#hope you're still feeling like continuing this thread

[lured-into-wonderland]

Continued from [x] with @blood--king

“It’s…it’s a pleasure to meet you Lady Lilith…” – Nunnally was overwhelmed; both by her supposed guide’s attire but – perhaps even more – by her frivolous way of being – “I…I was expecting to meet Duke Nost…” – Nunnally was not sure why she actually stated that. It was probably known to Lilith. It must have been him, Duke Nost, who sent Lilith to guide her – “And t-thank you…” – Nunnally had never considered herself very pretty, but it was nice to know others thought so…

“He, I mean Duke Nost, promised to tell me all about my father’s youth…” – she complained about not meeting whom she had expected (and hoped) to encounter, but the woman’s cheerful mood caused Nunnally to quickly forget about her initial disappointed – “So, you owe a store! Yes, please I would love to see the dresses and the jewelry.” – she knew she was being vain, but it wouldn’t hurt to indulge oneself in luxury from time to time, right? – “I would love to get some fashionable dresses from here…My dad…had encouraged me to do so…Although I am not used to dressed like yours.” – saying that a faint pink crept on her cheeks as Nunnally pointed out at her and at Lilith – “But…but I might be willing to try… I mean in the shop not for anyone else to see…” – now she was red from embarrassment. Her cheeks, her neck, even hear ears.

“Do you know my father? Ivan…” – she asked out of the blue; it seemed everyone knew him here.

[satori-runa]

—In fates eyes

Summary: You're the victim of a weird red string that won't let loose of your finger. And you don't know that your stalker is wrapped at the other end, already on the chase.

Tags: Soulmate AU, slight stalking

Words: 0,5

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

Ever since you landed in this strange place, you couldn't rid yourself of the pesky scarlet string tied around your pinkie.

It clung stubbornly, snug but not tight enough to cut off your circulation. You’d tried everything—cutting it, biting it—but whenever you attempted to sever it, the string seemed to turn to steel, defying your efforts and leaving you frustrated. It stretched on through the strange landscape like a guiding line, silently inviting you to follow it. Whether you chose to do so was up to you.

What you didn’t know was that someone else was on the other end of the string, far away in another room. Mr. Scarletella had grown quite fond of the little red thread wrapped around his own pinkie. He understood what it meant—it tethered him to you, his beloved. With eager determination, he followed the string’s pull, feeling it occasionally go taut or slack, each shift only deepening his resolve. To him, the string wasn’t a nuisance; it was a blessing.

In your desperation, there was even a moment when you tried to sacrifice your finger to Mr. Gap, thinking it would free you. But to your astonishment, the string merely shifted to another finger, as if mocking your attempt. That was when you realized: you were stuck with it. Perhaps it was time to accept that fact.

Unbeknownst to you, Scarletella was closing in, watching from afar. He wondered if you were following the string as well, and hoped your curiosity would lead you to him. Eager to nudge you along, he tugged on the thread, leaving subtle hints in his wake. Yet you continued to ignore its presence, pretending it wasn’t there.

Scarletella’s patience, while immense, was not without its limits. The string was a bond he cherished, but the lack of response from your end was beginning to gnaw at his resolve. Each time he tugged, hoping for even the smallest acknowledgment—a pause, a turn of your head—he was met with silence. It stung more than he’d care to admit. Still, he pressed on, following the crimson line like a lifeline, his anticipation tempered by a growing desperation.

Meanwhile, you trudged forward through the unfamiliar terrain, the string tugging ever so gently at your finger, a persistent reminder of something—or someone—waiting at the other end. Yet, your wariness of this unexplainable connection kept you from fully committing to its path. What if it led to something dangerous? Or worse, something you weren’t prepared to face?

The chase came to an abrupt end when he suddenly appeared behind you, his eerie smile stretching wider as his excitement overtook him. Before you could react, you found yourself pulled into his arms, a crimson umbrella unfolding above to shield you both, casting everything around you in its scarlet glow.

Truth be told, he never needed the string. It was merely a symbol, a connection that fate had woven between you. But he was content—no, happy—that destiny had decided you were meant for each other. The string was just a reminder that, in the end, he had always been right where he needed to be.

