#but i hate that just when i had a chance to actually come back

[ayyy-pee]

Request cowboy Suguru asking reader out but she doesn’t date cowboys at all. She hates them but then she gives him a chance

hi lovely!!! thank you so much for this request! IT WAS FUNNNN!!! i'm really loving the cowboy au lately so i was SUPER excited to get something out! it's fluffy and sweet and Suguru is so down bad for reader! hope you like it! <3

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Pairing: Sheriff!Suguru Geto x Bartender!Female Reader

Genre: Western/Cowboy AU

Story Warning: fluff and trust issues and Suguru being down bad for reader. what else is new?

Artist Credit: @aransmind

“You again? I already told you no the last time you brought your tail in here.”

You wipe along the countertop of the saloon bar, trying to clean up the mess left behind by beers and shots of whiskey purchased throughout the day. It’s been a long one, and you’re ready to lock up and head home. It’s just a matter of getting this place cleaned up. This bartop is old, the stains still lingering and apparently unremovable. Just like this damn patron who just can’t seem to leave you the hell alone. 

Just like this damn patron who has slowly been worming his way under your skin, despite your best efforts to resist.

Pink lips pout from the other side of the bar, and all you can do is chuckle, shaking your head.

“I haven’t even said a thing!” A man whines. You place his normal drink in front of him, smiling when he dramatically sighs contently after he takes a sip.

You’re back to cleaning up, arranging your glasses. “I already know what’s comin’. Please, no begging today. ”

A soft laugh falls from the man’s lips as he speaks. “I ain’t a beggin’ man, ___. You gotta know that, but you make a beggar outta me every time I come in here and see ya.”

Another chuckle bubbles from your chest as you stare down the man leaning his elbow on your squeaky clean counter now. You smack his arm off with your towel, quickly swiping at the spot left behind. “You’ll just have to keep beggin’ because I said nooooo,” you sing. “And that’s not changin’.”

“But–”

“Sheriff Suguru,” you sigh, no actual annoyance in your tone, because how could you be annoyed when he stares up at you with those pretty eyes of his you’ve gotten used to seeing every day for the last few months? “You’ve been comin’ in here for how long now? Askin’ me the same question and gettin’ the same answer. Don’t you ever know when to quit?”

At this, the Sheriff takes his hat off, placing it on the bar before shooting you what you assume he thinks is his most charming smile. It doesn’t work.

“Now, Miss ___, do you think if I knew when to give up, I woulda made Sheriff?” He combs his fingers through his silky long hair that somehow never seems to hold even a speck of dirt in it, despite you both residing in the dry and dusty desert.

He’s as pretty as the first day he came in.

------

The day Suguru became Sheriff, his buddies brought him into your saloon to celebrate, ordering a shot for damn near everybody in town. Who wouldn’t want to come celebrate the new Sheriff in town? Anybody who was anybody would be there! You were just lucky that the party was happening in your bar, excited to make a good chunk of change for the night.

Did you really want to spend your entire night catering to a bunch of cowboys? Absolutely not. You’re not particularly a fan, but again, the money will make it worth it.

But it’s been almost an hour past close, you’re standing behind the bartop as the deputies are still rowdy and drinking. You don’t mind much, but you are tired and ready to go. Even the idea of making more money doesn’t feel appealing when you’re ready to just crawl into your bath and try not to fall asleep.

“Aren’t you pretty?” Suguru had slurred from across the bar, in the same seat that would soon become his regular spot. “When do ya get off work, Miss…?”

You give him your name, polite but to the point. “And soon as y’all get outta my bar,” you quip, which makes Suguru laugh.

He leans forward, close enough so you could hear him over the noise of his deputies drunkenly singing behind him. “I’ll tell ‘em all to go home right now.”

It’s an offer that’s tempting, but you don’t want to rain on their parade no matter how tired you are. The money will be good, and you need it. So you roll your eyes at playfully, as you ask teasingly. “Won’t you be lonely without all your friends?”

Your cheekiness only makes Suguru grin wider. “Yeah,” he answers quickly. “Probably will be.” He rubs his chin, closing his eyes and pulling his brows together as if he’s in deep thought. “But maybeeee,” he drags the word out. “I won’t be so lonely if a pretty lady like yourself comes home with me.”

You mimic Suguru’s earlier position, closing your eyes and rubbing your chin as you think really hard about his offer. You let the suggestion hang between the two of you, and Suguru takes this time to let his eyes take you in.

Beautiful. Smart, he thinks. Quick on your feet. Makes one hell of a drink, one of the best he’s had. Yeah, he wants you. This town is full of pretty women. He’s not without options. And while he’s already had his fill of some of them, it’s you who’s caught his eye in a way they haven’t. 

He waits for you to give him an answer. But you don’t. Not by any fault of your own. It’s because one of his deputies – Satoru – is now leaning over the bar and giving you his best flirtatious smile now that he’s caught your attention. It’s left Suguru sitting on the sidelines to watch your interaction. It looks like Satoru is getting more out of you than he is.

You’re smiling, laughing as you pour him some water, because he doesn’t drink. But minutes later, you’re still chatting with his colleague, leaned over and a little too close for his liking. You’re supposed to be talking to him, entertaining him. He’s the Sheriff now! Wayyyy more important than some damn bottom of the barrel deputy!

Okay, that’s the liquor talking. But still. He wants to be who you’re focused on.

“Hey, Miss!” Suguru calls, grabbing your attention for a brief moment. “Just waitin’ for your answer.”

He sees the way you seem to barely remember that you were speaking with him before, nodding before you lean your elbow on the bar and yell, loud enough for all to hear, “NO.”

And it…makes Suguru’s heart beat faster, makes his lips curl in a smile that he has to hide behind his whiskey glass. 

Yeah, he likes you. He thinks he’ll come by more often.

------

Months later, and this man hasn’t let up. He’s always been friendly, too friendly in your opinion. That long hair, those pretty eyes and even prettier smile are deadlier than the gun hanging in his holster. He’s a smooth talker, which you’re sure helped him move up the ranks of the town deputies. But you’ve always been resistant to his charms. Or at least, tried to be. 

Sheriff Suguru is extremely attractive, pleasant to talk to when he isn’t trying to ask you on a date, and once again, too friendly. Especially with the women in town. From what you’ve heard, he’s been leaving a trail of broken hearts in his wake since he arrived. Which is exactly why you’re not interested in going out on a date with him, no matter how charming and funny you find him to be. You’ll be damned if you end up being another name on his long list of conquests. 

Besides, you’ve dated a few cowboys in your day and they’re all the same; big egos, big mouths and big fuckin’ pains in your ass. And most times not a big enough dick to back all that up. Every one of those relationships were a waste of your time and you’re not interested in wasting any more of it on yet another cowboy.

“Just one date,” Suguru begins his regular spiel. "Lemme take you out somewhere. Promise it’ll be worth it,” Suguru tells you, and you scoff. He sounds just like the rest of them.

“Doubt it.”

“You won’t let me take you out, just one time, Miss?”

“Sheriff, I’ve seen ya ‘round town. You take a lot of ladies out,” you note, watching his eyes widen just slightly. “Why not just ask one of them?”

And it’s true. You’ve seen Suguru in the town square chatting it up with any woman whose direction he looks in. He’s the most eligible bachelor in the town. Kind, handsome, a damn good shot and a damn good Sheriff. Any woman worth their salt wants him. If he were in any other occupation, you’d maybe make an exception. But he’s not. He’s a cowboy.

You don’t date cowboys.

At this Suguru stands, holding a hand up, which he waves a little frantically between you. “Now hold on! I run into a lotta ladies in town. Don’t mean I’m takin’ ‘em out anywhere.” His face is serious now, lips pressed together in a hard line. “I know I got quite a reputation, Miss ___. I ain’t stupid,” Suguru mutters. “I hear the ramblins ‘round town. Not all of ‘em are a lie,” he says honestly. And you’re just about to speak up when he cuts you off. “But, not all of ‘em are true, either.”

You swipe at a spot on the bar, the same stain you know will never come out of the wood. You don’t look at him, you don’t want to look at him. Because you hear sincerity in his tone, and that scares you. It shatters this image you’ve built up of him in your mind of this playboy Sheriff who’s good for nothing but a quick fuck at the brothel. Makes you want to give in because maybe he really isn’t like all the rest.

You don’t know any other cowboys who would be as committed as he seems to be to trying to woo you. Day after day, weeks after weeks, months after months of rejection from you. And yet, he still shows up. He still asks. He still tells you that he’ll treat you right. That he’ll take care of you. Is it really that crazy to think that he’s different?

Giggles coming from the other side of the saloon burst the little bubble you’re in with the Sheriff and your eyes dart to the source. A table of four women, sitting in the back of the saloon and whispering what you’re sure are filthy things as they stare at the back of Suguru’s head. He doesn’t look, eyes glued to you and the way you’re still moving that damned towel over that godforsaken stain that you and him both know ain’t goin’ anywhere.

“I don’t date cowboys, Sheriff,” you mutter weakly. “They don’t take nothin’ serious, and I don’t got time for the heartache.”

Suguru sighs, taking his seat again. “Can’t you see I’m serious about you? I’ve been comin’ here for so long tryin’ to show you I ain’t playin’ any games here, Miss ___.”

‘That don’t change my answer.’ Is what you want to say, but the words get caught in your throat.

You both let the silence hang between you. He lets you get back to work, slowly sipping his drink while you finish tending the bar. But his eyes are still on you, watching how you began gently nibbling on your lip ever since Suguru told you again that he’s really not joking when it comes to you, like you’re lost in thought over his words. 

“Pardon me, Sheriff?” A soft voice calls to Suguru at the bar.

Your back is turned, but your ears perk up when you hear the Sheriff greet someone back, a woman. The conversation is short, her asking him questions that you can’t really hear. There are laughs from her, chuckles from Suguru and then of course, the lady asking him what he’s doing later tonight. The implication is clear, and you roll your eyes, because you almost gave into yet another cowboy and set yourself up for heartbreak.

But Suguru groans, awkwardly running his fingers through his locks as he tells the woman that he’s got plans with someone he’s been waiting to see for a long time.

“Family?” She asks, the disappointment clear in her voice. He laughs, shaking his head.

“No. Well, hope I’m not bein’ too forward, but maybe one day. If she ever lets me in, I think I’ll be able to convince her.”

“Oh!” The woman squeaks, not expecting that. And neither were you, because you freeze halfway through putting a bottle of whiskey back on the shelves behind the bar.

“Special lady then,” the woman mumbles.

“Very.”

She dismisses herself shortly after. And as the noise dies down, and the saloon empties out, you hear the telltale signs of the Sheriff getting ready to go, always the last customer. He sits his hat back atop his head, fishing out his money and leaving it on the bar for you. You meet his gaze, and he gives you a smile. Even with yet another rejection under his belt, he doesn’t seem angry or bitter. There’s no resentment behind his eyes. He harbors no negative feelings towards you. His smile is genuine and kind, like it’s always been every time you shut him down.

“Have a good night, Miss ___. Get home safe,” he says, spinning on his heel.

The quiet jingling of his boot spurs fills the air, and to you, at least in your head, it almost symbolizes alarm bells ringing. And you call out to him, grabbing his attention.

“Sheriff,” you place the towel down, coming out from behind the bar to stand face to face with the man you’ve only ever stood at least four feet away from. This close distance feels more intimate than any other time you’ve been around each other, and your heart pounds loudly in your ears as you ask, “Mind walkin’ me home?”

[slaying-rxna]

Hello again, Rina! It's still me. I hope you passed your exams successfully and I think your writing is quite good, but I'd recommend you to use synonyms to avoid unnecessary repetitions. And I also want to ask you to write about Kinich and fem!reader getting caught in the rain, but instead of returning to the shelter, fem!reader starts dancing with him.

Dancing with the rain

➳Genre:Fluff

➳Trope:Kinich x fem!reader

➳Warnings:Idk just some pure cute fluff

➳Might be Ooc, I HC that Kinich hates the rain, might contain grammar mistakes

➳Word count:0.8k

People would view Kinich as unkind or cold. Yet you beg to differ when you know how kind he actually is, yet his companion isn't. Ajaw is quite an insufferable menace even you can tell. Yet the two of them are quite a good duo, one is silent as space while the other is much noisier than the screams of a thousand people.

