#but I have a grip on the other side and for me to just be functional is a fucking miracle in itself

[ceilidho]

Buttermilk

It doesn't take long to settle into the rhythm of your new summer job. Or: the babysitter x single dad au

Part 3 | masterlist

-

It’s not unusual for someone to mistake you for the baby’s mama.

How could someone not, at least for a moment? When you take the baby to the grocery store, older people gush over him babbling in his stroller, eager to shower him with compliments in baby-talk or tell you how much you resemble the little tyke. After hearing the same comment for the umpteenth time, you tire of correcting people by saying you’re the babysitter only to watch their face fall, somewhat mortified and feeling as though their comment should’ve been directed to the baby’s actual mother. Which isn’t you. 

It’s less typical for someone to mistake you for John’s wife, though that does happen from time to time.

You’ve become a fixture around the neighbourhood since John hired you at the beginning of the summer, and over the weeks, the other nannies and the stay-at-home moms have started to gradually warm up to you. Before long, you’re being invited on coffee runs and playdates with some of the other women, always careful to ask for John’s permission before bringing his baby into a stranger’s house.

“Just text me the address and their names,” he requests while you stand awkwardly in front of him, John sitting on the bed to finish buttoning up his shirt and fixing his watch around his wrist. You would’ve been fine standing on the other side of the door while he finished changing, but he insisted on inviting you in.

“I will,” you promise, nodding along with his words.

“And call me if you don’t feel comfortable. I’ll come get the two of you right away if you need me.”

You swallow. Nod again.

The first time you take the baby for a playdate with a couple of the moms from the park, one catches you in the act of texting John the address of the house as he requested. “Hubby wants to know where you are, huh?”

“Oh,” you choke out, face heating up. “He’s not—”

“Not a control freak, I know. They’re all like that.” Her smile is ebullient, rolling her eyes like you’re in on a joke together when you most assuredly are not. “Why don’t you share your location with him? Mine’s the same way. Here—I’ll show you how.”

She takes your phone and tap-taps something and suddenly you see it in the notifications of your conversation with John. If you bite your lip instead of correcting her assumption about the nature of your and John’s relationship, that’s for you and you alone to know. Your rationale is that any explanation will just make things tense; it’s not like you haven’t seen it happen before. 

It’s far more concerning when John doesn’t correct those assumptions. Particularly when you’re standing right next to him. 

Like at the local water park on a particularly hot weekend, wading in the kiddy pool with the baby nestled tight against your chest in his little swim trunks and floppy hat only for an employee to ask John if his wife would like something to drink. 

“Iced coffee, love?” John asks, taking your stupefied silence as a yes. “Nothing for me, mate. Cheers.” 

Your head spins like a top on that thought until a good while later. The server hands you a glass of iced coffee with condensation already dripping down the sides and John thanks him for you, taking the baby from you and pulling you to his side. You drink your coffee quietly with your thigh flush with his under the water, gripping the glass harder when his free hand squeezes around your waist, laughing at something another parent said to him.

It’s so over for you. There’s no coming back from this. 

The sight of someone of John’s size, a bulky, military man with arms of pure steel dusted with dark hairs, cradling a tiny, chubby baby with a thatch of similar dark hair on his head and big cheeks and roly poly arms unlocks something primal in you. An old, buried need. 

In the family changing room, you stand under an ice cold shower until it breaks the fever slowly consuming you. All you can do is hope it takes. 

In the evening, you sit out on the porch with John at the back of the house until the crickets swell with song, the moon a half-crescent in the sky. A cool breeze makes your shoulders lift a little, huddling into your body to keep warm. 

It’s hard to keep your eyes on the view in front of you and off the man sitting beside you when they want so badly to be running over him. He’s changed out of his work clothes into a soft pair of sweatpants and an old threadbare shirt, the sage green fabric faded after years of being run through the washing machine. It clings to his biceps and the soft pudge of his stomach, a layer of fat over the hard muscle beneath. 

A cigarette dangles from his fingers, thick wrist perched on the arm of the adirondack chair. Every so often he lifts it to his lips for a puff, always breathing out in the opposite direction from you. Considerate of your health, at least, if not his own. 

“Cold, sweetheart?” he asks before ashing his cigarette, and your bottom lip purses when you turn your head to look at him because you thought you were doing a good job suppressing your shivers. 

You stare at him, confused. He cocks an eyebrow at your questioning stare and deliberately glances down, waiting until you notice the way your nipples are protruding through your white tank top. You forgot that you’d taken your bra off earlier for a bit of relief and hadn’t yet had a chance to put it back on. 

“Oh my god,” you squeak, crossing your arms to hide as much as possible, humiliation flooding through you. “I’m so sorry—that’s so—I-I’m so sorry.”

John makes a rough sound when he rises to his feet, knees cracking as he does. “S’alright, hun. Lemme get you something to put on.”

The screen door creaks when he goes back inside briefly to fetch something only to come back a few seconds later with a big, cotton sweater that reeks of him. It looks well loved, some remnant of his younger years, and even from a distance, you can smell the distinct smoky aroma clinging to the fabric. 

When he kneels in front of you, you nearly go cross-eyed at the realisation that even on his knees, he’s as tall as you. The bulk of his waist forces your legs to spread around him. 

“C’mon, arms up,” John commands, barely waiting until you’ve raised your arms above your head before helping guide your head and arms into the right holes. 

Dragging the sweater down the way he does forces it to rub over your nipples, sending a shock through you. If you had any less self-control, your teeth might actually chatter together. 

“There we go,” he says, fluffing out the sweater around your waist before resting his hands on the tops of your thighs, the gesture coming so naturally to him that you doubt he’s even noticed the placement of his hands. “Much better. That’ll warm you up.”

He isn't wrong. You’ve already worked up a sweat. 

Late night rain.

It comes down in buckets, a dark slate rapping hard against the window pane. A bolt of lightning flickers across the horizon off in the distance. White striations across an otherwise dark sky. About thirty seconds later, thunder rumbles. 

You peek from between the blinds, chewing your lip nervously. You’ve never driven in rain this bad, but with supper done and the dishes washed, there’s no excuse for you to stay any longer. Still, the rain comes down so heavily that despite your timidity, you briefly contemplate asking John if you can stay a little longer. At least until it lets up a bit; until your headlights won’t blind you reflecting off the puddles on the drive home. 

Someone else pulls the blinds further apart.

“There’s no way in hell you’re going out in that,” John says from behind you, practically growling his words. Daring you to contradict him. 

You glance over your shoulder to find him right there at your back, staring out the window. He’s so close that you can smell the red sauce on his flannel from dinner and make out the flecks of grey in his beard that are almost masked by the darker hairs. 

“It’s not…that bad…”

“Sweetheart, don’t piss me off,” he warns.

The blinds shuttle back together with a clatter when you finally let go of them. 

“I could—I could take the couch,” you offer. 

“Sweetheart,” John sighs, looking down at you meaningfully.

“What?” you ask, confused.

“I’m not gonna take the big, comfy bed and leave you with the couch.” When you open your mouth to protest, he cuts you off. “And don’t even try arguing. I won’t hear it.”

There’s not much you can say to dissuade him after that. The furrow of his brow lets you know he’s made up his mind; no ifs, ands, or buts. Besides, there’s a not-so-secret part of you that’s relieved that you don’t have to drive home in this weather. You’re an average driver on a good day. You don’t need your last moments before shuffling off this mortal coil to involve hydroplaning on the highway before ramming into the guardrail. 

John gives you a shirt of his to change into for after your shower, which you spend far too long in, scrubbing your body with his shower gel and quivering under the warm water. When you pull it on, you bring the collar up to your nose to smell. The same patent smoky scent, musky like ambergris and leather. Intoxicating. It makes the blood rush through your ear like a conch shell, the ocean swirling behind your eardrum. 

You hadn’t asked for underwear, content at first to keep on the same pair, but after your shower, you cringe at the thought of putting your day-old panties back on. Besides, his shirt is long enough to cover anything indecent. 

He sits on the edge of the bed when you come out, the concern on his brow melting away at the sight of you. 

“Practically a dress on you, isn’t it?” John says, voice a little wondrous. His eyes drag over you, tip to toe. 

You fiddle with the ends of it. “…Are you sure you want me to take the bed?” 

“Wouldn’t be fair. It’s yours for the night.” His lips quirk up at the corners when you frown. “Don’t worry about me—I’ve slept in worse places before.”

“Like where?” you ask dubiously.

“Tents. Abandoned buildings. Shacks. In the back of a moving van a few times. You wouldn’t believe half the places we used to make camp. Definitely no place for pretty girls like you.”

His condescending tone vaguely annoys you, but it’s hard to dig into your irritation when he thumbs the edge of the shirt you’re wearing and you realise that he’s just a few raised inches away from noticing that you don’t have any panties on. You should’ve just put your old ones back on, but it’s far too late now. 

You clear your throat instead. “We could…um…we could share.” 

You don’t know what possesses you to offer to share the bed, but the words are already gone, out of your mouth and in the air. John cocks an eyebrow.

“Unless you don’t want to,” you amend. 

“Don’t know about that, sweetheart,” he rasps. “…I snore like a bear.”

“That’s okay. I’m a pretty deep sleeper.”

John scrutinises you a bit longer, looking for any sign of hesitancy. You know he’d squash your offer in a second if he found any wariness in your gaze. 

“Alright,” he finally concedes, letting go of your shirt and slapping his thighs. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you when you wake up and can’t fall back asleep because of my snoring.”

After his shower, during which you lie on your side facing away from the bathroom door, stomach fraught with nerves as you consider the fact that he’s naked in the ensuite, you hear him come out and rummage around in the dresser for a change of clothes. You lie beside him with your stomach twisted in knots, your hands shoved under the pillow and staring resolutely at the wall. 

The appropriateness of sleeping in the same bed beside your boss isn't lost on you, but you're too far into this now.

The bed dips when he settles onto the other side, and the sudden absence of light when he switches the bedside lamp off nearly makes you cheep. 

He breathes heavily, you notice, particularly when he finally falls asleep. It’s a deep, rumbling sound—not entirely unlike a bear, though you can’t really confirm that for certain seeing as how you’ve never slept beside a bear before. 

Those are the thoughts that would signal the approach of sleep if you weren’t soon to be engulfed by it. 

Sometime in the middle of the night, you wake up to a rough hand stroking your back leisurely. There’s a hard chest under you, your cheek propped up on a pillowy pec that rises and falls with his breaths. Sleep bobs around in you like a toulouse decanter. You struggle to keep an eye open, certain that there’s something you need to tend to, but then his hand slides down your back again to curve over your rump and sleep drags you back down. 

You wake up again to your breath wafting back into your mouth, your face shoved into the crook of a man’s neck. Humid, hot. You’re lipping at the skin of his neck, little tongue darting out to lap up a bead of sweat, salty on your tongue. 

Your cunt pulses against his leg, toes curling when John drags his hand up your thigh and hitches it higher up around his waist. 

“Baby?” he groans, his voice still rusty from sleep. The sound is a rough burr up your spine. 

“Sorry,” you whisper. “Couldn’ get comfy.”

“You hot?” he asks.

The denial on the tip of your tongue slips back down your throat when he plants his foot on the bed and draws his leg up, pressing the meat of his thigh into your throbbing sex. 

“Here, lemme help you—” he groans, reaching down to ruck up your shirt, dragging it up over your breasts and helping manoeuvre your arms out of the holes. It gets tossed off the bed onto the floor. 

Now your breasts are flat on his chest, smushed against his ribcage. It registers somewhere in the back of your head as inappropriate, but sleep pushes that thought away, focusing instead on the discomfort of moving around when you just want to settle back down and go back to bed. 

It must be the heat making you act this way. 

“Shit—sorry, sweetheart,” he apologizes, shifting under you. “M’hot too.”

He plants a hand on your ass and heaves you up his chest, giving him enough room to wiggle out of his boxers. It pushes your breasts right into his face, your nipples mere inches from his mouth. When his tongue pokes out to wet his upper lip, it nicks your pebbled nipple. 

A hard length presses against your butt when you’re slid back down, the tip wet when it catches against your skin. 

“Jus’ ignore it, sweetie,” John mumbles, petting a hand down your back. 

You lie like that for a while, splayed over his body. Want simmering just under your skin. Flustered and exhausted all at once, sleep-drained; not a drop of strength in your muscles. 

The heat is just—

Scorching. Dizzying. You feel featherbrained, slipping in and out of sleep, biting off the whimpers that threaten to crawl up your throat when John tucks his hands into the crevice of your thighs to wrench them apart, spreading them around his hips again. 

Distantly, you remember that the man under you is at least twenty years your senior. Your employer at that. A man now palming your butt, sinking his fingers into the flesh and rumbling low in his throat. 

It’s wrong—flagrantly wrong. You know that you should say something, that you should get up and tell him that you’re going to sleep on the couch instead. But your tongue is too thick for your mouth. And your thoughts are a sticky paste. The pulse between your thighs empties out all the common sense from your head. 

His palms are slick on your skin. 

Your breathing grows shallow when a hard length suddenly pushes between your thighs as well. 

When the mushroomed head nudges at your opening, you flinch, heart thumping ferociously against your chest. 

“John—John—” you breathe, panicked. As if to warn him. As if he weren’t planting both feet on the bed and lifting his hips. 

As if it wasn’t his hands, warm on your waist, dragging you down onto the shaft spearing into you. 

Your blood is molten hot in your veins. Sticky hands and sticky fingers curl into his chest hair. Your head thumps against his pecs, too weak to hold it up, lipping at the damp skin of his chest. 

“It hurts—” you bleat, tears pricking at the backs of your eyes. 

“I know, baby, I know,” John pants. He draws his hips back just to press forward again, deeper this time. Filling you up more than before. “I’m sorry, baby—I can’t, it’s just…too good. Shit.”

Resolve in tatters. Shattered like his willpower, like his determination not to fuck the girl twenty years his junior sleeping beside him in his bed. 

His hips pump up into yours, bouncing you in his lap. Each thrust plunging his cock deeper into your pussy. It’d be painful if you weren’t so wet, but you’re dripping, arousal making you leak around his shaft and slickening his way. 

Sleep still rattles around in your brain, but not even the fog of sleep can shake the ever intensifying realisation that you’re fucking your boss. No two ways around it—breasts naked against his hirsute chest; pussy wet and stuffed to the hilt with a big dick. Knocked senseless by it. 

The veins of his cock drag over the viscid walls of your cunt with every thrust. He must like the involuntary noises you make because he loses his rhythm when you cry out, growling out a string of unintelligible curses. His body feels bigger like this somehow, biceps and forearms bulging where they’re wrapped around your waist, hips forcing your legs to spread wide around him, the ache sinking deep into your muscle, into your bones.  

When you look up at him, his eyes are more hooded than usual, the blue of his irises so dark that they’re almost black. 

“Such a good girl,” he grunts, big arms like steel bands around your waist, holding you tight to his chest so you have nowhere to run. “Jus’ let…jus’ let daddy come and—oh Christ, fuck, fuck…—jus’ lemme come and we’ll go back to bed, okay, sweetie?”

“I’m gonna…” you pant, trailing off when he gets a little rough, pumping harder up into you. The sound of your pussy squelching around his length makes your eyes roll back, mouth hanging open. 

“Yeah, yeah, you—you come too, baby. Jus’ need to take the edge off, both of us.”

You squeal when he reaches a hand down to dig his fingers into your butt cheek and it makes you tense up, walls tightening around his dick. One well-placed swat hard enough to make the flesh of your ass jiggle and you come, clenching up so tight that his next few thrusts are slowed by your spasming walls, forcing him to really cram his cock into your hole. 

“Christ, that’s cute,” John growls, his pupils blown out. 

It hurts to come that hard; makes your belly cramp up and everything. Whatever gibberish spills from your mouth gets lost in the aftermath. 

That’s when the temperature goes from hot to blistering. The muscles of his thighs tense, straining with his impending release. Even his grip around your waist gets tighter, his self-control steamrolled under his approaching climax, oblivious to the way you squeal and squirm when it threads the delicate needle of being too much. 

