#did you rush through everything just so you could be mad?

[epicmarrowbonesoup]

Headcannon that postcannon Charles doesnt like leaving Edwin alone for long streches of time.

You know the way he did in the beggining of the show, leaving Edwin alone so that Charles could be with Crystal or just giving Edwin space to be with other people(Monty or Niko). I think post-Hell Charles Rowland would feel uneasy about not having Edwin in his line of sight while at the same time not wanting to make a big deal out of it.

Like how in the last episode Edwin is alone and Charles leaves others to pack so he could check up on Edwin, that sort of thing. Or how he was hessitent to follow Crystals plan at first becouse he has to rescue(see) Edwin ( to me it also looks like Charles was so busy rushing to Edwin he didnt noitice Nikos body but that might just be me)

Anyways i think it would be a fun direction to take Charles's characther in. Considering in s1 he is already weary of Edwin spending time with the Cat King, youd get that whole jealousy thing but doubled and mixed in with his feeling of inadequacy as the brawn. But also s1 establishes Charles as being at least partially insecure about their bond: having to correct Edwin whenever Edwin says how Charles would move on quickly and constanty seeking reassurment from edwin about their friendship (ep 1 when he asks what would happen if death came, ep 4 with his fight with the night nurse, seeing Brad and Hunter the best friends as him and Edwin)

And then you also have the reversal of how Edwin was jealous of Charles spending lots of times with Crystal and now Charles is protesting every second Edwin isnt with him. And ofcourse Charles does it from a place of fear and love but Edwin would maybe interpret it the wrong way, who knows?

And, from what the writers have told us, Edwin in s2 spent at least some amount of time flirting with other men (hopefully without Charles lurking in the background) and from what we know from that one cameo Jayden and George did, there was a lot of tension between the boys...

Now im not a writer i didnt write the s2 script or anything, im not saying this is what would have happened in s2 but.... i think the tension might have come from that. From Charles seeing Hell as a traumatic expirience and his PTSD manifesting as his insistence on Edwin not leaving his side, Charles's insecurities and his fear of losing Edwin being at an all time high. While Edwin, who has learnd how to forget Hell, is acting as if nothing happened at all, exploring his sexuality and making new friends in the process.

It would make Charles confront all of the skeletons he's been hiding in the closet but also it would ask the simple question of why is Charles so insecure in their friendship? Why is he constantly mentioning them being best mates? Why does he need it so much? Why is he constantly searching from reassurences that they are best friends?

And for more angst, from Edwins point of view he is doing everything Charles wanted him to do in s1. Hes accepting and letting the dead boy detectives workplace to grow and change, he is being more open and friendlier, he is encouraging Charles friendship/relationship with Crystal and he is no longer playing trauma Olympics at the drop of a hat. So why is Charles so mad? Hes working through his shame and his supiriority complex, hes growing as a person and Charles is still stuck at the staircase.

[soupandsorcery]

went in the dav tag, largely just to look for gifs to reblog and to see other people's rooks, and it's just half the fandom being like 'this game is so fun 😄' and the other half divided between being mad that the game is too woke, the game is not woke enough, or (insert character here) was massacred either by the art direction or the narrative.

anyway, i will probably ramble my thoughts some, so if you're so inclined, block #dav and #noah plays dav

[ohmygraves]

once, you tried to hide from your husband simon.

it wasn't your first attempt, of course. he's very observant and would notice you missing if you were out of his sight for like five seconds. you two are basically joined to the hip, so it's really, really hard for you to just somehow disappear from his sight. you're thankful that somehow he didn't even set up security cameras for the house himself.

of course, that doesn't discourage you from pranking your husband.

simon was away on a deployment for a few months, and you have been planning all of this from start to finish. you've seen lots of tiktok and reels and whatever about seeing how long your spouse will go look for you if you went missing, and you're kind of curious as to how long it takes for him to go look for you. clearly, you weren't thinking that far ahead.

you went and set up cameras yourself, since it's high time that you need to install one anyway. you told simon before he left, he completely trusted you to deal with it. he's most likely going to check everything when he comes back anyway, making sure that you did everything properly. but that's how you find yourself sitting impatiently, waiting for him to pull over the driveway of your shared home.

after setting everything up, you make sure that the cameras are working around the house. one by the front door, one in each room (except the bathroom), one in the garage and overseeing the driveway, and one facing the backyard.

this was flawless. this was amazing. he's going to laugh and find you in five seconds as usual.

you quickly hide yourself in the closet after you hear him pull over, making sure to keep your voice as low as possible. you giggled as you saw him call for you as he walked into the house through the security camera. but you weren't ready to see what happened next.

simon kept calling for you, looking around nervously as he couldn't find you. he dropped his duffel bag on the floor, kicking his boots off in a rush as he looked everywhere for you, getting increasingly agitated and anxious since you didn't respond. you can clearly see how panicked he was, how scared he is. his voice cracks as you could hear him pass from room to room, his hands flipping through your entire house to find you.

seeing how panicked he was, you felt really bad.

you quickly leave your hiding spot, calling out to simon. he was holding a knife in his hand, a panicked look on his eyes as he turns to you, eyes blown wide. his breathing is irregular.

"simon! i'm sorry! i was hiding and—"

you couldn't even finish your sentence before he hugged you, dropping his knife as he held you close to him. his body shook silently as he pressed you against his chest, not wanting to let go. you could feel his heart beating fast, his fingers trembling against the small of your back. you could feel wetness dropping against your skin, but you're too scared to say it out loud.

"... don't do that again..."

"i'm sorry, simon..."

he didn't say anything, simply holding you tighter in his arms. he wouldn't leave you alone for a few days afterwards. you're sure he's still mad at you after what you did, but he didn't say anything, too busy holding you close to him hoping that somehow he could glue the two of you together so you wouldn't wander off.

you learned that you probably shouldn't try and scare him like that again.

[braindeadjaidyn]

Rafe following his babysitter into the bathroom

Fucking her against the door, holding her mouth closed with his hand

His family just outside in the living room, while he is fing her as hard as he can

BABYSITTERS CLUB!

summary:..-> reader and rafe always had a thing for each other. everything changes once she picks up a babysitting job, babysitting the one and only kook king.

warnings:..-> smut, p n v, bad dirty words, wards a douche, rough sex, rushed sex, both cum quick:(, sex that could’ve got them caught?? EVERYONE IS OF AGE!!!

word count:..-> 2700.

a/n:..-> hello pookie and pookies! okay so don’t be mad….i know I didn’t do the bathroom but I hope this okay! i got tunnel vision and didn’t even realize! im sorry if i edged yall with the constant build up. yall writing sex is HARD. anyway requests are open bye love u. AND BE NICE.

It was almost laughable that Rafe fucking Cameron, kook king needed a babysitter. It WAS laughable. Ward Cameron had contacted you through Facebook knowing of the fact you babysit. Yeah, you did, but not 20-year-old frat guys.

Ward Cameron: Hello Y/n! Your father told me you do babysitting and I’m looking to hire one for tonight! It would be for my son and daughter, it may seem a little odd. My apologies. I will be having some important meetings with a large group, and I don’t trust either to be on their best behavior. Please contact me back so we can discuss further! I’ll pay 500$ for 3 hours.

The message sent you into a fit of cackles, screenshotting the text and sending it to all your friends. The idea was so tempting. So fucking tempting. 500$ for 3 hours was a literal steal…Yet you were going to be in the presence of the insufferable Rafe Cameron. You hadn’t had many interactions with Rafe, he usually just teased you for being the ‘prude good girl’ every time you told him no to hook up. You’d be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t think about letting him fuck the shit out of you, hell you almost did. Every time you’d open your mouth to try and agree he’d open his spewing his bullshit, immediately forcing you to shut your own.

You bit at the soft flesh on your bottom lip, tapping the phone with your eyes trained on the text. Fuck it. 500$ for keeping the cocky frat boy in line sounded so good, so so fucking good. You agreed, and your thumbs moved quickly over the screen. Your lip was still tucked firmly between your teeth as you waited for his father’s reply.

Y/n L/n: That sounds good! Thank you so much Mr. Cameron! I’ll be there. When should I be there and can I have the address?

Ward Cameron: Of course Y/n! My meeting is in about 40 minutes, I would like you here as soon as possible. I will be here the whole time so I’ll give you a rundown of responsibilities and such when you arrive. *address*.

This soon? You immediately scrambled to your feet, throwing on some more appropriate clothes than your lounge ones. You were so quick you thought your heels were on fire.

Soon enough here you were on the Camerons porch knocking on the front door. Jesus, why did you agree to this? Fuck. The only time you ever interacted with Rafe was when you were fucked up, now here you were sober about to babysit the grown-ass man. This is ridiculous. The door swung open, of fucking course Rafe Cameron was the one to answer it. Sporting his stupid handsome smirk and backward cap. “You’re the one who’s keepin’ me on a leash tonight girl?” He drawled, flashing you his teeth.

Goddamn, his fucking fine ass. You tongued the inside of your cheek, fighting the urge to roll your eyes at his comment. With a tilt of your head and a soft huff, you finally met his gaze. “Just shut up and let me in Cameron,” With that Rafe chuckled, shaking his head as he moved from the door opening it further. You could feel his sharp stare as you walked past him and into the house. You were a little in awe at the niceness but quickly masked it, tucking your face back into its resting expression. Rafe didn’t miss it as he sidestepped around you, his smirk only growing.

“You never been in a house this nice princess?,” Rafe taunted, his smirk replaced with a smug smile.”Come on, my dad’s in here,” He led you further into the home, and you lagged behind. Cursing him internally at his snarky comments. Why was this dude such a diva? You followed aimlessly looking around at the different decor, this was so different from your own house.

Ward Cameron sat on the sofa, his attention on the laptop resting on the marble coffee table, his fingers working against the keys. He just looked like a dick, great….Rafe cleared his throat and shifted on his feet. You picked up his sudden change in demeanor, his once arrogant self replaced with a look that looked like a kicked puppy. It was sad, actually very sad. But you shrugged off your sympathy as Ward glanced up his face lighting up in foe friendliness. “Y/n my dear. Thank you for coming,” Ward greeted, closing the distance between the three. “Right well, I'm having a large meeting this evening. Lots of colleagues and other investors are joining me today. We will be using the living room, my office would be far too cramped. I’m just asking you to keep an eye on everyone and out of the living room.”

This man just screamed condescending. You nodded, sending him a soft smile. Once again you fought the urge to roll your eyes, how did he expect his grown son to listen to her? He was Rafe Cameron. It was widely known he doesn’t listen to anyone. “Yes sir, I can do that.” You spoke softly and sweetly, it was an act yet you wanted that 500$. Rafe sent you another smirk before he licked his lips to keep his dirty comment to himself. Ward nodded, reaching out to softly pat your shoulder. He quickly pulled away, and you fought the urge to jerk away. “Great! Well, Rafe behave. You’re 20 years old. It’s ridiculous that I had to even hire her.” Ward shot his son a pointed look, which made Rafe emotionally cower. Rafe just firmly nodded, his arms folded over his chest. You had to divert your gaze, your cheeks heating as you noticed how his shirt sleeves were straining against his muscles. Fuck.

A firm rushed knock at the front door thankfully interrupted your sinful thoughts. Ward immediately jerked his head to the noise, moving past the young adults. “Right, that's my meeting. So see you both later.” Ward called as he barely bothered looking over his shoulder at the two. He disappeared out of the living, and you could feel Rafe's eyes on you. Jesus Christ, does he have an off button? You met his gaze, surprised to see it was blank. “What?” You questioned, your face slightly twisted and your eyebrow arched.

Rafe just sighed deeply, running his hand over his cap. “Let’s get upstairs before he throws a bitch fit,” Rafe muttered, his body already moving toward and up the stairs. You followed, your heart beating wildly. It felt weird how domestic? No. Casual. Yeah, how casual this was. His long legs ate away at the distance of the stairs, you lagged behind feeling a little awkward by everything. I mean you’re fucking babysitting Rafe Cameron and his little sister, it was weird. You made your way to the top of the steps, glancing at him awkwardly for his next move. You could already hear the chatter from the men downstairs.

“Quit actin’ all fuckin shy girl, Les’ go Sarah’s in here,” Rafe smirked his head cocking over to a door, his hand pulling the door open. “How’s it hangin’ Sar?,” You were now standing in the doorway of what you assumed was a movie room, you knew they were rich but they were richhh. Sarah barely glanced up from her phone at the duo, shrugging her shoulders in response. Rafe plopped down on one of the sofas, legs spread open as he looked you over. “Sooo, are you always this weird when you're sober princess?”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at his words. He was so damn cocky and for what? You scowled at him, your pretty face twisting. “Do you always need a babysitter at your grown age?” You snarked, your hands crossing over your chest and you shifted your weight to your hip. Rafe took notice of that and eyed your hip for a moment, chuckling as he tongued the inside of his cheek.

“Real cute baby, don’t be throwin’ that up in my face.” Rafe rasped, his eyes looking over you cocking his brow at the fact you were still standing in the doorway. He patted the cushion next to him, a smirk on his lips. “Don’t be shy princess, I won't bite.”

You thought for a moment before begrudgingly plopping yourself down next to him. It was a small couch, so small you were brushing thighs with him. You averted your gaze as you felt your cheeks flush at the contact. You knew he was planning something, you could feel it in his stares. Rafe was planning something, more so just thinking about fucking you stupid over the armrest of the couch. He was going to hell for what he was about to ask, especially with Sarah in the room. He leaned forward, bracing his hand on the top of the couch. Rafe's chest was flush against your shoulder, his head ducked down by your ear fanning his breath down your neck. “Why won’t you let me fuck you princess?”

His words sent a shiver down your spine, his breath sending your mind into overdrive. You bit your lip, adjusting your skirt to try and compose yourself. You were bright red and you could feel it, you could also feel the ache between your legs at his tone. You had to remind yourself Sarah was in the room. You looked over at him and felt like you could melt when you met his smug gaze. “I mean..I-I would-,“ Your voice was low and quiet, careful for Sarah's listening ears, but before you could finish Sarah's dramatically loud groan and the thump of her phone cut you off. You were so down bad.

“The fuc- The wifi just went out, ugh. Rafe fix it,” Sarah whined, looking at her older brother with pleading eyes. The only issue was the router was in the living room. Rafe sighed deeply at the interruption, glancing over at Sarah with narrowed eyes.

Rafe definitely couldn’t go down there and fuck with the router with his dad having a meeting. It was the whole point why Y/n was there. But he could get her downstairs and alone…So tempting in his pervy brain and worth a shot. “Fine. Come on Y/n. Be my cover.”

Seriously? He was going to go down there, practically asking for a meltdown from his dad. Before you could protest he had you by the forearm and dragged you out of the movie room. “Rafe-“ You went to speak but he cut you off as he pressed his finger to his lips, silently shushing you as the two of you crept down the stairs. You both met at the bottom of the stairs, the living room just around the corner, a wall protecting the view of the duo. The laughs and voices of multiple men were slightly muffled from the distance.

You crept forward, keeping close to the wall not without shooting Rafe a pointed look. You were falling right into his dirty trap, just like he wanted. His mind only focused on fucking that cunt and your interrupted words. Before you could peek over the corner he pressed your back flush against the wall, his body eliminating the distance as he pressed his front to yours. He smirked down at you, his eyes roving over you like you were prey. “Finish your sentence, pretty girl.” He commanded, his voice low, careful to not attract anyone’s attention.

Your mouth opened to speak but the words were lost in your throat. Your mind was spinning at the closeness, your pussy was practically pleading. You could only hold his intense stare, his hand snaking around to grip the back of your thigh. “Say it. Tell me you want this dick baby.” Rafe cooed his mouth coming to your ear, his lips brushing the skin. Fuck this. You were already soaked from his touch, his words only increased the throb. You couldn’t believe what you were about to do, but it was Rafe fucking Cameron…

You nodded weakly, hands fisting his shirt as you lifted the thigh he grasped. “I want it, please.” You wanted to smack yourself for the desperation in your tone, but you never wanted to get fucked like you did now. Rafe pounced, his lips immediately crashing into yours. It was sloppy and full of need. God, he kissed like a fucking whore. You couldn’t help but mewl against his lips, your body felt like it was on fire. His hands were everywhere, leaning his body against yours as his hands grabbed the flesh of your ass from under your skirt. Which earned him another soft mewl, yet it was muffled by his soft lips. He rutted himself against you, god this was so nasty. So down bad. But you were fucking loving it. So was Rafe.

He pulled away, his chest heaving with heavy deep breaths. His lips were wet, and he looked sinful. You moved your hands to the waistband of his shorts, working away the button and zipper. You couldn't help it truly. Rafe liked your eagerness, his ego inflated as well as his dick. “Needy fuckin’ girl.” Rafe tsked lowly, assisting you as he tugged away down his shorts, his hands moving to the waistband of his boxers, he couldn’t help but smirk at your reaction to the tent in his boxers. Your eyes were wide, pretty lips parted in need. He freed himself from the boxers, fisting his cock as he looked you over. Fuck. He was so hot. You took this as your cue, you moved your panties to the side. This wasn’t the best spot to get caught fully exposed…

“Rafe…What if someone- fuck- mph-“ You whispered, cut off by Rafe thrusting his cock into you his hand clamping over your mouth. He kept his other hand on the back of your thigh, as he pounded into you. His cock was moving in your slick walls at a relentless pace, his fat tip brushing areas you never knew existed.

Rafe had his lips parted, his head hung back as your pussy clenched tightly around him. He kept his hand firmly clasped around your mouth, he smooshed the side of your face into the wall, his cock fucking into you at an unforgiving pace. The sound of your pelvis’s kissing was sinful. “Take it, take this fat dick,” Rafe growled lowly, his eyes glancing to the corner of the wall as he heard a couple of men speak louder.

You couldn’t even muster a response, let alone voice it due to his harsh grip around your mouth. You could only pathetically whine and cry against his palm, as his cock brushed that spongy spot deep into you. Your teeth grazed the flesh of his hand as he repositioned his thrusts, fucking you upwards against the wall. You clawed at his arms, your cunt squeezing tightly around his cock. God, you couldn’t believe how close he had gotten you so quickly. Your lower stomach burned with need, your core aching for release. You could tell Rafe was close, his brows knitted and his lip tucked between his teeth. His cock twitched in your velvety walls, he dropped his hand from your thigh moving his fingers to firmly rub your clit. You bit at the flesh of his hand, hoping to muffle your screams as you crashed over the edge. Your body trembling, eyes rolled back as you made a mess on his fat cock. You clamped down on his cock as Rafe let out a deep groan, planting his cock deep into you as he painted your womb with his warm cum. Your chest heaved with fast shaky breaths, you just let Rafe Cameron fuck you against a wall, while his father and however many men were on the other side.

Rafe pulled out of you, a sly smile on his lips. He pulled your panties back to the side and tucked himself back into his boxers with a chuckle. He held your wide blown-out gaze as he pulled his shorts up. “You’re a shit babysitter princess.”

[sevsdollette]

thinking about ellie when she’s angry. i think I cooked on this one.

contains: mentions of injuries. a little bit of arguing. smut (giving ellie head, fingering (r-recieving), heavy making out, choking, tribbing)

MDNI and men get away!!

it’s been a rough day around jackson. there was a swarm of infected running around in the woods—attacked some people you and ellie knew. they all came back okay, but situations were high-strung. you and ellie had been out the whole day searching, killing, and surviving.

your scout groups were separated. you spent the whole day wondering where your girlfriend was and what was going on with this strange zombie hoard. but, still, you had to stay focused on your own tasks. 

at the end of the day, when the sun was setting over the thick forest, you came back to jackson with your mind set on finding ellie.

her group had returned an hour before and all of them looked a little beat up. 

you walked through the stables, seeing them by the aid station. one of them had a large bandage casted around his leg and was walking on crutches. another was holding a bloody tissue to his face. a couple more had stray bandages wrapped around their limbs. 

you didn’t see ellie at first and your blood froze. your mind told you the worst. ellie was always one to act like a hero. you hated it, but it was who she was.

then she came out from around the corner. from the looks of it, she was fine. but you could tell there was peril behind her eyes. she had this wild, panicked look of a woman still high on adrenaline.

her hair was pulled back and off her neck. her flannel was stained and the sleeves were rolled up to her elbows. one of her leather boots was caked in mud and the other had a tear in the toe, revealing its steel. she had a hard grimmace, eyes scanning over every person from her squad that was sat against the wall.

you rushed over, dropping your pack and wrapping your arms around her neck. 

she stumbled back before embracing you quickly. “hey, babe, you alright?” she asked

“yeah, are you?” you let go and stood back. maybe you had missed where the injury was.

she purses her loops, looking down the hall of the stable in thought. maybe she hadn’t heard you. her brow was furrowed and her jaw clenched tight.

“ellie?”

she blinked rapidly and shook her head. “what, baby?”

your face tensed. “are you okay,” you repeated.

“yeah, yeah.” she brushed you off, stepping back. “i didn’t get hurt. i’m fine.”

“ellie—“

“why don’t you,” she began, taking your wrist as you tried to touch her face. “go home. i’ll see you there in a little bit. i just have to handle taking care of my crew.”

“well, i could help you—“

“go home,” she pleaded. “just go home.”

you shifted back, biting the inside of your cheek. she hadn’t even been looking at you. her ever frantic mind was too occupied to give you the time.

fine, you thought, picking your pack back up and walking out of the stables. 

you went home. where else was these to go? you slammed through the door, tossing your pack wherever it wanted to land, and stormed upstairs.

part of you wanted your anger to be directed at ellie, but really you were just frustrated. you were mad at the situation. why did today have to be so shitty? your scout mission hadn’t even been too stressful. you shot down one stalker and everything was quiet. 

but ellie must’ve been through the ringer. she hadn’t even told you what happened but you could assume bad enough. it wasn’t normal for her to treat you like that.

you took a deep breath as you undressed and got into some clean clothes. the house was too quiet when she wasn’t home. such a secluded town made an eerily silent world when one was alone. it almost made you feel like you were back out in those woods

you went back downstairs and sat in the living room. you wanted something to occupy yourself. maybe read a book or listen to a record, but you couldn’t get your feet to work to bring you to the bookshelf or record player.

just as you were about to retreat to bed, ellie came clamoring through the door. 

her pack was slung over her shoulder, she had her rifle tucked in the crook of her elbow, and her shoe was untied. her eyes stuck to the floor as she tried to walk without tripping.

