#his facial expression and body language tell you everything

[sunshineandlyrics]

...

[yanderenightmare]

♡ TW: NSFW, noncon, yandere, stalking

♡ gn reader

There’s something very off about your roommate… something eerie that makes you keep your distance.

You can’t describe exactly what it was about the boy except that you felt it from the second you shook his hand. The way he introduced himself… you don’t know… you had this unshakable feeling as though he already knew you from somewhere.

It’s a weird thought to have of someone you’d only just met. You knew you were probably just being paranoid. It was your first time sharing your space with someone other than family, so it might very well just have been you being apprehensive.

Not that you’d ever let it show, though. You didn’t want things between the two of you to be awkward when you’d be living together for the next three years of getting your degree.

You just needed to get used to him, is what you told yourself. 

So you laughed at his jokes and listened to his brags with a polite smile as though nothing was wrong, even when he continued being strange. 

For starters, he had almost nothing to unpack – as though he only planned to stay about a month or two. Everything seemed newly bought as well – unused and sterile, like a movie set.

You don’t know… maybe he was a minimalist even though he didn’t seem the type.

It shouldn't really have made your skin crawl the way it did. But whether it made sense or not, you couldn’t shake the discomfort – walking around in a constant wariness of him. 

Everything about him seemed like a half-assed theatre act.

You’d see him in the lecture hall, walking from here to there, buying strawberry milk from the vending machines. His textbooks remained piled on his desk in your shared dorm room – but you’d never seen any one of them open. And when curiosity and suspicion made you flip up one of his notebooks, you found it was all blank except for a few shitty doodles on the first page. You never see him cram for exams or writing any papers. You don’t think you’ve ever even seen him pull a laptop out of his bag.

It’s like he isn't a student at all…

And something about the rest of his performance just rubs you the wrong way.

It’s as though he’s practiced all his facial expressions in the mirror – as though he’s studied social cues and body language in a human behavior manual instead of having learned them naturally. It makes you uneasy – how his smile is always a bit too wide and a bit too stiff to be genuine and how all his words are like dialogue off a script.

Somehow, it feels as though he’s wearing a second skin – hiding something… something that’s not quite right on the inside.

It grosses you out when he tries flirting with you. But you do your best to hide it. Brushing him off by changing the topic, inviting other friends when he asks to eat lunch together, laughing off his attempts as though he’s making jokes – always excusing yourself when you end up alone with him for too long. 

You try to avoid him as much as you can. Pretending to study when you’re in the dorm together – and otherwise going to bed early.

He tells you he’ll see you at the party later when you leave to pregame with some friends. You can only muster a smile and a curt “Sure.” before leaving. 

As for seeing each other later – you hope you don’t.

But of course you do. You can’t seem to escape him. Everywhere you go, he follows.

It doesn’t help that all your friends think he’s so hot, immediately calling him over, gushing over him as though he’s some type of celebrity. They don’t understand your reservation – if they were you, they’d have fucked him the first night of moving in together.

It’s not like you don’t find him attractive as well. You admit he is ridiculously handsome, and if the circumstances were different, you’d say you lucked out being assigned the same dorm room as him. 

But as it were – he gives you the same feeling as spotting a spider.

He’s got his arm slung around your shoulder as the two of you walk back together. 

He had a little bit too much to drink… And despite your thoughts about him, even you didn’t have the heart to say no when he was practically hanging off of you – cheeks dusted pink with his mothlike lashes droopy, drunkenly mumbling while blinking up at you with those awfully bright eyes, asking you to take him home and tuck him in.

“Ugh...” You sigh.

It’s a struggle carrying the nearly two-meter-tall boy, almost having to drag him down the hallway before stopping short at your door. He’s drooling on your shoulder with murmurs of sleep as you search for the key – not exactly sober yourself.

When inside, his bigger body presses you against the closed door – his face buried in the grove of your neck with slurred words.

“Dude.” You state with a grimace – as if saying his name was too much of a burden – sighing as you haul him off with the same exasperation of a parent putting an unruly child to bed. 

Ducking beneath his arm, you leave him kissing the door – thinking to yourself how you really should put him to bed before he can embarrass himself any further.

You open your mouth to tell him when his temper finally makes him grab your arm a little harder than intended. 

“This isn't how this is supposed to go.” 

You flinch instinctively, and his grip tightens in return. “Hey?”

You can’t see his face with the way he’s got his head bowed. But you don’t like the snuff growl that passes under his breath as he utters the next words.

“Why are you so difficult?”

You do more than flinch this time, yanking yourself out of his harsh grip before he can apologize for it – taking on a deliberate offensive stance. 

With your feet squared and your hands up to keep him at a distance, you look ready to try fending him off.

Something about it seems premeditated – something in the wary way you eye him. You don’t even look all that surprised – as if you had suspected this side of him existed all along and had only been waiting for it to surface.

Oddly, t feels like something you’ve kept secret from him – as though you’ve acted comfortable all this time when, in reality, you’ve been clutching your mental pearls.

He realizes then why you haven’t returned his affection – why all you’ve ever given him is cold-hearted rejection…

Of course. It’s obvious now – so obvious it’s funny. Even though he’s been the one parading around like someone else, it feels as though you’ve been doing the exact same thing around him – hiding your discomfort behind a sweet smile – hiding it so well that not even his keen eyes have picked up on it…

But it’s clear now….

You’ve both been playing a game of pretend – just a pair of perfect strangers – who've now shared their hand. Leaving you both feeling naked – raw out in the cold – just waiting for the next move.

“I guess the gig is up, huh?” He rasps, fingers twitching at his sides – looking ready to pounce.

You couldn’t defend why you'd kept the pepper spray in the drawer of your nightstand – but you were glad you had. Rushing for it, hands shaking as you pulled the handle and grabbed the bottle – twisting around and spraying it right in the face of your roommate.

He cries out from the attack, clutching his face with both hands – staggering back with a series of gruff curse words.

Still, he guards the door – preventing your escape.

The groaning turns to croaks instead, and you think he might be crying. It’s tough to see through the hands covering his eyes – but when he looks back up again, despite the red burns left by your pepper spray on his puffy teary cheeks, he’s got a smile on his face. 

He’s not crying – he’s laughing – as the hand covering his face slowly drags down the crazed expression – over crazed eyes, bloodshot and wet, staring at you through the gaps between his fingers.

The look alone is enough to give you goosebumps.

But when you try to make a run for it, he grabs you again – and this time, you’re not able to shake him off. It feels as though the tight grip splinters your skin as he pulls you back – shoving you down against your bed.

“Can’t say it hasn’t been fun, roomie. But I’m not completely satisfied yet.”

He’s on top of you before you get a kick in – pinning your wrists above your head as he leans over you – bright eyes gleaming with that sickness you’d almost convinced yourself you’d been imagining. You opt to shout, but he’s soon got his other hand clasped tight over the bottom half of your face before you get a sound out.

“You were supposed to fall in love with me, you know?” His voice is airy as though he’s confessing – but also on the brink of laughter as though he’s telling a joke in class. “That’s how it goes in the movies.”

You swallow beneath his hand – eyes peeled, heart beating so hard it hurts.

His eyes wander – roaming your neck and chest. It’s awfully quiet before he speaks again. “But I suppose we can act out a different plot line...” 

You whimper at his suggestive tone – already feeling the weight of his intentions bearing down on you, crushing you free of air. 

“I like romcoms, but horror stories have their charm, too...”

You shudder beneath the warmth of his breath, screaming into his palm once his warm lips mouth your throat, sucking on the tender skin with tongue and teeth in between words.

“An unfortunate college student finds themself moving into the same dorm as their unhinged stalker…”

There’s a thrill in his tone – something crazed and terrifying as he goes on.

“The two play a psychological game of endurance, trying to balance college and privacy while sharing the same space...”

Something hard and gross steadily ruts against your thigh. His voice gets thicker – breath hotter on your neck. The kisses turn sloppy. Tears burn your cheeks.

“Everything seems to lead up to a party held before Spring break, a fateful night on which their endurance finally runs out.”

He groans, and you sob.

“A rejected kiss, a can of pepper spray, a shared bed. What happens next?”

♡ BNHA – Denki, Kirishima, Hawks ♡ JJK – Mahito, Gojo, Yuuta ♡ HQ – Miya twins ♡ CSM – Yoshida ♡ BLLK – Nagi

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

Full fic with smut available here:

[wlfchnlv3r]

stray kids kinks

warnings: 🔞, mdni!!, kink, smut, size kink, bondage, forced orgasm, threesome, mirror sex, body worship, chocking, praise kink, bondage, overstimulation, sex, unprotected sex

note: english is not my first language so be gentle pls

Bangchan

- you love how big Bangchan is and the size difference between you guys

- he also has a size kink FOR SURE, he loves seeing his cock slip into you inch by inch

- Bangchan remembers your first time together, you were a whiny little mess while he was trying to fit into you

- “stay still and take my cock like the good girl you are”

Hyunjin

- Hyunjin loves looking in the mirror while he fucks you.

- he would be absolutely stunned by the whines you make and your facial expression; the pleasure would be so evident on your face.

- “look in the mirror sweetheart, look at you”

- he would do anything to you: tits play, fingering, overstimulation, everything.

Changbin

- this man screams chocking, whether it is with is cock or his hands… he loves it.

- he would loves to curl his fingers around your neck, making difficult for you to breath (just the necessary)

- he also appreciates when you to take control while riding him; fucking yourself on his thick dick.

- loud noise and moans!!

Felix

- Felix loves you and want to make sure you know it.

- he would worship your entire body, kissing and biting every inch of it (he adores your tits!)

- he is also a bit territorial, whether is hickey or love bites, Felix wants everybody to know you are his little girl.

- after care is the only option! he would love to take care of you during the aftermath.

Lee know & Jisung

- you are probably in a open relationship with Lee know e Jisung, and you guys had a few threesome (maybe more then a few times).

- double penetration is something you love, the first time was strange but u started to get use to it and now it’s something you hope to achieve!

- you guys usually find a lot of new sex position and use sex toys to make your fantasies come true.

- sometimes you watch them having sex, and viceversa; Jisung is a total sub when it comes to being fucked by Lee know.

Jeongin

- Jeongin is for the random sex, the everyday sex, like the one’s that u guys have on the sofà while watching a movie.

- OVERSTIMULATION, he would keep pushing into you after you cum just for fun; Jeongin wants to see how long u can last before you start shaking for him.

- sex. has. to. be. fun for him! That means he would probably make stupid jokes while he push into you just to make you laugh.

- he is an after sex cuddle lover, this guy loves to have you in his arms while caressing your cheek with his thumb.

Seungmin

- Seungmin loves public sex, the adrenaline that he feels in trying not to be discovered. like fingering you under the table during a family dinner, that’s something he would definitely do.

- the intensity of sex dipends on his mood; usually rougher when somethings piss him of.

- “tell me baby, do you like how it feels?”

- he is also loud during sex, moans and groans are his way of showing you how much he’s enjoying the moment.

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[buuniebaby]

your first time with hamzah 🙈🙈

THERE’S A FIRST TIME FOR EVERYTHING. 🎀

includes: losing your virginity, awkward sex talk, very sweet sex ! 💝

word count 3.2k purr

you’re too tired for this.

you and hamzah are becoming sleep deprived, something you usually do together: come over to each others houses, watch a movie, eat food your stomach will regret in the morning. it’s been a tradition since you guys were just friends.

even now as you’re dating, it still feels.. the same. not that you’re complaining; you love having a partner who’s also a best friend to you. it just feels like there should be some sort of change, but you can’t put your finger on it.

it’s 2 in the morning now. you and hamzah have watched about 3 shitty 2000s movies, enjoying every moment of each one. your brain feels absolutely fried, and you can only imagine his is as well.

“are you a virgin?” hamzah spoke suddenly, but also casually. a little too casually. you choke on your own spit at that, face turning red with embarrassment.

“…what?” is all you can reply back. “what- why?” you say, eyebrows furrowing at him. your voice has noticeably pitched up.

“i dunno. just tell me.” hamzah says, rolling his eyes. you hate how confident and sassy he is, but you’re also sort of attracted to it.

“you’re so weird.” you practically squeal, jokingly. you grab onto a pillow as you fall back first onto the bed. “why do you even wanna know? that’s so like, random.” you ask, more genuine this time.

“i guess,” hamzah starts, but then pauses, almost as if he doesn’t know the answer himself.

“i was just kinda thinking. like, we don’t really talk about sex, ever. and we don’t have to- I don’t wanna bring it up if you’re uncomfortable. I’m just like, curious if you’d be down to talk about it.” he rambles, making up his words as he goes. you furrow your brows as he speaks, still kind of confused. you know there had to be something that started it, you just aren’t sure what.

“oh. well like,” you flush, sort of embarrassed to admit what you’re about to say. “yeah, i am.”

“a virgin?” hamzah asks, head tilting like a lost puppy.

“yes, idiot. what else would i be talking about?” you reply back sarcastically.

“you’re right, you’re right,” he banters with you. “I just- I guess I’m surprised.”

you perk back up, sitting yourself upright again.

“surprised.. that im a virgin?” you question, raising an eyebrow.

“i guess.. i dunno. I just feel like you’re like, too pretty to not have found someone who wants you like that.” he rambles. you feel a blush creep onto your cheeks again, knowing he’ll always praise you for your pretty face.

“i mean, I’ve found a lot of people who want me,” you say, rolling your eyes at the thought of a particular ex. “I’m just like, picky, I guess.” your giggling as hamzah somewhat laughs with you, but you watch as his facial expression starts to falter. you know something’s on his mind.

“do you want to?” is all he mutters. again, he keeps this quiet, casual tone that you rarely see with him.

“i mean, yeah, kinda. I just like, don’t know where to start I guess.” you answer honestly. “feels like everyone’s way more experienced than i am anyways.” hamzah turns over to you, looking in the eye. you feel him think for a second, as if he doesn’t know whether he should let his thoughts out or not.

“well, I don’t really have experience either.” he mutters back, scoping for a negative reaction from you. your eyes widen a bit, and he doesn’t know if he should take your body language negatively or positively.

“you’re a virgin too?” you ask, a more shy tone than usual.

“..yeah. well I’ve done like- stuff. just like, never had sex. never had my penis like, in there, y’know-“

“you don’t need to go into detail.” is all you have to say, talking over him.

“-but i would go all the way with you.”

that’s all you remember from that night before blacking out, yet somehow the short memory haunts your mind. it’s eating you up inside, the thought of losing your virginity after so long to him.

you’ve seen all the edits and thirst traps of him online and can admit that they’ve made you feel some type of way about him - hell, you’ve touched yourself to the idea of your boyfriend too. yet for some reason, the thought of actually having sex with him was never really a priority to you. it’s not until now you’ve understood people’s cravings for sex, but god can you feel it now.

you’re making breakfast the next morning while his hands are around your waist and all you can think of is that conversation. when you help him with editing throughout the day, leaning over his shoulder, all you can think about is him having you bent over like that in a different context. you feel like you’re in a haze almost, clouded by the thought of hamzah.

“baby?” hamzah asks, waving a hand in front of your face in an attempt to get your attention. you perk up and face him, slightly embarrassed for spacing out.

“i was just gonna ask if you wanted me to order something for lunch.” he says casually, but his face begins to fade into an expression between concerned and confused. “you okay?”

“what?!” you reply, scrambling at bit as you didn’t think he would pick up on your behavior. “im fine. what do you mean??” you question; rapidly.

“you’ve just been like, really spaced out today. i get like that, where i like dissociate sometimes when something reallyyy bad happens. so i just wanted to make sure.” he rambles a bit, genuine concern in your eyes. despite the horniness driving your body right now, you do feel a bit warmed by the way he cares for you.

“you can always talk to me if something’s up, y’know-“

“did you mean it?” you ask, staring at him blankly.

“mean… what?” he stares back at you, looking at you like you just killed a man in front of him.

“what you said last night. that you’d like- y’know..” you look down shyly, hiding in your hair as a warm blush creeps onto your face.

“that I would..?” hamzah looks at you, genuinely clueless.

“lose it to me hamzah. have sex with me. loose your virginity.” you look up at him, speaking sternly. you’re a little too pent up to take his stupidity today.

you watch as his expression changes, going from confused to something you can’t even put a name on. a mix of shocked, embarrassed, amused - but most prominently, you watch that urge crawl up into his body. you can tell in his eyes that he wants you in the same way you crave him.

“yeah.” he says, breathy. “i want that. like, now though? or like later, what are we doing-“

his words are cut off as your lips land on his. he gasps into the kiss, caught by surprise. you try and swipe your tongue against his slightly parted lips, but he pulls away before you can get it anywhere significant.

you look at him concerned after he pulls away, taking a second to breathe.

“have you like- kissed anyone before?” he asks, and you can tell he’s serious. you giggle a little.

“yes, ive kissed before.” you say, a little smile still formed on your face. “buuut..” you drag on your words to edge him on a bit.

“ive only made out with someone once, and i can already tell you’re the better kisser.” you say, slyly. he likes it when you boost his ego like this - he’s already proud of himself for pulling you, so you make him feel like some sort of greek god.

he smirks before he pulls you into another kiss, this time pressing his lips to yours a lot firmer. it’s more intense this time around, a hand cupping the side of your face, holding you in place for him as his tongue glides inside your mouth.

you kiss until you physically can’t anymore, pulling back when you need a break for air. there’s an awkward silence before he kisses you again, putting his hands on your waist sometimes. you’re taken aback a bit as he lifts you in the air.

your immediate reaction is to hook your legs onto something, hamzah just being the nearest option, of course. your legs wrap around him, straddling his hips. you arms are grabbing onto his shoulders gently. he’s strong enough to hold you without support, but you like the physical aspect of clinging onto him like a koala.

he reaches the room, fumbling with the doorknob as he struggles to lift you at the same time. he kicks the door closed softly behind him when he eventually gets in there. he drops you in the middle of the bed, body landing gracefully.

you sit yourself up into a more comfortable position, and hamzah sits himself right next to you. it’s here when you realize how comfortable you are around him, even if you’re about to reach a life milestone you can never take back with him.

but fuck, you’re never gonna be able to take this back. the anxiety crawls back up into your brain for a second, but the feeling of hamzah’s hand on your thigh relaxes you. a single look into his eyes and you’re already reassuring yourself again. you’re not gonna want to take this back, because god, you love this boy.

“have you ever-“ hamzah pauses mid sentence, stuttering. he does this when he doesn’t know what words to use; it’s one of his mannerisms that you’ve picked up a little yourself over time. “like, felt anyone up? or like- dry hump them, I guess.” he says. you feel him cringe a bit at his own words - he gets embarrassed easily.

“not really,” you say. a smirk creeps onto your face as you have an idea. “but you could show me how.”

hamzah’s eyes widen a bit as his hand moves from your thigh to your waist. he picks you up again like it’s nothing, sitting you down on his lap. his hands massage your waist, moving up briefly past your chest. he runs at your collarbone for a minute, staring at your clothed breasts.

“can i take this off?” he asks in a low voice, toying with the fabric at your shoulders. you bite your lip as you give him a nod, and before you know it whatever garment was covering you before is gone.

“fuckkk,” is all hamzah lets out before a hand is cupping your chest, squeezing at your soft and fleshy skin. instinctively, you push your chest into his hands. you let out a soft noise as he rolls one of your nipples between his fingers.

he’s fully hard now, and you can feel it straining against you. you can tell he’s trying to keep his hips still, not wanting to get worked up too fast.

his hands leave one side of your chest as his mouth attaches to your other nipple. you can’t help but moan at the feeling of him suckling at it. he pulls of for a second, and you can feel his hands fumbling with the fabric of your bottoms for a second.

“take this off for me?” he pleads in a sweet tone, and you can tell he’s starting to get needy. you comply, of course, leaving you in just your underwear. you don’t want to be the only one undressed though, so you shimmy his pants down a bit and get his shirt off too.

you’re left in both just underwear - a weird feeling. there’s not a lot of fabric separating your crotch and hamzah’s, so when he bucks his hips up into yours it feels good. he ducks down to kiss you again, chest pressing to yours, and god, you feel like you’re in heaven. there’s heat burning through your body as your bare skin touched his.

his hands are on your hips as you grind against him, the thin material of his boxers straining against his cock. he reaches down to rub you through your underwear, eliciting a moan as you hide his head in your shoulder.

he stops your grinding for a second, a hand trailing up your thigh. he uses it to spread your legs wide, causing you to make a small noise. he pulls your panties to the side, showing off what he’s wanted all this time.

he’s already settling lower, head balance with your hips, and now you’re nervous. it’s your first time being touched like this - probably his too, and it’s scary. you close your eyes when you feel him plant a kiss on your hip, teasing you. he continues to kiss around, even guiding a hand back up to play with your chest, but it’s not enough.