So you were more than happy that Ajaw kept his mouth shut when the rain had its downpour during one of your outdoor date into the mountains. Knowing that he would just insult both of you for this supposed 'horrible' weather, but it's quite surprising that a rain would befall to natlan, managing to experience a downpour was very rare “I apologize, I should've known it would rain”

“Come, let's seek shel-” he attempted to walk keep you away from the rain yet he noticed that you only stared into the sky. The rain was violent, the sound of pitter-patter was loud. Not to mention both your shoes are wet. Yet with your smile you made the rain a placid downpour, a state of tranquility.

The kind man only gazed through you, never looking so surprised as he did now you looked perfect yet never had he expected that you would enjoy the rain. “Don't apologize” Your voice seeped through. Although both of you were quite drenched within the range of the stream, the couple could only stay in its place. Despite Kinich not liking the rain he still remained in his position with you. He could never leave you alone.

Noticing a smile from your lips Kinich stared at you with his greenish-yellow eyes “Do you like the rain?” Kinich questioned you, although he knows the answer that will come off from your mouth.

“I don't like the rain…I love the rain” you responded to his question. A gentle smile etched into your face. While Kinich stared at you, looking so happy. “How about you?”

Returning his question, looking at him with hopeful eyes. He hates the rain, the way it would wet his clothes was annoying how could you even ask him tha- “I like the rain too”

Chuckling at his answer, you reached out your arms inviting him. “Would you like to dance then?”

“A dance?” Kinich heard that couples would sometimes go out and enjoy the rain by dancing. Kinich can dance, although you've never seen him before Mualani had a conversation with you regarding dancing. While she said that he's very good at it.

Kinich gently accepted your offer by holding your inviting arms. As both of your hands unite, you're the one that started slowly. Stepping back with your right foot the two of you danced along the raging downpour. Although the chances of getting sick were absurdly high, you managed to seek comfort within its range.

Moving along with each flow, you looked like a divine angel under Kinich’s view. The way your body went along elegantly within each second. Although Kinich didn't show it through his face, he was more than happy to be with you.

Perhaps the rain didn't ruin your date, if anything it brought luck perhaps the two of you should start a rain date. Even if he came to hate the rain, if you're in it he can love it. Continuing the slow dance both the couple were happy. Twirling around him a flow of happiness washed through you, the rain slowly calmed down as if following the flow of your dance.

Following the climax, you came to forget all of your problems. The rain had never been more beautiful with him. His hair was quite messy yet he looked pretty handsome, like this.

As the dance came through an end, the wave of happiness was replaced with tiredness seeping through. Kinich brushed through your soaked hair “I never knew you can dance so elegantly, my angel” the man complimented you as the rain had come to an end.

While the rain finally ended, Kinich immediately suggested going back home since it was getting quite dark, and that the two of you could change your wet clothes. You agreed to his suggestions as your every walk made a droplet fall through the ground.

Reaching through the doors, Kinich instantly went inside first and grabbed a towel for you. As a small smile appeared into your tired body. Finishing your quick change, the first scent that greeted you was the smell of warm choco milk.

“Here, I figured you might get cold after experiencing such a heavy downfall” He spoke with such a gentle and worried voice. “Thank you, dear.” You grabbed the mug drinking the warm choco. It was hot yet not enough to cause a burn in your tongue. It wasn't too sweet either.

A beam of appreciation was shown into your smile, minding your own business, while he could only look at you lovingly. They say nobody was perfect, he believed it until he met you. He wouldn't mind embracing the things he loathed as long as he was with you.

===============================

Small note:Hello again ^^ thank you for your request alongside your suggestion, however it may appear again in the future as English isn't really my first language but I will try my best ^^. Apologies it came out quite late than I expected. But I hope you guys like this small drabble. My small brain ran out of ideas in the end.

Please do not translate or copy my work.

[ariaste]

A Discussion on Book Endings

Hey, friends. Thanks for coming today. I'm sorry to break it to you, but this is an intervention. Please, don't get defensive -- everyone here loves you and cares about you. But listen... I'm gonna need book readers and reviewers to reflect on the idea that finishing a book and going "Oh, I loved it so much, but I wish it was just a few pages longer!" is not really a valid point of negative critique in the assessment of a text.

Let me explain.

When I read people's otherwise wildly positive reviews of books and they say that line, I don't interpret it in context as, "This story needed to be a few pages longer for the plot to work, structurally, and for the ending to achieve a solid resolution." Rather, they basically seem to be saying simply, "I loved it and I didn't want it to end." That's always a GREAT feeling, but then they're.... taking points off from their total rating because of that??? They seem to be penalizing the author because they weren't left with a feeling of "Ugh, thank god it's over"? It's like, "This would have been five stars if it had had just one more chapter but it made me sad that it ended, so four stars" -- Guys, do we understand that's an insane take? It's insane. A book has to end. If you shriek "NO!!!" that it's over because you were having such a great time, that's... that's a symptom of a 5-star book, babes. I'm not sure why there's such a fashion these days for penalizing authors for this particular thing in this particular way, but it's really baffling to me.

But setting aside the puzzling trend of "I'm knocking points off because it ended when it should have gone on until I personally was fully bored and exhausted of it, like the 11th season of a TV show that was only supposed to go until season 4" -- listen, I guarantee you that nine times out of ten, when you're out here longing for just one more chapter or saying "this could have used an epilogue" you... are wishing for something that would have actively ruined your enjoyment and the quality of the book.

Are you a writer yourself? Have you ever finished writing a book before? Have you done it more than once? Have you deeply studied the endings of books? They are HARD, let me tell you what. Endings are so much harder than beginnings, because you're looking for that beautiful final note, like the ending of a symphony, and you're trying to ride it for a few glorious seconds before the FLOURISH and dum-dummmmmm....! and the conductor collapses as the audience bursts into applause! Right? Yes? Except that chances are that one more chapter or epilogue would ruin the pacing and resolution of the ending and muddle up the summary of the theme and thesis statement, and all of this WOULD ACTUALLY fuck up your experience of the story as a whole. For example, please consider the last Harry Potter book as an example. We all hate JKR now for being a TERF but oh, children, how quickly we forget that back in the olden times, we used to hate her for that fucking epilogue that made everything that came before feel rancid and pointless and hollow and cheap. Y'all remember how sickening and infuriating that was? Do you remember the Hunger Games epilogue? Nine times out of ten, that's what you're inexplicably wishing for.

To see this point illustrated, let's do a quick exercise together. Go pick out a piece of classical music -- some of my best suggestions for this are Beethoven's Ode to Joy, or "Der Holle Rache" from Mozart's Magic Flute, or Tchaikovsky's 1812 Overture. Listen to it all the way through. If you're struggling with scrolling addiction and your attention span has been severely damaged, fine, listen to the last two minutes ("Der Holle Rache" is the shortest, just 3 minutes). Then, after the song is done, click back to some random spot earlier in the piece, listen to another 30 seconds, and then stop. Consider: Did adding that last 30 seconds materially improve the piece, or did it undermine the overall emotional journey? Did it help the ending to stick the landing even more than it already did, or does it just feel weirdly stuck-on as an afterthought, like the "for more fun videos, check out the rest of our channel and don't forget to subscribe!!!" card at the end of youtube videos?

When you are wishing for an epilogue, my doves, you are wishing for something you do not actually want -- or which you probably would not want if you had the option to see it in practice and compare it side by side with the original. You are wishing for something that would more than likely make the story worse. You are holding the author at fault for something being wrong with the text only because you hit immersion and were having a lot of fun and didn't want to come back up for air. Like, I'm just not sure that's something that the author should be blamed for? It sounds like they were doing their job really well???

Please, just. Separate your feelings of "bittersweet disappointment that this wonderful book is over" from "frustration that the author didn't stick the landing, ugh what a flop" because they are two separate things. Before you say "I'm taking points off because I wish there was more", please take two seconds to ask yourself critical thinking questions like, "Why did the author choose to end the book here rather than in two more chapters?" because (other than a few wild outliers that should not be counted) the answer is never, "They got bored and just didn't feel like finishing the story." Chances are, they chose that specific ending for a reason. They ended it there because that's the point that underlines the thesis statement of the book, or because the emotions of that scene are the ones they want you to remember and walk away with, or because that marks the place where the story arc is genuinely over. When the author says, "And they all lived happily ever after," that means that what happily-ever-after looks like is in your hands now.

Nine times out of ten, you don't want one more chapter. Please. I promise you that you don't want one more chapter. The book is done; what you want now is either fanfiction or someone to talk about it with. Or maybe to start the book over from the beginning! Believe me, you would not want one more chapter if you had it. (Or, if you did have it and it magically didn't suck, you would just keep wanting more chapters because that's what "really enjoying the book" means. In which case, go read fanfic, that's what it is for.) I promise you, I promise you, the book would probably be worse with one more chapter and you would not like it as much. Please stop wishing for the author to be less good at their job. Please. A book has to end; so does this post. And we all live happily ever after*. The End.

----- * The post-canon coffeeshop AU sequel will be detailed exhaustively on AO3

[florencesf1blog]

cherry

'I never knew that the simple act of love could be so torturous.'

She couldn’t help herself when she heard him on the phone, Spanish fluently rolling off his tongue. He had her in a trance, completely wrapped around his finger despite the circumstances. He was cold and stoic throughout their marriage. It wasn’t one of love; that much was obvious. But she had hope that their arrangement could spark something new. Even after six months of nothing, she held on to this dream, this pure fantasy she’d never have.

Sitting down next to him, she graciously lifts her legs up onto the pillows of the couch. Carlos couldn’t be bothered to give her the time of day, staring out in front of him as he conversed in his phone call. But she was ever so desperate, resting her chin on his shoulder to try and give him unwanted affection. He shoots her a quick glare as she trails kisses along his sharp jaw, his muscles tensing under her strangely loving touch. His entire body stays frozen, set like stone as he finishes his conversation over the phone. She sees this as an opportunity, a chance to make her move. She should know better now, right? But that feeling of the acknowledgement in the past lingered and motivated her to keep going.

She sits herself down on her knees, pressing into the soft cushion of the couch. A gentle hand caresses the side of his unmoving face, her fingers tracing over the slight stubble that started to reappear. She leans in to press a kiss on his unloving lips, giving it her all for nothing. It was like kissing a dead body. Cold and unreciprocated. He allowed it to happen, not yet bothering to push her off.

Carlos had tried many times before with her. It wasn’t in his nature, he’d often tell himself. He wasn’t exactly a loving creature. But he found her pathetic, to say the least. He didn’t want to admit that he hated himself for not feeling anything towards the woman he married. Or that he should feel so, but actually couldn’t come to care at all about her. His own wife. The dull look in his eyes remains when he gently pushes you off, clearing his throat. He hadn’t managed to enjoy himself with you once. Despite all of your effort. He hates being bored, and so he decided to tot with her for his own amusement.

“I need to ask you something.”

She lets him push her off, not minding it in the slightest. The fact that he was speaking to her and giving her any form of attention was just enough. Her wide eyes stared back at him as she tried her hardest to be alert and attentive to his needs. Oh, she was completely struck by him. And she wanted so badly to get something out of him. Her head tilts slightly at the question. “mm?”

“How would you feel if I saw someone else?” he asks subtly, trying to hide his own amusement. He didn’t feel obliged to ask her. No, not at all. This was just his own strange form of amusement. He holds eye contact, gauging her reaction. The excitement in her demeanor and the look in her eyes completely shatter at that question. Crumbled. Her body was slightly slumping. She didn’t want him to see how it had affected her, afraid he’d be dissatisfied. Only if she knew.

Her voice stayed ever so gently as she spoke, quiet as if she wished not to break the silence that fell after his oh so devastating question. “Uh,” she hesitates, just momentarily. “Would that make you happy?”

“It would,” he replies bluntly, not bothering sugarcoating anything. He never truly cared why you thought anyway. Why would he? He was only married to you because his parents told him to. The promise of his inheritance at the price of marrying a stranger. He had every right to his own fun, he told himself. She was simply a body that came with that marriage, that deal. So, why does he still feel bad saying all these things?

Those words didn’t make her feel any better, her heart shattering at the thought. He’d be so much happier with another woman. Anyone but her. What a pain to bear with herself. Trying to tell herself she shouldn’t care so much, she replies. “I don’t mind,” she says, so gentle and kind as if her own husband wasn’t asking for permission to cheat. She was lying through her teeth, and Carlos saw right through her false act.