“Sorry, baby,” he apologises, voice treading gravel. “M’gonna mess your pussy up a bit—”

“Wait—wait—” you gasp, trying fruitlessly to lift yourself up, his arms keeping you pinned tight to his chest. “You’re gonna—John, you’re gonna come inside me—”

His hips thrust up hard at your words, one last rough pump that has him digging his heels into the mattress and clenching his jaw, the veins in his neck protruding. You feel it flood inside you, hot spurts of cum right up against your womb. He curses when he comes, eyelids sliding shut, lost in the sensation of emptying himself into you. 

A few last, punishing thrusts that make your teeth clack together. More heat spurting into you. A murmured oh fuck before his legs slide back down the bed, spreading out over the mattress. 

The blanket is somewhere at the foot of the bed, all scrunched up and nearly dangling off the edge. You only start to shiver when the sweat on your back finally begins to cool. 

When he pulls you off his cock, you whimper, a hot flash snaking through you. Oh Christ did he plug you up good. Stringy, viscous cum leaks from your hole, leaving a little puddle on his thigh when you slide off his chest and to the side a bit. 

“Oh baby,” he tuts softly, reaching between your legs to feel where you’re wet and a little swollen. “Sorry, sweetheart…wanna get cleaned up?”

“No…” you rasp, so dazed that you can’t even lift your cheek off his chest. 

Exhaustion has never ridden you this hard before, but considering the circumstances…—perhaps you’re lucky to be conscious at all, is all you mean. There’s not a chance of you having enough energy to do anything as rigorous as showering though. 

“Okay, baby. Little kiss?” John asks in a murmur, lifting your head up by your chin and swooping down for a kiss. Not even giving you enough time to process his words before his mouth is on yours. 

His lips glide slick against yours, tongue slipping into your mouth like he needs a good, deep kiss to ground him. A wet twisting of tongues; a thick finger stroking up your neck. He can’t stop touching you. Running a hand up your spine and curving it back down over your ass. Featherlight touches meant to calm you down. His kisses grow sticky, lingering; each one almost the last until he pulls you in for another. 

“Go back to sleep, okay?” John says, still speaking low enough to push you back under. He smooths his hand down your back again. 

You fall back asleep with a load in your belly and your head in a tizzy. The you of tomorrow is going to have a lot to contend with from the you of tonight.

[gravegoer]

Hiii! English is not my first language so please forgive any mistakes. Could you do an imagine of Sevika where the reader and her have been together for a long time, and the reader almost dies in battle? (Like, she got shot in a place that bleeds a lot, which makes Sevika super worried) And she makes a little confession to the reader? Saying that she can't lose her and stuff like that. Sorry for the long request, it's my first time ordering 😭😭 Thanks anyway 🩷🤍🩷

Wont lose you ʚɞ

thank you for the request,! it was a bit rushed but I like it anyways let me know if you do :)

masterlist!!

Silco sent you on an important mission, taking down this factory all relied on you. Sevika had insisted on being by your side the entire time, but her request was denied.

Her and two other goons sat on the sidelines to make sure you could get in and out without being seen. No fight. No problem.

Why did she have to get stuck with these guys? She would have been better off down there helping you.

She sat outside the doube doors, one of the men lit a cigarillo for her. All was going according to plan so far.

You had gotten in and deactivated some machines. Now you needed to get out.

Sevika, your long time girlfriend was worried. Despite not wanting to admit it you could tell by the look on her face before you crossed the threshold to the factory.

You chuckled to yourself, thinking of how she patted your back on the way in as encouragement.

But you were confident you could carry this out without a hitch.

What you didn't know is there weren't just guards on the outside.

Your footsteps echoed throughout the seemingly empty factory. All you had to do was pour gasoline around the inside perimeter and on the machines and strike a match. It's not that hard.

You were bent over a machine, checking out the parts and gears before you feel a sharp pain of a blunt object on your back. Turning around you instinctively grab it.

A tall, lanky woman stood towering over you. Before she could pull it from your grasp, you kicked her in the stomach. She stumbled backward with a grut. When you dropped the bat, you were met with another thwack to your head.

You let out a muffled cry, biting your lip. You heard the woosh of an object and half-ducked-half-fell. An ambush. How mature. Another metal bat slammed into the ground beside your head. A broad figure stood over you, moving to hit you again. You rolled to the left but not without getting a swift kick to the stomach.

"Urgh." The wind was knocked out of your lungs. But you had no time to hesitate, jumping to your feet and blocking the next strike of the bat with your forearm.

You grabbed it and pulled it forward, bringing the weilder with it. Letting go with one hand, you slam your fist into their throat. The woman from before came back around, picking up her bat again. You met her metal bat with the one in your hands.

It's okay. You could win. The mission was still going according to plan. Two people with bats you could easily take on. You heard a familiar cocking behind your head.

"Drop it"

Fuck.

You didn't.

Instead, you turned to deliver a high kick to their head. But they managed to pull the trigger faster than you could land it.

Bang

You let out a shrill cry and clutched your side. Blood seeped through your fingers and stained your shirt.

"I told you to drop it," Their deep voice hissed.

You could hear three people rushing into the factory, footsteps echoing throughout the establishment. The person that shot you turned their attention to your team. The trigger happy idiot immediately started firing.

Bullets ricochet against the metal. Sometime amidst the chaos, you started to lose consciousness. Black spots littered your vision, and you finally dropped to your knees. A figure bent over you, yelling incoherent things. She jad a hand on your back, gripping your shirt between clammy fingers.

Looking up, you saw Sevikas distressed expression. Sweat dripped down her forehead, and there was a worried crease between her brows. She was shouting things you couldn't quite make out. Maybe something like "We need to leave" or "We are lighting it up." Maybe both.

She grabbed your legs, hand still on your back and hoisted you into her arms. You could feel her warm arm on your upper back and the hardness of her prosthetic against the back of your legs.

In your groggy state you looked up to Sevika, her teeth gritted as she ran throughout the factory with heavy steps. You could hear an explosion come from far behind you.

A ringing in your ears.

She looked down at you.

Then you passed out.

What seemed to be a few hours later, you groggly awoke. Light seeped into your vision and you attempted to get up. "Fuck," A sharp pain shot through your side.

Oh, right. You got shot.

You looked down to where you now held your side, but instead of blood like how you expected, there are sterile bandages. They wrapped around your now mostly bare torso.

Looking around the room, it seemed familiar to you. Right before you could put your finger on it your girlfriend came walking into the room, holding a glass of water.

Her eyes shot wide open, and she started walking a little faster towards your bedside. "Sweetheart, are you okay?"

You laughed at her suprise, "Yeah. Now that you're here"

Your voice was raspy and dry. You reached out for the water in her hand. She instead pushed your hand down and brought the cup up to your lips herself.

"I thought I'd lost you," She sighs in releif.

You took big gulps of water. She had just finished smoking. You could smell it on her hands. You pulled your lips away from the cup and she brought a thumb to your mouth to wipe away stray water droplets.

It was your turn to ask, "Are you okay?"

She let out a dry laugh, "You're the one sitting in bandages in my bed, and you're asking if Im okay?"

She brings her larger hand to your arm, rubbing circles into your skin. Her rough calloused hands brought some comfort to you.

"Im sorry I let that happen. I shouldn't have let you go in there alone. Silco was wrong," She grumbled, clutching her temples.

"Hey, I can do things by myself. It was an unfair attack." You chimed in.

"I don't care. I dont know what i would do if i lost you in there," She spoke firmly.

Her lips were pursed into a straight line. Trying to calm that tension you reached up to grab her face, bringing her lips to yours.

Her lips chased yours when you pulled away. Hissing as you grabbed your side again. "Shit, do i need to change your bandages?" She got up, already heading for the cabinets.

You were usually the one to dress her wounds, not the other way around. "Aww, you bandaged me up?" You cooed.

"Shut up"

[mayasaurusss]

hey how are you? could you write jinx x reader? something like jinx taking the reader's virginity. thanks ❤️🫰🏻

My favorite piltie

A/N: Hello! I am okay anon, thanks for asking! Just a bit sad that tomorrow Arcane will end😭.

I want to make it clear that I tried to do this before the next act drops, so I wrote it in two days and some things might not be very good, but I hope you will enojiy it nonetheless!!

Contains: female reader, detailed description of a wound, smut. All characters are 20+ years.

2,8 K/4 pages

When Jinx came knocking at your door tonight, you didn't think you'd end up in this position: her hands gripping at the skin of your chest and with her head buried in it.

The beginning of your night had kicked off with a strange twist when you heard a knock on your fifth floor appartment's window. You gulped down your fear and with a fast beating heart, looked past the window's glass to see a crouching figure with bright pink eyes staring at you. Any other occasion and you would have died on the spot, but you knew who she was. As soon as you opened the window, the figure let herself in, crawling out of the darkness and into the light of your room. "You are so nice letting me in, piltie" she said, and you don't miss the venom laced in the last word she spoke. "Your people aren't really known to be kind" her long fingers mess with the many little trinkets displayed on your shelves, checking their mechanisms and turning their gears.

"What do you want, Jinx?" you can feel a tingling sense of anger inside your skull at her continuous teasings.

You still remember the first time you had seen her, running from enforcers and covering her wounded shoulder.

You knew how ruthless they could be, especially since Miss Kirramman had taken control over the city. In a strange turn of events, you had found her curled up in one of Piltover's abandoned alleys and brought her with you to your home, taking care of her for the next few days until you found your window open and the blue haired criminal nowhere to be seen. During that time, you grew fond of her and were sad when she disappeared. Some weeks had passed and your life continued to flow normally, until she showed up at your door again. You were actually kind of amazed by the fact that she managed to sneak inside the appartment's building without being noticed, but after the third time, when someone called the enforcers on her, she had begun to climb on the building's exterior and knock at your window instead.

"Oh nothing, just wanted to pay a visit to my favorite piltie" she falls back on your bed, sizing you up from head to toe with that smirk of hers that makes your heart beat faster. "That's all?" the mattress dips under your weight as you sit next to her, always keeping your eyes on hers. "Mhmm, maybe" she fishes something from a bag -one you've just noticed- and shakes it: a small glass globe filled with water and fake flakes of snow. The tallest buildings of Piltover reflect the warm lights of your room, making the city of progress look ethereal under the glass. But it wasn't the shiny buildings or the snowflakes that got your attention, but a small name made with metal and gear parts glued to the bottom of the globe. "No way...is this a real Valdiani?!" the shock in your voice makes Jinx's heart flutter, something that she has never experienced before.

She lets out a proud snuff of air from her nose, pushing her chest outwards, "Consider it a gift for my fav- shit!" the sudden swear catches your attention and you look over to see Jinx doubled over. "Jinx! What is going on?!" It's faint, but you can see her hands wrapped tightly around her left side, traces of blood seeping from between her fingers. "Oh shit! Jinx what happened?" she lets out a breathless chuckle, her skin suddenly far paler than normally. "Hah, just some gift the bluebellies have given me" she sucks in a breath when you move her hands, biting a scream away. A deep wound runs along her side, pus forming where her skin had been pulled back from the slash, bleeding red on your covers. You run outside of your room and collect gauze, antiseptic, healing creme and a glass of water.

"Here, bite this" you hand her an old cloth, which she promptly places in between her teeth. "Ready?" she nods, taking a deep breath and closing her eyes. The heat of your hand is the only thing that brings her comfort. She isn't ready though when you pour the liquid over her wound: it feels like billions of needles stinging and burning her flesh, making her want to vomit.

"There there, it's over..." you quickly dry her skin and massage the healing cream on her, finally finishing when you cover her stomach with the gauze. She releases a huff of relief, mindlessly tangling her fingers with yours. When the pain subsides, she realizes how close the two of you are. You on your knees, her panting and sweating, how close you are to her and how fast her heart is beating. It would take a second, just a second for her to reach for your lips and melt into you...

"Uh... I- uh, just-, what happened?" you try to not sound too shy but your voice gives your feelings away. "I..." Jinx's throat bobs and it seems that she'd rather curl herself up like a hedgehog than admitting whatever she did. "You know, the usual. Went on a walk, stormed a shop, stole some things, got the enforcers called on me and..." she gestures towards her side, "...this happened".

Jinx isn't clear with her words, but something about the blush on her skin hints at the fact that there may be something else underneath her facade. You might try at least, right? Reaching for the glass globe, you twirl it in your hands, watching the snowflakes fall on Piltover. "Jinx...did you get chased after stealing this?", she doesn't answer, but her shy silence is enough for you.

"Why? Why do this for me?" she pouts her lips before answering, still held back by some sort of pride. "W-what can I say? Anything for my favorite piltie...".

A heavy silence fills the room, of the kind that is difficult to bear.

You can't believe it. You just can't believe that she'd be so reckless, so stupid! It's difficult to bite your anger back, but you do so, and instead of crying or screaming or scolding her, like Jinx thought you were going to do, you just hug her tightly against your chest. Your grip is so strong against her that she feels like she'll choke on it.

But you are so warm in comparison to her body, so, so warm. For the first time in a while, after Silco's death, after Vi's betrayal, after everything went to shit, she feels like she can breathe. And so she does, inhaling your scent in between, tasting it on her tongue. When you pull back, Jinx's eyelids are heavy with want, her mouth slightly open and her skin red.

It takes a second for her lips to push against yours, for her hands to come up and grab your face and pull you down towards her. The kiss is surprisingly tender for it to be Jinx's: you expected teeth and tongue, not pecks and soft touches. The way she sighs and runs her hands on your chest has you keening for her. "Jinx..." a small line of spit connects your lips, and before you can say anything else, she wipes it off on your bottom lip and sighs, "You know what piltie? I think I deserve something too".

Blinking at her a couple of times, she groans at your naivety and continues while taking your cheeks in her hand. "It has been a hard day for me: running from enforcers, bleeding all the way here... I think I deserve a gift too".

And that's where you are now, naked from the waist up with Jinx on your lap, diligently taking what's hers. The way her tongue teases your nipple is something to die for. It seems all her softness has died with the kiss you shared before, now tugging and biting every part of you. You gasp as she bites your nipple, leaving the indents of her teeth on the delicate skin.

"If I knew I could see you all shy and fidgety-" she tugs your left nipple with her long fingers, smiling cruelly when tearing a gasp from you, "...I would have done this earlier". Her lips leave your right nipple, spit chilling the skin, before she teases both of them with the point of her fingernails, moving and tickling them.

Jinx lets out one of those cruel laughs of hers before diving right back on your nipple, giving it one last kiss and moving towards your stomach. She kisses and strokes every one of your scars, every mole or freckle, every inch of skin, until she comes across the hem of your pants. "N-No wait, Jinx..." you place your hand on her forehead, strands of blue hair falling in between your fingers. She halts immediatley at your discomforted voice, billions of little alarms going off in her head and an attentive yet scared look in her eyes. "What is it?".

"I... I have to tell you something" and with that, her heart beats faster and faster and that obnoxious voice inside her head speaks; 'You've hurt her' and 'Look at what you've done' and 'Did you really think she would genuinely like you?'. But your voice is stronger than theirs. "Hey? Is everything alright? We don't have to do this" in the meantime, your hand cups her cheek, thumb stroking at the pale skin. "Yeah I- I am okay. And I want to" her own fingers close in on you and she takes a moment to breathe. Your own warmth is one of the only things that can make her calm. When the voices blur away and only you and her are left, she opens her eyes again, your reflection sharp inside their pink. "What do you have to tell me?" now it was your time to take a breath, because knowing Jinx, she could have two reactions over your news: making fun of you or absolutely losing her shit. "I... I am a virgin".

She takes a moment to process the information and then lets out a wheezing laugh, making blood rise quickly to your face. "That's it?! I thought I accidentally hurt you or something!". The only thing you can do at this point is pout and look away offended. "Oh come on toots" her hands take a hold of your face before turning you to her, who is smiling softly and with tenderness. "I am just kidding. Don't be so moody. And besides..." she captures your lips, biting and licking and sucking until they darken, leaving a faint trace of blood where her teeth were, "...It's so fucking hot".

