to recognise, or better yet understand.

You were quiet for a while, he let you be. Your eyes never meeting his because this conversation seemed heavier than you expected it to. When you spoke your voice was heavy with emotion, unintentionally so, “Spencer.” A breathy reminder that you were here for a reason.

He knew, he shuffled. You realised how much he was moving around, now nervous he was. Almost as nervous as you. “The case- When I stopped- When i ghosted you, there was an empty threat made against the team by an unsub.” He didn’t want to admit it, you could tell by the strain in his voice and the way his eyes no longer begged yours to meet them.

“Oh.”

“I guess i realised how much danger I was putting you into.” He huffed out. Leaning back against the headboard. The headboard that moments ago you had been studying like it was the most interesting thing in the world, now you couldn’t imagine focusing on anything other than the weight of his confession.

The sweetest reason maybe, for your safety. He removed himself from your life for the sake of your life. Maybe it was an act of love, maybe it proved how much he cared for you. You weren’t sure how to understand what he was telling you, you had a million questions lodged in your throat. All that seemed impossible to get out.

Maybe it was the sweetest intention, but he was immature with the way he went about it. He left like you didn’t matter, like you weren’t worth an explanation.

“You didn’t think to just tell me that?” Was what you said in response, it came out harsh, full of offence. You were offended.

“You would’ve tried to convince me otherwise.”

“Thats a lousy excuse and you know it.” It came out rough, you were sitting up at facing him and every part of you screamed to get the hell out of there and never see him again, yet something kept you sitting. Maybe the hurt you felt, maybe the anger. You weren’t sure, and you didn’t think you cared.

He sighed, “I didn’t want to lose you.”

“Yeah- Right. And how’d that work out for you?” You spat back.

He shuffled uncomfortably before meeting your eyes. “You are alive.”

“I was at no immediate risk.”

“But you could be! Thats what you aren’t understanding— That wasn’t the first time its crossed my mind. If something happened to you, it would be on me. If you got hurt, it was on me. If you got killed, it would be on me. Not only that — but I’d lose you, your friends would lose you, your family would lose you. I value your life more than I value how i feel about you. Im sorry thats not what you want to hear but its true.”

You shut up after that for a moment. How could you argue when his mind seemed so made up. Did you even want to convince him otherwise? It wasn’t like you hadn’t considered the possibility of being in danger before, but the fear always seemed so insignificant compared to the way he made you feel. How were you supposed to argue against him.

“You deserve better.” He said, moving off his bed.

How could you argue with what you knew was true?

You huffed, “Why would you not just talk to me about this Spencer? Why would you make this decision for me? Why are you telling me what risks i am and am not willing to take?” You weren’t sure you wanted an answer. You weren’t sure of anything anymore.

He looked at you, and you swore there was a flicker of something in his eyes, something so gentle and familiar. “A relationship with me is not worth your life.” He stated.

You wanted to yell at tell him that wasn’t his decision to make, that he couldn’t decide this for you. That he was being a coward. A few months ago you would’ve. A few months ago you would’ve done anything for him, you would’ve sat there and reassured him, changed his mind.

Now you weren’t sure.

You moved off his bed like he had moments prior, the room was heavy with an uncomfortable amount of silence. Tension. Unspoken words on both ends. There was still a million things left to say, yet you no longer wanted to stick around to hear them.

“Yeah, Im beginning to see that.”

[paxtito]

sex, drugs, etc.

pairings: vada x reader (g!p)

word count: 4759

warnings: smut 18+, swearing, use of drugs, p in v, they’re high af

summary: you’re a bright student but your sensibleness crumbles when vada is around

a/n: nothing to do with the fic but how the fuck did that orange twat get in??? instead of getting the first woman president we got the first criminal president. i’m not even american but i’ve shed a few tears over that. my thoughts are with every american who isn’t a white straight cis man

The hazy glow of the fairy lights strung across your ceiling seems a little too bright, a little too soft, like you’re floating inside some kind of dreamy bubble. You’re lying back on your bed, giggling at absolutely nothing, while Vada’s sprawled out beside you, head tilted back as she lets out a satisfied sigh. There’s a faint smell of something smoky lingering in the air, and your head feels light, like you’ve somehow managed to let go of all the things that usually weigh you down.

Vada’s influence, no doubt.

You were a goodie two-shoes once—always playing by the rules, never straying too far outside the lines. But somehow, Vada makes it all seem… different. She’s got that spark, that wild, untamed energy that makes everything feel like an adventure. One look, one crooked smile, and you find yourself following her down paths you never thought you’d tread.

“How are you feeling?” she asks, grinning at you, her eyes a little glassy but filled with that mischievous glint that you’ve come to both fear and love.

You take a second to think, to try to wrap your head around the way your body feels. Every little sensation is sharper, more vivid—the cool sheets under you, the warmth of her arm brushing yours. It’s like your mind’s taking it all in for the first time.

“Floaty,” you say, and then break into a giggle that you can’t seem to stop. “And really, really good.”

Vada chuckles, and the sound is low and relaxed, like she’s sharing some secret with you. She reaches over, tugging a strand of your hair playfully. “See? Told you you’d like it. Gotta loosen up a little, take the world in from a different angle.”

You roll your eyes but can’t hide the smile tugging at your lips. “Yeah, well, you make it look way easier than it is.”

She shrugs, leaning back against your pillows, stretching out like she owns the place, which in some strange way, she kind of does. “It’s not about being easy; it’s about not caring so much.” She glances at you, her expression softening just a little. “You care about everything.”

You don’t know whether it’s the haze of the high or the warmth in her gaze, but something about her words hits you right in the chest. She’s right, of course. You care too much, about what people think, about doing the “right” thing, about all the expectations you’ve spent so long trying to live up to.

“You make it sound simple,” you murmur, half lost in your thoughts.

“That’s ‘cause it is.” Vada shifts closer, nudging you with her shoulder, a quiet reassurance in her touch. “You just need a little nudge.”