“please,” you whimper, begging for more stimulation. hamzah takes it as a sign you’re ready, and before you know it, you’re squirming again.

he presses just a single finger inside you, scoping how much you’re able to take. your stomach flips as you feel him spread you open. he adds another finger once the first one is in knuckle deep, then begins to curl them inside of you. you whimper at the feeling as his fingers excel in speed, working you open.

“hamzah- fuck.” you whine, letting out an especially sharp gasp at the feeling of his fingers hitting that spot.

“yeah?” he asks, playfully, curling his fingers to hit the same spot. your pelvis thrusts up at the movement, only motivating him to go further. his hands are so fucking big and he’s so strong when he thrusts his fingers up into you. it burns in the best way possible.

“ah- hamzah!” you squeal, squirming around. you whine when you feel him pull away from him; you were so, so close to finishing. you look up at him and whimper, a sad expression plastered across your face.

“didn’t want you to cum yet,” hamzah mutters under his breath. “not done with you.”

you flush red, his words washing over your body in a hot wave. suddenly hamzah is moving, pulling down his boxers, and god his dick is big. you can’t help but whine at how badly you want it inside you.

“so noisy.” he mumbles, lining his cock up with your folds and sliding the tip between them. you only whine more at his teasing.

“hamzahh,” you complain, eager for him to stop teasing you and just put it in.

“mhm?” he replies, edging you on. he strokes himself a bit, acts as if he’s going to put it in, but then doesn’t. he knows what he’s doing and you hate it. “need something, baby?”

he’s so mean, making you beg.

“I need it so bad, hamzah, pleeasee-“ you beg, desperate. you don’t care how humiliating it is now, you need him.

“need what, baby?” he asks, obviously only to get a reaction out of you. you sigh, but you know what you need to do.

“fuck me, hamzah. i need you - your cock.” you beg, no - demand, firmly.

hamzah doesn’t stall once he’s gotten what he wants. he’s done with the teasing, pressing his tip into you. you let out a shaky moan - it hurts a little when he slides in, like ripping off a bandaid.

“hamzah- hurts.” is all the words you can get out. his hips still inside of you, waiting for you to take a breath before he continues.

“it’s okay baby. gonna feel better once I’m all the way in.” he mutters, caressing your cheek with the hand that isn’t holding him up. he wasn’t lying - it’s painful as he slides himself into you, stretching you out, but once your hip-to-hip with him there’s a comfortable peace to the feeling.

you two lay in that position for a minute, feeling the warmth of connection between your bodies. it’s a soft, loving touch - you feel safe in his arms.

“s’okay if i move now?” he whispers to you, keeping a gentle tone. at the end of the day, he’s here to take care of you.

“yeah. thank you.” you say, genuinely grateful for his patience. you remind yourself that it’s his first time doing this too; you’re not alone in your anxiety.

you clutch onto his shoulders as he nearly pulls out, cock sliding out of you to the tip, then slams back into you.

“h-hamzah!” you whimper, clawing your nails at his back. he keeps a similar pace, thrusting into you deep. even hamzah makes a small noise at the feeling of being inside you, hips stuttering against yours. the sound of skin slapping together and breathy moans fills the room.

you wrap your arms and legs around hamzah as he continues to thrust into you, clinging to him.

“so pretty.” he says, looking down at you. “there’s a reason- fuck- i wanted to fuck you in missionary. pretty face.” he stutters, moving a hand to caress your face. you can’t say anything else but whimper at him, overstimulated from a combination of his thrusts and his words.

you feel a tight feeling build in your stomach, almost like a coil nearing its breaking point. you clench around him, legs beginning to shake.

“aah- hamzah! fuck-“ you practically scream, rolling your hips up into his one last time before you orgasm. he just stares at you, slowing the roll of his own hips, in awe.

you notice as his pace slows after you catch your breath, looking up at him almost disappointed.

“what’re you doing?” you mumble, voice worn out.

“you finished, i don’t wanna-“ he begins to ramble, but you cut him off.

“keep going.” you say firmly.

“huh?”

“want you to cum too.” you say, voice still soft and tired. you roll your hips up into him, still sensitive. he nods, pushing back into you.

he continues to thrust into you rougher and rougher until his hips are slapping against yours with every thrust. every little noise you make turns him on more, until finally, he forces himself to pull out of you.

he strokes himself on top of you, a string of cum landing on your stomach. he’s panting as he finishes all over you, painting your stomach white. you smile at the scene, enjoying the was he’s made you his little art piece.

he collapses next to you, laying on his back, catching his breath.

“glad i waited.” you mumble. he turns over to you, looking into your eyes.

“waited for what?” he asks, tiredly tilting his head.

“like, to have sex. m’glad I waited until you.” you mumble, tiredness apparent in your voice. hamzah thinks his heart melts a little at your words.

he grabs a tissue off of his bedside table and wipes the cum off of you so that he can pull you into his arms, dragging the covers over your body.

“i’m glad i waited for you too.”

[sergeantbarnessdoll]

Protected » Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier

Pairings: Thunderbolts!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky is always quick to protect you.

Warnings: Fluff, language, Protective!Bucky, brief mention of blood, guns, kissing, pet names

Written on my phone. My apologies for any mistakes.

Header made by @buckys-wintersoldier

GIF MADE BY ME! I know it’s not perfect, but I tried

Everything around you was chaotic. Bullets and debris were flying. The sounds of guns being fired. You lost track of how many times you’ve come close almost being shot. Luckily for you, you have fast reflexes and was able to move away before the bullets hit you. Bucky was watching you from a distance. He swore he aged 10 years every time he saw a bullet come close to you before you dodged it. He’s very protective of you and doesn’t like it when you’re hurt.

“Doll, please be careful.” Bucky says to you in his earpiece.

“I am being careful, Sarge.” You say, giving him a thumbs up.

He watched you dodge another bullet shortly after saying that. Bucky took a deep breath before going back to focusing on the mission. You aimed your gun at your target and shot at him, taking him down with ease. You continued to take people down with ease till someone tackled you from behind. You yelped when you hit the concrete, knocking your gun out of your hand. Bucky heard the sound of your yelp and looked over at you.

You grunted, trying to get the guy off of you. You looked in front of you, seeing that your gun was too far out of reach for you to grab and shoot the guy. You groaned loudly. That’s when you realized you have a knife in your thigh holster. You grabbed it and reached behind you, blindly trying to stab the guy, which you did on the first try, stabbing him in the side. The guy cried out in pain and got off of you, holding his now bloody side. You rolled over onto your back, trying to regroup yourself. You were about to stand up when you heard Yelena’s voice.

“Y/N, stay down!” Yelena shouts.

You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion and looked in front of you, seeing a truck flying towards you. Your eyes went wide and your body froze. Your mind was telling you to get up and run, but your body wasn’t reacting. All you could do was cover your head and hope the truck didn’t squash you. That’s when you heard the sound of vibranium colliding with metal. You uncovered your head and looked up to see Bucky standing in front of you and the truck landing behind you. It didn’t take you long to realize that Bucky stopped the truck front hitting you with his vibranium arm. Bucky turned around and looked down at you. He crouched down in front of you and gave you a hug.

“Are you ok?” Bucky asks softly.

You were too in shock to answer him. Bucky unwrapped his arms from your body and checked you out for any injuries. You were fine, besides the cut you have on your forehead and the scrape you have on your knee.

“Why do you have that look on your face?” You asked him when you watched his facial expression change from a softened look to a worried look.

“You have a cut on your forehead and a scraped knee.” Bucky tells you.

You looked down at your knee, noticing a little bit of blood and your tactical pants ripped due to you scraping your knee. You assumed that was from when you got tackled to the ground not too long ago. You put a hand on your forehead, feeling some blood when you touched the cut. You took your hand away from your forehead and looked at your hand. Your eyes went wide when you seen the blood.

“I’m bleeding.” You say, beginning to panic.

“Hey, focus on me.” Bucky cupped your cheeks to get you to look at him. “You’re going to be fine, doll. I’m going to patch you up and you’ll be good as new.” He promises.

You stared in his blue eyes and nodded your head. Bucky picked you up bridal style and took you inside of a building to get you patched up. He sat you down on a chair and went to find a first aid kit, which he found with ease. When he came back, he pulled up a chair and sat down in front of you. He started with the scrape on your knee and put your leg across his lap.

“That’s going to sting.” You whimpered softly, watching him put some alcohol on a cotton ball.

“You can hold onto me if you want.” Bucky says.

You put one of your hands on his vibranium shoulder, preparing yourself for the stinging you’re about to feel on your knee. You hissed and winced when you felt the alcohol in the scrape, your nails digging in his black t-shirt. As Bucky was patching you up, realization hit you and your eyes went wide.

“What’s wrong, doll?” Bucky asks softly with concern in his voice.

“That truck could’ve crushed me.” You say, still in shock.

“But it didn’t.” He says.

“What if it did?” You asked, thinking the worst.

Your mind was making you think the worst. Bucky stopped patching you up momentarily to gently cup your cheeks, getting you to look in his blue eyes.

“Hey, no. Don’t go there.” Bucky coos softly. “I stopped the truck from hitting you. I kept you safe.” He says.

Bucky kissed your forehead softly before going back to patching you up. You couldn’t help but watch him.

“Something on your pretty little mind, doll?” Bucky asks, not looking up from your scraped knee.

You didn’t say anything. Bucky stopped what he was doing when you gently caressed his bearded cheek and looked up at you. Before either of you knew it, your lips were on his. He was caught by surprise, but kissed you back. It took you a few seconds to realize what you were doing and pulled your lips away from his.

“Oh my god! I’m so sorry!” You quickly apologized. “I didn’t mean to do that.” You say, feeling your cheeks heat up in embarrassment.

“Why are you apologizing?” Bucky asks.

“Cause I kissed you.” You say.

You were caught by surprise when Bucky kissed you softly. You two were so into the kiss that you guys didn’t hear Yelena walk in the room.

“Are you- oh, sorry.” Yelena apologizes, accidentally walking in on you and Bucky kissing.

You and Bucky quickly pulled away from each other and looked at Yelena with the look of embarrassment on your faces.

“I was gonna ask if Y/N is ok, but you two are clearly busy. I’ll come back later.” She says before walking out of the room.

You and Bucky bursted out laughing. You leaned your forehead against his shoulder.

“That wasn’t our finest moment.” Bucky says.

“Agreed.” You say, leaning your forehead against his shoulder.

After the little awkward moment, Bucky went back to patching you up, which didn’t take too long.

“There you go.” Bucky smiles. “See, I told you’d be good as new after you’re patched up.” He says, lighting up the mood.

“Thank you, Bucky.” You smiled up at him.

“You’re welcome, doll.” He says.

“Also, thank you for saving me from that truck almost hitting me.” You say.

“You don’t have to thank me, babydoll. I just want you to be protected.” He says softly, kissing your forehead, making you smile.

“If that person protecting me is you, I’ll be so protected.” You say, smiling up at him.

“I feel honored to be that person.” Bucky says, smiling back.

🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵

-Bucky’s Doll

[deartrent]

mum's emotions — taa

summary: pent-up emotions and frustrations as a first-time mom finally surface when you find yourself in the familiar arms of trent

pairing: trent alexander-arnold x fem!reader

notes: my first ever post on here. didn't really come out the way i intended, idrk if i like it, but let me know what you guys think!!

what you felt was wrong. you knew it was wrong on so many levels. you couldn't help but feel the way you did though. seeing trent take care of your baby so naturally, as if he'd experienced being a father before, sparked something inside of you that you didn't know you were capable of feeling. you couldn't tell if it was anger, disappointment or jealousy. all you could think of was how come i carried that baby for 9 months, just to be the worst mother of all time?

trent noticed your frustrations. he could tell when he'd come home from training and you'd greet him coldly or shoot daggers when he'd steal the baby from you, the cries stopping as soon as he held her in his arms, so gently. you were never the type to verbalise your feelings and trent knew not to push you to that point either, but he also knew you were slowly reaching your limit. he wished he could stay home more often to help you out, to take some of the workload off of you, but his schedule didn't allow him to.

"look she smiled," trent turned your daughter to face you, unaware that you had been observing them for the past two minutes. their smiles resembled so much, something you had prayed for way before getting pregnant.

it took everything in you to fake a smile, masking the emptiness you felt inside. trent could sense your mind was racing, your silence speaking louder than words. his heart ached seeing you in this state, reminiscing on the bubbly version of you prior to giving birth.

"she can sense your emotions you know," trent spoke after getting no reaction from you, walking over to where you stood, with your daughter against his chest, "when mum's stressed, she will be too, i read it somewhere." you felt vulnerable as trent towered over you, trying his best to read your facial expressions. you hadn't been too verbal lately, with trent having to rely on body language. he had no clue the reason you hadn't been verbal was the inability to hold in tears whenever trent would try and have a conversation about anything baby related. instead of confiding in him, you chose to distance yourself.

you didn't know how much longer you could hold everything in though, and without a single warning, you felt your eyes well up, a burning sensation confirming that your tear-filled eyes had turned bloodshot red by now. trent was caught off guard, not knowing what to do next. this was the first time you'd shown a different emotion than anger and annoyance since the baby had arrived.

trent's first instinct was to put the baby down on the playmat, before engulfing you into an embrace you didn't realise you needed until your face sunk into trent's chest, the all too familiar scent and sense of warmth, comfort and security washing over you. you sobbed into his shirt, his large hands caressing your back as he tried soothing you.

"please talk to me babe, tell me what's on your mind," trent begged and for the first time since bringing your daughter home, you thought of trent, instead of yourself. you thought about how he must've felt, being a first time parent himself and having to deal with taking care of the baby on one hand, but on the other hand having to deal with an angry, irritated girlfriend, not knowing what exactly is going on because you simply did not communicate with him. you could only imagine how scary and lonely it must have been for him.

"i just need a break," you sobbed, barely audible but you knew if anyone would understand you, it would be trent. "i don't know what i'm doing, i don't know if i'm feeding her correctly, i don't know if i'm dressing her warm enough, all she does is cry and i have no idea what she wants. i'm just a shit mother, i wasn't made for this." you took the opportunity to dump all of your frustrations.

"stop, don't say that," trent pried you off of him to create a little distance as he held your face with both hands, wiping away your tears with his thumbs, "you're doing great, i promise. she's alive, she's healthy, that means you're doing a good job." trent tried reassuring you, your breath shaky from all the sobbing. "she's crying, because she senses your emotions," you melted into trent's hands, the eyes you were so in love with fixated on yours, making your surroundings disappear, "she just wants you to be happy, we both do." guilt was the next thing you felt.

you felt guilty because you'd left trent in the dark, taking your frustrations out on him, while all he wanted to do was help, "i'm so exhausted trent, i can't remember last time i slept a full night," you continued your rant, "i miss just cuddling with you and not be interrupted," you could see the corner of trent's lips turn upwards, igniting the same warm, fuzzy feeling you'd been feeling ever since the first day you'd met; the one thing that hadn't changed since the birth of your baby. trent placed a gentle kiss on your forehead, before placing your head on his chest once more, "you know, i have a day off tomorrow, i can ask my mum to babysit and we could just stay in bed all day," trent suggested, earning a chuckle from you.

you could feel trent's heart beat against your temple and as you further sunk into his arms, you realised just how blessed you really were. you couldn't imagine having a baby with anyone other than trent, the idea of building a family with him easing your mind. he was everything you wanted and from the moment you told him you were pregnant, you knew that you and your baby were in safe hands. and that was all that mattered.

"i would love that," you looked up, pressing your lips to his luscious ones in a kiss you didn't know you craved.

[cinnamoneve]

satoru’s favorite past time is staring at you. that means he is so very aware of everything, so he picks up on the little things you do— especially your facial expressions. he finds himself subconsciously copying your facial expressions while you tell him stories. knows you well enough to know what the slightest twitch in your right eyebrow means. fan behavior imo 🙄🙄

sweet angel girl i love this one sm i had to elaborate on it .... he's so sick in the head (i need him)....

"why are you looking at me like that?'

satoru leaned on the counter, cheek squishing as his palm supported his head up.

"i'm not looking at you in any way, really," he teased.

you pursed your lips just a bit, as you always did when satoru was being an ass. it was a little way of suppressing a smile from creeping up on you--better not let his ego get too inflated.

"hmm..."

narrowing your eyes a bit, you studied his little lopsided grin as all he could do was smile back at you.

he copied you, pursing his lips a little and sitting up straighter as he narrowed his eyes to read you better.

and he never realized he was doing it. subconsciously, something deeply comforted him about mirroring the person he loved.

you see, satoru would swear up and down that he could sculpt your sweet face from memory; the plump curve of your cheeks, the way your nose contours into the lips he's kissed a million times, and hopes he could kiss a million more.

neither of you realized that you'd become reflections of the other. to be loved is to be changed, as they say; even in the most minuscule ways. maybe it's the purse of your lips, how you instinctively lean in the same way satoru does when he's trying to hear better, or perhaps it's even simpler than that.

maybe other little habits have taken home in your routine that you'd never care to admit, or even notice.

but as you look at the white haired boy in front of you, his eyes still sleepy and body still heavy, you figured it probably wouldn't be a big deal if you two were more similar than you thought.

"you're looking at me like you want something," you lean in more to him, keeping your eyes narrowed in on him.

"oh am i?" he laughs, "maybe there is something small,"

you already knew where this was going.

you mirrored his body language, leaning on the counter to face him with your chin on your palm. you tried not to smile, but rolled your eyes instead.

"and what would that be, baby,"

satoru pushed his lips inward, keeping eye contact.

"just one kiss, please," he asked softly.

you pushed your lips inwards, not even knowing you were copying him.

you finally let the smile take over your oh-so-stoic expression, impossible to hide anything from him.

it was no surprise as you leaned into him to fulfill his sole wish. one more kiss in the bank for satoru.

all content © cinnamoneve 2024. do not repost, modify, steal, or copy without permission.

[sturnsbaby]

CODE WORD ...CHRIS STURNIOLO

Summary: You were stressed out while out in public, and you and chris have a code word that you both use whenever you need each other.

Trigger warnings: Describing a anxiety attack, crying, cussing,

use of y/n, she/her pronouns

very sweet chris, angst, fluff

"baby?" you hear chris say, quietly, as your first wake up, as well as feeling him slightly shake you.

"hmm?" you mumble, slightly awake.

"wake up mama, it's 10:56" he whisperes in your ear before giving you a kiss on the cheek.

"my stomach hurts" you whine and sit up, usually, when your stomach hurts it's because your stressed, and chris knew this.

"what's wrong ma?" he says and sits infront of you.

"i don't know.. i just- i feel off today." you shrug and rub your eyes as you finally fully wake up.

"are you sure you want to go anywhere? we can stay home and go another day." he says and holds your hand.

"no- no it's fine." you reassure him with a slight smile.

"are you sure ma?" he says, not convinced that it's fine.

"mhm" you say and stand up.

"okay, remember our word?" he says and also gets up.

you nod in response and go to your dresser to pick out a outfit. To be simple, your wearing ripped jeans and a normal crop top.

time skip

The mall was already a scary place for you, you hated the crowd of people, the loud noises, basically everything just stressed you out in there, and now that chris was gone to use the bathroom, you were even more anxious about the situation. you were with nick and matt, but you needed chris to stay calm, he knew how to help you more then anyone, he could read your body language better then anyone else can.

Eventually, Matt had informed you that chris went to go get some food from somewhere in the mall, which to you, ment he was going to be gone longer. Which was your breaking point.

Your eyes water and your breathing becomes quicker as you look around at your surroundings, not sure of what to do right now in the situation you are in. A wave of dizziness went through your body as your head was starting to hurt and a annoying high pitched ringing in your ears started to form.

The only thing you could do right now is say the word you and chris have and hope that nick and matt know what it means, "flowers" you stutter and nick and matt look at you with slight worry and a confused facial expression.

"what? are you okay?" matt asks you and you shake your head and tears roll down your face and nick pulls out his phone and texts chris.

nick: can you help? what does flowers mean??

chris: wdym?

nick: y/n is crying and she hasn't said anything besides flowers ...

chris: where are you guys??

nick: the same place but what's going on is she okay

chris: it's a code word, anyways, can u please talk to her and tell her everything's okay? i'm on my way now, we can get food later.

nick: WHAT THE FUCK IS HAPPENIG???

chris: fuck nick she's having a anxiety attack. read at 4:56 pm

"its okay, breathe." nick says as he puts his phone away, matt looks back at nick, completely confused of what's going on.

nick goes up to you and looks you in the eyes, "chris is coming, okay? Your okay, breathe in and out."

And a couple minutes later, chris is by your side and comforting you, "your okay my pretty girl. I'm here." he whispers to you as he wraps his arms around you and kisses you on the forehead.

sick! 2 fics in one day :)

[sxfterhearts]

can I request a cute date with intak that takes place in the rain but doesn't stop them from enjoying their time together?