The descent to get to her prize is tedious and long, but Jinx can't help but want to savor each one of its steps. Her fingers finally hook on the hem of your pants and pull down, revealing your naked thighs to her; the only thing stopping her from claiming her prize is the fabric of your underwear. "Wait a second..." despite how cute you look to her, Jinx rolls her eyes at yet another one of your attempts to stop her. "What, toots? You don't want me to fuck you?" your eyes widen when she so bluntly says that, without an ounce of embarrassment on her face, but continue. "What?! N-no I want to....it's just that..." you eye Jinx's position on the floor. "The wound might be painful if you crouch... I don't want you to hurt yourself".

"So, what do you want me to do?". You look back between Jinx and the plush, comfortable bed, a lightbulb popping off on your head. "Lie on the bed", you say, making Jinx blink a few times before processing and understanding your intentions. "Ohh, I didn't take you for the kinky type, toots". She crawls over the bed, making sure to look as alluring as possible, then lies down with her head pressed on one of your pillows. "There. Do you like this more?" the way that she's so smug about it, with that stupid smirk of hers, makes you want to choke her to death.

"Shut the fuck up", you follow her, placing yourself on each side of her head, feeling her hands rise on your tighs to curl on the soft fabric she so wishes were to disappear. "Hmhm, alright" she eyes the patch of cloth that has begun to show a wet stain, images of what she is going to do to you already flashing in her mind. But this position prevents her from sliding them off without you having to move away from her, and she'd rather keep you and your pussy here. "You know, as much as I love how cute you look with these..." you only have a brief moment to see a malicious glint in her eyes, before she tears your underwear apart, leaving you naked in front of her "I'd much rather have you bare". "Jinx! I just told you to shut up!" it doesn't help that she doesn't mind you and whistles loudly, making you feel more and more embarrassed. "And I -shut up!-. And-and those were expensive! Do you know how-!" but all your words die in your throat when she, with a strength you didn't know she had, pulls you flat against her mouth.

She licks your clit like a starved woman, like it will be the last meal she'll ever have. She doesn't dive right in your pussy, instead takes her sweet time to torture you, making you wish she'd just fuck you already. "Jinx...please, I-" she opens her eyes to see you above her, naked and panting with pleasure, something she only ever dreamt of seeing.

She can't say no to her favorite piltie. Her cold hands grab your ass, propping you up in a new angle on her face so you can't move, but she can do everything she wants to. She spends the next minutes milking your pleasure out of you, before pushing one finger slowly inside of you. You gasp in pain at first, a small trickle of blood wetting your skin and her fingers, and after a few minutes, feeling need arise from the depths of your guts. Jinx's eyes widen when she first feels you move atop her fingers, riding them messily; and she already has a new idea. "No, none of that toots" with her left hand, she yanks your hips down on her fingers, preventing you from moving further. Her next words feel like ice cold water on naked skin; "I won't make you cum if you do it again" and as if that wasn't bad enough, she emphasizes her point with a trust of her fingers. "You will be a good girl, won't you?".

"Yes, yes, yes I will be a good girl..." her smile is all you see before she disappears underneath your thighs. As soon as you get used to the alien feeling of her fingers inside of you, her pace is unrelenting; fast and hard, torturing your clit with her lips. She takes your hips and places your slit directly onto her tongue, forcing you to grind down on it. When you start to wheeze from her touches, she decides to move onto the next phase of her plan. "Hey baby, get up a sec" you would rather keep on grinding on her tongue, but comply anyway. You get up, putting ditance between your slit and her mouth, but while you do, she directly shoves in her fingers, making your legs almost give out. With her other hand she pushes you until your ass is flat against her lap. "Come on, bounce" you don't let her repeat herself twice, already fucking yourself on her fingers at the best of your abilities. What she's seeing is far better than anything she could have ever dreamt of: her favorite piltie bouncing up and down her fingers, eyes heavy and panting above her. And your movements on her own crotch only make her feel more and more euphoric. Oh, if only she could feel you... When she curls her finger on that spot that has you keening, you finally come undone; finger intertwined, billions of stars exploding beneath your eyelids and electricity coursing through your veins. You collapse on her, skin against skin, puffing and gasping for each breath. Your whines reach Jinx's ears and right now, she wants nothing more than to tear orgasms upon orgasms from you, but she'll have to wait.

You roll over, taking a place near her on the bed, shivering from the intensity of your first time. And when Jinx, with a horrifyingly both sweet and sadistic smile turns to you, excitement clear on her face, your pussy clenches around nothing and your blood turns to ice. "So, wanna go again?"

[hiraethwrote]

contents : hurt to comfort, no pronouns but written with f!reader in mind, vent post ngl, very self indulgent, reader is going through it, no use of y/n wc 509 an : yeah just a little vent bc life is kinda shit atm but it's okay <3 pushing through

“please tell me what i can do to help.”

satoru's voice comes out thin, words shaping like a desperate plea as he holds your hands in his — his grip is tight, erasing even the idea that he might let go.

you take another sharp breath in hopes to steady it so you can give him an explanation of sorts, but you’re unable to. your jaw snaps shut as quickly as you opened it, chin quivering as the sobs bubble up in your throat again.

his eyebrows narrow in slight despair, something he tries to hide — because he wants to be there for you. the worry he feels is tugging at his skin, but he won’t let himself succumb to it, knowing you need him to be your rock — and he will be.

one of his hands leave yours to graciously cup your cheek, thumb moving on autopilot along the soft lines of your cheekbones. you immediately melt against his palm as the tears continue to roll down your face, chest hiccuping along with your strangled cries.

“you know there’s nothing i wouldn’t do, so just say the words, and i’ll do it!”

your nostrils flare as your lips force into a tight smile, eyes blinking rapidly to dissolve the tears in order to nod weakly — but as you do, you’re not even sure he picks up in the gesture as another sob shoots past your lips.

your fists fall to your lap as his other hand lets go, only for it to cup the other side of your face. slowly and carefully, satoru guides your face closer to him before he gently places his forehead against yours, his soft, white locks tickling your skin.

“close your eyes,” you do as he says. “breathe with me.” and you do.

reaching deep within yourself, you try to push all your sorrows aside and let your body focus solely on satoru's body sitting right in front of you, his care for you communicated clear as day in his gentle cradling of your face.

in unison with him, you take deep breaths, letting your lungs reunite with the oxygen they’ve been chasing so sorely for the past twenty minutes as you’ve been spiralling.

“in,” satoru says softly, hearing how he inhales through his nose, “and out,” his warm breath fanning your skin as he does.

you do it together a few times until a ringing silence fills your ears, no more deep breaths occupying the space anymore.

reluctantly he pulls away, resulting in you carefully creaking your eyes open to meet his kind pools of cerulean blue, greeting you with compassion.

“whatever it is, we will fix it.”

the wording is simple, but the meaning transcends way beyond that — we — we will fix this. not you. it’s not just you who have to go through it. no, with the simple choice of words, satoru promises he’ll walk this road with you. there’s no reason to fear, because you won’t face it alone.

“i’ll make sure of it.”

©hiraethwrote 2024 . all rights reserved. reposting, translating and otherwise plagarisim is prohibited

[cryptid-crow-writing]

Mmmm. Can I add to this? Let me just:

At the cry from the English Alcoholic Occult Conman, Jason gives a deep giggle. “Yeah, sorry about that, but you really should be careful of how you handle your soul. Did you know they can be sold, bet, and traded? I happen to be very good at poker and know some very powerful people,” Jason offers.

The look on Constantine’s face in reply as he pales causes Jason to giggle harder. Jason ends up bent over his knees and needing to take gasps of breath as he tries to stop laughing. “Oh, fuck! I haven’t laughed that hard since the day I first got it! Granted I didn’t need to breathe then. Oh, but the look on your face. Oh, Danny’s gonna love that. I’m so glad my helmet records video feed.”

Bruce, baffled by Jason’s reply, snaps, “Red Hood, why and how? I suggest you explain.”

Jason, clearly smug, complies, “Okay. I’ll spill. You know, I used to be dead, was for quite a while. Well, I happened to make some friends while on the other side. One of them just so happens to be Lady Gotham herself. She’s quite proud of me, actually. So she liked to show me off. Well, she brought me an’ another of my friends to a poker match between multiple occult beings. I know how to play poker, but Danny, my friend, did’t. I agreed to play a match to show Danny how. Well one thing led to another, and Mama Gotham fought off some very pissed off demons while Danny and I flew off with our spoils. I got ahold of one of John’s contacts that day. I’ve been hunting more down ever since, with a little help of course now that I’m alive again.”

After Jason finished explaining, a series of face palms and laughter go through the group of gathered Justice League members. Wonder Woman, having face palmed, sighs deeply with a defeated yet bemused smile. “Oh goodness,” she mumbled clear refraining from laughter. “Some days I question why I left Themyscira.”

Flash is bent over his knees, wheezing in laughter, while Hal Jordan floats beside him, gripping at his abdomen as he laughs, before falling to the floor with an, “Oof, ooooow.”

Aquaman has his hands on his hips with his head tipped down, biting on his lip trying to refrain from laughter. Black canary rubs the bridge of her nose with a sigh, grimace, and an arm crossed along her chest. Martian Manhunter stands, simply bewildered.

Batman has simply covered his face. He’s clearly put out by the reminder if how chaotic his kids clearly are.

“Nnnn,” is all Bruce can seem to get out as a grumble.

DPxDC

Jason Todd owns a part of Constantine’s soul. From when he was dead and in the realms he played poker against a demon or something and won it.

Fast forward to him being alive and seeing John in the watchtower or something and I HC that you can tell someone owns your soul you feel it or something. And so in horror John realizes Red hood owns a share of his soul. John having no idea how this guy owns it.

Idk if it’s known that Red Hood is Jason or not

Learns his soul was traded and is disgruntled to learn that.

[livinghalfway]

Right Reasons; Wrong Kid

Summary: Batfam thinks Damian is being kidnapped when they see Danny getting manhandled into a car by Vlad; Danny loves to make Vlad's life difficult and puts up a fight getting into the car.

Word Count: 1450

Being in Gotham was the last place Danny wanted to be today, especially when he had to be here with Vlad. The fruitloop had somehow convinced his parents that he should go to this stupid three day business conference with him.

While Danny can't make any decisions right now he can certainly make Vlad regret his. Which is why Danny doesn't feel an ounce of embarrassment at what he is currently doing.

"Daniel, get in the car." Vlad hissed at him with a tight smile as they both stood outside of the building the conference was being hosted in.

"No." He said; even going as far as to take a step backwards to further spite the man in front of him.

It was clear Vlad was losing his patience with him if the subtle flash of red in his eyes is anything to go off of. "Daniel, I won't ask again. Get in the car now, or I can drag you in. The choice is yours, but you will be getting in this car one way or another."

"You really gonna drag a kid into your car in front of all these people you're trying so hard to impress?" Danny looked from side to side at all the people congregating on the sidewalk and steps as they wait for their vehicles to arrive.

"I'm hardly the first person they've seen that has had to deal with a stubborn child refusing to listen." Vlad says as he takes a threatening step forward, "Now get in the car."

"No."

Seemingly annoyed but not surprised Vlad takes a deep breath before his hand, like a snake, strikes forward and grabs a hold of him before beginning to pull. Just as quickly though Danny is trying to pull away with just as much strength. Quickly taking a moment to look around he sees that others are already starting to look in their direction; perfect.

With him distracted though Vlad was able to get a sharp tug on him causing him to stubble towards the car. Before he can fall into the car though Danny is shooting his foot forward, firmly planting it down as his hands land on both sides of the open car door.

"Gonna have to try harder than that, fruitloop. I can't make it too easy for you." Danny teased as he fought against Vlad’s pushing.

Vlad doesn't say anything back to him besides giving a low growl. This situation is clearly not going the way he wanted to and Vlad’s frustration was starting to show, and Danny was determined to watch this man break in front of all these people he so desperately wanted to impress.

He locked his arms and knees when he felt Vlad start pushing harder against his back. Preparing himself to jump to the side the moment Vlad loosened his grip even slightly. What he wasn't prepared for though was for the weight pushing against him to suddenly disappear.

"What is going on here?" A deceivingly friendly voice sounds out behind him.

Before Danny can realize what has just happened though a much stronger hand is gripping his shoulder and yanking him away from the open car door. Finally able to see more than just the car's interior Danny see's that three other men are now standing by the car.

Two of them, a teen not much older than himself and a middle aged man, are standing in front of him as if forming a wall between him and Vlad. Who is being held in place by the third man.

Danny can see that Vlad was just as thrown off by these strangers as he is based on the startled look on his face. What confuses him though is when instead of becoming angry like he expects Vlad only looks surprised as he takes in the three guys with them.

"Bruce Wayne!" Vlad announces with a tight grin, "I was just trying to get my son to cooperate with me and get in the car. I'm sure you understand how teenage boys are."

"I'm not your son!" Danny instinctively yells out; no way in hell was he going to let Vlad tell people they were any way related.

It took him a second to register what name Vlad had even said.

Bruce Wayne? He remembers Sam and Tucker talking about that guy and his family when they found out he was going to Gotham. Which means if he's remembering correctly then the young man next to Vlad is most likely Dick Grayson and the older teen next to him is Tim Drake.

Without looking at him Bruce leans towards him and whispers, "Shh Damian, let me handle this."

Wait. What?

"I'm not-" Danny tried to say that his name wasn't Damian, but was quickly interrupted before he could.

"Damian, quiet." Bruce lowly growls; still not moving his gaze to look at Danny. "Actually, Mr. Masters, you'll find that this is my son, and I don't think you should be putting your hands on him."

Vlad looks from Bruce to Danny and then back to Bruce, "While I do agree that you and Daniel share some resemblance this is not your son Mr. Wayne."

It seems Bruce wasn't going to entertain Vlad's "lie" because he still doesn't bother to even look at Danny. Tim on the other hand seems to consider what Vlad said, and turns to actually look at his face.

Danny almost laughs out loud when he sees shock immediately overtake Tim's face. At least one of these fruit loops is smart enough to recognize that he isn't the youngest Wayne.

"Bruce, this isn't Damian." Tim states with wide eyes still locked with his.

Upon hearing this the other two Wayne's finally take a hard look at Danny for themselves.

"Oh my God B, that's not Damian!" Dick exclaims before releasing his hold on Vlad.

Bruce on the other hand is frozen in shock as he stares at Danny as he comes to the realization that the boy in front of him is in fact not his youngest son. Snapping himself out of his stupor, the older man finally addresses Vlad. "Mr. Masters, my deepest apologies. It seems this young man and my son look remarkably alike, and I assumed the worst when I saw him fighting to get into the car."

Vlad takes a step forward towards Danny clear with his intentions of getting them into the car now, but before he can grab him Bruce is once more taking a step in front of Danny. "I would actually like to have a quick word with Daniel if you won't mind."

"And why is that?"

"I have a son his age after all, maybe I can help ease this teenage rebellion phase, and cause less fights when it comes to getting in the car."

Danny must have been more focused on the growing argument in front of him more than he thought because he ends up slightly jumping when he feels a sudden hand on his shoulder. Looking to his right he sees that Dick is now standing next him with a soft smile. "Daniel, right?"

“Danny actually, and you’re Dick?”

"Yup! That's me," He gestures to the boy standing on Danny's other side, "and this is Tim. Sorry about all this; we thought our brother was being kidnapped."

"Do I seriously look that much like him?" At this point Danny had to meet Damian if the guy's family was even confusing the two of them.

Tim is giving him a concentrated look when he replies, "It's like the two of you could be twins or maybe even clones. The eye color is the biggest difference between the two of you."

If Danny didn't know any better he would think Tim was accusing him of being a clone based on the tone of his voice. He knew Gotham was weird, but he didn't think he would have to worry about cloning here. "While I was adopted when I was pretty young, but I think I'd know if I had a twin or if I was a clone."

"Crazy things happen all the time in Gotham."

