#but it didn't even need to go and do all that because i would have redrawn it regardless

[abbotsanatomy]

heyyyyyyyyyyyyy are requests open by any chance 🥹 if yes i would love love love a chef!reader x jack and it’s a regular occurrence for her to visit and drop off food BUT but one day she comes in and she’s like i may have sliced something……. THANK YOU you’re my fave blog rn this jack hyperfixation needs to leave my body or else i’ll go crazy💋

⨳ TODAY'S SPECIAL

pairing: jack abbot x chef!reader warnings: depiction of injury and surgical procedure, intentional medical inaccuracies (for the plot :p). not beta'd! author's note: such a fun idea! so honored to be feeding the jack abbot craze

On today's dinner menu was supposed to be roasted rack of lamb, smothered in a rosemary-infused butter, with garlicky oven-baked potatoes. Key word: supposed.

Your carefully curated ritual of making dinner for Jack and bringing it to his work was interrupted by you accidentally slicing your thumb half off. It's what you get for not sharpening your knives when they needed to be sharpened, last week.

Now, you're on the way to the ER for an entirely different reason. You've got your good hand on the steering wheel, the other resting on your leg, with a towel that smells faintly of garlic wrapped around your injury. It only hurts a little, for now. You're sure that'll change when the adrenaline of it all wears off. Or at least that's what you've heard.

You're hoping you can get there and be administered some kind of pain-killer before that pain sets in. Morbidly, the rest of your thumb's in a plastic baggie, that's in another plastic baggie filled with ice, because that's what google told you to do. And in the absence of your doctor boyfriend, you listen to google.

Obviously, you use the back emergency entrance, like Jack's instructed you to do, if you ever happened to find yourself in need of actual medical assistance. You'd fought him on the principle, claiming the whole thing stinks of favoritism and some kind of medical malpractice. Now, with the pain slowly tingling up your entire arm, you can't find it in yourself to care.

The glass doors of the ER open automatically, as you walk in with a chunk of your left thumb in your right hand. You're escorted by one of the EMTs who was standing outside when you drove by. You'd seen her around a handful of times.

“Yeah, so I was making dinner for myself and my boyfriend. You know him,” you pause, as she takes the plastic bag from your hand and nods.

“It just sliced in half. It's partially my fault. I forgot to sharpen my cooking knives,” you go on, as she finds you a place to sit and calls a nurse to grab Jack.

She smiled empathetically at you, “Don't worry. We'll get you taken care of. Dr.Abbot should be here any minute. Just keep your hand elevated for me.”

Although you're about 99 percent sure the nurse walking in behind Jack already told him exactly what's going on, he still looks incredibly shocked to see you sitting there.

“Heeey,” you say, trying to wave the injured hand instinctively.

You quickly realize how bad of an idea that was, though, “Oh, ow. Ow.”

He gives you a once-over, and then quickly instructs the nurse to grab something. Presumably, hopefully, some pain meds. You realize you assumed correct, when she comes back with a few pills and a cup of water.

“Thank you,” you whisper, and swallow the pills in one go with the water.

Jack's just standing there, watching you. When you put the paper cup down onto the side table, he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. It's almost like he's putting off looking at your wound, even though he probably knows it's inevitable.

“I had such a great dinner planned. You have no idea,” you boast.

It makes Jack crack a smile, as he walks over to wash his hands. He takes a seat in front of you, and then looks at the rag on your finger expectantly.

“Come on. Let's take a look,” he begins, pulling the towel off, “I heard you kept the rest of it in ice. Good thinking.”

You nod, smiling to yourself at the praise, “Mhm, I know right? Didn't even panic or anything.”

“Oh, I believe you,” he affirms, still inspecting the injury.

In that moment, John Shen pops his head into the room.

“Woah, hey. What's Gordon here in for?” he asks Jack.

The nickname makes you roll your eyes. You really don't even like Gordon Ramsay.

“Sliced my thumb. Unfortunately,” you sigh.

You can't help but ask the one question on your mind right now, “Think you can reattach it?”

“That's what I'm trying to find out, sweetheart.”

You all wait with bated breath. Chopping things up could become infinitely more difficult with half a thumb.

“Yup. Found a vein for anastomoses. We can proceed with replantation,” Jack announces.

“Perfect,” Shen adds, and then leaves the room.

You let out a long sigh, “Oh thank god! I've never been more nervous in my life, I think.”

Jack leans in to kiss the side of your face, “Yeah, I could tell. You have absolutely no confidence in me.”

“No! That's not it. Not at all. You try almost losing your thumb!” you defend.

He grins at you with a tilt of his head. Then he looks down at his prosthetic, and back up at you. His expressions reads, ‘Really?’

You grimace, “Yeah, alright. You win this one.”

Jack makes quick work out of gathering everything he needs and disinfecting your wound. He starts the reattachment process, after giving you a numbing shot that makes you feel nothing from your shoulder downward.

You don't really understand what's going on, but Jack tries to explain as he's going. Frankly, you're too busy intently watching his hands work and admiring how incredibly sexy the surgical loupes he's wearing make him look. It should be criminal for him to look that good, while reattaching your thumb.

“This, right here, might be the hottest you've ever been,” you blurt out.

It makes him pause for a moment. Not in shock, just contemplation.

“Wow. Really?” he questions, the soft curve of his brows furrowed in disbelief.

You can't help but giggle at his tone. Maybe it's the antibiotics making you a little loopy, but how he's looking at you is also incredibly funny.

“I mean, yeah,” you reason, “Sure, sex with you is great, but this might be better.”

Jack just smiles and gets back to work. Mostly because he knows it isn't true; nothing tops the sex you have together. That shit's spiritual. But also, because he doesn't fully get it. He's never understood the appeal that apparently comes with being in scrubs.

Although he's deciding to back down, you need a clean-cut victory. You want him to actually understand.

“Hey, it's totally like when you spend an hour staring at my ass while I make dinner. It's mostly just that, but it's also you appreciating my cooking and how well I do my job,” you explain. “It's attractive!”

“Yeah. Sure, I can see it,” he concedes. It's a win you'll take.

There's a long pause. Just the sounds of the surgical tools in his hands filling the space between you. He's busy taking care of your finger, obviously, but you can also tell he's pondering what you just said.

“You like taking care of people,” is all Jack comes up with. You're more than able to fill in the rest, though.

“It's what I love about you.”

He doesn't need to say it. The words are buried in his tone, in the reverence in his eyes, in the gentleness of his touch on your arm, even though he knows you can't even feel it right now.

So, you nod, and come up with one of your own, “And you are immune to panic. If I hadn't known any better, I'd say you haven't experienced a day of dread in your life.”

That earns you another smile. It takes him five minutes to come up with another thing to say.

The procedure takes much longer than you'd previously expected. Neither you nor Jack were too bothered by that. Anyone passing by with snacks or words of encouragement definitely found how you and Jack went back and forth, subtly trying to one-up each other with your compliments, incredibly cheesy.

The hours you spent in the ER recliner, with Jack hunched over your hand, meticulously gluing you back together, were a love letter to your long-lasting relationship. One you'll cherish for as long as you still have the tip of your left thumb attached to your hand.

[reiderwriter]

Rumours

A/N: I'm back! I started this one literally in February and then got so distracted by my job I couldn't finish it. Employment is a curse.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Plot: Spencer is displeased about some rumours he hears about you around the office. Only the way he goes about confronting them is clumsy and downright maddening.

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, misogyny, misunderstanding, Spencer is a dick for a while, violence (breaking glass etc.), penetrative sex, oral (F receiving), slapping, choking, anal fingering, general BDSM content, Dom!Spencer, sub!reader, breeding kink (tee hee), cock warming, almost exhibitionism?

Masterlist

It wasn't as if you'd made it your life's mission to be the most rumoured about person on your team at the FBI, but you weren't exactly doing anything to correct people's perception of you. Spencer may have been to jail, Emily may have faked her own death, and Luke's past was a big, fat question mark, but nothing caught the attention of the pencil pushers in the office than the string of broken hearts you'd ostensibly left behind you at Quantico.

At one point in time, you'd even promised yourself you wouldn't date anymore law enforcement officers, lawyers, detention officers or anyone even remotely adjacent, but life was short, and you had a decent appetite for a men with guns and badges. It was very convenient to say the least.

Convenient for everyone apart from Spencer Reid.

The FBI was a boys club, sure, but with all the women on your team, the most ridicule you got after a drunken escapade with a distant coworker was a few teasing remarks. The first few months on the team, you'd been able to date, fuck, and play freely without any judgement. And then Spencer Reid had come back from leave, and you suddenly began to doubt your bachelorette lifestyle.

Because fuck was he frustratingly territorial.

It wasn't as though he was interested in you. He was 13 years your senior, fresh from an FBI mandated leave of absence and false imprisonment, and absolutely used to being coddled by every member of the team. If the BAU was a family, he was absolutely the youngest child who'd returned home to find his parents had adopted a dog while he'd been gone to replace him with.

You were the dog.

Spencer took issue with your attitude, your work ethic, your professionally, and with the sheer amount of times he'd been approached by men asking for your number, home address, or if the rumors were true.

He was used to casual oversharing, of course, he'd worked with Penelope long enough to not be phased by much sexual talk. But everytime he stepped into the office - or specifically the offices male bathrooms - he'd end up stuck in the same conversational loop.

“I heard she can do this thing with her tongue…”

“... definitely likes it rough…”

“I could show her a good time…”

“....I'm definitely hitting that by the end of the year…”

He stewed in it for a few weeks before the cracks fully formed in his exterior professionalism. When he heard about how you'd definitely fucked every male member of your team, though, that's when he lost it.

“You need to be more careful,” he said one day, pulling you aside between cases in a rare private conversation.

“Oh, yeah, in the field I can definitely rush in-”

“No. You need to be more careful with men.”

The look on his face sent a flare of shame through your chest, as you found yourself suddenly out of your depth. You didn't know this man well enough for him to be giving you advice. Your body set to full alert, and your fight or flight was in full go, as he cornered you and continued.

“They talk about you in the bathrooms, and I would not like to repeat what they say, but-”

“I don't care what they say.”

“You should.”

You frowned again, as he continued, completely oblivious to your growing anger.

“You should, because now it's reflecting badly on the team, and-”

“The team? I'm sorry what had the team got to do with this?”

To his credit, Spencer at least managed to look uncomfortable after that. He was set on reprimanding you, fine, but you'd make sure he wouldn't try to get so personal again.

“They're saying that you've slept with a number of coworkers-”

“Why should I care if-”

“Including me.”

You managed a half laugh in his face as his frown deepened.

“Oh so this isn't about my reputation, it's about yours. I should be safer with men because I'm reflecting poorly on our golden boy?”

“That's not what I'm-”

“Don't worry, Spencer. I'm safe enough.”

You made sure to push past him as you walked away, and he'd not been quiet about his dislike of you ever since.

Every man on a case you interacted with got you a disapproving glare, a slight turned down lip, a questioning glance. It was like you were being watched constantly, and it felt horrendous.

It was almost worse when the knowing looks he sent you were spot on in their assumptions. If you spoke to a man you had been with, hooked up with, been on a date with, even simply flirted with for a while, you felt his eyes pricking you.

His gaze knew everything it needed to know, almost as if he'd been in the room watching you submit your body for pleasure.

You thought it would be better on cases, that he'd be focused on other things and not worry as much, but when your first case post-argument landed, it landed you uncomfortably close to your childhood home, and included a face from your past you'd hoped not to see again.

Having an ex boyfriend in the police department in the middle of nowhere Washington was helpful for the case, but on a personal level it sucked.

You managed five minutes of personal conversation before you felt his eyes on you.

“Beautiful, you're not paying attention to me anymore. And here I thought fate had sent you back into my life as a little gift for a job well done,” your ex had said, ducking in close to you at your makeshift desk but locking eyes with an approaching Spencer as he spoke.

“Y/N, can I have a word?” he asked, though his jaw was set, and his tone insistent.

“Professionally or privately?”

“Y/N,” he warned, his tone a bit lower as you rolled your eyes and stood, following him to a quiet interrogation room quickly.

“What's wrong with you this time?” you demand as soon as he has the door closed. “Panties in a twist?”

“We are on a case, Y/N. Please at least pretend to be a professional.”

“What? What am I doing that is so wrong?”

He fisted a hand in his hair quickly, closing his eyes as if it would drown out your arrogant tone.

“You can't be serious, Y/N, he was practically fucking you with his eyes in the middle of the precinct-”

“And that's a behaviour he needs to change, not me. What. Did. I. Do. Wrong?”

“What? What, you expect me to sit around here and wait for him to ask you if you can still do that thing with your tongue that makes him cum instantly? Want me to wait around for him to ask you if you're still as flexible as you were give years ago, while we have work to do?” He demanded, stepping so close you had to back up against the wall to avoid colliding with his incoming body.

“I bet you'd love to hear just about everything I can do Spencer, but if you're going to act like a jealous ass, maybe you should take a breather.”

“Jealous? You think I'm jealous?” he chuckled slightly, raising a hand slowly and pushing against the wall as he stepped, somehow, closet to you again.

“You're so obsessed with my personal life that-”

“Your personal life is not so personal when I have people asking me if I've also fucked you on a weekly basis-”

“You're being cruel. My sex life is none of your business, Spencer.”

“That's exactly what I'm trying to tell you. I'm glad we finally agree.”

He was so close you could practically taste his breath, and while your mind raged at his thoughtless words, your body wanted his to press his against it and say all of that one more time with his hand wrapped around your throat this time.

“Jackass,” you said, pushing against his chest and storming out of the room quickly, before you could make any other mistakes.

Part of you wanted to stick it to Spencer after that. Part of you wanted to do something to start an even bigger rumor, something to piss him off more, something that would get him angry and bring him closer to you somehow.

Another part aggravatingly agreed with him. Your behaviour, while nowhere near as promiscuous as half of the male staff, was judged twice as hard as anyone else's. You enjoyed sex, and you wanted to unashamedly keep enjoying sex, but every man you ran into recently had that look about them. Half judgement, half possession, like they were looking at goods to consume rather than a coworker. You weren't obtuse, but you'd allowed yourself to ignore it until Spencer made you face it, which only made you resent him more.

You stopped going on dates, stopped entertaining the men in the office when they flirted with you. You put your head down, and you worked, and it frustrated you to no end.

You ended up snappy in the office, short with every single coworker and not just Reid, who was also (inexplicably) short with you. You'd done what he'd asked, and he was still not satisfied.

Emily, sensing the tension, tried to ease the situation slightly, with a mandatory team dinner, volunteering Rossi for dinner duty.

“Welcome to Casa Del Rossi, keep your hands off the pasta until I serve it, and please do not ask about the wine unless you want to be talking about it all night.”

You felt slightly uncomfortable being forced to play happy families under the watchful eye of 5 profilers and an incredibly perceptive tech support girl, but you tried to be civil over dinner.

Until you couldn't be.

“So, Y/N, any dates recently?” Emily laughed over a sip of wine, genuinely curious about your sudden lack of suitors.

“No,” you said, locking eyes with Spencer, who rolled his eyes as he looked away.

“What, not even a single hinge match?” JJ added, and you suddenly regretted not telling any of your other coworkers the root of your tension with Reid, because they were happily digging your grave.

“Come on, we all love your stories, Y/N,” Penelope laughed, prodding you with a finger as you smiled feebly.

“No, not all of us do,” Spencer mumbled under his breath, still loud enough that the room fell silent.

“Relax, Doctor Reid, I'm not going to regale you with tales of my conquests.”

“Good, I get enough of that in the male bathrooms,” he said, standing up from the table and excusing himself.

You stared slack jawed at him as he walked away, simmering anger getting ready to explode. You stood as well, and followed him, aware of every set of eyes watching you intently as you searched for Spencer.

You found him in a spare room, following him in and closing the door behind you with a thud so he would know you were there.

“What the fuck is your problem, Spencer?”

“Oh, it was Doctor Reid earlier, but now we're friends, huh?” he said, not bothering to look at you as he picked up a book and sat in a chair at the edge of the room.

“You can't just disrespect me in front of the team like that, and… and what? Slink away to read?”

He looked up at you with an annoyed glance, and you almost lunged at him. You'd probably be able to gouge out an eye before he could react if you wanted.

“You know, when we first talked about this, I was seriously worried for you. The way those men talk about you-”

“How do they talk about me? What do they say about me specifically that's any worse than usual misogynistic bathroom talk, huh?”

You stepped closer, leaning over him and poking his chest. You wanted him to react, wanted him to get angry. You wanted a fight, not for him to walk away shaking his head in resignment.

“You really want to know?”

“Yes. I'm a big girl, tell me what's so bad that has you acting like such a spoiled brat.”

“Okay. Okay, fine.” Putting down the book, he looked up at you, locking eyes with you as he started.

“They talk about how well you take it. How much you love cock, and how if they got the chance they'd fill you up with so much cum you'd be leaking for days. Some of them even talk about using you as a human toilet.”

“They mostly talk about your body, about how flexible you are, about how flexible they'd force you to be, how-” he had to stop to look away, clear his throat and start again.

“Mostly they talk about your lips,” he said, finally risking a look down at them before dragging his eyes back up to your own.

“My lips?” you asked, mentally scolding yourself when you hear the breathy whisper you let out.

“They talk about your lips a lot. I'm sure you can imagine.”

You take a second to think about it, reeling at how close he was, how open he was being, how….

How turned on you were hearing these words fall from his mouth. Every sentence from his mouth felt like a confession.

“I don't believe them though,” he said finally.

“What?”

“I don't believe them. I don't believe you're as good as they say you are, as they're fantasising about you being.

Your mouth opened in shock, and the indignity of the accusation had your heart beating out of your chest.

“Say that again,” you demanded, forcing him to meet your eyes again.

“You're not that good, Y/N. I'm sure of it.”

Quickly, you snaked your arm up and around his neck, grabbing him and pulling him down to meet your lips. You'd hoped to take him by surprise, to enter his mouth as he lost himself in the feel of you pressed against him. You'd hoped for the upper hand, until you realized you'd played right into his.

He kissed back immediately, hotly, insistently. His hands roamed your body for any hold of you they could find, settling on your waist and your ass as he pushed you back into the wall you stood in front of.

Frustrated by his attitude, you pushed back, twisting your bodies around until you'd switched positions, nails digging into the tender skin at his collarbone. You wanted to grab him hard enough to draw blood, you wanted to permanently scar him to remind him how good this felt.

He growled into the kiss, and you momentarily lost focus. He swung you around again, hands pushing your shirt up and roughly grabbing your boobs as he bit down on your lower lip.

With a moan, you hiked a leg up around his hips, rolling into him as he pinned you to the wall.

Your final act of defiance was pushing him away with all your strength.

Taken aback, he stumbled once or twice before hitting a dresser behind him. It shook, and with the tremors, the lamp that had been sat on it fell to the floor with a crash.

You stared at him panting as your coworkers ran to you both, opening the door with a loud bang as they assessed the situation.

You kept your eyes on him as Emily scolded you both, putting the two of you on BAU time out.

You quickly left the party after that, apologising to Rossi and tucking your tail firmly between your legs as you retreated.

Desk duty for the next two weeks was exactly the punishment you were expecting from Emily. Honestly it was what you deserved. If you couldn't play nice together, you weren't allowed to play at all.

You sat at your desk, and Spencer sat at his, and you were happy and content to ignore him for as long as physically possible.

Unfortunately, your sudden voluntary celibacy must have been driving you insane, because you couldn't stop picturing his hands on your waist, his hot lips tracing down your neck, your hips pushed so close you could practically feel his cock begging to be inside you.

Imagining.

You were sure your staring was making the man uncomfortable, or at the very least frustrated. You saw the vein in his neck jump out when he noticed you looking at him, but it didn't help too much to dispel the sudden and aggravating attraction you felt towards him.

You wanted to be angrier. Every interaction you entered needing to be angry.

Instead you found yourself somewhat softening based purely on lust, and it was eating you up.

You were not a pushover, and contrary to popular office belief, neither were you desperate or easy. One kiss with a coworker shouldn't have you trailing after him like a forlorn love struck child.

Spencer was definitely avoiding you though.

At first, he justified it to himself as giving you space, an apology of sorts after you'd been so brash before.

Then he came clean to his own conscious and realized he was afraid of another confrontation. Afraid was perhaps the wrong word, eagerly anticipating might be better, though when he tried to explain it to Penelope it didn't come out right at all.

“It's like- Okay, so we're like water and potassium, right?”

“You've lost me lover boy, I do computers not sciency science.”

“Potassium and water are both stable enough on their own. They do their job well, they work nicely.”

“Potassium is in potatoes, ergo they are in French fries. They work superbly.”

“Yes, but when you put potassium in water it has a tendency to catch on fire and explode.”