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ sweet bf!intak x reader ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

♡ genre/warnings: fluff!!! y/n is having a bad day but a cute rainy date with intak makes everything better <3

♡ word count: 1,216 words

♡ author's note: ahh thank you so much for requesting anon!! this is the first time i've written in over a month omg i hope you enjoy reading this as much as i enjoyed writing it :")

//

damn it. 

you were late. by 10 minutes, to be exact.

on any other day, you were punctual. but today, of all days, things just didn’t seem to be going your way.

your pre-exam tradition – two half-boiled eggs for breakfast, turned out to be very hard-boiled this morning. you rushed out of the door to catch the bus with a lingering dryness in your mouth (from the yolks, no doubt), only to realise when you were approaching the bus stop that you forgot your umbrella and there was no time to turn back. there were no free seats on the bus so you had to stand by the back door, shuffling awkwardly every time the bus made a stop. your regular seat by the window overlooking the school field was taken by some lanky, blonde boy. and to top it all off, you overheard your classmates claiming they wrote down completely different answers to yours as you dashed out of the exam hall to catch the first bus out of there.

the moment you stepped out of the bus, you felt it. 

a drop. and then another. and then one more. 

you sighed. today, of all days, why did everything have to be so difficult?

you took cover under the bus stop as rain began to fall all around you. your lips worked itself into a permanent pout as you pulled out your phone, fingers flying across the screen as you sent a quick text to update intak that you arrived at your meeting spot, and to apologise for being late.

you were meant to go on a date – the first in two weeks. a date to unwind after the exam you’ve been studying and preparing and dreading all week. a date to walk around seoul forest and be one with nature and take in the greenery, the ponds and the birds chirping. a date to spend time and be with your boyfriend, intak.

who, speaking of, was calling your name from across the street. 

“y/n!!”

you looked up, and felt your tense shoulders and furrowed eyebrows relax itself upon meeting his eyes. the weight you carried around all day gradually lightened. there he was, your boyfriend, hwang intak – happiness personified, million-watt lopsided smile, umbrella in hand. if he had a tail, you were absolutely sure it’d be wagging excitedly by now.

“hold on!” he shouted before looking both ways and sprinting towards you.

you watched, transfixed, as your happiness spread and unfolded before your very eyes. you couldn’t help but to feel your heart tug and pull you towards him.

“hey,” intak saw you and his excited smile shifted into one of understanding and empathy. he could tell, by your body language and facial expression, that today hadn’t been the best for you.

instead of exchanging greetings, you just hugged him. you wanted to; no, needed to recharge your batteries by being close to him.

intak just smiled quietly while hugging you back. as your boyfriend, he knew that you needed time to soak in the present moment and enjoy being in his embrace. he realised, as you snuggled closer, that he liked the thought of being needed like this.

after a few silent moments, you peeled away and looked up at him.

he looked back expectantly. “better?”

“so much better. i’m all recharged.” you placed a sweet kiss on his cheek and he replied by pressing his soft lips on your forehead. “but the date is ruined.”

“what do you mean?” he followed your line of sight, which was shooting daggers at the grey skies above. “we have an umbrella, y/n.” he chuckled.

“but…”

“c’mon, it’ll be a little uncomfortable, but we’ll have so much fun. trust me! here.” like magic, intak conjured up two cans from his pocket. a hot latte for you, and a can of soymilk for himself. “have this, it’ll warm you up.”

the two of you linked arms and walked around the park. while savouring your warm drinks, you pointed things out to each other. the little things, like how the water droplets gathered on a single petal or leaf, or the buds that were ready and eager to bloom into flowers, or the funny shapes of the puddles, and jumping over said puddles. you both huddled close as a chilly wind blew over you, coaxing the trees into a flamboyant dance and the leaves to rustle in a calming song, accompanied by the gentle pitter-patter of rain on your shared umbrella. you closed your eyes and took a deep breath, letting nature wash away the remnants of your tiring day. 

intak couldn’t resist the urge to take photos of you – you standing in the rain, you crouching down to admire the flowerbeds, you chasing the ducks around the pond. inevitably, he got himself wet in the process.

“it’s just a bit of rain.” intak shrugged and shot you his signature smile. he shook the droplets off his hair and sprinkled you with raindrops in the process. 

and you know what? he was right. before you met him, you used to be really set in your ways. you were not particularly spontaneous, and would feel uncomfortable if things didn’t go to plan, or worse, if there wasn’t a plan. but since meeting intak, who had a completely different outlook on life, you’ve been exposed to a new perspective. you learned to go with the flow – to let things go, to focus less on the outcome and to just have fun in the process. it was like something inside you shifted.

you found a dry patch under a big tree. using a stick, you began to draw shapes in the dirt. intak quickly caught on, and tried to add his own drawings to yours. the two of you tag teamed, taking turns drawing each stroke of an animal that the other had to guess. you failed miserably, given your lack of artistic skills. the game concluded when intak drew a heart with your names in the centre. it was so cheesy, and it made you feel like the main character’s love interest in a high school romcom, but you loved it. 

intak didn’t mind being a huge cheeseball, as long as it meant he got to see that pretty smile of yours. yes, definitely worth it, he decided as you leaned in for a kiss that tasted like a mix of coffee and soymilk– a perfect combination, he thought. after all, the boy is in love with you.

“shall we get lunch?” he asked.

“yes, but i’m craving pancakes. kimchi pancakes, vegetable pancakes… and makgeolli.”

intak shot you a knowing smile. the initial plan was to try this new viral pasta restaurant close by. that was the reason why you met near seoul forest in the first place.

but it just wasn’t the right weather for pasta – it was raining, and the only correct answer for what to eat on a rainy day in korea is pancakes and makgeolli. the sound of oil splashing and splattering when frying the pancakes, or jeon, resembled the sound of raindrops. 

intak was happy because he knew you were becoming more open to trying things, and learning to adapt. he felt his chest blossom with pride.

“i know just the right place.”

[hotchscoffeecup]

how do we carry on?

pairing: hotch x bau!reader

rating: m

word count: 4.8k

genre: angst, hurt no comfort

summary: emily was your confidant, your best friend. when she dies at the hands of ian doyle, you find comfort in your boyfriend, aaron. when you find out that she’s alive and that hotch had known all along, your world falls out from under you. can you and hotch come back from the decision he made for the good of the team?

*if this gains enough traction i might follow up with a pt.2 to give it a happy ending*

The criss-crossed lines of the tile floor blur together as you stare blankly between your feet. The tops of your thighs have gone numb from digging your elbows into them, using your cradled hands as a pillow for your forehead. You couldn’t go home, not until you knew.

Rossi had offered to go on a walk and get a coffee, but shitty lukewarm hospital coffee was the last thing you needed. You hadn’t meant to write him off, you just couldn’t justify doing anything to distract from the fact that she was on that operating table, that Emily’s life was literally hanging in the balance.

The rest of the team was no better off than you are right now. Penelope’s knitting needles clack relentlessly, the scarf inside of her purse growing as her hands keep busy so her mind doesn’t focus on how hard she’s trying not to cry. The last time you’d poked your head up, Derek hadn’t moved from the waiting room windowsill where he’d been standing still as a statue staring out at the cityscape. If Spencer didn’t stop shaking his leg, you feared he would wear a hole straight through the tile. JJ exits the waiting room as often as she returns, her liaising days quickly coming back, making her their only link to the operating room. Hotch’s behavior is no different. His cell rings every ten to fifteen minutes, no doubt the Bureau wanting to know how the hell this could happen. It’s the only sign that time is actually passing and you’re forced to accept that you’re not stuck in some fucked up purgatory-esque hellscape where time stands still, torturing you as your dear friend’s life teeters between worlds.

What you wanted, what you needed was for him to hold you; to place a kiss against your temple and tell you that everything would be alright. It had to be alright.

He couldn’t show favor to you though, not now. The team didn’t know about your relationship with him, though you believe a few have their suspicions. You’re all too observant for your own good. Not much goes unnoticed by anyone. So when JJ walks back into the waiting room, everyone shifts toward her to try and get a glimpse into her facial expression and body language for any sign of an update regarding Emily’s condition.

Instantly, you know something is wrong. JJ’s eyes flit from one person to the next, not lingering very long on anyone. Spencer is the first to stand and you follow suit. You close in, forming a small half circle. Behind JJ, Hotch stands in the doorway, brow straight as he folds his arms across his chest.

“JJ?” Her name is an anxious plea on Penelope’s lips.

JJ’s eyes drop to the floor as she presses her lips together. She takes a deep breath and lifts her eyes, yours the ones they land on as she speaks. “She never made it off the table.”

A choked sob echoes from Garcia as she falls into Derek’s arms, his features fixed as he stares ahead though his knuckles flush white as he holds tightly onto Penelope. Rossi pinches the bridge of his nose, eyes closed as he mutters something to himself; a prayer, maybe. Spencer envelopes JJ in a desperate embrace, as if clinging to her will somehow make her words any less true. Afterall, how can they be? Emily can’t go down, not like this; not after all she’s survived.

Someone says your name. Your brow dips, but you don’t respond. You need to see Emily. Your feet move of their own accord, guiding you through the waiting room. Someone grabs your arm and you tug away from their grasp, set on pushing onward and finding the OR.

Someone repeats your name, and you can’t help but latch on to the deep tenor that belongs to Hotch. You halt in your tracks and close your eyes, tears leaking over your eyelids and down your cheeks.

“I need to talk to Emily,” you say, your voice small.

The way Hotch says your name is laced with pity and you hate the way it sounds on his tongue. He pulls gently on your arm in an attempt to reel you into him, but you resist. You bite your lip to still its trembling. Yanking your arm free, you press on into the hallway and stumble toward the double doors that read in bold letters: Authorized Personnel Only. Fuck that. You’ve got a badge, that’s authority enough. Before you can push through, firm hands twist around your arms.

You push back, but their grip tightens. “Stop,” Hotch urges authoritatively. You turn into him and pound your fist against his chest, a sob cracking free from your mouth. “She’s not gone,” you cry. “She’s not gone. She’s not—” Your legs tremble with the wave of grief that crashes over you and you can’t hold your weight as it does so. Falling to your knees, Hotch reacts. His arms fold around your waist, catching you as you collapse into the wide plane of his chest. Your ribs ache as your lungs inflate with each rapid, sobbing breath. Your vision turns fuzzy at the edges as you try and fail to slow your breathing. It feels like you’re dying as the waves of grief assail you over and over again, battering you, body and mind, in an unrelenting tumultuous current of sorrow and pain as the wicked reality sets in. Emily is dead. You barely feel Hotch’s hand in your hair cradling you against him. As he murmurs apologies and sympathies in your ear, you don’t see the weighted look he exchanges with JJ.

•

The funeral comes and goes. The day is too beautiful for Emily not to be there to see it. You sit on the porch at Hotch’s house, breathing in and out as you watch the daffodils dance in the afternoon breeze. You smooth the fabric of your dress down over your knees, the satin wrinkled from the way you clenched it during the service.

Your phone buzzes in your purse. The number of messages and phone calls you’d ignored continues to rise, but you can’t bring yourself to express any gratitude for their condolences. You can’t bring yourself to feel anything except the crushing weight of grief.

You picture Emily sitting beside you on the wooden porch swing. Last Summer, you’d sat here with her as the team gathered for a Fourth of July Barbecue. Jack had made invitations and delivered them to the team at the office. He’d been so excited and so were you. It was around then that you and Hotch had begun to toe the line between colleagues and something more; a morning coffee dropped off at your desk here, an extra visit to his office there. You’d sat here with Emily watching as Rossi backseat barbecued Hotch on the grill. She’d caught you smiling at him alongside the fondness in your gaze. She’d clocked you from a mile away.

“Oh, you’ve got it bad.” Her laugh had tinkled from lips, ringing like a morning bell.

“What are you talking about?” you’d asked, trying and failing to school your features into a mask of indifference.

“I’ll tell ya, it’s a big swing, but if you hit it, that’s a home run for sure.”

You’d nearly choked on your lemonade, coughing and gasping; drawing the attention of the others.

“Wrong pipe!” Emily had called while pointing at you and clapping a hand against your back. “She’s good!” In a low voice she’d added, “Though I’m sure with him, it’d be just the right pipe.”

You’d elbowed her in the ribs and bust out laughing together. For the longest time after that, she’d been the only person that you’d confided in about your burgeoning feelings and relationship with Aaron. Through that, she’d quickly become your closest friend on the team.

A couple of kids shout at one another, laughing, as they ride past the house on their bicycles; shattering the memory. You dip into your purse and withdraw your phone, pressing a button and powering it down. The screen door creaks on its hinges and Hotch steps down onto the porch, the planks shifting beneath his weight. He sits beside you and offers you a mug. The scent of coffee reaches your nose and you accept it, thanking him quietly. Aaron had taken his suit jacket off and loosened his tie. He stretches an arm around your shoulder and draws closer to you. He kisses the side of your face and stares out at the yard.

“It was a beautiful service,” he offers.

“Aaron, don’t.” You close your eyes and take a breath. You hold the coffee with both hands, rubbing your thumbs up and down the warm ceramic. “Please don’t make small talk with me about this like it’s all so fucking normal.”

He sighs and apologizes. “I just wish I could make all of your hurt go away.”

A shudder runs through you and you nestle in closer to him, taking a sip of your coffee as you do so. “I don’t think it’ll ever go away.”

•

Her brown eyes stare back at you, though the photo paper could never capture the light that flared within them when she was alive. Of all the faces you could have seen up on this wall, you’d never anticipated hers being one of them.

Every day you stop by her portrait on the wall of fallen heroes. People talk about her less and less around the office. The team doesn’t stop, though your conversations are stilted and often end in awkward silences; no one really knowing how to carry on once the conversation slows to a natural end. You speak often with Spencer about the ways in which you’ve been grieving, the sleepless nights and early mornings. Derek is reserved. He’s angry above anything else. He feels betrayed by Emily and a part of you understands that. She’d not told any of you after all. You’d be remiss if you’d not also spent some of your time grieving in anger. Of all the times you’d stayed late after work, gotten together to hang out on weekends, or gone out for drinks, she had never indicated anything was wrong. You had told her everything, confided every one of your fears and hopes into her and you’d thought that the street had been going both ways. God, you’d never been so wrong.

“Conference room in fifteen,” Aaron says as he walks past you, hand grazing your back as he does so.

You smile tightly and nod, glancing once more at Emily’s photo before making your way to your desk in the bullpen, ignoring the fact hers still sits empty and unoccupied beside yours. How has it been three months already?

•

“Emily!”

Your eyes dart around the room frantically searching as your heart thunders in your ears. You feel the organ pounding against your ribcage, threatening to break free of it. It only takes a second for you to realize it had been a dream.

Aaron rolls over and sits up, threading an arm around your back and rubbing your hip with his fingers. “Another nightmare?” he asks, words tinged with sleepiness.

You nod, yawning as you rub your eyes. The dreams are further apart, but at least every other week her face haunts your subconscious. You can’t help but wonder if it’s some sort of self-punishment as life goes on and the days get easier.

In reality, you don’t know if it’s easier or if you’ve just forced yourself to become numb to it all, compartmentalizing the pain of losing your best friend because if you didn’t you don’t think you’d be able to leave the house and do what you do day after day.

“Are the appointments with the therapist helping?” he asks.

Another question you don’t know the answer to. On some level, yes. Talking to someone who knows nothing about you or her or anyone else on the team is good. You don’t have to walk on eggshells, worried you're going to dig open a wound the others are equally fighting to heal by talking about her or how much you miss her or wish she was here. On another level, you don’t open up fully to the doctor. There are some layers of this injury you don’t want to see heal and scar over. If you do that, it’s like you’re telling Emily that you’re over her death, as if it’s something as easy as that, something you just get over. No, some things need to stay fresh, to serve as a reminder that Ian Doyle is still out there. The man who took your best friend away from you and your BAU family is breathing and she’s not. You clench your fists, the sheets balling up in your hands as your resentment burns deep inside you. Yes, that’s it, the idea of him walking around thinking he’s gotten away with this is enough to stoke the flames simmering deep inside you.

You take a deep breath, mentally imagining the flames subsiding, and they do. They dial down, but they don’t disappear. You glance down at Aaron, who snores softly beside you. His fingers still curl around your hip and a faint smile graces your lips. He tries, you know he does, but this is exhausting for everyone. He bears the brunt of it at the office. He fought to be the one to meet with the team and conduct the grief interviews, not wanting a stranger to come in and sift through your friends’ and colleagues’ pain over what happened. God knows how much bureaucratic red tape he had gotten tangled in right after the fact, the higher ups demanding how such a blunder could occur right under their noses. Aaron had put out the fires though, as he always did. Reaching around his back, you withdraw his hand from your hip and tuck it by his side, not before pressing a kiss to his knuckles.

You glance at the clock before lying back down. 4:15AM blinks back at you on the digital clock face. In forty five minutes the alarm will go off and it’ll be another day at the office. Settling down into the pillows, you press your back into Aaron’s body, yours molding against the planes of his as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.

His arms slinks around your waist and pulls you in as if you can get any closer than you already are. He tucks his chin over your shoulder and his lips brush against your jawline.

“I love you,” he whispers and you relax into the safety of his embrace.

“I love you, too, Aaron.”

•

Nights are hard when Aaron is gone. Pakistan is nine hours ahead and all Hotch has to communicate with anyone is a satellite phone, the number for which you don’t have access to. Whenever Hotch calls, the caller ID flashes the word ‘Unknown’ across your screen. There have been several times you’ve missed him due to being asleep or at work. Each call missed feels like being sucker punched. Every time you talk, a part of you worries it’ll be the last time. You didn’t use to have this fear, not until Emily. Despite staring death in the face on a week by week basis, most of the time playing Russian Roulette with the Grim Reaper himself in each unsub you cross paths with, somehow you never thought he’d actually take someone you love from you; that he’d take down one of the team. You never thought there’d be a last conversation with Emily, and now she’s dead.

Dead. The word is a heavy stone, sinking from the cusps of your mind to the pit of your stomach. It sits there, a persistent ache idling deep inside of you. It never relents and it never allows you to forget.

There are nights you dream that Aaron is dead too, that somewhere far away and beyond your control, he’s dying on the ground, bleeding out, and no one knows. You don’t even know what he’s working on and he can’t say; despite your relationship there are still levels in which Hotch’s clearance supersedes your own and the need-to-know red tape keeps you out. Afraid to close your eyes and dream of his unseeing, you stare at the blades of the ceiling fan whirling lazily overhead of the bed you usually share with him.

“I miss you,” you whisper to no one; and you don’t know who you’re talking to anymore.

•

“He’s back?” your heart flutters in your chest, equal parts excited and anxious at the prospect of Aaron’s sudden return. You push off your desk and swivel in your chair to stand, rushing down the hall and leaving Reid behind as you make your way hastily to the conference room.

The door is cracked and a gleeful sound eeks past your lips as his tall frame comes into view. You slip in before anyone else arrives and throw your arms around you. Inhaling deeply, his familiar teakwood scent envelopes you just as his arms do. You move to pull away, but his arms tighten around you.

“A second more,” he whispers, and there’s an edge to his voice.

You write it off to jet lag and sink into his embrace, though you notice how slight he feels against you. Finally, you pull back and cup his face in your hands. The scruff of his beard is prickly and you laugh as you take in his rugged appearance. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you with this much facial hair.” You swipe your thumbs over the hair on his lip and he tilts his head, kissing the inside of your hand. He closes his eyes and breathes in deeply before lifting them to meet yours. It's then you realize how tired he looks. The bags under his eyes are puffy and purple, almost as if they’re bruised. His forehead is creased, brow furrowed; definitely not how you pictured him upon reuniting.

“Aaron is everything ok—”

“I need you to know I would never hurt you,” he says quickly, interrupting you.

You purse your lips, brow pinching at the sudden admission. As your lips part to speak he directs a pointed look at you, the depths of his brown eyes wavering. “I love you,” his voice cracks, “so much.” He swallows, his throat bobbing as he does so. “Please remember that.”

There’s a hollow feeling in your gut, a chasm opening wide where every anxious and painful thought that you’ve tried to keep buried since he’s been gone begins to claw their way out as a thousand different outcomes play out in front of you. “Aaron, what’s going on?”

He doesn’t answer your question as the rest of the team trickles into the room, sitting at the round table or standing as suspense fills the space. It’s tangible. Everyone’s posture is rigid and tense in anticipation of whatever it is he has to say.

“Seven months ago I made a decision that impacted everyone on this team,” he begins, eyes firm.

Spencer shifts uncomfortably beside you. Rossi leans forward, fingers steepled under his chin.

“As you all know, Emily had lost a lot of blood,” Hotch continues and your ears prick at the sound of her name. Why would he bring her up? No less, her condition the day you all lost her. You all know this.

“…the doctor’s were able to stabilize her.”

Your lips part but no sound comes out as you raise your eyes to meet his. They meet yours for the briefest of seconds before flitting on to the others.The next words to leave his mouth sound far away, interrupted by the blood now pounding in your eardrums. “She stayed there until she was well enough to travel…given identities…”

There’s a lump in your throat and you feel as though you may choke on it. Air doesn’t seem to be able to bypass it and you have to remind yourself that you can breathe even though it feels like all the oxygen has vacated your lungs.