You turn to look at her, catching the way her eyes linger on yours, her smile soft but knowing, like she’s already seen all the things you’re too scared to let loose. For a second, the world feels like it’s made just of the two of you, drifting in your little haze, nothing else mattering.

“What?” you ask, your voice a little quieter than you meant.

She shrugs again, her eyes still on you. “Just thinking I like seeing you like this.”

“Like what?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.

“Happy. Unfiltered. You.” She grins, breaking the moment with that wild, charming smile that always gets you.

Vada's words linger in the air between you, sweet and intoxicating. You feel a flush creep up your neck, warmth spreading through your chest. Happy. Unfiltered. You. It's been so long since you've felt... well, anything other than the constant pressure to be perfect, to meet everyone's expectations. But here, now, floating in this strange, wonderful haze, it's like all those worries have melted away.

You turn onto your side, facing Vada fully. Her hair is splayed out across the pillow, eyes half-lidded and glinting with mischief in the soft light. She looks ethereal, almost glowing, like some kind of pixie from another world. Your fingers twitch with the urge to reach out, to touch, to see if she's real.

"Vada," you murmur, not even sure what you want to say, just wanting to give voice to the swirl of emotions rising up inside you.

She looks at you, head tilting slightly, a small smile playing at the corners of her mouth. "Yeah?"

You bite your lip, suddenly feeling shy, exposed in a way that has nothing to do with the clothes you're (mostly) still wearing. "Thank you."

Her eyebrows raise in surprise, but her smile widens, turning soft and fond. "For what?"

"For... this." You gesture vaguely between the two of you. "For making me feel... I don't know, alive again? Like there's more to life than just... existing."

Vada's expression gentles, her hand coming up to cup your cheek, thumb brushing lightly over your skin. "You're welcome." She leans in closer, noses brushing, breath mingling. "You deserve to feel alive, you know. To actually live."

Your heart stutters in your chest, pulse thundering in your ears. She's so close, close enough to taste, to touch. Everywhere her skin meets yours feels electrified, buzzing with a strange, thrilling energy.

You jerk back, suddenly hyper-aware of how close Vada is, of the heat of her skin against yours, the softness of her breath on your face. Your heart's pounding, and it's not just from the lingering effects of the high. You press a hand to your chest, trying to steady yourself, to catch your breath.

"I, uh..." You swallow hard, brain scrambling to form coherent thoughts. "I think I need some water."

Vada blinks, looking almost startled by your sudden movement. She sits up slowly, running a hand through her hair, dislodging it from its messy bun. "Oh. Yeah, sure. I'll get you some."

She moves to swing her legs over the side of the bed, but you're already standing, stumbling slightly as you make your way towards the door. "No, it's okay. I'll get it. Just... just give me a minute."

You don't wait for her response, practically fleeing to the bathroom. Once inside, you lean against the closed door, breathing heavily. Your reflection in the mirror is a mess - flushed cheeks, wild eyes, hair sticking up in every direction. You look like you feel - utterly unmoored.

What is happening to you? These feelings, these urges... they're so new, so terrifying. You've never wanted anyone like this before, never felt this overwhelming need to touch, to taste, to...

You can't even finish the thought, because the very idea of acting on it sends a shiver down your spine, both thrilling and terrifying. You're not ready for this. You're not ready for her.

Are you?

You splash cold water on your face, trying to clear your head, to reassert control over your body and your thoughts. But even as you do, you can feel the pull of Vada in the other room, drawing you back like a magnet.

With a sigh, you straighten up, adjusting your clothes and running a hand through your hair in a vain attempt to tame it. You can't avoid this forever. Eventually, you'll have to face her, face these feelings. And maybe... maybe that's not such a bad thing.

You take a deep breath, trying to center yourself. The cold water has helped clear your head a bit, but your heart is still racing, your skin prickling with awareness. You can't avoid Vada forever - or these feelings. Whatever they are.

Squaring your shoulders, you exit the bathroom and head back to your room, steeling yourself for whatever comes next. Vada is still lounging on your bed where you left her, but she sits up when you enter, regarding you with a mixture of curiosity and concern.

"Hey," she says softly, patting the space beside her in invitation. "You okay?"

You hesitate, torn between the desire to flee and the need to confront this thing between you. But in the end, you find yourself drawn to her, like always. You cross the room and sink down onto the bed, careful to leave a bit of distance between you.

Vada watches you, head cocked, a small smile playing at her lips. "So. You wanna talk about it?"

Vada watches you carefully as you settle onto the bed beside her. Her eyes roam over your face, searching, trying to read your expression. You can feel the weight of her gaze, the intensity of her focus. It's both comforting and unnerving, knowing that she sees you so clearly, even the parts of yourself you try to hide.

"I'm fine," you say automatically, but the words ring hollow even to your own ears. Vada arches an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. She scoots a little closer, the warmth of her body seeping into your side. Her hand finds yours, fingers intertwining, grounding you.

"You know you can talk to me, right?" she says softly, her thumb rubbing circles on the back of your hand. "About anything. I'm here."

You swallow hard, throat suddenly tight with emotion. The sincerity in her voice, the earnest look in her eyes... it's almost too much. You've never had someone look at you like that before, like you're the only thing that matters in the world. It's thrilling and terrifying all at once.

"I know," you whisper, squeezing her hand. "I just... I don't really know what I'm feeling right now. Or what it means."

Vada hums thoughtfully, her free hand coming up to brush a stray lock of hair behind your ear. Her fingers linger on your cheek, the touch feather-light but electric. "Maybe it doesn't have to mean anything," she murmurs. "Maybe we can just... feel it. Together."

Vada's hand cups your cheek, her touch gentle but firm, holding you in place. Her eyes search yours, dark and intense, filled with a hunger you've never seen before. "We don't have to label it," she breathes, her thumb tracing the curve of your lower lip. "We don't have to plan for the future or worry about what comes next. We can just... be. Here. Now."

She leans in closer, her forehead resting against yours, breath mingling. Her free hand slides up your arm, leaving goosebumps in its wake. "Can we do that?" she whispers, her voice low and rough with emotion. "Can we just... feel? Together?"