Penelope still looked at him confused, unsure what kind of avoidance excuse he was crafting in his mind.

“I'm potassium. She's water,” he said again to no avail.

“I need to avoid her so I don't explode.”

“What makes you think you're going to explode? Just talk to her nicely. Avoid topics you think are going to be more… reactive?”

Spencer just solemnly nodded and went back to avoidance.

He realized quickly that the only thing he'd ever talked to you about outside of working hours was your sex life, and that made him feel like both a creep and a pervert and also like he needed to take a long cold shower before quitting his job and moving into a cabin somewhere in the woods. But he wasn't Gideon, so he just suffered through it, leaving rooms you entered and ending work related conversations as quickly as possible, before his mouth could move quicker than his brain.

After a week of being swiftly dodged, you had the chance finally to corner him and you took it.

Watching as Spencer stood to get himself another coffee from the break room, you stood, grabbed your own mug and quietly followed him. You prayed to God that the room would be empty, but were quickly forsaken by the door when you heard two make voices inside.

“So Y/N, huh?” an unfamiliar voice asked, tone polite but playful.

“I've heard some stories about that one,” he chuckled, and even the sound of it set your hair on edge.

“She's a very hard worker,” Spencer simply answered, as you heard him preparing his own coffee.

“She certainly makes working hard,” the man slapped his back, taking a sip of coffee.

“I heard you two have been going at it in the office. Strange foreplay, but she must be into rough stuff like that, isn't that right?”

You'd heard enough men talking about you in your life to be used to it, but a flush of anger still ran through you at the man's insinuations. You almost walked in to embarrass the man when Spencer spoke up.

“I don't like your tone,” he said calmly, and continued quickly when the man tried to joke again. “I have been to prison, you work in white collar, let's see which of us comes out of the kitchen in better shape when you're done speaking.”

“You're fucking insane.”

“You're what, 35? From the looks of it, your marriage is over because you keep playing with your ring uncomfortably, probably because you're cheating, but you feel just guilty enough about it to worry about your kids. They lied by the way, your not the world's no. 1 dad. Even if such metrics could be determined, you'd rank low on the list. Is it their babysitter or their teacher you're sleeping with? Or your wife's sister, perhaps?”

“You're crossing a line, Dr Reid, I don't know how-”

“Well, I'm glad you seem to understand boundaries well enough. There are lines you cross, and ones you respect, and if I hear anything at all unprofessional from you about my coworker again, I will use the last six months of my experiences to make life difficult for you.”

You walked in quickly, hearing the change in Spencer's tone from casual to something more threatening, more desperate. The other man had two fistfuls of Spencer's shirt, though you didn't doubt Spencer would easily be able to floor the man.

“Good afternoon,” you said quickly, just loud enough to be heard above the thick tension filling the room. “I believe you were just leaving, right?”

You looked to the unfamiliar man, and the shame burned his face as you forced him out of the room. As soon as he was gone, you walked over to Spencer, finished making his coffee as he stood silently next to you, eyes refusing to meet yours.

You put the hot drink in his hand, smoothed his shirt out and whispered a quick thank you before retreating back to your desk.

After that, you didn't get closer.

You thought you would. You tried to follow him to the kitchen to actually have the talk you wanted in the days that followed, but you never quite managed it.

You'd just stand together in equitable silence making your coffees. Sometimes you'd talk about the weather. About the case. About things your coworkers did that you both found funny. About shows and books you both liked. About whatever random fact Spencer became enthusiastic about that day, or whatever noir movie he'd seen the previous day.

You didn't become closer, but you grew used to one another.

When the team finally came back, Emily patted herself on the back for a job well done for keeping the two of you grounded. You begrudgingly admitted to yourself that while Spencer lacked tact, you should've been more patient with him when he was asking you to be careful.

You'd heard him similarly chastising a handful of men since, always careful just to listen until he was done, and then clean up afterwards.

Spencer found his anger closer to the surface after prison than it had been before prison. Instead of sympathy or words, his fists always tightened into balls when anything displeased him. He wanted desperately to hit colleagues sometimes, and kept his breathing steady enough to reply with violent words rather than violent actions.

He couldn't blame his experiences in prison for everything, of course. Part of the blame was yours.

As much as he knew potassium and water weren't a safe combination, he found himself wanting to be dropped back into that pool once again. Looking at you was like setting himself on fire, remembering your bodies twinned together was like a little explosion.

He didn't know what brought him to your door, but he knew it was an inevitable reaction, one in a long chain.

“Spencer?” you asked, meeting him at your door, wrapped only in a loose robe and the too small, too flimsy sleep set you'd taken to sleeping in in the summer months.

“Hi,” he said, a little awkwardly, as if gaining the courage to knock on your door was the end of his plan, and he didn't know what the next steps were.

“Hey. Why are you…?” Here. Standing at your door looking so hot after you'd stayed obsessed with him for the last week.

“Why are you holding a bottle of wine?”

“Oh. Oh this. This is for you. To drink. Its for us to drink together, really, I… I wanted to apologise.”

You welcomed him in silently and quickly. Quickly still, you made your way to the kitchen, grabbed two glasses and a bottle opener and made your way back to your sofa where Spencer was standing awkwardly still.

“Please sit down,” you said, craning your neck to look up at him as he gently handed you the bottle. He nodded and sat down next to you, both too close and too far away at once. You'd thought of Spencer as more of a silent apologiser. You'd expected him to just be happy and friendly with you from here on out instead of directly acknowledging anything had happened. You'd seen him bottle up so many emotions, what was a little more shame and sympathy?

Now that he was in front of you, you didn't know what to do.

“So, um. I'm sorry.”

“Yes. Yes, I know.”

The tension in the air was thick as you turned to pour two glasses of wine, waiting for him to continue.

“Thank you,” he said taking the glass you offered him in two hands before glancing at it quickly and then downing it.

“When I got out of prison, I was in a bad shape, and that isn't an excuse, it's just a fact. My brain was in overdrive, and I was on guard around all… all men specifically. The things I heard in prison weren't good, nothing nice as said about women in prison, and when I got out, and I still heard those things…” He stopped and looked away, taking another deep breath.

“I was overstepping. I was being overprotective, and overfamiliar, and jealous-”

“Spencer, stop,” you said, putting your glass down, and smiling at him reassuringly.

“I appreciate your apology, but really it's fine. I came in while you were gone and getting back to schedule when your entire team dynamic is off is hard, so of course you were going to be on edge around me and a little bit jealous of my bond with the team but-”

“The team?” Spencer stammered quickly, cutting you off as you tried to reassure him.

“You were… jealous of my place in the group. I was an outsider who took your place and then you were just a little shorter with me than you would've been if we were introduced in normal circumstances.”

“No, Y/N… I- Did you think this whole time I was jealous of you?”

He said it in his softest voice which almost hurt a little bit more.

“Yes. That's how you were behaving, you were always annoyed and-”

“Jealous. Yes. Not of you, because of you.”

You felt every single place on your body where the material of your clothes were touching your body. The distance between the two of you, already small, felt smaller still, like you were tipping over an edge towards one another when in reality you were as solid as a statue in your seats.

“Y/N, I want you,” Spencer whispered, almost little bit ashamed, a little bit scared of his confession. It was the kind of voice criminals used when confessing, a voice that seemed ashamed of its own actions. “I listened to every single word men said about you, and I wanted to rip their tongues out and feed them back to them so they wouldn't have the chance to taste you again. So they couldn't torture me with their knowledge of you.”

He stood up abruptly and took a step back, placing his wine glass down on the table and pacing a few more steps away.

“Y/N, why did you have to kiss me?” He said, almost defeated. “Why did you have to kiss me and then push me away?”

You stared at him for a second, unsure whether he wanted a real answer or not, his eyes round with desperation, but face turned away slightly, as if he couldn't bare the answer.

“To shut you up,” you whispered. He nodded at your answer and took a deep breath.

“Well, Prince, so Genoa and Lucca are now just family estates of the Buonapartes. But I warn you, if you don’t tell me that this means war, if you still try to defend the infamies and horrors perpetrated by that Antichrist-”

“Spencer? What-”

“I really believe he is Antichrist—I will have nothing more to do with you and you are no longer my friend, no longer my ��faithful slave,’ as you call yourself! But how do you do?”

“Spencer, what are you doing, why are you- are you quoting something at me.

“If you want me to stop, you know an effective solution,” he said, kneeling to the floor and looking up at you, continuing after a moments pause.

Quickly sinking to your knees as well, you grabbed the man by the collar and brought your lips to his.

As quietly desperate Spencer had been moments before, he took your kiss as an act of submission and countered quickly. You'd come to him, you'd listened to his request, and now he wasn't going to let you get the upper hand anymore.

Pulling you into his lap, his to guess pushed into your mouth as he wrapped your legs around him, guiding your cunt over his bulge as he kept up his attack against your tongue.

You fought back, trying to push him down to no luck. He caught your hands quickly, and standing up on his knees with one hand holding your ass in place, pinned you to the floor, arms held above your head in one large, strong, nearly painful grip.

Your body shook at the sudden motion, robe falling open and satin spilling over your body, revealing a single pink, perked up nipple that he eagerly latched onto.

You moaned at the contact of his hot tongue, the cold air hitting you at the exact moment his tongue dipped, as you held in a moan.

You couldn't hold in the second or third. By four you were practically humping up into the air to chase the sensations of his body pressed against your cunt.

“Spencer-” you moaned, cut off by a choke from your own throat as he roughly ripped down the other side of your shirt, harshly tugging at your other nipple with his fingers.

“If I had more time, I'd make you cum just from this. I'll spend hours edging your sore little nipples, just to make you happy,” he whispered, and you moaned as if it were your job, as if you were some cheap whore he was paying to abuse for the night.

“Good girl,” he said, tugging your underwear to the side and rubbing you slowly, coating his digits with your juices before pushing two fingers fully inside you quickly.

“No complaints. Take everything nicely.” he said, changing the angle of his hand as he began fucking you hard with just his hands.

“Fuck, Spencer, fuck- no, no, no, you have to stop! Fuck, I'll-”

He stopped just as instructed quickly, and you grabbed his hands to still his fingers, still inside of you.

“I need… shit I need hard nos's quickly Y/N. Tell me what I can and can't do.”

You gathered your breath enough to speak, but it was breathy, your breath still uneven, your legs still twitching as you lay on your back, cunt exposed to Spencer's greedy eyes. He drew small, gently circles on your clit with his thumb as you recovered.

“W-Why?” You managed to squeak out, cunt twitching at every accidental contact between you both.

“Because I'm either going to slap you to shut you up, or fuck your face, and I do believe in letting the lady decide.”

You couldn't help the scoff that came from your mouth, even though it was followed by another hitched breath and moan as you melted beneath him.

“You wouldn't do that, you're not the type.”

“What? What type am I not?”

“Slapping, spitting, demeaning. You're too… Spencer to do any of that,” you said, slowly raising your hips to fuck his fingers once again, pracitically begging him to keep us all his hard work.

Until he withdraws his hand and pulls you back into his lap, arms locking you in place on either sides of your waist.

“If I was anyone else,” he said slowly and deliberately, “Or if I was me and I possessed the ability to do any of that, would you consent to it?”

His words were a whisper, his fingers wet and hot on your nipples as he pulled, prodded, and played with them quietly.

“Well… you wouldn't-” you moaned at a sudden hard pinch, your hips jolting as he continued abusing your nipples.

“Everyone else has. Why can't I?”

“Spencer-” Another sharp pinch cut you off, forcing your eyes down to where he had a hand gently brushing against your chest, before sharply pinching it again.

“Hmm? What was that?”

“Spencer, p-please-”

You moan again as his other hand hooks around you to slide into your panties.

Pulls you fully onto his lap as he starts playing with your clit while tugging on your nipples, and he's waiting for you to give him permission to fuck you rougher.

“Can I do those things, Y/N?”

“Spencer….”

“Use your words to answer me, not your cunt. I know you're enjoying this.”

“Y-Yes.”

“Thank you,” he said, letting a hand trail up to your neck before kissing you gently on your lips again. The softness didn't last long as he picked up the pace with his other hand again, looming over you like a monster bent to its prey. His hand moved quickly, pushing in and out of you as you writhed on the floor, breaths shallow as he controlled where you went, where you looked, how you moved, and even how you breathed.

“S-Spencer,” you choked out, hands wrapping around his between your thighs, already twitching as your first orgasm hit you, twitching as he didn't slow down, moaning as you felt wetness seeping out of you in waves.

“Good girl. Good girl, you're doing so good for me. You want me to stop?” He asked.

“Yes, I can't- I can't do it anymore- nghhhh.”

“You can. Yes, you can, baby, you can. My little whore,” his voice was soft where his hands were hot, gripping your neck tighter as you focused only on breathing, legs shaking and twitching, squirming to get away even as you wished yourself to stay put.

“Good girl,” he said again, kissing you once again as his hand on your neck eased up. “One more time? One more right, baby?”

You nodded, not trusting yourself not to scream. With an open hand he slapped your face, just hard enough to draw a moan from your lips.

“Use your words, Y/N.”

“Y-Yes, I can do one more,” Ayou moaned, unsure if the stars you were seeing were from the harshness of the slap or the overstimulation. “Please.”

“Good manners,” he said, fingers slipping out of your cunt as you started to grind into him again, as soon as you said yes to another orgasm. “But I don't think I want you to cum yet.”

Lifting your hips, he urged you to turn over, pulling a pillow under your hips to help you lift them, still trembling as you were. A soft blanket was put under your head as he pushed your hips up, your shorts and panties pulled down and not just to the side now as he took all of you in.

“So drippy and wet, just for me…” he mused, probing a finger at your pussy again, laughing when you twitched at the contact.

“They say it tastes better than it feels you know,” he said pulling his phone out of his pocket before snapping a photo of your pussy, dripping and ready for him. “Look at it, what do you think?”

He thrusts the photo in your face as he pulled his dick out, letting it rub against the folds of your pussy as you moaned into defeat.

“Y/N, come on, what do you think? Do you taste better, or feel better?”

He propped up the phone in front of you and opened the camera, clicking record quickly as he slapped your ass.

“Answer me,” he insisted, cock head rubbing furiously against your clit now, fingers clamped down on a nipple, nails digging into your waist.

“Should I fuck you or eat that little cunt?”

“I- I don't know, Spencer, I don't know please-”

“Yes, you do. What should I do?”

You cried out in pleasure as you came again, the pressure on your clit too much too soon.

“F-fuck me,” you said, exhausted but still excited.

“Good girl,” he said again, withdrawing his touch before laying down under you and bringing your cunt to his mouth.

You tried to hold yourself up, but you couldn't as he licked and sucked and nudged at your clit with his nose. He'd ignored you, prolonged your torture, and decided he needed to decide for himself.

“Spencer…” you moaned, but it was weak. He chuckled into your cunt and you clamped your thighs around his face as far as you could, but he didn't relent.

Running a finger through your pussy to pick up your cum, he pushed a single digit into your asshole as you moaned slowly and weakly, face completely squished into the floor.

He pushed in and out slowly at first stretching your ass as you began riding his face, fucking against his to gue as you got closer and closer to release. The sooner you came now, the sooner he would release you.

But Spencer stilled your hips, and slowed his own movements to a few kisses here and there, letting one finger become two as he fucked your asshole. Eventually, all contact stopped with your cunt as you hungrily fucked his fingers, the stretch uncomfortable but good.

“Good girl, you like that? You like being my little anal slut? Good girl.”

The words hit hard, as you came on his face. He pulled his hands away and pushed you onto your back again, rising up to your fsve again.

“Open,” he said, and you obeyed letting him spit your own cum back into your mouth. His tongue connected with your own as you tasted yourself, hot and heavy on his lips.

As you kissed, he pushed your legs up, knees spread and with a single, hard, rough push, filled you with his cock.

You screamed in pleasure as he cooed into your ear. “I'm sorry baby, I couldn't help it. Your cunt looked too delicious, it was begging for my dick.”

Another slow pull out, and again he pushed in hard, stealing the breath from your lungs without even needing a hand on your neck.

Grabbing his phone, Spencer angled it towards where you were hungrily taking him in.

“This cunt is mine now, okay?”

You nodded, and he slapped you again.

“Words, Y/N, I need words. Tell me whose cunt this is.”

“Its yours, Spencer, all yours,” you moaned as he picked up his pace, lifting to his knees so he could drop it all into you.

“Shit, say more. Tell me what I can do to this pussy?”

“Abuse my pussy, Spencer. Stretch me out, slap me, keep me full, fuck I don't care, breed me,” you moaned, wrapping your arms around his neck as you lifted your chest up to his, thighs wrapped around his waist, ankles locked together behind him.

“You want me to cum in you? Want me to claim you so everyone can see?” He asked, nails digging into your thighs almost hard enough to draw blood.

“Yes!”

“Good…. fucking… slut,” he saif, and with a final thrust, he emptied his balls inside you.

You didn't move for a long time, catching your breath on the floor, a pile of limbs coated in sprsys of wetness and cum.

You started rubbing your cunt again first, as he joined in again with shallow thrusts, wincing and seething as he overstimulated himself.

You came quietly that last time and waited for him to pull out and clean you up.

He didn't. Keeping himself sheathed inside you, he awkwardly lifted the two of you to the couch and pulled your head down into his chest, letting you cockwarm him as your cum soaked into the material of the couch.

“Sleep for an hour or two. You'll wake up when it's time to go again.”

When you woke, it wasn't to Spencer starting again, but instead the ring of your phone. You tried to reach for it, to silence whatever alarm had decided to disturb you at that point, but Spencer was faster.

“Hello?” he said down the line, forgetting where he was for a second before you nestled into the crook of his neck again, fingers gently tracing his collarbone.

“Spencer?” Emily asked, confused and voice tired.

“Emily?” He asked. “We have a case?” He sat you up with him crasling you in his arms as you fully woke, your muscles objecting at this sudden movement. His cock stayed buried within you as you reoriented yourself.

“Uh, yeah. We've got an hour to get to the office and debrief, then were flying out- Spencer. This is Spencer?” she asked again, voice a muddle with confusion, tone rising by the second.

“Yes, Spencer. I'll be there.”

“And Y/N?” Emily asked. “I didn't dial the wrong number, Spencer, I have you all on speed dial. You're with Y/N?”

You sat bolt upright and took the phone from Spencer quickly, the shrill ringing of Emily's voice echoing down the line.

“We’ll be there,” you practically shouted. “We just drank together and-” you pulled the hair out of your face as you felt Spencer go rigid inside you again.

“A-and that's it. See you in an hour.”

Speedily you hung up, grabbed Spencer and pressed your lips to his again, pushing him down into the couch.

[reidscherrygirl]

೯⁺ 𖥻 𝓗 𝗢𝗠𝗘 𝗜𝗦 𝗪𝗛𝗘𝗥𝗘𝗩𝗘𝗥 𝗜'𝗠 𝗪𝗜𝗧𝗛 𝗬𝗢𝗨 ! ᰋ

ꨄ︎ 𝒫 airing : : 𝒮pencer reid x female!reader

ꨄ︎ 𝒮 ynopsis : : you get drunk on a night out and gush about your boyfriend━━SPENCER REID. he picks you up, takes care of you, and reminds you that you're deeply loved.

ꨄ︎ 𝓒ontents : : drunk!reader. female!reader. jj and reader are friends since high school. fluff. spencer being the most boyfriendest boyfriend ever & ever. both are down bad for each other. mentions of having sex. boys of tommen quote mentioned!! johnnyshannon quote mentioned!! cringe. cheesy. grammatical errors. ooc(?). reader wears a dress and heels. reader is part of the bau but isn't mentioned. english isn't viana's first language. not proofread.

ꨄ︎ 𝓦ord count : : 1.4k

ꨄ︎ 𝓒ase file shelf.

ꨄ︎ 𝒲hispers of viana : : so... it's always drunk! spencer,, what about drunk!reader, chat!?!?( joksies, i love love love love your works sososo much,, i haven't read the nsfw ones but i love them because yes. they're definitely good. ) going back to my oldoldold writing style because i miss it. anyways, this is probably like, my first , first, first s.reid fic in months. the ones i've posted yesterday were made in,,, february-ish,, so this is probably bad-bad-bad. i'm vv sorry in advance!! + how do you guys make friends here lawd. oh, oh, and again, english isn't my first language,, so forgive me !!

the dress you chose wasn't exactly comfortable, and the heels were the type that made you wonder every step of the way. they were cute in the mirror━━of course, but after standing for about ten minutes, it seemed like your feet were dying. nonetheless, you'd promised jj you'd attend. and when she mentioned that some of your old high school friends would be there━━the ones she still kept in contact with━━you thought it couldn't hurt. it had been an eternity since you let loose, and jj promised you'd be home before midnight. besides, SPENCER said he didn't mind.