But he was intrigued. Despite your strange relationship dynamic, he had been somewhat surprised with your absence of complications. For some reason, he had expected somewhat more of a fight. Maybe some questioning as to why he would want somebody else. Instead, you crumbled like a house of cards in front of him. “Really?” he asks, only to receive a quick nod in return.

She was clueless as to why he had asked her in the first place. Very much aware of her position, she knew not to deny him anything. It wouldn’t matter if she did. He would do as he pleased, despite her yes or no answer. On top of that, she was incredibly eager. All in the hope that he would be somewhat pleased with her. Proud.

Carlos felt his ego boost up tenfold. It was almost too easy, watching your meek state give into anything he’d ask you. She was supposed to be his wife. Yet she sat next to him like some obedient little puppy. He wanted to test all his luck. See how far he could take this. How far you could really go before you truly fell to pieces.

“Good girl,” he smirks, leaning forward to pat her head. It was a truly degrading action, but he knew she’d enjoy any positive attention he’d give. And he only becomes more smug when a small smile appears on her face at the manner. The slightest bit of affection, if you could even call it that, had made her feel some sort of pride. Like an outstanding achievement. As if she had truly accomplished something by doing so little. By making her husband somewhat happy. Pleased. Pleased with her.

Falling to pieces for his sake.

A/N: wow/ quick comeback from the dead ig? dont know where this one came from but it did. please let me know what u all think cause i truly enjoyed writing this/ ill be making some minor changes to my account and hopefully upload more (no promises).

[yuujispinkhair]

I also got emotional reading the 3 panels of Sukuna and Uraume😭

The thing is, Uraume was most likely born as albino. In Heian Era there's a term they call albinos "cursed child". Pretty much anything abnormal was treated like a monster in that Era.

Sukuna must of took them in because he saw himself in them. They both must of had the same hate towards the world hence choosing the revenge path.

There's a whole theory Japanese Fandom made that Sukuna was under Tengen at one point and dropped off as the "fallen one". (Tengen even put Sukuna's corpse in honorable way because she felt sorry or to reduce her sin for not able to stop Sukuna).

Maybe that other path he was mentioning was staying under Tengen.

If only they were born in a world where they were accepted, they would of lived in peace.

Imma go cry in the corner now😭

Exactly this 😭😭 The world around them hated them just for the way they were born. Those "freak children" like Sukuna and Uraume never had a chance because they were seen as something evil. It makes me want to love Sukuna so much and show him that he is someone who deserves love and kindness, too 😭

What I thought when I saw the woman on the other path was that maybe there was actually someone in Sukuna's past who loved him and who offered him a happy life by her side, but Sukuna turned her down because he thought his curse would only hurt her and himself, and therefore he chose the path of solitude and revenge 😭😭

It breaks my heart so much that Sukuna was treated like this by the world and that everyone painted him as the heartless monster and the villain when he was a victim, too. If people had been accepting of him despite the circumstances of his birth + the way he looked/the power he had, Sukuna could have had another life, that could have been peaceful and happy.

It's just like Yuuji said to him. Yuuji was born with the same "curse" inside him, but he had his grandpa who loved him and guided him, and therefore, Yuuji didn't become a monster. But Sukuna didn't have that person when he was a child. And later on, even if someone reached out, it was already too late because Sukuna wasn't able anymore to imagine that someone like him could have a good life.

I am so grateful that in the end, Yuuji treated Sukuna with love and kindness. Sukuna died being loved and accepted by someone and it really managed to change him 😭

Yuuji taught Sukuna love and broke the cycle with that. Now, the next time Sukuna comes back, he will not be the villain anymore but choose the other path and will have a chance to live a peaceful and happy life 😭 Oh I will cry about this for days 😭

[glassrowboat]

Imposter. Baizhu.

Summary: That time of your month was always dreadful, made you want to hide away and forget all about the outside world, but perhaps it wasn't so awful with someone there with you.

Word count: 800+

“Is this the part where you tell me you hate being a woman again?”

The bed dipped beside you, creaking with the effort to adjust and support Baizhu's weight on the mattress you were currently curled up on in a bundle of blankets and pillows. Nesting, he had called it, a hand over his mouth as Baizhu tried not to out right laugh at you when he knew it would only result in a pillow being flung at both his and Changsheng’s faces for only one of those two is capable of properly dodging your fury.

“I don't say that.” You grumbled into your shirt. Or, rather, his shirt you claimed as your own. In the end, the difference was all the same.

“You do. Every month, actually.” Changsheng remarked.

You didn't get a chance to tell the overgrown noodle to shut it before Baizhu was chastising her in your place with a “Now really isn't the time to argue with her.”

“Because she might have our heads?”

“Precisely.”

You rolled your eyes at the two's interaction. “I can hear you, you know.”

“Oh, I know, my petal.” His hand cupped your cheek, bringing your gaze up to meet his slitted eyes, staring back at you with a bathymsal nature you couldn't help but be curious about every morning he painted red eyeshadow to his lids in the grace of a fresh morning's light; an unasked question never failing to make your lips tingle. “But we can call it payback for having me run all the way to the store for you in the middle of working hours.”

Your nose scrunched when he tapped the tip of your nose before going to the bag he had dropped on the bed next to him when Baizhu sat down earlier, the rustling drawing your attention.

“You could have sent Qiqi.”

“I could have, yes,” Baizhu nodded, “but you can be rather peculiar about the things you need during this time. I doubt Qiqi would have been able to remember exactly what you needed even if I did write it down for her.”

“Picky.” Changsheng huffed, not bothering to soften her words like the man she's currently wrapped around had a habit of doing. Her scales shifted as she turned her head to look down at the box Baizhu pulled out. Tongue flicking.

“And I appreciated the walk. It's a fine day.”

You looked over at the closed blinds, the light from outside only barely peeking through to leave a glowing line of yellow on the floor. “Wouldn't know.”

“No, I imagine you wouldn't. Though, regular exercise helps with the cramps, my petal. I suggest that once you have had some time to let the medication I made you set in, you come downstairs, and we can drink some tea and share these.” Another item was pulled from the bag, one you didn't even notice until now as a package of fine tea, full moon cakes were held before you.

“You of all people encouraging me to eat something sweet? How ghastly.” You gasped, hand coming out from your nest of blankets to place it over your wide open mouth. “Clearly you're a Baizhu imposter.”

“Hush you.”

On his shoulders, Changsheng snickered, just like you were, at his half-hearted glare.

Taking his hand, you pulled it close, bringing it to your lips that had been bearing a grimace for most of the afternoon, only to now be sporting a smile at the sight of him before you. “Thank you, Baizhu imposter, you're the sweetest.”

He sighed, looking you up and down as your touch trailed over the black glove he wore, always hiding away skin he refused to let you see with claims it's not a pretty sight. As if anything about him wasn't pretty. “You are awful. Always teasing me.”

“Stop making it so easy, then.”

Behind his glasses, Baizhu rolled his eyes at your wink. “Kisses and flirting won't get you out of taking your medicine.”

Changsheng chimed in with a “You have to admire her willingness to try.”

“Oh, fuck you both.” You said, dropping his hand.

“Maybe later, my petal, but for now, I need you to rest.” A kiss fell to the top of your head, nose nudging itself into your hair, and the charm of his glasses, cold as it was, tickled your cheek. “Then we can have our treats later.”

Another squeak of the mattress sounded as he got up, moving to the door with Changsheng still stubbornly wrapped around his neck. Eventually she'd come wiggling back through that very same door to check on you for him, but for now her little head was bobbing with every step Baizhu took.

“Hey imposter.” You called, watching him turn his head, green hair swaying with the movement to look back at you. “I love you. And, thank you for your help.”

His lips quicked up, a fang barely poking out. “I love you too.”

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

One For The Road [6]

Cecil Dennis x afab!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals •Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | requestinfo• ko-fi •

Series Masterlist

Summary: You need to get some answers.

A/N: Ahh, we have reached the end! A massive thank you to @thexsanctuaryx for beta reading this series! <3

Warnings: Cecil crying (a lot), talk of pregnancy, anxiety, there's a happy ending, swearing, please let me know if I've missed a warning!

Word Count: 1319

Your first instinct is to leave. Just go. Walk out and drive home and delete his number and never talk to him again. 

But then his panicked face and pleading eyes echoed in your mind, reverberating to the point of madness. 

Just go. Walk out and drive home and delete his number and ignore him for a few days.

But that seemed cruel too. 

You’d only just been doing whatever the hell you and Cecil had been doing recently. Neither of you had talked about what you actually were and besides, it definitely seemed like Danielle and him were no longer seeing each other, or sleeping together. Or…

You needed to know. At the very least, you owed yourself answers.

So, instead, you moped around the house a little, picking halfheartedly at the pancakes Cecil had been making, the ones he’d finished now cold. 

In the rush he’d left his phone upstairs, so it wasn’t as if you could message him about when he’d be back. 

You didn’t know when Harry would return either. Part of you toys with the idea of leaving a note or message for him to contact you when he gets back, just so you could go home and sidestep any possible awkward conversations. 

Just as you are considering what to write, the front door slams open with the kind of force that should have, but luckily didn’t, rip it off its hinges. 

Cecil bursts inside, wide eyed, sweaty, and panicked. He looks delirious, like he’s run twenty miles in the desert with no water. 

He almost doesn’t notice you sitting at the kitchen table as he falls inside, but he manages to stop his body from running up the stairs and grabbing his phone when he sees you. 

Your name falls out of his lips nervously, a whispered mumble that breaks a little at the end. His eyes teary. 

He takes a step forward, his hands twitching at his sides as he goes to reach out for you, but he stops himself. 

“She’s not pregnant.”

You don’t get a chance to answer as all his words come out in a rush of sound. 

“She’s not pregnant, I promise, look I even got the doctor to give me proof.” He pulls out a folded piece of paper from his jeans. “It’s got her signature and the doctor’s contact info, you can check it all online too, make sure it’s real. She said you can call her to confirm that Danielle’s not pregnant, I explained to her, to the Doctor, she was really nice, she said she’d talk to you and-”

“Cecil,” you say softly as you stand and take his shaking hands in yours. “It’s okay.”

“Danielle– we slept together a few times about two months ago, but I always used a condom, always, and they didn’t break. And then we stopped hanging out because she’s…”

You wait, giving him space to finish as you stroke his hand.

“She’s kind of mean, and then we don’t talk, she blocks me and suddenly a few weeks ago she messages me saying she’s pregnant and I’m the Dad and I need to send her all this money.” He looks up at you hopefully. “I, I don’t have that kind of money… She wanted me to go to the first doctor’s appointment and, I think she really did think she was pregnant, but she wasn’t. And, and she told me the date, it was next week. For sure. I remember, I have the message, I can show you. It wasn’t today. Otherwise… otherwise…”

“It’s okay.” You give him a reassuring smile and take the doctor’s letter out of his hands and place it on the table. 

“You hate me…” His voice completely breaks at the end, his face crumpling as the dam bursts and tears start to flow. 

“Shh, shh, shh,” you wrap your arms around him quickly, holding him close and squeezing him tight. You rub his back as he weeps into you, burying his face into your neck. “How could I hate you, hmm?” You kiss his temple and he cries harder. 

“You hate my kisses that much? They make you cry?” You tease lightly, trying to cheer him.

He shakes his head rapidly, still sobbing, but trying to stop. “I love them.” He insists through tears. 

“Yeah?” You kiss his temple again, and then his cheek.

“Yeah, yes, I love them so much, I love you.” He blurts out and then sobs harder in the beat of silence that follows. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m-”

“Shhh,” you lean back so you can hold his face in both of your hands and look into his eyes. “Why are you sorry, sweet thing?” 

“I, I, I,” he hiccups and swallows trying to force his tears down. “I thought you’d be gone and never speak to me again, and I ran all the way here back from the doctor’s because I didn’t want to be in the car with her for a second longer, and you hate me and now I said I love you and I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.”

You stroke his cheeks with your thumbs and kiss his lips lightly. His breathing hitches. 

“Cecil,” you say softly, “take a seat and I’ll get you some water.” 

He shakes his head, “Can I hold your hand while you get water?” 

You smile, your chest heavy and you nod. 

He holds your bicep, pressing his forehead against your shoulder as you fill a glass. He sits when you guide him to the table and takes the water when you offer it. He drinks quickly, trying to swallow as much as possible to please you. 