Well, that doesn’t sound ominous at all. Danny can't believe saying this, but it's probably time to get Vlad's attention and get the hell out of here. He already has one crazy fruitloop to worry about; he doesn't need more. "Vlad, I think we really need to-."

“Father, what is the meaning of all this?” A new voice interrupts him, and when he sees who it is truly shocking to see a mirror of his own face. The other is also now looking at him with something akin to shock and grief.

“Damian?”

“Danyal.”

[wandamaximoffsbadgirl]

Scarlet Moonlight

Vampire!Wanda Maximoff x Werewolf!reader

A/N: Just bullet points to something I might expand on. So please feel free to ask about these two because I have more than just this in mind~

-Wanda hates humans.

-Wanda is told to get a human pet by Nat.

-Wanda refuses and goes out to go find a meal.

-Wanda lets her eyes scan over the club, trying to pick the best meal

-Then she sees you, grinding up on some girl. A toothy grin. Canines are almost as sharp as hers.

-She tries to ignore you, but through everything she can hear the growl, you let out when the girl tries to leave a mark on you.

-She's next to you in an instant. A practical death grip on the drunk girl's shoulder.

-The girl runs off terrified of Wanda.

-You roll your eyes, and each of you can smell it immediately. What the other is.

-You try turning around and leaving to go find someone else to bring home.

-Wanda has made up her mind. Pulling you out of the club.

-Sure you were stronger than humans, but Vampires are stronger than werewolves in their human form.

-You find yourself in a penthouse. You're basically in the clouds. Everything smells metallic.

- “I was told to get a pet. I decided that was you.” She'd say.

-You scoffed, “Just because I'm a werewolf doesn't mean I'm a pet.” A low growl comes out.

-For weeks you fight Wanda as she holds you there captive.

-The whole time, she's sweet as you growl and bite when she gets too close

-But then it happens... your heat cycle...

-You feel like you're going absolutely mad with need.

-You try fixing the problem yourself, but it's not helping.

-Wanda even gave you heat pills to try and calm it down, but still, it didn't help

-Then it happened. She came to bring you food in the basement you were kept in, chained up.

-You got a wiff of her scent, and it wasn't that metallic smell you were used to it was what was beneath that which you hadn't noticed before; cherry blossoms.

-You grab her with a strength she hadn't seen before.

-You pull her close; flush against you and growl in her ear, "Let me do this, and you can drink."

-She agrees, and you're pulling her clothes off.

-Your member is throbbing as you slip it into her, and you are the farthest thing from gently. Luckily, a vampire can take it.

-When you knot and finish inside of her, you find yourself biting her neck, marking her as yours, something you'd never once thought about doing to someone.

-She returns the bite in kind with her own, the two fangs sinking in as you feel her drinking your blood.

-You continue rutting and whining as she drinks.

-You wake up in a bed you don't recognize, silk scarlet sheets, the room is dark with just a little light filtering through the sides of blackout curtains.

-You turn over to find Wanda there, sitting up and reading a book.

-She looks at you with a soft smile, "Feel better?" Her voice is just as soft as she reaches out.

-Her fingers are freezing but gentle as she pushes some hair behind your ears and gently scratches.

-Everything she has done with you since bringing you here has been soft and gentle.

-It has you melting, making satisfied noises as you push into her hand, your eyes closing.

[moonlight-prose]

smoke and ash

a/n: this is based entirely on a post made by the amazing @cavillscurls and i was given permission to write it for her cause the idea actually made my brain go numb. plus just the thought of this man having an oral fixation paired with someone who also has an oral fixation?? beautiful. filthy. spectacular. it's quickly written cause i had the inspo at the time and really didn't want to lose it. so enjoy!

summary: cigar smoke trailed after him with every step, his mouth always desperate for something to wet, something to bite down on. and you with the match between your teeth indulged him every which way.

word count: 1.4k+

pairing: old man!logan howlett x f!reader

warnings: EXPLICIT SO MINORS DNI 18+ ONLY!!, oral fixation, spit kink, choking, dry humping, desperate!logan, overstimulation, cigars, they're fucking messy, dirty talk.

A dark stain of saliva coated the base of a match as you sat sprawled on his leather couch. Your teeth dug into it, creating an indent that would last until you decided it was time to strike the phosphorus and let it burn down. Sometimes they snapped. Other times you tossed them in the trash. Tonight you were intent on lighting it up—solely for the cigar currently stuffed in between his own lips.

He sucked at the end thoughtfully most nights. Glasses perched on the edge of his nose, a book he'd read a hundred times over propped in one hand—whiskey in his other. Half of it was already burnt through. Used within the span of a few days before stubbed out and saved.

“Interesting story?”

The soft hum was all he offered, his eyes flicking back and forth between the lines even though he could recite the words from memory. The pages were worn from use, spine cracked every which way, and you often considered buying him a new copy. If just to give the story a chance to breathe in his mind. Sink beneath the depths of memories that still floated along the surface—seeking to ruminate in the cracks of chaos.

“Logan.”

“Bub?”

“What does it taste like?”

At last he looked up, eyebrows lifted and fingers moving to drag the sticky wet cigar out of his mouth. “This?”

You nodded. “Good or bad or…”

“Better than those fuckin’ matches,” he scoffed, pointedly glaring at the splintered wood between your teeth—a nervous habit you had yet to kick. “C’mere and find out.”

Scrambling off the couch a bit too quickly, you found yourself perched in his lap, legs straddling his hips with a smile painted across your lips. He removed the match, flicking it into the discarded ashtray with contempt—happy to have your mouth empty and waiting. Only to place the soaked butt against your tongue, his tongue swiping across his bottom lip at the sight. You always imagined what the flavor resembled. Until it finally dawned on you.

This is how it tasted to kiss him. The bitter tang of the cigar muted by the flavor of the whiskey he drank and the mints he chewed in his spare time. You sucked on the remnants of his saliva, your mind lighting up at the feel of it. Of having something stuck between your lips, a thing you could fixate on.

“Taste’s like me don’t it?”

You nodded, shifting against his body as the first spark of heat began to slowly meld with the rest of your senses.

“Good girl,” he mumbled, the book forgotten to the side in favor of his hand sliding along your throat, thumb catching just beneath your chin. “Suck on it harder yeah? Want it to taste like ya when I smoke it again.”

A whine cracked in the back of your throat, your hips catching on the zipper of his jeans. “What about you?”

The mumbled words caused spit to drool down to your chin, his eyes tracking the slide of it with a heavy gaze. He wanted to lick it up. Swallow down what you offered. But the sight kept him transfixed—your tongue sliding along the end of the cigar as if it were his cock. Soaking it in your taste enough to drive him a bit closer to the edge, his other hand suddenly a harsh grip on your ass.

“I got what I need,” he replied with ease. “Yeah?”

You nodded, catching the glaze of desire in his dilated pupils. He wanted more than an empty mouth. The cigars appeased a side of him no one saw, a man who ached for something to bite down on, someone to taste even in the most mundane of ways. He was your guard dog looking to chew, to gnaw, even if spit flew out of his mouth with a feral edge of desperation. And with a grin, you stuffed three fingers into his mouth right down to the knuckle.

He took them with a moan, tongue laving over the length of them as his hips bucked up into yours. The hot cavern of his mouth and wet slide of his tongue drew out a sound you never knew you could make. A biting grunt that made spit fly everywhere, splattering against his cheek to mix with his own.

Ripping the cigar from your mouth, you hastily licked around his full mouth. “Suck harder for me baby.”

They met the back of his throat, choking him enough to force his head back. His eyes rolled, nostrils flared, and for a moment you felt the power dynamic shift. You were in charge. Telling him what to do to appease the ache of pleasure growing in the pit of your stomach. And it might have lasted. He very well could have given you complete submission if it weren’t for the lack of the cigar in your mouth.

A growl rumbled up from his chest, eyes flashing dark enough to send a thrill down your spine, and before you could fix your mistake he rectified it for you. Three fingers—to match your own—were pushed harshly against your tongue, hooking behind your teeth to drag your face closer to his. You didn’t need to hear him to know what he wanted.

The intent blazed in his hazel eyes well enough: suck.

Through the haze of wanton lust you felt his hand begin to guide your hips along his crotch. The bulge of his cock straining against denim, pushing the metal zipper up for your clit to catch on each time. Clad in his flannel and cotton panties, you found yourself plummeting towards the burning ache that built faster than you could comprehend.

You ripped your hand from his mouth, burying the spit soaked fingers into his hair to grip him close. But it never remained enough. He wanted to delve beneath your skin. Seek the warmth that seeped from your body where his fingers kneaded and pushed to drag you to a fro. His teeth latched onto your shoulder, the sweater pulled to the side while his fingers met the back of your throat, choking you with their size.

A cry slipped past his knuckles as you humped his clothed cock—dragging yourself inch by inch towards the release you could practically taste. It clung to the tip of your tongue—the saccharine flavor intertwined with the tobacco musk of his fingers. You swallowed around them, drool spilling down your throat and pooling at the top of your breasts.

“That’s it,” he gasped, a line of bites trailing right to the juncture of your neck, his spit smeared across your skin. “Gonna cum for me?”

You whined harshly, body going taut as your clit pulsed rapidly with the impending wave of bliss that tugged sharply on your spine. The pain of his teeth puncturing hard enough to draw blood dragged a knife through the thin strand  of resistance. And you came with his name at the back of your throat and white bursting behind tightly shut eyelids.

“Yes. Fuck–” His growl ran down the length of your spine, body trembling in his tight grasp. “That’s my girl.”

Unconsciously your nails punctured the skin at the back of his neck and with a jolt, he groaned long and ragged against your throat. A dark wet patch formed beneath his jeans as you soaked him with a spit filled cry. The pleasure wrung your body dry, pulling the final dregs of your energy straight from the source. Your chest heaved, mouth a gentle suckle at the very base of his fingers, and Logan could feel you begin to collapse forward into his chest.

“You really like when your mouth is filled,” he mused, lips curling into a smile.

Nodding, your voice was a content hum—his fingers dragging at the back of your teeth, tracing their shape. A kiss was pressed to your head, body slumping further into the chair with you atop him.

“Gonna get you some more matches in the mornin’,” he mumbled lazily. “My pretty girl needs a treat for being so good.”

Your heart fluttered, eyes glistening with the devotion you’d never dare to hide. The love that burned with the power of an eternal flame. Settling into his body, you felt his hand drag along the expanse of your thigh. Calming the storm in his mind—a catastrophe you longed to weather with him.

You were the balm to his weathered soul.

A permanent fixation of smoke and ash that surrounded his charred and splintered heart that burned for you.

[girllblogging777]

hi congrats on 1k!! can i please request a cinnamon tinged tale with mattheo riddle with a scenario where they have a fight and go to bed seperate but they both can’t sleep without each other!!

𝑈𝑁𝑆𝑃𝑂𝐾𝐸𝑁 𝑃𝑅𝑂𝑀𝐼𝑆𝐸𝑆 ˚ ༘✶

↳ bf!mattheo riddle x reader (angst, fluff)

↳ 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡 : 1.5k

𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦 :you and your boyfriend can’t sleep without eachother, but you had an argument

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

mattheo’s dorm was unnaturally quiet tonight. no whispers, no soft rustling of sheets, no stolen glances or quiet giggles. just silence, cold and deafening. he laid flat on his back, arms crossed behind his head, his jaw tense as he stared up at the dark ceiling of his room. the argument replaying in his mind on an endless, bitter loop.

he exhaled sharply through his nose. maybe he was an idiot like you had told him. scratch that. he definitely was. your words, heated and full of hurt, had ricocheted off the walls like a spell gone wrong. and instead of deflecting, instead of softening, he’d snapped back with the kind of sharpness he reserved for enemies. not for you. never for you.

but now you were gone. well, not gone-gone, but you weren’t here. you had stormed out of his dorm, muttering something about needing “space.” space. mattheo didn’t even know what to do with space.

his mind wandered to you. where were you now ? back in your own bed, curled up with that damn blanket you refused to replace no matter how many times he teased you about it? where you crying? did you hate him?

the ache in his chest tightened, like a hand gripping his heart. he turned to his side, punching the pillow beneath him in frustration. he needed you, your scent of cinnamon, your quiet murmurs before sleep, the way your hand would instinctively find his beneath the covers. without you, the room felt emptier than it had any right to.

across the castle, you sat cross-legged on your bed, staring out the window. the moon hung low, bathing the grounds in silver light, but your thoughts were anything but serene.

why had you said those things? you hadn’t meant to snap at him. it wasn’t his fault he was reckless, it was just who he was. you knew that, knew it better than anyone. but still, watching him flirt with danger, walking that fine line between thrill and disaster, it drove you insane. you cared too much to stay silent.

you sighed, hugging your knees to your chest. the bed felt too big, too cold without him. even on nights you two argued, you would always ended up tangled together, legs overlapping, breaths mingling. it was impossible to stay away from him and not to break the castle’s rules by sneaking into each other’s rooms past curfew. but tonight, you were alone.

minutes stretched into hours and you kept tossing and turning, thinking about him. at the same moment, mattheo swung his legs out of bed, running a hand through his messy curls. he didn’t care if he’d get caught. he didn’t care if you were still angry. he needed to see you.

suddenly, your bedroom door swung open and you turned around, eyes widening. “mattheo ?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. he stood there, unsure of what to say “i uh… i can’t sleep…”

“neither can i,” you admitted softly, watching him intently.

he stepped closer, his hand twitching at his sides. “i’m sorry, baby. i was a dick. you were just trying to look out for me and i lashed out, it wasn’t fair.”

your heart clenched at his honest words and you looked up at him, “i shouldn’t have pushed you, matt, i just worry about you too much. and sometimes, i feel like i care more about you than you do”

his brows furrowed and he finally reached out, his hand softly brushing against your cheek. “i do care. about me. about us. but i’m just… stupid sometimes.”

you couldn’t help but huff out a small laugh, leaning into his touch. “yup, you are.”

a ghost of a smile tugged at his lips. “does that mean i’m forgiven ?” you pretended to think a moment before answering, sighing. “only if you stay.”

and he didn’t need to be told twice.

moments later, you two were tangled together in your bed, your head resting on his chest as his fingered traced lazy, absentminded patterns on your back. neither of you spoke at first. the quiet felt sacred, too delicate to shatter. but mattheo couldn’t let it end there, not when he had so much to say.

“i don’t ever wanna go to bed mad at you again.” he murmured, his voice soft but heavy with meaning. his fingers stilled against your back, waiting for your response.

you tilted your head up, your chin resting on his chest as your eyes met his. “me neither,” you whispered back, “i hate how it feels, matt.”

he nodded, his hand moving to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing over your soft skin in the dark. “i know, love,” he admitted, “it feels wrong. everything feels wrong without you. i’m sorry i made you feel like i don’t care.” he paused for a second and you waited, silent.

“i care, baby. i care so much if scares the hell out of me sometimes.”

you could see it in his eyes, the way his walls had crumbled entirely for you and how painful that felt for him. mattheo riddle, who always unshakeably confident, was laying himself bare for you.

“i know,” you said in a steady voice. you reached up, your hand curling around his wrist. “but i’ll keep worrying about you, you know ? that’s not gonna change..”

he chuckled, the sound now and warm in the quiet room. “i figured, love. i don’t deserve you.”

“damn right you don’t,” you teased, your lips twitching into a genuine smile. then your voice softened “ but that doesn’t mean i’m going anywhere.”

the tension in mattheo’s body eased at your words, and he pulled you closer, his arms wrapping tightly around you as to shield you from the world. you felt the way his lips brushed against the top of your head, a soft gesture that made your heart flutter.

“i love you,” he said quietly, the words slipping out as naturally as breathing.

“i love you too,” you whispered back, your fingers clutching the fabric of his shirt as your heart pounded against your chest.

for the first time that night, the heavy weight between you lifted and the two of you stayed like that, your breaths syncing and limbs tangled in complete and utter peace. because no matter how messy you were, how much you clashed or stumbled, you always found your way back to eachother.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

a/n : tysm for this amazing idea ! tell me if you wanna be tagged and check out my 1k celebration for more !