"go," he said to you that morning, stroking his thumb over your knuckles the way he always did. "you need a break. and besides, you're with jj, so i'm not concerned.

you weren't even going to drink. really. that wasn't the intention. but then more and more drinks would come and there would be low lights and everyone would laugh and laugh and laugh like it was time machines and it was senior year once more and there were no bills to pay or the need to procrastinate school projects or heartbreak or anything like that. only music and giggles and sparkly eyeshadow and glossy lips.

jj laughed next to you, her wedding ring glinting in the bar lights like a miniature disco ball. they were congratulating the girl for getting married and having kids.

one of the girls leaned in, already a little drunk, her voice teasing. "so what about you?" she said. "you dating anyone?"

you blinked at her, wobbling a bit in your seat, your drink halfway to your lips. "mmhmn," you hummed contentedly. "boyfren. beautiful. so, so intelligent. like, utterly intelligent. my spencer."

jj gagged on her drink. "oh boy."

your friends leaned in, curious now. "wait, that's his name? spencer? is he cute?"

you breathed in sharply, eyes wide. "cute? noooo. he's celestial. like.. a star. with a phd. and fluffy hair. and cheekbones. and when he speaks, it's like... sexy wikipedia."

you laughed, tugging jj's arm for support. "he knows everything. and remember everything i say. even the stupid things. like one time i said birds don't have knees? and he said they do, but he said it all soft and sweet like i hadn't just said the most wrong thing ever."

"he has, like, eighteen phds! it's insane. but it's spencer, so it's not insane."

jj snorted. "he's got three phds."

you brushed her away. "three is basically the same as eighteen. he totally has eighteen."

everyone at the table burst into laughter. jj leaned over and whispered, "you're so gone."

“mhmn. 'm so gonna marry him.”

soon, the heels became your worst enemies. you dropped your chin dramatically onto jj's shoulder and groaned, "jayjjjeey. my feetsies hurt. the heels are murdering me. it's, like, medieval battles down there."

“maybe remove them?" jj suggested, raising an eyebrow.

"then i'll be short," you huffed, offended.

jj rolled her eyes and got out her phone. "i should probably call your boygenius before you start rambling about his hands again."

"his hands are so nice though!"

"yeah, yeah. i know." she began dialing.

spencer answered on the first ring. "jj?"

"hey━━" she began, but didn't get a chance to finish.

"spencer!" you yelled into the phone. saying the “e” in his name longer than it should be.

he stopped in his tracks. "is she━━?"

"she's drunk," jj answered, half-sorry, half-amused. "she's fine, though. just. ridiculously drunk. here."

you pulled the phone away from her like it was your personal offender. "hi, hi. hi again" you drawled, stretching it out like the best song. "guess who?"

"hmm," spencer muttered, tone gentle. "i'm going to go say the love of my life?"

you squealed. loudly. "oh my god, you're so cute. spencer. your voice is like.. silk. but, like, smart silk. is that a thing?"

he was grinning into the phone now, though he was already getting up to grab his jacket. "did you have fun tonight?"

"mhm. so much fun. they asked if i have a boyfren and i was like 'duh' and they were like 'is he cute?' and i was like 'no. he's an actual greek god with brown eyes and a brain that could take over the world.'"

you were slurring more now. even over the phone, he could hear how your words tangled together.

"do you want me to come get you?"

you stopped as if you needed to think very hard. then you spoke softly but loud enough, "yes. yes. come and get me. please. i want to see your face. want to touch your hair. want━━to━━wait. jj! jj, he's coming!"

behind him, he heard jj say, "alright, just sit down and don't trip over, please."

twenty minutes later, spencer entered the bar, eyes sweeping until they found jj and the table of your old friends. he nodded at jj as greeting.

one of the girls blinked. "oh wow. you didn't say he looked like that."

"he's like a hot professor," another whispered.

you saw him. stood up way too fast. stumbled right into his chest.

"spence!" you cried, arms flinging around his neck.

he caught you quickly, his arms tight at your waist. "careful," he breathed, his nose buried in your hair.

you whirled away to your friends as if you'd just won a prize. "he's taken! so taken. all mine. back off."

they all erupted into laughter. jj put her hand across her face, trying so hard to prevent herself from losing it. "okay, casanova. let him breathe."

you didn't listen. your lips began leaving kisses on his cheek, his jaw, the edge of his neck, and his face flushed deep red.

"let's get you home," he said softly, scooping you up into his arms like you were nothing.

"bye guys!" you waved extravagantly. "jj i love you! and you're all so pretty!"

you wrapped both of your arms around his neck even as he attempted to put you into the car.

"baby," you mumbled, holding on. "don't go."

"i'm not leaving. i'm just buckling you in."

"you sing," you commanded as he removed your heels.

he hesitated. "sing what?"

"science lullaby."

"you want me to sing. the laws of thermodynamics?"

you nodded seriously. "yes. they comfort me." his voice did. but the same thing.

when you did finally get home━━well, technically his place but now it felt like your home as well━━spencer attempted to get you to put on your heels again so that you wouldn't dirty your feet and so he could lock the car. you complained but wore it anyway.

once inside, you kicked them off like they'd personally offended you. "they betrayed me."

he stooped to put them down tidily beside the door. when he stood up, you were propped against the wall, bottom lip protruding.

"come on," he groaned lovingly, sweeping you up into his arms.

you breathed onto his shoulder. "you're so strong. do you work out? or are you just. spencer-y?"

he chuckled, carrying you into the bathroom. "let's get you cleaned up."

he sat you down on the side of the tub and picked up your makeup wipes. "close your eyes."

you did, scrunching up your lips. "kiss me."

"after i remove the mascara," he grumbled.

his hands were soft, tracing slow, gentle circles. "you always get this little smudge right here," he said, swiping under your left eye. "you never see it. but i do."

"you notice everything," you sighed, in awe.

"i do," he said again, softer.

he handed you your toothbrush then and stood over you like a hawk. "don't swallow it."

"you're like a sexy dentist," you said, toothpaste running down your chin.

he wiped it away. "you're going to regret all the things you said tonight."

after brushing, he put you into one of his large shirts and carried you to bed.( after making you urinate ). you held onto him like a koala, burying your face in the crook of his neck.

"love you," you breathed.

"love you too," he whispered, sweeping your hair aside.

you kissed him, slowly and deep, your hands fumbling with his shirt.

"baby," you muttered on his lips. "i want you."

he pulled away, his breathing ragged. "you're drunk."

"so?"

"so i'm not doing anything until you're sober."

you pouted. "but i want to."

"i know. and i love you. all of you. not drunk-you. tomorrow, okay?"

you scowled but nodded. "for keeps?"

"for keeps."

you wrapped into his chest, exhaling as your body relaxed into the blankets.

and even when your breaths grew slower and your hand remained tucked over his heart, spencer didn't sleep━━not yet. he simply watched you, drawing invisible shapes on your back, committing to memory the precise curve of your smile even in sleep.

even drunk, you loved him.

and god, did he love you too.

© reidscherrygirl

[jordiemeow]

summary: when anakin gets denied the rank of master, he's overwrought with tension. no better way to deal with it than sneaking out to visit his favourite girl at his favourite brothel on the lower levels of coruscant.

warnings: smut 18+, face-sitting, mild sub!anakin, reader is a prostitute, brief comfort ending in f!receiving oral, anakin is a giver!! cathartic head-giving

notes: in honour of may the fourth! need to remake my taglist for specific fandoms so not tagging anyone here. not my usual audience so if this flops idc but anakin has been on my mind a lot recently (when is he not). anyways happy star wars day :)

"It's... it's a joke, is what it is. And he didn't stick up for me. Not once. What an excuse for a mentor if he's just going to—"

You're not listening at this point. Head tilted, lips slick with red paint, body on display. It's a shame the sheer two-piece is going to waste on a Jedi rambling on about how betrayed he feels by the Order. It's also terribly hard to listen to said 'betrayal' when his robes and tunic have been shrugged off to leave him in just his pants, defined muscles rippling under the dim light of your private room.

Something about feeling too restricted. You'd laughed and said the removal of clothes was pretty typical in this establishment, but your attempts at levity proved futile. Fast forward to now...

"—And don't even get me started on Master Windu." (You weren't going to.) "How can he look me in the eyes and tell me that? Like I don't deserve it for all the work I've done for them. Risked my lives countless times. Saved millions—no, dare I say billions—and this is the thanks I get!"

Billions? You aren't so sure about that. You keep the comment to yourself—maybe he's right. You don't ask him for information; it's always willingly passed on. He could be the most decorated Jedi in the Order after this war and you would be none the wiser.

He paces back and forth restlessly, hands tightened into fits and jaw taut with tension. You'd almost be a little frightened if most of your visits from him didn't start with some sort of temper tantrum. All this just for you to soothe him into bed and make him forget.

"Ridiculous," he spits as you watch on plaintively. It's like spectating a meltdown, you can't help but think. You're surprised he hasn't thrown something yet. Destruction is always a symptom of his annoyance. You wonder briefly if his room back at the Temple is in disarray. "And then Obi-Wan has the audacity to ask me to—"

You cross the room to reach him just in time to stop him from saying something he absolutely should not be telling a prostitute. You know half the Jedi Order's secrets by now from his visits. A hand rests upon his left arm, the one made of human flesh. Gentle, tentative, like you're trying not to scare off a frightened animal. He almost jerks it back, but his eyes soften when you speak.

"Ani," you croon gently. The nickname makes the tension in his shoulders ease. "Just come to bed. You're getting yourself all worked up."

He sighs. He knows you're right. But he's stubborn on a good day, and today is not one of those.

"You don't understand. They're treating me like I'm less than them just because the Chancellor recommended me. Like I haven't done everything to prove I'm more than just a Knight before he got involved."

"You aren't less than them just because they go around calling themselves Masters. A lot of men in here do that, you know. Makes them feel powerful. If it makes you feel better, I could call you that."

He rolls his eyes. Fond. Amused. "That doesn't really count."

"No, I suppose not," you smile. The kind with your eyes that crinkles softly. The kind that always makes him wonder whether you're actually being authentic. Sometimes he forgets you're human under all the sequins and smoke, when you strut around the room like you're one of the suns and everyone else is in orbit.

You seem like you genuinely want to put him at ease right now, even with all your playful little jabs. It makes him sigh, shoulders slumping as his hand finds your waist.

"You're good at this, you know," he murmurs.

"And you're good at being a Jedi hero," you counter, gently urging him back towards the bed. "But enough moping. I'm not wasting this outfit on you if you think your credits are going towards therapy."

He laughs as the back of his legs hit the bed, letting himself fall. He props himself up on his elbows to watch you trail a tantalising finger down your chest, through the valley of your breasts. It's enough to make any man's throat go dry. Especially a Jedi who's only form of action is the rare occasions he can sneak away to see you.

"No? What are they going towards, then?"

"Depends. Whaddya want tonight?" You ask playfully, tugging at the alarmingly thin strap between the two cups barely concealing your tits. His eyes are drawn to them, watching the way the fat spills out of the satin, the red material a stark contrast to your skin.

He swallows thickly.

"Eyes up here, big shot."

His blue eyes flick up to your own, a little sheepish. This is the part where he has you sprawl out beneath him for his perusal. But instead, he says:

"I just want to feel good at something. Make you feel good."

It surprises you a little, your hand faltering where it's been idly exploring your cleavage. You recover quickly enough that he doesn't comment on your blunder. "You always make me feel good."

"That's a practiced answer," he accuses.

"Practiced but true in your case."

"Fine. But I mean it. I could use the ego boost."

"But—"

"Who's the paying customer?" Anakin interjects.

"You aren't making me feel very good by smart-mouthing me, you know."

He ignores your faux-admonishment. "So you'll let me?"

It's not as if you're opposed to it. Not in the slightest. It's just surprising.

"I'd let you do anything. You know I would."

A shadow of a grin crosses his face, before his braced elbows fall and he lays down. Dark hair spread across your pillows, fanning out in messy curls against the satin.

"Ride my face."

He says it so earnestly you almost laugh. Sometimes you forget how young he is. Nothing like the old timers who come in here looking for a quick fuck with no regards for anything but their own dicks.

"Are you sure? We've never done that before."

"You're not the only girl I've been with," he counters. It's almost enough to make your chest twinge with jealousy—you know he's seen other girls here. When you're busy, or before you became his favourite. You're a professional, though. Don't let it show.

"Okay," you relent. You can't help but be spiteful, though. Panties dragging agonisingly down your thighs while he watches through half-lidded eyes as the fabric inches lower, lower, lower...

Eventually they pool around your ankles, and you step out of them. The bra (a generous term for such a skimpy piece of fabric) follows as you move to straddle him.

"Higher," he says, hands finding your thighs and attempting to pull you further up his body. The contrast between cool metal and a warm palm on each leg makes you shudder.

You whack a hand gently. "Patient. Thought you wanted to be good?"

He bites back a groan, his hands stilling. They still rest on the plush flesh of your thighs, but he isn't tugging insistently at your limbs to get you where he wants you. You continue with your torturous pace, moving up his body. The slick of your cunt drags across his bare abs, and a sharp breath escapes him.

The friction is enough to have you sigh softly as you ease upwards. You take your time teasing his nipples until he's tensing underneath you, back arched up off the mattress and fingers curling into your skin.

"I didn't think this would make you so much of a tease," he says breathlessly.

"Isn't this what you wanted?" Your eyelashes bat innocently at him. "This is what gets me off. You're being useful."

He gives you an unimpressed look for your faux-naïf, but he keeps his mouth shut. You're so close that he doesn't want to goad you into holding back any longer. And he's rewarded for his patience when you give a little pat to his pecs, and finally move to hover over his face.

He looks like an undercity kid who's seen the surface for the first time. Eager blue eyes, mouth salivating at the sight of your dripping cunt above him. It's hard to find the restraint to not dive in and bury his nose in your folds. Just the smell almost has his eyes rolling back.

"Please," he murmurs. Breathy and whiny, like a young man begging for a drop of salvation, not the famed 'Hero with No Fear' breaking his Code to spend the night in a pleasure house. "C'mon. Just let me. Oh, please, I need it—"

You sink down onto his mouth before he can finish his sentence. He moans into your heat, tongue flicking out to drink up whatever has already spilled from you. There's nothing tentative about it—it's like he's devoting everything into worshipping you with his mouth. Gone are the thoughts of his Master and the rest of the Council denying him. All he can comprehend is your sweet mewls as you sit atop his face.

His chin is soaked with the fluids of your pleasure, nose nudging your clit each time you roll your hips against his face. It's instinctive and you hardly mean to do it, but he grips your hips and guides you to grind against his eager mouth.

"Oh, Ani," you moan softly. "Just like that. Mhm."

It's enough encouragement for him to keep working. Dutifully strokes of his tongue, switching between nuzzling between your slick folds and sucking at your clit. Cheeks hollowed out and applying suction as you brace a hand against the headboard, the other nestled into his soft curls.

Your thighs tremble on each side of his head, toes curling into the sheets every time he flicks eagerly at the bud. Hips rocking upwards against the air in search of friction he physically cannot receive right now, cock hard and leaking in the confines of his pants. His erection is almost painful, but he wasn’t lying when he said he wanted to be good for something.

"You'd do wonders in here, you know,” you manage through a groan. “If you're looking to become a— oh, fuckkkk—different kind of master. Very skilled mouth."

His laugh vibrates against your dripping cunt. "Tempting, if I get to work in such close quarters with you."

"Mhm, maybe. Perhaps we could become a bit of a duo. They pay extra for that, you know. And the tips are great. You should really— oh!"

His teeth graze against that sensitive spot that has your eyes rolling back. "I didn't come here for a new career. Just let me make you feel good, please?"

All you can manage is a hum of agreement with the way he's redoubled his efforts. Tongue flattened against the roll of your hips, obediently letting you use his wet mouth to chase your own pleasure. The feeling of your sopping cunt grinding against his face chases anything but you from his mind.

The pleasure grows almost blinding. "Fuck, close," you gasp out, tugging lightly on his hair.

It earns a pleased moan into your heat. "Please. Wanna feel it," he mumbles, a rumble into you in between licks of his tongue. He doesn't think he's ever tasted anything sweeter.

A few more carefully placed laps and your thighs tense. One of your hands moves to cup your breast as you ride through your orgasm, release spilling over his awaiting mouth. He welcomes it all eagerly, working you through it as his name falls off your tongue again and again.

When you roll off of him, you're both short of breath. Neither of you bother to wipe the smear of your slick off his chin as you sink down next to him. One glance to the chronometer on the wall tells you he's spent most of his time worshipping your pussy rather than chasing his own pleasure. Another glance, this time to him, makes it very clear he isn't bothered by that in the slightest.

Oh, well. You still have a few more minutes for him to smother you in affection unbefitting of two people from your stations in life.

It’s quiet after that. Light, fleeting touches as you catch your breaths.

Aftercare with him is the best part, you think. When all the tension is released and he's all lazy, boyish smiles as he runs his hands absently up and down your bare arm. Soft kisses placed to your shoulders, an apologetic brush of his lips against any splotchy bruises left by the men and women before him. Most patrons are always right out the door, but Anakin...

Well, he likes to check in. Make sure you're okay. Have a bit of banter.

"Was I too much? Was that alright?"

You smile. A silly question, given you were calling most of the shots when you were actually on top of him. You answer anyways.

"No. No, you were perfect," you tell him softly, pushing a sweaty brown curl off of his forehead.

His brow pinches like he doesn't believe you. Not about the too much part. The perfect part. "But I—"

"Ani," you cut him off. The nickname makes him melt back into the sheets. More docile, relaxed. "You are perfect. Those Jedis all have sticks up their asses if they can't see you deserve to sit around their silly little table, or whatever it is they do up in their fancy pants Council Room."

He sighs. A beat of silence.

"... Lightsabers," he corrects.

You blink stupidly. "What?"

"They have lightsabers stuck up their asses."

There's the Anakin you know. You snort softly, bracing your forearm on top of his chest to peer down at him. "I'm pretty sure that'd burn them inside out."

"Maybe they deserve it," he fires back. Something about the way he says it makes you think he's not entirely joking. But you laugh anyways, head shaking softly.

"Maybe they do," you agree, ducking down to plant a kiss to the corner of his mouth. "Anyways, you best get going. I have to clean up before the next one comes in."

"Do I have to?" He groans. "Just cancel. Tell them you're sick."

"She's a regular. Unfortunately, you have to go face reality." You sit up, patting his chest. "Go be a big, brave Jedi for me, yeah?"

Anakin rolls his eyes, but he obliges reluctantly, even if he makes a big show of sighing loudly and dragging himself sluggishly out of the soiled sheets in search of his discarded robes.

If tonight has shown you one thing, it's that he probably shouldn't be a Jedi Master after all the rules he's broken in one evening alone. But you don't tell him that. You make your coin out of sleeping with sleazebags from all over the Galaxy in the Coruscant Underworld, after all.

Who are you to judge?

[straows]

Are you cheating on me?

Request ✔️ @sejel

—In which, Jjk men have dupes of your lip-gloss in case you need it, but you didn't know 'til you found it.

Gojo, Nanami, Sukuna

A/n: I hope this is what you were looking for, as I got to writing I kinda forgot what the prompt rlly was... hope you enjoy though!

Groaning, you looked through your makeup bag to try and find your favorite lipgloss. You’d swear you’d bought a spare, but you cant find it. It had your brows furrowing and a your lips to pull into an angry pout.

Slipping off your heels, you marched right into the kitchen, practically turning the place upside down.

“Where the fuck is it?!” You mumbled, stressing because you’d told him you’d be ready to leave for your date by the next four minutes.

Going back into your bedroom, you looked through his bedside dresser. Only to pause when you noticed a tube of lipgloss. The same brand as yours, just one shade off.

You stared at that tube for a lot longer than four minutes. Hell you stared at it so long that your eyes got dry and you were almost squinting.

Because why the fuck, did he have this lip-gloss?

Your knuckles closed around it so tight they turned white. The possibility that he was cheating on you had your blood running hot. But you had to calm down. It could be a misunderstanding. Right? Right?

Walking into the kitchen, barefoot, no lipgloss, you leaned against the counter top, voice all sweet and doting like it usually was, except for the drips of venom that clouded your tone. “Baby, can I ask you a question real quick?”

Gojo Satoru;

Turning away from the sugar cookies he was gulping down, Gojo wiped his mouth and nodded with a smile. “Of course sweets, you’re lookin’ good. No gloss today?”

He looked your figure over appreciatively, oblivious to the grave mistakes he’d made.

“Well, I just wanted to ask you,” A sardonic smile on your lips, you put the gloss on the counter top, that smile dropping with a glare, “what the fuck is this doing in your drawer?”