“Hey, don’t choke.” You say gently, taking the glass out of his hands - half full - and sit down next to him. 

He looks at you sadly from under his wet lashes, little shudders of his cries echoing on his body. “I get it… if you don’t want to ever see me again.” 

“Cecil,” You stroke his hair and he presses his head to your hand, closing his eyes. “It’s okay. I promise.” 

His eyes snap open as he looks at you, confusion and shock plastered all over his face. “You…?”

“Me…?” You tease a little. 

“You don’t hate… you want to…?” 

“I want you dummy,” you smile and kiss him again gently, a soft brush of your lips to his.

He moves after you quickly, deepening in kiss and moaning softly. The moment he pulls back he’s crying again. “Sorry, sorry, sorry,” he waves his hand and wipes at his eyes, “happy tears, happy tears.”

“You’re so sweet.” You give his hand a little squeeze. 

He shakes his head. “I’m a piece of shit. I should have told you… I just didn’t…” He sighs, “I didn’t want to put you off. You’re already so kind and hot and put together, and I’m just-”

“Shh.” You grin and he smiles back. “Besides, we’re not… we never talked about being… you know. We never set any boundaries.” 

He nods. “I’d like to… be like… going steady.” 

You can’t help but giggle at the sincere way he says it, the honesty in his tone just causes joy to bubble in your chest. 

His smile widens as you laugh. “Is that a yes?” 

You nod. “Yes.” 

He grins wildly and kisses all over your face repeatedly until you're laughing so hard you almost can’t breathe. 

“Sorry, sorry,” he chuckles as he moves back. 

“Stop saying sorry.” 

“Sorry.” 

You snort and then pause. “Would you still like to come over to mine?” 

His eyes widen a little, glittering in the light. “Three day food and fuck weekend?” 

You let out a bark of laughter and nod. “Three day food and fuck weekend.” 

He kisses you again, sweetly this time. “I don’t deserve you.” He whispers against your lips.

“That’s okay. I don’t deserve you either.” 

Thank you for reading!

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[gothamhappiness]

Being in a relationship with Bruce Wayne: a journey - Hi, Jason (Part V)

It's a big series about an afab!reader who doesn't like Bruce Wayne and who still falls in love with him (he fells quicker and harder)

Reader's origin story // Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4

Warnings: no proof reading, Jason's relationships with Bruce and Dick are discussed, mentions of Joker, violence, death

You met with Dick again in a bookstore. At first, you thought that it was quite a strange coincidence, until you saw him trying to talk with a very big boy who didn’t seem very interested in talking with him. Dick appeared upset ; the other boy was just shrugging and trying to focus on the books in front of him. 

You hesitated to go to them; you didn’t want to intrude. You weren’t too sure to recognise the other boy, but his face somehow seemed familiar. What decided you was where they were standing: the classic literature aisle of the store. Which was what you were looking for when you entered the shop.

You thought you could just say hi and then leave them alone if your presence was annoying them. You carefully walked to them.

“Hey Dick” you greeted the boy who turned around and instantly smiled at you. 

You weren’t too sure if it was a real smile yet, so you didn’t come closer to him, but his answer showed he was actually glad to see you.

“Hey, Y/N! What are you doing here?” he asked

“Buying books I guess.” you teased “I was looking for Mansfield Park or Emma, now I finished Pride and Prejudice” you said. 

The big boy to whom Dick was trying to talk to, quickly turned around and looked you up and down. He watched you with curiosity sparkling in his green eyes. Dick took his chance before his brother could go back to the cover of the book he was holding.

“Y/N, this is Jason, my little brother. You seem to share the same taste in books” Dick introduced the two of them

“Hi, Jason” you smiled as you cautiously observed him, remembering who he was now you knew his name.

You remembered what you read about Bruce and his son “who came back from the dead” and all the headlines about “Bruce arguing with his adoptive son”. It had quite broken your heart at the time.

“You’re Bruce’s new girlfriend?” he asked you quite bluntly

“I hate titles and I hate to feel like a possession. But yes, I'm currently seeing Bruce.” you replied and Jason nodded “I’m surprised you heard about me.” you added. 

“Didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. It's just that things are rocky with Bruce.” Jason said and you reassuringly smiled at him “And yeah, everyone is talking about you in the “family”. Dick and Tim said you were nice.” Jason explained his first coldness to you

“I understand; Bruce isn’t always easy and you don’t know me” you nodded

“Ah yeah?” Jason arched an eyebrow at you. 

He had expected you to take Bruce’s defence, like everyone else.

“Let’s say that I like challenges.” you smiled “And I’m not Bruce’s lawyer” you joked

“You should thank god for that, or you would have a lot of work” Jason grinned and you could tell Dick was quite happy about the current interaction.

“Can I buy the two of you a drink or something? Or a meal” you asked. “There is this sweet little café right outside the bookstore” you offered

You actually wanted to know more of them. Jason was curious about you so he agreed. Dick wanted to come as well, but he quickly received a call from Büdhaven. He reluctantly left the two of you together. Dick would have enjoyed some time with his brother too, but maybe you would help. If you helped with Bruce, he was certain you could do pretty much anything. At the same time, he really hoped Jason wasn’t going to scare you away from the family as a way to avenge himself.

But you knew better; you had met Red Hood before and you liked him.

You settled in the café. You started to talk about literature at first. You were both passionate so it was a good conversation starter. You gave each other some recommendations and debated on characters you liked or disliked. Your point of views on characters were often based on your experiences, so it naturally led to a conversion about each other’s lives. And of course, you arrived at the subject of Bruce Wayne.

“I’ll tell him to apologise to you. He shouldn’t have acted that way even if I do agree with the no killing rule” you said “You’re both right in a way, but… Bruce should have talked to you, he should have let you know what was going on with the Joker and why he couldn’t kill him. Why you couldn't kill him either. He should have been there to appease your anger, not the opposite” you said

“You’ll quickly learn that he doesn’t talk much. Especially not about his feelings. If it gets too personal, he’ll push the subject away. If it can hurt him, he’ll run away. He's a bad dad for that. And he might be a bad partner to you as well” Jason told you

“I’m sorry about what happened to you. It must have been so difficult to wake up without your family. And in a body you didn’t know. You did good, despite the murders and everything. Actually, Red Hood has always been my favourite vigilante” you admitted without commenting on the last part of Jason’s words. You wanted to believe that Bruce would make an effort for you.

Jason chuckled as you mentioned his vigilante persona.

“It’s true you never wrote anything bad about me. I thought you were scared of me… Until I realised we actually met” he teased, his eyes litting up

“Oh you remember? Yes I used to live in your territory, and now I’m nearby. I stand by what I said that night: I know what you did for people like us, that’s why I thanked you. Bruce can’t understand what it is to be poor and lost and to have to do bad things to survive. But I’ll make sure he does better with you.” you said “Just promise me to speak with Dick. Your brother looks like he is very eager to have you back in his life. He seemed very sorry you weren’t speaking with him earlier” you added

“I will try to talk with him again then. Thank you for… Thank you. I think I really needed to have this conversation with somebody but no one wanted to have it and I couldn’t really go to a therapist. You’re easy to talk with” he whispered, a little bit awkward

“I know” you smiled “I’m glad if I’ve been able to help”

“Is it your good action of the day to go to Heaven?” Jason joked 

“Absolutely” you giggled

A moment of comfortable silence engulfed the two of you. You both enjoyed your tea before you resumed talking:

“Hey you know what, this is my phone number. You can call or text me whenever you need it.” you offered

“Why?” Jason plunged his eyes onto yours. 

He was definitely not used of adults being there for him, especially without a catch

“Well I’m afraid I’m a family woman and my own family sucks very much. And since Bruce wants me around, I’d prefer it if I can get along with his people. I’d like to take care of you all.” you admitted, feeling a little shy to say all of this out loud.

Jason was also very easy to talk to.

“I don’t think I’m one of his people. Not anymore at least.” Jason sadly smiled at you

“You can be one of mine then. Take it as a repayment for allowing me to go back home every night without having to worry about anyone slicing my throat off” you insisted

“All the pleasure’s mine” he chuckled before saving your number onto his phone “You know, everyone says Bruce is nicer since you’re around. I have to admit this is true. Maybe happiness can truly change a man” 

“Even a bat?” you joked because Jason’s words were touching you a little more than you wanted to show it

“Even a bat” Jason nodded

A few days later, you received a message from Jason, clearly tasting the water with you.

J: Hey wanna go have some lunch together today or tomorrow?

You: Today sounds good :)

After this, you regularly had lunch together and Jason clearly started to see you as a motherly figure, and you saw him as a son. He crashed at your place more than once after patrol, so you could eat together. Bruce never commented on your relationship with Jason, but he heard you when you asked him to apologise.

Which he did.

Jason accepted it and tried his best with Dick and his other siblings. He was still feeling awkward around everyone, but he was slowly spending more time at the manor, even when Bruce was there. 

When Bruce asked if you wanted to meet all of his children anytime soon, you agreed but you instantly sent a message to Jason to make sure he would be there as well. He eagerly agreed because he couldn’t wait for you to be officially a member of the Batfamily.

--

PART 6

--

Taglist for all my work <3

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[lemotmo]

My 911 8x01 thoughts

Just watched the episode!

So many thought! I have so many thoughts!

I haven’t even read any of the interviews yet. I’m just going to dump all my thoughts on the episode in this post and then I’ll get to the interviews and asks.

Also, this post might be incoherent and not chronological in any way.

First things first:

F*CK HELENA DIAZ! I wanted to reach through the TV-screen and strangle her. I was on the fence about her last season. But this? F*ck her! Seriously! I actually cried at seeing Eddie’s crestfallen face. The way she dismissed her own damn son and kinda makes it seem like Chris is better off in El Paso? The way she rubs it in his face that she has the money to install a pool? I hate it. It reeks of emotional manipulation. 🤬🤬🤬

Okay, now that that’s off my chest. Let’s get to the rest of the episode.

Let’s get Tommy out of the way first. Okay, the guy was there for 20 seconds and said 1 line. The way they all hung out together was interesting. Once again, Eddie is in the middle… visually as well. As they were hiding behind the couch and jumped up, Eddie was in the middle. They are showing us Buck and Tommy still being in that early giddy stage of a relationship, which is pretty much what Tim and Oliver talked about in their interviews.

It's funny how I care less about Tommy being there when he actually doesn’t speak.🤷‍♀️ Lou didn’t really have to do a lot of acting. Tommy just had a fun scene with Buck and Eddie and I actually didn’t mind him being there. It once again reminded us where the storyline is going. It also shows us that Eddie and Tommy are still friends, which is interesting.

I have a feeling that we will see Eddie come between them more often. Mainly because Buck will want to emotionally support Eddie as much as he can and I think Tommy might just call Buck out on that.

All right, what else? Ah the bees… I actually liked the emergencies. It’s something else than a normal natural disaster. The mom and daughter in the car was so on point. Here you have a mom who is willing to use her own epi pen to save her daughter. Most moms would act like that. (Well, unless your name is Helena Diaz of course.) I did wonder why she doesn’t carry two epi-pens. I mean, if the whole family is allergic to bees, I would probably haul around 3 or 4 of them in my purse. Not taking chances there.

The perfume emergency was so funny. I liked the lady and her assistant. They brought some comedy. Also, Eddie running off with those bees? Such a great scene. I like how they said that Eddie was the fastest runner. I know Buck’s legs are longer, but he would just bumble around, stumble and fall. He’s clumsy like that in his running. We’ve seen that before.😂

I do feel like Eddie and Buck are even more in sync than ever. The fist bumping, the sharing of thoughts, the blind trust Eddie has in Buck’s ideas is incredible. Buck suggests something and Eddie just accepts what he says and goes along with it. I love that. Their dynamic is so great! 🤗

Okay, hmmmm… ah, Gerrard. I love the actor so much! He is such a great antagonist. The way he kept targeting Buck because Buck just kept talking back is such a basic bullying move. At the end there I really thought that Buck was going to hit Gerrard, but then -clear as a bell- there was Eddie’s voice in his head telling Buck to not let Gerrard get to him. Loved that detail! And then he actually saves his life! I wonder how Gerrard will react when he wakes up? I also wonder how Tommy will react to all of this?

Bobby! Bobby has an admirer! LOL! The guy was almost simping over Bobby, trying to watch his each and every move. And his heavy British accent? Definitely a reference to Oliver. Bobby doesn’t seem to hate his new job, but it’s obvious he misses the old one.