Penelope is the first to speak. “She’s alive?”

Spencer’s brow quirks as he tries to rationalize what’s being said to him. “We buried her.”

You did. You helped carry the casket. You felt the weight of her dead body and watched it sink into the earth. If that wasn’t her, what the fuck or who the fuck did you actually put in the ground?”

“As I said I take full responsibility for this decision,” Hotch continues, eyes downcast. “If anyone has any issues they should be directed towards me.”

The blood pounding in your ears is deafening. When Hotch looks up, you search his eyes and can’t help wondering if you know him at all. All of the nights you literally made yourself sick from crying and he held your hair back as you dry heaved over the toilet and your body spasmed from the grief of losing your best friend, he’d known that she was alive. For a moment, you think you may be sick right there at the round table at the thought of it all. Derek is speaking, his voice tight with anger but you don’t hear him. Heads turn and the hairs on the back of your neck prickle as a haunting feeling creeps up the back of your spine.

Turning around in your chair, everyone else stands but not you. If you do, you know your knees will buckle and fall out from under you. Spencer and Penelope are on their feet, moving briskly to greet the ghost of Emily.

Except she’s not a ghost. Her skin is not the cold blue-gray pallor of death, but pink and bright, the blood beneath her flesh very much pumping through a heart that’s beating. Her dark brown hair is sleek and shining, her bangs grown out and styled; her part now to the right. You watch her arms fold around Spencer and the way he squeezes her in turn. Penelope follows suit, tears streaming down her cheeks as she smiles widely. Derek stares on, features fixed in a cross between anger and shock. Emily approaches him with apprehension. An apology leaves her lips as she draws him in for a hug and his arms tentatively wrap around her. When she turns to you, your muscles tense. Those deep brown irises flicker back and forth across your face, searching for a reaction. You don’t give her one. Instead, you push past her, avoiding any and all physical contact with her, and dip out of the conference room.

You hear Garcia call your name and Derek shouts about having a case. You don’t care. You bypass your desk, not even bothering to get your purse. Your keys are hanging on a carabiner on your belt loop. Ignoring the elevator, you shove your way through the entrance to the stairs and move down them so quickly you’re surprised you don’t lose your footing and tumble down them. Down and around you go, your footsteps echoing as your heart slams against your ribcage. You slap your badge against the keypad that lets you exit the building, ignoring the greeting from the security guard at the front. As you push through the front doors of the office building, you barely make it to the bushes before you fall to your knees and retch.

•

A car door slams followed by the double beep which locks them. You close your eyes and inhale deeply as you prepare to face him, hands clenching around the sweater you were packing. A tear slips free from your eye as you breathe out and look toward the ceiling, as if the answers to why all of this had to happen are written up there. This is not how your reunion is supposed to be. You’d pictured his homecoming for weeks; thought about the outfit you’d wear to dinner and the lingerie you’d bought to wear just for him when you both got home, opened a bottle of wine, and made up for all of the time lost while he was away. That is how tonight is supposed to go.

Now you’re leaving, and you don’t know if you’ll be coming back.

The lock on the front door jiggles before the gears click into place. It squeaks on its hinges as it swings open. Five beeps follow and you can picture his fingers pressing against each button on the alarm system. His keys clatter as he drops them on the table. As his footsteps edge closer to your bedroom, you count each one. The sound that usually means safety and security, now sends a shiver of anxiety throughout your body.

He appears in the doorway, eyes rife with exhaustion and the bags beneath them puffy and swollen. His cheeks are flushed and his nose is pink, as if he’d been crying. Maybe he had been, god knows you had. His eyes flit between you and the bag you’re packing. His lips part and a small sound of desperation slips past them.

“Baby, please—”

You hold up a hand, curling your fingers into a fist. Your lip curls as you speak. “Don’t,” you breathe. You swallow the lump that quickly forms in your throat as you drop your hand, zipping the bag shut.

The inner corners of his brow draw upward and you can hardly stand to look into his pleading gaze.

“You have to understand—”

“Understand, what? Aaron?” You ask sharply, struggling to hold back the thick hot tears pricking the backs of your eyes.

He places a hand on his hip, fingers tucking back the fold of his unbuttoned shirt as his thumb hooks into his belt; a gesture you’re all too familiar with as he does the same thing with all of his suits. His other hand rises to pinch the bridge of his nose. He pauses, inhaling as he tries to find the words. After a moment, he scrubs a hand over his face and turns his gaze to yours.

“I wanted to tell you so badly,” he says. When he looks at you there are tears in his eyes. “I hated myself, watching the agony this decision put you and the team through. I wanted to tell you and take away your hurt, but I couldn’t. It wouldn’t have been fair to the team. Just because you’re my girlfriend, I can’t—” He turns his hand and slams his hand against the doorframe causing you to flinch. “Dammit!”

Your voice is soft, but sure when you speak. “You can’t bend the rules.”

It’s what you’ve always worried about, both of you. You always knew the job could come first, especially with him being the Unit Chief. You always understood that that meant no preferential treatment and that is something you never would’ve asked him to do. You just never anticipated it happening like this, a complete and total life altering mind fuck.

Aaron drops his hand and it slaps against his thigh in defeat as it falls to his side. “What was I supposed to do?”

You cross your arms over your chest, fingers curling over your biceps to try and still your shaking hair. You hang your head and a curtain of hair falls across your face, “I don’t know, Aaron.”

He kicks off the doorway, moving towards you with his hands outstretched. It happens without thinking, the way you flinch away. Pain flashes in his eyes and you feel as though you’ve been punched in the stomach the way it’s suddenly hard to breathe.

His hip is close to yours, his body angled away from you. You can feel the weight of his gaze on your shoulder as he looks down. “Don’t do this,” he whispers.

Your lip quivers, chin wobbling in response to the tears you’re trying so desperately to hold back. “I have vacation I’d been saving.” You pick up your bag and throw it over your shoulder, not daring to look up at him because you know if you do you’ll shatter into a thousand shards of glass at his feet.

As you move toward the door, you pause. For a split second, you entertain the thought of dropping your bag, running across the room he’d chased you around so many times before, and throwing yourself around him. You consider all the things you want to say and scream and cry about; all of your anger, sadness, betrayal, grief, and love. You crave him so terribly in that moment because his have always been the arms you’ve run to when things become too much to bear.

Instead, your chin dips toward your shoulder as you speak, but you don’t raise your eyes to meet his. If you do, you don’t think you’ll be able to leave. “My gun and badge are in the safe.”

As you make your way down the hallway, you have to bite your knuckles to stifle a sob just as you hear one leave his lips from the bedroom.

You don’t turn back.

[brucewaynehater101]

So there's a fic that I think you will like. It's called The Definition of Valor by Nerdpoe. Really short, spoiler free summery. Instead of loosing his Spleen, Tim looses his eyes. He makes special gadgets to help him with this, such as a device in is cowl that scans the room he is in and tells him what is where via coded sounds, like say, two low A notes followed by a chirp means there is a wooden desk to the north east of him. He also makes a special computer program for his grapple so when he points it somewhere, it will adjust his aim so he never misses and always attaches to a good spot.

This fic is giving me *so many* thoughts about the potential fall out of this being found out not as soon as Tim gets back to Gothem because he never tells anyone. Specifically it's making me think about Tim who is Bruce's dad not telling Bruce because he doesn't want to worry his son. He doesn't want to worry his grandchildren/siblings either so he puts in colored contacts and wears glasses when his cowl isn't on. The glasses and an ear piece have the same tech as his cowl to tell him where everything is.

How long would it take them to find out? Tim would never tell them, so do they find out on accident because Tim forgot the contacts that are his normal eye color, or because Ras is mad at Tim and tells them what Ras did to Tim? Maybe he got to mad and while ranting at a Rouge (either Harley or Two Face would be especially funny if he's just been hanging upside down and ranting and raving fo 30 minuets already) over one of their traps, he accidentally lets slip that he's blind, or maybe he yells at Riddler, "Nygma, this isn't fair! I've been completely blind since last July and my usual tech that tells me what's around me is getting fucked by your signal jammer! So either read the riddle to me out loud or let me go!" and then later Riddler scolds one of the other Bats for letting the blind one do the visual puzzles much to their confusion.

Hi!!! I love that fic so much! Have you seen the sequel for it as well? It's short, but a great read. I would die for more of this concept.

In that fic, Bruce turns out to be a good dad. While I may hate Bruce, the way that guy handles the situation in that fic is fantastic.

However, I would like a fic where this concept gets a delayed reveal. In the AU, Tim figures out how to function without his eyes.

He engineers technology to read people's facial expression/body language to help him out. It reads words for him, etc.

I wonder what excuse he'd give for wearing the earpiece and glasses all the time. Maybe he says it's another aspect to separate Timothy Drake from Red Robin?

Just Tim gaslighting and girlbossing his way into pretending he can still see. I kind of want him to keep up the ruse for a long while.

When he does get found it, it'd be hilarious if the others forget he's blind. Tim has engineered technology to assist him, but he still can't see. So they'll try to take him to activities they did together when he could see (like star gazing) or they'll ask him what he thinks of the color of their outfit. He also ruthlessly uses his blindness as an excuse to mess with people. If Timothy Drake-Wayne is known to be blind, he'll use it to accuse Luthor of being ableist at every chance he'll get. He also bullies the shit out of governmental agents and companies that don't provide accommodations.

I'm also a fan of Riddler finding out about it, but him just changing his puzzles to be accommodating. I'm biased towards Riddler (I love him so much) so it'd be cool to see the silent show of support like that.

Another AU idea: When Tim blows up Ra's bases, the explosions cause him to become deaf or hard-of-hearing.

Dealer's choice on how much hearing he loses, but I feel like this could be great to explore deafness and misconceptions commonly held in our society.

Tim would probably already know how to sign and lip read (might even know multiple different sign languages), but he would face a few difficulties.

He chooses not to disclose his hearing loss

People often cover their mouths or face away from someone when speaking (which makes lip reading arduous)

Ableist people suck

The world is set up for hearing people, so a lot of issues stem from a lack of accommodations rather than Tim's ability to hear

Tim chose not to tell anyone about the change in hearing for a few reasons: he doesn't trust anyone (especially during his adjustment period) and he doesn't want to be underestimated (wants to prove himself in the field before they try to pull him from it).

As far as technology to help him, the comms were easier to program than other auditory inputs. Since they were designed to transmit clear voices, he merely has to train a program to automatically close caption whatever is spoken (the automatic ones used today are useful, but still make too many errors for Tim's preference. Some also only do words automatically and leave out helpful information like laughing, choking, screaming, computer dings, etc.). Each Bat member has their own designated color. For those he doesn't interact with often, it says their name before every time they speak up.

Tim incorporates the visual overlay into his goggles and glasses. He can read what people contribute to the conversation based on that. It also leaves his hands free so he doesn't need to look down. His wrist computer stores records of what has been said so Tim can go back over it if he misses it. He also has the ability to change where the words appear on his field of vision.

I also hc Alfred is the first to notice that Tim is staring intently at his lips when he talks and has difficulties with the conversation when Alfred changes the way he pronounces words or isn't facing Tim (this is before Tim's tech gets perfected). From then on, Alfred makes a point of facing Tim whenever the teen is in the room. They both don't talk about it until the rest of the family finds out (however long that takes).

Feel free to add more to either AU!

[georgiapeach30513]

Your Mark On Me, Part 13

Summary: Steve softens and submits

Pairings: Steve Rogers X Reader

Rating: explicit

Warnings:  explicit language, explicit sexual content, bit of a chase kink, teasing, unprotected sex, PIV sex, creampie, bathtime fun, D/s dynamics, breeding kink, bit of voyeurism, mean!Steve, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 5.9K

Previous

Series Masterlist

*dividers created by @firefly-graphics

*edit by @nixakimbo

You give a final smile to Bucky and Shy, and hug to your former guard. Making sure to kneel down to rub on Shy’s belly, leaning to give the bump a kiss, “You take care of your mama, little Ember. I can’t wait to hold you. Thank you for a lovely day,” you stand back up, giving Shy another hug. “Your home is lovely.”

And with that Steve nods a head to both Bucky and Shy, leading you out to the car where he opens the door up for you. He can be sweet when he wants to. When he isn’t so brooding and all business. Trying to be create a persona that is quite different to the man you were starting to learn. Days like this made you realize that there is a lot more to Steve than meets the eye. He could be soft. Just with the right people.

You suppose that is probably the safest thing to do, be cautious. For him. You just loved people, and wanted them to know. Everyone needed words of confirmation from time to time. “She looks adorable pregnant.”

“So will you,” he answers, giving you a soft smile. He could be a bit confusing with his personality. Today you are getting the sweet Steve. It had to have been seeing Bucky again. Bucky leaving Steve’s business for good seems to have affected him. He realizes how things have shifted.

“Are you sad?” He keeps his eyes on the road, and his Adam’s apple bobs while he searches for the right words.

“That you have an IUD? Of course. But I’ll let you decide when I get to fill you full of me,” you roll your eyes as your hand naturally falls into his. He is so silly. Always going back to that, and not at all what you are thinking about.

”I meant about Bucky choosing Shy over…the business,” you hesitate to say over Steve. he didn’t necessarily choose Shy over him. But in a way he did. Bucky found something more important to him than what he had been doing for years. More important than being in the business with his best friend. The business risk didn’t outweigh his love for his fiance and future family.

Steve goes silent. His sharp eyes look out in front of the car, but never respond. It hurts him too much to think that Bucky would never be a part of this world for him. “I mean, having a child is a huge responsibility. It seems like Shy makes enough money to keep them afloat. And he seems to really be right at home with her. And their kitty. We should probably get a pet. I bet it was nice for her to have a pet when Bucky was out at odd hours of the night. Especially when he was with me. Heaven knows that man has seen so much of my body, and just what you do to me. Do you think she was ever jealous of that? Have you met Shy before today? Wait, no you said that was your first time meeting her. Bucky must really love her to want to protect her from your life.”

”Dovey,” his thumb draws shapes on your hand, and you turn to look at him. He is haunted about something. About his thoughts that never left him. There is no telling the things that he has seen in this life. “Baby, you need to breathe.”

“Where are you taking me?” This isn’t the way home. “Are we going out?” he shakes his head no, and you look at him with a pout. The facial expression does get a huff of a laugh. “Steve!”

“Does this road not look familiar?” No. It didn’t. But clearly it is supposed to. You sigh, waiting on him to hopefully answer. Your body leans more into him. Letting his warmth encapsulate your nerves. Trying to think of when you had been here, and then there is something that looks familiar.

“But…where is everything else?” It is the playground. Before there were swings, slides, monkey bars, but now the only thing left standing is the bars that Steve had set you on. “Steve?”

“I held onto this place for a long time,” he places the car into park, and while you give him your full attention, he just gazes out at the almost empty park. “I met her here for the first time,” he is taking way too long to tell a story, but for the sake of him not getting pissy at you, you wait on him. Even if you feel a pang of jealousy with the simple word of her.

“She was beautiful. I hadn’t fully grown into my body yet, but she still saw me. I told you I was bullied here, but I was slowly turning it into a drop off. It was overgrown, and kids didn’t come here anymore. But Peggy did. She stayed a bit too far away. Watching. Always watching me. I got a bit cocky, and came by more often. Bought the land, so it was my private property. Employed Bucky and Sam. And I kept getting bigger, and finally she came and talked to me.”

You don’t even know Peggy, but you hate her. It isn’t even jealousy, okay maybe a little bit. But it is mostly due to the fact there’s something so off in her behavior. She just watched him for months?

“She was a simple girl, just wanted some weed. And came by regularly to get it. And then I got the courage to ask her out. We were inseparable. I fell so hard, and so fast. I was telling that woman I loved her everyday. Bucky and Sam kept telling me there was something off with her. She didn't want to move in, but she stayed at my house a lot. Didn’t seem to have a job, but I kept her up anyways. And then — fuck,” he slams his hand onto the steering wheel, leaving you without his warmth.

“A squad came barging into my house throwing shit all around, and what do you know, Peggy was the one leading them. She’d lied the whole time. Undercover for what she felt was the next up and coming drug ring. Sam and Bucky were right, and smarter than that bitch. They cleaned out my house the night before. She was the one that shoved me to the floor, got me in a submissive position on my knees and demanded for me to tell her where the drugs were. I just smiled up at her. I spent a few weeks in jail. And come to find out later she actually is dating Rumlow. Maybe she’s going to bust him, too. Maybe she actually loves him, I don’t know. But I’ve never trusted another woman. Nor been put in that position again.”

It's your turn to go silent. You hated that bitch. How dare she even touch Steve. She got all that with him. All the love and words, and before you. It shouldn’t matter, but she broke him. And the realization of him holding her actions over you. She made him not trust women so much that he couldn’t even be honest with you.

”Until you,” your head slowly turns to look at him, and he’s never seemed so torn. His eyes are glossy, and face solemn, and all you want to do is hold him. “I got on my knees for you. I have left you in my home alone. I have entertained you for months, and I’ve done everything I said that I would never do again, and it’s all been for you. I can’t — Dovey, I’m sorry, I can't say those words you deserve to hear.”

You let out an air of breath that you aren’t aware you were holding, as you search his face. He is being as candid as he can, and his hurt from being used, and lied to still lingers. But he said you deserve to hear the words.

“Steve, I told you it was enough. I will hear those words from you, but what’s more important I feel those words from you. I see them. I didn’t know about what she did to you, but I know that every time you drop to your knees to put my shoes on, it is something that isn’t easy for you, and you’ve given that to me more than once.”

“All that I told her should have been for you.”

“It will be,” your hand cups his cheek, and you place a kiss on his face. Kissing away the single tear that rolls past his lash line. She might have gotten the words, but you get the actions. “Why did you have everything from the playground removed?”

“I didn’t,” his lips turn up into a smile, but he doesn't dare to look out at the former park. His dark lashes splay across his cheeks, keeping his eyes closed, choosing to feel this moment instead of just seeing it. “That piece of equipment doesn’t look familiar? That is the first place that I stared at the face of God. It holds a special meaning to me,” you roll your eyes, attempting to turn away from his silly self when he grabs at your face. Hand on your jaw, making you look at him. His fingers are steady but not too harsh.

His eyes open slowly, and you stare at his perfectly imperfect blue eyes with their bit of green lacing through the crystal blue, “Don’t look away from me when I’m talking to you, and being sweet.”

“You’re talking about my pussy.”

Steve gives you a boop to your nose and a too innocent smile for him, “I think you mean my pussy. At least that’s what you tell me every time I fuck into you. Are you saying I don’t own this pussy anymore,” the hand holding onto your jaw falls in between your thighs, and cups your covered mound. “I do love that you wear skirts. Do you realize how easy it would be to move these panties over and…hey!”

He yells after you as you jump out of the car. Looking back at him with a playful grin. “If it’s your pussy, come and claim it!” Squealing you run away from the giant tattooed man that stomps after you. He doesn’t even have to run with his long strides. But you don’t stop.

Bobbing and weaving on the mostly empty lot. Looking back at him laughing carelessly, and you see the first genuine smile spread across his angelic face. If it wasn’t for his chiseled body covered in ink, he’d look almost boy-like. You’re glad he didn’t tattoo his face. But right now in this moment, you see him for the man he was before his harsh world crashed over him.

Crinkles at the edge of his eyes that you love to kiss. You wished you could see those lines more often. They did seem to be making an appearance more often now. His lines on his face told a story, much like the tattoos and scars that stained his skin.

He reaches out a hand to grab you, but you dodge his advance. Doing a quick twirl before you sprint away, and turn to look at him, “Is that the best you got, Rogers?”

“Now, you’ve gone too far. Take that back!” You’re almost tempted to call him that again.

“Never, daddy!” He growls, wrapping his hand around your wrist, but you slip away. “Stevie, you really are losing your touch. AHH!” You screech when both his arms wrap around you. He pulls you so tight against his body it takes your breath away. You struggle to get away, not wanting this playful Steve to disappear just yet.

Struggling so hard that the two of you slam onto the ground in a fit of giggles, “What was it that you called me, Dovey?”

“Captain,” laughing when he rolls his eyes, and shakes his head no.

“You’re such a liar,” he crows, his teeth nibbling on your neck. Playfully biting you, while demanding you admit the names you called him. “Tell me, baby,” his voice turns labored. The playful chase already over as you wiggle around in his embrace.

His thumb hooks under the elastic of your panties. And he starts to jerk down the cotton. Lifting you up a bit to fully remove them. Legs being pushed apart by his wide body, and you pull at his button, trying to release the monster cock that is straining in these jeans. “Tell me first, and I’ll give you everything you want.”