“Huh?” Gojo just looked at you stupidly. So confused as to why his woman was getting angry over a tube of gloss he’d bought for her in case she needed it, but also absolutely turned on with how your talking to him.

“This isn’t even my shade, so don’t you play stupid with me, Gojo.” Your nose wrinkled slightly as your lip curled in anger. “Who’s is this? Was she in our house? Why the fuck is she using the same brand as me?”

Gojo felt a shiver go down his spine at how you said his name, and quickly he moved forward to do damage control. “What do you mean wrong shade? Baby that’s your shade. I’d bought it for you in case the one you had ran out.”

You paused, before quickly pulling out your phone to look at your shared bank account, and surely enough there was the charge from Ulta for the gloss.

“Oh.”

“Did you think I was cheating on you? Really baby?” Gojo would be upset, if he didn’t love how embarrassed you were. Taking slow but big steps towards you, his hands found your hips and pulled you in close. “How could you think id cheat on you?”

“I- well- it just- it’s not my shade and it’s in your drawer and I just- I’m so sorry, Toru.” Groaning, your head dropped to his chest, hands resting on his forearm.

“It’s alright… but I think you should make it up to me.” Gojo grinned against your cheek, pressing a few kisses here and there before biting down teasingly under your jaw.

“…but the date—“

“Fuck the date, I gotta remind you how much I love you.” Picking you up easily by the underside of your thighs, Gojo easily carried you back to your shared bedroom.

The tube of lip-gloss left on the counter alone.

Nanami Kento;

“Yes honey?” Kento didn’t turn to look at you, and was looking the reflection of the microwave. He’d been struggling with his tie for the past five minutes, and usually he had it down pat but today was not his day. “Can you help me with this real quick, I seem to be struggling for whatever reason today.”

Feeling your resolve crack, you just cleared your throat. “Kento.”

Pausing, he finally turned around only to find your very serious expression. One that was hardly ever sees you with. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

“Why was this lipgloss in your drawer?” You had to keep your voice stern because the way he was looking at you like you were crazy almost made you want to crumble and laugh.

“You don’t remember?” Kento walked up to the counter, and picked up the gloss, “you’d asked a few weeks ago if I had any idea where your gloss went, and I didn’t, so I went and ordered you one. I apologize if this isn’t the right shade, but it’s the one I ordered for you.”

Your mouth was left opened for a moment before you closed it and nodded. “I knew that, I was just um… testing you.” Cheeks red in embarrassment, you quickly grabbed the gloss and tried to walk away, however a hand on your wrist had you turning around and landing into Kento’s chest.

“Did you think I was cheating on you?” Kento’s voice was low and quiet, his eyes locked with yours as he held you.

“…no…” Looking away, a pout on your lips.

“Honey,” Kento gently tilted your head back towards him, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips, “I have absolutely no time to juggle you and another woman. You simply take up all space in my mind.”

You smiled sweetly up at him, before tilting your head, “did you just call me fat?”

“Huh?”

“I’m kidding. I love you, thank you. ‘M sorry for jumping to conclusions.” Getting on your tip toes, you pressed a kiss to his cheek before helping him with his tie.

Sukuna Ryomen;

Sukuna just stared at you, brows furrowed as he looked you over. First, appreciating your appearance, secondly, confused on what the fuck you’re talking about.

“Why are you showing me some tube?” Crossing his arms, his arms flexing as he did.

“Why was this lipgloss in your drawer?” You huffed, brows furrowed and voice demanding.

“Woman, you have the memory of the peanut.” Sukuna groaned, rubbing a hand over his face.

“So you are cheating!” You pointed, eyes wide as if you’d been suspecting it for days it’s been 8 minutes.

“Cheating on you? I’ve killed all the concubines. All of the servants are over the age of 45, and you are constantly near me.” Sukuna leaned against the counter, his face inches from yours. “Are you sure in this accusation or do you just want to punished?”

Blinking once, twice, thrice, you paused. “Hey I never said that—“

“Too late.” Wrapping an arm around you, Sukuna easily lifted you by your hips. Holding you like a dog that just caught trying to run off.

“No! Wait— I’m still sore!” Whining, you try to bite at his arms but he just grins.

“You know I like it when you bite, you must be eager. Not to worry woman, I will satiate you.” That shit eating grin on his mouth and his stomach mouth.

“Can I at least ride you?”

“No.”

“PLEASSEEEEE”

“Keep talking, it will only elongate the inevitable.”

[niwaart]

DOCTOR!MALE!READER X BATFAM

[Part1 - Part2 - Part3 - Part4 - Part5 - part6...]

#############################

Y/N groaned as he stumbled into the hospital staff hallway, rubbing his tired eyes. Last night's Wayne family dinner had been a disaster—stealing a cake, a food fight, and Damian trying to stab Tim with a fork. He just wanted to get to his office, drink his orange juice in peace, and forget about it all.

But the universe had other plans.

As soon as he stepped into the hallway, Sammy, his usually calm assistant, grabbed his arm and dragged him into the pantry.

"Where the hell have you been?!" Sammy whispered in panic. "Do you have any idea what's going on right now?!"

Y/N blinked. "Um... no? Did anyone die?"

Sammy shoved a newspaper into his hands.

The front-page headline:

《《Bruce Wayne's Secret Doctor? Mysterious man spotted leaving Wayne Manor late at night! 》》

Below, there was a blurry but clear image of Y/N sneaking out of Wayne Manor, his bag suspiciously stuffed with what appeared to be stolen goods (which were actually Alfred's cookies).

Y/N's stomach lurched. "Oh. Oh no."

Sammy groaned. "Oh no?! That's all you have to say?! The entire Gotham press is out, convinced you're Bruce Wayne's personal psychiatrist! The hospital board is panicking, the nurses are cackling, and—"

A loud thump echoed from the front hall.

Both men froze.

"Dr. Y/N! Are you treating Bruce Wayne for a mental illness?!" a reporter shouted from outside.

"Is he unstable? Is that why he adopted so many children?!" another reporter said.

Y/N slowly turned to Sammy. "...I think I need to fake my death."

Sammy grabbed his shoulders. "No. What you need is a statement—something to make them go away!"

Y/N rubbed his temples. "Like what? 'Sorry, I'm not a therapist, I'm just his bastard son and I went to him for cake?'"

Sammy gave him a blank stare. "...Maybe you're ignoring the bastard son and cake part."

Y/N hoped the reporters would get bored and leave.

They didn't.

Instead, they multiplied.

By noon, the hospital lobby was packed—reporters shoving microphones at anyone wearing a lab coat, cameras flashing, and sweating security guards holding back the crowd.

Y/N, hiding behind a potted plant, watched in horror as an overly aggressive reporter cornered a terrified intern.

Reporter: "Is it true that Dr. Y/N is using the experimental treatment on Bruce?!"

"I—I don't know, I'm just getting coffee—" the intern said, panicking.

Y/N grumbled. "This is a nightmare."

Sammy, his auras appearing dark circles under his eyes, he muttered, "You think? The council is threatening to suspend you until this 'gets sorted out.'"

Y/N's eye twitched. "Suspending me?! Why? For my presence?!"

Sammy sighed. "For causing a media frenzy that harmed the hospital's operations."

Y/N opened his mouth to argue—

**Bzzzzt.**

His phone vibrated. A text message notification lit up the screen.

Unknown number:

"Turn on channel 5 now."

Y/N frowned, grabbed the remote in the break room, and flipped to the local news.

Newscaster (on screen):

"Breaking news—Wayne Enterprises has just released an official statement regarding the rumors surrounding Bruce Wayne and Dr. Y/N Wayne of Gotham General Hospital."

The video cut to a pre-recorded video of Lucius Fox, standing in front of the Wayne Enterprises logo.

Lucius Fox said calmly, "Contrary to recent speculation, Dr. Wayne is not, and has never been, Bruce Wayne's personal psychiatrist. He was invited to Wayne Manor as part of a special charity initiative for the pediatric wing of Gotham General Hospital. Any other claims are baseless and irresponsible.”

Y/N was surprised.

Sammy whistled. “Oh my God. Bruce Wayne saved you.”

Y/N stared at the screen, torn between relief and skepticism. “...Why?”

Sammy shrugged. “Maybe because you’re his son?”

Y/N snorted. “I doubt it. He doesn’t seem to want the press to explore his secrets.”

By evening, the reporters had finally dispersed, though some lingered outside, hoping for a scoop.

Y/N sat in his office, exhausted, staring at the last remaining cupcake he’d smuggled out of Wayne Manor.

“Okay,” Sammy said, looking at Y/N. “Now what?”

Y/N took a slow bite of the cupcake. “And now? Pretend it never happened."

Sammy raised an eyebrow. "And the next time Bruce Wayne invites you to dinner?"

Y/N chewed the muffin thoughtfully. "...I'll get a bigger bag for the muffin."

Sammy grumbled. "You're hopeless."

Y/N smirked. "But you love me."

"That's debatable," Sammy said wearily as he walked out of the office.

At Wayne Manor, Bruce sat at his desk, watching the news coverage fade on his tablet.

"That was...uncharacteristically kind of you, Master Bruce," Alfred said coldly.

Bruce sighed. "The last thing I need is for the press to associate him with me in the wrong way."

Dick leaned into the cave entrance. "Or...maybe you didn't want your son to be bullied?"

Bruce glared at him. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

Dick grinned. "Of course, B. Anything to help you sleep at night."

Bruce ignored him and went back to his tablet. But as he watched the last reporter leave Gotham General Hospital, a small, almost imperceptible smile spread across his lips.

############################

Side story:

Dick: [sends article link] GUYS LOOK Y/N BEING KIDNAPPED BY RED HOOD 

Tim: That’s not kidnapping. That’s a rescue. 

Damian: Tt. He’s weak. 

Steph: Aww, Jason’s being a protective big bro! 

Jason: SHUT UP. 

Bruce:…Is he safe? 

Jason: Yeah, yeah. He’s complaining about missing his cupcakes. 

Y/N (added to chat): I HEARD THAT. 

Dick: WELCOME TO THE FAMILY GROUP CHAT, BIG BRO! 

Y/N: …I hate all of you. 

[Y/N has left the chat.]

Jason: He’ll be back. 

Tim: Yeah. For Alfred’s cake. 

[Bruce Wayne has sent a photo of a triple-layer chocolate cake.]

[Y/N has rejoined the chat.]

Y/N: …Fine. But I’m bringing my own fork

############################

@roxy776699 @missmannequin @theultimatezazasniffer @chericia @mybones537 @thegothamsiren

@eyeless-kun @thegothamsiren @a-brilliante-mariposa @s4raahi @s0ggyrate @glasscurrents @iiriam5 @f33rumm

[gay-dorito-dust]

How do you think Dante, Vergil and Nero would react to their human S/O feeling like they don't deserve them? Like they think they could do better than a human like them. Even though their boy is Half/part human? And even voice that opinion?

Dante

feels saddened that you felt as though you weren't enough for him all in due to being human, something that you thought was holding him back from looking for something better; but what you didn't know is that you ARE that something better for Dante and he wasn't about to let you continue thinking like this any longer.

He absolutely refuses to allow this to continue.

'babe i'm a half demon, i'm no way any better off without you nor your heart that did nothing but love me no matter what.' Dante started as he holds you in his arms, caressing your back and tracing patterns into it as you cling onto him as though you were scared to let go.

'i still think you deserve better then me, i'm no hunter and can't keep up with you half the time and i can't help but feel as though you need someone who can keep up, someone who can match you in every aspect possible instead of someone who worries if your okay and feels helpless in general when i don't know how to defend myself.' you replied, burrowing your face futher into his chest as you felt the waves of hurt wash over you as you spoke what you felt was the truth.

what was the point of someone like dante being with someone like you if your always going to be hiding behind him when someone slightly threating came across your line of sight, whereas if it was anyone else would stand tall and stand their ground perfectly on their own.

Dante frowns. 'i don't need someone to keep up with me, i need someone to slow me down, i need someone to worry me into worrying about myself and making sure that i can make sure i come home to you safe.' He pinches your side slighlty, making you jolt and look at him as he smiled when he had your attention all on him, showing off his canines.

‘I need someone who will make me take care of myself, recognise that while I’m part demon, but I’m also part human and that part needs protecting more so from my reckless behaviour as much as it does from other demons hellbent on killing me. I need someone who can tell the emotions on my face as easily as though it’s a book and know what I need without words. I need you sweetheart, no one else will do and never will when they have you to unfairly live up to.’ He admits to you in a tone so serious that it made you pay attention to his every word as though it was gospel.

‘You understand?’ He asks you upon noticing your prolonged silence, kissing your cheek when you made a hum of agreement that you had indeed heard and understood his words that had left his mouth. ‘You understand your worth everything to me because I fear of who I’d become if I ever lost you, forever the one person who had only stayed by my side even when they knew how dangerous it would be, and yet they dared to laugh in the face of fate and tell them that you weren’t moving anywhere.’ He adds as he tightened his hold on you out of instinct.

‘Is that really how you see me?’ You inquired.

‘I see you as so much more sweetheart but there aren’t enough words to describe just how much you complete me and make me feel at home like the one I’ve lost a long time ago.’ Dante answered truthfully to your question as you stayed within the other’s arms and sharing whispers of sweet nothings for the duration of the day.

Vergil

He feels as though he might be partically to blame for this mindset of yours with how much he berated humanity as a whole, despite the fact that he himself was half human. Vergil felt as though he had planted the seeds of doudt and insecurity within your head to fester and grow, even under his watchful eyes, as you continue to wonder what was the point in staying with someone who was so vocal with his distain towards anything and all things human.

This was something Vergil felt as though he needed to rectify immeditetly before he lost it all...again.

'i am not in any way deserving more then you,' He begins as he holds your hands within his own, 'if anything you are far more deserving then the likes of me, for you embrace and accept what i cannot anf for that, you posess a strength that i can only fathom the origins of and you smile and stand strong even when you're at your weakest. That is the you that i admire my little dove.'

you frowned. 'what about the moments where i'm not? where im more human then i've ever been, am i still strong or far too human for you to handle?' you asked of him and Vergil clenched his jaw, furrowing his brows as though he was looking for the awnser, but in reality Vergil had the awnser within him and it had been there for a very long time and it had been waiting for this very momwnt to come out.

'even when you're 'more human' as you put it, you are still embracing that side of you that i have long since casted aside, you are not shunning away what makes you you. You are fully aware that you human and yet the feets you have acomplished made you feel bigger than with simple acts of kindness, with th way your gentleness touches eveything and everyone in your presence.' Vergil squeezes your hands reassuringly, 'It's a blessing to be able to bear witness to you smiling and cooing at a cat you seen down the street, it's a blessing to see you cry over a movie and it's even more of a blessing in knowing that i am the one you trust to be vulnerable infront of.' Vergil then rests his forhead agaisnt yours so you could only looked into the icy blue eyes of his that looked at you with a fondeness.

'So don't ever be ashamed of being human, especially not infront of me becuase it was you being human towards me that was the reason i wished for you to be mine, and i wouldn't want you to be anything but human.' he kisses your nose, an act that made you smile, 'So don't you dare change for a foolish half demon like me, when you being human helps me embrace my own humanity alongside you, help me learn to be okay with being human alongside you is the greastest honour of my life after being in darkness for so long.' He steals a kiss from your lips.

'so thank you for being the light that guided me out of the dark.'

Nero

Hates that your putting yourself down becuase you felt as though you couldn't live up to his expectations soely for the fact that you were human, when in reality you were everything he could ever hope for in his entire life.

'where did this come from?' he asks.

you shrug. 'does it matter? it doesn't change the fact that i'm just a stupid human and that you deserve more then something so plain and dull.' you tell him and Nero was quick to hut his hands on your shoulders, forcing you to look him in his face that was filled with determination.

'it does matter becuase you're talking about my person, my favourite person alive who is nothing short of perfect, nothing short of being my reason of never stepping over a line that would lead me down a life similar to my father's.' Nero's face harded at the mention of Vergil, but relaxed to look at you with a soft smile and fond eyes. 'you're talking down someone who had stepped in moments where i seemed to be lossing myself, when i seemed too close to abandoning everything i cared deeply about and kept me grounded for a long, long time.’ He finished.

You smiled a little. ‘You’re naturally hot headed and hard headed as well that talking to you in the same tone wouldn’t work, you needed to be talked to neutrally and calmly in hopes you’d see reason in my words. You needed someone to talk to you who had wholehearted faith in you even if the situation seems dire and bleak.’ You replied and Nero was predictably beaming.

‘See! That’s what you are to me and I don’t want you to be anything other than that person who makes me see straight, the person who has been nothing but loving and supportive in allowing me to be me without looking at me any differently and defending me when others couldn’t see past their own biases.’ He tells you as he pepper kisses across your face, making you laugh in response as you found yourself unable to escape his loving grasp and comforting warmth, not that you ever wanted to in the first place.

‘You empower me.’ Nero tells you after bombarding you with kisses, resting his head against yours, just happy and content to have you in his arms like this for the rest of his life if he was allowed such a thing to be his actual reality. ‘You stop me when I get ahead of myself but believe in me enough to let me weigh out my options during missions, never expecting me to be perfect but never allowing me to put myself down. So why wouldn’t you think I wouldn’t do the same for you?’ He then asks you.

‘I don’t want you to worry about me-‘ you tired to say but were cut off.

‘I’ll always worry.’ He retorts.

‘I didn’t think I was worth picking back up after putting myself down.’ You said as though trying to prove a point.

‘I’d never let you stay down for long, besides your deserving of being uplifted as much as I am, if not more, but just know that without you I’d struggle and be content in something that could never fulfill me in the long run like you can.’ Nero replied, kissing your eyelids and cheeks as he bundled you up against him. ‘So I don’t ever want you to downplay your effect on me because you’re human when you have done more for me than another human would be half as inclined to do tenfold.’

[sqgeism]

Hi! I hope you're doing well!

I have a bit of a specific Anaxa request: we all know this guy is prickly like a cactus, and probably wouldnt show any kind of physical affection/be overly affectionate whatsoever. maybe the reader can be lightly airing all their frustrations to an unsuspecting dromas/chimera they stumbled upon, and anaxa happens to walk right by when they say "I don't know why he feels he needs to keep me at an arm's length, in the end, all i want is to be loved; and i wish the same for him."

I just feel like that sentence would make anaxa flabberghasted and make him rethink some things.

ty for reading!!

𐙚 𓏵𓏵𓏵 𐙚 𝐬𝐚𝐲 𝐲𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧 | anaxagoras x gender neutral reader

💌 — ; as tipsy as a boat on unforgiving seas, you rant your heartaches to a cute, clueless chimera. (that weirdly looks like your boyfriend) not knowing that the very man stands behind you, listening to you pour out every feeling he'd never want to subject you to.

love mail — say yes to me. i haven't done an event in a while, would people be interested in that (*ﾟーﾟ)? sigh finally anaxagoras solo post without the other two added LMAO this guy is so popular on my account its kind of insane. thank u anaxa... for reviving sqgeism in the big 25.. i thought this was long but it's acc kind if short forgive me anonnie LMAO

for all the good moments in your relationship with anaxagoras, there were still bad. and the bad.. could get really awful very quickly.

even if he was growing to be careful, changing, being better, he still had his 'demise'— as he called it. he was set on a mission long before you, and you've accepted that. it didn't mean that it didn't hurt when you knew he was trying to keep you away, though he says it's to keep you safe, you knew it was for another reason.

anaxagoras wasn't—for all his genius as a scholar and a teacher—very good at things that involved vulnerability. it was something he'd ripped out of his cold, dead heart, leaving it whatever remaining feelings he had left to rot. clearly not enough, he'd remark, if he could still feel it beat every time you came close. fingers brushing over his own, lips getting too close for comfort, despite being together—he was still afraid. very.. very afraid.

but you weren't angry at him for being so, how could you? for all the hurt he's faced, the terrors that follow him like his shadow, you just can't. but you feel neglected, left to freeze in an unforgiving winter. you craved warmth, but no flame could thaw your loneliness.

and so when anaxagoras, once again, locks himself in his lab for aeon's know how long.. you're off. you had the control to at least leave a note where you're going; a bar close by to let loose. but you clumsily throw it on the nearest table and walk out. the tears were becoming overwhelming, and you just needed to cry. it felt cruel to be mad, but your heart knew what it wanted. it wanted someone badly, drawn to a rose with far too sharp of thorns. but you didn't care. you knew it was a part of him, and you chose him regardless. you wonder if he knows that he's loved, and how much he truly is.

and he does. in a way that overwhelms him, that makes him be the way he is. he knows you care, and that's why when he leaves his study hours earlier, the note unseen by his sharp gaze, he panics. you're not in bed, nor the living room, you're not home. thunder claps break him out of his thoughts, and he realizes you could be out there, in the rain, for who knows how long.

he runs out without hesitation.

doesn't care if he's soaking wet, or his students that may see their half-gone professor running through amphoreus in the rain, he's afraid. for once, his cowardice it isn't of the idea of you, but losing you. he's beginning to realize that there will be something worse than his fears destroying him.

it's having you slip away from his grasp.

he's afraid of affection because he might lose you. he's afraid of everything about loving you because he might lose you. he's lost so much, it scarred him. that the closest thing to paradise surely should have been an illusion, that it was all just a ploy to put him back together and break him apart all over again. he thought it was stupid, the obvious plan set by the 'gods'.

but he was just in love, so very in love. and it could never be stupid if the center of his affection was you.

and there you are, thank goodness. you're laying against an elevated tile as you're on the floor, arms on the said tile, and underneath the bars cover as a chimera sits by your head. you're clearly drunk, cause even if his heels splashed against the puddles towards you, failing to notice. gaze fixed on the little creature as he hears you speak.