“hey,” you hurried, walking over to take the pack off her back. she muttered a thank you and went to the counter to put her gun down. you stood in silence as she kicked off her boots and ran a hand through her messy hair.

she bit her lip, peeling away the dry skin. her hands were perched on her hips and she stared at the floor. it took you a second to see that her bottom lip was quivering and her eyes were glassed over.

you pulled her into an embrace and this time she returned it. she took a large breath, hiding her face into your shoulder as her hands on your back pressed you close. a moment later, you could feel her tears staining your skin. she was silent but shaking.

you smoothed your fingers through her hair and took it out of its tie. “what happened?”

she shook her head, hiding her face further. muffled against your collar, you heard her say, “i thought i was gonna lose them all.”

you shushed her as the tears broke her more. “come upstairs,” you wished. “clean yourself up and rest.”

after a minute, she let you go and you led her up. she showered as you tidied the bed and turned off some of the lights. after a while, you realized she was probably just standing in the shower, staring at the tile wall. 

a lot of her hours were spent blankly staring and thinking. for such a young woman she had too much in her mind. everyone did, living in this world. you surely had your share of bad days. but everything seemed to hit ellie harder.

there was no clock in your bedroom, but you assumed she was in there for half an hour. when she came out, she quickly dressed in a hoodie and sweats but didn’t get into bed.

“what’s wrong?” you asked, sitting up.

she shook her head and rubbed her eyes. “i just can’t sleep right now.”

“well, why don’t you lay down and try? you’ve had a long day, i’ll help you relax.”

she continued to shake her head. “no.”

“ellie, i just think you should get some rest. why don’t you tell me what happened—“

“i don’t—“ she snapped. her face soured into anger and she clenched her jaw. “i don’t want to go to sleep or talk about it.”

she didn't take her time leaving. the bedroom door was shut behind her before you could think of something else to say. you could hear her stomping down the stairs. a moment later, she was creeking the floorboards of the back porch.

she was smoking again. you told her a thousand times to stop with the cigarettes. it was a nasty habit that would kill her faster than a bloater. she always turned to it when she was stressed and it was difficult to pry it out of her fingers.

you got out of bed and went downstairs. you had no plan in your head to deal with the situation, but something told you to act on instinct.

she was in fact sitting on the back deck, nursing a hand-rolled cigarette. in the dark backyard you could see the burning embers more than her distressed face. when you opened up the screen door she winced and looked away from you, blowing smoke out into the night air.

“i don’t need you yelling at me right now,” she bit, putting the cigarette back between her chapped lips and taking a long drag. “just go to bed.”

“i’m not here to yell at you.” you walked over slowly and stood beside her. you shifted, leaned down to grab her chin and tilt her head up to look at you.

her wide, pouting eyes were pitiful. she stared up at you like she had nothing else in the world. perhaps a part of her was trying to be upset at you, but more of her needed you.

you sighed and whispered her name, leaning in to kiss her. 

she was needy. with your lips, you nearly pulled her up out of her seat so she could stay close to you. her hands were grasping at your jaw, dragging you back down to her.

you held yourself propped up on the arms of the chair, hanging over her as her desperate kisses broke you. she was practically whining and begging to have more of you. her hands slid over your shoulders and under the collar of your t-shirt.

you led your kisses lower, sliding your teeth over her neck to make her stutter. she gripped your shoulders to steady herself as you sucked a dark mark on the curve of her neck. she sighed and leaned her head back to give all of herself to you.

“you need to relax," you cooed, whispering in her ear. “you’ve had a bad day, baby, i know. just let me help you, okay?”

she pursed her lips and nodded quickly, meeting your eyes. her pupils were blown and she watched in awe as you got on your knees in front of her. you slid your hands up her thighs to tease the edge of her waistband. her cigarette was long forgotten as she stared down at you with wide eyes and parted lips.

you kissed her clothed thigh and smiled. 

she was breathless, staring down at you with her mouth agape. with a nervous, light laugh she looked around the backyard and stuttered. “shit, babe. people—someone could see or hear—“

“then don’t let them.” you snapped. pulling at the tie of her sweatpants. that seemed to shut her up enough. 

your backyard was fenced in and had a border of thick trees. someone could only see the two of you if they were trying to. but surely they could hear ellie if they stepped outside. she had a cute habit of not being able to control herself.

you pulled both her pants and boxers down at the same time. just enough so you could spread her legs and dip your head down into her cunt. she eagerly helped you, fighting the elastic to make sure you had enough access.

this was no night to make her wait. 

you kissed up her slit, letting her get just an idea of how it felt, before sliding your tongue through her folds.

she moaned and let her head fall back. you smiled against her, exhaling to tease. your tongue flicked against her pearl, having her nearly slip off the chair, and you kept going.

you rolled your lips over her sensitive bud, sucking it into your mouth and then kissing her. you were slow and loving, giving attention to every inch of her. your hands massaged circles into her upper thighs, urging them to spread as much as they could. she would've been a fool not to listen.

she had her hand gripping the top of your head and moving it how she wanted. part of her force was trying to push you further down to hide you, but more of it was getting leverage to rock her hips and fuck your face. 

she was stuttering in her act to play it cool. her elbow rested on the arm rest, hands clasped over her mouth as she forced her eyes to keep from rolling back. a heavy blush had spread across her face and her legs were shaking. they squeezed around your head as you sucked her clit into your mouth. 

with the extravagance of her reactions, you knew she needed this. every tense bone and muscle in her body was relaxing. you reached up under her sweatshirt with one hand to massage her tit. you rolled your finger over her nipple, feeling it pebble as you rolled it between your fingers.

she bit her lip and whined, rocking her hips faster as her hand fell from her mouth to grip the chair. she still held your head close and steady, flinching and moaning every time you took her clit in between your lips.

"fuck, baby, don't stop," she cried. she lost her breath. "please, don't stop."

her whiny voice sent pleasure down to your core. you were growing wet in your own underwear, pressing your thighs together as you kept your steady but rougher pace.

your eyes flicked up to look at her blushing, freckled face. she looked down and met your eyes, and that was it for her. she cried out, tugging at your hair and pressing her cunt against your face to ride out her orgasm.

you guided her through her high, smoothing your hands over her hips and thighs to ease her down from her bliss.

her lips and face were rosy. she took a deep breath, sighing contently as you bit her inner thigh and licked over the mark.

you rested your head on her leg as she ran her fingers through your hair. she was staring out at the trees, still recovering while you smiled to yourself and drew small shapes on her skin.

"ellie," you whispered, giggling. "you okay?"

she nodded and brushed the hair off your forehead. she looked down at you. "let's go upstairs."

you jumped up and grabbed her hand to pull her with you. she was already on you, chasing you to the back door. she caught you just before and pushed you against the wall.

her lips were on yours before you could think. she roughly grabbed your hips, slamming them back before pushing hers into you. you moaned against her lips, dizzy and weak.

her hand fumbled beside you, opening the back door. when it swung open, she rushed to push you in. she had to get you inside. it was consuming her. her vision tunneled on your body as she followed you through the living room and up the stairs. you were stumbling over each other and you got into the bedroom.

she swung the door shut behind her and grabbed you again. everything was happening so fast you could hardly remember where you were standing when she kissed you. she was frantic and rough, grabbing your ass to pull you against her and squeezing to get a moan out of you.

it was a blur of her desperation. one second you had your shirt on, the next, you didn't. your bra, pants, and panties were quick to be tossed aside. she was stripping too and soon she was throwing you into bed and crawling on top.

she was panting, staring down at your face laid perfectly on the pillows. you were dazed, looking up at her with waiting eyes. naked together, you always lost all sense and could only focus on her.

her body folded against yours as you made out. her tongue was tasting every part of your mouth as your breasts pressed to hers. she slid her thigh between your legs and moaned into your lips when she felt how wet you were.

she hummed. "ready for me already?"

you moaned in response, cradling her jaw to draw her back to kissing you. she tasted like heaven. she was getting sloppier, kissing you like she'd never have another chance. her teeth slid over you bottom lip and bit down enough for you to flinch.

you dragged your hands down her chest while she led hers lower. she was rocking your hips against her thigh, getting all of your slick across her skin as she just barely stimulated you. she wanted to tease you. watching you whine and beg was what got her off.

she kissed your neck as she humped her leg against you. with every drag of her hips you get closer and closer to screaming at her to touch you. that was what she wanted.

"ellie..." you sighed. she bit on the sensitive spot of your neck and you lost all your words. for now, that seemed to be enough for her to do what you wanted.

she moved her leg and dipped her fingers between your folds. your slick was enough for her digits to slide inside of you with ease. you moaned and pressed your head into the pillows. ellie stared down at you, watching every reaction as her fingers curled into your cunt.

you wrapped your legs around her and she leaned back down to kiss you. it was useless as every other kiss was interrupted with your whines. she nipped at your lips and went back to your neck as she fucked her fingers into you. she was hitting that sweet, spongy spot every time. she had your legs shaking and nearly falling off of her.

she bit at you ear lobe. "you're gonna take everything I give you, yeah?"

you moaned and nodded. her voice could've been enough to make you cum.

"good."

her other hand moved up and wrapped around your neck. she pressed and held you down into the mattress. she used the leverage to put pressure on your neck and lean back, fingering you rougher now.

you gasped and struggled for breath. it was embarrassing how another wave of pleasure surged to your core as you struggled to breathe.

"today was really fucking shitty, baby, but you're making it all so much better." she tightened her grip and you dizzied. your fingers felt fuzzy and your eyes prickled with tears. "I really, really love watching you like this. you're so pretty when you're gasping, princess."

she was taking her anger out on you. everything she wanted to do to those infected she was doing to you. hell, she could've killed you now if she wanted to. she had you at her mercy, your cunt squeezing around her fingers and your hands gripping her wrist.

any attempt at speaking was lost in your lungs. her fingers curved and fucked you at just the right spot to get you close to your orgasm. she could tell just by the squeezing of you legs around her hips.

she brought her thumb up to rub circles over your clit. "come on. cum for me, sweetheart."

you choked out a moan, eyes rolling back as your orgasm washed over you in waves of pleasure. she kept her fingers hitting that same perfect spot as you saw stars and clawing at her arm. it all lasted enough to make your vision spotty and your cunt clench around her digits.

she released you gently and rubbed the sore skin where she had held you. you took that long breath you had been needing and blinked the tears out of your eyes. she hummed and kissed you cheek, rubbing your thigh. "you alright, baby?"

you took another long breath and nodded. she smirked and kissed the corner of your mouth, adjusting your legs.

before you'd fully recovered, she was hooking one of your legs around her and moving one of hers over your other. she dipped close and rested her core just above yours.

she slid her folds over yours, finding the right spot to have her clit rubbing against yours. you cried from the overstimulation, gripping her shoulders and digging your nails into her back.

she stared down at the joining of your bodies, rolling her hips over and over again to feel your bud hit hers.

she had one hand holding your thigh and the other arm propped on her elbow beside your head. her face was hot and blushed, lips parted as she moaned softly and breathed heavily.

your eyes pinched shut as the pleasure turned from too much to just what you needed.

she was focusing on her needs. she was using you as a fuck toy to get herself off. that should not have made you as wet as it did. but you pushed your hips up to meet hers, matching her rhythm. you had her biting her lip and sinking her head to your collar.

both of you were overstimulated and close. her legs were shaking, trying to hold her up as she drew herself closer to orgasm. she upped her pace, harshly fucking her cunt against yours. you could hear her whispering vague words but they were lost in your skin. she was unreachable, chasing her high as she led you to yours as well.

"cum with me, baby," she muttered, "please, I need it." her words cut off into a moan as you led your hand down to squeeze her ass. with your hand encouraging her hips, she screamed and came. in her frantic search for pleasure, she brought you to finish and you came with her.

you both were a heaving, blissful mess of easing down from your climaxes. ellie collapsed on top of you, resting her head on your shoulder and rubbing your waist.

your hands found her hair and you ran your fingers through it. your chest heaved and fell with every recovering breath. you stared at the ceiling, unsure of how the night turned around so quickly.

what was once a lust-filled room was now one of comfort and silence. you lay together for eternity, you stroking her hair and her leaving light kisses on your collarbone.

eventually, she climbed off of you to clean up, coming back to wipe you off. when she was done, she got back into bed with you and you held her. her body curved into yours and you could tell she had shut her eyes.

"i love you," you muttered, kissing the back of her neck.

she sighed. "i love you too. and I'm sorry."

you shushed her. "everything's okay, baby. just go to sleep now."

she nodded, burying her face into her pillow.

note: sorry for not posting, i was on vacation and we had no wifi :( anyway, i love love love ellie. and to my friend who was on vacation with me and watched me write this, you slay hope you liked it. i also hope your phone is fixed.

tag list:

@archangeldyke-all, @cacston, @sevsarm, @sevsbaby @maneskinwh0re

@orangepeelz1324

[themultifanshipper]

Could you do ⚫️ with oscar

Oscar could hardly believe his eyes.

He was halfway across the world, in a meeting, staring at the thumbnail of a video that you'd just sent him.

Warnings: Sex tape(technically), masturbation, male and female, use of toys, a dildo specifically, dirty talk, mention on reader being innocent, and slight corruption?

Requested from my prompt list

He'd almost clicked on the video out of habit before his brain caught up to his eyes and he realised you were on the thumbnail, and there was very little fabric on your body.

He slammed his phone face down in his lap, and tried to contain the redness forming on his cheeks, as well as the hardness forming in his shorts.

He completely ignored the rest of the meeting, mind racing and trying to comprehend what he'd just seen.

You'd never done anything like this before, always keeping your sex life firmly between the walls of your bedroom.

Not that he was complaining, you were so sweet and innocent, it really turned him on when he thought of when he'd first met you.

You were so adorably naive, and he'd taken great pleasure in teaching you everything he knew. You were all his to corrupt and mold into his little slut.

But all of that stayed in the bedroom!

You'd never so much as sent a dirty text. Never mind a whole video of you doing god knows what while he was at work.

It was too late now, he was hard. And the meeting wasn't going to end anytime soon.

So he did what any rational horny man would do, he grabbed his phone, excused himself from the meeting and rushed to the bathroom to watch that video.

And what a video it was. Barely 10 seconds in, his shorts were already pulled down around his thighs and his cock was leaking into his fist.

“Hey baby, I hope you're having a good day at work” you purred.

The sound was turned down low but it seemed like the loudest thing in the universe to Oscar.

“I know you must feeling lonely at the moment so I decided to show you what I get up to when you're gone…”

Oscar was throbbing in his hand. He took a quick look at the time stamp, 00:24/08:56.

Holy fucking shit, no way was he going to last nine minutes.

You went to sit on the edge of the bed and he got a good look at you for the first time.

You were wearing a set of papaya lingerie. The bra was beautifully intricate, but it hid absolutely nothing, your nipples on display as your hands ran across your skin and went up to pinch them.

What caught his eye though, was your panties. Your crotchless panties.

Oscar felt a drop of precum slide down his cock that he refused to touch, lest he come too soon and ruin this experience.

“Do you like the set? I got it the day after you left. I already missed you so much I wanted something that reminded me of you.”

Oscar couldn't help it, he took himself in hand and squeezed lightly, just to take the edge off.

You climbed onto the bed and spread your legs. Even in the dim lighting, he could tell you were wet and god, you were going to be the death of him.

One of your hands trailed down your stomach and came to rest just above your shiny slit.

“Look Oscar, look how fucking wet you make me and you're not even here… it's pathetic”

Your hand went lower, to spread your folds for him, just to drive Oscar mad. And unbeknownst to you it was succeeding beautifully and then some.

Oscar growled at the sight, gripping himself harder.

Your fingers rubbed through your folds, wetting them just like he always did, before bringing them to your mouth for a taste.

Fuck.

Oscar glanced at the time again Only 2 and half minutes in? how was that possible, he felt like he'd been staring at your pussy for an hour now.

Or maybe he'd accidentally paused the video to stare at the work of art that was laying on his bed.

“I taste so sweet, no wonder you love spending so much time between my legs”

Your hand went back down to circle your entrance before dipping inside, and you let out a low gasp at the intrusion.

Oscar blacked out somewhere between that and the third finger, only realising he'd missed anything when you took your fingers out and sucked them clean, while maintaining intense eye contact with the camera.

Oscar was about to combust, and he'd also seemingly forgotten about his dick as his hand tightened suddenly and he groaned at the sight of you quickly getting off the bed.

Was it over?

He frowned and checked the time. The video was only just over half way through…

“Now for something I think you'll really enjoy…”

You pulled out of the bedside drawer what Oscar realised with a start was… a dildo.

Where the fuck had you been hiding that? He had no idea you owned it.

You grabbed some lube as well and it dawned on Oscar that this was why the panties were crotchless.

You were going to fuck yourself with a dildo on camera wearing his colour.

Fuck, he was so in love with you.

And he was so incredibly hard for you.

You lubed up the dildo and hovered over it, ready to sink down, when you stopped and looked up at the camera.

It felt like time had stopped for Oscar, he felt like you were staring straight into his soul as you uttered your next words.

“By the way Osc, I had this dildo modeled after your cock, so that I could fuck you even when you're not here”

And with that you sank down, and Oscar felt the air being sucked from his lungs, as if he were there and you were actually sinking down on him.

You moaned so loud it echoed against the tiled walls of the small bathroom and Oscar had to check the sound level on his phone.

You lifted your hips and dropped back down, a guttural sound escaping you as you threw your head back and kept moving your hips up and down.

Oscar spat into his hand and started jerking himself off furiously, eyes glued to where your cunt was split around the silicone.

“Oscar… you feel so fucking good. I love your cock so much.”

Oscar could tell you were close by the way your thighs trembled and your breathing got shallower.

“Fuck Osc, I'm not gonna last long…”

“Me neither, baby” he whispered “touch yourself for me, make yourself come on my cock”

You obviously couldn't hear him, but as if you'd read his mind your fingers went down your body and started vigorously rubbing your clit, letting out little cut off moans on every roll of your hips .

“Oscar!” you came with a cry of his name and that sent him over the edge as he did his best to aim into the toilet bowl, but he came so hard he actually crumpled and had to hold himself up to not fall on the floor.

The video ended and put itself back to the beginning.

He scrambled to turn it off as his post nut clarity hit and he realised where he was and how loud he'd probably been.

And because the universe was a bitch, a sudden knock rang against the door and Lando's voice pierced right through Oscar's inner peace.

“Mate, I know you miss your girlfriend but I really didn't deserve to hear that”

“Piss off” Oscar groaned and Lando cackled before sauntering off, laughter echoing through the corridor.

Oscar looked at his phone and noticed that you'd just sent him another text.

“did you enjoy my gift? ;) ”

It was out of the question to let you know exactly how much it had affected him so he took a deep steadying breath and typed out a short response.

“I can't believe you made a sextape… Without me :( “

[lemonlover1110]

𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐕𝐄

Toji Fushiguro

Pairing: Toji Fushiguro x f!Reader

Summary: Your boyfriend gets a little too jealous after catching some jerk staring at you. Of course, he has to remind you who you belong to.

Warnings: MDNI, Jealous!Toji, Possessiveness, Smut, Vaginal Fingering, Oral Sex (f. receiving), Vaginal Sex, Spitting, Creampie, Breeding Kink, Toji is a bit violent and a bit of a jerk but we still love him

10k Event Masterlist

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi

Toji absolutely hates going out with you lately, not because he finds you annoying but the fact that all eyes are on you. You always look so stunning, and he hates all the men that dare to look your way– But he can’t blame them. It’s hard not to look your way when your makeup is flawless, your hair is cutely styled, and when you show the right amount of skin to make a man go wild.

“What’s wrong, babe?” You ask him, watching as Toji’s eyes glare at someone else in the place. You’re supposed to be out with friends, having some fun and talking since you barely have the time to meet up with them, catch up with them. But Toji isn’t paying any attention to them as they talk.

“Oh… Okay.” You do as he says, pouting your lip so he feels some sort of remorse for talking to you in that tone. He’s not even looking at you though. He gets up from his seat, and you watch as he approaches another table. He slams his hand on the wood surface of the other table, and you can only assume he has a stern tone of voice while speaking. You anxiously bounce your leg, watching your boyfriend as he does– Whatever he’s doing.

“Toji–” You find yourself taken back, watching as your boyfriend grabs the back of some man’s head and slams it on the table. You rush over to him, and ask, “What the fuck are you doing?”

All your friends are looking at you. Everyone is. You would be extremely embarrassed if you weren’t so worried that your boyfriend is suddenly acting this way. 

“If I catch you looking at my girlfriend again, I will crush your skull.” Toji says through gritted teeth, and you hate the fact that you find this so fucking hot. Your legs are almost giving out. Toji lets go, and he grabs your hand, dragging you out of the place.

“Toji, calm down.” You tell him, following him to his car. When you get to it, he finally lets go of your hand and begins to walk to the driver’s side, but you grab his hand again. “I know you’re jealous, but don’t take it out on me.”

“I’m not taking it out on you.” He responds, and he forces you to let go. You do, and you wait for him to open the passenger door. You get into the car, and he quietly begins to drive. His hands hold on tight to the steering wheel, his jaw clenched. You cross your arms, irritated that he’s mad at you because you did nothing.

“What the hell did I do? Be too pretty?” You scoff, and Toji’s hand goes to your lap. He squeezes your thigh, and you roll your eyes at him. He’s not looking your way. “You could be nicer to me, I’m not at fault that men stare at me. Gauge their eyes out or something.”

“I was going to but you came running after me because apparently you can’t spend a minute alone.” Toji argues back.

“You’re so dramatic.” You mutter, and he hears you loud and clear. You sit in silence for a minute, and you feel his hand hike up your skirt. His finger hooks under your panties, and he begins to lower them until he realizes how much of a hassle that is while he’s trying to drive. His hand ends up going over your clothed cunt, and he begins to rub circles over your sensitive area.

You begin to squeeze your legs while Toji toys with you. He’s doing everything that is enough to drive you wild, and you’re about to push your panties to the side so you feel more than just the friction of your panties. But Toji slaps your hand.

“No.” He says, and you almost whine, but you know that won’t end well. Of course he’s acting like a fucking bitch, you didn’t expect any less from a jealous Toji. You almost push his hand away as he works you up. But you let it happen until he’s outside your home.