Pushing aside your hand, he pulls himself out. You yip at the sight of his pretty little piercing coated in beads of precum. Gripping the base of his cock he pumps himself a few times before rubbing his tip through your drenched center. His squishy head barely pushing through your entrance, “I called you Rogers,” his hips thrust forward, leaving you blinded by the intense and immediate stretch.

Vision is blurry. Like a filter had been laid over the world around you, and all you see is him. All you feel is his weight lowering over top of you, and his arms caging you. The cold grass tickling your backside. Senses on overdrive because he gave so much of himself to you today.

“I called you — daddy,” you scream out as he fucks into you so hard and deep his tip kisses the edge of your cervix. The one name he told you not to call him, and you would pay for your indiscretions in pleasure. You are now aware of how you haven’t fully taken all of Steve from the way he is filling you up. A perfect fit indeed as you revel in having him so purely. His hips piston him deeper into your warmth than he’s ever been. Branding you in a different way than before. This is just for you and him.

”Fuck,” Steve grouses, a hand slides up to your neck. Keeping his eyes on yours as he adds a bit of pressure. He is fighting off saying what he really wants to say. Using your body to work through his emotions. Never looking to where the two of you connect, keeping both eyes trained on you.

The softest whimper explodes out of his chest as he holds your gaze, “You’re my best friend.”

His words contradict his sharp thrusts inside of you. “You are. I trust so few, but I trust you…the most,” you preen at his words. Mewling out his name, and circling your legs around him. Allowing your body to take every part of him. Soft words with harsh movements have your body floating and unable to focus.

“I love…love spending every day with you. I don’t want to miss a day,” he is getting there. Slowly. But he is. And judging by the sparks going through your body, you’re also almost there.

“You’re my best friend, too, Captain. Now finish me,” he rams into you. Hitting you in all the right spots until your eyes go crossed, and you roll them into the back of your head. “Steve!” you scream out as your body begins to tremble. There is nothing but the two of you out here in the middle of nowhere where Steve changed your life. And now you are also changing his life.

“My pussy sure does feel good,” he smirks at you. His body slams into you, and your back skids across the ground in the most delightful pleasured pain. You owned him. He is yours. And you will do everything to protect him. This stunted man is now yours to protect. He could hide and deny it, but he is yours.

“Your pussy is only for you.”

“Good,” he growls as you arch your back into him. Bringing yourself close to him. Your body stiffens up. Everything builds to the climax. Looking deep into his beautiful eyes, he nods, “Let go, Dovey,” and everything crashes down around Steve. Your velvety walls cling tight to his thick girth, and his sticky heat fills you up.

He lets your body sink to the ground slowly, and he smirks down at you. “You’re so pretty like this. Fucked hard and dumb, and filled to the brim of…”

“Steve Rogers,” you coo. You’d let this man do whatever he wanted to you. He is powerful, scary, intimidating, but to you he’s just your Captain.

“Let’s go home, sweetie. You need a bath. You have leaves in your hair,” he picks out a leaf, holding it up to prove the mess he made. “Plus you smell like dirt. Come on,” he slowly pulls himself out of you, flicking his eyes down to look at your spread legs. “When can we take that thing out of you?”

“Steve! I have only been having sex for a couple of months. Give me at least a year.”

”I love it when you whine, but a full year?” You nod, going to stand up. Wincing as you reach for your panties he really was deep. Body wobbling, and Steve holds you upright, but still keeps your panties out of your reach, and you stomp your foot. “If I have to wait a year, you have to ride back home with no panties.”

”Steve, your cum…”

“Yes, the thought of my cum leaking out of your cunt is part of the appeal of this arrangement,” exhaling quickly, you start walking away from him. “Oh, cutie, you acting like a brat and seeing that run down your leg is turning me on again.”

“Wash me clean, and you can have your pussy again.”

”I wasn’t going to ask,” he gulps, continuing to watch you walk away. You have been the best thing that’s happened to him. The best part of him. “But I’ll always ask for permission, Dovey,” he whispers, knowing you won’t hear him. “Because I love…hearing you beg.”

Steve’s hands squeeze on your foot, and he sighs when you can’t control the sounds that hum out of your mouth. “You’re the one causing those sounds,” your brow cocks up as you stare at him over the bubbles. “Can you be here with me all the time?”

“If you’ll let me suck on your clit underwater.”

You stare at him both confused and shocked. No way was he going under the water for such a thing, nor did you want his face between your legs right now. He starts to move his body from across the tub, closer to you, and you shake your head no.

“Do you doubt my abilities?”

“Not at all. I know you’d die in between my thighs and think it was the best death in the world. But I’d rather you not die,” or have him be where he was wanting his face be.

He blinks once slowly before getting even closer. Looking more like a predator than your boyfriend, “Steve, no!”

“Then sit on the ledge of the bathtub.”

“I’ll get cold.”

“Then dry off and I’ll feast on my pussy in the bed.”

“Can you give me a few more moments in here? Alone?” " He shakes his head no. “Why not?”

“Why the fuck do you want to stay in the tub?” Because you needed to. Did he not get you needed private time sometimes?

“I have something I need to do, and I don’t want you in here,” pursing his lips, he narrows his eyes while watching you. Making you uncomfortable with how hard he’s staring at you. “Stop! Get out, and give me just a moment.”

“What do you need to do that I can’t see?”

“Seriously?” He scoots a bit closer to you, and you push your foot up against his chest, holding him in place. All the while knowing that this would not keep him away from you, “What are you doing?”

“Going to suck on your clit,” like it is the most obvious answer in the world. Shaking your head no, Steve sighs. “You know I could lift you up and make you do whatever I want you to, so why don’t you explain to me what the problem is, and why you don’t want me to touch you right now?”

You take a long look at Steve, sighing before looking down at the bubbles. Steve had done so much to break down your walls. He had made you a completely different person, a stronger person. He had turned your world upside down. Had just been inside of you, but you don’t want his face down there.

“Dovey?”

“I need to shave,” Steve scoffs, trying to push his body towards you. “Steve, stop. I don’t want your face there.”

“Does it look like I care about a little bit of hair. Let me suck your clit.”

“No.”

“Even though you’re pissing me off, I do think I have found the perfect woman. Because you, my darling, don’t put up with my bullshit. How does it feel to be the only woman that has ever tamed Steve Rogers? Don’t,” the timbre of his voice lowers when you cross your arms across your chest.

He stares deep into your eyes as he gets a bit closer to you. Gaze never leaves yours, but he uses a hand to cup your mound. His fingers roll over your entrance as he tilts his head watching you, “It’s not that bad.”

“It is to me, and I haven’t even found the energy to get away from you to shave.”

“Since I’m such a menace to you, let me shave you,” it is a simple statement and said so easily, but the audacity of this man.

“No.”

“You’re being a brat.”

“It’s one of your favorite things about me.”

“I’m a bigger fan of my pussy. Let me shave you. I’ll get it how you like it because frankly, I don’t get a damn. But I also get to see the face of god,” he’s relentless. Ridiculous even. A menace for you. And the way his eyes flick all over your face, and he never once pushes past your entrance, just lazily taps his fingers on it. “It will be so fucking sexy.”

You’re doubtful of that. You also don’t trust that Steve won’t try to devour you, regardless of what you want. “I want to do it, Dove. I will bow down before you and shave every inch of you if that is what you want. I want to be in every part of your life. Even the parts that you find embarrassing. Because all I know is I get to spend even more time with my favorite girl. Please, Dovey. I’m begging you, please, let me shave your pussy.”

“I’ve never done this before,” you sigh, biting at your lip.

“Neither have I. You get another one of my firsts. Just…just sit on the edge of the tub. I’ll be careful,” he wouldn’t stop until you give him what he wants. And there’s something adorably sexy about him wanting to take care of you in the most intimate and simple way. You want him to.

Taking a deep breath you lift yourself onto the side of the tub. Spreading your legs slowly as Steve’s face beams up at you as his eyes drift all over your body. Watching as the suds coast down your soft curves. Consuming you with his eyes alone.

“This is not that bad. But let me take care of you,” he reaches for the razor and runs a smooth hand over your mound. His thumb teases along your clit, and you can’t help but whimper out his name. “Shh, don’t make that sound just yet, Dovey,” sudding up some soap, he spreads it over your skin. Making sure to coat every bit of your exposed skin with the foam, and his hands expertly move the razor over your supple body. Making sure to clean it after every pass.

Even though you know it is killing him, he never makes a lewd joke. He doesn’t slip a finger in, it’s like this is his job. It’s fascinating to watch him. He keeps looking up at you through those inky black lashes making sure you're grading his work. And when he’s not looking at you, his tongue pushes out the front of his mouth in concentration, and you commit this moment to your memory. He looks adorable.

He always does wheng a he’s not trying to be this hard drug lord. There’s a sweetness, and a loyalty to him. This need to control, but also a need to protect and take care of you. You position yourself to lean back more, and he growls, rolling his eyes to look up at you. “This isn’t funny. You’re already torturing me.”

“I enjoy the view,” this big bad drug lord was down on his knees, and just for you. Towering above you, or bowing before you. Submissive only for you, or your fearless dominating Captain. He was all yours.

“You’re a fucking tease, too,” Steve’s hand drops into the water, giving you a clear view of his hard and angry cock under the water. “You’re killing me.”

“I enjoy you from this angle.”

“You enjoy me worshiping you right at the face of god. You’re a sweet little tease. Has her pussy spread out deliciously before me, and making me shave you. Dove, the water isn’t fooling anyone,” you hum as he lets water drip over your body, washing away the remaining bubbles before he spreads your puffy lips out. Keeping you wide open before looking up at you.

“You’re dripping. Coated in that sweet honey because all you can think about is me fucking into you so hard and deep that my sweet little Dovey falls asleep, huh? Do you like me on my knees in front of you, and taking care of you in this way?” You answer by nodding your head. He knew you too well. You’d let him command you because you knew he had these sweet moments ready to remind you it isn’t just your cunt that keeps him obsessed.

“Dove, you’re no longer in the water, and I can’t attempt to deep sea suck on your clit.”

“You are ruining a sweet moment, Steven,” Steve adjusts to his knees, letting his heavy cock rub against your leg, and your legs spread even more, “Steve,” a whispered whine escapes your mouth, and you start going into that space where he controls your every thought and movement. Making everything about pleasing him because you get the utmost pleasure.

“I will try that one day. But you need to be fucked like my sweet little slut don’t you,” your head nods. A mess of words tumbles out of your mouth, and he stands up. Cock and piercing right at your face, and you whimper. Leaning forward you kiss the tip, sticking your tongue out to lick the vein on his cock. Looking up at him through your lashes when you tongue his slit.

“You sure do love Clarence, huh?”

“He loves me, too. Doesn’t he?”

“Clarence loves and adores you,” stepping out of the tub, he turns to you, lifting you up in his arms. He carries you into the bedroom, ripping open the curtains so you can see the woods and the moonlight creating silvery light into your room. Turning to the bed, he sets you on your knees.

“Put your head on the bed, and keep your eyes on me. You’ve teased me for too long,” you do as you're told, receiving a smile, and a soft slap to your pussy, “Such a good girl for me. As much as I love your fight, when you get in this space and will do anything just for this,” he spears into you with such a hard and deep thrust, your body scoots onto the bed.

Fingers cling to the sheets as Steve pulls himself out of you, “And what my Dovey wants,” another sharp thrust has you seeing stars. Stretched out, and that cool metal grazes over your cervix, “She gets,” gripping onto your hips he pounds into your depths.

Such frenzied movements. You aren’t sure if you have ever taken him so fully like this. So deep. So full. So aggressive in his movements. “And I…soon — soon you’ll have that thing removed and I will pump you so full of me that I start growing in your belly. You’ll be so filled with all of me. Something I have never done. You’ll get it all.”

His voice is gravely despite the words coming out of them. He means every bit of it. Making you understand and know that you are his world. Giving you all that he can, and more than he has to anyone else.

“I will do whatever it takes for you, Dovey. Anything to keep you safe. But you will always be mine. There will never be another. No one can ever treat you the way that I do. I own every part of you, all the way down to your soul. We’re bonded together. In this life and the next. I’m yours, but you’re mine. All of you. Every bit of your every being. It’s all mine. All. Mine.”

”It’s all yours,” you let out a scream of pleasure. Trying to get a grip on anything because the build up for the orgasm has you on edge. Your body tenses as euphoria builds up in your body. All the way deep into your soul. The most lewd, but also innocent form of being together. Searing himself throughout your body. And you didn’t even realize just how much you are burning yourself into his world. When he said anything, he meant it. You will always be his first thought.

No one has every had this much of Steve. And he would do whatever it took to keep you safe. The first and last thoughts on his mind are always you. Everything was just you. With your body almost flat on the bed now, he stabs into you, spurting his seed into your warmth and letting you milk him clean.

Losing a bit of himself in the moment, “God, I love…this,” he pants out. Watching your eyes close, and a derpy smile on your face. “I love it.”

You sleep so soundly. Can’t even feel Steve ghosting his lips over your worn body. You never complained about how much that he needs and uses you. You always just let him have whatever he wants. Even if you’re asleep he’s going to make sure that he spoils you with his touch. The only way he can show you how much he loves you, even if he can’t say it.

Not the way he sinks into you, but these moments. The ones where you’re softly snoring, and he’s staring over your body and painting your skin with his kisses like you are the most beautiful work of art. He wants to cover you in his — touch. He is working on it. He wants to give you what you need from him. He wants it more than he wants sleep. And one day he’ll find the way to give you all you deserve.

He didn’t bother closing the curtains and blinds. You love watching the woods outside to fall asleep. Saying that it makes you feel closer to him because it was just the two of you and the creatures.

He blinks, looking out into the distance when a flash of light catches his eye. Staring down onto the forest floor when he slings the blanket off him. Taking a moment to make sure you’re still asleep before he walks out the cabin. Teeth already clenched together as he marches down into the darkness.

Stopping when he squares up against a woman that once upon a time could have looked just like you. Her eyes lifeless as her sight moves from the bedroom window to Steve, “Didn’t bother to put a shirt on did you?”

He glares at her, snapping his fingers in her face when she looks back up at your sleeping form, “I need some money.”

“I told you I wasn’t giving you money,” his voice is quick and final, and she pouts up at him.

“She gets money.”

“Are you fucking serious right now?”

“Oh right, she lets you use her,” every conversation starts the same with her. Always money. Always he uses you. “Does she know?”

“That I paid for a fucking apartment and you trashed it, and got kicked out? No. I told her I would keep you safe. I don’t know what the fuck all that does because you can’t keep you goddamn nose clean. Let me see in between your fingers.”

“Fuck you!” Steve didn’t have to see. He could tell by the state of her, she’s no longer clean. A junkie that had nothing to lose and knew where he lived was dangerous.

“Why are you here, Lark? How did you know about our home?” She cocks up her eyebrow, looking Steve up and done before staring at his brand. “Yes, ours. How did you find this place?”

“I know people. Pussy gets you a lot of things. Ask my sister,” if she wasn’t a woman Steve would have backhand her.

“My patience is growing thin. What the fuck did you want,” she looks back up at your sleeping body, conflicted with emotions at how comfortable and unknowing you are. Did you even realize the shit Steve was into? Or did you just not care? The people that Steve employed? What they could do to you. “Lark!”

“Since you won’t give me money, we’re done here. I’m surprised you left her unattended. Did you remember to lock the door?” A more sinister person would smile, but Lark seems sad. Waiting for Steve to gasp before he bolts back towards the house. The door now wide open, and he sneaks around the room. Checking every dark corner before slinging the bedroom door open. You’re still asleep and none the wiser, but he can’t relax.

Needing to check the bathroom and closets, and keep turning back to you. Still relaxed and dreaming. Unaware of the turmoil that is going through his head at someone having the ability to hurt you. Didn’t even feel he had the right to crawl back in the bed beside you, or even hold you.

“Steve?” You whisper, turning in the bed to look at him. Blinking away the sleep in your eyes, “Baby, get back in bed. Can you close the curtains?”

“Yeah,” he says, telling himself the curtains will never be open again. Looking out into the woods, he wonders how Lark got here. Where she was at and where she was going. She was up to something. She wasn’t alone. He made promises to you to never hurt her, but if it comes between you and her, she will be eliminated.

“Take the sweatpants off, too,” you hated when he wears clothes to bed when you’re naked. As he tosses his pants to the side, they hit the dresser, knocking something into the floor. “The hamper, Steve.”

“Yes, ma’am,” his voice is quiet and solemn, and he doesn’t pay attention to the envelope that floats to the floor. “Let me set the alarm though.”

You’ll never be left unattended. He’d have you with him every second. You were all that mattered to him. “Mmm,” you moan, unaware of what transpired tonight. And even he wasn’t sure, but he would be soon.

Next

Masterlist

Taglist: @tis-thedamn-season @marveloustaylortot @pono-pura-vida @peaches1958 @seitmai @smile1318 @andydrysdalerogers @cjand10 @midnightramyeoncravings @kmc1989 @theinheriteddutchess @annaallicce @feyfantome @jesevans @tittittoee @bananapiedreams @onclouds999 @darkserenity24 @abbatoirablaze @ashychangeling @identity2212 @mrsevans90 @weirdothatwritess @floralwsloki @thestralwriting @ambearsstuff @kandis-mom @hoodiesandicedcoffee @awhoreformoree @nyxbellabarnes @buckybarnesisdaddy @honeyhoneylovelylove

[luna-azzurra]

How to describe emotions? Please help.

1. Show, don't tell: Instead of simply stating the emotion, use vivid descriptions and sensory details to create a sensory experience for the reader. Show how the emotion affects the character's body language, facial expressions, and actions.

Example (Anger): His fists clenched tightly, his face turning an alarming shade of red. He balled up his trembling hands, nails digging into his palms, as his voice exploded in a torrent of seething words.

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2. Use metaphors and similes: Comparing emotions to relatable experiences or objects can make them more tangible and relatable. Metaphors and similes add depth and richness to your descriptions.

Example (Joy): Her laughter bubbled up like a symphony of tinkling bells, filling the room with its infectious melody. Her eyes sparkled like the stars on a clear, moonlit night.

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3. Incorporate body sensations: Emotions are not just felt emotionally but also physically. Include physical sensations that accompany the emotion to make it more tangible and immersive for the reader.

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Example (Fear): A chill crawled up her spine, prickling her skin with goosebumps. Her heart pounded like a drum, reverberating through her chest, while a knot tightened in the pit of her stomach.

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4. Consider the character's thoughts and internal dialogue: Describing the character's thoughts and internal dialogue can provide insight into their emotional state, allowing readers to connect with the character on a deeper level.

Example (Sadness): As tears welled up in her eyes, she fought to hold back a sob. Why did everything feel so heavy? Each breath weighed on her chest, as if she carried the weight of the world within her.

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5. Show the impact on the character's environment: Emotions can influence the way we perceive the world around us. Describe how the emotional state affects the character's surroundings, whether it's through changes in the atmosphere, colors, or overall mood.

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Example (Excitement): The air crackled with electric anticipation. Vibrant hues danced before his eyes, as if the world had suddenly transformed into a kaleidoscope of possibilities. It felt like every corner of the room was infused with a contagious buzz.

if you have further questions or would like to have it explained more explicitly write to me on my IG: Saraswritingtipps, I answer much faster

[flowerandblood]

Rip my heart, heal my soul (2)

[ Jack the Ripper • modern!Aemond x female ]

[ warnings: sex content, smut, angst, stalking, mention of murder and body mutilation, control obsession, trauma ]

[ description: Trying to find happiness in a relationship with the girl who has taken over his heart and mind, Aemond must face problems and a disease that poisons his head. Additionally, nothing sinks forever and one of his crimes is discovered by the police. Murder, mutilation of his victims, obsessive, poetic, dark!Aemond. ]

This chapter was created at the request of fans as a continuation of the oneshot of the same title, which you can read here: Rip my heart, heal my soul

Aemond Inside Alphabet

*English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy!*

My others works: Masterlist

_____

He wasn't sure if any holiday had ever passed for him so quickly. Ever since he'd met her, ever since he'd come to her room, ever since he'd promised himself that it was over, that he was going to change, it had felt like the night of his life had finally dawned.

They saw each other almost every day.

Even though he felt like not letting her out of his arms when he woke up by her side, that he felt like just lingering in her embrace, looking endlessly at her peaceful sleeping face, playing with her hair, brushing the skin of her arm with his fingertips, he knew he had to do it.

Every day was like a battle with himself, with his weaknesses, breaking out of his habits, out of his worst nightmares.

Every day when they got dressed, when he had to go to work and she had to run her errands, he felt trepidation in his heart, thought only of the fact that he would never see her again.

That somehow she would find out about what he had been doing for years.

That she would meet someone else, someone better on her path, someone she could fall in love with.

That he would do something to hurt her or discourage her, try to control her too much and ruin everything.

For a few hours after their separation, he thought he was just dying.

And then the afternoon would come, and she would walk into the café where he worked, smiling and happy, telling him at the counter about what she had done and where she had been, about the new article she was writing, about what they needed to read or watch this time, and he was unable to concentrate.