"i just don't.. understand." you slurred, your face pressed against your arms as the chimera chirps. i don't know.. why" hic "he feels he needs to keep me at an arm's length.. in the end, all i want is to be loved; and i wish the same for him."

you don't even know what those words do to him. a man of many words, brought to silence. you look like a fae in the moonlight, ethereal and breathtaking. and anaxa's sopping wet in the rain, refusing to be under the bars covers as he feels he doesn't deserve it. the harsh weather prickles his skin, but he feels nothing. nothing but the cruel twist of a dagger through his heart.

he falls to his knees, the water around him makes a large splash as you turn your head. in your dazed state, your eyes don't recognize him, but your heart does. and you move without even realizing. "anaxagoras, my love?" he feels something cover his head, and he looks up to see you fussing and using your jacket to shield him from the rain. even if you were frustrated, venting about him, you still had the heart to worry. you still tried to help him, and he's such a fool to only appreciate that now. "what did i tell you about calling me that? to you, i'm anaxa. stop.. stop forgetting."

he doesn't know what to say, and he's thankful for the conditions so you don't see the way he starts to cry. his lips are trembling as his hand slowly stops yours, guiding it to his cheek and leaning into your palm. it isn't flowery words, he's bad at anything that isn't statistical or academic, but it's a gesture of something more. "i.. i'm so sorry." he muttered sorrowfully. "i've been taking you for granted. i didn't mean to, but i did. and that's unforgiveable. you don't deserve this life, and i—"

you cut him off by pulling him in, away from the world, under the shelter and into your arms. you two probably look silly, two influential figures in your own ways in amphoreus, snuggling up outside a bar in the rain. but anaxa has long discarded the idea of caring of others opinions, all he can focus on is how your heart begins to race. like you're as startled as he is. that he isn't alone in taking this leap. and for once, he's okay with that. having someone.. to truly take care of.

you wake up in bed the next morning, your head painful and your throat dry, but you're warm. and that's when you notice anaxa behind you, arms wrapped around you securely and his head partially buried in your hair. he's.. fast asleep. which is a first, you can't remember the last time he chose the bed rather than his office chair.

but you don't complain, aeon's, how could you?

you choose to fall back into the gentle hands of slumber, looking forward to waking up next to anaxa.

[rafesbuzzcutseason]

wicked game

chapter 10 - charming

synopsis: y/n is sarah’s roommate and the embodiment of sunshine. rafe, on the other hand, is her complete opposite. when the boys place a bet that he can't win her over, rafe takes the challenge without hesitation. after all, he never backs down from a dare. the closer rafe gets to y/n, he finds himself drawn to her warmth in a way he never expected, and for the first time, he wants to be more than just the guy with a bad reputation.

but secrets don’t stay hidden for long, and when y/n finds out the truth, rafe is left to face the consequences. now, he has to prove that somewhere along the way, the bet stopped mattering, because losing her was never part of the plan.

masterlist

cw: language, alcohol

it was a long, exhausting night after lucas left. you felt numb, empty, lost. but a part of you felt relief. and you felt so guilty for feeling that.

you didn't let the girls come over straight away, you wanted to deal with it yourself and process it, but you knew you needed to go out tonight to stop yourself from moping.

by the time the evening had had arrived, your chest still felt heavy, but the grief had dulled into something quieter. something you felt able to carry.

you allowed yourself to get dressed up, promising the girls you would meet them there as you just needed to take your time.

you stared at the dress hanging on the back of your chair that sarah had given to you back when you first became roommates. "wear this when you want to feel hot. trust me." she had said to you that night.

this was one of those nights.

you put it on, did a quick once over and decided it was good enough for right now.

the kappa tau house was, as always, buzzing and full of energy by the time you got there.

you found kie and cleo, who both did a quick double-take when they saw you, expressions flashing from surprise to concern to that unspoken thank god you’re here kind of relief.

"you made it,” kie said, immediately pulling you into a hug. "how are you?" she asked with sincerity.

you gave a weak smile. "ask me after drink number three."

cleo handed you a red solo cup like she’d already prepared for that answer. "you don’t have to talk about anything if you don’t want to."

"i know," you said, taking a sip. "i just want to be with my girls tonight."

"speaking of..." cleo nodded towards the corner where john b and sarah were making out. "she's been a little preoccupied."

you laughed, "so they're official huh?"

"apparently so. they're fucking whipped." kie sighed.

"she's never in our dorm anymore. always at his." you smiled softly, glad she had someone like him. "i'm happy for her." they nodded in agreement.

for a little while, it was easy. you laughed, danced, and let the negative thoughts stay hidden. but as the night went on, you felt yourself overwhelmed and in need of a break.

"i'm just gonna go get some fresh air for a bit. you guys carry on." you said to the girls.

"are you okay? do you want us to come with you?" kie rushed, always the first one to worry.

"i'm fine! i promise. just getting a bit sweaty."

"ok, but we're here for you, yeah?" cleo spoke with concern.

"i know i know. i'll be back shortly." you stepped away, slipping through the crowd in the living room and making it out to the garden. it was quieter, darker, with the slight flicker of cigarettes being lit and phone screens.

you exhaled deeply, the cool air hitting your skin like a reset button. you leaned against the wall, letting your head fall back, eyes closed, just trying to feel something besides the dull ache in your chest that comes back as soon as you're alone.

"you always sneak off during our parties?"

the voice startled you, pulling you out your trance.

"i didn’t know you were out here," you said quietly.

"didn’t know you were either. guess we both needed a break."

you glanced at rafe for a moment before returning your gaze to the backyard. "you always this good at finding people when they want to be alone?"

"not really. just tends to always be you." he shrugged, "why do you want to be alone?"

"just not really in a people mood right now."

he tilted his head slightly, watching you. "rough night?"

"lucas and i broke up." you responded bluntly.

rafe didn’t say anything at first, just nodded slowly. no told you so. no smug comment. just a shift in his expression. shock and a hint of sympathy.

"you okay?" he asked after a few minutes.

"yeah," you said finally. "i think it wasn't good for a while. he wasn't like, bad or anything. we just grew apart. it felt pretend. and that's exhausting in itself."

he didn’t push you for more. "i get that," voice softer now. "sometimes it’s easier to fake it than admit it's kinda falling apart.”

you looked over at him then, his face barely lit by the glow of the inside, his eyes steady on yours. there was no judgment there. just a weird kind of understanding.

"you always this philosophical at parties?" you let out a small laugh.

he cracked a smile. "only when i run into pretty girls in gardens."

you rolled your eyes, but your lips tugged into the faintest smile, "charming"

"you smiled," he said, "that’s gotta count for something."

"we seem to end up together at parties away from everyone else quite a lot." you said, sitting down against the wall.

"is that a problem?" he sat beside you, close but not too close.

"not really," you said after a beat, voice quieter now. "just… interesting."

he hummed in response, resting his arms on his knees, head tilted slightly like he was trying to read between the lines of your words. "maybe it’s a sign."

you looked over at him, brows raised. "a sign? for what?"

"that you secretly like my company," he said, glancing at you with the smallest smirk, but it didn’t come off cocky. "or maybe you just keep ending up in the same places i go when i’m trying to get away."

"away from what?"

"the pressure of being a frat guy."

you both burst into laughter, you swatted his shoulder, but rafe caught your hand before it could hit him. and he didn't let go. holding it before slowly brushing his hand against yours, just gently. just enough for you to decide.

you hesitated, then turned your hand over, letting your fingers curl lightly into his. it wasn’t romantic. it wasn’t even flirtatious. it was steady. grounding. quiet.

his thumb grazed your knuckles, barely there. "you’re allowed to feel relief," he said softly, his voice low and warm. "even if it hurts. even if it’s messy."

"you always like this when you’re not pretending to be an asshole?"

he let out a small laugh. "don’t tell anyone. ruins the brand."

you smiled again, this time more real.

"i'm glad i keep bumping into you." you whispered after a while.

"yeah." he replied, just as quietly. "me too."

a/n: i hate this chapter wahhhhhhh anyway how much of this is bet rafe and how much is real rafe mwahahha

🏷️: @heartzshiftamy @hoefordrewstarkey @luvrclub  @leleee3 @yktayy9669 @miumiuestmoi @anacamofficial @cokewithcameron @bloodofadoll @shorttandsweett @mysticbby2009 @emmiesummers @wintercrows @drewrry @starkeyxcameron @xxbirkindoll2 @stoned-writer @drewstarkeyslover @hannieskzzz @verycherryblossomhideout @letstryagaintomorrow @@jjsbbg7 @mariamadison6-blog @laniirackssss @xeneasworld @countryclubwhore @drewsphswife @mattyskies @moonywhisp3rs @starkeygirls @lmaolmaos @thereallifebambi @emeloyy @vcnillafairy @rafecameronswhoore @st8rkey @angeldiaryy @therealfairybatman @drewsephrry @vanessa-rafesgirl @dreamybabbyy @pogueprincesa @happy-mushrooms @hannaa20002000 @whoismxtti @darlingstarkey @mattssweetheart @wuluhwuhmaster @harringtonsbowgirl @my-name-is-baby @rrosiitas @davinashifts333@cinnamqnnlatte @fastlovela @stelleduarte @fastlovela @deeninadream @moond0llie @dylsdaily 

[kayharrisons]

In sickness and in moderate health [Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader] [1 of ?]

Bucky Barnes keeps showing up to the med bay with injuries from his missions.

Fine, no problem, it's your job to look after the team. Even though their stubborn asses keep insisting they're fine even if they've got a bullet in their ass.

But Bucky? He comes to you for even the most trivial of injuries, and you can't help but wonder why.

A/N: HELLOOOOOOO this is my first Marvel fic on this account e e p and I can only hope I do it some justice! I just saw Thunderbolts the other day and LOVED IT genuinely one of the best marvel movies in recent years!! So spoilers for that, as this lil fic is set within the 14 months between the end of the movie and the post credits scene.

Warnings: injury mentions, minor blood, Bucky being a 100 and smth year old man tryna flirt in his own way, nurse x patient (Bucky is barely a patient he's dragging his ass to the med bay purely to see reader)

Your job was a good one.

You'd sat for your interview, had aced it with a smile, you'd been hired on the damn spot near enough. You couldn't believe your luck, as you'd only just recently left your post at a small hospital downtown. Applying to be on call medical staff for the New Avengers was something you'd done on a whim, when you were up at 3am, shaking from energy drinks and doom scrolling job listings on your phone to see what would come up.

Mel was lovely enough of an interviewer. Val creeped you the fuck out with her endlessly chipper attitude.

But, hey, you were hired! Who were you to complain?

You have your own office, and an entire medical bay filled with equipment you'll probably never even need to use. There was an official doctor for the team, for more serious cases, but you were the only medical staff to permanently live in the building.

Your room is on the floor above the med bay; ensuring you quick access to the floor when you are required.

It's damn better than your old place, that's for sure. You have floor to ceiling windows, a kitchen with niche appliances that you're still figuring out, your bedroom has the damn comfiest queen sized bed ever...

Your bathroom has a fucking fancy bidet.

Go figure.

You decorate, of course, painting over the muted neutral greys with soothing blues and forest greens. You buy endless bright and comfy blankets for your couch, you fill up your space with plants that will specifically be hard as hell to kill.

Thank god your oath doesn't cover plants.

The first few weeks are quiet.

The New Avengers are still getting their act together, still finalising legalities and paperwork, all the boring stuff that no one ever talks about.

But then...

Your door slams open, and in storms Bucky Barnes, former congressman and Winter Soldier, and he's got a nervous, apologetic man trailing along after him.

Bucky is a lot taller in person. Maybe it's because you're sitting down? Either way...

Damn.

"You're our live in nurse, right?" he queries, snapping you to attention.

"Yeah. What's the problem-?"

"This one here thought it would be a swell idea to learn to cook and almost cut my other arm off because of it.

You blink, glancing to the dark haired, dark eyed man stood beside Bucky. You know all the team members, mostly, but this one is a little murky to you.

"I was trying to filet a steak-"

"The why is still lost on me, just like my right arm almost was." Bucky deadpans, giving him a flat look.

The other man sighs, and waves a hand at you. "I'm Bob." he introduces, smiling politely.

You return the smile, before turning to Bucky and gesturing to the examination bed. "Well, hop on up, Congressman Barnes."

He groans, scrunching his face up. "Not anymore, ma'am. Just Bucky is fine."

Ma'am.

It's silly how such a polite, downright respectful term makes you feel all warm in the face.

"I feel really bad, Bucky," Bob frowns, wringing his hands together. "I didn't expect the knife to just slide right off of me and go right into-"

"S'fine, Bob. Who doesn't forget their own invincibility from time to time?" Bucky hums, smiling almost... fondly at the other man.

"...invincibility?" you query, looking to Bob, the most damn normal person you've ever seen in your life. You reach into the box by the exam bed, pulling on a pair of latex gloves.

He blinks wide eyes at you, before smiling a sheepish grin. "Lab experiments, you know how it is... or, well, you don't. Of course you don't. Bucky does, though-"

"Yeah, yup, we're all aware of that much, Bob."

"...sorry."

Bucky just grunts, eyes flickering to your face as your fingers start to gently unpeel the makeshift towel bandage from his arm.

"Is that MUSCLE-?"

"No." Both you and Bucky say in unison, a wry smile being exchanged between you both at that.

"Just a lot of blood," you hum, tentatively wiping at the area with antiseptic and cotton balls. Bucky, to his credit, doesn't even flinch. "I don't think you'll need stitches, Bucky-"

"Never do," he shrugs, the fingers of his left arm flexing absentmindedly on his lap. "Serum. Makes me heal a lot faster than the average Joe."

You ahh in realisation, still cleaning at the wound. It's a clean enough injury, no long lasting damage, and nowhere near deep enough for stitches.

"Well, you'll live, Barnes," you say, lips twitching as you prep gauze and bandages. "You're just a bleeder, it seems."

"Damn. Thought that info would be all over my medical files. Hydra loved making note of fun little details like that. Along with things like reacts negatively to electrical shock therapy."

A beat of horrified silence that Bucky doesn't seem to register.

"...dude." comes Bob's horrified little whisper, which snaps you out of your own horrified stupor.

"What? Too much?" Bucky asks, raising a brow. "Not like it's not all over the internet and in my medical files. Never read a news article, Bob?"

"Leave him alone, Bucky-"

"You know I was on meth during that time-!"

Your eyes snap to sweet, normal looking Bob at that one. Your fingers pressing gauze against Bucky's cut and your eyes wide.

"...I don't know if you've read my file yet but um... that is mentioned." Bob smiles, awkwardly, before pointing to the door. "I'm just- I'm gonna- yeah. Was nice meeting you, and Bucky I'm still sorry about the arm-"

"I keep telling you, it's fine. Just... for the love of god, watch where your knife is aimed when you're cutting."

Bob gives you both a thumbs up before backing out of the room, the door swinging shut behind him.

"...well he seems nice."

"Yeah, he is. It's like working with a puppy-"

"I can totally see that-"

"Not a cute one. Like one of those ones you see in those depressing ads on tv."

"Oh."

A beat of silence, as you start wrapping the bandage around his arm to cover the gauze.

His arm is incredibly-

No.

Bad!

Unprofessional.

"...so um... how's the uh... team so far?" you almost cringe at how awkward the words come out, and Bucky's lips turn up a touch at the corners.

"They're a bunch of assholes," he informs you, bluntly. "Walker's about five seconds away from me shooting him most days. Ava keeps walking through walls instead of using doors. Alexei won't shut the hell up about marketing opportunities. And Bob and Yelena together are worse than two little girls in a school yard, honestly."

"Scathing," you whistle, smile a little disbelieving as you tighten the bandage. "You the poor normal fella on the team, then?"

He barks out a laugh, smile widening into something genuine. "Nah," he chuckles, sliding off the examination bed once you're done and happy with how tight the bandage is. "I'm the worst of the bunch. Just got more experience hiding it."

"Ah, right, the whole being born before sliced bread thing."

"Hey," Bucky tuts, cocking his head. "That was a game changer when it was introduced. Ma went wild for it."

You gape at him, he grins at you like he's the damn Cheshire Cat.

You'd been kidding.

"1930," Bucky supplies, shoving his hands in his pockets as he saunters to the door. "Sliced bread hit the market in 1930, when I was 13."

You're still gaping after him, to his amusement.

"Thanks, doll, for fixing me up," he hums, glancing to his arm, then back at you. "Can't promise it won't happen again, knowing this damn team."

It's said fondly, almost.

Almost.

"Well, I'd better head. Dinner plans and all, apparently. I think Walker might just end up ordering food in, though. We all suck at cooking. See you around, ma'am."

And with that, he's gone, the door clicking shut behind him.

You have a form to fill out, to document the injury and file away.

But you linger there, staring after James Buchanan Barnes, former congressman and Winter Soldier.

...sliced bread, huh?

[e-therealife]

gf!nat headcanons

type of person to show up at your house without calling first. she figures if you're not there, she's interested as to why and is now gonna wait until you are. probably inside your room within thirty seconds flat. second story? doesn't matter. idk man she's finding a way to scale walls.

probably also jumps out to scare you when you come back.

if you have work or some obligation that you don't wanna go to, she's suddenly trying out everything possible to keep you home/get you to go out with her.

"look, we can totally fake a funeral obituary. someone'll cover your shift for that. now sit down. we've gotta figure out how i tragically died." “you're telling me [literally any food you love] doesn't sound good right now? i'll buy.” doesn't even matter if she hates the food because she just needs to keep you focused on her and doesn't want you to be stressed out about 'stupid stuff.'

rummages through your closet when she's over and tries on your clothes like it's a fashion show. definitely imitates you when she does it.

"no, you totally sound like that. i'd know."

she's sleeping in her makeup all the time. also in her clothes from the day. when you guys start spending nights together, you're wiping her makeup off for her and helping her change. soon, you swear she's wearing makeup and uncomfortable clothes more often just so you'll help her (she is), but she'd never admit to it.

not the best with physical affection, so she's always trying to get you to get sleepy first so you're cuddling up to her or so she can cuddle up to you once you fall asleep.

when you wake up in the morning, she's usually already awake, likely out buying you some really greasy or sweet breakfast. if she's still sleeping when you wake up, she will die on the hill that you were the one who was being all cuddly (despite her being literally on top of you).

tries to show you soccer tricks then fucking trips over her feet and falls on her face.

"watch this," ends up being the funniest phrase you hear from her. she's not even giving up after one attempt, especially if she's not sober.

"you didn't see that."  "what are you talking about?"  "you clearly don't even know how it's supposed to look."

late to/skips class a lot, but if you let her know you're gonna be absent and need notes, she'll be there the entire time, taking everything down so attentively. she's shushing whoever tries to talk to her. 

willing to slip into classes she's not even in. jotting down everything because she doesn't know wtf is going on.

you're potentially banned from soccer games by the team because nat gets too nervous and messes up in front of you.

alright i don't smoke but i read this thing about shotgunning and oh my GOD??? YES she's doing that if you smoke. where are fics with this because hello?

probably tries to keep you away from drinking or smoking if you haven't started yet, though.

would looove roadtrips. also so a one hand on the wheel and the other on your thigh person.

loves seeing you without makeup, especially if you wear it a lot. absolutely encourages you to do whatever makes you happy and loves seeing you express yourself, but she finds little moments where you're sleeping or something all barefaced so soft. she needs you to know you can be comfortable around her.

however, if you are wearing makeup, she loves those lipstick marks a kiss can leave. or if your makeup gets messy (somehow…).

modern au

she's the type of person to send like stupid cat tiktoks and be like "this is u." also says the same thing with the most ridiculous videos of people doing stupid shit.

she's ragequitting video games left and right. if you're playing together and she dies over something stupid (ESPECIALLY if she's killed by an annoying kid or something) you just hear her mic go silent as she mutes it and curses for a minute.

if someone's fighting with her in chat she's forgotten about the game entirely and you can hear her speedtyping angrily.

if you're there in person while she's playing (which she's only doing this if you actively wanna watch. she'd never ignore you to play a game.), you get to see her start swearing at her screen (her accent def comes out for this.).