“We’re going inside this home and you’re going to fuck me up. Stop acting like a fucking brat.” You tell him, pushing his hand away. You walk out of the car and enter the home before him. You undress yourself when you’re in your room, stripping to your underwear. You wait for him on the bed, and when you see him walk in, he looks livid. 

You have to suppress the smile that comes to your lips when you watch Toji get on the bed, getting on top of you. His hand wraps around your throat, and he brings his lips down to meet yours. His tongue enters your mouth and presses against your own. Your hands begin to unbutton his shirt until every button is undone.

He pulls away from the kiss, his lips trailing down, going to your neck and sucking on that spot that makes you weak. A soft moan leaves your lips. Toji kisses down until your panties get in the way. He pushes them to the side and kisses your clit.

He begins by kissing your cunt then licking up your folds. His tongue then focuses on your clit.

Two fingers begin to tease your entrance. You’re looking down at his hair while he eats you out. Your fingers run through his hair, and you grip when he finally inserts his thick fingers inside of you. Your fingers really can’t compare to his. 

Toji begins to hum, telling you how he’s enjoying this. He fucking loves the taste that’s on his tongue, it’s the only reason he’s doing this. He shouldn’t be eating you out after all the trouble you’ve put him through.

He curves his fingers, letting you know how much he knows your body. No man could ever compare to him. The pads of his fingers press against your sweet spot, and it causes your eyes to roll to the back of your head. 

“Oh, Toji, it’s so good.” You moan. His free hand goes to your thigh and his nails dig into your skin as you moan his name. It doesn’t take too long for your orgasm to build up, that pressure builds up on your lower abdomen.

He sucks on your clit, and he moves his fingers just right until you finally reach your peak. When you loudly moan his name, he detaches himself from your cunt, taking his fingers out, and goes back to your face. He pushes your bottom lip down until you open your mouth. He takes the opportunity to spit in your mouth.

“If he knew what you do for me, then maybe he’d stop staring.” He comments, and you’re lost until you realize he’s talking about the man in the bar. That was the last thought in your mind.

Toji pushes your legs up to your chest before he unbuckles his belt. He takes his cock out, running the tip through your folds. He slaps it on your cunt a couple of times before he asks, “You want this, baby? You want my cock?”

“Please.” You respond in a whiny voice. He chuckles.

“I shouldn’t. You were just being so fucking mean.” Toji says, pushing two fingers into your mouth, and he pushes them far so you gag on them. You end up biting down on them, and a smirk comes to his lips. He pushes his cock inside of you, slowly stretching you out. No matter how many times Toji fucks you, it’s always too much for you to handle.

When he bottoms out, he gives you a couple of seconds to adjust before he begins to move in and out of you. The man loves this position, allowing him to reach deeper and it feels so fucking good. There’s nothing Toji loves more than to feel your tight little cunt wrapped around his cock.

He takes his fingers out of your mouth, not muffling the moans that leave your lips. Toji hits every right spot, and it drives you wild. Nobody can or will compare to Toji.

“It’s so fucking good, Toji” You moan, your hand moving down to play with your clit while Toji relentlessly thrust in and out of your cunt. It’s hard for Toji to control himself when your cunt feels so good around him. He slowly loses control.

Jealousy rushes through him, as well as possessiveness. He needs to mark you as his but he doesn’t know how– Knocking you up. That’s the only way

“Oh, fuck, Toji!” You moan, your back arches as you take it all. He hits all the right spots and it’s driving you insane. 

“I need to make you a mommy.” He says, one hand goes down to play your clit. Your walls begin to squeeze around him, and he swears he’s in heaven. It fuels his jealousy even more, because some fucking idiot thought that he could get away with being with you. Toji would kill every man on Earth before losing you.

“Fuck!” You get louder and louder, and you feel as your second orgasm approaches. Toji doesn’t slow down either.

“Let me knock you up, please, baby.” He sounds whiny as he begs, and you get tighter around him with his every word. You moan loudly as you finally reach your climax, and he nearly comes right there but he can contain himself. “Please, please, please.”

“I’m gonna– Fuck, Toji!” Your eyes are rolling to the back of your head. Your cunt begins to clench around him, squeezing as your orgasm approaches until it finally washes over you. 

“Gonna knock you up, baby.” He says, having made up his mind. You’re going to have his baby after all, and you’re certainly not complaining. You’ll give Toji all the babies that he wants. “Need to see you big and round with my baby. You’re mine, right? You’ll let me do that?”

“Yes, Toji!” Your fucked out brain doesn’t take a second to process the question. Even if the question had been asked an hour ago, you would’ve agreed. You would do just about anything for Toji. 

His thrusts get unregulated, and it doesn’t take too long for Toji to come inside of you. His seed fills you up, your cunt milking him for each drop. You absolutely love every drop of it.

Toji’s lips go down to meet yours, and when he pulls away he lays down beside you. He hugs you and you assure him, “You don’t have to be so jealous. You know I’m all yours.”

“I still want a baby to show off.”

[imsilay]

I love your stalker König, have you considered writing about him kidnapping the reader?

Kidnapping them, locking them in his home so that when he comes back from his missions he can play “house” and “make love to his little wife”. Age gap is also always so good 🩷

IT WAS ON MY MIND BUT WHEN YOU REQUESTED IT I HAD TO WRITE ilysm <3

SOAR

NSFW! mdni +18, cw: kidnapping, obsessive behavior, fem!reader, König is a fucking delusional, riding, fingering.

word count: 2k

summary: Your sweet captor König fucking you after coming back to home from a long mission.

next part here

art cr: yashk_pucyet on twt

An ominous whistle echoed through the hall as he made his way to the front door of his apartment. The way he walked, his hands on his pockets and long steps, told how delighted he was to finally be back home. Other soldiers were already at the bar, celebrating their victory. But for him it was different. He didn’t wanted alcohol and woman. He wanted you. That was why he was rushing to home. He couldn’t wait to see his sweet wife, to worship his prize, to use his pet. He was aching to have you in his arms, your legs wrapped around his waist as he did basically everything in the house. He was clingy yes. He knew it but didn’t care. You were his already. So that meant he could do anything he wanted with you.

He already had his keys when he arrived at the door. Impatiently unlocking the door and kicking his shoes off. He closed and locked the door. A wont. “I’m back meine Königin.” he said not too loudly. He wouldn’t want to startle you because it was midnight and he knew you didn’t like loud noises. He walked through living room, it was designed simple; a couch and a tv unit with some plants, he could buy better but it was safe if it was small and basic. The door of your shared bedroom opened as he decided to stay silent in case you were sleeping. His heart hammer his chest when he saw your sleeping form in his bed. the sheets covered some of your body but the way your pajama pants was slid up exposing your soft thigh made his head spin.

See? He didn’t need any alcohol, you were intoxicating enough for him. “Meine Königin.” he purred as he quickly took of his gear and other clothes until he was just in his boxers. His mask was thrown away for him to find tomorrow. He climbed on the bed next to you. His massive body took the majority of the space but he wasn’t complaining. This way you were more close with him.

He gently turned your body towards him and took a sharp breath when he saw you wasn’t wearing any bra. “Nein, i should let you sleep. I don’t want my wife to be mad at me.” he mumbled as he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you onto his chest. “I missed you so much, meine Königin.” he whispered and kissed your cheek. You clinged to his body unconsciously for more warmth. The way your body pressed against his -especially the feeling of your breasts underneath your t-shirt- made him want to take you there but he has to be patient. Until you wake up and notice his presence.

Well… He wasn’t a patient man. Not after witnessing how easily can people die. If he wanted something, he had to have it right then. That was why he kidnapped you. You, his innocent little girl, so young and naive. It wasn’t hard to gain your trust, you loved everyone. He just waited until you were independent from your family and had your own life. New friends, new neighbors, new job… It all made you feel like you were in a dream. Everything was too perfect. Until one day you heard a loud noise in your house then everything went black. That was when he took you for himself. The first year was like hell. You were constantly trying to escape, breaking everything in the house and throwing fits. But could you really do anything to harm him? That mountain of a man? He could kill everyone who was in his way. And unfortunately the destination was you. It was almost pitiful that how desperate he was for you. He didn’t really hurt or hit you. Even when you tried to escape he just found you and brought you back to his house. In his words “Our home.”

“Maus.” he purred as his hand slide underneath your t-shirt caressing your waist. His lips inches away from yours aching to capture them. Your eyes opened slowly when you felt and heard him. “I’m home.” he mumbled as he brushed his lips against your cheek. When you finally processed what was going on you tried to move away immediately. “Let go of me!” you scowled and pushed him by his chest. He chuckled lightly and pulled you back to your position on his chest. “The harder you push me, the harder i will pull you back.” he whispered and kissed your cheek. “As much as i love your spirit, i’m tired, Maus.” his voice was giving away how tired he was. Yet there was more. You knew it. “What do you want from me?” you mumbled as you stopped squirming. Your heart was beating like crazy, you knew you had no chance against him. “I want you to love me. But i know it’s too much to ask. I don’t deserve you, meine Königin.” your heart ache for a moment. But then you remembered that he was your captor. Your heart filled with rage again. He smiled softly and caressed your waist. “But you know the other thing i want.” his hand squeezed your waist and his lips brushed against your chin. His lips kissing you wherever he could reach, but your lips.

He still haven’t kissed you since he kidnapped you. He would fuck you until you can’t remember your name but that was it. He told you the reason why he didn’t kissed you during a vulnerable moment of his. He was listening to your heartbeat after a nightmare and speaking to you even if you just caressed his hair and didn’t answered him. “I want to kiss you so bad, Maus. I really do. But i don’t want to ruin you. I’m just a pathetic man who is trying to make you love me. So, i want you to kiss me when you love me.” that was his sweet words before he eat you out. Ironic, isn’t it?

A soft sigh escaped from your lips when he kissed your neck and his hand down your body. “I want you to ride me. I want you to sit on my cock like it’s your throne, meine Königin.” he whispered as he grounded his hard on against your clothed cunt. You whimpered when you felt his hard cock against your stomach. He was away from home for a month and you haven’t since done anything for yourself. So you were already wet for him. “You should take care of your husband~” he purred. “You’re not my husband. You’re just a psycho.” you moaned as he kissed the sensitive skin of your neck. “I suggest you to choose your words wisely, Maus.” he mumbled and bit your shoulder as a warning. “And how could you deny me when you’re this wet f’me, hm?” he chuckled lightly after pushing his fingers into your panties making you shudder and moan. His fingers found your clit and started rubbing it slowly. Making you wetter and ready for him. Your head dropped to his shoulder and small moans escaped from your lips. He groaned when your hot breath hit his neck. His neck was the most sensitive spot on his body. Were you doing it on purpose? Knowing how he cum in his pants when you kissed him on the neck first time?

“Maus stop- i want to cum inside you.” he mumbled and with a quick maneuver you were sitting on top of his crotch. He groaned and his hips buck upwards to meet yours. The thin fabric of your underwears did nothing. He still felt how wet and warm you were. You also whined and rock your hips. You were so desperate for a release and he was the only thing in hand. Your attempts to satisfy yourself was failed because he made you addicted to his big and thick cock, your small fingers weren’t enough. One of your hands rested on his chest as you tugged down your underwear with other. “Scheiße, Maus.” his cock twitched in his boxers at the sight. He knew you wanted him as much as he do. And it made him go feral. But he managed to stay still and watched you. You were aching for his cock but it wouldn’t fit if you weren’t opened enough. Your gaze dropped to his hands on your waist. You took one of his hands and he raised an eyebrow with curiosity but he let you lead it whenever you wanted. You took his middle and ring finger inside your mouth and moaned. Your head spun from just thinking about having it inside your tight cunt. He felt like he was having a heart attack when you sucked and covered his thick and lengthy fingers with your salvia. He let you do all the work as you grounded against his clad cock and wet his fingers. When you took his fingers out of your mouth and gave him a desperate look, he knew what you wanted. So he stuck his fingers into your dripping hole making you whimper and buck your hips. “Just like that, Maus. Ride my fingers.” he fingered your little hole as his free hand supported you by your waist. “So verdammt süß.” he hissed and picked up the pace. His fingers effortlessly finding all the spots in your tight cunt. “You’re so tight, Maus. Did you wait for me like a good wife, hm?” he mumbled as he felt you were close and added another finger. You whined and your walls clenched around his thick fingers. You cum unannounced and he groaned when you cum with just his fingers. “König.” you whimpered and your hands grabbed his forearms when he pulled his fingers out. “I know it’s not enough meine Königin.” he cooed and lifted you up a little to free his precum leaking cock. He didn’t even had the patience to take off his boxers fully. He positioned you on his cock and let you take it in slowly, giving you time to adjust his size. He groaned when your walls sucked him in greedily. “Guess someone missed me.” he mumbled and caressed your hips while you sit on his cock. “Here. Right here is where you belong, Maus.” he grabbed you by hips and made you bounce on his cock. His head tipped back and he let out a low groan. He was living for this moment. When he’s on a mission he would count the days until he meet you again. His beautiful wife.

This position allowed him to be deep inside you and it made you even more desperate. Your moans and whines filled the room as he mercilessly bounced you up and down on his cock. The tip of his cock hit your cervix and you whimpered. “König it’s too deep.” you dug your nails into his forearms. He groaned and picked up the pace. It wasn’t like you were riding him anymore. He was slamming you down on his cock with his giant strength. “Slow down!” you whimpered when he hit your cervix again. “Admit that i’m your husband. Then i will consider.” he growled as he fucked you mercilessly. “Fuck-“ you cried when he didn’t even slow down a bit. “You’re my husband, König. Please.” you managed to say. “Braves Mädchen.” he purred and slowed down just a bit. “Say it again.” he slapped your hips and smirked delightfully. His big hand covered your hips as he slammed his hips into yours rapidly. You slurred that he was your husband over and over until he finally cum deep inside you. He rubbed your clit so you cum along with him.

You collapsed on his chest as he pulled out his cock. His semen dripped from your hole and you buried your head into his neck. You hated him so much for ruining your life but you were also desperate to have his love and affection. “Meine Königin.” he cooed and rubbed your back in small circles. “We’re not finished.” he kissed your forehead when you protested with a whine.

a/n: please support me by reblogging, if you liked the content ofc <3 your comments also makes my day :* and i try to reply all of them :>

also i post everyday -sometimes 2 posts in a day- so if you follow me i won’t disappoint ;)

i promise i will write the stalker x stalker after this lol

if you liked this story you’ll love this

[awordsmith]

if we had known 𝜗𝜚 s.r

۶ৎ in which you and Spencer are best friends, and have never crossed that line because you're in love with him and he's in love with JJ–or so you think.

katcember

who? spencer reid x bau!reader when? s7 category: angst content warnings: proofed! right person wrong time(?), unrequited love, false depiction of therapy (really just the quickness and no evaluation), past to present, depression, broken to mending friendship, jealousy, envy, Spencer's addiction, lots of crying (prepare yourself), personal growth, reid with care word count: 9.4k a/n: it made me cry. a lot. enjoy!

Wind had been blowing through your hair, you had worn a long-sleeve and yet it was still cold–it was December, the constant downpour should've made you think twice before you'd left, but it hadn't, and you were freezing. Maybe you should have brought a jacket, that would have been ideal, but you were running late, and you were never late, so you had been rushing.

You remembered the clouds darkening that night, you weren't afraid of the dark, apparently, as Spencer had mentioned, but of the things that could be lurking. Hotch was staying late, per usual, and the others had already gone home for the night, so Spencer had offered to walk you to your car.

He was nice like that, which is why you'd considered him your best friend. You hadn't had many outside of the BAU, some acquaintances at best–and though you had been incredibly close to the other members on your team, Spencer was different. You had always supposed it was due to the fact that you were the closest in age.

He had been 26 at the time, and you were just a year younger. That was the year you had joined the team, at the ripe age of 25, whereas he had been with the team for 4 years prior to you. He was the youngest known member to join the Bureau, and working with him, you were able to see why.

He was incredible in almost everything he did, you loved listening to him rant, it was mesmerizing the way someone could be so passionate about so many different and unrelated things, the way he knew so much about nothing and everything. You'd known it was mainly his eidetic memory, but it had still been fascinating. You couldn't help the way you'd analyze the way he spoke nor could you fail to notice the other team members energy toward his rambling. It annoyed you a little, but you had been new and hadn't wanted to say anything.

In your own way though, you'd been able to show him you cared, "go on," you'd murmur in a low voice, a small smile grazing your lips. He used to look at you contemplative. The first time you'd said it, you'd almost wished you could take it right back. The others had looked at you like you might have been mad, and maybe at some point you were; if it were maddening to want to listen to someone speak, then you would've concluded that, yes, you were indeed mad.

"Thank you," you'd said as you got to your car, spinning on your heels, smiling up at him.

"Any time," he had chirped, hands in his pockets, "hey, there's this showing, it's in Italian and there are no subtitles, but I can whisper you the translations, if you...wanted to go..." he'd scratched the back of his head, it was the first time he'd invited you out. It wasn't a date, you'd known this because you'd heard him ask the others about it before, most of the time he was shut down and you'd had to cover your snickers because as sad as it was, it had also always been somewhat funny, their responses and expressions–and the way Spencer never look disappointed, but rather confused and sometimes even expectant.

"I'd love to-o-o," you'd shivered, grabbing your arm and rubbing it up and down.

"Oh, are you cold?" He'd frowned, concerned. He'd pulled his satchel off and had sat it atop your car's trunk. He'd shrugged of his sweater, it was his favorite at the time, the brown, plaid one. He'd worn it more than he spoke, which was saying something, you remembered smiling at the thought as he'd handed it over to you.

You were stunned, you had never dated anyone before, so this treatment hadn't been normal for you. Though with Spencer, things always seemed to be everything but ordinary.

He had grabbed your bag as you'd slipped into his sweater, dainty as it had been, it did the job. It smelled like him, like too-sweet coffee and paper, or maybe that was old books, it could've been both, he never was seen without one or the other.

"Thank you," you'd smiled up at him, taking your bag back, watching as he'd pulled his satchel back over his shoulder. The wind picked up again, but his sweater kept you warm, "again."

He'd nodded, "as I said, any time, it looks better on you anyway," you'd returned his nod, suppressing the grin that would have no doubt escaped you if didn't know Spencer was Spencer, if you were strangers, perhaps.

"So, the movie, where do you want to meet?"

He'd grabbed the strap of his satchel, eyebrows raised in slight disbelief, "you–want to go? Really?"

"Yep," you'd nodded, eyes lighting up, "I have a personal translator, not many people can say that. I'm special," you'd said dramatically, but pride had slipped through, and you were sure he'd noticed it, even if he'd omitted to say anything.

He'd snorted, "I don't come free."

That was the moment you'd known, that no matter how hard you'd try detaching your heart, losing him would hurt–it'd hurt in ways you'd kept yourself from imagining. Coming to this conclusion, making up your mind hadn't been all that hard, it was simple–really; you would just never lose him.

That same year, Spencer had been kidnapped by an unsub, who'd later be identified as Tobias Hankel. Words couldn't express how angry you were at JJ. You'd lashed out when you'd found out he was missing, Morgan had to hold you back from, from that point you had lost all control of your emotions and it was the first time you hadn't been scared to lose your job. You had been terrified of what he was going through, you hadn't even a clue as to where he was or if he was still alive. But he has to be, you remembered thinking.

It had almost drove you to complete depression, thoughts of uncovering his body in the most gruesome way, thoughts of him being a body and not Spencer, the genius who could ramble on and on about almost anything, who'd given you his sweater when you were cold, who'd whispered translations into your ear–it was unthinkable, and to this day it still brought you to tears when you thought about it.

When the live videos of him began popping up on the screens in the living room, Hotch had ordered you to stay in another room.

He'd noticed the way you'd began to look at Reid, how you watched him speak and encourage him to do it more often around you. He'd never say it out loud because he knew you and Spencer were both adults and would never cross that boundary, but he just couldn't bring himself to let you see Spencer like that. Gideon seemed to agree.

You'd been angry at him, of course–you were angry at the world. It's how he'd feel if something like that ever happened to Haley or Jack, he hadn't blamed you, but he had still needed you to be at your best, and you had already been deteriorating with the knowledge of Spencer's kidnapping, seeing those videos–him in that state–it would have ultimately broke you, and you were so young; he hadn't known then, if he could have pulled you back from that.

Finding Spencer alive was the only thing that saved you from a catastrophic end. You would have brought down the door with you bare hands had it not been for Hotch kicking it down for you. When you found he wasn't there, you'd run out, passed the other's shouting, "they have to be on foot, they can't be far."

Gun out, you were the first to approach, some part of your mind had taken over and you'd realized doing this by yourself wasn't rational nor professional, even if it was Spencer. He had been right there, so close, and yet so far. "I'm moving in," you'd told Gideon and Hotch, when they'd finally caught up.

No one said anything as you'd moved forward, guns trained on whatever might have been in front of you. It'd been dark, you'd had your flashlight above your gun when a shot rang through, you'd screamed and had ran towards it. The rest of the team followed close behind. Spencer had been leaning over Tobias, mumbling to him.

Hotch had stepped in front of you to help Spencer get to his feet as you'd stopped to watch, unable to physically move forward. Tears sprang in your eyes as the team began asking if he was alright. When Hotch had confirmed this, he'd glanced at you and frowned, turning back to Spencer for a brief moment to pat him on the back before walking away. Spencer had turned to you–or at least you thought he had. JJ had moved forward to your side hesitantly, but Spencer instantly captured her in a hug.

Your heart dropped and you felt some type of way, though you hadn't wanted to admit it to yourself at the time, there'd been a strong distaste for JJ in that moment, strong and yet it hadn't just been anger, it had been envy. You'd known it was envy because jealousy stemmed from something you had, and you did not have Spencer the way JJ did.

"I am so sorry," she'd said, and guilt had ran up your spine. How could you have felt such a terrible way toward her when she'd probably been punishing and blaming herself for everything he'd been going through? The worst part however, was that though you may have been closer to Spencer than anyone else on the team, he'd always have that bond with JJ; she'd known him first–and that was something you couldn't compete with.

When they'd pulled away, he'd glanced at Gideon and smiled painfully, but then his eyes had turned on you, and a nervousness that hadn't been there before spread across you like fire in a forest.

"Hey," he'd mumbled.

"Shut up," you'd wrapped your arms around him and buried your face in his chest. He had smelled horrible, alcohol and another scent you wouldn't recognize until later.