I can smell Madney and Henren problems from miles away. I predicted this storyline and I think I’ll be right. Chimney is getting attached to Mara and Mara is feeling more and more at home with the Hans. Now, that doesn’t mean that they’ll want to keep her or anything like that, but it does mean that Hen and Karen are looking in from the sidelines.

The longer Mara stays at Madney’s house, the more Henren might feel left out. I don’t know… I smell problems coming up there. Interested to see where this will lead. Ultimately I’m pretty sure Mara will return to the Wilsons, but in the mean time they will have to create some drama there.

That brings me to my least favourite part of this episode: Athena’s storyline. Once again, Athena can do it all. How is it possible that one single police officer who has a personal history with a prisoner can get assigned to single-handedly escort and protect said prisoner from Phoenix to LA? I don’t understand why they keep giving Athena these terrible storylines where she is some kind of superwoman who can do it all and who knows it all.

This man should be escorted by more people to make sure he arrives at his destination. After that fake agent pulled her over? She should have called it in and waited for back up in the airport.

Also, the fake agent was alone in this scenario, which is a big plot hole. Why didn’t he come with back-up to ensure they would get to the prisoner? Plot holes like this just take me out of the story.

This storyline is fabricated just to put Athena on that plane with the prisoner and he’ll probably get his redemption storyline because of it. He’ll heroically save her or something like that. Or maybe he can magically fly a plane. I don’t know. I didn’t care for this storyline all that much.

I wish they would give Athena some better storylines. I love the character, but I don’t like what they keep doing to her. I don’t like the person she becomes when she goes into supercop-mode like that. Anyway, just a personal opinion. If you feel differently about this, great for you.

Overall, I really liked most of the episode. It was fun, scary, exciting and I didn’t even check once to see when it would be over. Which is always a good sign.

Onwards to next week!

[siscon-stsg]

Offering anon here. I'm giving myself an official name, which is brainfucker (or motherfucker, iykyk) anon.

First of all I'm so glad you enjoyed it ahhhh <3

Second of all it's my pleasure too!! No way I'll do this shit anywhere else 😞

Some rambles about the Y!Little Brother!Satoru with Older Sister!Reader who was the previous strongest.

I imagine reader to be around 9 years older than Satoru.

You had a VERY harsh upbringing. I'm talking Zen'in level abuse. You were forced into the role at such a young age, having no friends whatsoever. But unlike Satoru, you were given nothing.

The only thing they had was the title.

So imagine how you felt when Satoru came into the picture. Oh the rage you felt, pure unadulterated hatred.

The abuse you received, all the harsh Trainings didn't stop. Oh no, they only got worse. And all you could do was blame Satoru.

You escaped moved out the first chance they got.

Okay, let's go back a little bit. What was Satoru's point of view? Well, at first he wanted his sisters love. He looked up to her, she was the strongest! He wanted to learn from her. But they didn't reciprocate. They shunned him, avoided him.

At a later age, maybe ~7 he didn't really care. The clan told him she was worthless, no longer the strongest. It worked. Temporarily

All is fine for you. You became just another sorcerer, living her life fighting curses and going to crappy bakeries, but you were content with that.

At that point in time, so around the time Satoru is in Jujutsu High, he doesn't remember ever having a sister. Everything goes just as it did before. He dies, revives, Geto defects, Shoko is left alone, he becomes a teacher.

And here, when he's a teacher, shit goes down. Because guess what? You landed a job in the Kyoto school. And really, you never expected your kin to become a teacher in the twin school.

So imagine your surprise when you see him at the goodwill event. It didn't take a second for you to recognise him, for your body to go rigid.

Unfortunately for you, he notices it. He's confused—who are you? He's never seen you before, so why are you so familiar? What a pain, he'll have to ask Utahime later.

He strikes a conversation with you, which you're less than thrilled about. You're even meaner that Utahime! How could that be? What did he do to you?

He asks Uta the first chance he gets (he almost got a beating!) and fuck is she appalled. How dare he not know about the previous strongest?! His sister no less!

He's stunned.

Sister?

How could that be? He didn't have a sister. And then he remembers, his little self vying for her attention.

For your attention.

You think you're safe. He didn't seem to recognise you, thank god. You already made it a point in your mind to quit the first chance you get. Run off and work in some random cafe or anything. Luck is not on your side, because Satoru won't let you go.

He goes for a conversation again, except this time it's going to be very different.

"Heeey sis'!" He grinned, leaning down to meet your eyes. He reaches up to uncover his own pair(s). "Long time no see, aye? My wittwe big strong sis'!" The way he said it was so condescending. And fuck, you punched him.

He faltered. You... punched him. You penetrated his infinity. That— oh. Fuck, he was hard. Something snapped this moment. You were meant to be.

But you didn't seem to share his sentiment. Well, no matter. No one is going to miss you anywag, and he was the strongest. (Don't worry, you're right behind him!)

So he... borrows you. Coddling you, cheering you up for not being the strongest! "Aww, it's okay baby! You're my strongest, my big, adorable sis'! You don't actually hate me, do you? You're just envious of your little brother! But it's okay! I love you!"

Good luck.

It's not the actual short fic, more so of a ramble about what's to come. I'm currently rotting in school, so that's an interesting place to write this in. No wonder I already failed one year with more on the way ><

Also I had another epiphany!

Mother-father-something (Yandere, but that's my default) Kenjaku with daughter reader who's their greatest creation! Their sweet little trophy. So much better than their failures of siblings (His words not mine!)

WAAAAAHHH FRIENDDDDD!! i already gushed a lil bit in DMs about this nyehehehehe...BUT!

HELLOOO piercing the infinity???!¡? OF COURSE satoru's masochistic ass would be into that safsadsadsadsa. oh god oh god oh god.

this has some potential for some heavy infantilization...like, he's coddling you after all the shit the others put you through! you look so stressed, big sis, let him help turn that frown upside down! :)

but also he'd be soooo needy. he needs your approval so bad, you see? :( he lost you once, you left him behind once, and he's not letting you do that again. never. you're gonna be together no matter what it takes.

you're his little pillow at night, you act like a partner more than a sibling. but at the same time you're the strongest, right? so you can handle a little bit of roughing up here and there! deffo doesn't get off to being punched by you when you try to escape...

(also i am always blessed by kenny ideas oomph finally, some good fucking food. being kenjaku's favorite is probably just as bad, if not worse, than being his most hated ayyy i love that brain so bad)

[idsb]

it’s done, so. /:

[salsflore]

[bi-panic-at-the-disco]

hahahahah hah

[mgsdelta]

being poor is literally so miserable

[likeumeanit9497]

the re-do | m.s. |

matt sturniolo x fem!reader

summary: y/n participates in the triplets' "dirty q&a" video, where she accidentally infers that her experience losing her virginity to matt back in high school had been mediocre. instead of taking offence, matt makes it his mission to show her just how much he has improved since then.

warnings: SMUT; established friendship; m/f oral; unprotected p in v; dirty talk; 18+

notes: hi guys! this is my first ever one shot so pls be gentle with me (i'm genuinely so terrified to post this). it has absolutely NOT been proof read forgive me, but i hope you all enjoy <333

“Guys why am I actually nervous to film this?” Nick proclaimed from his place in the backseat of the car beside me. “No I am genuinely so scared right now.” Replied Chris from the seat in front of me as he began passing out our respective orders from McDonalds.

“We can’t act nervous or else the fans are gonna go even crazier than they already will.” Added Nick as Matt adjusted the camera on the dash. “You’re sure you’re gonna be able to handle the inevitable shit talking that’s gonna come from all this?” Matt asked as he turned to face me in the back. I took a deep breath but nodded. “The more they see me the more desensitized they’ll be. They’ll have to eventually get over it.”

As one of the triplet’s closest girl friends, I had been on the receiving end of a fair amount of hate from their fangirls on the internet. Because I had known them since elementary school, I had been a part of many of their earlier videos when their fans had still been pretty chill about our friendship. But over the past year, a new wave of younger fans had found the videos and had made it their life mission to publicly bash me any chance that they could. It became too much when, a few months ago, one of them decided to spread a rumour that Chris and I had slept together based on nothing other than strategically edited clips of us smiling at each other. It was then that the guys and I had made the decision to keep me as out of the public eye as possible.

However, the guys had sat me down last week to explain how fed up they were with how restricted they felt they had been in their content. They wanted to make an attempt at reclaiming a fandom built primarily of viewers closer to our age, and they thought that the best way to try that was to ignore the petty complaints and make content that they wanted to make. So, since I had been staying with them in Los Angeles for the month, I had agreed to not only be in one of their regular videos, but I had agreed to be in their ‘dirty q&a’ video. I couldn’t lie, I was a bit nervous, but mostly I was excited that my friends were finally confident enough to make videos with more extreme topics.

“Alright guys, ya’ll ready?” Chris asked, intaking a sharp breath while his hand hovered over the record button on the camera. We all responded with a falsely enthusiastic “ready!”, and the camera was turned on.

“Alright, first question,” Nick began after his long-winded introduction filled with disclaimers and explanations for their change in content. “How many people have you slept with?” Already with the first question, it was obvious that the guys were tentative about answering. “Bro I don’t know, next question.” Chris responded, rubbing his eyes with the heel of his hands. “What do you mean by ‘I don’t know’ Chris?” Asked Matt tauntingly. “I mean I haven’t fucking kept track of everyone I’ve slept with.” He responded bluntly, before realizing how bad that had sounded. We all, however, erupted into laughter immediately. “Okay okay it’s not that bad guys I swear, I just have a bad memory is all.” He attempted to remedy his previous answer, but all three of us continued to laugh.

“Matt, how about you?” Asked Nick, to which Matt simply held up five fingers to the camera. “Same with me.” Nick agreed before turning to me. “Y/n? Spill it.” I rolled my eyes before answering truthfully. “Seven.” I shrugged, and I caught Matt’s smiley eyes through the rear view mirror.

“Alright next question is…” Chris was scrolling through the responses to their Instagram threads. “How old were you when you lost your virginity?”

“Sixteen” We all responded in unison, and immediately buckled over in laughter. “Not all at once though ya’ll.” Nick explained through his laughter, while mine and Matt’s eyes flew open and Chris’ laugh turned into hysterics. “Well…” Chris began before he was cut short by the three of us telling him to shut up. “I’m definitely gonna have to cut that one out. Sorry you two fools, I kind of set him up there.” Nick rolled his eyes as he looked between Matt and I.

Ironically enough, the fans had been half right in their rumour about Chris and I sleeping together. I had slept with one of the triplets before, but it wasn’t Chris.

When we were sixteen, Matt and I had decided that we wanted to lose our virginities to each other. It had been a no-strings-attached decision, and our friendship thankfully never wavered after it was done. Both Nick and Chris had already lost theirs that same year, and we had both just kind of wanted to get it over with. Obviously, this piece of information was known only by Matt and I, and of course Chris and Nick since they had barged into the room while we were in bed together. Even though the vindictive side of me would love to have the fans know this piece of information and shatter their dreams, I knew that the fallout would be an absolute nightmare.

“Okay let’s see…” I had been handed Nick’s phone to choose a question to answer and was scrolling through my options. “Here’s a simple one. Favourite position? Mine’s speed bump for sure.” I placed the phone down, satisfied with my confident answer, only to be met with multiple pairs of confused eyes. “I beg your pardon? The fuck is speed bump?” Asked Nick as he took his phone back. “The one where you’re kinda just lying flat on your stomach with the guy behind you. Trust me it’s chef’s kiss.” I responded simply. Chris’ facial expression turned from confusion to one of understanding. “Ohhh yeah that’s a good one.” He replied as he dapped me up. “Great, gonna have to edit that out too unless you want the rumours to get really bad again.” Nick said as he rolled his eyes. “Shit, sorry Nick.” Chris said, giggling slightly.

“Let’s just move on.” Matt said as he began scrolling on his own phone. “Best and worst sexual experiences.” He read off of his screen. There was a moment of silence while we all thought of our answers. “I had a girl throw up on my dick once. The problem is I don’t know if that makes it the worst or the best though.” Said Chris, earning a loud groan from each of us. “You’re sick.” Replied Matt, giving his brother a disgusted look.