The world seems to narrow down to this moment, to the feel of her skin against yours, the weight of her gaze, the promise in her words. Everything else fades away - the past, the future, all the fears and doubts that usually plague you. In this instant, there's only Vada, only the ache building in your chest, the longing for something you've never dared to want before.

Your heart pounds in your ears, drowning out any rational thought. You know you should pull away, should put some distance between you and the temptation she represents. But you can't seem to move, can't seem to break the spell she's cast over you.

Instead, you find yourself leaning in, drawn to her like a moth to a flame. Your eyes flutter closed, lips parting slightly in anticipation. You're trembling, but it's not from fear anymore. It's from the sheer, overwhelming desire to feel her, to lose yourself in her, consequences be damned.

"Yes," you breathe, the word barely audible even to your own ears. "Please."

Vada's breath hitches, and then she's closing the distance, her lips meeting yours in a searing kiss that sets your very soul alight. It's clumsy and desperate, fueled by weeks of pent-up longing and the lingering effects of the high. But it's also the most passionate, electrifying thing you've ever experienced.

Vada's lips are soft and demanding against yours, her tongue tracing the seam of your mouth, seeking entrance. You open for her willingly, a small moan escaping as she deepens the kiss, her hand sliding into your hair, gripping gently.

Your own hands roam over her back, mapping the dip of her spine, the curve of her shoulders. You've touched her before, but it's never felt like this - charged with electricity, heavy with intent. Every brush of skin against skin sends sparks racing through your veins, pooling hot and insistent in your core.

Vada breaks the kiss, pulling back just enough to look at you, pupils blown wide with desire. "You're so beautiful," she murmurs, voice low and rough. "I want to touch you everywhere."

Her words send a shiver down your spine, arousal coiling tight in your belly. You nod, too breathless to speak, giving her silent permission. Vada's hands slide lower, slipping under the hem of your shirt, skimming over the soft skin of your stomach.

You gasp as her fingers brush the waistband of your pants, teasing, promising. Your hips twitch involuntarily, seeking more contact, more friction. Vada smirks, fingers dipping lower, cupping you through the fabric.

"Fuck," you whimper, head falling back as she starts to stroke you, slow and deliberate. It's almost too much, the pleasure bordering on pain. You've never been this turned on before, never wanted someone so badly it hurts.

Vada's touch is electric, sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your body. Her fingers dance over the sensitive skin of your stomach, tracing patterns that make you shiver and gasp. When she cups you through your pants, you can't hold back the whimper that escapes your lips.

But even as the pleasure builds, you feel a flicker of fear. What if you can't perform? What if you disappoint her? The thought is enough to make your heart race, anxiety mingling with arousal in a confusing cocktail of emotions.

Vada seems to sense your hesitation. She pulls back slightly, searching your face with concern. "Hey," she murmurs, brushing a strand of hair from your forehead. "We don't have to rush. We can go slow, take our time."

You nod, trying to relax into her touch, to focus on the feel of her skin against yours rather than the nagging doubts in your mind. Vada's lips find your neck, pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses to your pulse point. It's distracting in the best possible way, chasing away the last of your anxiety.

She takes her time exploring your body, hands roaming, mapping every inch of you. Her touches are reverent, almost worshipful, like she's memorizing your shape, committing it to memory. It's overwhelming in the best possible way, making you feel cherished, desired.

When her hand slips into your pants, you're already half-hard, aching for more. Vada's touch is deft, confident, stroking you with just the right amount of pressure. You bite your lip, trying to stifle the moans that want to spill out, desperate to maintain some semblance of control.

But it's a losing battle. With each stroke, each kiss, each whispered word of praise, you feel yourself unraveling, surrendering to the pleasure she's building within you. Your hips rock into her hand, seeking more, chasing the bliss that's just out of reach.

Vada smiles against your skin, speeding up her movements, her thumb circling the sensitive head of your cock. "That's it," she purrs.

Vada's fingers continue their sensual dance, stroking and teasing until you're a writhing, whimpering mess beneath her. The pleasure builds, cresting, threatening to consume you whole. But just as you're about to go over the edge, Vada pulls away, leaving you bereft and aching.

"Wait," she giggles, eyes sparkling with mischief. "I think we forgot something important."

You blink up at her, hazy with desire, struggling to follow her train of thought. "What?" you manage, voice strained.

Vada grins, waggling her eyebrows suggestively. "The lube, silly!"

It takes a moment for her words to penetrate the fog of lust clouding your mind. Then, abruptly, you remember - and you burst out laughing, the absurdity of the situation hitting you full force.

"Shit!" you gasp, clutching your stomach as tears of mirth stream down your face. "Lube! Can't forget the lube!"

Vada joins in your laughter, collapsing beside you on the bed, both of you shaking with the force of it. It's a moment of pure, unadulterated hilarity amidst the passion, a reminder that even in the throes of desire, you can still find joy in the simple, silly things.

After a few moments, the laughter dies down, leaving you both breathless and grinning like fools. Vada props herself up on one elbow, looking down at you with a fond, amused expression. "Well," she says, still chuckling slightly, "I guess that's one way to take the edge off."

You snort, wiping tears from the corners of your eyes. "Definitely. Though I'm not sure my heart can handle any more excitement tonight."

"Oh, I don't know about that," Vada purrs, tracing a finger down your chest. "I'm not nearly done with you yet."

Despite yourself, you feel a fresh wave of arousal at her words, your body responding eagerly to her touch. "Is that so?" you tease, arching into her hand.

"Mm-hmm." Vada leans down, capturing your lips in a searing kiss. When she pulls back, her eyes are dark with renewed desire. "Now, where was I? Oh yes, the lube."

She rolls off the bed with exaggerated slowness, her movements slightly uncoordinated in a way that's endearing rather than clumsy. You watch her rummage through your nightstand, biting your lip to stifle another bout of giggles.

Finally, Vada emerges triumphant, brandishing a bottle of lube like a trophy. "Ta-da!" she announces, striking a dramatic pose.