"are you fuckin' fucking with me? how is this not patched?"  "did i seriously pay for this shit?" "and he's not banned? i can't call someone a prick, and he's not banned?"  "he's hacking. i know it." “aimbot.”

also if someone's making fun of you on a game (even if you suck) she's forgetting about winning and just screwing with them the entire time instead. will sacrifice getting reported for throwing to avenge you.

definitely knows like all internet jokes so she's practically speaking in another language sometimes.

SHARING HEADPHONES and she's only using wired. rejects bluetooth. embraces it when her wires get caught on everything.

author's note: alright friends. this is my first tumblr post ever. let me know if you liked it, and feel free to chat with me! i'm pretty new to tumblr lol so i really don't know what i'm doing. i've got more stuff i'm working on right now and i'm done with finals in a week sooo stay tuned for more posts!

[writer-of-fandoms-4321]

Danny really hoped he'd be left alone, he'd chosen Jump City University. And was back in Amity collecting his belongings, mostly just his clothes,e and a few other small things to personalize a dorm room. Vlad had offered to pay a large amount of money towards his education, and Danny had seen no fault in avoiding student debt. That, and an Vlad had majorly chilled out since Danny had settle the entire 'half ghost' issue with his parent and the Guys in White had been disbanded.

And with Danny's rogue's attacking on a schedule that Danny could follow, and was respectful of his schedule, he had been able to get his grads up from barely passing to star student. Even joining the track team and becoming an excellent long distance runner.

But yes, Danny had been hoping to be left alone, more than that, he was hoping that he wouldn't be traced to his home in Amity.

Alas, his DNA Doner seemed to take an interest in his personal life.

He had been walking in the park, Sam and Tucker nodding alone with a debate that Danny had been having with Valerie about the moral ethics behind the beef industry in the US. Danny paused, the air was too still, the exact type of still that signified he was being watched.

He sighed. "You guys go ahead, I'll catch up."

Valerie smirked.

"Aw is ghost boy's ego bruised?"

Danny sighed, his voice eerily still when he spoke again.

"Just go." he muttered, his friends, thankfully go the hint.

THe momewnt they dissapeared into Nasty burger, Danny turned, his eyes narrowed.

"What part about stay 100 miles away from my family do you not understand?" he snarled, Talia's face remained impassive.

"I thought you of all people would understand that Al Ghul's don't ask for permission-"

"They take." Danny growled, shoving his hands into his pockets. "What do you want Taila." he demanded, his mind already calculating how fast it would take for a sword to fly fast enough to catch her off guard.

"Can't a mother talk to her son?" Talia purred, arching and eyebrow. "You made something of yourself."

Years of living with Jazz as she worked on her psycology degree gave Danny and edge. Talia was pretending that everything was in her control, well then, Danny would play along.

"Yeah," he scoffed, turning to leave. "No thanks to you, now leave."

"Your friends won't survive the night if you don't hear me out." Talia threatened, holding up a detonator. Danny had seen plenty active to know the difference between a fake and the real deal. And this was the real deal.

"If you hurt them-" he finally growled, his eyes glowing dangerously. THe urge to burn her with ectoplams rose sharply in his chest, his core fluxuating furiously.

"Weakness is unacceptable Danyal. You shouldn't have let yourself get attached." Talia tutted, walking until she was right in front of him, and began to circle him. "You certainly didn't keep up on league training." she muttered.

Danny took a breath,and willed his body to relax, tense muscles were easy to read.

"Had no need to, wasn't being told to kill grown men because they were in our way."

"Hm, well that will change."

danny began to bristle again, his ecto signature flaring and his core began to snarl within his chest.

"I will never do anything for you you-"

"Ah, ah ah," Talia tutted lightly, as if scolding a misbehaving child. "You will if you want your friends to live."

Danny felt a wave of helplessness wash over him, it was like that day in the market all over again, blood standing his shoes, and Talia making him find his own way back.

"Just, leave them alone." he finally muttered. "Leave them alone and I'll do what you want."

Talia's eyebrows shot up.

"that easily, now Danyal, I know I didn't raise you to be weak."

"You didn't raise him at all you bitch!" A voice shrieked, and a blast of heated ectoplasm forced Talia to drop the remote, which Danny snatched up, quickly pressing the disarm button, his friends at his point, were rushing out of nasty burger. Ellie stood, Jazz and Dante beside her, a Fenton blaster in hand. Danny felt a smirk creep on his face as Talia stared at his clone perturbed.

"Oh, didn't you know, I have a clone, hi Ellie!" Ellie glided to stand by her template. Glaring down Talia as if that would undo the anxiety of the conversation. Dante was sneering, his eyes flashing dangerously.

"Step away from the Twink, he might've had the gut to kill ,but I do."

Danny let a rush of air leave his lungs as Talia realizing that she was outmatched, left, not before staring at him, something dangerously close to an obsession depreivation gleaming in her eyes.

"Danny who was that-" Sam asked as soon as Talia was gone.

"...No one important." __________________________________________

Talia stared at her boy from the tree.

He had done it again.

'No one important.'

she had given birth to the boy, cared for him when she could've left him for dead she had taught him to be great.

And this was the thanks she got.

No.

He father had given orders for Danyal to be retrieved and returned to his family, his true family, the Al Ghuls.

Her boy would be back.

Because he was her son.

Hers

Hers

Hers

And no strange red-haried woman would stop her from her family.

Danny and Damian are related, with a twist.

Danny is the son of Talia Al Ghul, however he is NOT the son of Bruce Wayne. Ra’s has had his eyes on various people across the world that have either impressed him or show a unique skill set that he’d like to have. One such person was under the both categories and he got Talia to collect a DNA sample and as a result Danny was born.

This was before Bruce’s time with the League by a few years, but very quickly Danny was not meeting expectations. And by the time Bruce did show up Ra’s had lost all interest in Danny, moving on to better things.

Talia always hated Danny because she was forced to have him with a man who she never liked in the first place. Furthermore, because his skillset was lacking she found that even more reason for her distain. In her eyes, he wasn’t worth even considering her blood.

Danny, knowing that he was doomed if he didn’t make an escape, left the league sometime around when Bruce was moving up the ranks and was making waves within the organization. Perfect timing honestly, any attention he might have had was quickly gone when this prodigy showed up.

Danny escaped the League and went into hiding quickly after, settling on a rural area of the United States after bouncing around countries for a few months. This was mainly because Jasmine Fenton saw a young boy pick pocketing strangers while her family was visiting Chicago and scolded him. Her mother and father saw the boy and also lectured him to which Danny responded it was his only option (he was trying to get this loud family off his back so he could sneak away). Eventually the Fentons decide that if he has nowhere to go he might as well go with us, and Danny decides blending in with a Nuclear Family is the best way to ensure that his peaceful life away from the League stays that way. Oh how little did he know.

Flash forward a few years, Talia, who was visiting Gotham to check on Damian, sees a glimpse of a boy (now man) she thought she had forgotten. Her blood runs cold, if this abomination is in Gotham then her son is likely in danger and she would never let anything happen to Damian.

[ruinix]

can dark quinn fuck reader while she's asleep?

Lovely, hey there. So. Um.. dark!quinn...just a lil thot, okay? 😶‍🌫️🫣 First, lil confession, I wanna be claimed just like that y'know. Yes, I am a whore. Anyway...this is more of a ramble. My head is a mess. Also...don't ask if it's gotten too long. This did not happen.

Don't come for me. This is truly dark. You've been warned.

Whore thoughts. Dark. Deranged behavior. Somnophilia. Non-con. Drugging. Manipulation. This is dark, y'all. Dark. Dark!!! ⬇️⬇️⬇️

You were always a heavy sleeper. Sure, you had troubles sleeping, but once you were out, you were out. Quinn knew that. He would be a bad boyfriend if he didn't.

Afterall, he was the one who always woke up first for his early practice, the one who tried to pry your vice-like grip every time, the one who tried banging the cabinets during the morning to make sure, to constantly test your sleep. The one who touched your pussy through your panties until your arousal slicked it, until soft moans escaped your lips.

Then came the problem. You would rouse, stirring then slowly wake up, before he could make you come, before he can further his debauchery. Fucking always.

You would be so confused, too sleep drunk, too innocent that you would just assume Quinn's cuddling you.

Even for so long, you never put two and two together. Not a clue with his touches. With his lack of care that he never asked for your consent through these acts. Well, why would he need such a thing when he owned you? Every single fiber of your being was his.

Your body that could no longer reach the heights of an orgasm without his touch. The amount of times you came running towards him with tears of frustration in your eyes because no matter what you do--no matter what toy or technique--you couldn't come. The amount of times you called him whining while he was on a road trip because you got so horny yet you couldn't do a single fucking thing to help yourself.

Your mind that couldn't choose anything for yourself. Always seeking his opinion. Before, you would just go out with your friends whenever you like. Now, you preferred staying home just because Quinn planted seeds of doubt about your friends not being good for you, about them only using you because of how sweet you were, which were all not false. They were using you to get to him. You were so naive to see through their elaborate trap, so Quinn easily manipulated the circumstances that you had to break off the friendships. You didn't need them anyway. Not when you have him.

Not all of your friends were using you though. Some were good. Too good, too fucking nosy, trying to get you to see how twisted he was. Quinn can't have that so he got rid of them too. Threats. Blackmail. He did it all, making you think they just dropped you, which made you all the more needy for his company.

Your soul that sang with his. So bright and innocent when you stared at hum like he hung the moon. So adorable when he fucked you so hard that he left you sore for days with bruises painting your neck, your hips, your thighs, and everywhere else. Still, you looked at him with heart-shaped eyes.

You've been such a perfect girl to love, fuck, and manipulate. So perfect, really. Except you kept waking up when it was about to be more interesting. When he was about to consume you in a different fucking level. When all he wanted was for you to come around him while you were still in dream-fucking-land. Was that too much of an ask?

So Quinn moved.

He took his time researching things that would keep you asleep. He acted like a damned insomniac, going to a shrink and telling him he needed something to help him sleep, expertly twisting the truth, emphasizing he needed something to get him to sleep throughout the night. It was so easy. One trip to the pharmacy, he got his prescription along with bottles of melatonin and magnesium.

Getting you to drink the supplements was simple. Your eyes were twinkling as you take it as him being concerned with you. You happily take them. No questions. Not a single doubt or concern. You just take and take. Everything he gave you.

Quinn was always patient. Always bidding his time. He won't use his supposed prescription yet. Touching and testing if the supplements were enough. They were not. Therefore, he used them, telling you he saw a better additional supplement.

He waited and waited for your protest, even a question on what the fuck it is because one would normally ask, but alas, you said:

"Okay."

Then you grinned at him with such innocence that Quinn wondered how on earth did you survive this cruel world. No matter. He was here to keep you safe from anything else but him. He loved the pureness you offer. So pure that he must corrupt.

He watched. Within minutes, you were out like a light. Your body was in a supine position under the blankets, your chest moving with your every breath. Like a princess. His very own sleeping beauty.

One tug, the sheets were off. He could see the goosebumps on your skin, your nipples hardening under your silk night gown. He ran his hands over your thighs, spreading them, pushing the fabric up and up and up, exposing your lace panties. Slowly, he touches your clothed pussy, feeling along your folds, teasing your clit down to your entrance and back up.

Soft. You were so soft and getting so drenched. The need to smell you overtook him, not giving a shit anymore if the drug would actually keep you asleep. He just hooked one thigh over his shoulder, pressing his nose on your pussy and smelled you feminine musk. So divine as he started to lick over the lace.

Just one taste and he lost it. Like a feral beast who had not eaten for days, he licked and sucked and nipped, almost laughing as he heard your little whines, preening at how your hips jerked so slightly. Then he stared right at your face, waiting for you to wake but you didn't. Fuck yes.

He could barely think straight anymore. He tore your panties, slapping his cock against your quivering pussy, rubbing himself on you until he was coated by your arousal as his pre-cum dripped down his length. The way your thighs twitched, your eyebrows frowning, your barely there 'hmmm'. Everything etched in his brain. As he slowly sank his cock into your pulsing heat.

He fucked you slowly. Every thrust was full and deep. Your tits moved, bouncing, luring him in for a taste, so he indulged. Using his teeth to tug the neckline of your nightgown then he sucked your pebbled peak. One by one. he could feel your walls spasming for a mini orgasm. So adorable.

Your troubled moans filled his brain. He could basically feel your body trying to wake up, could feel the dream your mind was showing you. He was also fucking you in your dream, wasn't he? How hard was he going? Were the pathetic sounds coming out of you supposed to be your pleas to fuck you harder?

He supposed they were. What else could they be? You were always such a slut. It must be maddening for you not to get what you wanted.

"I know, my love. I know," he whispered in your ear, groaning when your pussy squeezed so tight around him that he almost came. "Let's take our time, okay? Fuck. We got the whole night."

It didn't matter to Quinn if he had to wake up for a morning skate. He would take his fucking time. He was already so fucking confident that his team would win. They always seemed to win whenever he touched you during your sleep. Now that he was fucking you, maybe it could be an easy victory. Fuck, he hoped it would be. Even if they lose, there was no way he wouldn't do this again.

Languidly, his rolled his hips as his hands gripped your hips wider, opening you up.

Then he started to get rougher. His hips bucking into you to claim you brutally. He wanted you to be so confused why you're so sore in the morning, wanted you to feel so horrified about the new kiss marks he was leaving all over your chest, your collarbone, your neck. He wanted to see you panic when you see the handprint bruises on your thighs.

Those images of you all rattled and horrified filled his mind. He couldn't stop smiling as he pressed down your lower abdomen, his thumb softly rubbing circles around your clit until you come so hard, your lips parting, yet you didn't wake up. He kept whispering praises into your ear, chuckling at the little sniffles coming out of you because he wouldn't stop his thrusts, wouldn't stop playing with your sensitive clit.

"Give me another one, my Love. Just one. Then we'll stop," he teased into your lips, kissing you without care even if you didn't kiss back. It was exactly how he wanted. Just you in the palm of his hands. Just you being fucked by him because he could. Just like his very own sex toy. "I promise."

He lied and lied and lied.

He wouldn't stop.

Why would he?

He could only grip your skin, short nails digging into your tender flesh. When you came again, he did too, spurting deep into your pussy, kissing and licking your neck, praising you over and over again. He took his time to recover. Then he would do again and again. The same fucking lie would escape his lips.

His sweat would drip down your sweaty body. His cum would be pooling under your ass. Your pussy would be red and raw from overuse. Your skin would be marked by bruises already darkening, reddening. He would be so greedy at the sight of you not waking up. Totally under his mercy. The night wouldn't be over yet he was already planning the next time to do this.

He tried to stop at least. He was getting too exhausted after a couple of hours of partaking you. Hell, he almost fainted after he came so hard, but he couldn't. He needed more and more. He could only turn you both sideways, lazily fucking into you. His cum would already become too watery, too diluted, too spent.

He would only stop when he could no longer give you anything. Still, he couldn't be satiated. He would crawl down your body to start cleaning you with his tongue. Tasting the mix of your cum and his. Smelling what he has done. It was all so divine.

He did his best with the clean up. He replaced your nightgown and panties, wiped away the sweat. Even managed to change the fucking sheets with his shaky legs.

After tucking you in with his arms around you, he passed out. Only to wake up the next fucking hour. It was time to fucking work. Work he did, grinning and laughing to himself when you called midday, sobbing because your body fucking ached.

Sorry. This is nothing but a figment of your imagination, i fear. I didn't write this. The parasites in my head did. They were having a protest because I was reading an extremely wholesome romance fantasy book. They needed something dark so they took over my keyboard. 🤧😔

-> more thoughts? List.

[rosierin]

i used to love him | suna rintarou

synopsis; (y/n) talks about her feelings towards suna, from childhood to current day.

suna's pov here

this fic is part of the off-season quartet™ series! for more, click here :)

I used to love him.

Not in a way you plan for. It just sort of… happened.

It was cute, honestly. Innocent. Simple. The kind of thing people call puppy love. At least, that’s how I’ve always seen it. Loving him came as easily as breathing, or blinking. It was quiet but constant—something that made the world feel a little brighter. Something worth waking up for. A little secret joy that sat behind everything else, like music playing faintly in the background of a really good day.

I think it started when we were around ten, in elementary school.

We were kids who got along without even trying. The ones who sat in the corner at birthday parties, trading sweets instead of dancing. The kind that didn't need to fit into larger friend groups. We were happy so long as we had each other, perfectly content as just a little duo.

Rin didn’t talk much—still doesn’t, actually.

He was my opposite in every way.

Quiet. Aloof. A little standoffish. I’m pretty sure people called him “the weird kid,” which—yeah, he kind of was. He never really made the effort to make friends. Usually ate alone during lunch. Would rather work solo than in group projects.

I don’t really know why I approached him first… I guess I must’ve found him mysterious or something. Like maybe he was just pretending not to care, and I wanted to see if I could crack it.

I still remember our first proper conversation.

We were sitting next to each other during lunch, and I noticed Pokémon Platinum poking out of his backpack. I’m pretty sure I went into a full-on tangent that day, rambling about how Sinnoh was my favourite region and which Pokémon were criminally underrated.

I always laugh when I think about it. He must’ve been like, “Who the hell is this nutcase and why is she all up in my face?”

But I mean—he couldn't have been that bothered since he sat through the whole thing. Nodded along. Never looked away. Even at the time, I remember being weirdly struck by how good he was at eye contact.

He couldn’t have been that shy, then, I thought.

And clearly he wasn’t as anti-social as everyone said, because after that? We were inseparable. I’m not sure how it happened—though I’m almost certain I planned it—but before long I was going to his house nearly every weekend. We’d play DS together. Have sleepovers. We'd even share a bed.

He wasn’t chatty like me. But that never bothered me. I was more than happy to do enough talking for the both of us. I think even as a kid, I liked his silence. It meant I could ramble about whatever I wanted without worrying if I was being too much.

Rin never made me feel like I was too much.

Never told me to be quiet. Never told me to go away.

And somehow, despite being nothing like me, Rin quickly became my favourite person.

I remember sitting by the school gates before class, tracing patterns into my shoelaces while I waited for him.

Even if he was late.

Especially if he was late.

Even when he was sick, I’d wait for at least an hour, just in case he'd show up. (I sound kinda crazy now that I say it out loud.)

I always gave him the green highlighter. I think I told him it didn’t suit me. Told him it matched his eyes. (It did. I've always like his pretty eyes.)

Everyone called us a duo. Not in a weird way—more like we just made sense together. Wherever one of us went, people expected the other.

And honestly? I liked that.

I liked when teachers asked, “Where’s (y/n)?” or “Where’s Rin?” whenever one of us was missing.

I liked being his other half. Loved being his person.

And maybe that’s where it all started.

In the little things. The small, unnoticed spaces where love begins to grow—before you even have the words for it.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

I think I really knew when we were around thirteen, in middle school.

I started getting nervous around him—even though I never had before. And for the stupidest reasons, too.

My hands got all fidgety and clammy when we talked. My words jumbled. I noticed how close we sat. I noticed the way our hands brushed when we walked side by side. The way his arm felt warm when it pressed against mine during class. I noticed how much I noticed.

Rin's always been big on eye contact when he talks. It’s something I love now. But at thirteen? It was terrifying. I used to look away when he held my gaze too long, like I was going to combust or something.

It was that kind of crush. The teen rom-com kind. The hair-twirling, feet-kicking, doodling-his-name-in-your-notebook kinda love. Sweet, harmless, a little naïve.

I remember doing some pretty cringe stuff. Like trying to mould myself into his exact type.

If he complimented another girl’s outfit, you better believe I’d show up the next week wearing something eerily similar. Oh—he liked a certain perfume? I ordered it off Amazon that same night.

There was even this one time he mentioned he liked the “sporty girl” archetype in anime. And after that, I wore a ponytail. Every single day. No exceptions. Sometimes I’d even throw on a dad cap on weekends, just to really play the part.

It was embarrassing, honestly. And so painfully obvious. (Even though thirteen-year-old me probably thought I was being subtle.)

And yet, Rin never said a thing. Nothing changed. He never pulled away... but he never leaned closer, either.

I’m almost certain he knew. He had to know. I guess he just didn’t see me that way. Which was totally fine, for the record. No pressure. So I kept smiling. Kept laughing at his jokes. Kept pretending I wasn’t in love with him.