“I mean I guess the worst sex would probably be my first time right? Like that makes sense right?” Asked Nick in an attempt to steer the conversation away from Chris’ confession, to which I nodded in agreed response without thinking. I caught Matt’s eyes in the rearview mirror again, this time seeing them filled with a pleading expression. Realizing what I had done, I silently prayed to the universe that my action would go unnoticed by the others. Unfortunately and unsurprisingly, my head nod didn’t make it past Chris, which was made incredibly clear when he mumbled to Nick behind his hand that was hiding his smiling mouth from the camera.

“Did you see that?” He asked, and Nick looked confused so he continued, “Y/n agreed with you about her first time.” He managed to get out before erupting into laughter at the expense of his brother. Matt threw his hands up in the air once Nick joined Chris in his giggling, and I winced from my place in the backseat; also mouthing an apology to Matt’s reflection in the mirror.

“Bro come on it was my first time! I guarantee you were trash your first time too.” Matt said in an attempt to repair his ego as he threw his empty cup at Chris. “Maybe so, but I don’t have the girl who I lost it to here in the car to confirm it.” Chris snarked back, playfully nudging Matt’s shoulder. “We all gotta start somewhere dude.” He added when Matt didn’t respond. As Nick continued choking on his own laughter, Matt crossed his arms and stared out the window, very clearly wishing he was anywhere but there in that moment.

“Okay okay,” Nick began catching his breath. “We need to cool it because 90% of that what we just filmed is completely unusable. Let’s please just try to make it through this video without exposing Matt and Y/n’s bumpy sexual history again.” He pleaded as he began scrolling through his phone to find new questions.

─ ⊹ ⊱ ☆ ⊰ ⊹ ─

“God, that was rough.” Said Chris as we all climbed out of the parked car. We had finally finished the video. It took us an hour to film, and would still be edited down to just twenty minutes of content where we weren’t exposing big secrets or directly fuelling past rumours.

“At least it’s done. It might be a while before I ever want to do that again.” Nick responded as he opened the garage door leading into their house. “Agreed.” Added Matt from behind me as we climbed the stairs to the main level. We all walked over to the fridge to grab drinks, as if the beverages would clean our dirty mouths.

“Alright,” Chris began after a hefty chug from his Pepsi, “I’m going to my room. Matt, Nick, get on Fortnite with me.” He began descending the stairs. “I’ll get on once I shower Chris. I have a desperate need to scrub this FILTH off of my body.” Replied Nick, and he began walking towards the stairs leading to his bedroom. “Y/n, come upstairs whenever you want to go to sleep and I’ll get off the game.” He called over his shoulder as he disappeared at the top of the stairs.

Matt and I were left alone in the kitchen, him sitting at the table and me sitting on top of the counter in between the stove and the fridge. Swinging my legs carelessly, I decided to break the silence first. “I’m really sorry about all of that in the car Matt. I didn’t mean it.” He looked up at me and chuckled. “Yes you did, and it’s not a big deal. I know I wasn’t great back then.” He responded before taking a drink from his can. I smiled softly at his response but decided to leave it be. There was no use in trying to deny it. The sex was just boring, short, and awkward; the way that most first times are. At least he didn’t take any offence to it.

“You know,” He began after a few moments of silence, his eyes shooting to mine as he stood up from his place at the kitchen table. “I’ve gotten much better.” A playful smirk travelled to his lips as he began walking towards my frozen figure on the counter. He stopped just a few short centimetres away from me, so close that I could reach out and touch any part of him that I wanted. I couldn’t tell if he was fucking with me, until I felt his early signs of arousal press lightly against my knee.

My throat was dry, and I felt like a deer in headlights. Even though Matt and I had slept together when we were younger, the dynamic was much different than now. The proposition came about awkwardly, and we were a fumbling mess with very little understanding of how it felt to be aroused. But in this moment, I was very very aroused just from this conversation.

In my silence, he placed a firm hand on my hip, rubbing his thumb across it gently. “I can do just about anything. Just let me know how you want it and I can give it to you.” My stomach did a somersault at his words, and I felt my panties dampen. He used his free hand to push my legs apart so that he could stand in between them, and my limp hands subconsciously moved up to grab onto his shoulders. At the first sign of my willingness, Matt quickly leaned forward and peppered soft, teasingly slow kisses along my neck. His lips travelled up to my ear, where he bit the lobe playfully before whispering, “Well, tell me. How do you want me Y/n?”

His words caused me to clench on nothing and I nearly moaned from the anticipation. With him still waiting on my response I whispered back, “You can do anything you want to me, Matty.”

Without missing a beat, he attacked my lips with his own and I melted from the immediate relief. I moved my hands from his shoulders up to the base of his head, and as his tongue danced along with mine I pulled gently at his messy hair; my own mouth filling with a moan falling from his lips. His right hand traveled up my grey hoodie to find that I had nothing on underneath, and he lightly brushed the bottom of my left tit with his thumb. Suddenly his hands moved from under my shirt and gripped my ass as he effortlessly lifted me off the counter and into his arms. I wrapped my legs around his waist and he stumbled towards his bedroom.

Once inside the undisturbed room, he placed me down on his desk, my ass hitting the mouse and causing the computer to turn on; casting a light on the otherwise dark room. He wasted no time in removing my hoodie, leaning me back slightly so he could easily twirl his tongue along each nipple. I hummed in pleasure from the warm, wet sensation of his mouth connecting to my skin, and brought my hand down in between our bodies to softly run my hand up and down his clothed hardness. After a few moments, he pushed my hand away and dropped to his knees in between my legs.

Pulling my grey sweats off my body and pushing my thong to the side in one quick motion, Matt took a moment to relish in my swollen, dripping hole. “I don’t remember you being this wet for me last time.” He smirked as he looked up at me with blown out pupils. “Let’s see if you taste the same.” My eyes rolled to the back of my head at his filthy words, and a moan slipped from between my lips as his mouth made sloppy contact with my sensitive bud. I subconsciously grabbed onto the back of his head, suffocating him with my heat as he continued to suck and kiss my clit. As his tongue worked on my nerves, he released a guttural moan that vibrated against my heat, causing my back to arch at the intense feeling.

When we had done this all of those years before, Matt’s movements were lacking in confidence. He had fumbled around my clit blindly, and had ate me out cautiously as if he was afraid of hurting me. Now, this Matt had clearly gained experience, as my stomach was already beginning to fill with the familiar pressure from the build up of an orgasm once I watched him find all of my most sensitive spots; his eyes blissfully closed.

Suddenly, he pulled his mouth away from my heat and I groaned at the loss of contact. He straightened his body back up to my level and brought his face so close to mine that our noses were touching. “Kiss me. I want you to know how good you taste.” He whispered through his glistening bright red lips. More on fire than I had ever been in my life, I immediately attached my open mouth to his, moaning at the distinct taste of my sweet arousal on his tongue. As we deepened the kiss, his fingers found my heat and he ran two of them up and down my folds to collect my wetness before slamming them into my cunt; finding my spongey g-spot on the first pump with his curled fingers.

My head rolled back, lost in the euphoric feeling of his fingers filling me up, and he watched my facial expressions intently as the wet sounds of my upcoming orgasm filled the space between us. “Holy fuck, Matt.” I slurred, my voice coming out choppy as his fingers continued to relentlessly pound into me; never losing contact with that one spot that drove me crazy. “I-I’m gonna-” I squeezed my eyes shut, feeling the very beginning of my orgasm roll over my body.

Suddenly, all of his movements stopped and my eyes shot open out of frustration. In the time since my eyes had screwed shut, his own had darkened in arousal. My body trembled from the sudden halt in its pleasure, and he smirked at me. “You want to cum, sweetheart?” He asked, his kind words a harsh paradox to his sinister expression. Still, I nodded eagerly to which he pulled his fingers out of me completely before leaning up and placing his wet mouth right against my ear.

“You’re gonna fucking wait for me.”

I attempted to squeeze my legs together to take some pressure off of my throbbing, unsatisfied core as his vulgar words scrambled my brain, before he pulled me off the desk and pushed my head down so that I was now the one on my knees. Confused, I looked up to find him gazing down at me. He gestured towards his clothed member. “Go ahead.” I grinned slyly.

My turn.

I had made an attempt at giving him head the first time we had sex. Just like him, I had struggled with confidence due to the sole fact that I had no clue what I was doing. Since then, I had had plenty of practice, and I was excited to now be the one to show him my improvements.

I grabbed onto the waist band of his pyjama pants and pulled them down to his knees. With only his tight red boxer shorts covering it now, the outline of his thick cock and the small wet spot at its tip from his pre-cum made my mouth water. I brought my mouth up to the skin on his lower stomach, right above the Calvin Klein logo on his boxers, and began peppering excruciatingly slow kisses along the light sprinkling of hair there. I glanced up at him through my eyelashes to find him peering down at me with curious lust, his mouth open slightly and his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths.

After a short while, I grabbed his boxers and pulled them down to meet his pants at his knees. His hardened cock smacked his stomach on its release from the tight material, where it left a wet patch from his pre-cum. Grabbing it with my left hand, I collected a pool of saliva in my mouth and stared up at him as I let it all drip down his swollen member. After pumping my hand for a few strokes, I placed only the tip in my mouth as I watched his eyes dilate. I swirled my tongue teasingly along the swollen tip, tasting the the saltiness of his fluid. Eventually, I began pumping my hand up and down his shaft in rhythm with my head bobbing along the top half of his cock. He shifted on his feet at the new sensation and let his head fall back. I kept my pace agonizingly lazy, knowing that it would drive him crazy.

With my tongue, I licked a strip from the base of his ball sack, up his shaft, and to his tip, earning a hushed whimper from his lethargic mouth before he grabbed my hair and shifted his hips. Looking down at me and holding my head firmly in place, he began thrusting his hips as he kept me still. He started slow, but when he realized that I could take more his pace began to pick up and his cock began to hit deep in my throat. I looked up at him through my tear-filled eyes, and saliva began to drip down my chin. “Fuck you look so good with my cock in your mouth.” He grunted out through each thrust. I lifted my hand to cup his balls, giving them gentle squeezes that seemed to send him towards his climax.

As a moan fell from his lips, he pulled my head back so that his dripping cock sprung free before he got the chance to fill my mouth with his cum. He stood there for a moment with his eyes closed taking deep breaths as if he was fighting the urge to finish right then, before he opened his eyes and gazed down at me. “Get on the bed.”

I pulled myself up off the ground and, on shaky legs, walked over to his bed with him following close behind. Once I reached the edge of the bed he stopped me, turning me around to face him and pushing me down so I would sit. “Put your feet on the bed and pull your knees up to your chest.” He commanded, and I did as I was told, albeit I was a bit confused. “Good girl.” He praised me as he pulled me right up to the edge of the bed before pushing my legs further apart.

Placing one of his knees on the bed beside me, he lined his cock up with my entrance; rubbing it tantalizingly along my wetness. Placing one arm around my waist to brace my body, he slowly pushed his cock inside of me right there on the edge of the bed. His trusts were slow but harsh, and the position he had placed us in made it so that my cervix was barrelled into each time his hips met mine. He placed his sweat-coated forehead against my collar bone and released small breathless grunts with each deep thrust. “So fucking good Matt. Oh god.” I whined as his pace began to increase in speed. He planted his teeth into my shoulder as we fell back onto the bed; his body now completely on top of mine as he continued to drive into me.

He lifted his head and looked fixedly at my fucked out face, his eyes glossed over in erotic pleasure. With this visual, I was brought back to the first time we had fucked, in a position so similar to this one. His rhythm was slower and much more tentative, and we were both certainly much less pleasing to the other, but still I suddenly got hit with a wave of recognition in how much we had both grown since then.

I was pulled out of my trance by Matt’s commanding voice. “Move back real quick and get on your stomach.” I did as I was told, feeling the emptiness that came from his dick sliding out of my soaking wet pussy. Assuming he wanted me in doggy, I got on my knees and arched my back; my head and shoulders pressed firmly against the soft mattress. I felt the bed move as he climbed on all the way, and in a moment of animalistic desperation I pushed my needy cunt subconsciously back to meet heat of his cock.

“No.” He stated simply, his veiny hands massaging my ass. Confused, I looked over my shoulder as I waited for him to explain. He had an ominous smile as he moved his gaze from my fully exposed cunt to my face. “I wanna see if your favourite position is really worth the hype.” He used his hands on my ass to push it down flat to the bed before adjusting himself so that he could line up correctly. Still looking over my shoulder with glazed eyes, I watched his expression as his cock sunk into my core once again. His jaw was clenched tightly and his eyelashes fluttered slightly from the new sensation that the position gave him as he bottomed out. “Oh fuck.” His eyes were fully shut now as he stayed still for a moment. Small beads of sweat traveled down his stomach as I took in the beauty of the man who was making me feel so so good.