You can't help but laugh again, shaking your head in affectionate exasperation. "You're ridiculous," you tell her, even as your heart swells with fondness.

"And you love it," Vada retorts, crawling back onto the bed and straddling your hips. She leans down, her face inches from yours, eyes shining with mirth and desire. "Now, where were we?"

You smile up at her, reaching up to cup her face, thumb brushing over her cheekbone. "I believe I was about to make sweet, sloppy love to me."

Vada's grin widens, turning wicked. "Mm, I do love it when you talk dirty."

You shift positions, gently guiding Vada to lie back against the pillows. She goes willingly, a soft smile playing on her lips as she watches you through half-lidded eyes. You take a moment to appreciate the sight of her spread out before you, hair fanned across the pillow, skin flushed and glowing in the soft light.

Slowly, almost reverently, you lift the hem of your oversized shirt and pull it over your head, tossing it aside. Vada's gaze rakes over your body, appreciative and hungry. You feel a thrill run through you at the intensity of her stare, the raw desire in her eyes.

You shimmy out of your pants, kicking them off the bed, leaving you bare and exposed. Vada reaches for you, but you gently push her hands away, wanting to be the one to touch, to explore.

You reach for the lube, slicking your fingers, before trailing your hand up Vada's thigh, pushing her legs apart. She goes readily, opening herself to you completely.

You circle her entrance with a fingertip, teasing, before slowly pressing inside. Vada gasps, her back arching off the bed, a moan spilling from her lips. Her walls flutter around your finger, hot and tight, drawing you deeper.

You work a second finger in alongside the first, scissoring, stretching her. Vada rocks her hips, meeting your movements, urging you on. Her hands find your shoulders, nails digging in, anchoring herself to you.

"Please," she pants, voice high and needy. "I need you."

Vada's words send a bolt of pure need straight to your core. She's so honest, so open in her desire, and it only fuels your own. You can't wait another second to be inside her, to feel her wrapped around you, skin to skin.

You quickly slick your cock, positioning yourself at her entrance. Vada looks up at you, eyes dark with lust, trust, and something deeper, more profound. In this moment, she's giving herself to you completely, body and soul. It's both thrilling and humbling.

With a slow, steady pressure, you push forward, breaching her, feeling her tight heat envelop you inch by delicious inch. Vada's breath hitches, a sharp gasp escaping her lips at the initial stretch. Her hands grip your shoulders, blunt nails digging into your skin.

"Wait," she manages, voice tight with strain. "Go slow."

You pause, swallowing hard, fighting the urge to thrust deeper, harder. You take a deep breath, forcing yourself to focus, to be gentle. Vada's comfort, her pleasure, is all that matters right now.

Vada's breath comes in short, sharp gasps as you push forward, her inner muscles fluttering around your length. It's a tight fit, almost uncomfortable, but the discomfort is quickly overwhelmed by the sheer, overwhelming pleasure of being inside her, skin to skin, heart to heart.

"Fuck," Vada whimpers, her hands scrabbling at your back, nails digging into your skin. "You feel so big."

The praise goes straight to your head, making you feel powerful, desirable, like the most attractive person in the world. You want to preen, to crow, to show off for her. But more than that, you want to make her feel good, to give her the same pleasure she's giving you.

So you start to move, slow and gentle, rocking into her with shallow thrusts. Vada moans beneath you, her legs wrapping around your waist, urging you deeper. You comply, increasing your pace, your depth, until you're buried to the hilt inside her.

The sensation is indescribable, like coming home, like finding a piece of yourself you never knew was missing. You feel complete, whole, like you were always meant to be here, now, with her.

Vada clings to you, her face buried in the crook of your neck, breath hot against your skin. Her hips rise to meet yours, matching your rhythm, driving you both towards the edge. The wet sounds of your bodies moving together fill the room, obscene and erotic, spurring you on.

"Harder," Vada pants in your ear, her voice ragged with need. "Please, I need more."

You comply, picking up the pace, thrusting into her with deep, powerful strokes. The bed creaks beneath you, the headboard slamming against the wall, but you barely notice. All that exists is Vada, her body, her touch, her pleasure.

She cries out, nails raking down your back, leaving stinging trails in their wake. The pain only heightens your arousal, pushing you closer to the brink. Your balls tighten, your cock throbbing inside her, signaling your impending release.

Vada's walls flutter around you, signaling her own peak. "I'm close," she whimpers, her legs tightening around your waist. "Don't stop, please don't stop."

You can feel her body tensing, her breath coming in sharp, shallow gasps. You reach between you, finding her clit, rubbing tight circles. Vada keens, her back arching off the bed, her inner muscles clamping down on your cock like a vice.

"Yes, fuck, just like that," she babbles, her words dissolving into incoherent moans. "Oh god, oh fuck, I'm gonna... I'm..."

Her orgasm crashes over her like a tidal wave, her body shaking, convulsing beneath you. The feel of her coming undone, the knowledge that you brought her to this peak of pleasure, is enough to push you over the edge.

With a guttural groan, you bury yourself deep inside her, your own release pulsing through you in hot, intense waves. You collapse on top of her, spent, boneless, your face buried in her neck.

For a long moment, you simply breathe, trying to come down from the high of your shared climax.

—

The classroom is abuzz with the usual chatter of students, the scratching of pencils on paper, the occasional cough or rustle of notebooks. You sit at your desk, focused on the lesson, trying to ignore the lingering ache in your muscles from your recent activities with Vada.

Suddenly, the door swings open, and Vada stumbles in, her hair disheveled, her eyes glassy and unfocused. She's wearing the same clothes from last night, rumpled and wrinkled, and you can smell the distinct aroma of weed wafting off her.

The teacher pauses mid-sentence, eyebrows raised in surprise. "Miss Cavell?" he questions, his tone a mix of confusion and mild reprimand.

Vada blinks, her head tilting as she tries to process the question. "Huh?" she mumbles, her words slurred.

A few of your classmates snicker, exchanging knowing looks. Whispers start to circulate, speculating about Vada's state and the reason for her disruption.