And for the most part? That was fine by me.

I was content loving him quietly. Just appreciating his company. Daydreaming in secret. Hoping, a little—but mostly just accepting whatever it was we had going on.

And eventually… it started to fade.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

We started high school at fifteen. Same school, of course.

Choosing a high school was, at the time, the most stressful decision of my life. I genuinely thought if I made the wrong choice, I’d ruin everything. Like, full meltdown. I cried twice and made it everyone's problem.

(Spoiler alert: it wasn’t that deep.)

I considered just staying local. The town school was fine. Definitely the safer and easier option. But then Rin got scouted by Inarizaki’s volleyball coach, and that was it for me. End of story. Because going to a different school than Rin?

No way. That was... unequivocally, out of the question.

Going to a different school than him wasn’t just unappealing—it was impossible. I’d told him back in middle school that I’d follow him wherever he went, and I meant it. (I don’t think he believed me at the time, but he should’ve known better.)

My parents weren’t too fussed about it. In fact, when I mentioned Rin was going too, they were relieved and said something like, “ Well if Rin’s there, we know you’ll be fine.” Which… fair enough. They trusted him almost as much as I did.

Still, moving to a new region, staying in dorms, living away from home for the first time? It was a lot. I was excited, but also terrified. Everything was new and unfamiliar—new teachers, new routines, new slang I had to Google in secret.

But Rin was still Rin.

Still my person. Still the one I sat next to during orientation. Still the one I went to when I got homesick.

We weren’t just fine. We were solid.

We had different classes, sure. Different schedules at times. But it didn’t matter. We still ate lunch together. Walked back to the dorms together. Watched anime on his laptop together. Nothing between us had really changed. And that alone made everything else feel manageable.

It wasn’t long before I started watching him play.

Volleyball had always looked good on him. His movements were sharp, calculated and effortless. Watching him on the court made me feel oddly proud, even though I had nothing to do with it.

Eventually, I asked to meet the team. I always saw them after practice so I figured, why not? He agreed, of course. Told me they were all "pretty cool".

That’s when I met the Miya twins.

And honestly? My first impression? Pretty 50/50.

I'll let you guess which twin was my favourite.

(Spoiler alert: it wasn't Atsumu.)

Atsumu was loud, cocky, and honestly a little insufferable. He was your typical jock. A frat boy in the making. At least that's what my initial thoughts were. I'd later realize he's far too much of a softie for that kind of debaucherous lifestyle and actually cares about his education.

Osamu, on the other hand, was far easier to talk to. Calmer. Less... in your face. He still teased and was competitive like his brother, but he was a lot more grounded and mature. He actually listened when people spoke. He was a little more serious. A little more thoughtful.

He reminded me of Rin in some ways—same sense of humour, similar "vibe"—but I could tell he was just as hot-blooded than his twin, just better at hiding it.

I liked him straight away.

But Rin? Rin was still the one I looked for.

Still the one I cheered for during practice.

Still the one who made everything feel like home.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

By the time we were sixteen, something shifted.

It didn't hit me all at once. Nothing like that. No sudden realisation. It was... more of a slow build.

I think it started when I stopped waiting for him after class. Not because I didn’t want to—but because he stopped expecting me to, I think. We were older now, and maybe I just didn’t know how to ask if he still wanted me there. I think a small part of me was afraid he'd find be overbearing.

So… I found new people to walk with. I sat with the twins more often. Got to know them more. I found out Osamu was a massive foodie and a true sweetheart, and that Atsumu was actually just a massive poser—a big, fat jerk, yes, but one with a big heart for those in his circle. A circle I had somehow managed to weave myself into.

I was starting to learn how to hold my own in a school that didn’t revolve around Rin.

And it wasn’t about replacing him. Oh no—definitely not that.

He was still my safe place. Still the person who knew me best.

But I was starting to feel like… maybe I could be my own person too. I’d always been more of a social butterfly, but ever since I met Rin, my circle had mostly revolved around him. So making new friends felt really nice—refreshing, even.

I got close to the Miya twins pretty fast—faster than Rin did, actually. They were impossible to ignore. Loud, chaotic, but strangely grounding in their own way. Osamu was calm and dependable, with a wicked sense of humour once you earned it. We had our own inside jokes now—mostly at his brother’s expense.

Speaking of the latter—

Things got... strange between us. Well—not strange. But at some point, our bickering didn’t feel like bickering anymore. It felt like something suspiciously close to flirting. He started it, of course.

He was so not my type. Funnily enough, if I had to pick one of the two, it’d be Osamu. So imagine my confusion when I started to realize I had feelings for Atsumu.

I think it’s because he challenged me. Pushed my buttons. Pulled things out of me I didn’t know were there. He made me raise my voice. Made me dig my heels in. Made me fight for my space in a way that was oddly exhilarating.

We were fire and fire. Burned too bright on some days, but we always came back.

He was never quiet like Rin. Never still. Never easy.

But with Atsumu, I didn’t feel like I had to wait.

And maybe that was easier than reaching for someone who never reached back.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

We were seventeen when I realized I wasn’t in love with Rin anymore.

And it didn’t break me. It didn't make me feel particularly sad.

It just… passed. Quietly. Like something I’d outgrown. Like a sweater that didn’t quite fit the same, no matter how much you used to love it.

I still loved him, of course. I don’t think that part ever changed. But it wasn’t the breathless, giddy, daydreamy kind of love anymore. My love had settled into something softer. Like nostalgia. Like home.

Or at least… that’s what I told myself.

We were eighteen when the four of us moved in together. It felt like a natural next step—me, the twins, and Rin. Like starting a new chapter of a story we were all co-writing.

And then came New Year’s Eve.

Rin's house was quiet. The twins were back in Hyōgo. His parents were out. We were alone in his room, lights off, movie forgotten, fireworks going off in the distance like the climax of some cheesy shōjo anime.

And then… he kissed me.

No warning. No build-up. Just—one second we were sitting side by side, and the next, his mouth was on mine.

And I froze. Not because I didn’t want it. Just… because I didn’t understand it.

Because for one awful, beautiful second, it felt like everything came rushing back. Like my feelings had been waiting. Like they’d never really gone away at all.

I kissed him back. I kissed him like I’d always wanted to.

My hands in his hair. Chest pressed to his. His breath in my mouth.

And then his hands slid to my waist. He climbed on top of me. And I let him. I let him kiss me harder. Let him touch me. Let myself get swept up in it—drunk on him. On the weight of his body. The way he whispered my name. The way he called me beautiful like I was truly his to admire.

I think I was panting his name by then. I think I forgot how to think.

And somewhere in the middle of all of that—that’s when the confusion hit.

Because I didn’t know what I was feeling. Didn’t know what he was feeling.

What made him do it? Why now?

Surely not love. He’d never hinted at anything like that before. He’d never looked at me like that. Never touched me like someone who’d been waiting.

So was it lust?

And if it was… That stung. More than I thought it would.

I didn’t feel it that night, though. Not right away. That hurt only came later—once the adrenaline wore off. Once I was lying awake and remembering every second. Every sigh. Every touch.

But in the moment?

I was too busy getting lost in him. Too busy writhing beneath him. Too busy hoping—just for a second—that maybe I was wrong. Maybe it did mean something.

And then I panicked.

Because it was too fast. Too much. Too not us.

And I knew—deep in my gut—that this couldn’t be the way our story played out.

I didn’t want to be a one-night thing for him.

Didn’t want to ruin what we had just because my heart got caught in the crossfire of something he didn’t mean.

So I pulled away.

Didn’t say a word. Just let the moment pass.

And we never talked about it again.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

I thought maybe he regretted it.

Or maybe he just didn’t care.

Or maybe I’d imagined the whole thing meant more than it did.

It didn't help that he never brought it up. Not once. Still, he never looked at me any differently. But he never asked if I was okay, either.

And yeah… maybe that hurt a little.

Was it embarrassment? Was I a mistake? Was it just lust, some throwaway moment he didn’t want to acknowledge?

I didn’t know. Still don’t.

So I let it go. Buried it deep. Filed it away in that part of my brain labeled: “Don’t think about this unless you want to overthink yourself into insanity.”

I decided to move forward. I started laughing more. Smiling wider. Let myself lean into other people.

I grew closer to Atsumu—not to replace something I lost, but because he was there. Steady in his own chaotic, big-hearted way.

He made me laugh. Gave me hell. Challenged me. Made me feel seen. With him, I never had to guess. Never had to read between the lines or sit with questions I wasn’t brave enough to ask.

(Or at least, that’s what I thought at the time. But that’s a whole other can of worms.)

Sometimes—just sometimes—that night still comes back to me.

His hands. His breath. The way he said my name like it meant something.

And I still don’t know how to feel about it.

It’s probably nothing.

It’s all in the past.

And there's nothing weird about it.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

We were nineteen when I started realizing how little I thought about Rin in that way anymore. Like—actually, this time.

Not because I didn’t care. I still care—very much so. I guess I just... stopped expecting anything to happen entirely.

He was still Rin. Still steady. Still there. Still my best friend who I deeply cherish and always will.

But whatever we used to be—whatever I used to feel—it's settled into something quieter. Something softer and easier to carry.

He never brought up that kiss. Not once. Never looked at me differently. Never made it weird. Just… carried on like it hadn’t meant anything. Like we were the same as we’d always been.

And eventually, I guess I believed him and moved on.

Even now, nothing’s really changed.

We’re almost done with college. On the cusp of whatever comes next.

Atsumu and I aren’t a thing. Not really. But there’s something there. A flicker, maybe. Or a fire I’m still figuring out.

I’m happy, though.

No, really—I am!

I’ve got three best friends. A home that feels like mine. Days that make me laugh until my stomach hurts.

Rin’s still a major part of my world. Still close, in that comfortable, familiar way. Still easy to be around. Still my best friend that I'd do anything for.

It’s rare—but sometimes, I wonder if he still thinks about that kiss.

Even rarer—but sometimes, I wonder if I should’ve let it happen.

I wonder if I ever really fell out of love with him… or if I just learned how to live without hoping.

But most days?

Most days, I don’t wonder at all.

Most days, I’m okay.

And that’s more than enough.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

He’s looking at me now.

I smile—out of habit, mostly. But it’s real.

He smiles back, like always.

And for a second, something in my chest stirs. Something old. Something that used to ache.

But it doesn’t hurt anymore. It’s just… there. A quiet flicker of something that once mattered a little more than it does now.

I blink, and it’s gone.

Whatever it was—it’s not ours anymore.

Maybe it never really was.

And maybe I’m okay with that.

I’ve got my little home. My little family. A life that’s messy and chaotic and warm in all the right ways.

I’ve got the twins and their bickering. I’ve got Rin and his quiet, grounding presence.

I’ve got love, just… not the kind I used to dream about.

And honestly?

That feels more than enough.

[tranquilreign]

the next step | oneshot

- © tranquilreign - all rights reserved | DO NOT STEAL, TAKE, or COPY any of MY WORK without MY PERMISSION.

pairing; jungkook/reader genre: fluff, smut, boyfriend!jk virgin!reader warnings; sexual themes, soft sex, oral (f. receiving), protected sex, awkward moments (it's normal), discomfort, slight pain, swearing, jungkook is so precious in this word count: 5.4k synopsis: you and jungkook have been dating for nearly four months, yet have never taken it to the next step. with valentine's day on the way, you try to fight your nerves and make an attempt to seduce him, with the help of your best friend, seokjin.

⊱ ────── {⋅. ♪ .⋅} ────── ⊰

You sat with your face in your hands, peering out through your fingers. Seokjin, your best friend, had dragged you into Victoria's Secret, tossing every piece of lingerie he could find in your size into your hands. You had told him that you were finally ready to take the next step with Jungkook, your boyfriend.

You had been dating for four months, and he couldn't have been more patient with you. He never pushed you to do anything you didn't want, even when you noticed his bulge straining in his trousers.

"Don't worry, baby. I can sort myself out."

He would reassure you that you didn't need to do anything for him, simply because he was turned on. You always felt guilty when you pulled away from his kisses, growing shy at the thought of it going further.

So, who better to go to than your best friend, Seokjin? You had asked him to meet up for coffee and have a catch-up. You had then dropped the question on him.

"No."

"Seokjin, please! I really need your help," you pleaded.

"No offence, Y/n, but you're a lost cause."

You frowned, pulling out 200,000 won. Seokjin stared at you for a moment. He snatched the money out of your hand and quickly counted it through. He hummed, nodding.

"Fine."

"Jinnie, you know red isn't my colour," you whined, holding up a matching set of crimson lingerie.

The sight of the revealing clothes made you blush. You felt mortified at the thought of Jungkook seeing you in something so minimal. Tossing the outfit to the side, you noticed Seokjin standing in front of you with his hands on his hips.

"If you're going to discard every one of my suggestions, I may as well not help you."

"Seokjin, you've thrown everything in this store at me. I don't really know what to do with all this. And I certainly can't afford it all," you explained.

"Well, obviously you're not going to get them all," Seokjin stated as if it were obvious.

You shrank in your seat, feeling embarrassed by his scolding. You were clueless about how to wear the extra pieces. Simply put, you didn’t understand.

Seokjin moved, grabbing one of the sets and holding it up to your chest. After a moment's thought, he threw it at one of the store assistants.

"These are simply no good," he scoffed, throwing another set at the assistant. "Samantha, we're going to need these set in black, white, green and red."

The woman nodded and hurried off to the back of the store. You watched in awe at how quick she complied with his request. You leaned forward slightly, placing your head in your hands.

"Seokjin, I told you red isn't my colour."

"Trust me, Y/n. Red is your colour," he reassured. "Come with me."

Seokjin pulled you up and escorted you to the changing rooms on the other side of the store. Samantha stood, waiting for you to arrive and handed Seokjin the items he had requested.

"Thank you, Samantha," Seokjin muttered, pushing you into one of the changing rooms. "Here." Your friend handed you every single set Samantha had found. "Change. And when you're done, show me."

"W-what?! I'm not going to show you," you stammered, subconsciously covering your chest as if you were already exposed to him.

"Honey, how am I supposed to know what is best for you if I can't see it. Besides, I've known you since we were kids. And the fact I'm gay."

You huffed, drawing the curtain and began to undress. Pulling your top over your head, you glanced at yourself in the mirror. Your bra dug into your sides, and your breasts were spilling out of the cups. You never could find the right size.

You unclasped your bra and picked up the black lingerie beside you. Staring at it, you felt confused about where the extra straps were meant to sit.

"Um, Seokjin, I don't really know how to say this," you confessed shyly. "I don't know how to put this on."

You were quick to cover yourself when the curtain flew open. Samantha had walked in and stared at you. She helped guide your arms into the bra and adjusted the straps, making it more comfortable for you.

"This part sits here," she explained, sorting the extra strap that sat underneath your bust. "And the other ones," she pointed to your breasts. "They are just for decoration; they don't serve any purpose."

"Right, thank you."

Samantha smiled and left the room. You turned around to look at yourself in the mirror. You were surprised at how beautiful your figure looked. Your breasts were perfectly positioned in the cups, and you appreciated that the straps didn't pinch or dig into your skin.

You were quick to put on the underwear, calling on Seokjin when you had finished. He entered, placing a hand under his chin, examining you. You looked around the room, awkwardly waiting for him to say something.

"Good. Next!"

You smiled gleefully, your confidence growing by the second. Seokjin walked out and waited for the next set.

⊱ ────── {⋅. ♪ .⋅} ────── ⊰

Two hours had passed by the time you finished trying on lingerie. After going through the many sets that Seokjin had picked out, he finally decided on three: green, black, and red. You attempted to argue with him about the red set, but to no avail; Seokjin's decision was final.

"They are already bought," Seokjin mentioned as you exited the changing room.

"Jinnie, you really didn't need to do that," you pouted.

"It's no big deal, besides, I just used the money you gave me. So really, I wasn't paying for all of it." You rolled your eyes, knowing that would be something Seokjin would do.

"So, where to next?" you asked as you both left the store.

Seokjin stood for a moment, pulling out his phone and texting someone. You were silent, watching him patiently, until he closed his phone and brushed his hair out of his face dramatically.

"We will continue tomorrow. We need to boost your confidence. So I've booked you in for a boudoir session."

"Excuse me?"

"Don't worry, Taehyung will be doing your photoshoot, so he said it was on him," Seokjin casually responded. "I'll see you tomorrow, Y/n."

With that, Seokjin left you on your own, mouth hanging open. Of all the things to help, he had to book you into the most extreme of them all.

⊱ ────── {⋅. ♪ .⋅} ────── ⊰

The following day had come around quicker than you had hoped. You were sitting in the waiting area of the boudoir studio while Seokjin was speaking with the receptionist. You fiddled with your cuticles, trying not to pick at them from nervousness.

It was nearly 2:00 PM when Taehyung walked out from the back of the studio to greet Seokjin.

"Hello there, Jin. It's been a while, hasn't it?" Taehyung greeted, giving his friend a tight hug.

"Tae, it's always good to see you. I apologise for this being so last minute, but Y/n here," Seokjin gestured to you, "is having a little trouble having some confidence in herself at the moment."

"I see," Taehyung said softly, observing your posture. "Don't worry, love. By the end of this session, you'll feel like a new woman." Taehyung was gentle and encouraging with his words as he guided you through the back.

You were surprised to see the various toys displayed on a small table to the side of the room. In the centre, multiple sets were arranged, showcasing a bedroom and a kitchen.

"We don't have to use any of the items I have here if you're not comfortable with them. However, once you get started and build some confidence, I think you'll want to give them a try," Taehyung explained.

You remained silent, your eyes scanning the room, absorbing everything. You felt uncertain about how to respond. This situation was so far outside your comfort zone that standing there made you feel foolish.

"Here, love, if you get changed into your lingerie behind the curtain there, I can get the camera set up. And if you'd prefer, there's a robe in there for you to put on over the top of your lingerie, okay?"

You only nodded, shuffling to the small room and glancing around. You were hesitant to change, trying your best to stall the situation at hand. It was only when you heard Seokjin's voice that you started to move.

"Y/n, you can't be wasting Taehyung's time like this. He has other clients today as well."

You had wrapped the robe around you, just as you moved out from behind the curtain. Taehyung smiled at you, placing his hand on the small of your back to bring you to the centre of the room.

"Now we typically do a full face of make-up. But from what Seokjin has told me, you prefer it light. Minimal foundation. However, I would like to do a skin-tint and a smokey eye if that's alright?"

"S-sure."

With that, Taehyung brought you over to a make-up chair and spun you around to look at him. He was quick with his work, but gentle. Applying little pressure to your eyes when he applied the eyeshadow. Not even ten minutes later, you were finished and ready for your photoshoot.

"Now, would you prefer your photos taken in the bedroom or kitchen first. Most ladies who are a little more on the shy side prefer the kitchen to begin with, as it's not as... intimate a room," Taehyung explained.

"We can go to the kitchen."

"Perfect," Taehyung beamed, gently taking your hand and escorting you to the kitchen. "Now, I just want you to relax, okay? I'll help you get into positions so you aren't overthinking anything."

You stayed quiet, trying your hardest to let yourself relax. Taehyung sighed slightly, seeing your stiffness. He approached you and gently grabbed your arms.

"I know this is difficult for you, Y/n. But it will just be harder if you don't work with me. Trust me, I'll take good care of you. That, I promise."

With that, you let your arms drop completely to your sides, nodding. Taehyung smiled, gave you a quick thumbs up, and handed his camera to Seokjin. He motioned for you to take off your robe, and you did so, reluctantly.

"First, we'll get you up onto the counter and have you lying down."

You climbed onto the countertop, following Taehyung's instructions. He asked you to prop yourself up on your elbows, bending your leg furthest from the camera while keeping the other leg straight.

"Perfect, now finally I want you to just let your head fall back, okay? Look straight up at the ceiling," Taehyung finished.

You looked up, staring at nothing in particular. You started to laugh at the awkwardness, but Taehyung loved it.

"Brilliant!" he praised, snapping as many shots as he could.

Over time, your confidence grew as you began to enjoy the photoshoot. As the session continued, you moved from the countertop to one of the chairs, sitting backwards with your legs spread wide.

"Beautiful, Y/n. Beautiful!" Taehyung beamed. "Your partner sure is lucky indeed."

"I would like to take the rest of the photos in the bedroom set, if that's okay?" you asked, smiling hopefully.

"Of course, love. Just make your way over and we'll get the lighting moved for you."

You walked over to the bed and sat down, waiting for everything to get set up. Taehyung once again, instructed you into position, sitting you on the floor to begin with.

"Now, if you could bring your arms up over your head, and bend one across the way. Yup! Perfect."