Getting turned on even more just from Matt’s visual pleasure, my walls clenched subconsciously and I whined, “Please keep going Matty.” His eyes snapped open and landed on mine, before he leaned forward — one hand beside my head and the other planted firmly to the small of my back — and began pounding into me relentlessly.

The depth of this position allowed me to feel every inch of his cock, and it became impossible to keep the moans and strings of profanity from escaping my lips. This seemed to be the case for Matt too, as over the sounds of my own moans and the wet sounds of our bodies connecting, I could hear the gruff throaty moans of his own pleasure. “Fuck. You’re so fucking tight Y/n.” Even though I was aware that we were both making far too much noise that Chris and Nick would definitely hear, I couldn’t get myself to bring it to Matt’s attention, as the animalistic vocalization of his indulgence was bringing me closer and closer to my climax.

“I-I need to cum Matty.” I managed to vocalize as my nerves began to unravel. “Hold it. Want you to cum with me.” He responded, leaning even further forward so that his body was practically lying on top of mine. He took a free hand and wrapped it around my throat, lightly squeezing the sides as my pleasure became dangerously close to bubbling over.

“P-Please cum for me. I can’t hold it anymore.” I begged, digging my nails into his silk bedsheets and feeling my walls quiver each time he drove his cock into my cervix. His breathing became hitched in my ear and his movements became sloppier. Biting my ear, he asked, “Where do you want me to cum, Y/n?”

Without wasting time, I moaned my response. “Cum in me please. Want you to fill me with it.” At that, Matt slammed his twitching cock into me a few more times before finally telling me what I so desperately needed him to.

“Okay sweetheart. Go ahead and make a mess for me.” Even before his words fully left his dirty mouth, I gave into the overbearing pressure in my stomach and felt my intense orgasm over-take me. Practically screaming his name, my pussy convulsed uncontrollably. I felt the immediate relief and heard the gush as I squirted along his cock and down his legs. “Jesus.” He moaned out as his body suddenly stilled. As my legs shook, I could feel his cock twitching inside of me; painting my walls with his cum.

After we both came down from our highs, catching our breath and reconnecting with our minds, Matt slowly pulled his dick — freshly bathed in my own juices — out of my swollen core. With a satisfied sigh, he threw his body onto the bed beside mine. Both of us laid there for a moment, facing one another with glazed over expressions, before a shameless smile crept onto Matt’s face.

“Well you definitely didn’t squirt the last time we slept together.” He chuckled proudly, and I knew his ego had been inflated. I rolled my eyes. “Well, you didn’t whimper the last time we fucked either.” It was my turn to smile as he covered his face bashfully. We laid there in silence for a moment, both of us lethargic and fucked out.

“If that was anything like when ya’ll lost your virginities then I am extremely impressed.”

Matt and I both shot our heads up and looked around the room for the origin of that familiar voice. We were alone, but my eyes focused on the lit-up computer. On the screen, Matt’s Discord was open to the group with Nick and Chris. I turned to look at Matt, who had also clearly made the same discovery that I had, and whispered, “Did you for real leave the channel unmuted?” He tucked his lips together and shrugged apprehensively, before climbing off the bed and over to the computer.

“Chris, how much of that did you hear?” He asked into his headset. I heard a laugh through the mic. “Oh Matt, I heard it all. Good work. I’m a proud brother.” I covered my face in embarrassment as Matt rolled his eyes. “Fuck off. You’re a perv.” He mumbled to his brother, but I caught the small smile that tried to creep to his lips.

“I’m gonna need a fucking lobotomy to get over the trauma that I was just put through.” I heard Nick’s voice now through the mic and I couldn’t help but laugh. “Bro you could have just left the server, you act like I forced you to listen to the entire thing.” Matt argued with his older brother. “You think I stayed and listened to the ENTIRE thing? What are you crazy?” I was full out laughing now, despite the embarrassment. “I left as soon as I figured out what was happening, but I still heard waaaay too much.” Matt laughed now and muted his mic — perhaps a bit too late — then walked back to where I was on the bed, propped up on my forearms.

“Whoops.” He simply said as he pulled his boxers back up. I shook my head and smiled shyly. “We are literally never going to be able to live that down.” I replied as he draped his body along the bed beside me again. Rubbing his eyes awkwardly, he shrugged softly. “Well, at least they’re gonna have to stop teasing me about my skills.” I smacked his arm playfully and he responded by grabbing me swiftly and pulling me to his side.

“You were impressed, weren’t you?” He asked teasingly, as he held me close. I closed my eyes and sighed, “I was, Matt. Really, really, impressed.” He giggled into my neck at my truthful response and I swatted him once again.

“I’m glad we got our re-do. I’d been wanting that for a while.” He said after a moment. I looked at him with a smile and ruffled his hair. “Me too, honestly. I always knew you had some potential in you.” I teased.

“Well, if you don’t want to have to face Nick right now, you’re welcome to sleep in here tonight.” He offered and I sighed in relief. “That would be great, actually.” I said as I began to sit up. “Let’s get cleaned up first though.” He began as he got up and grabbed us both towels from his closet, “You’re not allowed to get under my sheets until you wash my children off your thighs.” My eyes shot open at his disgusting choice of words and I quickly covered myself with my towel. “Matthew Bernard you are sick!” I exclaimed as we both headed towards his bathroom. “Sure am. But so are you.”

He pulled me into a hug while we stood in the bathroom waiting for the shower to warm up. As he rubbed circles on my back with his hand, I sighed. “I think this is the secret to good friendship.” He chuckled before asking, “What is?” Playfully, I smacked his ass over his boxers. “Fucking the shit out of each other once in a while.” He laughed and pulled away from the hug before getting into the shower; leaving the glass door open so that I could follow him. “Shut your weird ass up and get in the shower with me, friend.”

[nereidprinc3ss]

light of the morning

in which spencer sneaks into bau!reader's hotel room and they share a little more than just the bed

18+ (smut) warnings/tags: softdom!spence x sub reader, munch!spence, unprotected piv sex (dont do that), creampie (hate that word btw) praise, mentions of having to be quiet because morgan is right next door LOL, fluffy, established co-workers/friends with benefits, soooo idiots in love a/n: here is the promised smut. i am literally kicking my feet and twirling my hair and giggling and blushing at my own writing. I'm gonna have a freak out. requests are open like my legs

It’s late when the knock finally comes. Late enough that you’re dozing on the bed above the covers. 

It takes you a moment to reorient yourself—you’re rubbing your heavy eyes when you finally get the door. 

"Hi."

"Hey," says Spencer, hands awkwardly shoved into his pajama pants pockets. It’s funny, really. He never gets any better at this. 

You step aside and he enters the room, looking around as you close and relock the door. 

"Did I wake you?"

"How could you tell?"

"You’re in pajamas. And you look tired. I mean—you don’t look bad. You never look bad, I just meant… you don’t look tired but you’re not—I didn’t mean to—"

"Relax," you yawn, putting him out of his misery. "I was joking. I know I look tired." You glance at the digital clock on the nightstand. "It’s late. We have to be up early tomorrow."

"Yeah, I got, uh, sidetracked. Sorry."

He was reading. If it was anyone else, you'd be offended--but a sinkhole could open up under Spencer's feet and he probably wouldn't notice if he was absorbed in a book.

You shrug, a knowing smile lifting the corner of your mouth. 

"It’s fine. But I don’t know if tonight is a good night. I really am exhausted."

His eyebrows dart up. 

"That’s fine. That’s totally fine. I’ll just, uh—"

When you don’t move from in front of the door, he pauses, unsure. You bite the inside of your cheek, studying his rangy frame and choice of clothing. Blue pajama pants, slippers, grey CalTech zip up hoodie. It feels wrong to describe a 6'1 man as adorable, but that’s how he looks in his sleep clothes. There’s a very real chance, you find yourself thinking, that you are the only member of the BAU to ever see him in something other than slacks and a button-down. He looks so cozy that you kind of really want him in your bed even if he’s not doing anything but sleeping. The invitation slips out before you can think too hard about it. 

"You could… stay, anyway, if you want?"

His mouth parts slightly, and those eyebrows raise again. There’s a moment of awkward silence and you are very much beginning to regret your offer, wondering if you somehow violated the sanctity of your co-workers/friends with benefits situtationship. Clumsily you try to backtrack. 

"Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, you can—"

"No, no! You didn’t, I just don’t want you to feel obligated to invite me to stay in your room. I’m right across the hall, I can go back if you want me to."

You smile awkwardly, silent relief replacing the brief anxiety. 

"It’s fine. It’s not like we haven’t shared a bed before." And not like you wouldn’t have ended up doing it tonight anyway, if things had gone as originally intended.

He chuckles, looking to the floor and nodding. The blush on his face does not go unnoticed by you. "Fair enough."

It’s incredibly endearing how nervous he still gets after six months of this little arrangement. 

"Do you wanna get your stuff, or…"

"No, that’s okay. I’ll just go back early tomorrow. The chances of someone seeing me leave your room are significantly higher if I do it so soon after entering."

You squint, unable to tell if he’s fucking with you or if that’s an actual statistically sound probability. And then you realize, blissfully, that you don’t really care. 

"Okay, well. Make yourself comfortable. I’m just going to brush my teeth."

Once you’re enclosed in the bathroom, hotel vanity lights blinding you as you brush, you find that there is a jittery sort of apprehension buzzing in your chest. But that’s silly. As you yourself pointed out, the two of you have shared a bed many times over the past few months. But the sleeping together is always a byproduct of the sleeping together. Never have you shared a bed in a completely decent, virtuous, strictly non-sexual manner. It’s always been a matter of convenience—less bother if he doesn’t have to worry about sneaking back into his room in the middle of the night when you’re both exhausted. Or maybe that’s just what you’ve been telling yourselves. 

You rinse your mouth out and exit the bathroom, flicking off the light and finding that Spencer has indeed made himself comfortable. The hotel room is dark and he’s already under the covers, fiddling with his phone. 

"What time should I set the alarm for?" He asks, looking over at you as you crawl into bed, drawing the covers over yourself. "I was thinking 6:23. That should give me enough time to—"

"Sounds perfect," you affirm, wiggling under the blanket as you get comfortable. He schedules the alarm and sets his phone on the bedside table, dousing the room in complete darkness. Your eyes stay open despite, waiting for them to adjust. A few moments of utter silence and stillness pass, and you can tell Spencer is completely stiff next to you. 

"Spencer."

“Yeah,” he answers immediately. Like he’s even more wired about this whole situation than you are. 

"You know you don’t have to avoid touching me at all costs, right? I’m not a leper."

He looses a nervous laugh. 

"I know. We’ve just never really done this."

You frown at the darkness.

"We’ve definitely slept in the same bed before."

"Yeah, but… this feels different."

That, you can’t argue with. Can friends with benefits share a bed just to be near each other? Does that blur some line? And why does it feel more intimate than the sex? 

Screw it. If there is one thing you don’t want your relationship with Spencer to be, it is uncomfortable. Uncertain, you can work with. But not uncomfortable. You reach for him, hand sliding under the duvet—and find his hand already waiting for yours. 

"I don’t think it’s that different," you lie, interlacing your fingers together slowly. 

"Prolonged physical non-sexual contact does have measurable health benefits…" the words are murmured, like the moment is fragile and he doesn’t want to shatter it. 

"Can’t argue with the facts," you breathe, trying to modulate the shakiness of your voice. But you have a feeling you’re doing about as good of a job at concealing your nerves as he is. He shifts.

"Can I…"

"Yeah."

Your heart is pounding as he slips one arm under your neck and the other around your waist, pulling you close. Instinctually you curl into him, slinging your top leg over him as you’ve done before, but always dismissed as post-sex brain chemicals making you feel all warm and fuzzy. A neurological reaction that is so solidly scientific, neither of you ever questioned it. But it feels bigger now. 

He exhales as you settle against each other—a sound of relief that mirrors your own. He’s so warm, so safe as he envelops you, physically and sensorially. In such close proximity, so clear-headed, you notice each layer of his scent. Toothpaste, lavender, vetiver, detergent. You sort of feel like a creep, but you can’t deny how comforting it is. Nor can you deny the pirouette your heart does when he begins minutely rubbing your back, like he’s not even thinking about it. 