He'd chuckled and you had heard the aching in it as he'd wrapped an arm around you, the other had gone to your hair, smoothing it downward, "I didn't say anything."

"What did I say," you'd pulled away, eyes red and rimmed, tear streaks smudged slightly on his dirty shirt.

He'd gave you one of those impeccable smiles, the ones he'd come to find could always get him out of trouble with you, you hated it, but despite yourself it still worked. He'd lifted his head then, to someone behind you, it was Morgan, his own eyes looking just as haunted.

Morgan had followed Gideon toward the cars after a shared silence. You'd helped Spencer limp back to the car, "you can put your full weight on me, I can handle it," you'd said, huffing.

He'd snorted and winced right after, "I know, you can handle anything." You'd smiled to yourself, then had frowned when Spencer stopped moving suddenly. You'd slid your eyes across his face, afraid he'd had some internal wound, one he couldn't mentally feel, but then his eyes–serious and captivating–stopped your wondering, and his voice had trembled when he'd whispered, "thank you."

Your throat had went dry and the rawness that'd laced your tone said everything and nothing at all, "any time."

He'd gotten addicted, anyone with half a brain could've seen it. You'd wanted to mention it, you'd wanted to bring it up, you just hadn't known how. Everyone on the team had seemed to want to ignore it, or, like you they'd had no idea how to bring it up without triggering him.

But you would. Your movie nights had ceased, after he'd been released from the hospital, you'd wanted him to take it easy, you'd never once thought that would've been the result. What the hell had happened? What had you not seen? What in this tragic world had he'd been going through on those live videos?

You had kept biting your tongue, but eventually, it had got to a point where you just couldn't stand to see him like that nor could you stand to sit idly by like the others and pretend like nothing was wrong.

Unannounced, you'd shown up at his place, should you have been there? You didn't think to care, a knock, then two. As you'd gone in for the third, audible rustling had come from the other side of the door. You had frozen, hands glued to your side like a cheerleader at default. His face when he'd opened the door looked horrible, he'd probably been just been asleep, it was a Sunday after all, a once in a lifetime Sunday where you hadn't been called in, a miracle, really; were it not for that Sunday, you just might have chickened out.

"Hey," you'd smiled, rubbing your hand over your arm nervously. "How–are you feeling?"

You hadn't bee able to see half of his body as he'd been leaning halfway out the door. You'd been to his apartment a few times prior, sometimes to pick him up, sometimes you'd binge movies and shows, but you'd never stayed the night. With how close you were, you were both careful not to cross that boundary–well, it had mostly been you.

You not wanting to make him uncomfortable, you not wanting to accidentally give yourself away by mumbling something in your sleep; you not wanting him to notice it in your eyes on an evening when you were half awake–and he would have, you had absolutely no doubt that he would have.

"I'm okay," his voice was thick, it had been 1 in the afternoon and you hadn't been one to judge, especially when it came to him, especially when you'd considered what he had survived–but it had still clung to you like a shadow, a dark, looming shadow. "What are you doing here?"

Your friend–your best friend–had been in trouble, he hadn't even looked like your friend anymore, he'd been a shell of himself, and if you had been anything, you'd been determined. You'd frowned and pushed your way into his house, "you've been distant," you'd moved your eyes around the space, nose crinkling at the odor, his apartment had been trashed. Cups of noodles had been on every surface, some even on the floor between his couch and coffee table. Blankets scattered the floor and you could remember seeing clothing on the floor in the hall that led all the way to his room. Your chest had squeezed in pain for him.

"Yeah, I've been meaning to," he'd motioned around and had cleared his throat.

"Oh, Spencer," your eyes had softened as he'd shut the door behind him, "I don't know what you've been going through, but I know it's been hard on you."

"You don't know what you're talking about," he'd audibly gulped and had cast his eyes to the floor, having the decency to look a little ashamed.

"Spencer," you'd walked toward him, voice startlingly clear. His eyes had glanced up for a second, then quickly back to the floor. "Spencer," you'd said again, pulling on his wrists, "why haven't you come to me? I know you're hurting, please let me help you."

"Why?" His tone had been clear indifference, his eyes narrowed slightly and when he'd looked at you his face was distrusting.

That was the first time you'd felt a physical crack in your heart. You had never–never–seen him this way, in all the months you'd grown to know him, to appreciate and respect him, never once had he looked at you that way.

"Because you're my friend," you'd pleaded, tears welling up in your eyes.

He'd snatched his arms from you and had turned around with swiftness he'd only ever used in the field, "I think it's time you go."

"Spencer?" You'd called, your voice quiet.

He said nothing as he'd stepped out of your way and had reopened his door, waiting patiently for your exit.

You'd done so, but not without a plan forming in your head. The next day, Monday, you had woken up extra early, gotten ready, and had headed for Spencer's. You hadn't let a single word of his deter you from banging on his door until he'd answered–pushing away the guilt of waking up his neighbors–that day you'd forced him to give you a copy of his house keys.

The day after that, you'd gotten up early again, and using the copy of his house key, had silently slipped into his apartment and hauled him out of bed. You'd took his groaning and shouting and every insult he'd thrown your way under his breath, he didn't mean it, you knew, so you'd always thrown them away as soon as they'd leave his mouth–but sometimes, they'd find you at night when you were in bed and you'd cry yourself to sleep, then you'd get up and go through it all over again for his sake, all for him–but maybe...maybe just a little bit had been selfishly for you.

Hating yourself for knowing that had it been anyone else, you probably would have given up that first day, but it hadn't been anyone else, and you hadn't given up on him. Even if you'd known he was in love with JJ at the time, you wouldn't have done anything differently, because you didn't want to lose him–you couldn't; you had promised yourself.

The following weekend, you'd asked Gideon to let you stay home from the case you and the team had been working on, alluding to the fact it had something to do with Spencer, which thankfully got to him.

While Spencer was away with the team–you'd hoped they would watch out for him, you had to have faith that they had cared enough to do at least that much–you cleaned his apartment. You'd bought materials specifically to tackle the mold threatening to grow. You'd searched up–a lot of what you now knew on how to clean an apartment that had been dormant for a couple months–on the computer in the nearby library. Leave it to Spencer to always make you feel young.

You'd begun with the things you could pick up, separating dirty laundry from garbage via trash bags. The space had garnered a foul smell which you'd noted that first Sunday you'd popped up out of nowhere, but it had eluded your mind when Spencer had asked you why. You'd thought on that moment multiple times, why? Why? You'd sometimes felt like screaming when you were alone, how could he have asked such a stupid question? Of all the things that must have been floating through his thick skull he'd settled on "why"–you'd taken a breath, calming yourself. He couldn't help it, he hadn't expected anyone to care so he acted as if no one did. You hadn't meant to profile him at the time, it had just happened, and if you'd been honest, you hadn't felt sorry. It had been one of your biggest motivators–to show him that someone did in fact care.

Eventually, he'd begun to expect you each morning, and maybe it was a little selfish on his part–maybe–but he'd begun to lean on you, turn to you...a lot more than he should have. At first he'd rationalized it, you'd been persistent, who was he to stop you?

Within a month he'd begun seeing a therapist, he hadn't wanted to take time off of work and admit himself into a facility, doing that had–and still–scared him more than his addiction, it would have meant admitting he was unstable, unable, and that just–well it hadn't been an option.

He'd gotten his life somewhat on track again, thanks to you, it had all been you. He had treated you horribly and you had still cared, had still helped him–admitting himself into an institution not only scared him because of his past, but because the thought of not being able to see you at work everyday, and outside of work whenever he'd wanted was too much to bear, he knew he would have possibly gone mad–and he hadn't wanted to think about what that had meant.

You'd never seen a drunk Spencer before then, the air was chilly, and you'd just left the bar, thanking God Hotch hadn't been there, or he no doubt would have ripped into you for allowing Spencer to drink as much as he did.

Before then, the only thing you'd thought he drank more than he could handle was coffee. Morgan had taken Penelope home–you'd gotten used to their relationship as fast as Spencer read novels. Rossi and Emily had stayed home as well, reasons: unknown.

JJ hadn't been able to make it, she'd gone on a date with Will, she'd grown on you after Spencer had gotten better, but you'd still had a bone to pick with her and the rest of the team for allowing Spencer's addiction to get a bad as he did.

You'd kept your opinions and feelings to yourself because Spencer never brought it up, but there'd been times–you'd recall them sometimes right before you'd close your eyes at night–times where he'd asked for help in complete roundabout ways. But he'd said them in a room full of profilers, so there was no way he'd said them on accident or without meaning.

"Woa–ho," you'd laughed, grabbing onto his arm to keep him upright. "I am never letting you drink that much again."

"Wha–what?" He'd whined, "why? What did I do?"

You'd heaved a heavy sigh, but had laughed when he'd stopped, turned to you with squinted eyes, and poked your forehead.

Turning back away, he'd found you were on a bridge that overlooked a shallow river, the lampposts that had glowed that night lit up the dark, working together with the stars to allow you to see.

You'd followed him to the hangar and watched as he'd leaned over the railing, his elbows had b raced against the cold metal. You'd leaned your back on the railing beside him, head tilted upward toward the stars as his tilted down toward the water. "I think I love her," he'd whispered, but when you'd caught it–and you had caught it, your heart sank.

"...love her?"

"Yeah," he'd paused, "JJ."

JJ.

Crack went your heart. You'd blinked away tears and gulped. How were you suppose to respond? How would a normal friend respond? What would Penelope or Dereck say? Hell, even Hotch would've been a better person for him to say this to–but he hadn't known that.

You'd swallowed your pain, "oh..."

"I don't know what to do," he'd continued, "she's my best friend..." and she has a husband, and she has a kid on the way, and I thought I was your best friend and I love you... Thoughts ran through your head at godspeed, but you'd stayed silent because you were sure–no, more than sure, you knew for absolute certainty your voice would have given you away within seconds. Spencer had been drunk, but you hadn't been thinking about him, no it was you. If you'd heard your own voice, even for just a second, you would have lost it.

A break down had not been on your list of things to do that night, but there you were, balling your eyes out like a lovesick teenager the instant you'd stepped into you apartment. You hadn't been able to stop it, it wouldn't have been healthy, anyway, and if you had kept it inside, you would have chanced being profiled by the best, and it wouldn't have been hard to connect the dots.

You'd been pretty sure Spencer had not remembered a single thing from the moment you had left the bar. He'd called you the morning after with a massive hangover and as much as you had wanted to avoid him, he'd been your best friend and it wouldn't have been fair to him, especially if he'd had no idea what you were feeling–and how could he?

You'd hid it so well you hadn't even been able to believe it yourself. How to move on, how to get ride of these thoughts that had seemed to plague you every night? You buried it the only way you could; you wrote it out in a journal, everything, every last bit, it had been easier than saying it out loud to a therapist and even yourself.

Every time you'd felt the sudden urge to cry, every time you saw his gaze linger on her or they spoke alone, it hurt you, it hurt you a lot more than you'd ever thought it could.

It'd been a year, a year of suppressed feelings, of envy, of keeping quiet just so you could hold onto what you have left of him because if there was even a small chance JJ had given him any thought–yes she was married, yes, she had a child, and yes they were coworkers–you were pretty sure Spencer would take it.

"Hey, what're you doing?" Spencer plopped down on the chair beside yours. You were using it to hold documents as you'd been cleaning out your desk, but you'd stopped using for some time now, and you'd meant to take it back to the meeting room you'd stole it from when–briefly–you recalled that night Spencer had gotten a little too drunk.

You slammed the notebook shut way too fast to go unnoticed by him and as you lifted your head to meet his, his eyes snagged on the small brown, leather-bound book. "Nothing, why–what's going on?"

His eyes narrowed bit and when he lifted them back up to meet yours, you stilled. "Nothing..." he dragged out, "just wanted to see if you were busy tonight."

"Nope, completely free," you chirped.

He pressed his lips together, careful to keep his eyes on you. If he didn't, you would've profiled the notebook piqued his curiosity, and if he was going to snoop, he could't give you any reason to hide it.

Now, Spencer never would have done it if it hadn't been you. You had your secrets, sure, but he had talked to you about his mother, he had introduced you to his mother. You hadn't been around when the team first met her, and Spencer had desperately wanted you to, had wanted her to know you.

He'd taken you after he'd gotten clean, and you had been perfect just as you always were. You'd told him about your family too, where you'd grown up, what it was like for you in school, in university, you had practically shared life stories, so the fact that you were keeping something from him–it just–it didn't sit right.

It would keep him up at night and he knew it and–yes, it was an invasion of privacy and it was your right and yet he could not find it in himself to–for a lack of better words...care.

It was nearing his birthday, you hadn't mentioned it yet, but he knew you were planning something, perhaps that was what you'd been writing about, and if it was, well, then there was no harm no foul. You'd be pissed, of course, but you'd forgive him...eventually. You always did when he prodded at you, he'd use the smile you never seemed be able to say no to.

That smile, you were sure God had crafted it just for you because every time you saw it you just melted. Your knees would go weak or you'd get butterflies in your stomach, somersaults, or you'd just feel sick–you didn't know which was worse.

Some days your body would be affected physically and there would be no other explanation except the way you were feeling that day. Except the way you'd cry into your pillows, whenever the pain was too much, you found yourself ignoring the wold around you.

It was growing–had been for a while–you were planning to cancel on Spencer, which wouldn't be out of the norm for you these days, which was most likely one of the reasons he'd invited you out today, because you'd cancelled on your movie night last Saturday and the Tuesday before that, you'd cancelled your babysitting at Hotch's with him.

He was probably worried something had happened to you and you knew it was't fair, but you couldn't find it in yourself to care. His birthday was coming up and you wanted to do something for him, something special, you both loved October, you more than him because it was his birth month as well as spooky season, but as the days passed, you couldn't stand to see his face without feeling your heart ache.

You tried reading, throwing yourself into work, anything and everything to get your mind off of him, but nothing stuck. You were being consumed by your thoughts, your unrequited love, you needed a rush, maybe then you'd be able to close your eyes and breath without smelling his cologne and seeing his stupid, pouting smile.

October 12th, Spencer's birthday, he was turning 30 this year, and you still hadn't wrapped your head around what to do. You'd walked into the office, Penelope running past you, calling for you to follow. You weren't normally late, but the past year of suppression had taken its toll on you; you didn't think you'd ever been in a worser state than you were in now.

You listened over the case, but you weren't really listening, you were debating whether or not to tell Hotch, when someone latched their arms onto your shoulders and shook you.

You glanced around the circular table, meeting each pair of eyes with more shame than the last, "I'm sorry," you said, rubbing your eyes.

Hotch stared at you for a moment, silently analyzing your appearance, Spencer opened his mouth to speak, perhaps on your behalf, you couldn't really tell, but Hotch beat him to it when he stood abruptly and said, "follow me, the rest of you continue." You ignored Spencer's concern as you followed your boss to a private space.

Your eyes locked on something behind him as you waited for him to speak, and when he did, you weren't surprised at what he had to say, "what's going on with you?"

Six years, six years you had been with the Bureau, six years you had worked with Hotch and Spencer and Morgan and JJ and Garcia. Six years and for a brief, but sure moment, you'd thought about asking for a transfer.

"Don't do that," Hotch pulled your attention to his face, "don't ignore me."

Your frown deepened, "I'm not–

"First stage, denial," he tilted his head down when you averted your eyes so as to keep the contact, "but you're not in denial, nor are you angry, I've seen you write in that book of yours for half a year, but it's not enough anymore, you must've just hit stage four–"

"I thought we didn't profile each other," he'd hit a nerve and you both knew it.

He sighed, and murmured your name, it wasn't until you found his eyes again that he asked, "who are you mourning?"

You seized up, tightening your face. It was overwhelming and scary just how accurate Hotch was. A moment passed between you two, Hotch's brows furrowed in confusion and you–body, mind, face, and soul–frozen in terror.

The sound of the door opening knocked you both out of your trance. It was Spencer, Hotch caught the twitch your left eye gave when you perceived who the intruder was. Recognition lit up his face, but then he was just as confused again. You and Spencer seemed to be as you always had been–no, something must have changed, for you at least. Spencer seemed oblivious, or he had been for the better part of whatever you'd been going through.

He was now between a rock and a very hard place, what could he honestly do? This had nothing to do with him–but he had failed a team member once, and now that same team member seemed to be at the pinnacle of the distress of another one. What was he to do? What was the best course of action? He had no information, well, he knew you were in love with Spencer, that wasn't much of a deduction, the whole team practically knew–all but Spencer of course. If it was rejection–no that just didn't fit with Spencer's upbeat attitude, whatever had happened clearly wasn't recent.

"Hotch," Spencer spoke, pulling his attention away from his thoughts if only for a moment, "do you mind if we..."

Oh. The team lead thought, perhaps Spencer had found out already? Then he had everything under control? So, should he leave it alone? Ignore it? That seemed to be what he did best, he grimaced at the guilty thought and glanced at you, now just a bit relaxed. "Sure, but be quick."

He stopped himself from saying more and took up refuge in the room with the rest, pretending like he didn't notice their questioning eyes. This time, of all times, the best thing he could truly do for his team members–was absolutely nothing.

Spencer stood silently, hands stuffed in his pockets as he stared at you with unrelenting eyes. He was analyzing you just as Hotch had been, but with better, knowing eyes.

He did–in fact–sneak a peak at your journal, more so toward your latest entry. It shocked him–to his core, it shocked him. He had to put it down when he'd read the first paragraph. Being able to read 20,000 words per minute, he'd thought he'd be done within seconds, he'd thought he would have been able to read the entire thing, actually, before you got back from the restroom.

It had been the first time in a long time he'd been wrong about something, wrong about himself.

He'd read it over again after a few second of sitting in your chair, too stunned to come up with coherent thoughts. He'd thought he surely must have read it wrong, he must've been tired, he couldn't have read what he'd thought he'd read.

But sure enough, the words were still there, emboldened and burning in his head. He'd flipped back to the first entry, you'd been documenting for a few months now and it physically pained him to read it. How could he have not known? How could he have been so incredibly blind? How could he call himself a genius and not have profiled that his best friend was in love with him? That she was hurting from it, because–all because–

"You know then," her voice tugged at something in him. His face contorted into pain-stricken grief. You contained a small urge to laugh, it would have been dry anyway, and you were tired, but you shoved it down, away.

"Yeah," his voice was raw, like he'd been crying and maybe he had, maybe some part of him felt sorry for you so he had cried. Pity, it disgusted you, it made you disgusted at yourself.

You nodded, your lips forming a thin line, "I'm sorry," you got out before you shut you eyes on instinct to keep the tears from spilling out. You turned around to hide hide yourself, he already knew, you had to keep some emblem of your dignity.

You began walking away when you recalled, for some reason, his birthday, and you turned back around, walking back up to him with tears streaking down your face. Tears in his own eyes threatened to break loose at any moment. You truly were sorry that you had put him though all of this, but that's not why he was crying.

He was angry at himself and hurt for you. He didn't know how he could have been so incredibly stupid. That's all he could think of, all his mind–his heart–would let him think clearly; how stupid he was.

He watched as you stepped forward, as sad and detached as you seemed, your walk was graceful, as if you were a ghost floating down the hall. He tensed slightly, as you brought your hands forward, he'd take it, he deserved to be slapped after all–hell, he would probably slap himself later on when he was alone because of how unintelligent, how thickheaded, and witless he'd been.

He didn't even close his eyes, he was ready for it, but you didn't slap him. You pulled his face down and pushed yours forward. You kissed the side of his cheek and whispered, "happy birthday, Spencer."

Shock wrapped itself around his brain, he felt like a robot as you pulled away and turned. Pieces fell as you walked away because shattered was your heart.

He should have followed you, he should have, he knew he should have, but he had been scared. He still was, and the more time went on–the longer he stopped seeing you–that fear grew. He couldn't pinpoint exactly what was terrifying him, but he had a few guesses.

He didn't want to lose your friendship: he'd been so close to you for so long, he turned to you for everything and he'd expected you to do the same. There were moments, he'd knew there were, when he'd catch himself analyzing he curve of your figure when you'd fallen asleep on his ouch or yours. His eyes would sometimes trace the lines that made up your face, the dip at the top of your lips, the way they'd press together when you were contemplative or worried. He didn't want to lose those moments, moments that he really shouldn't have had, moments that he considered his and his alone.

He'd never been in this situation before and if he wasn't careful, he'd mess it up: Spencer'd had crushes before, he'd even had a girlfriend once, briefly, but compared to you? They had been fun, exciting even, you–you were dangerous. When those girls had entered his life, he knew they'd eventually leave and he didn't mind that. That's why he'd kept all those moments to himself, why he never told Morgan or Penelope or even Emily. The things he'd done just so he could keep you, of course he knew it wasn't rational. You'd eventually find a boyfriend and settle down and maybe that boyfriend would someday become a husband. He had always ignored the bile that built up whenever he thought about it, about losing you–because he wouldn't be giving you away, how could he if you were never his to begin with?

A week turned into a month and before he knew it, December was here, it had surprised him so much so, he thought surely a car must have hit him when he hadn't been looking.

The team noticed it, the deterioration. It was visible in both his physique and his mind. He couldn't focus on any of the cases they'd been given. It started off small, with his mind wandering, but as time went on, it became less and less easy to focus him again.

Hotch had emailed you professionally, explaining how you could take as much time as you'd needed and when you were ready to come back, the team would be waiting. Then he'd texted you unprofessionally and told you if there was anything you needed, he was one text or one phone call away.

You'd spent the past few weeks going to therapy. As soon as you'd left the office, you'd sat in your car for a while, contemplative. You'd started driving and your subconscious brought you to a personal health center. You had forced yourself out of the car and through the front doors, tears fell down as you entered. There were a few people in the waiting room, not including the receptionist.

"I–was wondering," you half said and half sniffled, "if you had any walk-ins."

They had one, but you'd have to wait for about an hour, and you did. You spoke to a woman, thankfully, it was easier for you to let out all your faults, all the times you'd cried, all the times you had felt you were a horrible human being, all because of one person, but then again this obsession wasn't at all on Spencer.

And it wasn't all on you either, your therapist, whom you called your saving grace from time to time, explained that because you had built up all of your emotions, and there had been a number of them, you kind of just broke. Which was on parr with the way you'd been feeling.

She'd asked to see the notebook you kept, but you had left the thing in the drawer of your office, you'd cursed yourself. You had no idea how much Spencer had read, but he must have read it because there was no other way he'd known exactly how you were feeling, and if there was any chance he'd go back to read any more–that was if he hadn't read the entire thing already–well, you'd wanted to prevent that.