[suugarbabe]

curls || mattheo riddle

summary: you couldn't help yourself, you just had to fix them. it's not like he seemed to mind your fingers in his hair anyway.

an: another yap fic courtesy of me and @musingsofahufflepuff ; you're welcome. had to include the pic because if you have brown curly hair i'm in love with you.

warnings: none; just fluffy goofiness.

Staring wasn’t usually an issue for you. Typically you could take your glances here and there and still focus on what you needed to do. But today, you just couldn’t turn away.

Mattheo wasn't your boyfriend. He wasn't even really your friend...you didn't think at least. You weren't in his little group of pals. But he also didn't ignore you like he did most people.

People often thought it was strange how nice he was to you. Not that he ever really sought you out or anything, but if your paths crossed he would say hello to you, would smile at you even.

You knew he was attractive, and your friends were convinced that he thought you were too. Of course you brushed those off. However if he was your boyfriend your current irritation could be fixed without question.

Mattheo's hair looked flat as hell.

The top of his head looked like he'd been wearing an American baseball cap for about a week straight. His hair seemingly flat around his skull and his curls twisting at the ends.

It really was a shame. If he would just fluff his roots his entire hair would come back to life, you were sure of it. But you couldn't just jump the desk in front of you to get to him, rifle your own fingers through his scalp and revive his ringlets.

"Alright everyone! Partner up, partner up!" Slughorn waved his hands in the air, dismissing the class to form pairs for brewing Draught of the Living Death.

Immediately you rounded your table, lightly grabbing his elbow. Mattheo turned towards you at your touch, a grin forming on his lips. "Partners?" You asked, hoping your look didn't appear to pleading.

"Sure thing, babe," Mattheo responded without hesitation, pulling the stool next to him out for you before grabbing your books from your previous table.

Throughout the potion preparation you kept stealing glances at him. Er, well, his hair. You did need to brew the potion, but you'd be damned if you left this lesson without correcting his curls.

"Have I got something on my face?" Mattheo jested. You laughed lightly, shaking your head before picking up the last of the ingredients to toss them in the cauldron.

Mattheo began to sir, the color of the potion changing correctly with what you both were doing. And you were staring again. You knew it. You knew he could feel it because he was grinning once more.

"Can I just.." you pointed somewhat shyly at his head. Mattheo cocked his head slightly, giving a small nod.

You let out a sigh of relief, lifting your hands and quickly threading your fingers between curls and to his scalp. As you fluff his hair, nails scratching at his scalp slightly, Mattheo's eyes almost involuntarily roll.

"Merlin's fucking beard, that feels good," Mattheo praises as you finally take your hands away from his head. He shakes his head back and forth, his curls flopping this way and that before standing still again, giving you a big smile, "Better?"

"Godric, yes," you breathe, "I'm sorry, Matty. The flatness was killing me." Mattheo bit his lip to stifle a laugh, "Oh yeah? Tell me how you really feel, babe."

You gave a playful shove to his shoulder, "You really should pay attention to your hair more. It's one of your best features. But Enzo did just get that new haircut and might I say..." you gave an exaggerated sigh and fanned your face with your hand.

"You saying Enzo's hair looks better than mine?" Mattheo laid a hand on his chest, mocking offense. You shrugged, grin continuously growing.

Mattheo gasped at your lack of response, squeezing your side playfully. You giggled, pushing his hands away, "Okay, okay. I'm just saying you need to take care of those curls or one hot guy haircut is gonna make you fall down the ranks."

Mattheo shook his head, his now lively curls bouncing as he did. "Listen, if you ever. And I mean ever see my curls dead again, I don't care what I'm doing, you stop me and fix them. Preferably with the head scratches like you just did."

There was no thought needed, no extra considerations, before your immediate response, "Deal."

[cherimoyatea]

The LaDs Men healing your inner child...

...they accidentally evoke your insecurities and comfort you.