The camera flashed repeatedly, capturing your beauty from every angle. You had caught sight of Seokjin, who was giving you the thumbs up.

"Great, now if you move onto the bed. Would you like to try some of the toys? Maybe if we have you put on the handcuffs and maybe a blindfold?"

You nodded eagerly, showing your enjoyment. Taehyung and Seokjin laughed as they gathered the necessary items. Taehyung carefully tied the restraints around your wrists, checking in with you from time to time to ensure they weren’t too tight. Lastly, he placed the blindfold over your eyes gently, being careful not to mess up your hair.

"Right, I'll need to move you myself into position. Is that alright with you?" Taehyung asked.

"Of course," you responded.

Taehyung was careful where he touched you, making sure not to touch anywhere above your knees when moving your legs. He stepped away once he had finished, and you heard the snapping of the camera once again.

A few more positions and toys later, you had finally finished your session. Taehyung allowed you to get dressed back into your regular clothing and called you over to look at the photos.

You were stunned by how beautiful you looked. Your confidence shone in the images, and it was clear you were having fun.

"I'll print all of these and send them to you in a couple of days. I just need your address." You wrote your address down on a notepad Taehyung had handed you.

"Thank you so much, Tae. I really appreciate you doing this for me. Are you sure there's no way I can pay you for this?" Taehyung laughed.

"Don't worry about it, Y/n. Working with you was payment enough. You would be an incredible model." You smiled shyly at the compliment. "I'm sorry to rush you both, however, I have another client due in five minutes."

You hurriedly hugged Taehyung and bid him farewell as you and Seokjin exited the building.

"I'm really proud of you, Y/n," Seokjin smiled. "You've already come a long way."

⊱ ────── {⋅. ♪ .⋅} ────── ⊰

A few days later, Seokjin got in touch with you again. This time, dragging you to a salon, having you booked in for a manicure, pedicure and getting your hair styled.

"Jimin~" Seokjin cooed upon entering the salon. You followed behind quietly, allowing the two men to greet each other before introducing yourself.

"Seokjin!" a man beamed. He was shorter than your friend, but a very beautiful man. Shimmer glittered his eyelids and cheekbones, enhancing his features. "And you must be Y/n. I've heard so much about you!"

"It's lovely to meet you," you said, holding out your hand.

"Oh, honey, we don't do that here," Jimin teased, pulling you into a hug. "And I most certainly don't bite."

Jimin escorted you into the salon chair and fluffed your hair, examining it. He hummed quietly to himself, pulling strands of your hair in front of your face, trying to imagine the perfect style for you.

"First, we will get your mani and pedi done. Then I'll have you back here for your hair. Sound good?" You nodded, hopping out of your chair and into one at the manicure section of the salon.

When you returned to Jimin, you had a new set of French-tip nails that matched your pedicure. He beamed upon seeing the matching set, praising his co-workers for their expertise.

"Now, honey, if you just sit tight, I'll get your hair looking brand new. Trust me, you'll love it."

Jimin had begun his work when your phone buzzed. Looking down, you noticed a message from Jungkook. A smile crept onto your face upon seeing his name. You unlocked your phone, opening the message.

'Hi baby, I know you know I don't do Valentine's Day, but I booked us a table at that Japanese restaurant you love so much. xx'

You smiled reading the message. Normally, you would be ecstatic about this reservation. But this time, you wanted to focus on him only.

'Hey. I actually have something planned for us already. Would you mind cancelling the reservation? xx'

Ping. He responded immediately.

'Oh? What are we doing?'

'It's a surprise. xx'

You giggled a little, catching Jimin's attention.

"Is that the boyfriend, honey?"

"Yeah, he's asking what I have planned for us on Valentine's Day," you laughed a little when Jimin grinned.

"Jin informed me of your boudoir session yesterday. He mentioned how well you had done, despite you being so nervous to begin with," Jimin smiled warmly.

"Yeah, I wasn't expecting to have so much fun with it, and to enjoy feeling myself? I guess?"

"Well, from what I've been told, you expressed confidence Seokjin himself had never seen from you. That's a big achievement," Jimin explained, pulling your hair in different directions, making small cuts.

"I honestly wouldn't have any confidence if it weren't for Seokjin and Taehyung. And you, of course."

"Your confidence comes from you. No one else. Taehyung and Seokjin just helped you realise your potential. It was you who made it happen."

It was only ten minutes later when Jimin had finished your hair. You gasped, impressed by his styling and his swiftness.

"You're very lucky, Y/n. You're hair is already so luscious and healthy. I just needed to shape it a little bit," Jimin explained, placing his hands on his hips.

"Thank you so much. I appreciate you doing this for me." You moved to take your purse out when Jimin stopped you.

"Oh no, honey, this is on me."

"I can't have you do that. Taehyung did this yesterday, please. If you won't take a full payment, at least let me tip you," you pleaded, holding out 30,000 won.

"Fine, but that's all you're allowed to pay," Jimin scolded, playfully tapping your head with a magazine. "Now go, enjoy the rest of your day, and have a lovely Valentine's Day."

"Thank you, Jimin. I'll be back next week for my haircut, and all the details," Seokjin called, earning a smack on the arm from you.

"Jinnie!" you frowned.

"Oh, like you won't tell me everything that happens the next day," Seokjin fired back, making you go quiet. "That's what I thought. I am your best friend after all." You laughed lightly.

"That you are Seokjin."

⊱ ────── {⋅. ♪ .⋅} ────── ⊰

Valentine's Day had finally arrived. You paced back and forward in your bedroom, waiting for Jungkook to arrive. Everything that Seokjin had taught you had gone out the window. You were overthinking. It was one thing to be confident in yourself and even find yourself sexy.

But having your partner think that of you was completely different. You had spent forty minutes deciding on what lingerie set to wear, calling Seokjin frantically.

"Y/n. The red one," was all Seokjin said before he hung up, leaving you to yourself. You didn't agree with him, but still put it on nonetheless, trusting his judgement.

Your makeup was simple, yet sultry. A robe was tied loosely around your waist, and your hair was as perfect as the day Jimin had styled it. You looked perfect, but you didn't feel it.

Your head snapped to the sound of the front door opening, indicating Jungkook was home.

"Baby? I'm home."

"Now's not the time to get scared," you told yourself.

Quickly, you tightened the belt around your robe and grabbed the envelope on your bedside table, which held the boudoir photos. You quickly pushed your hair out of your face, sitting down on the bed and crossing your left leg over your right, making sure to expose your thighs.

"Baby?" Jungkook asked, opening the bedroom door.

He stopped when he saw you, surprised to see you the way you were. You attempted to use the envelope to fan your face slowly, but with your nerves getting the better of you, your fanning was becoming more aggressive.

"Are you okay, Y/n? Did you not hear me come in?" Jungkook asked, pulling off his jacket and placing it onto the bed.

"I-I'm fine," you stammered. "Just a little warm," you added.

Jungkook looked at you quizzically. He went to unbutton his shirt when you suddenly stood up. He halted, watching your movements closely.

"I actually have something to show you." Your attempt at sounding sexy was backfiring, making you feel foolish.

You went to untie your robe when you ran into a problem. It was too tight. With your back to Jungkook, you fiddled and tugged at the belt, a poor attempt to untie it. You cursed un your breath.

"Baby? Are you sure you're alright?"

"Yes. Yes, I'm fine," you responded, your voice failing you as tears began to well in your eyes.

Jungkook recognised the tone of your voice immediately and made his way over to you. You shrugged off his hand when he placed it on your shoulder, growing more frustrated.

"Darling," Jungkook cooed.

You stopped, allowing tears to cascade down your face, accepting you had messed everything up. You spun around, burying your face into Jungkook's chest as you cried. Jungkook was confused, but he stayed silent, running his hand through your hair lovingly.

"Tell me what's wrong, baby," Jungkook comforted, leading you over to the bed and sitting you down. He knelt down in front of you, his heart breaking at your tears.

"I-I just wanted this to be perfect," you choked.

"What did you want to be perfect?"

"I was finally ready. I wanted- I wanted to fully give myself to you," you sobbed, your head hanging low.

Jungkook finally realised what was happening. He couldn't help but smile at your efforts, finding it cute that you would go to such lengths for him. He placed his fingers under your chin and tilted your head up to look at him.

"You don't need to do any of this for me, baby. I love you just the way you are. You're nothing short of perfect."

"But I had done all this for you. I just wanted it to go right," you sighed, wiping away your tears with the sleeve of your robe.

"Well, how about we start again? I'll help you get this untied, and we can go from there. But only if you are sure you want to do this," Jungkook stated, seriousness in his eyes.

"Yes, I want to."

With your verbal consent, he pulled you to your feet and allowed his hands to move from your shoulders to your belt. With ease, he untied the belt. He looked at you one more time, silently asking if he could continue.

You moved your hands to the opening of your robe, pulling it back and allowing it to fall off your shoulders to the floor. Jungkook bit his lip, looking at how perfect you looked.

"You look breathtaking in red," he breathed, his eyes landing on your breasts.

He watched as your chest rose from your nervous breathing, the sight almost making him lose control. He moved his hand up, lightly tracing the back of his forefinger down your cheek. You shivered at the contact, making him smirk. Moving his hand down to your bra, he gently tugged at one of the decorative straps lying over your breast.

"God, you are stunning," he whispered, moving to wrap his arms around your waist.

He pulled you in close, letting his lips ghost yours, leaving you breathless. He moved to your cheek, planting soft kisses down to your shoulder. He moved further down, just above your breasts and kissed the same spot. You let out a quiet moan, feeling him suck and nibble at your skin.

When he pulled away, he smirked at his work. A small hickey was now placed above your left breast. His gaze moved up to your face, taking in your expression. Your eyes were closed, breathing heavy, biting your lip to suppress your moans.

"Can I lie you down on the bed, baby?" he whispered. You nodded.

"Yes."

He lifted you with ease, bringing your round to the side of the bed and lying you down. He stripped himself of his shirt, giving you a moment to stare at him. You had seen him shirtless plenty of times. But now, it was different. You took in every inch of him, admiring every muscle and tattoo. Without thinking, you sat up, placing your hand at the hem of his trousers, sliding upwards toward his neck, kissing his torso as you did so.

He let his head fall backwards, muttering quietly under his breath. Your touch drove him crazy, and he couldn't explain why. How soft your skin was, and your delicate touches. All he wanted was for you to constantly be touching him.

You had pulled back, noticing the bulge in his pants. You brought your hands to his trousers, unbuttoning them slowly, teasingly. He watched you, his gaze intense. Only when you leaned back down onto the bed did he move, removing his trousers in a shift motion and climbing on top of you.

"Please, let me kiss you," he pleaded, his tone taking you by surprise. You had never heard him so needy.

"Of course, Kook."

Jungkook wasted no time closing the gap between the two of you, letting your lips mould with one another. Your breath caught in your throat when his hand traced down to your waist, gripping it tightly. He pulled away, looking over you to make sure you were okay.

"Don't stop," you whispered, pulling his back down.

You felt him slowly begin to grind into you, adding to your excitement. He moved from your lips and peppered kisses down until he reached your stomach. He looked up at you, hooking his fingers around the band of your underwear. You nodded eagerly.

In one swift motion, your underwear was pulled off and discarded on the bedroom floor. He lay flat on the bed, wrapping his arms around your thighs and pulling you closer to him.

"If there's anything I do that doesn't feel right, let me know, baby," he reassured. You silently agreed. He moved his face closer between your legs. His breath tickled your thighs, making you giggle slightly.

You gasped when Jungkooks lips wrapped around your clit, sucking gently, while his tongue moved up and down in a rhythmic motion. Your hands moved to his hair, back arching as a moan escaped your mouth.

"I-I'm sorry," you panted, flustered.

Jungkook pulled away, chuckling softly at how cute you were. He gently kissed up your inner thigh, then back down.

"There is no need to apologise, baby. If anything, it gives me confidence that I'm making you feel good. So let me hear you moan for me."

Jungkook moved back down between your legs and continued. A string of moans left you as Jungkook pleasured you. Every now and then, he would change his pace, slowing down or speeding up. You grew frustrated with his teasing, whining from the pleasure.

"Please."

Jungkook stopped.

"Please, what?"

"Please, make me come," you pleaded, looking down at him.

His eyes were filled with lust and love, grinning mischievously. He moved back one more time, this time keeping the same pace. He flicked his tongue against your clit, feeling your grip tighten in his hair, he knew you were close.

Jungkook felt you come undone against his tongue, your body shaking in ecstasy. He moved down to your entrance, licking from the bottom up to your clit, tasting you. You jerked at the sensitivity. He breathed out a laugh, the cold air hitting against you.

"Did that feel good, baby?" he asked while kissing your thighs.

"Fuck, yes."

Jungkook took the opportunity to move back up, so he was hovering over you. You avoided eye contact with him, becoming shy at how easily you came. He waited until you looked back at him.

"We can stop here if you-"

"No," you answered a little too quickly. "I-I want to go the whole way."

"That's a good girl," Jungkook smirked, standing up and pulling his boxers off.

You couldn't help but stare as he did so, unable to take your eyes off his size. You swallowed a little, your nerves beginning to return. He reached over to his bedside table and opened the drawer, pulling out a small silver packet.

He tore it open with his teeth, pulling out a condom from the foil. He pulled it over his cock and rolled it down, making sure it sat securely at the base. Jungkook then crawled back on top of you and grabbed hold of himself.

"I'm going to ask one more time. Are you sure?" he asked, noticing how your face changed.

"Y-Yes, I'm sure. I'm just nervous," you replied shyly. Jungkook planted a soft kiss against your forehead.

"It's okay to be nervous, baby," Jungkook soothed. "But I will say, with you still being a virgin, this may hurt a little bit. Okay?"

You nodded in response, wrapping your arms around his neck. Jungkook rubbed his tip against your entrance, coating himself in your wetness.

He was gentle, slowly easing in and out a little bit at a time, getting you used to the feeling. Your eyes scrunched shut when he began to push further in, the stretch becoming painful. Your nails dug into Jungkook's shoulders. He took that moment to stop, allowing you to adjust to his size.

"Please tell me you're almost in," you winced.

"I'm afraid we're only halfway," Jungkook informed. You laughed a little, trying to take your mind off the pain you were feeling below. "You're taking me so well, baby. Just a little further."

Jungkook's words filled you with reassurance, and you gestured for him to move again. With one final push, Jungkook was all the way in. You let out a quiet grunt in pain at the feeling. Like before, Jungkook stayed still, waiting until you were ready.

He kissed your face, attempting to take your mind off the ache. You breathed heavily, trying to allow yourself to relax a little more. Jungkook whispered praises in your ear, telling you how good you were doing.

When you felt that you were finally ready, you nodded, signalling for Jungkook to move. He moved his hand behind your back, raising you up slightly. Slowly, he pulled out and slid back in, making you both moan in unison.

"Fuck," he whispered.

The feeling of you tightening around his cock had him fighting not to finish. He often fantasised about how you felt, but he had never thought you'd feel this good.

"Oh my God," you gasped, feeling him stretch you with every thrust.

He continued his steady pace, sweat beginning to form on his forehead. He moved his hand from your back to your face, making you look at him.

"Will you-" he grunted, "will you come with me?"

You couldn't speak, only nodding in response. He took the opportunity to pick up his pace a little, thrusting deeper. The feeling had you in a state of euphoria, eyes rolling to the back of your head as your orgasm grew closer.

"Fuck, Kook- I'm gonna-" you couldn't finish as you reached your high. You pulled yourself up to his chest, needing to be close to him as he came shortly after. His breathing was uneven, hair sticking to his forehead as he rode out both your highs.

He finally stopped, slowly pulling out of you, and moving to lie on the other side of the bed. You closed your legs, pouting at the sudden loss of contact.

Jungkook rolled off the bed and made his way to the bathroom. Confused, you sat up and waited for him to come back. He returned shortly with a damp washcloth and sat at the bottom of the bed.

"Open your legs for me, baby."

You complied, slowly spreading your legs again. Jungkook brought the cloth to your entrance, gently wiping away any excess saliva and sweat, being careful not to brush your sensitive clit.

"I did rip you a little bit. I'm sorry," Jungkook apologised, wiping away a little bit of blood that had mixed in with your orgasm.

"It's okay," you replied. "Was I- was I okay?" you asked sheepishly.

Jungkook pulled back from you, tilting his head, giving you a knowing look.

"You know you were more than okay. You were perfect. I'm glad you were confident enough to show me all of you," Jungkook praised, leaning forward to cup your cheek in his hand.

"I love you, Kook," you hummed, closing your legs and moving slowly to him. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into him. He nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck, taking in the mixture of your scent and sweat.

"I love you, too, baby."

⊱ ────── {⋅. ♪ .⋅} ────── ⊰

hey there! thank you so much for reading! i will say, I am really proud of this piece, as it's the first time I've wrote smile in a while! please let me know what you think and if I should do more in the future!

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tranquilreign~

[moonlight-fox]

I get I'm preaching to the choir here, but...

a) I always try to build a character that fits the game's (or campaign's) premise. And this idea that it is "overly controlling" (as I've seen said) for a GM to restrict player options is... An anathema to that concept to me. If the campaign or adventure would require soemthing specific, I'm doing my damdest to make them fit. All circus performers? I'm figuring out my act even if I'm not asked for that. All pirates? Yar matey, I be playin a pirate for this here campaign. All elf? That's going to need a very good pitch but if you pull it off I'll play a goddamn elf.

a i) Granted I might be biased by having done a bunch of freeform roleplay in my youth and seeing how... Gonzo... my creative instincts can be if not reigned in. I have played souls trapped in crystaline structures that they can levitate above the ground and which use telekinesis to interact with the world and can manipulate the refraction of light for various effects (some harmful). That was the second, more grounded, character after my first didn't work - A character who, for all intents and purposes, was a floating disco ball was the grounded option that didn't annoy both me and the GM.

a i a) ...I should remake that disco ball as an Animon for Animon Story sometime, either as an NPC or partner animon. Nightmare Light, probably. Maybe Other but 'soul who died by being impaled on crystal' means he's a ghost and ghosts feel nightmare per that system's classification.

a ii) I know I've seen GMs who "I want to accomodate my players to play whatever they want" but... Unless we're doing world creation as a group in session 0 or beforehand, either via a formal system such as Lexicon or Microscope or an informal chat, what I want is for you to help me make a character who fits into your world and campaign concept. Don't risk me inflicting a sapient disco ball on your campaign.

a ii a) Although I am self aware enough to deliberately try to go with more 'normal' options as presented by books the first time I play with a new GM. Sticking with options found in the core book (if there are multiple) the first time I play a system unless told differently. The more unusual options within that book, often - I know without reading the system that I'd go with the duck option in Dragonbane - but something that the book presents as "this is the range of normalacy in this game for PCs"

a iii) Although something I've found over the past year or so is that I actually quite enjoy being given systems to randomise aspects of my character and then figuring out who my character is from what I randomly selected and building out from that. One shots of CoC and Mausritter, with that method of character creation being the default, led me to doing it on my own behest sometimes for my solo gaming if I didn't have something specific in mind when coming up with the campaign.

b) Sometimes reluctant heroes can work. But only if part of the campaign pitch forces these characters to... Whatever we're here to play. Having someone who isn't inclined to do adventure for a game with the premise of "As part of Session 1 you'll all find yourselves in Hell, and the campaign will be based on finding your way out of it." is a very different prospect to one where "You're going to be heroes for hire in an epic fantasy world". In the former, a character who would rather be at home growing potatoes works, because they have to have adventure in order to go back to growing potatoes. In the second, why would you ever make a character who would rather be at home growing potatoes?

b i) I try and nest reasons for my character to go with whatever the adventure is into them, particularly for stuff that isn't one shots or hyper specific in what's going to happen. This is easier if the pitch is that we all know each other before hand - Protective of friends. Easy for friends to talk into shenanigans that are against their better judgement - but 'reward motivated' is usually a reliable one for adventure fantasy to make work.

c) Flipping the script, something I often like to do when running a one shot - Or sometimes campaign - is to have a broader idea and for the players to tell me during character creation why it is they're doing what they're doing. Obviously some games like Escape From Dino Island bake this into the game's structure, and then bake that reason into the adventure I'd either already planned or am improvising. Again, this requires the PCs to know each other before hand.

d) Does anyone know how to indent bullet points in tumblr so if I'm doing a post like this again I don't need to be doing a) b) b i) b ii) b ii a) style stuf?

I mean, it's at least little bit funny how Hasbro's efforts to position Dungeons & Dragons as a universal entry-level game have managed to undo thirty years of development in D&D's culture of play and we're back to litigating whether "you should create characters who actually have a reason to go on adventures rather than expecting the GM to do backflips to justify their presence" is unreasonably imposing upon the player's creative freedom like it's fucking 1994.