"What are you feeling?" The therapist had asked, "would you rather write it down?" She'd slid over her notepad and pen.

You'd taken it willingly and had stared at the blank space for a moment, and then–all at once–conversations and small gestures and intimate moments flooded your system, it had been 9 in the morning, and the curtains had been closed and the regular light turned off; a lamp and candle directly across form each other had been the only things to keep the room from complete darkness.

The words left your mind faster than you could write, but you did and when you filled a page, you'd flipped it over, no longer crying, but focussed, and when you were done, you'd taken a breath. You had ignored the uncomfortable feeling of the therapist analyzing you, it was her job as it was yours, yet you'd still felt yourself shift under her gaze.

"Can I see?" She'd asked and you'd handed over the paper and pen, though hesitantly.

And it took her breath away, just as you had known it would, as it had no doubt took Spencer's.

It was almost a year's worth of grieving, and yet you had not idea what you were even thinking about. How could you mourn something that wasn't dead? It's not dead because it was never alive. You'd thought.

Unrequited love. One of the most painful types of love, yet when it came to Spencer–there was something more. You'd told her, "it's not just that," she'd nodded, encouraging you to continue and her patient eyes reached something in your heart, and just barely, you felt it mend.

You saw her the next day with an appointment, and they you a few days later, you saw her again. You grew accustomed to seeing her twice a week, and you'd even grown acquainted with some of the staff, the receptionist especially. They had multiple therapists who specialized in different areas, yours, thankfully, focussed on personal growth.

The weather transformed before you eyes and before you knew it, it was the first of December. You'd stepped out of your house and took in the fresh air, it was one of the firsts in a long time that you had felt truly okay, that you didn't feel like the world would come crashing down around you, and better, that you didn't wish for it to happen anymore.

You'd texted Hotch two days ago, you hadn't known if he was on a case or not, but it had been Saturday and your hope peaked through. Throughout the rest of October and all of November, the team had messaged you multiple times, checking in to see if you were okay. You didn't have the energy to respond at the time, but a few weeks after seeing your therapist, you'd texted each and every one of them, save for one geeky genius.

You had notably not received any messages from Spencer, and it used to send a dull ache through you, but now it only made you swallow. You missed him, missed his company, but not seeing him was a step forward, your therapist had said you needed time and space away from him particularly, and you knew she was right. Your subconscious had been telling you the same thing for weeks before Spencer read your journal.

Thankfully, Hotch wasn't on a case, and he did pick up, when you'd told him to come over, he knew something was up, for better or worse, he didn't know, but you were speaking again, and to him no less. You'd asked if he could bring Jack, you had a lot of apologizing to do to the little guy for cancelling on him.

Hotch had alluded in messages that Jack asked about you whenever a babysitter that wasn't you came over, though he never outright wrote that the kid missed you because he'd known it wasn't fair to you. You were thankful, but you still felt guilty.

That day, you'd turned on The Magic School Bus for Jack and kept a careful eye on him while you and Hotch sat at your kitchen stools and spoke quietly in the background. "How is he?" You'd asked, trying to start the conversation light.

"He's fine," Hotch had replied, "...he misses you." He didn't say 'you and Spencer', which told you he knew.

How? It was Hotch, of course he knew.

"How are you?"

You'd turned your head back to him, a small, but sad smile falling over your face. "Better."

He'd nodded, tight-lipped, "good."

"I want to come back to work," he'd let out a breath and were it not for his eyes, you would have never known he'd felt relieved.

His mouth quirked upward slightly, and a crooked grin–a rare sight from Aaron Hotchner, indeed–filled the no longer anxious silence.

Your first day back at work, a Monday, December 3rd. It was tense at first, and you thought you might tuck tail and run when you saw Spencer, but you didn't, if anything you felt lighter. Maybe now, you could mend your friendship, that's what your therapist had said was the best course of action if you wanted to still be friends with him, though you didn't have much of a choice, you worked with the man.

You didn't avoid him, and the team at first, wondered what you had spent the last few weeks doing. Hotch had returned to your house Sunday to give you an eval, and you had passed with average colors, but he had cleared you. That was all that mattered.

Spencer didn't know what to make of your abrupt return, he hadn't been expecting it and for some reason he felt Hotch was punishing him...slightly. He thought you'd go back to avoiding him, but you didn't. You didn't seek him out like you used to, but you no longer evaded his questions or averted your eyes when he spoke to you.

He felt the wight in his chest lessen, and as time went on you were slowly falling back into your normal routine, but you still loved him, despite yourself, and he still loved JJ, and you came to accept that. If this was as close as you could be to him, you were okay.

And who knows? Maybe as time went by, you'd be able to move on. Your heart warmed and gently, you felt it mend again. Quietly, but efficiently, your heart was righting itself.

A week went by, and then two. You were talking with Hotch in his office about what Jack wanted for Christmas, and he was asking if you'd wanted to take Jack to see Santa with him. The others had already agreed to go, Spencer included, it was quite obvious the kid looked up to him; it still sent a flutter through your body, beginning at your toes, till it hit you head and you felt dazed. Spencer would be an amazing father, whoever he married–and he would...marry one day, you were sure of that–would be the luckiest person on earth–and his kids, well, they'd be blessed by angels.

"Oh shit," you stopped, frowning at the looming darkness that greeted you at the exit of the Bureau.

A snort came from behind you, "yeah, I thought you'd say that." Spencer sighed, halting beside you. You tilted your head upward, your small smile adjacent to his. "I guess some things never change."

You huffed a laugh, smacking him in the chest, "whatever, come on my knight and shining armor."

Hotch watched from his office window as Spencer followed you out to the carpark, like he had all those years ago, and briefly, he wondered if Spencer was going to tell you now. He clicked his tongue, remembering the not so pleasant discussion he and the team had with him concerning you after your return.

They had more or so laid into him, Hotch, though, kept his comments to himself, knowing he didn't have the power to control the actions of others, but maybe, just maybe, fate did. He didn't believe in ghosts, but Rossi talked about them sometimes, and even he had to admit, the setting before him was a little too coincidental.

You waddled to your car like a penguin, making Spencer laugh, you loved his laugh, you always would. "So," he stopped at your car, leaning against it with those doe eyes–a gift to him and perhaps a curse to you.

"So?" You raised a brow, unlocking your car and shrugging your bag into the driver seat.

"There's this showing..." he cleared his throat, "it's uhm," he chuckled nervously, feeling his palms sweat, somehow the universe had known. It must have, he was a logical person, a scientific one, and being one he knew scientists had not yet debunked the theory of fate, normal people called them "happy coincidences" and/or "happy accidents". They were two different words, but both phrases held the same meaning.

"What language is it this time?" You sighed, but you were teasing.

"It–uh, it's in Italian," he cleared his throat and your heart boomed.

"Oh," you nodded, "sure I'd love to go."

He would have said 'really?', but it was you, and you had been so agreeable these past weeks, He was hopeful, but nervous because what if you did say no? What if he said the wrong thing without knowing it and you left again? He couldn't' loose you, not this time.

It was now or never and he knew it, the entire team had coerced him to a dinner where they half ate and half lectured him the entirety they were there.

"It's so obvious," Emily had sighed.

"Look pretty boy, I'm not one to butt into other people's business, but seriously..." Morgan had shaken his head.

And where Morgan stopped, Rossi had picked up, "did you lose your brain over night?" He'd poked Spencer's head, muttering something in Italian, but Spencer knew Italian, and he had to agree, yes, he was ignorant.

JJ, Spencer sighed when he thought about what JJ had said, "If you love her, Spence," she'd also reached out to grab his hand, holding it down on the table, "then she deserves to know."

"She's my best friend," he had squeaked out.

"Oh, sweetie," Penelope had watched him with sad eyes and a sad smile to match, "we know."

"Spencer?" You raised a brow, an awkward smile perfecting the confused expression you wore.

"Sorry," he muttered, "just..."

"Yeah...what-t?" You shivered and began rubbing your arm to warm yourself up.

"Your cold?" He couldn't believe it, but unlike that time years ago, he wasn't waring a sweater. In fact, he wondered if you still had that one. It was his favorite at the time, but when you'd tried giving it back, he'd insisted you keep it.

At the time he'd excused it as being a germaphobe, but now, he thought it might've been something more. When his eyes shifted to yours, your heart–you could swear it stopped beating. His eyes had softened and he was looking at you with something you couldn't coherently explain.

"When did you know you loved me?"

You took a step back, the question hitting you like the cold wind slapping across your face. "I–"

"I think for me, it was after I got better, after you helped me get clean. Well, at least that's when I started taking into account my off behavior." He rambled a little.

"What?" Your breath hitched, how could he spring this on you so suddenly? How–how–"what?"

He paused, eyes finding yours again, disbelief and maybe anger? He expected as much, he was telling you this after all you'd been going through, but the thing he couldn't understand was why. Why did you think there was no possibility that he could like you back? Why–if you had loved him for so long–did it just–a year ago–start breaking your heart?

He called your name and took a step forward, "what gave you the impression, that I didn't love you back?" If he had know–only if he had known you'd been going through this, that he'd been breaking your heart–that you loved him...

You turned away, tears–God you were so tired of crying. "You said–that night you were blackout drunk on the bridge, that you loved her." You took a shuttering breath, twisting your body to look at him again–knowing this was more than likely going to ruin your friendship for good. "You called her your best. Friend. Spencer...and I," you motioned toward yourself, "I knew I would never compare and I had kept my feelings hidden for so long that I didn't even know what I was feeling–"

"Whoa, what?" He held up a hand, "what–what are you talking about?" His eyebrows scrunched up in confusion, recalling a memory, he had alway thought he'd been dreaming whenever it came to them.

Over the weeks after, it had come back to him in sections, as he'd pieced together the parts one by one, he had come to the conclusion that he must have dreamt it up because–because JJ wasn't there that night. She had some plans with Will, or something, he couldn't really remember.

It had to be a dream, because he couldn't have confessed his love for you to JJ–she wasn't at the bar that night–but if what you were saying was true–no it didn't–it didn't–and then it smacked him in the face.

"I–" he closed his eyes, laughing almost hysterically, "I was talking about you." His voice cracked and he shook his head, running his hands over his face. He couldn't believe it. He just couldn't believe it.

"What–" you sniffled, "what are you talking about?"

He caught his breath, tears falling down his cheek as his face crumbled and he wiped them away, loathing himself more than he ever had before, "I thought–" his breathing was heavy now and you could hear the straining–the thickness strangled together as he forced it out, "I thought you were JJ."

Step, you took a step, and then another until you stood in front of your best friend. The sound echoed across the dark, silent lot, though the wind was picking up again. The cheek you'd slapped burned red, Spencer looked like an owl–a deer caught in headlights, if you will–face turned to the side, mouth agape, eyes wide with shock.

Slowly, he let his head drift back toward you, you were already waiting for his eyes to find yours. You wanted to hit him some more, to take your pent up frustration out on him, but you only had energy for a single slap tonight. A slap, and a kiss.

You pulled him down by his collar, your eyes closing upon impact. He tasted of coffee and smelled like olde books and leather, like you knew he always did. If only you had known, but you couldn't change the past, you could only move forward.

"So, where do you wanna meet?" You asked him when you pulled away. He blinked, and you smirked, eyes narrowing slightly, "for the showing."

His eyes lit up and he pulled you closer, wrapping his long arms around your torso, breathing you in like you just might disappear before his eyes if he didn't.

You giggled as his breath tickled your skin, tears long forgotten, and your heart full as it once had been.

a/n: if you're a writer, don't proof read your angst fics

[gay-dorito-dust]

hey if ur requests are still open what do you think of an Arcane herald viktor turning reader into one of his hex angels on the rooftop thinking it will show them his vision of the ''glorious evokution'' only for it to turn reader into a empty husk and viktor realize in horror that he done goofed

Don’t we love a bit of angst here on this blog, especially when it concerns arcane Jesus.

‘Viktor, don’t.’ You pleaded, far too tired to keep up the fighting anymore, not against someone you once-no- still cared for deeply. ‘Please stop this madness.’ You add as you struggled weakly against his grasp on your chin, keeping you in place against him as he made sure to keep your head careened back, just so to keep you looking up at him as his other hand was etching closer towards your forehead.

Your heart was racing within your chest as your eyes tried to see for an opportunity out of Viktor’s grasp, only to see that your weapon -a crowbar- was too far from your reach, and even if you were able to break free form Viktor you still had to fight your way through the wave of Hex Angels to get to your weapon. All hope for you was lost in this moment and you knew that screaming for help wouldn’t help much either as you didn’t know if anyone who wasn’t turned into one of those humanoid creatures already.

‘Don’t fight against what is already predestined my dear.’ Viktor said, his distorted voice still calm and certain within his new form as it towered over you, orange eyes glaring down at you in a manner that made you feel over exposed. ‘I just wish for you to see what I see.’ He continued as his fingertips brushed against your forehead, startling you as you began to thrash in his arms once again, the urge to escape and stay who you were was strong but Viktor was stronger as he tightened his grip on you once more; a touch that once made you calm and reassured now only emphasised the hopelessness within your chest that only felt more and more inevitable than ever the more fingertips were pressed against your forehead.

‘Viktor I don’t want to go.’ You whimpered, pawing at his hand that held your chin but before you could continue to plead for your freedom, the last of Viktor’s fingers was pressed against your head and everything became blank as your eyes glazed over, mouth became agape in wordless babbling as your body underwent the same transformation as the other Hex Angels before you.

Viktor on the other hand was waiting for you within the star scattered astral plane, but when a couple of minutes have passed and you hadn’t appeared before him still he felt something was wrong, very wrong. You should’ve been here by now so that he could make you see what he could, the glorious evolution the he knew was destined to come about, hoping that you’d understand and willingly join by his side in his quest like you once did before he became…all this.

‘My dear?’ He calls aloud, his voice echoing throughout the star light space that seemed to stretch on endlessly.

‘My love? My muse?’ Viktor calls again as he felt what semblance of his heart remained tighten in pain and worry, all very human emotions that he thought he had forgone that were now rushing back when he couldn’t see you, nor feel you when he stretched his hand out in hopes of sensing you within the same plan of existence as him.

Nothing. You were nowhere to be found nor felt or even heard and that only made Viktor frown as his mind races with logical explanations as to what you were hiding from him. ‘I can’t feel you my beloved.’ He says to himself as he tries once again, this time more desperately to find you but only to have it come back the same as before, nothing. It was almost as if you didn’t want him to find you and if they were the case then why? Why hide from him? You knew he would never bring you to actual harm right?

Viktor was at a loss for words as he brought his hand back to his side. ‘I can’t feel you,’ he murmured to himself, ‘why can’t I feel you my heart?’ He furrows his brows as he continues to look for you within the astral plan, his thoughts getting worse when it looked like you never entered it in the first place. No. That couldn’t be, Viktor didn’t want to imagine it that way at all as he immediately resorted to denial that something horrible had happened to you. You were far stronger than that, Viktor knew this to be fact as the memories flooded to his head of the times where you’ve proven to be the strongest person he knew his entire life.

Look something within Viktor told him.

Look and see what has become of your beloved it said once again as Viktor looked and saw that where your beautiful face once looked up at him was now a sleek, lifeless golden accented mask with a golden webbing of a thorny crown that rested upon your head and a pair of unique golden streaks running down your mask from where your eyes would’ve been, almost like tear stains. You had become one of his hex angles, lifeless, devoid of all emotion; never to ever again utter a single word in protest or excitement for that was all stripped away from you; Just another husk of person that Viktor could use and his heart cracked in two.

You weren’t here in the astral plan either him because he might as well have killed you for there was not an ounce of you left that he could pick up on, you were gone and it was all because of him.

The machine herald cradled your skew sleek face between metallic hands, running his thumbs over where your cheeks once were as though reminiscent before leaning down to rest his head against your own and letting out a mournful sigh. ‘I’m sorry my beloved.’ His distorted voice murmured, waiting for a response that he’ll never get, which only seems to hurt him even more as was practically cradling your husk of a body to his own, in an all too human act for someone of his calibre. ‘I’m so sorry.’ He whispers as he’s brought to his knees, stilling holding on to you tightly but you didn’t rub his back nor cradled his face like you once did, you just stood there as you looked ahead as though awaiting orders.

‘This isn’t how I wanted it to be! I just wanted to show you what we could’ve become!’ The herald cried but it was useless, anyone that was left to care was too far away to hear or was gone entirely due to the raging conflict below you both. ‘I didn’t mean it, I didn’t meant it. I can fix you I promise.’ Viktor didn’t know who he was promising this to anymore, you? No you were gone. Himself? He wasn’t quite sure if he could even reverse the damage already too far gone. So who was he truly fooling other than the his other Hex angels, who only stared blankly as their herald cradled one of their own within his arms, clearly in a state of mourning and utter regret.

All Viktor could do was say he was sorry over and over again as if that was going to help undo what he had done to you. His heart breaking over and over again when you didn’t do the things you would’ve done when he was like this, serving as a grim reminder that he had taken away the one person who cared about him for who he was, disease or not; He had taken away his own god given solace and now he has to deal with the consequences of his own actions as he held your hex angel form close, wishing to hear your heart beat again.

Bonus cuz I’m feeling evil;

In another reality, one where the hexcore has destroyed and consumed everyone, Viktor -now in a somewhat human body after some trial and tribulations- still sits with your hollowed corpse, resting his head against what once was your shoulder and closes his eyes as the pain still lingered within his chest that this was all his doing.

You have been gone for so long and yet the pain he felt still felt fresh, felt new as though he had just watched you die right before his eyes and in his arms no less. Yet viktor still couldn’t believe that you were gone, no longer with him to smile nor give your heart to him again, you were gone but Viktor was still within the bargaining stage of his grief. He wanted no- he needed you back in his life and he certainly didn’t want you in his life as a hollow corpse, overlooking the ruins of Piltover and Zaun in an eternal state of mourning.

‘I’m sorry my heart, for I still cannot feel you.’ He utters against your cold shoulder, looking at you with amber eyes but sighed when all he could gauge from you was the moss and algae making your golden thrones crown their home, the algae and moss it cascaded down the back of your head and back like a billowing cape or veil he’ll never get to see you wear. ‘But I would like to stay here with you…if that’s okay?’ He asks but got no response and so Viktor sat by your corpse for days on end, wishing to repent for his actions against you, wishing for another opportunity with you in another life or plan of existence.

Viktor could only hope his other variants of himself would never dare to make the same foolish mistake he did, loosing you was the utter most worst thing Viktor ever had to endure, and to be honest he was still paying the price.

[sturnsdoll]

𝖶𝖨𝖲𝖣𝖮𝖬 𝖳𝖤𝖤𝖳𝖧 -`♡´- -C.S

(HEADCANNONS!)

pairing: chris x (gf) reader, some reader x bsf matt and nick <3

summary: how chris would support his girlfriend before, after, and through wisdom teeth removal, as well as being under the influence of anesthetics!

warnings: fluffy!headcannons, dentist, mention of teeth pulling, little blood, slight mention of needles, anesethetics, established relationships.

authors note: kind of a blurb more than hc's tbh? it was a little rushed! sorry!

₊⊹⤑ you had been talking about how nervous you were for a couple weeks now..

₊⊹⤑ so it was no surprise when the whole car ride there, you were holding your boyfriends hand and avoiding the topic of what you knew was coming.

₊⊹⤑ chris had been reminding you everyday that besides the needle, the rest of it you wouldn't even remember. he ensured that him matt and nick would be there the entire time if you needed a hand or two.. or three to hold.

₊⊹⤑ with some encouragement (and chris lending you his grey zip up to wear for emotional and physical comfort) you did manage to enter the building just to get it done and over with.

₊⊹⤑ while the IV was intruding your skin, chris stayed next to you, asking about what flavour of ice cream you'd be getting after as a distraction from the needle.

₊⊹⤑ from there on, the process itself you had no memory of but chris stuck close by the entire time incase you needed anything or for some reason woke up.

₊⊹⤑ "hey sweetheart how'r ya feeling?" chris would ask while gently holding your hand when you come to your senses

₊⊹⤑ confused, your instinct was to sit up but chris would immedietly usher you to lay back down, letting you know that they're done working on your teeth.

₊⊹⤑ "why dtha fack is this bullshit still in my fucking arm then HUH?" your words wonky from the cotton in your mouth and the haze of anesthetic.

₊⊹⤑ "shh, were in public stop cursing like a sailor" "dude, nobody under like 100 says 'cursing like a sailor'" "yeah, what he thsaid!"

₊⊹⤑ chris would of course glare at you for agreeing with matt. but his thumb soothingly rubbing your hand tells you that he's obviously not too mad.

₊⊹⤑ you would leave later then you should have because everytime a password was given to you, you'd forget less than five seconds later..

₊⊹⤑ "it was ass right?" "no, it was GRASS sweetheart...."

₊⊹⤑ everything that came out of your mouth had the doctors and the triplets giggling.

₊⊹⤑ when it came time to take the IV out, chris thought that a 'got your nose' joke would be funny to distract you with. it was... definetly distracting at least???

₊⊹⤑ usually you were sweet to your boyfriend but something about anesthetic had you more than arguementative today.

₊⊹⤑ chris would try complimenting you "you look pretty even like this"

₊⊹⤑ "i KNOW i do. stop being corny you sthtoopid fuck" chris's jaw drops like he's offended but you don't care because nick's contagious laugh brings out your own laughter out as well.

₊⊹⤑ "i thought i was supposed to be the stupid one right now, not you"

₊⊹⤑ "maybe YOUU need to see the dentist about all those terrible jokes that come out of your mouth."

₊⊹⤑ you had no filter, just having fun rebelling against your usual niceness to your loved one.

₊⊹⤑ then finally the car ride came.

₊⊹⤑ now you leant on chris' shoulder to take a nap

₊⊹⤑ "thought i was stupid?" he questions, arm coming around to pull you in closer. "shhhh i'm sthleeping" the inpedament on your speech makes him giggle. "I SAID SHHHHHH" "jesus. my bad sleepyhead"

₊⊹⤑ the whole car ride he was making sure you didn't need your gauze changed, asking if you need water, offering you chapstick. you had to tell him to shut up at least 100 times before he'd relax, telling him you could put your own damn chapstick on. (you ended up asking him for help two minutes later...)