@redeemingvillains @leona-hawthorne @shiftingwithmars @tateshifts @rose-of-the-grave @clar2aa @iris-qt @sp7-mr @deadghosy @deadsnakey @helendeath @jolly4holly @larmesdevanille @dexoq @shiftingwithleah @sunkissedscribbles @chelawrites @myunperfektstorys @yikesitslush @slut-for-fictional-men @romantasyreader28 @witchsrecs @mattiesgf @reidol0gy @kenjikishimotoswifey @2dloveshp @hisparentsgallerryy @riddlesgrl

[corrcdedcoffin]

request: jj x kook!girlfriend & they get caught fucking by the pogues so oops the secrets out🤭

18+ mdni

warnings: smut, barely proof read, nothing else i don’t think. it ended up being super soft. i’m in my feels i guess. hope u enjoy

gif not mine (obvs)

kooks vs. pogues.

that's how it was for as long as he could remember. he'd heard the way his dad talked about the upper class, how they were all crooks too. greedy, power hungry business men that prey on the working class for sport. 'you stay away from em', y'hear me?' he'd say.

and jj listened for the most part. the only time he'd interact with a kook was when it was time to take a couple swings — and get a few handed back. he'd never regretted a fight no matter how much trouble he'd get in for it, cause ultimately, it led him to where he was now. face between your legs, pulling moans from you as easily and flawlessly as a puppeteer pulling on strings.

"god, you're so good at this" you whined, gripping his hair.

it'd been three months to the day that he'd asked you to be his girl, and he was set on showing you how much you meant to him. making you feel it.

he licked a thick stripe all the way up to your clit, swirling and sucking before moving back down to thrust his tongue in and out of your hole, fingers massaging your thighs.

hooking one arm around your leg, he slowly inserted two fingers, not bothering to ease you into it before pumping them right into your sweet spot. your legs squeezed around his head as he continued to lick and suck your sensitive nub, making you swear like a sailor.

"tastes so good" he spoke lowly, barely pulling away to watch you squirm. "could do this all day."

you lifted your head to look at him, the way he was staring at you making you feel so.. seen. so vulnerable. he didn't say it, but you could see it in his eyes. feel it in how he touched you. he wished he said it.

grabbing his hair, you gently tugged him up to kiss him. his face was a mess, covered in a mixture of you and him. you gently wiped it away as he pushed his tongue past your lips, slowly pumping his fingers once again.

he kissed your jaw and down your neck, licking a thin stripe before tugging your earlobe between his teeth. “need you, j" you whispered. as much as you loved the way his fingers moved inside you, you could feel him rutting into your side, and you couldn't wait to have him.

he pulled away just enough to look at you, rubbing the tip of his nose against yours. another moment of sweetness that had you gushing for him. "as you wish," he whispered.

the two of you made quick work at removing the rest of your clothing, wasting no time in closing the distance between you once again.

now, jj was never one for intimacy. he never really liked to look when he was fucking, but this wasn't fucking. this... this was love. he knew it long before he got you here, in his bed at his best friends house. he climbed on top of you, rubbing every bit of flesh that he could reach as you pulled him in for another kiss.

he wanted to see you.

he spit in his hand and pumped himself twice, dragging the tip of his cock up and down your slit, poking it in your entrance just a little bit further each time. he was about to do it again, but you weren't having it. any other time you would have enjoyed the tease, but you needed him now. wrapping your legs around him, you pushed him all the way in.

loud moans escaped both of you, jj letting out a breathless chuckle. "jesus, baby," he threw his head back, unmoving.

you knew he was big. it may have been your first time having sex with him, but it wasn't the first time you'd seen it. you'd given him head before, but still, you weren't expecting to feel so full. even with neither of you moving, it felt good.

you wiggled your hips a little to signal you wanted him to move, but he was fast to hold you still. "w-wait, wait," he groaned, "jus' — need a moment."

you gave him puppy eyes, begging him to move. he traced his thumb across your bottom lip, and when you wrapped your lips around it and gently sucked, he thought he'd bust right then and there.

he couldn't deny you what you wanted after that. how could he? he was just a boy, after all. he started slow, pulling almost all the way out before going back in, hitting all the right spots and making you squirm already.

"feels good, j" you mumbled, gasping when he managed to push even further, a smirk on his face.

it wasn't long before you wanted even more, not caring that jj might not last as long as he wanted. if anything, you took it as a compliment. you pushed him back so he was sitting up, still inside you. your intent was to be on top while he laid back and relaxed, but this felt too good to stop.

he was so deep inside that the slightest movement made you shake. his arms wrapped around your back, one sliding up to the back of your head, gripping your hair. you had your hands on the sides of his face, taking in how fucked out he looked already. slowly, you began to ride him, turning him into a moaning mess.

it was pure bliss.

the way the course hairs at his base provided the perfect amount of friction on your clit, the way he touched you all over, how he looked at you. god, if he didn't stop looking at you like that, you'd end up pregnant.

his hands moved to your hips, helping you slide up and down on his cock, pushing you down harder. neither of you could help the lewd noises or strings of praise and babble escaping you. the two of two of you weren't necessarily being loud, but you were definitely caught up in your own world — in one another. you definitely didn't hear the door to john b's twinkie slamming shut outside, or the footsteps coming down the hall.

you did hear the shriek when the bedroom door opened.

it slammed shut again, footsteps running away down the hall. you halted your movements, you and jj looking at each other with wide eyes. he'd wanted to keep things a secret for a while, not wanting his friends to be judgemental and make him get in his head about his relationship with you. he already had enough to worry about, he didn’t need your feelings for him to be added onto that list.

"i didn't hear them come back" you said, looking from his bedroom door to the window.

you knew how he felt about the situation, he'd told you countless times that he wanted the whole world to know you were his girl, but he wanted to stay in the safe and secure bubble for a just little while.

he was still rock hard, a little twitch let you know he was unbothered. you looked at him with uncertainty, but he looked back at you with love. "i don't care" he shook his head before kissing you. he laid you back down on his bed before thrusting into you once more.

picking up the pace a little bit, jj rubbed firm, tight circles on your clit. "jay..." you moaned, a little too loud for comfort, his free hand moving to cover your mouth.

any other time, he'd love to be disgustingly loud just to fuck with his friends. he’d take pride in it — but this moment was just for the two of you.

"shh, baby, i know" he cooed, replacing his hand with his lips.

you could feel the tightness building in your abdomen, slowly at first, then all at once. you tried to hold it off, but he wouldn't let you.

"c'mon, pretty girl. come on my cock" his voice was so low and sultry, his thumb continuing its assault on your clit. that was all you needed to come undone.

you clenched around him, gummy walls pulsating and pulling his own orgasm from him unexpectedly. in the moment, neither of you cared he didn’t pull out — it felt too good to worry about it.

he reached down to kiss you once more, pushing your hair away from your face as he pulled away. "so pretty" he whispered, a small smile on his face.

you felt silly for blushing at that, considering everything the two of you just did (including getting caught), but you couldn't help it. you were about to say something back, like a you're pretty, which would've been kind of lame, but he spoke before you, saving you the embarrassment.

"let's get you cleaned up" he sighed, grabbing a shirt and getting to work. he could see his cum slowly dripping out of you, and it made him groan in both arousal and regret.

"what?" you questioned, sitting up to look at him.

he so badly wanted to push it back in, a quick daydream of you carrying his baby flashing in his mind, making him yearn. he knew better than that, though.

"nothin', just... probably should have done that" he showed you the cum covered shirt.

"yolo, i guess" you replied with a shrug, making him laugh. you were perfect, he thought.

once he cleaned you up, he helped you get dressed. it wasn't something you thought could be so sweet and considerate until now. he even put your socks on for you, placing a kiss on each ankle as he did so.

"ready to face the heat?" he looked up at you, hands loosely holding onto your ankles. you nodded your head.

"okay," he tapped your legs as he stood up, holding his hand out for you. "i think they'll be nice, but i can't make any promises." he placed a kiss on your temple before slowly leading you out of his room.

"you sure?" he turned back, playful look in his eye.

"just go," you rolled your eyes as you nudged him forward.

you trailed behind jj, a little nervous to be meeting his friends for the first time this way. but as he led you out into the porch, you were greeted with hoots and hollers, full of excited cheers exclaiming how happy they were for their friend.

of course, they'd teased you both relentlessly for the rest of the evening, but neither of you could find it in you to care. your relationship was no longer a secret, and it felt good.

don’t be shy, reblog!

[ofstarsandvibranium]

Feels Like Home

Fandom: Marvel (Mob Boss AU)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Summary: Bucky's world is filled with a lot of blood, death, and danger. But when he's with you, everything is filled with love, light, and gentleness. It's a feeling he didn't know he craved until he met you.

Bucky Barnes Masterlist

Bucky at home was a stark contrast to how he was out on the streets of Brooklyn. To the outside world, he was James Barnes, the fearsome head of the Barnes Family, the leading crime family in Brooklyn. But when it was just you and him, in your dingy apartment, he was your Bucky Bear, a soft man who loved to cuddle, cook you dinner, and watch rom-coms with you.

That's the Bucky you'd always see as soon as he was in your presence.

Right now though, he isn't your Bucky Bear. He's James Barnes and he's got death on his mind. In the shadows of the alleyway, you can see how he's pointing his gun at the man in front of him.

"You've given me excuse after excuse, Dalton. I'm sick of it. Where's my money?" he grips the man by the caller of his shirt, and pulls him in closer, the barrel of the gun staring him in the face.

"Buck," Sam murmurs Bucky's name.

You watch as Bucky looks to Sam and when Sam nods in your direction, Bucky follows. His eyes widen, "Sweetheart." He immediately pockets his gun and rush over to you.

"What're you doing out so late at night?"

Your dog, Taffy, jumps at Bucky's legs when he gets close. Bucky leans down and scratches the corgi behind her ears, "Hiya, girl."

"She had a lot of energy when I got home from work. So I figured a walk around the block would be good for her." Your eyes dart to Sam and the man in the alleyway, "Is everything okay?"

Bucky looks over his shoulder and then back at you, "Yeah. Just...business." He wraps a protective arm around you, leading you away from the alley, "Wait here. I'll walk Taffy with you and we have dinner."

He moves to pull away but you grip at his wrist, "Bucky, it's fine. I can walk the neighborhood by myself. Go handle business or whatever."

Bucky continues to walk back, "Stay there." At his command, Taffy immediately sits and he chuckles, "At least she listens to me."

When he heads back to Sam and the unknown man, they exchange a few words you can't hear. The man looks at you and that pisses Bucky off.

"Don't you fucking look at her," he says, forcibly turns the man's head to look away from you.

After some low words exchanged, Bucky walks away from them, with Sam dragging the man to the other end of the alley where a car waits.

"C'mon, baby," Bucky murmurs, his arm wrapping around your waist. Taffy is happy to continue her walk, as she prances a short distance ahead of you and Bucky.

There's a weird tension between you as you walk Taffy around the block and eventually back to your apartment. You shed your jacket and shoes, unleashing Taffy, and going straight to the kitchen.

Bucky follows you, leaning against the kitchen counter, "You okay?"

You nod, "Mhm. Sorry, I just-I forget sometimes that you're..you know."

"I see."

"I've never seen that side of you, so it was a little...jarring."

"Do you...want to break up?"

You look at him with wide eyes, "What? No! Do you?"

"No, but I told you who I was from the very beginning, baby. If what I do ever puts you off, I'll completely understand if you don't want anything to do with me."

You shake your head, "Bucky, that's not it. I still want to be with you. I just forgot who you are outside of here. I forgot that's actually who you are."

It was Bucky's turn to shake his head, "Nah, baby. That's not who I am. That's who I had to become in order to survive. But here?" he points to the apartment, "This is who I really am."

You hum, "So you're really a big lovey dovey teddy bear that loves to be the little spoon, cook me dinner, and cry at rom-coms?" Bucky playfully rolls his eyes at your teasing and you continue, "Okay, really though. Does anyone else know this side of you?"

He shrugs, "Not really because I never felt super comfortable to be myself until I met you."

You scoff, "Sap."

"Only for you," he leans in and pecks your lips, "You sure you're okay? Are we okay?"

"Yeah. We're good."

Bucky pulls you in, wrapping his arms around you in a tight hug. You nuzzle your face into him, letting his scent encompass you.

You felt at home.

[loganhowlettshousewife]

animal

chapter 6

friendly reminder that i am not a writer, i'm just a girl who loves logan howlett and wanted to write something exploring his animalistic side since i so rarely see it done. my first language is also not english, so please do not be rude when giving me any feedback.

warnings: swearing, smut, oral (fem!receiving), unprotected piv, my first time writing smut so i'm sorry if it's horrible

series masterlist │my masterlist

you’ve known three versions of logan so far. the feral, animalistic version of logan that seems to be at the core of who he is - without any memories, that’s the personality he reverted to, those were the actions he took when controlled only by his baser instincts. then there’s the version of logan you imagine he’s created over the years to deal with his pain, the one that drinks himself stupid and fights against his nature to make others more comfortable, terrified to hurt anyone, terrified that he’ll prove to everyone that he’s a monster.

this version of logan though, the one you see before you now, is as close as you’ve ever gotten to knowing the real him. a person's memories and experiences make them who they are, shape them as a person, and the same can be said for logan. but he’s no longer trying to hide what his mutation makes him, at least not as much as before. he’s not the innocent, loving man you’d brought into your home - you doubt you’ll ever get that exact version of logan back - but he expresses himself in a new way now.

he’s explained to you some of the conditions of his mutation, why he acts the way he does. it makes more sense to you now, why his face is always finding its way to your neck, pressed to the spot where your scent is the most pronounced, mixing your scent with his to mark you. it soothes him, to walk by you and recognise that even when he’s not at your side his presence clings to you.

it’s nice, watching him slowly let his guard down, opening up to you. you’re proud of him every time he mutters something about himself or his past to you, quickly and quietly as though he’s partially hoping you won't hear him.

“i love you,” he says, taking a break from kissing you to breathe the words into the shared air between you.

you smile back at him. the words are as easy as breathing. “i love you too.”

he kisses you again, loving and intimate, a hand going to your waist, gripping onto your flesh tightly as if you’ll vanish if he ever lets go. you’ll have bruises in the shapes of his fingers tomorrow, a reminder of his touch, of the way he worships your body. you part your lips for him, gasping lightly when his grip tightens, giving him free reign to explore your mouth with his tongue.

heat grows in your stomach, wetness flooding between your legs, insistent, and you grind down on his lap, feeling him growing hard underneath you. he’s big, you’ve seen him naked enough times to know, but it feels different with you pressed against him, much more imposing.

“need you,” he groans, fingers sliding under the elastic waistband of your sleep shorts, releasing it to watch it slap your skin. you gasp again and he chases the noise with his mouth, catching it on your lips.

he takes his time pulling your sleep shorts down your legs, reverently. there’s always a strange duality to intimacy with logan. he’s intense in everything he does, taking you apart multiple times a night, his gaze almost predatory as he explores your body. and yet he treats you like a queen, taking his time to make sure you feel good before he ever does anything for himself.

he spreads your legs open with his large hands, kneeling between your legs. he kisses up your thighs, so close to where you want him and you squirm.