You feel your face heat, a mixture of embarrassment and fear. What if someone figures out what you and Vada have been up to? What if word gets out about your... activities?

The teacher clears his throat, his gaze flicking between Vada and the rest of the class. "Perhaps you'd like to share with us what's on your mind, Miss Cavell?"

Vada giggles, the sound high and slightly manic. She sways on her feet, her hand coming up to cover her mouth, stifling another burst of laughter.

The tension in the room is palpable, everyone waiting to see what she'll do next. You hold your breath, your heart pounding in your chest, praying silently that she'll keep quiet, that she won't say anything to expose your secret.

The teacher's eyes narrow, his patience wearing thin. He gestures to the door, his tone firm. "Miss Cavell, I think it's best if you leave and return when you're feeling better."

Vada's head snaps up, her eyes focusing on the teacher for the first time. She blinks, a slow, lazy smile spreading across her face. "But I just got here," she pouts, her words slightly slurred. "I don't wanna leave."

A few more snickers ripple through the classroom, the other students amused by Vada's antics. The teacher, however, is not impressed. He points to the door again, more insistently this time.

Vada sighs, her shoulders slumping in defeat. She turns to leave, but not before her gaze lands on you. “Can I grab Y/N for a few seconds?”

The teacher hesitates, his brow furrowing as he considers Vada's request. The classroom falls silent, everyone holding their breath, waiting for his decision.

After a long moment, he sighs, his shoulders slumping in resignation. "Fine," he relents, his tone grudging. "But make it quick. We have a lot to cover today."

Vada grins, her eyes sparkling with mischief. She saunters over to your desk, her hips swaying, her steps slightly unsteady. She leans down, her face mere inches from yours, her breath hot against your skin.

"Hey there, gorgeous," she purrs, her voice low and seductive. "Wanna ditch this boring class and come have some fun with me?"

Your heart races, your palms sweating as you try to formulate a response. You glance around the room, seeing the curious and disapproving looks from your classmates, the stern disapproval on the teacher's face.

But despite the potential consequences, you can't help but be drawn in by Vada's magnetic presence, her infectious energy, her promise of adventure. You feel yourself nodding before you can even think better of it.

Vada's grin widens, her eyes lighting up with triumph. "Perfect," she whispers, her hand sliding down your arm, her fingers intertwining with yours. "Let's blow this joint."

Before you can change your mind, she's tugging you to your feet, leading you towards the door. You can feel the weight of your classmates' stares on your back, hear the murmurs and whispers following you as you leave.

But all of that fades away as soon as you step into the hallway, the door closing behind you with a resounding thud. Vada pulls you close, her arms wrapping around your waist, her face buried in your neck.

"That was so hot," she murmurs, her words muffled against your skin. "Watching you squirm, knowing what we did last night... Fuck, I'm getting turned on just thinking about it."

As Vada pulls you close, her body pressed against yours, you feel a flicker of excitement mixed with apprehension. The thrill of sneaking away, of doing something forbidden, sends a rush of adrenaline through your veins. But before you can fully give in to the moment, a sharp voice cuts through the air.

"What's going on here?"

You jump apart, your heart leaping into your throat as you turn to face the principal, her eyes narrowed, her arms crossed over her chest. Vada, on the other hand, seems completely unfazed, a lazy grin spreading across her face.

Fuck.

[hellsitedotcom]

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

*·˚ FIRST KISS HEADCANONS : PART ONE *·˚

ft. Aventurine, Moze.

My brain doesn't work properly, which means I ain't happy with anything I write when it comes to prompts/longer drabbles, so here's another round of Headcanons 'cause, uhhh, I had a random thought. (Unfortunately cursed to have those) EDIT: This...escalated a tiiiiiny bit, buuuut (as much as I hate my writing) I don't rlly mind.

*·˚ warnings/info: well, there's obviously going to be mentions of kissing; mentions of alcohol/drinking (Aventurine); Sunday's escalated so much, I had to make it a separate post lol. *·˚ english isn't my native language!

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

⭒˚｡⋆ Aventurine ⭒˚｡⋆

⇢ I'll be frank: It probably happened while you were both drinking, just ''unwinding'' and ending up having a rather good time. You were sat at a bar way longer than you should've - the employees really just wanted to get home, but you two just...weren't leaving.

⇢ You were sat further away, obscured by room dividers, only your voices audible to anyone else. Aventurine had been teasing you since you agreed to go drink something with him, and now you were both at a point at which he felt like...taking risks.

⇢ He had asked you for a simple game of poker, winner gets granted a wish - but the loser will only find out what the winner wants after the game; were you in, or were you out? And you, slightly drunk, agreed after only a few seconds. What could possibly go wrong?

⇢ And he won - of course he did. What else did you expect? But you were laughing, joking how you had nearly beat him; still in a good mood, you waited for him to tell you his wish - his ''demand''; and he did, your eyes widening for mere seconds, before you granted it.