₊⊹⤑ the whole rest of the car ride was filled with you zipping up and down the zipper of your boyfriends sweater you had on, mixed with your favourite artist playing as you attempted to sing along

₊⊹⤑ the second you entered the triplets home, you rested on the couch with your legs over your boyfriends lap, singing a song that everyones pretty sure doesn't exist..

₊⊹⤑ "i love... YOUUUUUUU, i lovovovovovee YOUU, all three of YOUUuUuU-" "someone sedate her again." nick jokes while handing you an ice pack you'd previously asked for.

₊⊹⤑ "want me to hold it on your jaw for you bab- oh" before he can finish speaking you're gripping his wrist, leaning toward him "wanna know something?" you ask eagerly "hm?" "I LOVE YOU!" "i love you more"

₊⊹⤑ matt and nick didn't enjoy the next 30 minutes of the predictable arguement at all. ₊⊹⤑ once the delusion of the anesthetic wore off, you were just plain tired. nick and matt had both chosen to chill in their own rooms by now.

₊⊹⤑ the second you mentioned wanting to lay down, chris curled up behind you with a blanket over the two of you. he held you tight, muttering in your ear about how good you did today and how proud he is that you went.

₊⊹⤑ "sorry for calling you stupid" you apologize with a sweetly apologetic smile.

₊⊹⤑ "aw, it's okay. i know you didn't mean it-" "wellll sometimes.." "nevermind i don't forgive you."

₊⊹⤑ he'd make sure your favourite cartoon was on and that he held your ice pack on your sore jaw till you eventually drifted into sleep.

tags ᥫ᭡: @pettydollie @mattsrod @sturncakez @sturniololovesss @sturniolosstar @sstvrnioloo @watercolorskyy @sturniol0s @6ix9inewiturmom @sonicsmacks @orangela

[apeachty]

₊ ˚ ⊹ ♡ . ⠀mad & mean

⠀⠀⠀kai x fem!reader

genre ; smutty. easy as that.

warnings | tags ; manhandling; mad (not at reader tho) and a bit mean kai (he's a tease here too); once again kinda needy reader; longhaired kai which is a huge warning itself; probably ooc; i had more in mind while writing, but forgot :c

wordcount ; 1.4k (idk how it happened).

✉ notes ; firstly, colored italics are kai's thoughts. if it's hard to read, pls tell me, i'll make it just italics or italics + bold. secondly, the idea was born in the middle of drooling talking about the first photo in the banner with @biteyoubiteme, so you know where to send thanks ~

i hate coming up with titles i'll just be naming everything like kai#2 from now on

⠀⠀⠀[ masterlist is here ]

kai was mad. it’s not that he got mad often, but over time you learned that it was the final stage after going through stages of being upset. and though you rarely saw him truly angry, it was a safe bet that this was one of those times. when you rushed to the front door to greet him with a kiss the moment you heard the keys turning, he threw his already removed jacket somewhere on the floor, discarded his shoes, and threw you over his shoulder, locking the door with a free hand—all happening in mere seconds without even the tiniest word from him.

you really tried to ask him what happened as he clearly carried you to the bedroom—sweet kai who’s still there made sure to be careful around the turns—but he silenced all your questions with a light but unexpected slap to your butt, making you yelp and jerk. good thing he was holding you tight enough not to let you move even an inch on his shoulder.

until he shut the door—with a bit too much strength that it needed—and threw you on the bed, making you bounce slightly before composing yourself and crawling back a bit to give him space to join you. he didn’t though. unlike how it usually went, where he preferred you two to undress each other while making out, he just took everything in his hands that time, throwing his hoodie somewhere on the floor and staying in a simple white t-shirt.

it couldn’t last long, less than a second probably with how sharp he was with everything he did, but the image of him grabbing the t-shirt behind his neck, the way the already short sleeves went down to his shoulders to expose more of his arms, and the beautiful flex of his muscles, burned its way into your brain. and you realized you weren’t obsessed with him before—it was too light to call it an obsession compared to what you felt just now.

and you really thought kai wouldn’t notice, but of course he did. the way your breath hitched, the way you swallowed thickly, and how you couldn’t tear your eyes away from his arms. you were so cute, lying there almost awkwardly, frozen in the middle of crawling away to give him space, fascination with him shining so bright in your eyes.

somehow, the way you looked at him only made him want to torture you a bit more. his hair was always a pain when it came to having sex with him on top, sticking to his neck or—even worse—not sticking and tickling it annoyingly, part of it covering his eyes, so he always made sure it was tied back before things started.

sometimes he forgets, of course. it happens to everyone, doesn’t it? and when it happens, he has to ask you to do it for him while he’s pounding you into the sheets. you’re always so cute with your shaky hands trying to gather his hair to tie it up, half of it constantly leaving your palm with the way you’re being pushed up the bed by his thrusts. you fail more often than not, but every uncomfortable tug you do, and how ridiculous he looks after it are worth it, because he can see how much you struggle.

and he thought it was the worst he could do to you, but with the way you were looking at him right now, at his arms, shoulders, and chest, he realized he could do better—’better’ for him of course, not for you—maybe he should just sit with his back to the headboard, arms behind his head, making you do all the work if you’re already that desperate, and he was just standing near the bed?

no, he thought, today we will do it another way. but i do have something in mind for you.

he tugged the hair tie off his wrist with his teeth, and you could swear your soul left your body at the sight. if there ever was a chance of you looking at other men, there wasn’t one now, because you wanted to see what you’ve seen just now daily for the rest of your life, and no one else would be able to do it like kai. you needed to know what exactly made him like that, and if it was something bad, how to make him like that without anything bad.

he grabbed his hair in his palms, taking his time to make the neatest ponytail he could manage, arms and chest on full display as he was towering over you sprawled on the bed, thighs already rubbing against each other, trying to get at least some friction.

and kai was enjoying it far too much, fingers going through his bangs, pushing it back even though you both perfectly knew it was too short to be put into a ponytail, but you both also knew that his fingers and arms looked too good in that moment to just waste an opportunity to make you lose your mind a bit more.

you wanted him to never stop tying his hair and to be done with it already until you still had some sanity, shame and dignity left, because you felt like you’d start begging if it took him a few more seconds to finish.

kai wanted to take more time, wanted to make you beg, but he himself was so hard already, it almost hurt. he moved his hand to the waist of his jeans, making sure you were watching that hand, not the one that was holding his bangs back to open his forehead, and unbuttoned his jeans, easily but still slowly, to keep your eyes on his bulge for a bit longer, until he took the pull between his fingers and pulled it down just as slowly.

you whimpered his name, eyes going up to his, already much closer to begging than you were just mere seconds ago before that "performance". he looked just too good, half naked, jeans low on his hips and unzipped, bulge perfectly seen through the thin fabric of his boxers, and his hair in a ponytail he took so damn long to make.

you looked at him like he was a greek god, and kai found it hard to torture you even more, because it slowly turned into him torturing himself. you barely noticed how he managed to push his jeans down—god bless these damn wide jeans—and get on top of you, pressing you into the bed with all of his weight, lips immediately on your neck, one of the hands lifting your leg to his waist, sinking fingertips into your skin.

"kai—" your whimper was music to his ears, something closer to a song of a siren, and he couldn’t help himself but bite into your neck and grind his hips against yours, groaning. "kai, you’re— you’re mad. are you sure—"

he almost growled at that. does it—he ground his hips against yours harder—feel like i’m not sure? flashed in his mind, before he straightened up, towering over you.

you looked up at him with huge eyes, not completely sure what to expect from him. of course you weren’t scared, he would never do something you wouldn’t enjoy, and you had a safe word too, just in case he got too carried away—he was big after all, in all the ways, and sometimes he forgot how strong he was but now, towering over you, face straight, eyes hooded and looking into yours, he looked like you were in trouble.

after the endless—or at least, really long—staring contest, he grabbed your waist, fingers digging into the flesh, and turned you around on your stomach, almost throwing you on the bed. you still were trying to understand what happened, pushing your upper body up on your elbows turning your head to look at him over your shoulder, and he already had his knees on the sides of your thighs, pressing them together to fixate you under him the next moment. the look he gave you was enough for your arms to give in and make you fall back on the bed.

maybe i will make you ride me tonight though, kai thought, pulling your pants and underwear down. but at first i’ll make sure your legs won’t even let you sit up.

[harrysfolklore]

i’ve always loved the piastri sis lore because the sibling dynamic is so healthy but just to switch it up a little bit in the tiny verstappen!sis universe i can imagine her skipping out on the WDC celebrations with max and be with charles instead and max is a little mad at her at qatar until kelly knocks sense into him 🥰

verstappen!sister was one of the first f1 fics i ever posted 🥺🥺 its kinda heartwarming that you guys still remember it and want to read more about them! it was nice to take a dip into that little world agai, i hope you like this!

READ VERSTAPPEN!YN HERE

The neon lights of Las Vegas blurred through as you rushed through the paddock, your heart torn between two directions. Behind you, the thunderous celebration at Red Bull's garage continued – your brother Max had just sealed his fourth world championship. Any other day, you'd be right there, spraying champagne and screaming until your voice gave out.

But right now, all you could think about was Charles.

You found him in the Ferrari cooldown room, still in his race suit, head in his hands. He looked up when you entered, those green eyes stormy with frustration.

"Mon coeur," he whispered, and despite his evident pain, his lips curved into a small smile at the sight of you. "You're here."

You crossed the room quickly, wrapping your arms around him. He buried his face in your neck, breathing deeply. "Of course I'm here. Always."

"I had it," he mumbled against your skin. "I had the pace, the position... everything. Then they called me in at the worst possible moment—" His voice cracked slightly.

You ran your fingers through his hair soothingly. "I know, baby. I watched the whole thing."

Charles pulled back slightly, cupping your face with both hands. "You should be celebrating with Max, though. It's his championship. I don't want to take you away from that."

"You're not taking me anywhere," you said firmly, pressing your forehead to his. "I choose to be here."

He kissed you softly, gratefully. "Je t'aime. What did I do to deserve you?"

"Existed," you smiled against his lips. "Come on, let's get you out of here."

As you were leaving the cooldown room, hand in hand with Charles, you nearly collided with Max in the corridor. Your brother was still in his race suit, championship cap askew, smelling of champagne and victory.

"YN?" His voice was smaller than usual. "Where were you? Everyone was asking... we were all celebrating and you just disappeared."

Guilt twisted in your stomach. "Max, I'm so sorry, I—"

"She was with me," Charles said quietly, squeezing your hand.

Max's face fell slightly, though he tried to hide it. "Oh." He looked between you both, jaw working like he was trying to find the right words. "I thought... it's the championship, YN. Our fourth championship."

"I know," you said, stepping forward to hug him tightly. "And I'm so, so proud of you. You were incredible out there. But Charles needed me."

Max returned the hug, but you could feel the tension in his shoulders. When he pulled back, his expression was complicated – hurt mixed with resignation.

"Sure, whatever. Stay with your boyfriend." He shook his head, jaw clenched. "It's fine. Not like it's my fourth world championship or anything."

The sarcasm in his voice cut deep. Before you could respond, he turned on his heel and walked away, leaving you and Charles standing in the corridor.

The next morning, you found Max in the hotel gym, pounding away at a treadmill despite probably being hungover from the celebrations. You knew your brother well enough to recognize when he was working out his frustrations physically.

"Max," you called out softly.

He didn't look at you, just kept running. "Shouldn't you be with Charles?"

"Can we talk? Please?"

He jabbed at the treadmill controls, slowing to a stop. When he finally turned to face you, his expression was guarded. "About what? About how you ditched your own brother's championship celebration to comfort your boyfriend? Because he finished P4?" He grabbed his towel, wiping his face roughly. "Real nice, sister."

"That's not fair and you know it."

"Kelly already gave me the whole speech last night, you know," he said, "Something about 'understanding love' and 'being supportive' and how she'd do the same for me."

"And?"

"And I told her she's supposed to be on my side," he said, but there was less heat in his voice than before. "She just laughed at me."

You sat down on a nearby bench, and after a moment, he joined you. "I'm still mad," he admitted. "And it's still weird as hell that my sister is dating Charles bloody Leclerc of all people."

"Could be worse," you tried. "Could've been Lewis."

"Don't even joke about that," he groaned, but you caught the tiny smile he tried to hide. His face turned serious again. "Kelly made some good points though. About how she'd choose to be with me if I was struggling after a race, even if it meant missing something important. Still doesn't mean I like it."

"I really am sorry about disappearing like that."

"I wanted my sister there," Max's voice cracked slightly. "You've been there for every important moment in my career. Every single one. Until yesterday. It's like ever since you started dating him, I'm losing my little sister bit by bit."

"You're not losing me, Max. You're my brother, nothing will ever change that. But Charles...I love him."

Max was quiet for a long moment. "You really love him that much? It's that serious?"

"Yeah," you whispered. "It is."

He sighed deeply, running a hand through his hair. "I still don't like it. And I'm still mad about yesterday." He paused, then added grudgingly, "But I guess I need to get used to sharing you. Just... don't disappear on me like that again, okay? I had to listen to Helmut asking if you were sick or something. Do you know how awkward it was explaining that my sister was too busy consoling a Ferrari driver to celebrate with us?"

"Did you actually tell him that?"

"No, I told him you had a headache. You're welcome, by the way." He paused. "But seriously, YN. I get that you love him or whatever—" he made a face at the words, "—but you're still my sister."

"And you're still my annoying big brother," you leaned against his shoulder. "So... fourth championship, huh? Getting a bit boring now, isn't it?"

"Never," he grinned, then added more seriously, "Would've been better with you there though."

"I'll make it up to you. Plus, there's still family dinner tonight."

"Yeah, about that..." Max's expression turned mischievous. "I might have told Mom to make that really spicy Indonesian dish Charles couldn't handle last time."

"Max!"

"What? If he's going to be family, he needs to build up his tolerance," he said innocently. "Besides, it's payback for making me miss my sister at my championship celebration."

"You're impossible."

"Yeah, but I'm a four-time world champion impossible brother," he smirked, pulling you into a headlock like when you were kids. "And don't you forget it."

[iamnotoriginalphil]

A Study in Possession (Professor!Agatha Harkness x f!Reader)

Synopsis: Rio returns, looking to cause more trouble, but you refuse to let her break something that isn't broken.

Words: 5.6k

Warnings: Student/teacher relationship, power imbalance, toxic relationship, age gap (all 18+), marking, discussions of exhibitionism, mentions of bondage, possessiveness, jealousy, swearing, oral (R giving), praise kink, mentions of face sitting, hair pulling

Some days, a restlessness seemed to take root in your bones. It spread through your veins, ensnaring you, turning your insides to mulch if you didn’t do something about it. Pacing circles around Agatha’s living room, you were hoping to wear yourself out.

She reclined on the sofa, watching you, blue eyes intent as they followed you around the room. Her chin rested on her fingers, delicate and distracting and it only made the itching under your skin worse. Every pass by, you let your fingers trail over her shoulders, again and again, until you thought you might be smudging the outline of her.

“You’re wearing through my carpet, pet,” she said, after the umpteenth pass.

“Sorry,” you said, pausing until your bones ached with the need to move again.

“Shall I tire you out?” she asked, fingers curling around your wrist.

A flash of heat, burning through you, leaving the taste of ash on the back of your tongue. You lingered, fingertips brushing over her lips. She nipped at you, a smirk unfolding over her face.

“I can put you to rest,” she said, voice lowering into a soft hum, “you won’t be able to walk when I’m done with you.”

“I don’t think I could stay still for long enough,” you said.

“So I’ll tie you up until you can’t move.”

Her lips brushed over the pulse point in the wrist she still held. Looking up at you from under lowered lashes, she let her tongue flick out, tasting your skin, feeling your life thrum. You trembled but the burning, the ache, the gnawing in your bones would not quiet itself, even as you throbbed for her touch.

“Maybe I should go for a walk,” you said.

“After,” she replied, “if you can.”

Her hands grasped your hips, pulling you closer. Pushing up past the sweater you’d tugged on that morning, her fingers pressed into your skin. You went, willingly, knees falling either side of her hips. Her kiss was slow, maddeningly so, taking her time until you were vibrating in her lap. She chuckled, drawing away from you.

“I like you like this. You’re so impatient,” she said.

“Agatha,” you whined.

“I’m going to take my time with you. Do you think I’ll drive you mad? I’m game to find out if you are,” she said.

Her lips trailed down your neck, lingering, stretching out the time as she sucked a hickey into your skin. You whimpered, fingers digging into her shoulders, hips rutting against her, finding no friction. You couldn’t stay still, not with the ache and the throbbing and the absolute overwhelming need for more of everything.

“I could spend hours, right here, before I even touch you,” she murmured.

“Agatha,” you whined again.

“You don’t like that thought, pet? You don’t want me to take as much time as I want with you? You’d rather I rush through this and not drag out every single moment of pleasure your body can handle? You want me to be a common whore, just bang one out and leave you be?” She did not sound happy, “if you’re looking for a quick fuck, I can send you out to some frat party.”

“Don’t want a frat boy,” you said, “want you.”

“Then you’ll stop complaining,” she told you.

She returned to her place on your neck, open mouth kisses pressed into your skin. Her hands were slow as they ran up your back, nails dragging down your spine. Over and over again, maddeningly slow. You thought your bones might shatter from how slow she was being. You tried to stay still, to be good for her, but it hurt so much.

“Do you want to tell me what’s got you so worked up?” she asked into your skin, thumb brushing the underside of one breast.

“It’s just.” You hissed when her teeth sunk into your flesh for only moment, “I’ve been sitting too long.”

“Oh?” She sounded amused.

“I keep rewriting my introduction for you and you keep asking for changes and so I’ve spent days sitting and writing and not doing much else except when you…”

You lost your train of thought as she nipped at your collarbone.

“When I do what, pet?” she asked.

“When you do things like that,” you replied.

“I thought you liked when I did things like that,” she said.

“I do,” you sighed.

Your fingers moved from her shoulders, winding themselves in her hair, long and wild and free. She grinned at you, the kind that felt dangerous. With racing heart and throbbing need, you pulled her into a kiss again. She let you control it for a while, taking what you needed from her, before reminding you she was in control. She was always in control. You liked her being in control.

“So what’s the problem?” she murmured against your lips.

“I think I need a change of scenery. Some fresh air. Just to blow the cobwebs away,” you said, breathless and needy and trying to drag her closer.

“You want me to fuck you in the park?” she asked, a touch of meanness entering her voice. She was mocking you. It shouldn’t have had you grinding down, trying to find any hint of friction you could.

She laughed, tipping her head back, away from you. You whimpered, not caring how pathetic you sounded.

“You are full of surprises, pet. I didn’t take you for an exhibitionist,” she said.

“That’s not what I meant,” you muttered, but the heat between your legs said otherwise.

Wasn’t there something exciting in the thought of Agatha having her way with you in front of an audience? For the entire town to see that you were hers? That she was yours? To so publicly claim one another?

Maybe you were an exhibitionist when it came to her, and her alone.

“Even if it was, you know I can’t do that,” she said.

“I know.”

She couldn’t be caught with you. Plausible deniability and all that. You wanted her but you didn’t want her to lose her job over it. It would remain a secret until you’d graduated and then she could publicly say you were hers.

“But know I would, if you really wanted me to, and the circumstances were different,” she said.

You clenched around nothing and she seemed to draw joy from the needy little noise you made.

“But if you want to get out, you should go take that walk,” she said.

She pushed you off her lap, onto trembling legs, disappointment a sharp slap. Your fingers were still wound in her hair, keeping you close, caught in one another’s orbit.

“Go on,” she said, “you were so desperate to go for your walk. I might be able to get something done without your constant pacing.”

“I thought you were going to tire me out,” you said.

“Don’t pout.” Her thumb ran along your lower lip, “it’s not as endearing as you think.”

“Will you tire me out when I come back?” you asked.

“We’ll see,” she said.

You lingered another moment. You tugged on the ends of her hair until her lips curled up into a small. Her hands were gentle as they shoved you away.

“Go on,” she said, but there was an undertone of fondness in it.

“I’ll bring you back something pretty,” you said.

It wasn’t until you were out of the room that you heard her say, “you’re the only pretty thing I need.”

With the flush of pleasure still on your cheeks, you put your shoes on and walked out the door. You shoved your hands into your pockets, hurrying your steps, turning your feet towards the park. You’d walk laps, imagining being there with Agatha, knuckles deep inside of you, uncaring of who was watching as she fucked you in the open air.

It was oddly empty for a Sunday afternoon. No children running about, no families picnicking, no dog walkers. A few people were by the pond, looking at the ducks, but for the most part you had the park to yourself. Your pace was fast as you walked, trying to force the jittery feeling out through your fingertips.

“Fancy seeing you here.”

You startled, stumbling, almost tripping over your own feet. A hand shot out, catching you. You looked up, dark eyes sweeping over your body.

“I don’t suppose Agatha is with you, is she?” Rio asked.

“No,” you said.

“Good. Then us girls can have a chat.”

She placed your hand in the crook of her elbow as she continued walking along the path. You went with her, not sure if it was a good idea, not sure if Agatha would be okay with it. Actually, you knew she would not be happy when she found out. And she would find out, even if you didn’t tell her. But you would, especially knowing that she would want to know. And that Rio was sure to tell her if you didn’t.

“Tell me, is she a good mentor?” she asked, slipping into perfectly pleasant conversation.

“Wonderful,” you said.

“I’ve been listening in to some of the students. The rumours about her are pretty intense,” she said, “she doesn’t scare you? Intimidate you?”

“No,” you replied.

“Really?”

You chanced a look at her, finding her head tilted and interest in her eyes. You shrugged. She lent closer to you.

“You can be honest with me, sweetheart. I won’t tell,” she whispered, lips brushing over the shell of your ear.

“She doesn’t scare me,” you said, firmer, refusing to give her any ammunition after last time.

“Do I scare you?” she asked.

You turned your head, nose brushing against hers. Your breath caught. It was so easy to see why Agatha would find herself entangled with this woman. There was something about her that was like a blackhole, pulling you in regardless of how you might feel.

“No,” you said but you whispered it and you weren’t sure the single word rang with truth.

“It’s not true, you know,” she said, leaning away from you, letting you get away with your lie.

“What isn’t?” you asked.

“Whatever she told you about me,” she replied.

“She didn’t tell me anything,” you said, sniffing.

Her chuckle was soft and she shook her head.