“please, lo,” you beg, your hands in his hair.

he starts off slow, a consistent rhythm that has you begging for more, your moans growing breathier and louder until he can no longer control himself, eating you out like a man starved. his beard burns against your thighs, a delicious pain that only makes the pleasure more intense.

he adds one finger, the thick digit brushing against your walls, pressing against the spot inside you that makes you cry out. his fingers are bigger than your own, longer too, and he’s always much more effective at fingering you to an orgasm, able to give you what you need. he always knows what you need.

he adds a second finger, and that paired with the way his tongue drags against your clit, catching on the tip, has the pressure building inside you. 

your orgasm hits you like a wave, a slow crescendo and then you’re falling. you ride his face as you cum, using your grip on his hair to pull him closer to you, feeling his nose bump against your clit as you press your cunt against his mouth. you shudder as you come down from your high and logan pulls away, mouth and beard glistening with you.

he’s still nearly fully dressed, which you find absolutely unfair, so you pull his shirt off, tossing it aside, making quick work of removing the rest of his clothes until he’s gloriously naked. his cock is hard and proud, flushed and straining.

he needs you, and he tells you so, the words echoing between you, the sentiment going straight to your core.

you wrap a hand around his cock, stroking him a few times, running your thumb over the tip to collect the beads of precum and rub it down his shaft. he groans at the feeling, rutting into your hand. usually this is the part where you take him into your mouth, let him fuck your throat until you’re gagging around him and spit dribbles from your lips around his thick cock.

but you want something different today, you want more. you haven’t taken this step yet, you didn’t feel ready before, wanting to wait until you were at a point where your rocky, unlabeled relationship felt solid. now, you couldn’t imagine not being ready to share this step with him, to give him every piece of you, putting your life and your love in his hands and begging him to keep it, keep you.

“lay down,” you order him, letting go of his cock to shove lightly at his chest, not hard enough to actually move him - you’re definitely not strong enough for that - but he goes willingly, and you smile at how quickly he complies.

you’re not usually the one giving orders in the bedroom, but he’s always weak to your whims, regardless of how small or meaningless they might seem. he wants to make you happy, something he’s told you multiple times when you teased him about how willing he was to do anything you asked of him. you could easily make him submit to you in bed if you batted your eyelashes at him and asked nicely.

he watches you with dark, lustful eyes as you crawl over him, straddling his lap, grinding your leaking pussy against his hard cock. you both moan at the feeling of your wetness sliding against his length, at how ready you both are for this.

“i want you inside me,” you say.

“are you sure?” logan asks, breathless. he wants it, you can see how hard he’s fighting not to rut up into you, but he’s holding back. it makes you feel warm all over, the way he cares so deeply about you, never pushing your boundaries, never wanting to push for more than what you’ll allow. it makes you want him even more.

“i’m sure,” you affirm, “don’t think i’ve ever felt more ready for anything, actually.”

you line him up with your entrance and slowly sink down, feeling the stretch with every inch of him. you're thankful he stretched you out with his fingers, but you have to stop to breathe regardless when he’s halfway inside, the sound of your heavy breathing mixing with his own ragged pants as he fights to let you take the time you need.

finally you sink down onto him, a sigh escaping your lips when he’s fully sheathed inside you. you roll your hips to adjust to the feeling and logan growls, low in his throat. 

you lift yourself up halfway before sinking back down, a new rush of heat rolling over you when you hear the way logan groans. he holds onto your waist as you move, helping lift you so you don’t get too tired, but eventually you start to falter, unable to keep up the steady rhythm. you pout as your movements become slower, annoyed at yourself, but logan takes over the moment you can’t, rolling you over onto your back so he’s hovering above you.

you wince at the feeling of him slipping out of you, but as soon as he has you positioned on your back the way he wants you, he’s lining himself up with your hole again, fucking into you hard and fast.

“this okay?” he asks, though you doubt he needs the answer given how you’re whining and writhing underneath him.

his thrusts are relentless, a steady pace that he could probably keep up for days and days. he has wonderful stamina, something you’d learnt the first time you’d made him cum when his cock immediately hardened again in your hand, your eyes widening as you looked up at him. he’d shrugged and smirked as he explained he didn’t have much of a refractory period. “‘least not when i’m with someone as pretty as you,” he’d continued.

he’s using one hand to grope your breasts and the other sneaks down between your legs, rubbing circles over your clit. he’s hitting that perfect spot inside of you that has you seeing stars, and you can feel your second orgasm approaching, more intense than the first.

“fuck,” logan grunts, “y’feel so good, so tight.”

he looks wild, fucking into you like this, his eyes roaming over your body like a predator assessing his prey. you feel your stomach twist pleasantly at the thought. he keeps up his pace until you’re coming around him and even as you squeeze around him he doesn’t falter.

“logan!” you scream as he continues, overstimulation bordering on painful.

he grunts and growls, and you grip onto his shoulders, your nails digging into his arms. he moans loud when you accidentally draw blood from the intensity of the hold you have on him. you feel the blood welling against your fingertips and then the strange sensation of his skin stitching itself back together until it's smooth again under your touch.

“gonna breed you,” logan growls, and you babble incoherently in response. you’re not quite sure his words are even penetrating your mind. all you hear is the sound of his voice, the rough timbre of it. “gonna make you mine. my mate.”

“yes, yes logan, please, come inside me. need you!” his thrusts get more erratic as he gets closer to the edge, and then they falter for a moment and he’s coming. hot spurts painting your insides as he keeps fucking into you, shallow thrusts that push his cum deeper, closer to your womb.

he presses a kiss to your stomach, nuzzling his head into the soft flesh there. his breathing is as ragged as yours. you feel completely undone, your mind fuzzy and content, like you could stay right here forever and you’d be perfectly happy.

“that was amazing,” you say.

he looks worried now, eyes narrowing like he’s not quite sure he trusts you to be telling the truth, like what just happened wasn’t the best sex you’ve ever had in your life.

“you sure?” he asks, “that wasn’t too much?”

“no,” you smile, “i told you, i like when you act like an animal.”

you can feel his cock hardening again inside you, pressing against your walls. he moves his hips so you can feel it shifting with the change in position, at the perfect angle that he knows will make you scream. you watch his lips curl up, a dark smile that matches the darkness in his eyes as he stares at the way you’re trapped underneath him.

“do you?” he says, not a real question. you love when the feral side of him takes control, and you’re watching it happen now, can read what he wants from the look in his eyes.

yeah, you’re in for a long night. and you couldn’t think of anything better.

“you called me your mate,” you comment much later, feeling sated and boneless with your head resting on logan’s solid chest, feeling it rise and fall along with the steady pace of his breathing.

logan hesitates for a long moment. you can feel him tense underneath you, his muscles freezing in place, the smallest hitch in his breath that you wouldn’t have noticed if not for your close proximity. you don’t mind waiting for him to cycle through his thoughts, the words caught in his throat, seconds ticking by in comfortable silence until his frame relaxes once more and he pulls you in closer.

“i did,” is his only reply. short, succinct, waiting expectantly for your response, your reaction to a term that is distinctly animal-like. it’s also the first time he’s put any sort of label on your relationship, other than calling you “mine”, possessively whispering the word in your ear as if you’ll forget if he doesn’t remind you.

“what does that mean for us?” you ask, tracing patterns on his skin, forming each letter of your name with your index finger, “we’ve never actually said what we are, you know. and i can’t say i know the ‘human’ equivalent of the term mate. does this mean you’re my boyfriend? something else?”

“that’s a childish term,” logan says, lines forming between his brows as he frowns.

you smile, leaning in to kiss away the tension there, feeling the slight sheen of sweat that had formed over his skin while he fucked you, not quite dry yet. you should be getting up to shower, rinsing away the salty layer of sweat from your activities, throwing the ruined bedsheets into the laundry to be replaced by clean ones.

but you’re comfortable where you are now, avoiding the mess you’d made of the sheets by curling up on the other side of the bed, wishing you could push up closer to logan despite the fact that you’re already as close as humanly possible. if only you could crawl into his skin, break past his ribs and settle there, protected where no one else could ever reach you, tucked right against his heart.

“what would you want me to call you then?” you ask.

“for now, nothing,” logan says. in his eyes you see a battle, words and thoughts that you wish you could read, that you hope he’ll one day say aloud. “there isn’t a word that’s enough to describe this. one day i’ll be your husband, but until then, just say you’re mine. my girl.”

“are you proposing to me?” you laugh, eyes bright and smile pulling at your cheeks in a way that’s nearly painful.

“no,” he grunts, “when i propose to you it’ll be much better than this.”

and what else can you do but fall into him? your heart feels like it might burst from the warmth that fills you, threatening to spill out from every cell in your body, too much for anyone to properly handle. it’s on your hands when you use them to hold him down, swinging your leg over his lap so you’re straddled atop of him, kissing him in the hopes that it’s enough to express what words will never be enough to express.

he meets you in the middle, mouth hot and demanding. you’ve never felt more wanted, never felt more loved, like you could take on any struggle the universe may throw at you and be fine because logan’s by your side, always there to catch you. you read the promise on his lips, and the word forever is unspoken but you both hear it anyway.

taglist: @mystiquesvendetta @raeinyourdreams @babey-fruit-bat @meetmypointlessaddiction @kneelforloki @deaky-with-a-c @hypermarvellove @littlepeanut03 @the-ruler-of-death @aliengutzstuff @misscrissfemmefatale @mynamesstevenwithav @teaganthemorningstar @blackkatzz @leryg0 @fries11 @forksloree @i5uckersblog @dragovegogrimborn @quillycrow @melday0105 @just-a-little-cellist @scorpiosaintt @akasha157-blog @insanesosciopath @eridektbh @trickstergabriel69 @lord-bingus666

[arcanewhoosh]

The Bolter

2.2k words

Proofread? Y/N

TW: Minor descriptions of injuries

Arcane Series Finale spoilers

If you were to ask the regular citizens of Piltover and Zaun, the regular duration of a search and rescue mission is around seven days. While this was, in a way, correct, but it would only reach that many days if there was enough proof that the missing person was alive.

Standard operating procedure only allows a max of fifty-one hours.

You've been searching for nine days, fifteen hours, and twenty-seven minutes.

We don't have the resources right now, there's been too many casualties.

Alone.

There’re too many places to look through. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have put the thought in your head-

Through every single cooling duct leading into the Hex Gate.

-the fuse assembly could've survived by other means.

"I have to try, Cait." You say as you put on your pack, loaded with first aid supplies and recovery equipment. Caitlyn moves to grab your arm. Her grip firm, but she's not holding you in any way that could actually prevent you from leaving. You still stop and wait for her to finish what she wants to say.

"It's been over a week. You've barely slept the entire time, and I can't keep changing the subject when Vi asks me where you've gone." She tugs at your arm lightly, willing you to sit down on a nearby chair.

It had been ten days since the end of the battle. Ten days since Piltover and Zaun almost met their demise. Ten days since so many lives were lost; all for power.

Vi was -is- a mess. She could barely pull herself up from the ledge you fished her out of back at the top of the tower. Dread had already begun to creep its way across your body as you made your way up to where Jinx and Ekko's balloon had crashed. The feeling only got worse as you climbed higher, seeing no signs of its three occupants. You started running faster up steps, climbing ladders with speed you never thought possible for you. For a moment the dread had ceded, your adrenaline taking over. But then there was the explosion. And then... And then eventually you heard Vi's cries.

Your body stiffens as you shut your eyes, willing the memory away. "You're gonna have to cover for me a bit longer, Cait." You say as you softly pry your arm free of her grasp. "With how loud that explosion was, there's no way the assembly could've just survived."

"If it was anyone else, maybe I would've stopped searching already. But you and I both know this isn't just anyone else, no matter which side you're on." Caitlyn looks at you for a few moments, you know we'll enough that she's already wavering in her previous attempt to dissuade you.

"You wouldn't have mentioned it at all if you didn't think-"

"I know, I know." She finally says. "I wouldn't have given you the schematics for the structure either."

She sighs, an all too familiar indicator that you've won. "Just... Don't push yourself too much. I know I'm the one that gave you hope that she survived, but at some point..." She trails off. You know she wants to say that she doesn't want you to have your hopes crushed, or to put yourself in unnecessary danger. Especially since the inner ducts have been unstable since the explosion.

"I promise, I'll be careful, Cait. You know me." You shrug and smile at her, hoping that the nonchalant display is enough to convince her that you aren't fatigued out of your mind.

The look on her face says she doesn't buy it. But she says nothing about her doubts, instead nodding your way. "Be careful, I'm holding you to that."

"I will."

"Fucking air vents." You curse as you drop your pack by the wall of the duct. The thump it makes echoing around the cavernous tunnel. You've been walking uphill to get back up to the entrance, but the strain from working non-stop for over a week, the sleep deprivation, and the mental exhaustion was bound to catch up. Maybe Cait was onto something with the whole resting thing.

You let out a huff at the thought. You didn't have time to rest, what if Jinx was somewhere hurt, with no one around- she'd find a way to pull herself out of here and escape-- or what if she was trapped somewhere -this is my second sweep of the vents and all the obstructed entrances have been cleared- You lean against the tunnel wall before slumping gingerly to the ground. Your ankle hadn't fully healed from the battle, and you still had bandages all over your midsection from injuries you sustained.

You take a few steadying breaths before pulling out a map of the vents, marking the sections you've done your sweep of. Your vision swims for a moment, and it's enough for you to shut the map and lean you head against the wall. You close your eyes and steady your breathing, willing yourself to hold it together.

You're no use to me dead. She would say right about now. I'm still alive and you still say I'm useless. You'd reply.

"Yeah, but I say it lovingly." She harks back from her chair, tinkering away at her robot bug thing that she and Isha were using for their little fight club. You turn from the pin board you were making- places in Zaun where new checkpoints had been placed. You drop the purple pen you were using-Isha had stolen the red marker you usually use-- to write and make your way over to Jinx.

"Lovingly?" You ask as you turn her chair around, a grin plastered on your face. She rolls her eyes, but her own smile betrays her attempt at brushing you off. "Don't think too hard about it, you might hurt yourself."

"Looks like you've been the one thinking about it." She scoffs at you, turning her chair back to face her work station. Though she doesn't turn fast enough for the pink dusting her cheeks to escape your notice. "I said don't think too much about it."

"Hey." You say softly, turning her chair around again and pulling up a chair for yourself so you were eye-level. She's pouting, so you know you're not in trouble. "I'm sorry for teasing." You take her left hand and place a kiss on her knuckles. She makes a face.

"Ew, don't kiss my hands, they're covered in grease."

"When are they not covered in grease?"

"Didn't you just apologize for teasing?"

"I'm sorry for teasing, again."

"You're lucky-" She clamps her mouth shut. You bite the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from grinning again. The last thing you want is for her to close herself off. You know she's being careful. For someone known to be completely reckless at spontaneous times, she could be just as calculating and reserved. She's slipped a few times already, not explicitly saying I love you, but accidentally implying it or using some variation of the word during a casual conversation. You're no better, but so far, you've been able to avoid slipping.

Maybe you both thought it was too soon to say. Three or four months of you acknowledging that there was something between the two of you might be too soon, but there was a revolution going on, and revolutions are rarely peaceful and without casualties. Who knows what might happen in a few months, weeks, days, or hours. But you don't know what the next few weeks have in store for you.

"I know I'm lucky." You say. Hoping that the implication of, I know I'm lucky you love me, is enough.

But it wasn't, and now I'm here.

You jolt forward, blinking a few times to clear your blurry vision. Had you dozed off? For how long?

You sigh and rub your face with your hands. You do need rest, just for a little bit, then you'd get back to searching for her. You're no use to her dead, after all.

The walk back to your apartment is agonizing. The second you decided that it was time to take a break, your whole body decided that it was the best time for you to feel your exhaustion in its entirety. Your pack was suddenly heavier, your ankle decided to start swelling, and the wound on your side thought it was the perfect time to start bleeding again. Despite your body's attempt to suddenly render you immobile, you're able to meander back to your door after a horrible confrontation with five flights of stairs. Damn that faulty elevator

You decide that having a view from your balcony isn't really all that worth it as you jam your keys into the lock and make your way inside. You stop dead in your tracks as soon as you pass through the door. The lock never clicked open.

You draw your pistol quietly, and scan the open living room and kitchen area of your home. Deeming the areas clear, you start making your way towards the hallway leading to your bedroom, pistol aimed and ready. Who on the Runeterra's green earth would be targeting you? Leftover Noxians? No. Turn coats like Maddie? Unlikely. Someone from the Undercity with a grudge? Unless they figured out who I am, I doubt it.

You hear a creaking sound from a door to your left, and you quickly kick it open and aim your pistol at the intruder.