She had come back.

She still loved him.

He wanted to cry.

He was afraid to tell her about his fears, afraid that then she would realise how fucked up he was, what chaos was in his head, how dangerous he was, and then exactly what he feared would happen.

He looped himself in the prison of his thoughts, catching himself looking at her when she spoke to him as they sat in her room, talking about literature, about films, about people, about life, watching her facial expressions.

He knew that when she disagreed with him, her eyebrows furrowed slightly, the corner of her mouth twitched and her eyes narrowed, when she was excited or happy a sudden flash passed through her gaze, her pupils dilated and watched him expectantly, a wide, sweet smile on her face.

When he was sad or worried she would lower her gaze, often playing with some material lying beside her, glancing at him surreptitiously, warmth and boundless understanding in her eyes.

She would tell him about her imperfections, about what she thought she had done wrong in her life, about her conflict with her grandfather and her intimate relationship with her brother, about the fact that her parents did not want her to study literature but medicine.

She told him about how, as a child, she was afraid to sleep alone, imagining from a young age that she would open her eyes and some stranger would stand over her and hurt her, that she would be terrified and afraid, but no one would hear her.

As she told him this he would look at her with his lips clenched on the verge of crying, almost falling to his knees in front of her, confessing to her that he could not be with her.

Instead, she ended up in his arms, naked, and he sucked and licked her lips, caressed her beautiful body with his mouth, whispering to her that she was safe, that she would never spend any night alone again, that if anyone tried to hurt her, he would protect her.

And then he slid into her, into her hot, throbbing body, always so incredibly moist and ready to take him inside her.

They made love to each other painfully slowly, stretching their fulfilment to the limit, to the edge of pain, and came at last violently, completely, looking at each other with lips parted and foreheads pressed together, panting hard, stroking each other's faces.

"− so kind − so warm −" He whispered to her, placing light kisses full of devotion and tenderness on her cheeks, warm from the exertion. "− so wise − so beautiful −"

The natural progression of things after that was that he couldn't pull away from her body, their skin as if clinging to each other, his arms embracing her, snuggling her face into his chest − she huddled in his embrace as if in the safest place on earth, full of confidence, his cheek nestling against the top of her head, his hand weaving into her hair, the other trailing down her bare back, putting her to sleep with the calm, repetitive motion of his fingers.

In that moment, as they fell asleep in each other's embrace, he was at his happiest.

He was at peace.

She was in his arms, safe.

When she twisted or wanted to change position he would open his embrace only to close it again, adjusting to her, snuggling into her from behind, non-committally, almost anointingly placing his hand on her soft breast, focusing on the way her chest rose and fell with each breath.

She was alive.

Since he'd been around her, since he'd spent every night with her, he hadn't killed anyone.

She was the first girl he had had sex with more than once. What's more, he'd never done it before in such a way, so tenderly, with such care, a need for comfort for himself and for her.

It had gone from something dirty, filthy and disgusting to a form of his greatest devotion and desire, a sense of wanting to be just inside her, just with her.

Her moans were not in his ears an animal howl, but the sweetest, most innocent sound he had ever heard, as if she was almost suffering from the pleasure he was giving her − he had to comfort her with his lips, whispering between kisses down her throat that just a little longer, that he would let her come soon, that she knew he would never leave her unsatisfied.

He would then give her what she needed and she would melt beneath him, her lips parted in an expression of total surrender to the heat that was rippling through her body in waves − she would turn her face away, unable to look at him in such an intimate, private moment, helpless.

He would catch her cheeks and thrust his tongue between her lips again, kissing and licking her with a loud click as he finally filled her with his seed, hearing her sigh of relief.

He had fallen in love with her.

When he realised this one evening, looking at her, sitting next to her on her bed, leaning against the windowsill, he stopped listening to her, staring at his hands, playing nervously with his fingers.

She was just telling him about her professor, whom she liked very much − she fell silent at some point, seeing that he had closed in his mind again, and touched uncertainly his arm.

He felt goosebumps as her fingers ran over his bare skin, his body involuntarily reacting to her closeness with desire.

"What are you thinking about?" She asked quietly, looking at him uncertainly, her hand trailing up and down his arm reassuringly.

He was unable to look at her.

"I need to tell you something."

He felt her freeze at the tone of his voice, heard her swallow hard, knowing for some time that something had been bothering him, asking him about it several times without getting any meaningful answer.

"I'm not a good person." He muttered, quickly burying his face in his hands, for some reason bursting into sobs, terrified, feeling that he was shaking all over, that he was about to lose her, that he was about to go mad again. "God, I've done terrible things."

He felt her looking at him, hushing him, stroking his hair soothingly, embracing him, kissing his ear, pressing her nose to the side of his face, he could smell her wonderful, pleasant scent.

"Do you think I can bear what you want to tell me?" She asked quietly, in a whisper, as if she was afraid someone would hear them.

He felt himself freeze all over, his heart pounding in his chest like mad − he opened and closed his mouth, hesitant, terrified.

"No."

He was answered by a long silence that seemed to last an eternity, her fingers stroking his hair thoughtfully.

"Then I don't want to know."

He swallowed loudly, lowering his hands, looking at her shocked, not believing she had said that − they looked at each other for a long moment, in her eyes warmth, pain and some kind of certainty he didn't understand.

"You don't understand. I did something very, very bad." He mumbled in a trembling voice, as if trying to make her realise that he wasn't talking about owing rent, breaking someone's arm or robbing someone.

He was killing women and gouging out their eyes.

He sliced them with a cleaver and packed them in black bags.

He would take them far out of town and throw them into lakes.

It had to come out sooner or later, someone would fall on the trail, find the trace and the rest would fall apart like dominoes.

"I don't want to know. You promised me you would protect me. How will you protect me from the consequences of what you want to say?" She asked, and he covered his mouth with his hand, his eyebrows arched in an agony he'd never felt before, his whole body was twitching.

"I knew from the beginning. I felt it when I saw you for the first time. Just like when I read the Black Cat, I went back to continue reading the book knowing that I would be scared, knowing that the darkness was waiting for me there. When I met you I knew, I knew from the beginning that something had happened in your life, something terrible that I don't want to know about." She muttered on the verge of crying, touching her fingers to his cheek as if he was made of fragile glass about to shatter in front of her, her eyes red from the tears, warm, filled with affection and pain, her lips trembling as she spoke the words.

He stared at her in disbelief, breathing hard, and after a moment they both threw themselves into each other's arms, bursting into loud, helpless sobs.

She knew.

She felt who he was.

She felt who he was and she let him into her life anyway.

Into her heart.

He had sworn not to tell her and that if there was any danger of her finding out from another source, he would make sure it never reached her ears.

If up to now he had thought he loved her, if he had been crazy about her, she had now become in his eyes some kind of goddess.

That night it was she who cuddled him close, stroking his head, his hair, his shivering body, whispering that it was all right now, that he was brave, that she knew he wanted to tell her because he really loved her, that he was afraid of losing her, that everything would be all right.

Knowing that she understood him, that she knew what he was afraid of made him suddenly feel some kind of intoxicating relief.

As the end of the summer holidays and her return to university approached, they both began to contemplate what to do. He was ready to drop everything for her and go after her, knowing that he would find a job easily and that working in a coffee shop was no great feat.

They decided to give it a try.

They searched the internet for a bedsit together deciding that they would settle for anything for the time being, so they lay on her bed with his laptop, searching the classifieds.

He made sure he thoroughly cleaned his computer of all remnants of his past, as well as his flat − he checked it several times, remembering his promise to her, and left his phone and his laptop with her without fear.

He trusted her.

He trusted her like no one else.

Never in his life had he felt such satisfaction, such fulfilment as when they spent their first evening in their new home together.

They arranged their clothes in the wardrobe, their books on the shelves, their plates, their mugs, hung pictures and photographs, everything was shared, everything was theirs.

They made love that night panting loudly, finally not having to hold back in front of her other roommates living next door, and caressed each other completely naked as she sat on top of him, rising slowly up and down, filling herself with his swollen erection.

"− so beautiful −" She whispered tenderly, and he felt his cock pulsing hard inside her at her words, desperate, so in need of fulfilment. "− I desire you so much −"

He kissed her greedily, locking his lips with hers, slamming into her more aggressively, feeling that if she kept talking he would just cum inside her and he wanted her to come on top of him, to feel her orgasm on his cock, the pleasure flowing through her body.

"− c'mon − my little girl wants to come with my cock inside her, hm? −" He gasped and she nodded quickly, looking up at him in despair, rising and falling on him faster and faster with the loud, sticky clicks of wet skin hitting skin.

"− I know − I know, baby − c'mon, your boyfriend needs to fill ya −" He breathed out, pressing his thumb to where their bodies met, finding between her folds the place of her hidden delight − she moaned helplessly as he began to massage her clit with circular, sure motions, pressing her forehead against his, her walls began to clench around him.

"− yes − God, please − please − please −" She cried out loudly and came with a sweet sigh of relief, tilting her head back only to snuggle her face against his cheek again.

She squealed when he changed position suddenly, throwing her onto her back, grabbing her thighs in his hands, fucking her furiously, panting loudly with her, ignoring her pathetic whimpering from overstimulation, her hands trying to push him away to no avail.

"− shhh − I know, baby − just a little longer − m' close −" He growled out and squeezed his eyes tightly shut, breathing deeply, feeling his seed fill her hot insides. He leaned over her with difficulty, feeling that his body was soft and numb, and placed a messy, light kiss on her lips, to which she responded with a sigh of delight.

He felt like he was in a constant state of panic when he had to leave for work and she was going to class. All he could think about during this time was her, what they were going to watch or read when they got home, what he was going to make for dinner to make her happy, remembering to pop into the shop on the way to the flat to buy her favourite rolls so she could have them for breakfast in the morning.

Nothing made him feel better than messages from her. She asked him not to text her during class so she could concentrate and he respected that, albeit with great pain and suffering, all the time checking his phone to see if she had had a break yet.

He smiled under his breath as he saw her message, recalling the situation from the day before when one of the female customers didn't understand the intent of the espresso.

If he had been a person before he met her, before he was with her, perhaps he would have done something to her, but now he was surprised to find that he was indifferent.

The opinion of strangers no longer mattered to him.

He thought sometimes with regret that perhaps if he had met her in high school, if she had been there for him during that difficult time, he would never have killed anyone.

That he would have been a completely different person.

He tried to make up for what he had done, what was weighing down on him and her like a black storm cloud with his commitment and understanding, his struggle with his possessiveness, jealousy and fear.

When one evening, which in his mind they were supposed to spend together as usual, she told him that her friends had invited her to go out on the town with them and she really wanted to go, he felt a powerful pang of disappointment, an immediate desire to keep her.

He needed her and she wanted to leave him.

She proposed to him straight away to go with her, but he didn't want to go anywhere.

He wanted to have dinner with her, watch something together, talk to her, make love to her and fall asleep beside her, as he had every day for the many wonderful weeks in which she had filled his life.

But he said nothing, only pressing his lips together, unable to hide the expression of displeasure on his face. She saw at once how tense he had become and some of her own sensitive intuition told her what was bothering him.

He could not explain how she guessed with such ease what he was afraid of.

She approached him with a tender sigh, grasping his hand in hers, and he swallowed loudly, stroking her soft palm with his thumb.

"Stay." He said quietly, pleadingly, not even daring to look at her, embarrassed by his weakness, his begging.

"It's been a very long time since I went anywhere with them." She said, neither agreeing nor refusing him − he let the air in quietly, looking intently at their entwined hands.

"Why do you care so much?" He asked with some kind of resentment, a sense that his presence was not enough for her, though he wanted only her, loved only her, needed only her.

She, however, looked at him with understanding and serenity, as if she had anticipated the question.

"Because I like them. The same way I like to eat rolls for breakfast in the morning, and you buy them from the shop to make me happy. I change our bedding every few days because I know you like the smell of it fresh and washed. You make me tea in my doggie-shaped mug because it's my favourite − because I like it. There's no greater reason for that." She explained softly, her voice enveloping him like a blanket, her words somehow strangely calming him even though he still didn't want her to leave.

He swallowed loudly, licking his lips with his tongue, feeling them become all dry with emotion.

"If I let you go there, will it make you happy?" He asked quietly, and she nodded.

"Yes. And out of gratitude that you sacrificed for me, I will make you happy when I return." She whispered and he felt heat in his lower abdomen, his manhood pulsed hard in his trousers at her words − he finally lifted his gaze to her, breathing deeply.

"And when are you coming back?" He asked uncertainly, and she mused for a moment.

"I'll be back by 10 p.m. Okay? We'll still have time to watch something together then." She said with a smile and he nodded, recognising that, indeed, it was not a very late hour.

"Okay." He whispered, and she grasped his cheeks in her hands, leaned over him and kissed him tenderly.

His manhood throbbed aggressively in his trousers, demanding her closeness, his hands tightened on the material of her jumper, but she pulled away from him.

"When I get back, you're going to come inside me as many times as you want. Okay?" She asked lightly, as if she were talking about the weather, and he felt a shiver run down his cheeks and just nodded, swallowing hard.

He watched her put on her shoes, watched her put on her jacket and backpack and waved at him saying they would see each other in a few hours.

She left.

He felt the urge to cry like a baby.

She had left him, and he needed her.

He sighed heavily, running his hand over his face, and thought he needed to pull himself together.

She had already told him about the friends she was going to meet and described them to him in detail.

He couldn't help himself and, during a break from work, he found every single one of them on Facebook, paying the most attention to the boy she was studying with for the year. According to what she said, he had a status set up for a relationship with some other girl, which reassured him.

Occasionally he would check what she said about her schedule, where she was going or who she was texting with, casting a quick glance at her phone.

She never lied.

She always told the truth and answered all his questions with commitment, even the ones that could be considered already too far-fetched.

"If your friend has a girlfriend, why is he meeting you?" He asked frustratedly, pouring hot water over her tea and his coffee − he heard her hum along behind, sitting in a chair in just his black Tshirt, eating her favourite lettuce and tomato rolls.

He loved it when she wore his T-shirts.

There was no more intimate sight for him, a confirmation that she was his.

"His girlfriend doesn't know that much about literature, he can't talk to her about our exams or the assignments we have to do. For the rest, he often brings her with him − she's a nice girl and she's very fond of us. I was once alone with her at lunch when they were having a crisis and she needed my advice." She said calmly and he furrowed his brow, placing her cup in front of her, sitting down next to her at the table.

"Why yours exactly?" He asked, concerned that she might have been close to this boy and for some reason knew him better than his own girlfriend.

She took a sip of tea and went on with her answer, undaunted by the tone of his voice.

"She said I was a good listener and that she knew I wouldn't judge her. She told me that she sometimes feels silly in his presence because she doesn't know what he's talking about. That it makes her think they are not meant for each other. But I told her that in front of us he is always talking about how smart she is, that she does so many difficult things in her classes that he feels dumb around her. She was relieved when it turned out they were both afraid of the same thing, and since then I think they've gotten along very well." She said lightly, and he hummed under his breath, taking a sip of coffee, feeling some kind of relief and not continuing the subject.

Although he had never trusted anyone in his life, except perhaps his own mother, with whom he had sporadic, telephone contact, he tried with all his might to trust her and fight the tormenting thoughts in his head.

That's why, when she left, he was lying in their bed, trying to read the book she had recommended to him, but he was unable to concentrate.

He glanced at his watch and phone display once in a while, wondering if she was okay, if she was safe − suddenly he realised that she would be coming back at night and he felt apprehensive, so he thought it was a good reason to text her and ask if he should pick her up.

That way he could also get a glimpse of the people she had come with and be sure she would get home safely.

She wrote back to him after a few minutes.

He sighed heavily, pressing his lips together, accepting that he had to wait patiently for her return and wrote her back quickly.

He shuddered when she answered him almost immediately, feeling warm in his heart at the thought that she had a phone close at hand in case he wanted to contact her, if he needed her.

He felt her message in his trousers and was now completely hard. Desperate, he even thought about relieving himself quickly with his hand, but decided with difficulty that he would restrain himself.

The closer it got to the agreed time, the more stress and anxiety he felt.

What if she was late?

If she doesn't keep her word?

He felt a burning sensation under his eyelids and a fear − a fear of disappointment, of the thought that he couldn't trust her after all.

He jumped up when he heard the sound of a key turning in the lock couple minutes later − he glanced quickly at his phone and saw that she had returned fifteen minutes ahead of schedule, some kind of heat wave running through his body.

She walked inside with a smile, greeting him loudly, pulling off her shoes and jacket as if nothing had happened, as if she hadn't left him for so many hours and he hadn't performed the heroic feat of waiting for her.

He literally threw himself at her, pressing her against the wall, clinging desperately to her lips, shoving his tongue deep down her throat, unzipping and ripping her trousers from her body, her breath heavy, her hands entwined in his hair.

"How could you leave me?" He gasped between one messy, wet kiss and the next, a loud, drawn-out click accompanied the chaotic movements of their mouths − he didn't even know when he'd pulled her panties off or when her fingers quickly undid his belt and trousers, releasing what was underneath.

"Hm? I've been waiting for you. I've been waiting for you and fucking dying of longing." He growled, grabbing her hips in his hands and lifting her up − her legs entwined at his back in a natural reflex, her body arched like a string as he forced his way inside her suddenly, brutally, deeply, filling her to the very end with a loud groan of relief.

"− I know, baby − I know, you've been so brave for me −" She mewled into his mouth with difficulty, clamping her hands around his neck and hair, running them up and down his nape, over his cheek, getting out sentences between their lustful, passionate kisses and the brutal, sure thrusts of his hips, smacking again and again against her buttocks with a wet slaps.

"− so good to me − so patient − so understanding − I'm here now − ah, God, I'm here, baby −" She cried out innocently, sweetly, and he moaned low at her words, sinking his face into the hollow of her neck, licking her sweat − he bited her, gripping her hips tightly, fucking her furiously, wanting to punish her at the same time as he wanted to reward her because she was back, she was back, she was back.

"− I love you −" He mumbled, and she sobbed loudly at his words, her core pulsed hard against his length, trying to keep him inside. "− God, I love you so fucking much −"

She came with his name on her lips, and he cum inside her soon after, panting heavily − he sank to his knees with her, shuddering all over, her fingers trailing over his head, his back, cuddling him tenderly, both of them pulsing hard, breathing anxiously, bliss in her voice.

"− my beloved − so good to me − waited for me so patiently − so good −" She praised him, kissing his face again and again − he looked at her dreamily, recognising that he would never be able to refuse her anything, running his fingertips down her soft cheek.

"− I love you −" He whispered, as if he wanted her to understand, to comprehend the enormity of his feelings, the enormity of his struggle, the enormity of his devotion.

She grasped his hand in hers and kissed it tenderly, then pressed her soft lips to each of his fingers − his hand that had done so many bad things in the past, that had hurt with such great ease.

"− I love you too − I'm here −" She whispered soothingly, kissing his fingers anew with the unhurried, tender movement of her lips. "− I'm here, only yours −"

He thought, looking at her with tenderness, that perhaps with her he would calm down.

The voices in his head would quieten, calmed by her whispering, until they finally disappeared.

He fell asleep that night in her embrace, full of hope, his face snuggled between her naked breasts, listening to her breathing, feeling the beat of her heart under his cheek.

She was alive.

The next day, however, he felt like dying.

Browsing through the news portals, he came across a picture of a black sack pulled from a lake, the article left him with no illusions.

MACABRE DISCOVERY Alice Moore's family did not give up in their search and sadly finally found their daughter, who had been missing for a year. Unfortunately, she has not been found alive and the details of this crime are shocking. The quartered parts of her body were found in a black bag at the bottom of a lake near the village of Hanoverth, thirty kilometres from where she lived. It was known that Alice had gone missing on the night of 11 over 12 October last year, the last time she was seen on the surveillance cameras of the Moon Vibe club. She had left her friends, possibly feeling unwell and left the club. She can be seen walking down the street just outside the premises and then disappearing around the corner to vanish without a trace for a whole 12 months. The motives for this crime are unknown, although it is suspected that the girl's previous sexual partners, who may have been jealous of her and murdered her in an act of revenge, may have been involved. Most gruesome, however, is the fact that her head was stripped of her eyeballs, which were not found in the bag. The police have launched an investigation into the case.

He felt tears welling up in his eyes and even though a customer was standing in front of him, asking him if he would finally serve him, he couldn't look away from the phone and what he had read.

He knew it would come out at some point.

Some part of him may have even hoped for it before he met her.

But not now.

He apologised to his client, called out to his colleague to change him for a moment, left, locked himself in the toilet and crouched down, leaning his back against the wall, starting to sob, clasping his hands over his face.

He remembered this girl, remembered her chatting him up in the club, asking him about his eye, telling him he was handsome, well built − she'd laughed and put her arm around his neck, and he'd felt a growing frustration, anger and this recurring, disgusting thought.