“I knew you were a liar but even I’m not sucker enough to believe that,” she said, “I know Agatha. She’ll have told you to stay away from me. That I’m evil and I do awful things. That I can’t be trusted.”

“Maybe you don’t know her as well as you think,” you snapped.

“Oh, no, I know her perfectly,” she said and you didn’t like the possessive tone she’d adopted, “you’re the unknown in this equation.”

“Agatha knows me,” you said, stubborn and refusing to let her think that their history gave her the upper hand.

“I think we can be honest with each other,” she said, “you will be honest with me, won’t you?”

“I don’t even know you,” you said.

“Let’s get to know each other then,” she said.

You hadn’t noticed as she’d steered you towards one of the more isolated parts of the park. Trees kept your portion of the path from easy view, the twist and turns giving it the facade of privacy. Her hands landed on your shoulders, pushing you back until your spine hit the rough bark of a tree.

“We’re going to be best friends by the end of this,” she promised you.

“What do you want?” you demanded.

“To have some fun.” Her eyes travelled over your body, tongue dragging over her lower lip, “we can have fun together, right?”

“I suppose it depends what kind of fun you’re talking about,” you muttered.

“The kind that leaves you feeling satisfied,” she replied, voice turning into the rasp of a whisper.

“I don’t think I want that kind of fun with you,” you replied.

“Really? You haven’t thought of me once?” Her face drew closer, “you haven’t considered what to would be like to play with me? You wouldn’t even have to hide it with me.”

“I’m not a toy,” you said, echoing Agatha’s words.

“Prove it.”

You shoved at her shoulders, but she didn’t relent, forcing you further into the bark of the tree. You gritted your teeth, jutting your chin out, refusing to be cowed by her. She had no power over you.

“You were so accommodating last time,” she said, “where’s that girl gone?”

“I know better now,” you said.

“She has done a number on you, hasn’t she?” Her head tilted to the side, “has she made you feel special?”

“It’s none of your business how she’s made me feel,” you snapped.

“You’re not the first, you know? She has a pattern. She finds a pretty little thing interested in witchcraft, invited them to study underneath her, and then she gets them underneath her in every single way,” she said, her words a sharp blade that you were sure was intended to slash at the vulnerable places inside of your psyche.

“I didn’t expect her to not have a history,” you said.

“Would you like to know our history?” she asked.

Damn her, you did. But you weren’t going to ask. You were never going to ask anything of this woman when Agatha so clearly did not like her.

“You do,” Rio said, delight, colouring her words.

“Agatha will tell me when she’s ready,” you said.

“Or I could tell you right now. No more curiosity. No more wondering exactly what we are to one another. I could tell you every single thing she and I have done together in excruciating detail,” she said, drawing closer again, “have you imagined what we’ve done to one another?”

You slapped a hand over her mouth, not wanting her to continue. Of course you’d thought about it, but each time it left with you with the taste of something sour on your tongue. You weren’t stupid enough to assume there hadn’t been anyone before you, but you hardly wanted her ex back in her life. You didn’t want to think about the two of them in bed together.

Something growled in your chest, and all you could focus on was how much you never wanted anyone else in bed with Agatha ever again. She was yours. Your’s and no one else’s. When you returned home, you’d make sure she knew.

A wet tongue ran over the skin of your palm. You made a noise, snatching your hand back from Rio’s mouth, wiping it dry on the denim of your jeans. She grinned.

“I could show you,” she offered.

“I’ve already said no to playing with you. What makes you think I would change my mind?” you snapped.

“Wouldn’t you like to know all the ways you could please Agatha? I’ve catalogued so many ways,” she said.

“I’m doing perfectly well on my own,” you said, jutting her chin up.

“You’ve got fire. That’s good. I’m sure she’ll enjoy dousing it,” she said.

“What do you want from me really? Because I know it’s not for a quick fuck against a tree,” you said, tired of the game.

“Don’t I?” Her smile was predatory.

“No. You want something and I want to know what it is,” you replied.

“Fine.”

She took a step back, finally releasing you. You crossed your arms over your chest, waiting, impatient and uncaring of the other woman’s wants. Her eyes swept over you, assessing, different from last time. It was as if now, without the facade, she was looking at you as a threat.

“You’re not the first student she’s been with,” she said.

“So you’ve said,” you replied coolly.

“Has she told you about Wanda yet?” she asked.

“Whatever we talk about is none of your business,” you replied.

“So she hasn’t.” She nodded her head like it confirmed everything for her, “you should ask. I think you’ll find her answer fascinating.”

You tipped your head to the side, eyes sweeping over her, trying to work out what she was hoping to gain from this, what the game was. You knew the game with Agatha, enjoying it, knowing that if one of you won, you both did. This time, this woman, was a mystery to you.

“You think her answer will make me run away,” you said, the words slow as you tried to work it out.

“I think you should know what happened,” she replied with a small shrug.

“You want me to leave her. I heard you. You think I will and then she’ll fall back into your arms.” You took a deep breath, “it doesn’t matter what she tells me, I’m not leaving her. Not ever.”

“The naivety of youth is endearing. You really can’t think of anything that would make you leave?” she asked, drawing closer again.

“No.” You were giving her nothing.

“Even if she’d done something really bad?” she asked, still approaching.

“No.”

“Even if she’s murdered someone?” she asked.

You laughed, the idea preposterous. But she remained serious as she watched you with increasing interest.

“Has she?” you asked.

“Would it matter?” she asked in return.

“You have no idea, do you?” you said, realising for the first time that you had the upper hand.

“No idea about what?” she asked.

“That there’s nothing about her that could make me leave,” you said, “I love her and I’m not going anywhere. So say what you need to say and do what you need to do, because if it’s a fight for her you want, then you’ve got it. She’s mine, and I’m never giving her up.”

Her lips ticked up into a half smile. You could feel the vibrations of anger in your body, coursing through you, determined to let this woman know that you weren’t the fluffy little bunny she seemed to think you were. You had claws and teeth and a fighting spirit. And something to burn for.

“Quite the performance,” Rio said, “and I think you really believe it.”

“You’ll see. Come graduation I’ll still be here and she still won’t want to see you,” you said, hardening your voice, your eyes, your stance.

“I could just report this to the administration,” she mused, “you’re hardly being subtle.”

Her thumb ran over the hickey Agatha had left on your skin not even an hour ago. You let her, arching your neck to give her better access, wondering if seeing it burned in her gut the way you knew it would in yours.

“That’ll just hurt her more than me,” you said.

“But she’ll blame you. Pretty little thing, unable to keep her mouth shut about taming the great Agatha Harkness. It shouldn’t surprise her. Not all toys are smart,” she said.

She pinched at the bruised skin, your hiss making her smile. You smacked her hand away, glaring.

“You wouldn’t risk it,” you said, “or else you would have done it already.”

“Perhaps.” She shrugged, “or maybe I’m just waiting to see how this plays out.”

She stepped away from you, tugging something out of her bag. A thick book thumped in the dirt by your feet. The same leather bound tome that Agatha had sent you to the library for all those weeks ago. You were hesitant as you picked it up.

“Give her my regards,” she said.

You brushed off the front cover, fingers lingering on the filigreed title. When you glanced up, she was gone, leaving you in the shadows with a book on witchcraft and a sense that something was coming that you weren’t sure you were ready for.

Whatever feeling had compelled you to walk had left your body, leaving it cold and desperate for something else. You turned your feet towards Agatha’s house, needing to see her again, needing to run your fingers through her hair. To whisper your devotion into her skin and remind her that you were a permeant fixture in her life.

You were nothing like the other students who had all left her behind.

You shoved the door open, dropping the book on the hall table and throwing off your shoes. You called her name, following her response into the kitchen.

“Feeling better, kitten?” she asked, thrown over her shoulder, focused on the drink she was pouring for herself.

“Yes,” you replied.

You wound your arms around her waist, lips finding their home on the skin of her neck. Wet kisses on her skin, tongue darting out to taste. She chuckled, neck arching towards you, giving you the access you craved.

“You’ve returned in a good mood,” she hummed.

“Uh huh,” you mumbled into her skin.

Your hand skimmed over the hem of her shirt, slow to push under it, seeking out her skin. She lent back against you, letting you hold up her weight. Your lips found their home on her skin, hands stroking higher and higher. She allowed you to indulge in her for a long moment.

“Rio found me in the park,” you admitted, hand climbing to cup one bare breast under her shirt.

“She did?” she asked, a growl in her voice.

“Mmhm,” you hummed, thumb brushing over a nipple, feeling it beginning to harden.

“And what did she want?” she asked, head tipping back onto your shoulder.

“To scare me off,” you replied, “she threatened to tell people about us.”

“And what did you say?” she hissed as you pinched at her nipple.

“That I’m not going anywhere.”

Your teeth sunk into the juncture of her neck and her shoulders. The pleased noise she made could have been due to your words or your actions, but you felt her arch into your touch. You were determined to leave your mark on her, the way she always did to you. You wanted to paint her skin purple and blue, sign your name over her body, make it so she couldn’t look in the mirror without thinking of you. You wanted to consume her, to sink beneath her skin and never return, to go up in a flash of flames and turn you both to ash.

“Are you trying to prove yourself to me?” she asked but she sounded breathless.

You didn’t answer, busy making a mess of her. Your other hand was running along the waistband of her trousers, fingertips ghosting in a teasing manner. You listened as her breathing grew heavy, revelling in the fact that you were doing it. It was all you. You were making her feel this way with nothing but your lips and your teeth and your hands.

It was an honour.

You took your time, playing with her body, tasting her, feeling her begin to melt into you. Your fingertips dipped into her trousers, finding the lace of her panties waiting for you. She sighed your name, so soft in her voice, and you wondered how much longer she would let you get away with this. You had to assume not much longer.

“Answer me, pet,” she said.

Her hand pressed to the back of your head, holding you in place, fingers tangling in your hair at the nape of your neck. Your tongue ran over her skin, her body shuddering against yours.

“All I’m proving,” you murmured into her skin, “is that you’re mine.”

Her laugh was more of a cackle, loud and braying, shaking her whole body. You hid your smile against her neck, hand pushing into her underwear. Her laughter choked off when you ghosted your finger over her clit, collecting her wetness on your fingertip.

“You really think that, do you?” she asked, breathless, almost a moan.

“I don’t think anything. I know you are,” you replied.

You brushed over her clit again, feeling her hips jump towards you. Rolling her nipple, you enjoyed the way she arched into your touch.

“You sound very certain,” she said, but her fingers were tightening in your hair, and you knew you were right.

Your fingers teased her entrance, enjoying when her hips pressed back against you.

“Do you want to see what I’ve learnt while I’ve been studying under you, professor?” you asked, keeping your mirth at bay.

“I think it’s time for your practical exam,” she replied.

With a finally tweak to her nipple, you retracted her hands from her bare body, gripping her hips. Softly sucking on the skin of her neck, you pressed your thighs together at the thought of what you might find there later.

You spun her, pressing her into the counter, finally kissing her the way you always wanted to. Tongue in her mouth, moans muffled, hot and dirty. You could spend the rest of your life doing exactly that. Her fingers in your hair were pulling, pain blooming over your scalp but all it made you want was to devour her.

Sinking to your knees, you looked up at her from under lowered lashes. She stared down at you, fingertips stroking over your cheeks. You felt breathless, knowing this goddess of a woman before you was all yours. She tilted your head up.

“You may begin.”

You helped her step out of her trousers, dropping them to the floor beside you. Your tongue dragged over your lower lip, looking at the wet patch on her panties. All of that because of you, for you, yours in ways that had your mouth watering. You pressed her hips to the counter, sucking on the vulnerable skin of her inner thigh. She groaned, a rumbling sound from her chest.

You sucked a matching hickey into the other thigh, tracing over it with soft fingertips as pride filled your chest. She chuckled but didn’t argue with you, letting you drink your fill. That chuckle broke off as your tongue pressed against the damp patch in her panties, tasting her on the silk. You hummed, placed a chaste kiss over her hot cunt, then dragged that scrap of lace and silk down her legs.

She glistened in the afternoon light. You ran your hands up her legs, soft skin warm in your palms. Dragging your gaze back up, you found her already looking down at you, eyes smouldering, lips curled in a smirk.

“My good pet,” she murmured.

You shivered, loving when she called you that. Her fingers in your hair gave a sharp tug, reminding you that you had a job to do. Leaning forward, you let your breath ghost over her folds, feeling her fingers tighten.

Your tongue gave a soft kitten lick, barely there, more a graze than a proper touch. Her body shuddered.

“Go on,” she said, “don’t be a tease.”

You tasted her properly, letting your tongue explore her folds. She pressed you closer. With a strong grip, you tugged her leg over your shoulder, pressing her more insistently against the counter. She moaned your name, soft and guttural and so beautiful. You groaned, her hips bucking against your mouth.

She tasted exquisite. You’d spend hours between her thighs, doing this, if only she’d let you. Days lost to making her cum over and over again with nothing but your mouth, not letting a single drop of her go to waste. She rocked against your mouth, heel pressing into your spine.

Wrapping your lips around her clit, you felt her tremble. The sounds she was making, the constant praise falling from her lips, the small gasps and moans, were addictive. The sweetest music you could imagine came from her. You shivered, sucking harder, wanting to see how loud you could get her. There was no reason to be quiet in her own home. No one was about to barge in on them, catching them doing something they both knew they shouldn’t. You wanted to unravel her.

Slowing, you lapped at her entrance, nuzzling against her cropped curls. Her fingers were harsh as they tugged, trying to press you closer again, commanding without words. You chuckled, tongue tracing the letters of your name over her clit, soft and gentle and definitely teasing.

“You’re a devil,” she gasped.

You hummed into her cunt. Her body was taut, almost trembling. You gave in to her, sucking on her bundle of nerves again, letting yourself drown in her. Her hips rocked against you, almost as if she wanted to grind against your face. You’d have let her, if you were in a different position, if she was above you instead of standing.

Later. You’d convince her to sit on your face later.

Your finger teased her entrance, the other hand gripping her thigh tightly. You wondered if you could bruise her as easily as she seemed to bruise you. If your hand prints would linger on her skin long after this moment was done. You hoped so. Some physical sign that you’d been there, with her, like this. That you had been offered the honour of bringing her so much pleasure.

You set a slow pace, wanting to draw this out, wanting to make sure you knew how to care for her body, that you knew how to make her lose her mind. She didn’t complain. You glanced up, finding she had rucked up her shirt with her free hand, playing with her own tit as you feasted on her. You’d never seen something so hot as Agatha Harkness touching herself, bringing herself pleasure while you tasted her. If you could, you’d take a picture of this view, paint it, hang it in all the art galleries of the world. There was nothing so beautiful. You were obsessed with this view.

You whimpered, muffled against her. Lazy eyes dragged down to you, hooded with pleasure. Her chest heaved, arching into her own hand, tweaking one of her nipples. You curled your fingers and the curse that fell from her lips was the most gratifying thing you’d ever heard.

You pressed her more insistently against the counter, tasting more, pressing deeper. She threw her head back, moaning like it was her job. It was a symphony in your ears.

When she came, it was with a guttural cry, loud in the kitchen. You kept lapping at her, not wanting to waste a drop of her arousal. Her fingers tightened in your hair, and you growled, refusing to leave that place between her legs. Her hips jumped towards you, and she groaned your name. You didn’t care, losing yourself in her.

“Pet,” she said, breathless and wanting and so very turned on. You knew her well enough to know what she sounded like when she was turned on.

You ignored her, fingers curling. Her hips were rocking again, without her say, and those same fingers that had been trying to drag you away were now pressing you closer. You swirled your tongue over her, almost certain you could feel her heartbeat throbbing in her cunt.

You weren’t soft this time, demanding her orgasm. Thrusting your fingers into her roughly, you kept twisting, curling, forcing her to give you more. Her head was tipped back, hand clutching the edge of the counter as she tried to keep her balance. You weren’t helping, only caring about how to get her to fall apart. A reminder that you knew her body so well.

Who cared if there had been others before you? Who cared if Rio thought she had a chance to be back here? You were the one in her home, in her bed, between her legs. You were the one she was choosing. And you were going to make it so she would never be able to forget you. You were going to burn yourself into her skin until you were as much a part of her as she’d become of you.

She clenched around your fingers, a cry ripped from her throat. Your grin was hidden against her, still buried between her legs. You cleaned her up, your tongue careful, and yet still you wanted more. When you brushed over her clit, she hissed. You nuzzled against her hip, a gentle kiss to her skin doing more than words could.

“C’mere, kitten,” she murmured, her fingers in your hair pulling you.

The ache in your knees was worth it as you climbed to your feet, lowering her foot back to the ground. She tugged you into her, uncaring as you crashed against her body, forcing her against the counter again. Her hand caught your chin and she kissed you, tasting herself on your tongue, a filthy groan muffled by your mouth. Her fingers dug in, nails scraping across your skin, ignoring the slick on your chin from your hard work.

“How’d I do?” you asked, breathless, curling your arms around her waist.

“Passed with flying colours, kitten,” she said.

She brushed your hair out of your face, so soft with you. You nuzzled against her, enjoying the feeling of her hand on your cheek. She gave you another kiss, softer, sweeter, turning you into goo as sunshine melted through your veins.

“There might be some truth to your statement,” she whispered, lips brushing yours, still sharing the same breath as you.

“Which one?” you asked, pulling her closer.

“The one about me being yours,” she replied.

Your smile stretched, overtaking your face. She shook her head, but her own lips were tipped up in a small smile. Tugging out of your hold, she slipped from between you and the counter, pulling her shirt over her head. Your mouth grew dry, eyes sweeping over her naked body. The bruises you’d left littering her skin had you shivering with pleasure.

“Come along, pet,” she said, walking out of the kitchen, “it’s time for your oral exam.”

You chased after her, not willing to be late to that particular exam.

[pickingupmymercedes]

Very first - Lewis Hamilton NSFW

Request: First time with Lewis. I had 5 requests for that and I hope I did it justice (sorry for how long it took for a couple of those requests)

pairing: Lewis Hamilton x Reader!

warnings: unprotected sexual activities, all sorts.

Wrap it before you tap it.

wordcount: +5K

a/n: Haven't written in first person in so long, but all the drafts felt better like this. Also, it's huge, ops. Hope you guys like it.

As always, I'm open for feedback, come say hi!

EXPLICIT CONTENT UNDER, -18 DO NOT INTERACT

______________________________________________________________

It was easy with him, too easy maybe, but that's what made it so damn nice.

“So,” I started, turning to him with a half-smile. “You want to come up?”

We’d spent the morning driving through the countryside, talking about everything and nothing—his races, my job, the ridiculousness of the price of avocados.

His eyes met mine, and I could see the question there, like he was trying to read me. “You sure?”

It was cute that he was being cautious, but come on, we both knew why I was asking. I nodded, keeping my voice light. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

I wasn’t sure if it was the countryside air or just the fact that we had spent the day away from the madness of London, but today felt different.

Calmer, somehow.

I led him up the stairs to my apartment, trying not to think too much about how it had been a while since I’d let anyone in here.

Literally and figuratively.

“Welcome to my humble abode” I said, pushing the door open and stepping inside.

He hesitated in the doorway, taking it all in.

My place was small, but it was mine—books, plants, a blanket that I was probably too attached to. It wasn’t flashy like the places he was used to, but I liked that about it.

“Nice place,” he said, stepping inside and closing the door behind him.

“It does the job” I replied with a shrug, kicking off my shoes. “Make yourself at home.”

He followed suit, slipping off his sneakers and setting them neatly by the door. “It suits you. Feels… grounded.”

I let out a soft laugh. “That’s one way to put it.”

He leaned against the counter as we headed into the kitchen to grab some water.

But when handed him the glass, and our fingers brushed, it was fireworks all over again. God, how was I still reacting like a teenager with a crush?

“Thanks,” he said, taking a sip. “So, today was fun.”

“It was,” I agreed, taking a drink to give myself something to do with my hands. “It’s nice to get out of the city for a bit. The countryside’s got this whole other vibe.”

“Yup” he said, setting his glass down. “Nice to just… let it go.”

“Even from the racing?” I teased, raising an eyebrow.

“Especially from the racing,” he chuckled, shaking his head.

There was a beat of silence, and I could feel the shift in the air between us, that tension that had been simmering since our last date starting to bubble up again.

The last time… well, things had gotten pretty heated until his phone rang, snapping us both out of it.

It was a close call, but I’d pulled back, sticking to my rule. No rushing into things. I’d done that before, and it never ended well.

But this time, he was making it very hard for me to stick by that rule.

I wanted him, and from the way he was looking at me, I’d take a pretty good guess he wanted me too.

I took a step closer, letting my hand find his. That simple touch was all it took for the tension to skyrocket, and before I knew it, we were closing the distance between us, lips crashing together in a kiss that was anything but tentative.

His hands were on my waist, pulling me closer as I wrapped my arms around his neck.

God, the man could kiss.

It was the kind of kiss that made you forget where you were, who you were, and why you ever thought not doing this was a good idea. His lips were soft, but the way he kissed me was anything but.

There was urgency there, a hunger that only fueled into my own, and I could feel it in every brush of his lips, every tug of his fingers on my shirt.

I pressed myself against him, deepening the kiss as I let my hands roam up his back, memorizing the feel of him.

The muscles there were as solid as they looked, and I couldn’t help but think that this man was literally built for this kind of thing.

I mean, I had the image of what he looked like shirtless—hell, half the world did—but feeling it under my fingers was a whole different story.

He let out a low groan against my lips, and I was losing myself in the kiss, in him, and for a second, I almost didn’t care about anything else. Almost.

He pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against mine as we both caught our breath. “Y/n…”

The way he said my name, low and rough, made me want to pull him back in and never let go.

But there was something in his voice that made me pause.

“Yeah?” I whispered, my hands still resting on his shoulders, my eyes closed shut.

“I just… I don’t want to rush you” he said, his voice soft but serious. “I know last time… I don’t want you to feel pressured.”

I pulled back just enough to look him in the eyes, my heart doing that stupid fluttering thing again.

Damn, he was really being careful, wasn’t he? But I appreciated it. More than I’d probably let on.

“Lewis” I started, taking a breath. “I want this. I want you. And I’m not saying that lightly.”

He studied me for a moment, like he was searching for any sign of hesitation. But there wasn’t any. Not this time.

“You’re sure?” he asked, his voice low, almost a whisper.