"Goodnight," you whisper into his shirt. 

"Goodnight," he whispers back. 

You fall asleep pretty quickly after that. 

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

It’s unclear what wakes you up—maybe it’s the blue-grey dawn light filtering in through the filthy window (doubtful, it’s still mostly dark) or maybe it’s the blinking green digital clock on the nightstand. 5:02 AM. Your alarm will go off in an hour and 21 minutes.

Sometime in the night you shifted, turning over in your sleep, but Spencer is still holding you close. The arm slung so casually over your waist is slightly domineering, but you manage to rotate again and face him once more. Mere inches away from his face you can see every detail. His expression is so peaceful, it makes your heart ache. 

But you’re just friends. 

Perhaps he felt you moving, because his eyes flutter open and you watch as they flood with consciousness. He takes you in, takes in his arm over your waist. For a split second you’re nervous he’ll pull away. 

"What time is it?" His voice is scratchy with sleep. 

"Five."

"Why are you awake? We have over an hour til the alarm goes off."

"Sometimes waking up early is okay."

His eyes flicker between your own, and momentarily you’re paralyzed as you realize this is a limbo state for the two of you in which you’ve never operated. You don’t know what’s acceptable. You don’t know what to do. Being close to him feels so good, that the idea of separating hurts. But you don’t want to make him uncomfortable, or—

He leans forward and kisses you softly. In the blue light of dawn, rather than frenzied and hidden in the dark, a desperate tear of clothes and teeth and hands—it’s almost freeing. All the anxiety you were feeling just seconds ago begins to melt. 

Friends. 

"You looked anxious," is his whispered answer after he pulls away a moment later, like a kiss is the simplest remedy in the world. He brushes a lock of hair behind your ear. "We should go back to sleep."

"I don’t want to go back to sleep."

The corner of his mouth twitches as he studies you.  

"No? What do you want?"

Emboldened by your mutual indiscretion, it’s your turn to kiss him. You feel him smile against your lips, hand finding the back of your neck and raking up through your hair to pull you closer. 

The delirium of sleep seems to have softened you, filed down the rough edges of your boundaries and kicked away the lines in the sand. What’s a kiss or two when you’ve just woken up? A small, innocuous display of affection while you’re still barely conscious. Nobody could fault either of you for that. People don’t think clearly when they’ve just been asleep.

So what if your lips part against his, and his other hand finds its way under your shirt to stroke the bare skin of your waist and hips? So what if you hitch that leg over him again and press closer?

Spencer breaks the kiss, still ghosting over your lips. 

"I thought it wasn’t a good night?"

"It’s not night time anymore, is it, genius?"

You sneak another kiss, nipping his bottom lip gently as you pull away. 

Instead of whatever array of responses you were expecting, Spencer smiles slightly, eyes almost sparkling in the faint light. The hand on your hip moves to your face, gently thumbing across your cheek. He begins to say something, and stops himself—biting his lip to hold back the words. 

"What?" you ask, heart dropping. Illusion fracturing. 

"I was just—" he begins, pausing for a moment before the words all come out in a rush. "I was just going to tell you how beautiful you are, but I don’t know if that’s something I should say, or if it would feel too… I don’t know…"

He trails off. A rare instance in which he doesn’t have the words. 

You do. Intimate. Real. Romantic. And he’s right, it does feel too much like all of those things. But that doesn’t mean you don’t like it, perhaps more than is strictly good for you. 

"It’s fine. Thank you."

He continues chewing on his lip for a moment. 

"Did I just ruin the mood?"

"No," you laugh, "not at all."

"Thank god," he sighs, surging forward again. 

"Since when do you thank god?" You manage between kisses. 

He moves to press his lips to your jaw and down your neck. 

"Do you want me to talk about the historical and cultural transition of religious expressions into ubiquitous secular colloquialisms right now?"

"Kind of," you breathe.

"No you don’t," he murmurs against your neck as his hands find the hem of your shirt. "You want me to take your clothes off."

Well, he’s not wrong there. 

You help him tug the shirt over your head before leaning back into the pillows as he situates himself over you and lavishes more kisses down your neck and collarbones, pausing to suck a mark only when he knows it’s low enough to be covered by your clothing later. 

You gasp when his lips brush over your nipple, before running his tongue over the sensitive skin. He glances up at you, and though his mouth is occupied, you can see the humor in his eyes. He loves how sensitive you are—how easy it is to get a reaction out of you. 

Of course, you continue to prove him right when he takes the other into his mouth, trying to hold back your little whimpers as he darts his tongue over the peak. Maybe somebody else wouldn’t hear them, but Spencer does. He’s hyper attuned to the sounds you make. Something of a catalogue has begun to form in the back of his mind; he knows exactly what each noise means and how to get them out of you. 

Once satisfied, he moves to press a kiss to your sternum. 

"You’re gonna be quiet for me, right?" Another kiss above your bellybutton. "Because Morgan is sleeping right on the other side of that wall, and we don’t want to wake him up."

"I’ll be quiet," you promise, somewhat breathlessly. Spencer’s mouth trails lower until he’s pulling your shorts down your legs, leaving you completely naked. He tosses them somewhere on the floor and hooks your legs over his shoulders. 

"Good." He plants one last kiss to your thigh and the next one lands right between your legs. 

You regret the need to be silent almost as soon as he drags his tongue over your clit. It’s not like the two of you have ever had the privilege of making a lot of noise, as the hotel rooms are always so close to each other, but it doesn’t make it any easier. 

Instead you opt to rake your hands through his hair and try to take deep breaths. But he knows exactly what you like—he knows starting light and slow, teasing around your most sensitive spot will work you up to the brink of insanity, just like he knows gentle circles make your back arch and elicit the prettiest little moans. 

"More," you beg, and the hands wrapped around your thighs rub soothingly, reassuring you that if you can just be patient you’ll get what you want. 

He takes your aching clit into his mouth, sucking lightly and you’re forced to clap a hand over your mouth, muffling the sob of pleasure you can’t hold back. Spencer keeps it up until you’re practically riding his face, teasing your dripping entrance with the tip of his tongue when you get too close. 

"Fuck, please, Spence," you whisper through your fingers, hips rutting in your desperation. Somehow it always ends up like this—with him in charge and you begging. Not that you have a problem with it, of course. 

He hums into you, and if the way his tongue moves back to circling your clit with newfound fervor is any indication, is apparently satisfied with your entreaty. 

You gasp and try to control your breathy moans, but his mouth feels so good on you that your vision is going out and you’re losing touch with reality ever so slightly. You use the last of your brain power to bite down on the back of your wrist, hoping it adequately muffles the noises you make as you come on Spencer’s tongue and he greedily continues lapping at you. There’s really no way of knowing—your ears are ringing anyway. 

When you come to a moment later he’s peppering kisses on your thighs, rubbing your hips gently. 

"So pretty," he murmurs, climbing back up so your lips can meet again. "Everything about you is pretty."

You paw at his shirt, signaling that you want it off as you moan at the taste of yourself on his tongue, feel your slippery arousal staining the kiss. Spencer helps you, sitting up briefly to unzip his hoodie and pull off his shirt. 

You’re the one to drag him back down, and you notice that he pulls the covers back over the both of you in a sweet gesture he probably didn’t even think about. 

"Need you to fuck me," you beg, reaching down to try and undress him further. 

"So crude. What happened to my nice, sweet girl?" He mumbles against your neck, but helps you with his pants anyway. 

"You must have me confused with someone else."

"Doubtful."

You don’t have much time to consider what that could mean before he’s running the head of his cock over your clit and you’re gasping into his mouth, saying please like it’s the only word you know. 

"There she is," Spencer croons, slipping inside you slow enough for you to feel every inch but quick enough for it to expel all the air from your lungs. Once he’s opened you all the way up, impossibly deep and close, you’re seeing stars, barely breathing. His head has dropped to your shoulder but now he drags his lips up your neck and jaw. "We okay?"

It’s been a while, you realize, since that last case in Maine. He always takes some getting used to. Hardly able to think around the pressure of his cock you nod, trying to string together a few words. 

"Fuck, I need a second." The words come out choked, but you manage. Spencer rubs your hip, his lips brushing yours as he speaks. 

"Relax, sweetheart. I don’t want to hurt you."

He curses to himself, dropping his head momentarily. You’re so fucking soft, and warm, and perfect, he can’t think straight. But he has to try because he has to take care of you. 

"Spence," you gasp, failing to verbally communicate the intensity of the physical sensation. 

"I know, baby," comes his sympathetic coo. "You know you can take me. Deep breaths."

"Mhm," you squeak, trying to take follow his directions and soften your muscles. Spencer keeps rubbing soothingly over your hips, stomach, whatever he can get his hands on, really, pressing kisses all over your face and telling you how good you are, how perfect you feel for him. After a few moments he feels you fluttering around him and experimentally pulls out halfway, before pushing back in equally as slowly. Your jaw drops as he begins to leisurely fuck you, arms wrapping around his back. He gets deeper than you expect every time, rubbing you raw and stretching you out in the most delicious way. 

"Perfect, baby. Such a good listener, did exactly what I asked."

You cry out when he begins fucking you impossibly deeper, but still so slow and sweet.

"You feel so fucking good for me," he groans. "This is what you were made for, huh?" You agree enthusiastically, eyes fluttering shut. 

"Only for you."

Just three words—but he wasn’t expecting to like hearing you say that as much as he does. A strong desire to possess you overtakes him—one that he’ll probably have the decency to feel guilty about later, but for now feels fucking fantastic and intoxicating. 

"Only me?"

You moan an affirmation. 

"Good. I don’t want anyone else fucking you, do you understand me?"

"Yes!"

"I’m the only one who gets to touch you," he breathes, speeding up ever so slightly, "nobody else is going to feel you like this. Such a good girl, spreading her legs for me at five in the fucking morning. You’re not doing this for anybody else, baby."

"Uh-uh, please, pleasepleaseplease Spence—"

He knows what you need, reaching a hand down between your bodies to rub your clit. 

You gasp an airy, high pitched curse, hips twitching but unable to escape the near-punishing rhythm of his own. It’s obvious that your orgasm is close, but you can’t even warn him, too overwhelmed with pleasure. He kisses you, swallowing your moans that have probably become just a bit too loud given the whole hotel thing. 

No words are exchanged between the two of you as you near the finish line for a change, open mouths slipping against each others in what is too messy to be called a kiss. Your orgasm body-slams you, a choked silent scream as you tighten around Spencer and he seems to come at nearly the exact same moment—deep inside you, slowly rolling his hips in a few more strong thrusts as he finishes. 

You let out a delayed moan at the sensation of being filled up, still pulsing around him as he comes to a halt, buried inside of you. He drops his head to your neck, and you can feel each breath against your flushed skin. Other than the panting, you’re both silent for a while. Spencer seems to gather himself sooner than you do, finally breaking the quiet. 

"You okay?"

All you can manage is a little squeak, at which he looses a breathy chuckle. His hand slides to your hip, gently stroking the skin with a thumb. 

"Need your words, angel girl."

"I’m okay," you coo into his shoulder, but he has to strain to hear it above his own breathing. 

"Yeah? Why so quiet?"

But it seems that at least for the moment, he’s gotten all the words he can out of you. When he tries to move, you whimper indignantly, clutching onto him tighter. 

"I really did a number on you this time, huh?" He laughs when you nod into him. "Are you falling asleep?"

"Mhm," you hum dreamily, little puffs of warm air slowing against his neck. 

"You can have…" he cranes his head to check the digital clock, "48 minutes."

"An hour."

He settles his weight on you once more, pressing a chaste kiss to your throat. His voice is low and gentle as he admonishes you. 

"I said 48 minutes."

But it doesn’t matter—you’re already asleep, or close enough to it. Spencer takes the opportunity to shift you to your side, and the way you wrap around him like a vine even unconsciously makes his heart ache. He really should go now—the earlier he gets out of your room the less likely certain complications will arise—but how can he possibly leave you like this? A vulnerable, dreamy girl with tangled hair haloing around her on the pillow case, clinging to him with blind trust that he’ll watch over her as she sleeps? No—there’s no way he’s leaving yet. Instead, he brings you closer. 48 perfect minutes will go by far too quickly, he’s sure.