Whore.

Whore.

Whore.

Whore.

Whore.

He waited for her in the distance, in the other street, where he knew the cameras didn't reach. When she saw him smoking a cigarette she herself approached him, she herself suggested they go to the hotel, to have some fun.

So they went.

He never left his fingerprints or any traces behind.

He was a pedant.

He ran his hands through his hair, trembling all over, regretting everything he had done, but not because he felt sympathy for the victims, but because he was a threat to her now − that if this came out and she was at the centre of it, her academic career, her place at the university would be lost.

It would destroy her life.

He thought that in the state he was in now he might kill her in an act of despair, strangle her at the thought that she would not be his, that he could not have her.

He left work even though he hadn't finished his shift, drove to their flat and packed, tears rolling down his cheeks as he wrote a message to her on a piece of paper, the pen in his hand trembling with each letter.

My past caught up with me. I won't drag you down with me.

She wrote him messages as she did every day, but he didn't answer her, and when the hour came when she usually went home his phone rang.

It rang and rang and rang, and he wept and wept and wept, already being several hours away from their town, from their home, from their happiness.

He promised her that he would protect her.

That he would protect her from the world

That he would protect her from himself.

It wasn't until the next day, lying in his hotel room, in an act of despair and longing, that he dared to open her messages on his phone.

He regretted reading it, as he burst into helpless sobs again, powerless and without hope, feeling like an empty vessel, an empty shell, exactly like the bodies of the women he threw into the lake.

He quickly found a job at another café, explaining to his boss that he had to leave his town suddenly and return to care for a sick parent.

He was surprised at how easy it was for him to lie.

She was the only one he never lied to.

She wrote to him every day.

She told him about her day at university, what she was eating, what she was reading. She also sent him her new articles, and he read it all several times a day, recognising that it was only because of the information from her that he wasn't going mad yet.

He didn't write her back.

He didn't want to give her hope.

After what he had done, there was no happy ending for them.

Even so, he hadn't killed anyone since he met her − he didn't want to sleep with any other women, touch any other women.

He abhorred them.

He wanted only her.

One day, although she was in the habit of writing to him around noon when she had her lunch break between classes, he had not received any message from her. He felt anxious, but thought that perhaps something important had happened and he would hear from her later.

He did not hear from her all day.

He despaired and when he returned to his newly rented flat he simply stared at the ceiling.

She gave up.

She didn't speak to him for the next few days and doubts began to creep up inside him.

What if something happened to her?

He pressed his lips together at the thought, feeling the cold sweat on the back of his neck.

What if she was in hospital?

What if someone had hurt her?

He remembered her words about how scared she was that one day she would wake up in the night and someone would be standing over her.

How scared must she have been at night now that he wasn't there for her, that she couldn't find refuge in his arms?

He felt a tightening in his throat at the thought and struggled to stop himself from crying in front of the customer he had just poured coffee for.

He told his boss the next day that he needed a few days off and would work it off later and returned to their town, heading to her University.

He didn't spot her anywhere, but he knew what time her classes were and he recognised her friends from Facebook, so he easily spotted Hannah in the crowd of students.

"Hi. I'm sorry −" He started and she flinched, surprised, glancing at him with big eyes, looking at his scar.

He figured he didn't give a shit if she was disgusted with him or not.

He explained to her quickly who he was looking for and that he was very worried because she wasn't taking calls from him, even though she always did.

Lie.

Hannah blinked, looking at him uncertainly − she grunted quietly, correcting her bag which had started to slip off her shoulder.

"− well − actually, we're all worried about her − she hasn't come to class for a few days, she's not answering our calls −" She said hesitantly, and he felt the cold spread through his chest, his heart started pounding like crazy.

He thought that if she did something to herself because of him, he would gouge out his healthy eye himself and throw himself into the lake.

An empty shell.

He still had his keys to their flat and went there in the evening, not wanting to arouse the suspicions of the neighbours. He swallowed loudly and pressed on the door handle, stepping slowly inside, seeing only darkness.

He felt relieved at the thought of not smelling musty and decaying.

He turned on the light and then he saw her, lying on their bed in his black shirt − she raised herself to sit up, looking at him in shock, her lips slightly parted.

She was alive.

He stared at her in disbelief, his throat squeezed when he realised he could smell her again − her trembling hands reached for the buttons of his shirt and began to unbutton it slowly.

He felt what he saw in his trousers, his manhood pulsed so painfully hard that a shudder went through him.

She parted her lips and whispered just one sentence before he threw himself on top of her and began to fuck her.

"I knew you'd come."

_____

Aemond Taglist:

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[bratbby333]

even if it hurts

fushiguro megumi x fem!reader ‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ angst, kinda toxic, college au, 21+ warnings: language, alcohol consumption summary: unrequited love word count: 3.2k

“I just don’t understand what she sees in that guy,” Megumi thinks to himself. He watches you as you exit the library from his vantage point, seated by the window. You walk toward your boyfriend, who’s leaning up against his car. Megumi’s chest gets tighter the longer he watches you, wincing as your boyfriend pulls you in close, your lips connecting with his for way longer than Megumi can handle. 

“It should be me,” he sighs within, eventually turning away from the window, bringing his attention back to Yuuji and Kugisaki, the two of them oblivious to his mental anguish. But, of course they are, and so are you, his unchanging, neutral facial expression never giving away his true, tortured feelings. 

Then again, Megumi doesn’t know what you’d see in him, either. He knows everything about you; the good, the bad and the ugly, caring deeply for your well-being and happiness, but that doesn’t outweigh the negatives that come along with him. His lack of empathy, his overly analytical nature, his disdain for small talk, the permanent frown on his face. He hopes one day you take a chance after all these years and accept him in the same way he already accepts you; flawed, but so beautiful. 

“Aren’t they just so cute together,” Kugisaki gushes out, before looking to her friends for input. Yuuji smiles wide, nodding in agreement.

“They seem very happy together. I’m glad she’s finally found someone.” Yuuji adds, before looking back at his notes. Megumi glances outside again, observing that you’re now seated in the passenger seat. He stays quiet, which isn’t unusual for him. Neither of his friends bat an eye at his lack of commentary, chalking it up to Megumi being typical Megumi. He wishes he could rejoice on your behalf, to congratulate you on your new found romance without stifling a gag. Even if he could fake his way through it, his words would be coated in jealousy. Instead, he continues to retreat within. You’d see right through his bleak attempts to be supportive, anyway. So he packs his feelings up in a box, stowing them away on a forgotten shelf deep in the darkest corners of his mind.

Within his tormented psyche, Megumi is anything but his normal self. Looking down at his textbook again, he can’t comprehend a single thing in front of him. He stares longingly into the book, willing himself to read, but his mind can’t help but always find its way back to you. One of his best friends. Your cheery disposition contradicts his cold, closed-off demeanor. The way your perfume lingers on his shirt after a friendly hug, how your body feels pressing against his. The way your lips curl before you laugh, how you wrinkle your nose after someone tells a joke, or the soft smiles you always send his way. How your eyes gleam with excitement when you see him (well, not just him, but your friends, collectively). You’re everything he isn’t, and everything he wishes he was. You make his normally frigid skin run warm, feverish even.

He knows it will never be you and him. Like the sun and moon; coexisting, but never coming together, a constant, cruel cycle. You two meet briefly in the same sky, before you disappear under the horizon and his world goes dark. That part doesn’t hurt nearly as much as what the actual outcome is: You will always be in his life, just out of reach; so close yet so infuriatingly far. He will always be an outsider looking in; a friend. It’s a tortuous realization. But the moon cannot glow without the sun. So he wills himself to stay put. To watch you fall in and out of love, over and over again; listening to you rave or rant about your relationship, he inevitably being a voice of reason for you when you need advice, even if it burns his throat when his supportive words leave his mouth; and it will never be him. And he accepts that as the painful reality he’s condemned to live in. Purgatory. It would hurt much less if he wasn’t as close to you; if you were just a friend of a friend, or even strangers; an unknown face, a passing daydream. Someone easier to lose. 

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

You press your hands against the metal bar of the library doors, sighing as you push against them. The setting sun dances across your hair, the warmth kissing your skin. You smile softly at your boyfriend, who always insists on picking you up after class. He pulls you into him, his lips meeting yours. Pulling away, you smile up at him before taking a step back, allowing him to open up the passenger side door for you. You turn your head back toward the library before getting in, looking through the window at the table you were just sitting at with your three best friends. Your eyes linger on Megumi, whose attention is back on his textbook. 

“I wish he was you, Meg.” You think to yourself, looking at the ground before sitting in the passenger seat. You’re quiet on the drive back to your boyfriend's apartment, thoughts utterly consumed by Megumi. But you know it will never be him. You’re too talkative, too excitable. Too different from him. With the two of you being such close friends, by the time you realized how your heart ached for him, it was too late. You don’t want to ruin what you have. You can’t confess. That would make the dynamic shift towards awkwardness and tension, possibly even destroying the friendships you cherish so deeply. So you stay quiet. You date other people in hopes that someone can replace him. But your attempts are all in vain. No one can replace Megumi. He knows everything about you, appreciates you for everything you are and accepts you for everything you’re not. But you know the deeper connection that you desire will never be reciprocated. He does all these things for me because we’re best friends, you rationalize.

You reconcile with the silver lining of it all; enjoying the time you’re able to spend with him, relishing in the jokes between you two, cherishing the glances you steal when you know he's not paying attention. You ignore the gnawing deep within you, the hunger for more. You cling to the way his smooth voice delivers eloquently thought out sentences to your yearning ears, the way your heart leaps when his deep blue eyes gaze attentively into yours. At least you can hold on to the notion that he will always be in your life, at the very least, as a friend.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

You can’t settle for meaningless connections. You’ve decided that you’ll take Megumi however you can get him, the cards dealt to you leaning in favor of just being friends. And that’s okay. You’ll hold on to the hope that one day he’ll take the risk. Such a selfish desire, you acknowledge that. You refuse to fight these feelings any longer, the stark realization that it will never not be him coming to fruition on that fateful car ride, which is why you’re at your boyfriend’s house, sitting across from him, attempting to explain that it isn’t him, it’s you.

“I’m sorry,” you start. You can’t seem to find the right words that will soften the blow. Your mind is an endless sea of thoughts, a similar deep blue that you find in Megumi's eyes. Oh, his eyes. One thing at a time. 

“You did everything right, I promise. I just think we’re looking for different things.” You don’t have much more to say, tuning out your now ex boyfriend’s pleas and questions as you stand and walk towards the door, not uttering another word. Your movements shift to being calculated and emotionless; maybe you are more like Megumi than you thought. You take a deep breath once outside, pulling your phone out and dialing Kugisaki. 

“Hey, what’s up? Aren’t you supposed to be with your boyfriend?” she asks. She can hear the whizzing of cars in the background of the phone call. You walk along a busy freeway with no destination in mind. But your body knows where it wants to be; with Megumi. Your heart drives you with such conviction that you’re nearly running now.

“I was, yeah, I just broke up with him. Can we go out for drinks? Ask Yuu and Meg, too.” You reply. Nobara pauses, waiting for more information before realizing you weren’t interested in sharing. Your tone was emotionless and commandeering; very out of character for you. She decides not to pry. After a moment of silence, you hear the soft murmur of voices echo through the speaker of your phone, before she returns to the call, the plan being set to meet at a local bar just outside the campus at 6pm. 

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

The study session is interrupted by an incoming call to Nobara’s phone. Megumi’s heart soars at the sight of your name on the screen. Kugisaki smiles before answering, but her twinkling demeanor drops almost immediately. He hears her ask a couple questions, but he can’t comprehend what was said over the loud roar of blood rushing through his ears. He doesn’t understand how you elicit such unusual responses from him. These feelings are getting harder and harder for him to fight. He snaps back to reality when Kugisaki relays that you want to grab drinks tonight. He’d do anything and go anywhere for you, jumping on the chance to be around you. Keep your composure, they can’t know. Megumi stoically agrees to the plans, as does Yuuji. The call ends a moment later.

“I did not see that coming,” Kugisaki sighs, placing her phone back down on the table. Megumi looks to his friend, anxiously anticipating her debrief of the conversation she just had. The possibility that you were hurt made Megumi want to jump out of his skin, to console you in a deeper, more intimate way that friends probably shouldn’t do. Kugisaki’s vagueness of the whole situation was making his nerves run cold. 

“It’s not unusual for her to want to grab some drinks…did something happen?” Yuuji asks, concern painted across his normally cheerful face. Kugisaki just glances between the two boys, her brow furrowed. Megumi’s blood is ice in his veins when Nobara finally tells them. He tunes out his friends, his mind inundating with possibilities, sending a silent prayer to the heavens that you’ll soon take a chance on him. He kicks himself for thinking that way, guilt soon replacing his desperation. How dare he attempt to take advantage of your pain for his own pleasure. What kind of man has he become? 

You want nothing more than to run into Megumi’s arms, to hold his face in your hands. You can’t help but feel sinful for what you’ve done. But being with someone when you crave someone else’s touch goes against everything you believe. Inauthenticity. It’s causing you more harm than good. You can’t stand it anymore. 

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

“Are you okay? I’m so sorry it didn’t work out…just earlier today we were talking about how happy you two seemed together. Can’t help but think we jinxed it,” Yuuji apologizes as he crashes into you, his arms constricting you tightly. Such a sweet boy. He holds you there for a moment, rocking you back and forth, before breaking away, Kugisaki taking his place. 

“His loss, you’ll forget about him soon enough. Let’s get drunk. Maybe you’ll find someone new while we’re here!” Nobara smirks. Megumi can’t help but cringe at that suggestion, the thought of seeing you engaged with yet another man, a man that isn’t him, shoots a lead bullet through his chest. He reaches his boiling point. He can’t patch up his wounds anymore. 

Megumi approaches you last, placing a firm hand on your shoulder, patting gently and saying nothing. Pretty on brand for Megumi’s way of showing comfort, but there’s something different behind his eyes; a new, unknown feeling that you can sense while looking up at him. You fight every urge in your body telling you to ask about it, to pry deeper into his mind, knowing he wouldn’t tell you, anyway. You desperately want to lean into his touch, electricity shooting through your body. You smile gently at his unreadable expression before the four of you head inside. 

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

Seated at a table away from the bar, the four of you talk about the upcoming exams. You set plans for your next study session. Yuuji invites the group to a movie premier on Saturday night. Everyone reluctantly agrees, even though the premise of the film sounds dreadful. As the night goes on, the drinks keep coming, and you and your friends are properly buzzed, giggling and joking around. Everyone except Megumi, only offering the occasional smile and quiet chuckle. Everytime he laughs, your heart beats faster. Unbeknownst to the group, he’s clenching his fists and gritting his teeth, fighting every urge to spill his deepest, darkest secret. 

Your eyes trace lines along his face, taking in every curve and angle of his disposition. Something is bothering him. Your stare is burning holes into his side profile, and he shifts his weight in search of relief from your intensity. The sun and her rays. You’re snapped out of your trance as Yuuji stands from the table, pointing his finger in Nobara’s direction. 

“Nobara Kugisaki, I challenge you to a Skee-Ball tournament!” he shouts. The abruptness of his actions shocks the three of you. You glance at Kugisaki, who’s smirking at Yuuji. 

“You are so on.”

The two abandon the table, trash talking one another on their way to the machine, leaving you and Megumi alone. You feel elated at the time you get to spend one on one with him. He feels differently.

“It was for the best, he seemed like an ass anyway,” Megumi huffs out, avoiding your gaze as he takes another sip of his drink. His comment catches you off guard, but it leaps from his mouth before he can give it a second thought, as if he had been waiting the entire night to say that to you, only feeling confident enough to do so with the liquor in his system and the listening ears now on the opposite end of the bar. 

“Well, no, he was perfectly nice, Meg,” you retort, confusion painted across your face. This is so unlike Megumi, the man of few words.

“So why dump him if he was so nice? There must be a reason,” he challenges. Megumi has moved from denial, to bargaining, to anger in the span of a day. He can’t help but lash out. He’s bursting at the seams. Being near you is no longer enough, and his ego is his last line of defense before you fully break his heart without even meaning to. The constant torment he’s felt since meeting you has slowly been chipping away at him. All he knows is that he’s had enough. If you leave, if he pushes hard enough, he won’t hurt anymore. He will no longer have a constant reminder of what could be. He will finally reach acceptance. 

The hostility of his words bruise you, anger plastered across his face. Why is he upset with me? I did this for him, not that he’d ever know that. You brush off the sting from his comment. You’re just happy to hear him speak. You’d do anything to listen to him express whatever thought popped in his head, hanging on every word that leaves his lips, even if they send shards of glass into your heart. It aches so beautifully. You can’t muster up the courage to tell him that he’s the reason it didn’t work out. You’re exhausted from trying to force connections with other people in hopes that they could replace him, the constant back and forth leaving your life in ruins. You cut ties with perfectly good people because you know they will never be Megumi. So you cling to anything you can get from him, even if it destroys you.

“I…I don’t know, Meg. I think I’m searching for something else,” you reply quietly, your response insinuating much more than you intended. Your words float through the air so inaudibly that they are nearly drowned out by the music pouring out of the bar’s speakers. But Megumi hears you. He always does. His head snaps to face you, meeting your gaze. He feels his blood pressure spike. Is she referring to me? No…that can’t be what she means. She’s just feeling vulnerable right now. He maintains eye contact with you, looking past your eyes and searching deep within your soul, hoping something in there will guide him towards the answers he so hopelessly needs.

Your breath catches in your throat. Why is he looking at me like that? Did I make it too obvious? Did I ruin everything? Megumi’s eyes dart around your face, searching for something, anything, that would alleviate his pain. It doesn’t matter what you meant by that statement. He can’t stand this anymore, teetering on the edge of insanity. If I can’t have her, and I can’t stand keeping her around without torturing myself, then… fuck it. He decides to jump.

He grabs your face with both hands before crashing his lips into yours, a muffled yelp escaping you. Your eyes go wide, your body freezes. Time slows to an insufferable pace. You can’t comprehend a single thing, a part of you trying to convince yourself that this isn’t real; if it’s nothing more than a drunken kiss. But it’s real. It’s everything and more. You close your eyes, surrendering to this moment. You move your lips against his, desperate to savor him. He feels the exact way you imagined him to, the taste of him clouding your senses. You can’t get enough. The two of you fit together perfectly. You are utterly and completely consumed by him.

His heart races as he feels you reciprocate. His hands run up and down your body with urgency, trying to make up for years of wasted time. The loud bar fades to black as he pulls you deeper into him. All he can feel is you; you’re all that matters, that has mattered. Your hands meet his cheeks, moving to thread themselves in his hair at the nape of his neck. He groans into your mouth, his tongue battling against yours. You claw at one another hungrily. After years of starving, you are finally satiated. Every doubt that clouded your mind is cast to the wayside. All the pain and suffering has come to an end. The outcome that you both desired comes to fruition. 

“Fucking FINALLY!” You break away from one another, the sound of Kugisaki’s voice bringing you back to reality. She's standing before you two with her hands on her hips, head cocked to the side. Yuuji is positioned beside her, grinning from ear to ear. Megumi takes your face in his hands again, pulling you close.

“Fucking finally,” he whispers. 

author notes: if this seemed very unhinged and scatterbrained it's bc it most definitely was..and i tried to write this is in a specific way so that it bounced back and forth and contradicted one another and...u get it. im sure u do.

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[matty-bear]

Could you write a fluffy fic where nick is insecure because of the hate online and his boyfriend (the reader) comforts him?

I love your writing btw<33

Insecure [N.S]

type: request !

pairing: nick sturniolo x male!reader

warnings: SFW, fluff, angst, slightly suggestive ?? (these parts are towards the end) negative self image talk, mentions of hate, fat-shaming, and slurs (last two are not specified they’re just mentioned !)

summary: after coming over to visit nick, you immediately notice his off behavior. your boyfriend reassures you that nothing is wrong and that he’s fine but when he comes back crying after filming a car video with his brothers, the truth finally comes out 

notes: hope this fulfills your request ! i enjoyed writing this even tho it was quite upsetting :3 best believe that if i see someone being hateful towards nick i wont hesitate to clap back 🔥 some people need to grow up and stop hiding behind screens when they post hateful shit . they’re just pussies 😒

WC: 4675

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚　 ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊ ＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚　 ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊ ＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚　 ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊ ＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚　 ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊ ＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚

One thing you must know about Nick is that he is very expressive and is not scared of being himself. You could easily be able to tell how he was doing emotionally just by his facial expressions and body language. (This also meant that he was horrible at hiding things from you. This includes feelings and surprises and such) 

Which is why when you suddenly caught onto his off and quiet demeanor the day you came over to his place to hang out, you immediately knew something was wrong. 

 ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

It’s currently Thursday afternoon and you were gathering your belongings to head over to Nick’s. You knew that he and his brothers would be filming later today so you decided to head over to theirs as soon as possible. 

You also heavily missed your boyfriend even though you saw him two days ago. 