I nodded, my fingers tracing the line of his jaw tentatively. “I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

That was all it took.

He kissed me again, and this time, there was no holding back.

And damn, if it wasn’t about time.

We barely made it through the hallway before his lips found mine again, pressing me against the wall with just the right amount of pressure.

God, he was good at this. I could feel the heat between us, the urgency in his touch making it clear where this was heading.

“Bedroom?” I mumbled against his lips, not really wanting to break the kiss but knowing we couldn’t just do this against the wall like teenagers.

Although, thinking it back the idea didn’t sound so bad.

As soon as we stepped inside his eyes landed on the teddy bear sitting in the middle of my bed. Of course.

“What’s this?” he asked, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as he pointed to the bear.

I rolled my eyes, trying not to let him see how much I loved that he was trying to lighten the mood.

“That’s Mr. Bear, and he’s not going anywhere, so you’ll just have to deal.”

“Mr. Bear?” He picked it up, inspecting it like it was some kind of artifact. “Well, I guess I’ll have to make sure he approves.”

“He’s a tough cookie” I quipped, crossing my arms and giving him a look. “But you might want to focus on impressing me instead.”

“Oh, I plan on it,” he murmured, setting the bear down gently on the bedside table before turning back to me, the teasing glint in his eyes replaced with something much more intense.

He stepped closer, his hands finding the hem of my shirt. “Can I…?”

I sighed, half-annoyed, half-amused. “Lewis, if you ask me for permission one more time…”

He grinned, but there was something softer behind it. “Just making sure, love”

“I know,” I cut him off, my voice softer too. “But trust me, I want this. I want you.”

He held my gaze for a moment longer, then nodded, slipping his hands under my shirt and lifting it over my head.

His fingers grazed my skin, causing goosebumps down my skin as he took his time, clearly trying to be as gentle as possible, maybe even allowing for the time for me to back off.

It was sweet, really, but I was starting to get impatient.

“Lewis,” I said, a warning in my voice.

He chuckled, his hands moving to the waistband of my jeans. “Okay, okay. I’ll stop asking.”

“Good” I muttered, stepping out of my jeans as he slid them down my legs.

When I was finally standing in just my lingerie, his eyes roamed over me, and I could see the want—was it also awe? —in his eyes.

“I don’t think it’s fair,” I said, my voice teasing as I reached for the hem of his shirt.

“What’s not fair?” he asked, his eyes meeting mine with a tense stare.

“That you’re fully dressed” I replied, tugging at his shirt. “Especially when half the world uses your abs as gym inspiration.”

He laughed then; a deep, genuine sound that made my heart skip a beat. “Well, we can’t have that, can we?”

He raised his arms, letting me pull the shirt over his head. And yeah, the man was every bit as ripped as I had imagined.

I already knew what was under there, but damn, it was something else to see it up close like this.

And the tattoos. Those damn tattoos.

I ran my hands over his chest, tracing the lines of his muscles, and he watched me with that same intense gaze, like he was studying every move I made.

It was intoxicating, the way he looked at me, like I was the only thing in the world that mattered at that second.

“Better?” he asked, his voice low as he leaned in, his lips brushing against my ear.

“Much” I whispered, my fingers trailing down to his abs, feeling them tense under my touch.

His breath hitched slightly, and I couldn’t help but smile.

It was nice to know that I wasn’t the only one feeling a little overwhelmed by this. He might be Lewis Hamilton, but right now, he was just a guy standing in front of me, and I was the one making him nervous.

He softly guided my chin up and smiled, that stupidly soft and loving smile, before leaning into my lips, my hands exploring his back, his shoulders, anywhere I could reach.

He took his time though, his hands sliding up my sides to my back, and only then pausing at the clasp of my bra.

With his lips still hovering over mine he breathed into me. “Can I…?”

I rolled my eyes, but there was no real annoyance behind it. “Yes, Lewis. You can.”

And with that – and with his lips back on mine – he undid the clasp, letting the bra fall away as his hands moved over my now bare skin

Finally. And damn, if I wasn’t loving every second of it.

His lips started to trail from my collarbone down to the swell of my breasts, taking detours to worship every inch of skin he found on the way.

By the time his mouth reached my belly, I was practically trembling with anticipation.

When his fingers brushed the lace of my underwear, I couldn’t help the hiss that escaped my lips.

He paused, looking up at me with those deep, dark eyes that seemed to see right through me. Without a word, he moved back up to capture my mouth with his, as if soothing the impatience brewing inside me.

And I was impatient. The slow, deliberate pace was driving me insane, and he knew it.

I kissed him back hard, my hands roaming down his sides until they found the waistband of his boxers.

I was more than ready to speed things up, and as I slipped my hand under the fabric, I was pleasantly surprised to find him already half-hard.

“Guess the rumors weren’t exaggerating,” I murmured against his lips, my fingers brushing over his length.

He responded with a low growl, one hand angling my head as he kissed me again, harder this time, effectively shutting me up.

But he never stopped me from continuing my exploration. I traced the outline of his dick through the fabric, feeling the heat of him, the way he twitched under my touch.

Knowing I could get this kind of reaction from him was a high I probably wouldn’t get over for a minute.

When he finally broke the kiss, I met his gaze, silently asking for permission to go further. “It’s all yours, babe.” He chuckled, a sound that made me want to attack him and hide all at once.

I hooked my fingers under the waistband of his boxers and tugged them down.

The moment his dick sprang free, I couldn’t help the way my breath caught in my throat.

He wasn’t impossibly long, but he was definitely above average, and the girth—God, the girth—was enough to make my pulse quicken.

He was watching me, of course, catching every flicker of reaction on my face.

When he noticed my wide-eyed surprise, he lifted my chin, forcing me to look at him. His smile was warm, reassuring even “We’ll take it slow.”

I nodded, grateful for his patience even as it frustrated me. I returned his smile, my fingers wrapping around his length. His breath hitched the moment I touched him, and I couldn’t help but bat my eyes at him playfully.

“Gosh, you’re trouble” he muttered, his voice rough with desire.

I grinned, taking my time as I began to pump him, feeling the weight and heat of him in my hand.

When I reached the tip, I leaned down to press a kiss there, delighting in the way he shivered at the contact.

“Sensitive here, huh?” I teased, looking up at him.

Whatever retort he had in mind was lost when he dragged me back up to his lips, his hands firm on my hips as he effortlessly maneuvered me onto the bed, pressing my back against the headboard.

His eyes, dark and intense, locked onto mine. “I’m good, love. But we need to make sure you’re ready” he murmured, his statement a promise to my ears.

Before I could respond, his mouth was on me again, trailing kisses down my body with single-minded focus.

When he reached my inner thighs, he took his time kissing through the fabric of my lace underwear, and I couldn’t help the whimper that escaped my lips.

“Don’t tease,” I breathed, hating how desperate I sounded.

He giggled—that soft, infectious sound that I’d grown to love. “Just making sure” he whispered, his fingers hooking around the strings on my hips, slowly pulling the lace down and off.

As he finally took in the sight of my exposed cunt, his expression shifted into something almost reverent, like he was savoring the moment. He leaned down, leaving featherlight kisses on my outer lips, the gentle touch driving me wild.

“Lewis” I groaned, the frustration in my voice clear. “Please.”

He smiled against my skin, his breath hot against my thigh. “Patience, love. I’m just getting started.”

The first tentative lick sent a shockwave through my body, and my hands immediately grabbed at the sheets, fingers curling tight.

Every nerve on me was on fire, heightened by the slow, deliberate pace he was setting.

And just when I thought I might float away, he hooked an arm around my hips, anchoring me in place. His other hand found mine, fingers intertwining, as if he needed to connect with me anymore.

His eyes never left mine, and even if I wanted, I couldn’t really stop watching as his tongue lapped up my clit. A gasp escaping my lips as the pleasure spiked through me.

“Fuck,” I muttered, barely coherent.

He continued, his tongue moving with just the right pace, not rushing, just giving me enough to keep me teetering on the edge.

When he felt I was wet enough, he let go of my hand, moving it down to tease at my entrance with a single digit.

“I’ll need words from here, love” he murmured, his voice muffled. “Tell me what you like.”

“Don’t stop,” I managed to say, my voice shaky, almost pleading. “Just—don’t stop.”

With a grin, he slid a single finger inside me, his own hiss vibrating through the room as he felt my walls.

“You’re so tight,” he breathed, a note of awe in his voice. “This is gonna be heaven.”

He took his time, exploring with just that one finger, feeling around until he found the spot that had me squirming under him. When he hit it, I couldn’t help the moan that tore from my throat, my hips bucking involuntarily.

“Found it” he said with a satisfied smile, his eyes locking onto mine.

Then he added a second finger, the light stretch already making me gasp.

He started a scissoring motion, opening me up, getting me ready. All the while, his tongue didn’t let up, lapping at my clit in perfect rhythm, just enough to keep me on edge without pushing me over.

The wet sounds filled the room, mingling with my ragged breathing and his low murmurs of praise.

He was studying me, like he was learning exactly how to make me fall apart under him.

After what felt like an eternity of this sweet torment, he finally pulled back, sitting on his heels.

I watched as he switched to his middle and ring fingers, angling them just right before sliding back into me.

The feeling was delicious, and when he curled his fingers and found that spot again, I cried out, my hips lifting off the bed.

“Easy” he murmured, his free arm holding me in place as he started a relentless up-and-down motion.

His thumb brushed over my clit, making my breath caught in my throat and my head spin.

I was completely at his mercy, the pleasure building and building until I could hardly breathe.

The wet noises from where his fingers worked inside me were obscene, mingling with the desperate little sounds I couldn’t hold back.

He kept on the soft praises, but they were swallowed by my moans as I got closer and closer to the edge.

And then it hit.

My vision went white, and all I could do was hold onto his arm on his hips, feeling the waves of pleasure crash over me again and again. My whole body tensing before it felt like it had shattered into a million pieces.

He didn’t stop until he was sure I’d ridden out every last bit of it, his fingers slowing their movements but never letting up until I was trembling beneath him.

Only then did he pull his fingers out.

When I finally came back to myself, I found him watching me with a look that was equal parts smug and adoring.

He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to my lips as if sealing the moment. “You okay?” he whispered, his voice gentle now.

I could only nod, too blissed out to form a coherent thought, let alone words.

And then he had the nerve to ask if I had one more in me, and again all I could do was nod.

But apparently, that wasn’t good enough for him. “I need words,” he insisted, and barely managed to get out “Fucking hell, you’re not leaving me without the rest.”

He laughed, the sound rich and warm, and I wanted to roll my eyes, but I couldn’t deny how endearing it was.

How many green flags could one guy have? Annoyingly checking every damn box.

When he went to his wallet, I knew what was coming next.

He handed me the condom packet, giving me that same patient, earnest look, like he was asking if I could handle one more thing.

I reached for him, giving him a few more pumps just to feel him twitch in my hand. Sliding the condom on, I could feel the heat building again, a rush of anticipation making my heart race.

He adjusted our position like he was handling something precious—placing a pillow just under my back, so deliberate and thoughtful.

But when he rested his dick on my inner thigh, all those coherent thoughts I had left my brain like it was suddenly a foreign language, and I remembered the girth.

Holy shit. How was I supposed to handle that?

The weight of him, the sheer size, and the fact that I was supposed to take it in?

Was this man sculpted by the gods or what?

And why did I have to get stuck on how considerate he was instead of focusing on the absolute insanity about to happen?

Before I could spiral any further, he came up to me, his lips brushing mine, dragging me back into the present. “We’ll take all the time you need, okay?” his voice like honey, smooth and sweet.

And there I was, rolling my eyes again, even as the warmth spread through me.

I wanted to snap back, something sassy on the tip of my tongue, but then his tip entered me, and all I could do was hiss at the sensation.

He kissed me through the first thrust, his dick practically ripping through my walls, and my hands automatically went to his back, nails digging into his skin, holding on for dear life.

I tried to breathe, tried to adjust to the stretch, but when he finally stopped, I realized he wasn’t even fully in yet.

My eyes shot down, and sure enough, he was still focused, his breathing controlled, and all I heard was a low murmur, “Geez, you really are tight.”

I felt his arms on either side of me, solid and reassuring, and I squeezed them gently. His eyes instantly found mine, filled with concern, and I had to smile softly. “Move, Lewis. Just please, move.”

And then he did, thrusting into me with an agonizing slowness, deeper with each motion, until finally, I felt his balls press against my ass, and he sighed like he’d found what he was looking for.

My mind, however, was a different story.

Holy shit, how was I still breathing? I was split open in the best way possible, and all I could think was how the hell was this man real.

I was sure each thrust was going to create its own memory, and I was teetering between wanting to scream at the top of my lungs and begging him to go even harder.

But there was something about how he moved—deliberate, careful, like he was savoring every second, every reaction I gave him.

The way he looked at me, like I was the only thing that mattered in the world, was enough to push me over the edge again. And I could tell he was holding back, trying to keep control, trying to make sure I was okay, even as his own need was practically vibrating through his body.

God, I’m so screwed, and not just in the physical sense.

I was falling, fast and hard, and there was no stopping it now.

Not when he felt this good, not when he was this good to me.

Every thrust made me crave more, made me cling to him tighter, made me want to lose myself in him completely.

Lewis’s focus was entirely on me, and it was like he was memorizing every gasp, every twitch, every reaction.

It was overwhelming, in the best possible way, but still I needed more.

I wanted to be the one in control, to feel him from a different angle, to see what this man—this ridiculous, considerate, and sexy man—would do when I took the reins.

Leaning into his ear, I whispered, “I want to ride you.”

The words were barely out of my mouth before I felt him tense beneath me, half-worried, half-hopeful.

It was adorable, really, how he tried to mask his excitement with concern.

“Are you sure about that?” he asked, and there was that hint of amusement in his voice, but I could also hear the edge of desperation.

Did he really want this as much as I did, maybe even more?

“We’ll take it slow, right?” I replied, trying to keep my voice steady despite the pounding in my chest.

I sat up, pulling away just enough to guide him to sit on the bed, and as I moved into his lap, I could feel his heart on his chest.

Slowly, I lowered myself onto his dick, feeling every inch stretch me again, filling me completely.

My lips parted in an involuntary gasp, my eyes squeezing shut as I adjusted to the sensation.

His hands found my waist, gripping tightly as if grounding himself, and when I finally opened my eyes, he was staring at me with that same soft smile that always managed to break through my sarcasm.

I couldn’t help but smile back, pulling him into a kiss, the kind that had me wrapping me around him.

I started moving, rocking back and forth, feeling the friction build and spiral.

The kiss broke when he moaned against my lips, a sound that only spurred me on, making my moves harder, seeking more.

His hands guided me, helping me rise and fall on him, and every time his tip brushed against my cervix, I saw starts. It was so intense it almost bordered on pain.

I let out a cry, my body trembling at the sensation, and he immediately stilled, concern flashing in his eyes.

“Are you okay?” he asked, and it was almost ridiculous how serious he was, but also incredibly sweet.

I looked down at him, half breathless, half in awe of how he managed to be so considerate, even in the heat of the moment. “Going to be even better when you drag that other orgasm out of me, like you promised.”

That was all the encouragement he needed. He started to thrust up and I matched him, riding him faster, until I could feel that familiar tension coil tightly in my belly.

I wasn’t going to last much longer, and by the way he was groaning beneath me, neither was he.

A few more thrusts, and I stilled, holding him down by his abdomen, feeling the shift in him as he realized what was happening.

He searched my face, and then his expression shifted as he felt my walls clenching around him, my legs shaking as I came undone.

I couldn’t keep myself upright, collapsing into his chest as wave after wave washed over me.

Lewis took that moment to start thrusting again, riding out my orgasm, and I was vaguely aware of the way he was holding me, like he didn’t want to let go.

I could feel his rhythm faltering, and it wasn’t long before he let out a deep grunt, his fingers digging into my waist as he held me in place and his moans were all I heard.

We were both breathing hard, tangled together, and for a moment, everything else faded away.

It was just us, in this moment, and I couldn’t help the ridiculous surge of affection for him.

Who knew I’d end up here, wrapped up in the arms of a guy like Lewis? But here I was, completely wrecked and somehow, already craving more.

As I eased off his lap, I heard a low moan escape his lips, and I giggled as I looked down at him, sprawled out on the bed with a stupid grin plastered across his face.

"Enjoying yourself, are we?" I teased, reaching down to carefully remove the condom, trying to catch the mess inside. He didn't even respond, just lay there looking like the cat who got the cream.

I slipped off to the bathroom, tossing the condom in the toilet before taking a moment to pee—because there was no way I was dealing with a UTI when I had Lewis to myself like that.

And just that thought was ridiculous on its own.

When I came back into the bedroom, Lewis immediately pulled me into his arms, almost like he was afraid I’d vanish if he didn’t hold on tight enough.

He was sweet in the aftercare, his voice soft as he asked, “How was it? How do you feel?”

I could hear the concern laced in his tone, but that grin was still there, tugging at the corners of his lips.

It was impossible not to smile back, even as I decided to mess with him a little. My fingers wandered lower, tracing the lines of his lower waist, and I looked up at him with a teasing glint in my eyes.

“You know” I started, trying to keep a straight face, “I always thought you were a shower… I’m glad to see you’re also a grower.”

Lewis giggled, his chest vibrating under my chin as he shook his head in mock disbelief. “Really?”

“Yeah” I grinned, pressing a kiss to his chest. “I mean, it’s only fair to acknowledge all of your… talents.”

He shook his head again, but I could see the satisfaction in his eyes. “And here I thought I had you speechless.”

“You did” I assured him, my fingers dancing across his skin again. “But I can’t stay quiet for long.”

He chuckled, pulling me closer, his hand running up and down my back in soothing strokes. “I’m glad. It’s part of your charm.”

I rolled my eyes at that, but there was no denying the warmth that spread through me at his words. “Yeah, well, you’re not so bad yourself.”

His grin softened into something more tender as he looked down at me. “You make it easy to be sweet.”

I pretended to look annoyed, but the smile on my face gave me away. “Okay, that was disgustingly cute. But fine, I’ll allow it.”

“Oh, you’ll allow it?” he teased, his hand coming up to gently brush my cheek “What if I want to be disgustingly cute more often?”

I hummed thoughtfully, pretending to consider it. “I guess I could get used to it… as long as you keep up the other stuff too.”

He giggled again, that carefree sound that I was quickly falling for. “Deal. But just so you know, I’m planning on sticking for a bit.”

I smirked, resting my hand on his chest. “I think I can manage that.”

______________________________________________________________

TAGLIST - @saturnssunflower @xoscar03 @chocolatediplomatdreamerzonk @itsmrshamilton @vicurious28

@0710khj @thecubanator2 @neilakk @bigratbitchsworld @adriswrld

@fearfam69691 @cmleitora @goldenroutledge @timmychalametsstuff @jpgnsf

@priopp123 @strqirlhrts @hmmmmm-01 @bisexual-babygirl-mj @bebesobrielo

If you’d like to be added to my taglist you can leave a comment or send me a dm/ask.

[caotictimmy]

can you do an anya x female reader where the reader comforts her and they steal a sweetener packet to share

A non acually kiss me. Jk.. or am I? But I love this idea so fucking much. Idk if you wanted pre crash or post crash but I’m gonna do post crash.

But thank you for your request anonnie 💋💋💋💋

Content arting : Period talk for like a sentence

Anya has been acting different.. Everyone has after the crash. But you suspected something was just wrong. So when everyone was busy doing something. You decided to scout her out to figure what was wrong and help!

You were walking the halls to the medical. Before you heard something. The soft sounds of sobbing. You immediately thought to Anya. When you turned the corner. You saw her sitting by the closed medical door, knees to her chest, face in her hands. Sobbing uncontrollably. “Anya! What’s wrong?”, you quickly rushed to her side. She looked up from her hands, looking a bit embarrassed that she got caught crying.

“I-I..I’m sorry you shouldn’t see me like this”, she hiccuped out, through the tears still streaming down her rose tinted cheeks. “Hey! Hey! It’s ok, you can tell me what’s wrong Anya.” You whispered in a calm way, trying to make her feel better. She put her face back in her hands. “J-Ji-Jimmy get’s so mad when he has to f-feed curly-“ she said stuttering through the sentence. Trying to catch her breath. “His-his p-p-pills.” She sobbed harder mentioning the pills. “I can’t take his sounds of agony!” She looked up at you through her tear stricken eyes. “God his sounds. His awful sounds! It’s like they haunt every time I’m conscious!” Anya continued.

“Anya. I’ll start giving him his pills. I don’t need our wonderful nurse stressing anymore.” You said, trying to light the mood up. Which seemed to work as her frown turned into a small smile. “Y-you’d really do that for me, what about jimmy-“. You cut her off, “I’ll start worrying about jimmy when he pulls that big stick out of his ass. Just worry about yourself.” Anya giggled a bit when you mentioned Jimmy’s large ego. “Are you sure you’re okay with giving Curly his pain killers.” She asked warily. “I’m more than 100% positive.” You said. Giving her a confident grin. Which made Anya let out her own sweet smile.

“Now come on, I know exactly what to cheer you up.” You said. Grabbing her hand, pulling her up with you. Before dragging her to the kitchen. Anya gave you a confused look. But she still followed. You bring her to where you could get the packets of different substances. But most importantly. Sweetener. “Why are we by the packet maker. Isn’t only the captain only able to use it?” Anya asked, her look of confusion still evident on her face. Her eyes still glazed over from crying. “Anya would you like to see a magic trick?” You said with a cheeky grin.

“Uh..sure” she said with an awkward, but intrigued smile. You turn back to the packet maker. You start to rapidly push all the buttons at once, until the junky machine let out aloud beep. Anya let out an audible gasp when she heard the beep. She then proceeds to watch you put the code in for the sweetener. Even more to her surprise. It starts making the sweetener. “How.. how did you do that? Wait how did you even figure that out?” She said with amazement. The sadness laced completely gone by now. “All I have to say is never get in-between me when I’m having my period sugar cravings.” You laughed. Smirking wider as she let out her own laugh. You then looked back to the machine sweetener packet was done.

“Where do you decided where we share this together m’lady”. You teasingly say. Jokingly doing a curtsy in front of Anya. “How about outside the medical.” She said, snorting at your silly action. “What ever m’lady wants!” You said. Linking your arms together as you walk back to the medical. Things might be chaos on the tulpar, but these sweet moments made everything a bit better.