''Royal Flush,'' Aventurine triumphantly laughed, displaying the cards on the table between you, ''I win, sunshine.'' You just groaned, though you didn't hide the amusement in your expression, ''Oh, you definitely rigged that. There's no way, come on.'' ''Well, at least I almost got you,'' you added more quietly, chuckling while he collected all the cards you had used. ''I simply don't lose,'' he countered, smirking at you as he leaned closer, a motion you followed curiously, ''I thought you would've noticed by now.'' You merely scoffed, rolling your eyes without hiding your smile, ''Sure, sure, Mr. Gambler.'' ''You just got lucky,'' you hummed in a teasing manner, leaning further across the table, ''So, what's your wish?'' Aventurine held your gaze, unwavering, and even in the dim lighting of the bar, you could tell that he was thinking. A part of you wanted to regret agreeing to this, but the other part - the louder part - only grew more intrigued. For a moment, his eyes dropped to your lips - so quickly that you thought you had imagined it - before his lips parted, your eyes widening the slightest bit at his words, ''How about a kiss?'' You could feel your face heat up, a wave of different emotions momentarily taking over your expression before you collected yourself again. ''Just a kiss?'' you repeated, making sure you had heard him right. ''Just a kiss,'' Aventurine confirmed, slightly tilting his head, ''Only if you're comfortable, that is.'' Silence settled after that, your mind still processing his wish. Despite how lost in your thoughts you were, you could notice Aventurine grow...unsure? No, that wasn't really it... You were taking too long, and the man was beginning to wonder if you would back out. And just as he was about to repeat himself, making sure you knew that you didn't have to kiss him if you didn't want to, you crossed the space between the two of you, your lips crashing against his. You weren't even thinking, merely acting on instinct...on a feeling deep inside you, an urge you had been fighting for months. The second your lips had touched his, all your restrain had vanished, and Aventurine didn't seem to be feeling any different as he reciprocated your kiss, a hand coming up to rest on your neck, pulling you even closer. Neither of you could get enough, your hands resting on the table between, but all good things have to come to an end, don't they? As you tried moving even closer, breathless from the things he was doing to you, a loud buzzing noise interrupted the two of you, making you pull apart. ''The IPC...'' Aventurine groaned, visibly annoyed as he stared at his phone screen. He had to take the call, you both knew it. And, before the man could decide if he was willing to take another risk by pressing on decline, the bar staff came up to you, informing you that it was time to leave for you anyway...

⇢ You didn't sleep much that night, or the nights that followed, your mind too busy replaying that kiss over and over again. The next time you saw Aventurine again, neither of you mentioned the night at the bar, though from the way he looked at you alone, you knew you weren't the only one unable to forget it.

⭒˚｡⋆ Moze ⭒˚｡⋆

⇢ This came to me in a prophetic dream (listening to music & daydreaming), and I am a firm believer that your first kiss happened...on accident, almost. In a situation that...how did it even come to that?

⇢ You were sat beside him, hiding in the ''shadows'' away from everyone else while Moze was patrolling the area. There...wasn't really a need to do it, but it was Moze, so you didn't really question it. And while he was taking all of this seriously, you were just...laying in the sunlight, having a wonderful time.

⇢ At one point, you had just started talking, asking brief questions or sharing thoughts with him, which he - though somewhat reluctantly - replied to. Eventually, you'd even gotten him to learn over to you, and as you held his gaze in that moment, it just...came over you.

⇢ Maybe it was the fact that you were having a good day, the sunlight making you feel so alive and full of energy. Or, maybe it simply was the man's captivating presence, making you feel like you were admiring a painting. Regardless of the reason, the urge to learn in had taken over.

''I mean, I guess I just don't understand it,'' you rambled, emphasizing your confusion with your hands, ''Why make everything so much more complicated than it has to be, you know? Artisans can be a really odd bunch.'' You were lying on your back, staring up at the sunny sky as waterfall after waterfall of thoughts fell from your lips, when Moze suddenly leaned over, allowing his arm to rest beside your head. ''You talk too much,'' he huffed expressionlessly, making you fall silent as you dragged your eyes up to meet his gaze. ''Maybe you just don't talk enough,'' you quipped back, your lips twitching in amusement, ''Besides, if it bothered you, you wouldn't have stuck around me this long. We both know that.'' The man just grunted, focusing back on the crowd underneath you, ''Just try to be more quiet. I'm not helping you if we get spotted.'' ''Of course,'' you hummed, not believing a word he was saying, earning you another discontent grunt from him. Your smile just grew at that, eyes still glued to the man standing beside you. ''Just admit it, big guy,'' you teased, slightly tilting your head to get a better look at him, ''You enjoy my company.'' That made Moze turn back again, violet eyes boring into yours as he leaned over once again, making a swarm of butterflies awaken in your stomach, ''Is that so?'' His face was mostly obscured by shadows, hidden by the hood he always wore while you laid in the sun, yet her gentle warmth was entirely forgotten as you held the man's gaze, ''Tell me I'm wrong?'' Moze was quiet, just watching you wordlessly. You couldn't tell what he was thinking, but you realized the longer you stared at him, the less you cared about his answer to your counter. You were too busy getting lost in a daydream, drowning in his eyes, when a sudden urge came over you. What if you just-? Your inner voice didn't even need to finish the question, your body moving on its own as you propped yourself up, not even giving the man any time to react as you pressed your lips against his. Moze seemed to freeze under your touch, unmoving at first, until you felt his hand rest against your chin, tilting your head to deepen the kiss. His patrol all but forgotten, the man's lips began moving against yours until you pulled away to catch your breathe, your heart racing. ''I-'' You wanted to say something, but your mind, despite the hurricane of thoughts tormenting it, couldn't form a coherent sentence, so you just continued staring at him, eyes searching his expression for anything - any sign that this meant something to him. But you never got that answer as the man took a step back, letting go of you, Moze's expression as blank as a canvas. He was still looking at you, watching as your previously cheery expression began to falter, yet he remained quiet as you struggled to find the right words.

⇢ You didn't get any reaction out of Moze that day, nor did you ever calm down enough to actually say something to him in that moment. Eventually, Moze merely continued his patrol, telling you he needed to move to the next location before disappearing without waiting for a reply.

⇢ Since then, you've been...well, on one hand you've been trying to avoid him, but on the other hand, you still hoped you would catch a glimpse of him regardless of where you went. And, while you thought he probably never thought about the moment you shared, Moze felt the exact same way as you.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

[sulumuns-dootah]

WHB characters meeting their Obey Me! counterparts pt.2

⟡ Masterlist ⟡

A/N: Asmodeus is finally back in Hell and I'm finally able to make the second part to THIS post! I also included some more characters so it's not just the two leftover kings ^^

The scenario is still the same with OM!Solomon's spell going wrong and interconnecting the universes together

      ༺☆༻

Asmodeus

Okay, OM!Asmodeus has two reactions:

"Ooh? Such a brave outfit! And those thorns are so pretty!"

but then after a few seconds after he catches a whiff of the smell, he's about ready to die

If he manages to overcome this difficulty, they'd get along pretty well

WHB!Asmodeus doesn't really react... He does recognise OM!Asmodeus as another version of him and that's about it

Oh, but once they get to talking, you can rest assured that WHB!Asmodeus is pulling out the baby pics like the proud father of his little halfling army that he is

OM!Asmodeus' followers can also expect getting their timeline spammed with photos of these two because he just wants to commemorate this meeting as much as he can

      ༺☆༻

Belphegor

Depending on the time of day, both Belphies wouldn't even notice bc they're snoozin' the day away

But let's say they both happen to be awake at the same time

The first thing OM!Belphegor notices is the amount of piercings on WHB!Belphegor

Those must've been a pain to sleep with while they're healing

Also, once he finds out that WHB!Belphegor doesn't have to do anything and has people do everything for him, he's kinda jealous

WHB!Belphegor is kinda surprised to find out that another him is twins with Beelzebub

They're almost exact opposites, or not?