"Jeez, you'd think a girl would get a warmer welcome after coming back from the dead." The intruder says, leaning back on a chair and idly scanning a vinyl.

You stare, dumbfounded. A part of you fully believing you've started hallucinating from the exhaustion, or the blood loss, you're not sure anymore. Your intruder, however, seemed to find your predicament funny.

"What, got nothing to say to me?" She asks. She finally turns to look at you, but the grin she puts on quickly falters when she notices the blood from your reopened wound seeping through your uniform. And then she's in front of you, one hand cupping the side of your face, the other hovering just above spots of blood on your shirt.

She asks if you're okay, but you're not sure. You still haven't confirmed whether on not you're hallucinating. So you do the only logical thing in the world and wrap your arms around her.

"Jinx?" Your voice cracks as you utter her name, and you wait. Wait for her to disappear, for your tired mind to catch up and be able to distinguish what is real and what isn't, because a part of you was only ever really using the tunnel search as a coping mechanism and that-

"I'm here, it's okay." She says as she wraps her arms around you and returns your embrace. If it were any other day, it would be you comforting her, offering her words of reassurance, support, affirmation. But this isn't any other day. Because you thought for the last ten days, twenty-three hours, and eight minutes, that she had died in an explosion.

But she didn't, and now you're sure that she's alive, that she's here, and alive, and breathing and-

"I love you." The words spill out of your mouth before you can think of anything else. How could you think of anything else? When those words, you realize now, have been long overdue.

She laughs. You realize how much you've missed hearing her laugh once your tears start falling. "I'm sorry." You say. "I thought, you died."

You stop yourself from hissing as her hug tightens and pain shoots up from your side. You could stomach the discomfort for this. You wouldn't let her go for anything, not again. "I'm sorry I took so long, bubs."-Your heart soars at the nickname- "There were a few... loose ends I had to take care of before coming to find you." She wipes away your tears as she says this, her hands carefully brushing your hair out of your face.

"It's okay, nothing else matters no." Just you you wanted to add, but refrain from speaking any further. You pull away just far enough to look at her, still not letting her go. It's her, alright. Her hair is different, and she doesn't have her pants that that one enforcer described as a half-eaten circus tent, but it's her.

"You're not upset?" She has the audacity to ask.

"I spent the last week and a half thinking you were dead, upset is the last thing I'm feeling. Wait no, actually, I spent nine days wandering around the cooling vents to look for greasy ass hand prints on walls."

"Hey."

"And I couldn't find any so you must've washed your hands for once-"

"Okay, smart ass, I get it." She says, rolling her eyes before pulling you in for a kiss. Suddenly all the exhaustion and pain you're feeling is gone, and your mind blanks. The only thought running through your head is Jinx and I missed you, and I love you, I love you, I love you as you pull her closer to you.

"Easy, tiger." She puts a hand on your chest to stop you from chasing after her when she pulls away. You let out a huff. She laughs. "You're bleeding, I need to take a look at that first."

"Since when has me being injured ever stopped you?"

She grins at you. "Being away from me that long has you down bad, huh?"  You grumble something about her being unappreciative, and she responds by pulling your face down and placing a kiss on your nose.

"You're lucky I love you." 

[demonpiratehuntress]

clowns

taglist - @kabloswrld

OPLA!Zoro x F!Reader

summary - clowns are terrifying, and your first encounter with one leaves you traumatised. lucky for you, you have a big strong swordsman as a boyfriend.

warnings - CLOWNS (yes they should ALWAYS be a warning and yes Buggy scares me), you and Zoro are/were both pirate hunters

a/n - i count myself lucky i don't have circuses where i live, because if i ever see a clown i will run the other way

Not only did you not expect to join a pirate crew, but you far from thought your first encounter as a "crew" would be facing your worst nightmare.

The minute you saw the bright red nose and funny make-up, you stiffened. Your eyes went wide and you became unresponsive, like you couldn't hear them talking or feel Zoro's subtle protective touches. You were too focused on the clown in front of you, terrified to your core.

"What's wrong with her?" Buggy noticed your stare, and waved his hand in front of your face. "Can she hear me?"

Zoro growled and put himself between you and the clown pirate, "Eyes on me, Binky." He knew that wasn't the clown's name, but Luffy's mistake would serve him well in getting Buggy's attention off you.

Sure enough, the clown scowled and looked at him, "Buggy! It's not that hard to remember!"

You were relieved that the clown was no longer focusing on you, but just the sight of him was rattling you to your core. While he was distracted, you took it as your opportunity to turn and run.

Now let it be said that you do not run easily from anything. You and Zoro were pirate hunters, or had been until you'd been roped into this, and you had faced some nasty, dangerous threats. You were hardened, and almost nothing shook you.

Except clowns.

Funny how the one thing you steered clear of found you first the moment you aligned yourself with others.

Before you could get far, some of his circus freaks grabbed you and brought you back. The clown was still talking about himself, but chuckled when his goons brought you back into the tent.

"What's wrong, pirate hunter?" He sneered. "Scared?"

"Hey!" Luffy beat Zoro this time, "Leave her alone."

And things went downhill from there.

You were, for some reason, separated from the group. So was Luffy, but that's because Buggy was interrogating him. Nami and Zoro had been escorted somewhere else, leaving you on your own in another side room, panicking and growing more and more nauseous. To make matters worse, Luffy started screaming from wherever he was.

A while later, the clown walked into your room.

Your eyes went wide, and you struggled against the rope holding you to the wooden beam.

"I'm surprised," he spoke, "You have a reputation that made even some of my men nervous. And yet...you can't even look me in the eye." He stopped right in front of you, "Why's that?"

You tried your best to look away, turning your head sideways and finding something else to focus on. You couldn't speak, and you were trembling. Nothing had ever shaken you like this, ever. But clowns for some reason...you couldn't handle them.

"Is it the nose?" He asked mockingly, although he sounded a bit annoyed at the mention of his large appendage again. He forced you to look at him, gripping your chin in his gloved hands. "Hmm?"

"Leave me alone," you managed to get out through gritted teeth.

"Your captain isn't being very cooperative," he ignored your request, "So I have a lot of time to spend here with you."

"Why me?" You tried to glare, but you knew you looked scared. Because you were.

"Fear is a good motivator for telling the truth," he finally let go of your chin, walking around you and sizing you up. "Your friends will be tough to convince, but you...you don't like clowns, right? I'll leave you alone if you tell me where the map is."

"Do your worst," you breathed out, a little shakily, but you were determined not to cave. Not for this idiot.

He growled, and in an instant he was in front of you again, holding a knife to your throat while putting his frightening face right up in yours, "Tell me where it is!"

The sound you let out was something between a squeak and a yelp, fear once again overcoming your body at the clown's proximity. It wasn't so much the knife pressed against your jugular, it was the fact that your worst fear was inches away from you. You clenched your fists, trying to control your shaking, but it didn't work. And he was amused by your terror.

"I'm going to check on your captain," he stepped back, "If he doesn't give me an answer, I'm coming right back here and I promise I'll leave a scar." Then he left, and you could breathe again.

But that's when the tears came.

You didn't really sob, you just stayed there crying silently. Your body trembled, mind numb with fear and shock. His face was burned into your mind, and shutting your eyes only made your panic worse.

That's how Zoro found you, tied up and shaking with glassy eyes.

"What did he do to you?" The swordsman asked when he cut you loose, grabbing and squeezing your arms gently. "(Name), what did he do?"

You just shook your head, unable to speak, and sought his comfort by burying your face in his neck and crying even more. The more you shook, the angrier he got. But he held you for as long as you needed, knowing Nami would be okay with finding Luffy on her own. You were Zoro's priority.

You finally let go a few minutes later, wiping your face, "Let's go help the others."

He nodded, guiding you out the room.

The trauma stuck with you for a few days after the three of you escaped him, evident one night when you woke up sweating and shaking. Zoro was a deep sleeper, but he had a sixth sense reserved just for you, so he was woken up by your outburst.

Zoro wasn't good with words, but he was definitely good at comforting you through actions. He never had to say anything, he just wrapped his strong arms around you and you were slowly soothed. You just had to lean against his chest, enveloped in his arms, and you would slowly calm down. His gentle kisses atop your head also helped, his affection never failing to get your mind off whatever was worrying you.

In Syrup Village, you spotted a poster of the clown pirate and started hyperventilating. Zoro immediately turned you away from it and cupped your cheeks in his hands, making you look at him.

"Hey, focus on me," he told you, "Just me. I'm here. You're fine." He used a gentle, soft tone, one reserved just for you.

You tried to breathe, eyes locked on his face, concentrating on his warm brown ones that held so much concern for you. The eyes that always comforted you with just a look. Slowly your breathing evened out, and Zoro embraced you, this time not caring that you were in public.

"You're okay."

You nodded slowly, taking a deep breath, "Thanks, Zoro."

He just nodded, giving you one last forehead kiss, "If we ever see him again, I'm going to cut him up and throw him in the ocean."

You managed a weak smile, grateful to have such a protective boyfriend. His actions always proved how devoted he was, even if they were a little violent. You wouldn't have it any other way.

"You do that."

[boofeine]

AAA – ljh

pairing: woozi x afab reader

genre: smut

summary: you decide to make jihoon cum under your good care and you wouldn't receive different.

warnings: mdni, oral (f and m receiving), handjob, gagging, a lot of spit, praise, slow sex, not penetrative, unprotected, fingering, body workship, cum play, swearing

a/n: happy jihoon day!!! birthday post for birthday boy and my strong thoughts of woozi having the greatest ace potential on seventeen as part of the ace community 🫡

tags: @huen1ngk4i @aaniag @svteensworld @kooqitas @unlikelysublimekryptonite @yorkutis

Jihoon is a shy man. Don't get him wrong, he doesn't lack attitude, quite the opposite, he takes a lot of action, he just needs time to make sure that's really what you both want and feel totally comfortable and in it. That's a big part of it, that's one of the reasons sex with Jihoon is so... addictive. It's intense and has not a single pullback or doubt. He needs to have that something more. Sex for just sex is not for him.

You were getting impatient, you tried seducting him through it. Sure, you could use your words, but it's more fun to make you both figure it out. Jihoon isn't dumb, he notices the way you shoot those hungry eyes to him. The way you smile pretending to give attention to everything he's saying. Your gaze going from his eyes to his lips and them back up again. He looks unbothered though, but that's because he's too afraid to sport a hard on if he stares for too long.

And you're all so sure about it, having your back pressed on the mattress, your wrists pinned by his hands on top of your head as he kisses the outline of your jaw and neck. You mewl under his soft lips that let open mouth kisses to your torso and love bites just above your nipples. Your back arching for him, in need of his mouth somewherelse more needed. "You're just so impatient, aren't you?" He whispers, looking up at your face and God how that needy eyes say so much, the brows shut and mouth agape, he wants to ruin you.

He smears his tongue around your nipple, the most erotic moan leaving your mouth as you finally get the feeling you've been waiting on. He sucks and licks as he cups your other breast, changing sides to give the same attention to the other boob, pinching and playing with the one who lost his mouth. It's all too much, the ache and wetness between your legs get way too uncomfortable before he trails down with his kisses. His hands leave your wrists to grip your waist instead, keeping you in place so he can lick a long stripe of your folds. Your legs spreading as if it were instincts. His tongue alternating between fucking your hole and draw circles on your clit. "Fuck, Jihoon! Feels so good!" you praise and whine. The knot on your stomach finally undoing as you come undone on his mouth. He growls and laps on your center, drinking in all your juices. His cock rock hard on his boxers, ruining the material with his precum.

He makes his way back up, hovering over you, keeping his weight up as he stares down at your naked form and fucked out state as your chest rise and fall out of breath. He doesn't waist time in kissing you, your tongues swirling together, your own taste adding to it as you whimper on his lips, your pussy heated all over again. "You're so hot. I can't ever get enough of this" He adds.

You feel your body burning hot, not wanting to wait anymore, you roll his body to the side, pressing him on the mattress as you take your place above him. Your mouths unattaches for a moment, but dives back to the kiss right after.

You let your fingers go inside his hair, grabbing a full hand of it. With your other free hand, you cage and bring his wrist to your hair, stopping the kiss to lend softly the words "Do it for me". Your foreheads press together, eyes locked as he pulls your hair back, arranging and taking it on a ponytail. Without saying much more, you go down on him. His breath hiss watching you getting on your knees in between his legs as he watches you hand his base, giving a kitten lick to his cockhead, a sigh of satisfaction coming out from him. You let a kiss over it, so teasingly soft that makes him want to lose his control and just thrust inside your mouth. You take his head first, wrapping your mouth around it and sucking it with hallow cheeks, leaving with a loud pop. You look up at him, your palm going up to smear your spit and his arousal around his head with your two middle fingers, you scissors it, making a fist right after, bumping down his length. That's enough to make him let out a breathy low moan, his head going back as you start to bump him. He swears under his breath as you take him on your warmth mouth again. Your head bobing around what you can take as you fist the end.

With your legs on each side of his laid body, you go up to kiss him again. You go back to his length, fisting it in circle motions. He can feel your soft hands on his lower belly and around his cock, the same for you as your belly get all wet with his pre cum. He slides his palm over your sides, grabbing your waist as he brings you closer, your clit pressing over his balls, making you moan. Your face going down on his jaw as he grabs your ass cheeks, pushing them aside.

"Shit, baby, feels so good" His grip on your hair tightens when you finally reach for his balls, massaging it. You can see his eyes rolling back by your hooded view as he lets out a proper moan from the back of his throat. He've lost control, cuping your face and making you stay in place as he starts to thrust inside your mouth. The change in who has the control makes your legs press together as he pushes in more than you believe you can take. Your eyes watering as you dig your digits onto the skin of his thighs. You whimper and whine around him, a final thrusts making his cockhead poke the back of your throat as you gag around him, he groans pleasantly, taking his length out slowly, leaving your lips with a sloppy sound and a line of spit connecting them two together. You try to catch your breath, your chin all wet as well as his dick, your saliva and his arousal slipping down to his balls. Jihoon caresses his thumb on your cheeks, caging your chin on his grip to make you look up at him "Fucking gorgeous. Come over here" He praises, pulling you to him by the hair.

You push your upper body up, your palms landing on his abs as you suddenly move. Jihoon's face changes in confusion as you turn your back to him, going down again. Your legs are spread, your wet cunt just there in front of his face. "Fuck, you're going to ruin me" He lets out as he spreads your folds apart, your pussy clenching with the motion as he smears your arosal on it. "You're dripping, babe" He states, his fingers sliding easily as you moan his name, the pet name doing wonders to you as your body responds, a rush of your juices coming out of your entrance as Jihoon stares hungrily, his tongue coming out to lick his lips as he watches.

In the same position you are in, you take him in your mouth again, his cock twitching under your tongue before you start moving. On the other side, he draws circles to your sensitive muscle, teasing your entrance with his fingers. You whine, your ass wiggling asking for more of him. He laughs endeared by your neediness. Hearing your prayers, he thrust two fingers in, making you whimper and hault the rhythm you've set around his length. He keeps thrusting slowly, easing your hole as he goes more inside each time. Your whole body squirm when he reaches your further spot, your mouth leaving him, not being able to get anything done. "Fuck, Jihoon!" You moan out, at least bumping him so he feels something too. The tip of his fingers pressing over your g spot as your back arch with a whine.

He sighs, out of breath, his body losing weight as he lets go of you. You move to face him again as he isn't aware, feeling the post orgasm thrill, his eyes closed and body light. "Look at me" You say softly as he opens his eyes slowly. As soon as your presence is known, you lick his newly hot cum from his skin, his toned abs hardening under your tongue as you lick him dry. "Goddamit!" The sight nasty enough to make his cock spurr one last line of cum before starting to get back to its flacid state again. You suck everything clean, drinking his every drop, sitting down on the back of your legs with a small smile to your face that mirrors his under you.