After slipping your headphones around your neck and making sure you have your phone in your possession, you grab your car keys and head outside. The sun immediately began to shine in your face the moment you stepped foot outside and you couldn’t help but squint as a result. After making sure your front door is locked, you walk to your car and get in the driver's seat. A soft huff escapes your lips as you start the car and adjust the AC with your right hand. When everything's to your liking, you finally start your short venture to the Sturniolo household. 

It only took 15 minutes until you were pulling up in the all too familiar driveway holding a black minivan. You can’t help the smile growing on your face as you hurriedly turn the car off and exit your vehicle. As you walk up to the front door, you take your phone out of your pocket to text Nick that you’re here. However, before you get the chance to open y’all’s chats, the door opens. 

You quickly lift your head, your eyes slightly wide, before you relax at the sight of Matt greeting you with a small smile. “Hey.” The brunette greets, stepping aside to let you in. 

“How’d you know I was here?” You ask as you step inside the house, the faint scent of fast food immediately filling your senses. 

“Heard your car pull up.” You hum faintly and nod your head at the male before the two of you start walking up the steps. “I smell food. What did y'all order?” 

“Chris was craving a ‘Mcdonalds' breakfast’ so I ordered some.” You can’t help but chuckle at the sight of Matt doing air quotations. “We have some leftovers so if you're hungry you can help yourself to whatever’s left.” 

“How much did you guys order if there’s leftovers?” An airy chuckle escapes your lips as you follow Matt to the kitchen, a single eyebrow raising as you glance at the two McDonald’s bags on the table. 

“Not much, just our regular. Nick hasn’t eaten yet so that’s probably why we have leftovers.” 

You quickly whip your head around to send Matt a worried expression as he excuses himself to go to the fridge. “Nick hasn’t eaten yet?” You ask as you open one of the bags. 

“Nope,” Matt replies with a soft huff. “He’s been in his room since this morning.” 

You hum softly as you close the bag you’re looking into. “This is Nick’s right?” When Matt looks over in your direction, you gesture to the bag in front of you. 

“Yup, that’s his.” 

“Alright, ima head up to his room and see if he’s hungry.” 

“Word. We’re going to film earlier than usual today so make sure he’s ready by five thirty.” 

“Will do.” Matt sends you a small smile before he grabs a root beer from the fridge and walks towards his bedroom. As the brunette enters his room, you make your way upstairs to go to Nick’s. The moment you arrive at your boyfriend’s door, your eyebrows furrow together when you don’t hear a single thing coming inside. Usually the male would be playing music out loud or watching a show but all you heard was silence. 

You hesitantly rest your hand on the doorknob and open the door with a soft creek, your features immediately getting illuminated by the LED lights in the room. 

“Nick?” You call as you step inside the room. You gently shut the door behind you as your eyes scan the room in search of your boyfriend. 

Where the hell is Nick?

“Nick~” You call again, dragging out his name as you set the bag in your hand down on the desk nearby. When you glance over at the closed bathroom door, you let out a sigh of relief when you see light creeping out from underneath the door. You quickly make your way over to the room and gently knock on the wood. “Nick? Are you in here?” 

The sudden sound of something clattering to the floor startles you and you instinctively take a step back. 

“Yeah, I- Hold on.” You hear Nick say, his voice muffled due to the shut door. More clattering runs through your ears before the faint sound of footsteps approaches the door. You quickly lift your head when the door opens and you can’t help the smile creeping onto your lips when you see Nick peek his head out from behind the door. 

“Hi, baby.” You greet softly. 

“Hi.” Nick breathes. Once the male fully opens the door, you quickly walk up to him and cup his face. You gently caress your thumbs over the redhead’s soft skin and forming stubble on his chin, your eyes momentarily shifting up to his blue irises.

“Have you eaten yet?” You ask, knowing the answer already as you land a quick peck on your boyfriend’s lips. At the redhead’s silence, you send the male a worried look and gently grab his chin with your thumb and pointer finger to make him look up at you. “Baby?” 

“I’m not hungry right now,” Nick mumbles, avoiding eye contact as he looks down at the hem of the sweater hanging on your shoulders. 

“You feeling sick or anything? It’s not like you to skip a meal.” As you set your hand on your boyfriend’s forehead to check his temperature, the boy quickly shakes his head. 

“No, I feel fine.” Nick sends you a small smile as you lower your hand. 

“Alright… Well, I brought you your food from the kitchen so if you’re hungry, it’ll be on your desk.” 

Nick hums softly and slowly peels out of your hold to walk to his bed. You can’t help but furrow your eyebrows at the male’s action and turn on your heels to watch the redhead climb into bed and bring his covers up to his shoulders. 

“Baby, what’s wrong?” You ask gently as you make your way over to Nick and take a seat on the mattress. Your boyfriend doesn’t respond and instead moves up to rest his head in your lap. He tilts his head a little so he can dig his face into your thigh, a heavy sigh escaping him as his shoulders drop. A frown makes its way into your lips as you gaze down at Nick. 

Something is definitely wrong but you know prying would get you nowhere. 

“Sweetheart, you wanna get up real quick so I can move into a more comfortable position?” Nick hums faintly and sits up to allow you to climb into bed. After comfortably situating yourself against the headboard, Nick immediately lays in your lap again. Your hand instinctively goes into the male’s red locks, your fingers carefully detangling some strands as they card through his hair. A content hum can be heard from the male in your lap as you quietly continue your actions.

“I missed you.’ Nick mumbles against your clothed thigh.

“I missed you too.” You say softly, a smile making its way onto your lips. 

“Can you stay with me tonight?” 

“Tonight?”

“Mh-hmm.”

“Yeah, of course. I’ll just have to go back to my place to get a change of clothes.” Nick quickly lifts his head the moment the statement leaves your lips. You peer down at the boy and raise an eyebrow at him when he narrows his eyes at you. “What? Did I say something wrong?”

“Don't act like you can't sleep in my clothes.” You chuckle softly as Nick lies back down. He takes a moment to dig his face in your thigh and comfortable before he continues, “I already put aside some stuff for you in the closet.”

“Did you now?”

Nick nods his head. “Your favorite hoodie is part of the pile. I seriously can't wrap my head around the fact that you can sleep in a hoodie without overheating.”

“I definitely overheat but I just like how your clothes smell.” 

“You're fucking weird for that.” Nick lets out a surprised laugh when you jab your hand into his side. You watch with narrowed eyes as the redhead rolls off your lap and sits up, the blanket that was once at his shoulders falling to his lap. “Don’t do that!”

“Don't call me weird.” 

“Well, you kinda are-” Nick gets cut off by you reaching over and grabbing his shoulders. The male lets out a small surprised yell as you force him down onto his back, his eyes widening when you hover over him. Before your boyfriend gets the chance to say anything, an anxious spew of giggles bubbles up his throat when you latch onto his sides. ‘Okay, OKAY! I take it back! Get off!”

“Are you just taking back what you said because I’m threatening you?”

“Well obviously… Now get your paws off me.”

A dramatic gasp escapes your lips as you gaze down at Nick. “PAWS?? Alright, you know what...”

“Wait, WAIT!’ Nick quickly grabs onto your hands and pries them off his body before you get the chance to do anything. “I’m messing with you!”

You hum lowly and narrow your eyes at the redhead. “Let go.” You state flatly.

“Promise not to touch me!” 

“I won’t touch you.” 

“Promise it!” 

You sigh and hang your head low, a smile creeping onto your lips. “Fine.” You huff. “I promise I won’t touch you.” 

“Okay…” Nick says slowly. He hesitantly releases his strong grip on your wrists and the moment you’re free, you plop down on top of him. Nick lets out a faint grunt the moment you do so and immediately wraps his arms around you. “God you're heavy.” You heavily sigh and dig your hand into Nick’s side the second that statement escapes his lips, your action immediately drawing panicked giggles from the male. 

“OKAY, OKAY!” The redhead exclaims through giggles. Nick begins to squirm underneath you and quickly grabs onto your shoulders. “You fucking liar knock it off!” Nick’s giggles ring through your ears as he curls his body around your hand, both his hands continuously shoving your shoulders to get you up and off him. You continue your actions for a few more seconds before you stop and wrap both your arms behind the redhead’s back. A large smile spreads across your lips as Nick heavily pants and throws an arm over his face, a few giggles still escaping his lips. 

“That’s low,” Nick mumbles. 

“You were being an ass.” You say with a shrug as you slip an arm out from underneath the male to fiddle with one of the strings of his hoodie. “You should be thanking me to be honest.” 

“THANKING YOU?!” You clamp your hand over Nick’s mouth at his loud exclamation. 

“No need to yell, I'm right here.” You scold softly. 

“Sorry,” Nick mumbles, his speech muffled due to your hand still being over his mouth. Once you remove your hand, the redhead huffs and frowns. “Again, thanking you?” 

“Yes, thanking me.” As you rest your chin on Nick’s chest, the latter stares down at you with a confused expression. “You were clearly upset when I came in.”

“Oh.” 

You lift your head slightly to lock eyes with Nick. “Is something wrong? You can tell me, you know. It’s not like I’ll judge.” You watch as Nick forces his lips into a straight line and averts his gaze to anywhere but you. After watching the male looking around the room aimlessly, you sigh softly and rest your head back down on his chest. “You don't have to tell me.” You say, your speech muffled due to the thick fabric of the hoodie covering Nick's body. 

“Sorry,” Nick mumbles, his hand gently resting on the top of your head. 

“Don’t apologize, there’s no need to. You can tell me whenever you’re ready.” You momentarily lift your head to land a quick peck on Nick’s lips before you return to lying on his chest. “By the way.” You start, earning a small hum from Nick. “Matt said to be ready by five thirty so you guys can film.” 

“Alright,” Nick says softly as he leans back against the pillow he’s lying on. “Can we nap real quick? You know, before I have to go?” 

“I was hoping you’d say that your warmth is making me tired.” You reply, your words slurring together as your eyes drift shut. You don’t even hear Nick’s response and only manage to feel his hand rubbing circles on your back before you drift off to sleep. 

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

LoveGame by Lady Gaga plays in your headphones as you make your way to the living room, a small pack of fruit snacks in your left hand and a can of coke in the other. You find yourself bopping your head along to the song, your lips mouthing the lyrics, as you seat yourself down on the sofa. 

The triplets have been out for about an hour and a half to film their new car video. You quickly became bored out of your mind being alone in the empty and silent house and you had to figure out a way to entertain yourself as you waited for the boys to come back. 

And that’s exactly what you’re doing right now. 

You shift your body a little so you're comfortably lying on your back before you rip open the fruit snacks. As you pop a few in your mouth, you fail to hear the front door opening, the loud music playing in your ears being the culprit. 

You also failed to see the triplets walk into the living room. 

That was until you felt a tap on your knee. You quickly sit up at the small touch and rip the headphones off your head, the music still somewhat audible as you rest them around your neck. You immediately make eye contact with Chris who looks down at you with a worried expression. 

“What’s wrong? Is everything alright?” You ask, an uneasy feeling settling in your stomach as you lock eyes with the male in front of you. 

Chris raises a hand to rub the back of his nape, his lips forming into a straight line before he replies, “Nick’s crying.” 

You feel your heart drop the moment the sentence escapes the brunette's mouth and you find yourself urgently standing up, the pack of fruit snacks and can of soda being long forgotten on the floor and couch cushion. 

“Where is he?” 

“Matt’s room.” You gently nod your head and make a break for the middle triplet’s bedroom, which is thankfully a few steps away. You knock on the door a few times to alert the people inside of your arrival before you let yourself inside. The moment you step foot inside, your eyes land on your boyfriend sitting on the edge of the bed and furiously rubbing his eyes. Matt is sitting on the left side of the male and pulls Nick into his chest, one of his hands immediately going to rub comforting circles on his back. 

You practically run over to the two boys and crouch down in front of Nick, a worried expression painting your face when you hear the male faintly sobbing. You momentarily shift your gaze from your boyfriend to Matt, who’s sharing the same worried and concerned look on his face before you turn back to Nick. You slowly set a hand on the latter’s knee and go to pull away when the male flinches at the sudden touch. 

“Baby?” You call softly, your thumb gently caressing Nick’s clothed kneecap. The redhead turns his head slightly and makes a small gap in between his fingers to look at you. “Can you move your hands, please? I wanna see your face, sweetheart.” 

Nick furiously shakes his head and goes back to tucking his head against Matt’s chest. You sigh faintly and lean forward to rest your chin on your boyfriend’s thigh. As you gaze up at the boy, you catch the redhead looking down at you, a larger gap being made between his pointer and middle finger. You manage to make out Nick’s irritated red eyes before he sits up and attempts to cover his whole face with one hand, the other reaching for yours to firmly hold. 

“Can you come up here, please?” Nick asks, his voice fragile and quiet as he squeezes your hand a few times. 

“Yes, of course.” You reply and quickly get up from your position. As you go to sit next to Nick, you make eye contact with Matt who’s gazing up at you. 

“Will you two be okay if I leave?” The male mouths. The moment you nod your head and ruffle Matt’s hair a little, the brunette slowly gets up from his spot on the bed and quietly exits the room. After ensuring the male shuts the door behind him, you take a seat next to Nick. The moment your boyfriend feels the mattress dip next to him, he immediately crashes into you, his face burrowing into your clothed chest. You slip your hand out of Nick’s hold to envelop the male in a tight embrace, your heart shattering into a million small pieces when you feel your shirt dampening. 

Nick slithers his arms around your torso, his nails digging into your back as he silently cries against you. You allow the male to get all his feelings out as you rub comforting circles on his back with one hand and card your fingers through his hair with the other. It took a few more minutes of comfort for Nick’s cries to subside and soft sniffles to emit from him. You wait for your boyfriend to remove himself from your chest and hesitantly look up at you before you look at him. 

“Oh, baby…” You mumble, your heart aching as you take in Nick’s puffy, red eyes and tear-stained cheeks. You cup the side of the redhead's face with one hand and keep the other on his back before you begin to gently caress the male’s damp cheek. “Are you comfortable with telling me what happened?” 

“Mh-hmm.” Nick hums, his eyes shutting as he fully leans into your palm. The male enjoys your delicate touch for a moment longer before he speaks up. “I saw some comments yesterday and they stuck to me. I saw more when we were filming today too. I’m usually able to handle hate comments because they’re fucking ridiculous and stupid but these hurt.”

“What were they saying if you mind me asking?” 

“Most were fat-shaming me and others were calling me slurs. I haven’t been called a slur in a while so I’m guessing that’s why it stuck. But you know how self-conscious and insecure I am about my body so seeing people nitpick at that stuff just…” Nick cuts himself off as more tears well up in his eyes. You frown deeply and quickly wipe the warm liquid escaping the redhead’s eyes before they cascade down his face. “It just made me feel more bad about myself.” 

“Sweetheart, can you do something for me?” You ask softly. Nick gently nods his head and sniffles as he wipes his eyes with the back of his hand. “Can you lay down? On your back?” 

“Mh-hmm…” Nick hesitantly hums and moves back on the bed so he’s no longer on the edge before he lays on his back. After the male shuffles a bit to get comfortable, you crawl up and reach your arm over to rest it on the side of Nick’s shoulder. After situating yourself so you're hovering over your boyfriend, you bite back the smile threatening to form on your lips as you take in Nick’s shocked and flustered expression. “If you want to make out, I refuse to do it in Matt’s room.” 

“We’re not gonna make out, hun.” 

“Then what are you doing?” 

“Can you just trust me?” 

Nick puts his hands up defensively and rests them on both sides of his head. You shake your head slightly before you lean down and begin to land soft pecks on Nick’s forehead. You slowly make your way down the side of your boyfriend’s face and make a trail of light kisses across his jaw, stopping near his right ear. You feel Nick shift underneath you, both his arms lowering and coming up to latch onto your shoulders. You take a glance over at your boyfriend and smile smugly when you see him squeeze his eyes shut, his lips forced into a thin line. You focus back on what you're doing and land a few kisses on the shell of Nick’s ear, a stifled chuckle escaping you when the male squeals softly and forces his ear against his shoulder. 

“What are you doing?” Nick giggles, his nails digging into your biceps. 

“Stay still.” You state, completely ignoring the redhead’s question as you continue your trail of kisses down the side of his neck. Nick subconsciously tilts his head back to give you more access to his skin as you litter his entire neck with kisses for a few more seconds. You stay on a specific spot near the side of your boyfriend’s neck for a moment and take his skin in between your teeth. 

“Baby,” Nick says warningly, a faint whine escaping his lips as you nibble on his skin. 

“I’m moving, I'm moving.” You mumble against his skin. You stay true to your words and begin a trail of kisses down Nick’s clothed chest. You shift down to continue to kiss down the redhead’s torso and both of his sides. “You know…” You start, lifting your head to make sure your boyfriend hears your voice clearly. “I love every single part of your body. Every inch of it. I find you so fucking perfect.” You lower your head back down to Nick’s hips, your lips continuing to leave a trail of pecks down his leg. 

You grab one of the male’s knees and push it up to allow yourself to leave longer kisses around your boyfriend’s thigh. You feel Nick tense, followed by his breath hitching, when you inch up closer to his thigh. When you get a little close to his crotch, you switch over to his other leg and repeat the same process you did moments ago. Once you get to Nick’s knee, you decide to tease the male a little by nibbling on his kneecap. The redhead lets out a surprised shout and immediately erupts into giggles as he pulls his leg away from your reach. 

“Sorry, I had to.” You apologize with a giggle. 

“Of course you and you. You can’t let me breathe for five minutes.” Nick huffs, his arms crossing over his chest. 

“Oh, please.” You latch onto Nick’s thigh and drag him back to his original position before you crawl up so you’re face-to-face with him. You send your boyfriend a small smile before you dip your face into his neck and start another trail of kisses down his shoulder and left arm. When you get to his wrist, you quickly do the same with the other arm. Before you lift your head, you nibble the skin on Nick’s shoulder and smile into his skin when he whines and shoves your shoulder. You pull back with a small chuckle and capture Nick’s lips for a quick kiss. When you pull back, you cup the side of his face with one hand and keep the other on the side of his shoulder to keep yourself up. 

“Baby?” You call as you begin to gently caress your boyfriend's cheek with your thumb. 

“Yeah?” Nick replies as he blinks up at you, a stupid smile on his lips as he leans into your touch. 

“Those people are fucking douchebags for leaving those comments. All they’re trying to do is tear you down and see you all down in the dumps. You don’t want them to win this stupid game, right?” Nick furiously shakes his head. “I know it’s hard to ignore all of the hate comments but I can guarantee that not a single one of these people will have the balls to say this shit to your face. And if one of them does, I will happily rock their shit because they have no right to say all these things about you. I think you are perfect in every way possible. I love your eyes, your nose, your smile, God how much I adore your smile, your tattoos, your hair, your arms which are getting a little buff if I may add.” 

When you remove your hand from Nick’s face to squeeze his bicep, the male smiles widely and lightly hits your arm. “I know I don’t see your bare body much since you like to have something covering your torso at all times but I am sure that you look fucking perfect.” You move your hand down and land a few pokes on Nick’s stomach. The sound of him laughing softly brings a smile to your lips and you quickly halt your actions when the male grabs your wrists. “Your laugh is perfect as well. It’s so cute and contagious.” 

“Alright…” Nick says, his voice trailing off as he looks to the side. 

“Do you not think so?” You ask, a single eyebrow-raising. Nick hesitantly shakes his head and looks at you. “Well, I think it’s perfect and I'm not taking a no for an answer.”  Nick sighs, knowing he can’t say anything that’ll change your mind and release you from his hold. When your wrists are free from his grasp, you lay down on top of the male and wrap an arm underneath him. “Also, one more thing.” 

“What is it?” Nick lifts his head to lock eyes with you. 

“I’m gonna post something on my story later to shut these fuckers up.” 

“y/n…” 

“You can’t change my mind.” You send Nick a large smile before you land a quick peck on his lips. After nibbling on his bottom lip, you pull back and rest your chin on his chest, and gaze into his eyes. Seeing that you’re staring intently at him, Nick grows flustered and covers his face with one hand and uses the other to softly push your face away. 

“Stop staring,” Nick mumbles. 

“I can’t help it, you're so pretty.” You can’t help but smile widely when Nick giggles and looks away. You gently pry the male’s hands away from his face and cup his face, the sight of his flustered face causing your smile to widen even more. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” 

“Mmm… Not as much as I do, I'm afraid.” 

“Really? You wanna bet on it?”

“Absolutely.” Nick hums softly and grabs the base of your neck to pull you close and crash his lips onto yours. You let out a small noise of surprise at the male’s sudden action however you quickly melt into the kiss. Before you allow yourself to get too absorbed in the kiss, you pull back. 

“Is that watermelon?” 

“Yeah.” 

“It tastes fucking amazing.” The second that sentence escapes your lips, you quickly plant your lips back on Nick’s to resume the small, yet somewhat heated make-out session. 

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