If their talk steers to the whole OM!Belphegor locked up in an attic thing, WHB!Belphegor will be kinda mad on his behalf, but secretly wish he was there so nobody'll bother him

A cute concept though: OM!Lucifer finally finds these two after dealing with the rest of brothers and sees them sleeping curled up together

OM!Belphegor curled up to WHB!Belphegor who's holding him like the bigger spoon

      ༺☆༻

Raphael

At a first glance, you'd think these couldn't be any further from each other, but don't let the look of OM!Raphael fool you

WHB!Raphael was quick to see through OM!Raphael's facade of cool and calm demeanor

OM!Raphael's critical eye immediately notices all the bandages on WHB!Raphael, but he chooses not to comment on it for now

...Somehow, he did not notice the blood splatters on WHB!Raphael's clothes, though?

Out of all the rooms with our guys seeing their counterparts, this is the one I'd like to be the least in

WHB!Raphael is a bit cuckoo and doesn't mind challenging his other self

And OM!Lucifer can't stop this from happening so, honestly, R.I.P.

There are no winners or losers

They fight until the whole thing is resolved and after that, the room is filled with OM!Raphael's spears and dead angels WHB!Raphael spawned in

      ༺☆༻

Michael

WHB!Michael at first thought he's just in a room with some other angel he didn't recognise

Until OM!Michael didn't speak up, that is

"I see, so this is me..."

"Wait, what tf do you mean me being you? You dare to think you're my equal?!"

WHB!Michael's short fuse is something that does surprise OM!Michael, but who doesn't have their quirks, right?

If OM!Michael manages to avoid triggering WHB!Michael, they could get along for the time being

Still, WHB!Michael doesn't want to believe there could be other version of him, so he suspects every action and word OM!Michael says

Afterwards, OM!Michael might even write a poem about their meeting

      ༺☆༻

Ppyong & Little D.

New besties for life alert!

These two little blob-demons instantly click and start sharing stories of their respective version of Hell

Don't tell Minhyeok, but Ppyong even forgets about him for a second

I'm not sure if Little D.s eat actual food, but I imagine that if Ppyong mentions how good sweets are, Little D. would tell other D.s about it and OM!Barbatos would get a heart-attack thinking rats got into his kitchen

But nope

Just a few curious mini demons, who heard that chocolate and other food is actually delicious

Oh, and if Ppyong is able to transform into Juno, I'm sure he'd do it just to flex on Little D.

Yes, Little D. gets jealous and once he's back, he's begging anyone and everyone to be able to do the same thing

Overall, these two are super adorable, and Ppyong is kinda like the older, cooler brother of Little D.

      ༺☆༻

Solomon

Two idiots trying to come up with a fix to the whole situation

(That was my initial note for how these two seeing each other would go and I'm keeping it :D)

Picture this: The room and everything is on fire, OM!Solomon's running around, trying to take the flames out and finish the spell that will undo his mesed up spell

WHB!Solomon is just louging on a sofa, unbothered by the whole commotion

Occasionally flirting with OM!Solomon

"Is it just me, or is it getting hot in here?"

"There's fire everywhere."

"I've noticed"

"Are you gonna help me do something about this?"

"No~"

OM!Solomon knows OM!Lucifer will now hold this little mistake over his head for the next few centuries

There goes his chance to get a contract with him :/

      ༺☆༻

I also had an idea about writing the other demons meeting someone they have stuff in common with(Simeon&Gabriel, Cerberus&Naberius, Diavolo&All kings,...) but decided to not add it to this post, though if anyone wants that too, lmk ^^

[alicewritez]

Sweater Weather - Aaron Hotchner

word count: 815

summary: you and Aaron have harboured feelings for each other for a while, the pair of you holding yourselves back for so long, until now. with many mishaps of the day, you both end up in the same room together with one bed. the atmosphere is calm and light, allowing the perfect time to admit your feelings.

Aaron Hotchner x Fem! Reader

authors note: fluff - lots of it, just a short one this time as I haven’t written anything in months and I’m finally starting to get my spark back so expect a lot more from me soon! Feel free to send any requests/ideas you may have. I hope you enjoy 🌸💕

The case was a rough one. You and the team had wrapped it up earlier that day, but there were some complications with the jet and the bad weather near home in Quantico, meaning you were stuck in a remote town of Alaska and everyone was forced to share a room - everyone except you and Aaron. However, even that didn't go as smoothly as what you had hoped; due to a water leak in your room, you and Aaron were forced to share his room. With one double bed.

"I know this is inconvenient", Aaron speaks up, stifling a yawn; his eyes tired. "I can take the floor. It's no issue, I don't want you to feel uncomfortable".

"No it's okay", you speak up, finally finding your voice as you set your bag down by the dressing table. "Well.. only if you.. you know.. are happy sharing..", you ramble. "I wouldn't want you to do your back in or do any damage.."

"Of course, I don't mind sharing. We're colleagues. Just promise me you won't try and take all the covers."

"I'm known for stealing the covers". You give him a playful look. Aaron chuckles, and it takes you by surprise as it's so rare for him to let his guard down, especially around you and the team. "I wouldn't expect anything less." A playful smirk tugs at his lips. "Well, just try not to.. please? I don't want to freeze to death through the night."