"Oh! Do you like that, pretty?" He teases. There's no doubt by the way your walls pulsate around his digits and hug them tightly. Before you know, he's back at thrusting his fingers, his thumb making his way up to your clit as he caresses your ass with his free hand. You swear the room is spinning, your whole body hissing as the familiar knot starts to build on your stomach. You know it wont take much for you to cum. So, taking some action, you press his cock down over his lower belly, keeping massaging the flesh as you take his ball on your mouth. His legs shake under you, and you smirk proudly. Your tongue goes flat where his balls connected, licking the thin flash. Jihoon's hips bulk up to your mouth as he swears and moans, his fingers going faster on your whole, giving in how desesparate he is. "Shit, Yn, I'm gonna cum" he announces. His fingers curling inside you again as you moan and suck him harder. He feels the way your pussy sucks him in, he knows you're close too "Gonna cum with me, hm? Cum for me, babe" He pushes your high, his palm leaving your ass to fuck your clit instead.

It's all too much, your face burring to his legs as you, unintentionally, puts force around the grip you have on his cock as he grunts, stopping everything he's doing to grab your waist and pull your ass to him. His tongue laps on your center, his soft tongue on you clit while your head goes back as you finally cum on his mouth. He hums, drinking in all your cum that keeps coming out. Goosebumps spreading all over your body and the sweet taste of you on his tongue, soon after he can't take it anymore either. Jihoon cums. His hot white spread, messing all over his belly and stomach. Yours going down on your inner thigh.

[sunshinegirl29]

Under The Influence

Summary; Aaron is helpless under the influence of Peter Lewis.

Content Warnings: 18+ MDNI. Drugs, Violence, Death, P in V Sex, some angst & fluff if you squint.

Pairing: Hotch X Reader

A/N - Sorry for how terrible this is, especially the end! It didn't quite come out how I'd hoped. But I still wanted to post it 😅.

-

Aaron’s eye is swollen shut.  The sticky cooling blood dries on his cheek where he sits slumped against an unfamiliar couch in an unfamiliar room. He sees you there, soft and warm, and blurred at the edges. You crouch down and stroke tenderly over the swell of his arms.

“Hotch—Aaron.” You breathe his name, leaning into the crook of his neck to nuzzle at the warm skin there.

Aaron tenses at first, uncomfortable.

“What’re you doing?" he bites out and attempts to shuffle from your grip, but his arms won’t move.

Something buzzes by his right foot, illuminating a faceless figure.

“It’s okay.”  

You smell like sage mingled with something sweet, like bubble-gum.

He jumps at the delicate press of your lips against his neck, puffing frustrated breaths when you continue a path of open-mouthed kisses up and across his jaw before pulling away to smile coyly at him.

You’re beautiful. He knew that. But now, gazing at him with lust blown eyes and the hint of a blush tinging your cheeks you’re almost ethereal; like a mirage of water in a desert.

He can’t do this. No matter how many times he’d scolded himself about wanting more. You were so much younger than him. His friend. His subordinate.

“It’s okay. You can kiss me, Aaron.”

It’s as if a film falls down over him and a confusing blurred version of you; plush lips parted and panting with need.

You hold your breath in anticipation before he moves in slow motion.  Aaron’s lips are softer than you expected, his five o’clock shadow a sharp juxtaposition.  The erotic sensation beckons a moan from your mouth into his that’s warm and unbearably pliant.  

“Touch me. Please. You have my permission.” 

It’s as if a switch flips in his head.  He had to have every inch of you.

The unbearable need forces him forward, the pain in his face and head just a background buzz to the ache for you.

He bursts into life underneath you; the hand that isn’t holding himself up curls around the side of your neck, a large thumb tips your head down for a kiss that swallows you whole.  You can’t stop yourself from whining into him, obedient to his tongue that licks readily into your mouth.  The tang of iron blending with a sweetness of something unknown, it gets stronger until he breaks away, allowing you to draw in a soft gasp.   The reprieve doesn’t last.

The large hand commanding your jaw moves to join the other at your chest, and with diligent fingers, the light material is slipped from your body.   Aaron groans deeply from under you at the black lace, which follows the shirt quickly to the floor. You can’t help but lean into the heady sensation of wet warmth at your chest where he nips and licks like a man starved.

“Oh god.”  You whine at the relentless pleasure of his mouth and can’t stop yourself from grinding down into his lap. He answers your silent request for friction with a weak rut of his own.  The hardness there hits your clit over again and you’re clenching around nothing, keening into his mouth that at some stage had taken yours once more.  He brings the arm that had been wrapped around your back to tug harshly at your trousers, the material drags painfully at your thighs until they disappear discarded with the rest.

The subtle dominance of him is all consuming. He’s commanding and strong underneath you, lifting your thighs sharply up to bob gently for a few seconds. Pained groans and the jingling of metal the only sounds. 

Aaron hesitates, reaching for some coherence through the thinning haze.

“Where is she?”  he asks, confused.

A dark figure takes up his field of vision. Lazy instincts urge him to try to move, to run.  Whoever is holding him here sits, elbows on spread knees listening intently. There’s a faint hiss to his left, something frustratingly out of reach, something isn’t right.

“Whe---”  he goes to ask again, but coughs on the growing smell of sage.  It's too hard to stay focused. His head lolls down, vision doubling.

Aaron knows he has to breathe through it, to call her, call his team and escape so he breathes, full and deep for a few seconds but is quickly distracted by a cold touch to the side of his face.

You’re undeterred by the blood on your hand and bring it down in a trail of crimson that disappears between you and Aaron who stares glassily into your eyes; his honeyed irises adoring. 

“It’s just me and you, Aaron.” You purr, tilting forward to capture his parted lips. His teeth clench, nostrils flare like he’s fighting to keep composure. But you’ve seen the way he looks at you. Over coffee in the jet, across the bullpen when he thinks you don’t notice, but you do—because you’ve been looking at him too.  Pining like a needy puppy, clenching your thighs under the desk, watching him interrogate unsubs and coaching you through difficult reports.  But you never entertained that it was anything more than a crush and definitely not it being reciprocated!

But the need for him, it’s almost too much.

“Aaron, please. I need you to---"

You cry out, taken by surprise by the way he thrusts upwards; the stretch of him inside you only adds to the pleasure.  There’s no art or finesse, just animalistic clashing of skin against skin, tongues, and teeth in all consuming desire.  Strong hands ease down to settle on your lower back, rocking you faster against him, the drag of his cock inside you rips a strained moan from between your lips.

The sound has him hammering up in deliberate thrusts so strong that you flop forward, grinding flush against the damp front of his chest.  Your whines are muffled into his neck, the white-hot throb of pleasure coiling inside you renders you oblivious to his nonsensical muttering and all you can do is kiss him desperately, swallowing deep growls of Aaron’s own pleasure.

Blunt nails dig into your back, his motions beginning to falter, but you continue to writhe on top of him. The way your body binds tightly to his creates friction in all the right places.

Aaron is louder now. The animal need pulling guttural noises from his throat that spur you on. Slick gushes around him and you  whine out, his thumb rubbing desperately at the edge of your clit.

“I’m gonna cum, please.”

Your thighs shake around his, you’re so close to breaking completely but manage to release yourself from your place at his neck and take his jaw in your hand, yanking his head up with uncharacteristic force to look in your eyes.

“Aaron” He indulges the plea with a ragged thrust that pushes you over the precipice.

Your body tenses for one glorious second and a ripple runs through your body like a wave of throbbing electricity, pulsing through you and into Aaron  who bites through a moan that tips you over the edge once more. You come down together, continuing to fill the room with noise, but another jarring sound snaps from behind you;

Something snatches at your hair and you scream out loud, pain searing through your scalp as you’re launched off Aaron’s lap and onto your back.

Aaron tries desperately to lurch forward. He has to get to you, to wrap you up in his arms, keep you safe. But all he can do is scream your name, his limbs heavy once more. 

“Help me! Aaron, please!”  You beg, half scrambling toward his slumped form, but a steel toed boot crushes your ribs like twigs underfoot.  Instincts force you to curl up against the pain, crying for him to stop, but the shadowed figure just sighs, bringing himself down to stroke your hair.  He says nothing but glances toward Aaron and smiles.

The pleasure, the love you felt from being with Aaron pales in comparison to the what follows. Agony rips through your throat. You can’t breathe, blood floods your mouth and pours from your nose.

A final gunshot rings out.

“Now I know what scares you.”

You never hear him beg for you.

 On the floor, Aaron can hear his heart, louder than waves hitting the shore with such abandon, throwing itself again and again into his ribs. He tries to stand but bends like a tree in warm summer wind, brain fuzzy, and burning. The dark figure from before comes back into focus; the sharp, angular face of Peter Lewis sneers down at his undoing.

“It’s okay.”  He croons as Aaron turns away, grimacing at blunt fingernails digging spitefully into the bruises decorating his jaw. 

 “You can move now.” 

 The smell of iron and something low and musky fills his nose; sucking in a steady breath, he begins to follow Peters' instruction to the letter.  It’s on shaking knees Aaron becomes wildly aware of the dampness at his crotch, the uncomfortable disparity in temperature between material and skin.  That’s when it comes again, the flood of memory; the intoxication of you, your skin, your body, and his, coming together in unadulterated pleasure.  But with pleasure comes fear, the paralysing image of your death; the blood pouring like red rapids from your open mouth, the whites of your eyes blooming with the realization that death was imminent.  But instead of clutching your wound, even in the twisted world of his imagination, you had reached for him.  Blush tipped fingers that had clutched at his back in ecstasy desperately scrambled for him, desperate for a crumb of comfort in your final moments.  

A beam of light invades the small space, illuminating a cream carpet. There’s no blood, no you. There’s nothing but the leather boots of Peter who revels in his agony, unphased by the intrusion of light.    Something starts in Aaron, a spark of hope and an idea – years of training in the making.   It forces him to the floor, grunting against the sensation.  He has to be convincing. 

“I’m coming through the door.” Peter hisses, thin lips brushing the shell of his ear “the woman you love, I’m going to kill her.  Unless you kill me first.” 

“I need.” Aaron stammers, giving himself mere seconds to calculate his next move “I need my gun”

A single shot rings out, and time suspends.

 He’s crying when they burst through the door, each staggering to a stop in shock before bolting, tracking puddles of blood that retreat toward the back of the house.  Aaron isn’t sure they’re real, not really, not until Rossi unfreezes from his place in the archway and presses the cold back of his hand to his burning forehead. Even riddled with panic and pain, Aaron didn’t miss the eyes of his team, lingering on his desperate hands that scrambled to buckle his slacks in time. 

“We need a medic in here!” Rossi yells, it pulls Aaron up and everything comes back into sharp focus, like being pulled from deep water to cool air.

“Take it.” Aaron pants, panic itching his bones as he looks around, desperate to hear you, to know you’re alive “he made me see things..” 

“Okay, come on let’s get you up.” Rossi sighs a plea, linking an arm under his to lift his sagging body from the floor. 

He scans Aaron’s body, looking for obvious defects and signs of further injury but comes up empty and Aaron knows he wants to pry, to ask what had happened, for the painfully intimate details of his undoing.  But Rossi just pats his shoulder, the same shoulder you’d dug your nails in, and he can’t help but flinch away. 

“Where is she?” Even knowing it could reveal the truth, it didn’t matter; you weren’t here. He could hear everyone; JJ and Morgan round the corner, Spencer who lurks in the doorway, committing the scene to memory, but not you.

“Who Hotch? There’s no one else here. ” Rossi asks, flashing a concerned glance toward Spencer.

No, she’s here. She’s dead.

Aaron watches as Spencer pushes off the wall, eyes downcast and he knows then that he hadn’t been as covert as he’d thought, but then again Spencer always saw people for what they didn’t say.

Spencer gawps awkwardly around an explanation, but footsteps stampede toward the living room, panicked and stumbling.  Your heart battering every rib but ricochets as you stagger to a halt, folding at the waist in relief.  He’s alive. Bleeding and dishevelled, but alive.

“Hotch.” You gasp, a shaky hand comes up to cover your mouth when you step closer, taking in the details. His pants have been hastily pulled up. Something darkens the material at his crotch.

You turn quickly, reddening slightly.  It’s been years since you entered the BAU, but you didn’t need to be a seasoned profiler to understand the expressions of the two men in front of you. Spencer flutters off to assist JJ, who drags a handcuffed Mr. Scratch into the hallway but stops in his stride. 

“I win.” 

He looks through Spencer, his beady eyes bore holes into yours.

“I don’t think so.” You bite and take a sharp step forward, but stop at a wayward flutter of your heart. A warm hand wraps itself gently around your wrist.

“You have no idea what I did to him. I win.” Peter laughs.  Instinctually, you peer up to Aaron for any clarification, but the two men seem to freeze, suspended in time.  Scratch taps at his own head, sneering between you and Aaron, whose ox like breathing permeates the tense silence. 

You want to ponder his meaning, but the weight of Aaron’s heavy hand in yours is all consuming; his palm is warm and slightly calloused in your own, gripping it tightly as if an anchor.

“Hotch?” You breathe, turning slightly unnerved by his silence.  “let’s get you checked out..”

Aaron turns, coming to life beside you; his dark shining eyes pin you to the spot.

“Aaron?” you frown, turning to Rossi for help find him huddled together with the rest of the team in a shadowed corner of the hallway.

He blinks, as if he’s seeing you for the first time, a loaded gaze that’s out of place on his face but not unwelcomed. You pull in a shuddering breath, unable to stop your eyes from fluttering closed when he curls a piece of wayward hair back behind your ear.

“He made me see things.” Aaron groans, jaw ticking, years of friendship shows it for what it is, the voluntary holding of information.

“It’s okay.” You try your best to soothe him, to bite back your own emotions at seeing him so vulnerable.

Aaron sighs, small and resigned. 

“He made me see you.” He mutters, shaking his head at Rossi in your peripheral. 

None of the team make a move to invade your space, respecting whatever was about to unfold.  Your heart races, palms sweat slightly.

“You were dead,” 

It took a few seconds to realize what he’d said, to battle with the weight of what that meant.  You’d felt it for a while, the building tension your interactions, the way he’d reach for you when a scene got too busy or too violent.  You’d pushed it down for so long, trying to curb the craving of being close to him, the hunger for his presence, the way you gravitated towards him in every situation. It wasn’t until now, looking up at his grief ridden face that you knew it had evolved into more than  just this. 

You’d died.

Peter Lewis makes his victims see their worst nightmares, and Aaron Hotchner’s was you dead. 

"I’m right here.” You choke out from behind tears, lifting your hand to touch the side of his face.  You half expected him to flinch, but he doesn’t. He all but melts, tears falling freely.

“Tell me what happened while it’s fresh.” It’s then you realise there had been more to this than meets the eye. There’s more he’s not telling you.

“No. I can’t..” You watch him step from foot to foot, tilting his head to the sky in frustration.

You almost push but Rossi cuts in with a cough;

"Come on, Aaron, we need to get you checked out.” This isn’t a suggestion, you know Rossi and Aaron, and don’t fight it, as much as you want to.

“It’s okay. I’ll be here when you get back.” You smile, suddenly feeling awkward, now aware of the presence of your team in your periphery.  

JJ approaches first, cautious as if you might crumble under her soft touch on your arm;

“Are you okay?  What was that?” 

You don’t know.  Or do you?  The whole trajectory of your relationship had changed in a moment. How do you put that into a coherent sentence?

“It must have been Scratch. He put something in his head. I don’t know..” You trail off, going back over everything.  But Morgan cuts in, shuffling you out toward the front door.

“That man doesn’t crack a smile. It’d take more than a hallucination to do that.” 

“Maybe..” Reid starts, taking in a short gasp at the sharp change in temperature as you head toward the SUV. “Maybe we shouldn’t speculate.  It looked bad.”

You could have hugged him.  But instead smile, grateful.  

Aaron watches you go, locking eyes loaded with words unspoken.  Someone once said, is it better to speak or to die? He doesn’t know. How would he begin?

“Aaron?” Rossi’s hand begs for attention “You have to talk about it. Tonight while it’s still fresh.”

He knows Dave’s right.

“Hotch?!”

Aaron takes a deep, steadying breath.

“This is how it happened.”