"Well we can't have you getting all cold, can we?" You tease further. He gives you an amused look and rolls his eyes. "I'll live".

"Your outfit says otherwise". You quip back, a grin on your face. He appears taken aback by your comment, but a small grin is creeping across his face. How do you do this to him? He thinks. How do you make him all.. soft? He crossed his arms. "Well, I think it looks quite professional".

"Professional? I'd disagree.. distracting however? Fits much better.."

Despite the blush that threatens to appear, Aaron is smiling wider now. "And what about my outfit is so distracting?"

"The quarter zip? You couldn't have chosen anything less.. attractive? Why must you make things difficult?"

"You think my sweater is attractive?" He questions with a lifted brow, oblivious to what it was you were trying to imply.

"Well no.. I think you look attractive in it.." you groan. "Ugh.. did I just say that out loud?.. you're my boss-". He takes a step closer to you, his voice barely above a whisper. "We're not at work.. right now, I'm just Aaron."

"Except you're not just Aaron..", you start. "You're handsome, kind, caring, funny - when you finally let your guard down - you're perfect even with your imperfections.. you're.. you..". And without thinking about it for once, he closes the gap between you both and presses his lips against yours, the hand that had once been still at his side moves to cup your jaw.

He pulls back for a moment, resting his forehead against yours. "Please, just.. say something."

"This makes things difficult.. but I love you anyway." You smile.

"I love you too, so much..", he kisses you once more, smiling against your lips.

"I think we should share rooms more often, in cases away from home, if this is the outcome.."

"I think I'm going to have to agree with you on that one. Maybe my quarter zips aren't so bad after all?" He grins teasingly.

You laugh. "I'll love you no matter what you wear."

"That's good, because I really love this sweater." He grins before pulling you back in, this time kissing you more passionately. You kiss him back, your hand instinctively moving to brush against his cheek. He presses a kiss to your nose before reluctantly pulling away. "As much as I'd love to stay like this all night, we do have to get up early tomorrow morning."

You hum disappointedly, "I suppose.."

"As soon as we get home, you're mine, okay?" He whispers against your lips before stealing a quick kiss.

You grin against his lips, "okay..". He reluctantly moves back and heads over to the bed. Aaron gets in and lays down, making himself comfortable, before holding his arm out to her. "Come on, I'll keep you warm and I promise I won't steal the covers."

You grin, getting under the covers beside him and snuggling up into his side. He shuts off the lamp before wrapping an arm around you, pulling you close and securing you in place. "Goodnight, Princess. I love you."

"Goodnight Aaron, I love you too." You sigh contentedly as you shift, resting your head against his chest. He kisses the top of your head before closing his eyes, easily falling asleep with you by his side.

And that was the first of many peaceful nights to come.

[aayakashii]

I remember you did something kind of similar already, but I was thinking what if Vagastorm had an S/O that can or likes to carry them around sometimes? :3c

Omg I am obsessed with your art btw 😭😭 I love it so so much, it always makes me laugh!!!!

And yesss I did it here!! Which is wow a LONG time ago so I'd love to give it a go again, with a fresher opinion on them all hehehe

Vagastrom with a S/O that loves to carry them around (with pictures ?!)

Alan

He's absolutely horrified with this situation

Please put him down

Doesn't matter if you're EXTREMELY strong, he still thinks and acts as if he could hurt you even if he's not doing anything

Literally the type of guy that needs to go through exposure therapy in order to get used to the most minuscule touches

So you'll have to work hard until he allows you to carry him around sometimes

You can begin slow, after he's used to you hugging him

You can go for a hug, squeeze him tight and then finally lift him for a few seconds

He'll still be alarmed, but slowly he'll get used to your random bursts of affection that lead to you carrying him around

Once he's used to it, however, he thinks it's actually kind of relaxing

Feeling weightless for a little while in your arms is an unexpected bonus of his relationship with you

And he won't lie that it brings him great comfort that you're strong

Don't get him wrong, he still acts as if you're easily breakable

But maybe not as much... Just a little bit 🤏

Alan before he got used to being carried vs Alan after he got used to being carried

Leo

Oh he LOOOOVES it

But only when he wants it, of course

As soon as he realizes you are strong enough to carry him around, he WILL be using this opportunity to be as lazy as possible

What do you expect from the guy who is plenty capable of doing anything with his ghoul strength but still asks Alan to open cans for him 😭

You will become his little lackey whenever he wants to be carried and you will 100% like it

Some of those weird cats are going around cleaning the dorm? Get up and carry him somewhere else xox

He found a new trend on tiktok abt partners carrying each other? Come here real quick and let him film a new video for his feed thx

Now YOU want to carry him out of nowhere when he didn't ask for it??

Now that's some audacity

Be ready to either be pushed away or to have some bubblegum stuck on your face for a long time 🫶

He's like a poisonous animal, except instead of shooting out venom when he's distressed, he shoots out hazardous, life-threatening bubblegum

But hey, you should know better...

Don't pet the cat if the cat doesn't wanna be pet, duh

Leo when he doesn't want to be carried vs when he wants to be carried

Sho

He finds it extremely embarrassing

No, you don't understand. He LIKES it. And THAT'S why it's embarrassing.

When you come running towards him while he's working, hug him tight and then lift and spin him around...

And he knows he's blushing like a fucking school girl in front of all of his customers..........

Please stop 🤚

Actually, no. Don't stop. But please do that in private so he won't lose face in front of his customers.

Especially in front of that kid from Frostheim who he almost beat up. How is he going to defend his pride when he's tucked all comfortable and cute in your arms, being held high???????

Toxic masculinity aside, he loves to be carried by you

Loves to feel like you like him so much that you can't help but hold him so tight like that

He does the same to you and soon it becomes a competition of who's gonna carry who first when you two meet afterhours at his room

His favorite thing, however, is when he manages to kiss you while he's being carried

If you're going to make him all flustered like a little lovesick dumbass, then you bet he's gonna do the same to you 🫵‼️

Sho when he's screaming inside and blushing bc you're carrying him in public vs Sho when you two are alone