❧ Part IV - Sylus - Tight Threads

Pairing: Sylus x You Synopsis: An ill-fitting dress triggers a panic attack during a date with Sylus. Word count: 963 Tags: sylus being a suggestive little tease, panic attack, body image issue, romance, fluff, comfort Side notes: Welcome to the last part of the mini-series! Fun fact: The plot (some parts at least) is based on true events, but unfortunately, there was no Sylus to comfort me back then 🫠 I refrained from going into details about MC's body type so that anyone can envision themselves in the role. A tight dress can be uncomfortable no matter the size and shape. However. Sylus loves you just the way you are! And with that, this series comes to an end. Thank you for reading 🩷 Part I - Xavier ❧ Part II - Rafayel ❧ Part III - Zayne

Ruby-red eyes gaze at you intently from across the round table as you nervously fidget with your dress. The restaurant he chose is even more lavish than you imagined and your nerves are on edge. In this dress that's way too tight and short, you feel as if you can't breathe, and you can't shake the impression that all the other guests are focused on your insecurities.

''Is everything okay, Kitten? You seem... tense.'' Sylus swirls his glass of red wine between his long fingers while you nervously shift in your chair. You blush as you suddenly feel his gaze on you and adjust your dress again. ''Sylus, I appreciate your invitation, but you didn't need to go this far.''

Maybe you should have mentioned that the custom-made dress didn't fit properly when he handed you the pink paper bag with it earlier. You remember standing in your bathroom, holding it up against your body and squeezing yourself into it while he waited in your living room—hoping he wouldn't hear you curse as you struggled to pull the zipper up at the back.

There was likely a mistake by the seamstress, but you still insisted on wearing it to honor his gift.

The silver-haired man takes a sip from his glass and leans back to make room for the waiter as he approaches your table with your orders. For him, it's just another evening in a high-end restaurant, but he has noticed that you're uncomfortable. ''If you'd prefer, we can move our date somewhere else. Would you like to leave?''

You shake your head as the waiter sets your plate down, unwilling to shift the date elsewhere. After all it's not his fault that the dress was poorly tailored, accentuating all the parts of you that you are self-conscious about. You grab your own glass nervously, hoping a sip of your drink will help calm your nerves. But instead, you both startle as you accidentally tip it over, sending it crashing to the floor.

"Oh dear, how clumsy." You hear whispers from a nearby table, accompanied by giggles, as the waiter gathers the shards from the floor. You can't help but feel sick as you cautiously look around, realizing everyone is staring at you.

Sylus's head immediately swivels toward the table of giggling women, and his serious glare silences them instantly. They sheepishly return their focus to their plates, poking at their food, and you could swear you saw a brief flash of red in his left eye.

But right now, you have other worries.

"Excuse me!" You quickly stand up from the table and hurry through the restaurant, heading to the restroom to escape. Your heart races as you crouch by the luxurious sinks, resting your head on your knees in an attempt to calm your quickening breath. A panic attack, of all times!

Just a few moments later, you hear the door to the restroom open, and someone approaches you slowly, crouching down beside you. Without looking up, you know immediately that Sylus has followed you. He lowers his head with a concerned expression and gently takes your hand. ''I'm here for you. What do you need?''

''T-The… the zipper…'' You stutter as you continue gasping for air, futilely reaching with your free hand for the zipper pull between your shoulder blades. Sylus follows your movement with his eyes and then yanks the zipper down your back in one swift motion. ''Calm, deep breaths, Sweetie. It'll get better soon.''

His rough, calm voice is soothing as he gently strokes your trembling back, careful not to overwhelm you with his presence. And finally, you feel the tension slowly lift from your body for the first time that evening as you take a deep breathe.

Sylus waits patiently beside you, continuing to stroke your back, and after a while, your breathing steadies. ''I'm so sorry… I've ruined the evening.'' You whisper weakly as he gently helps you stand up from the cold marble floor.

''Take off your dress, Kitten.''

Sylus doesn't answer immediately, giving you a moment to steady yourself before he moves closer with a charming grin.

Your eyes widen in surprise at his request, completely caught off guard by his sudden change in demeanor as you look at him in disbelief. ''W-What?!''

Your heels scrape against the marble floor as you step back, feeling the sink behind you. This time it wasn't a panic attack that caused your heart to race in your chest! ''Here!? Now?? Are you serious!?''

''Dead serious.'' The attractive giant replies as he almost towers over you. It's only when he grabs a familiar-looking pink paper bag from the floor that his words make sense. Until now, you had been so focused on managing your panic attack that you didn't notice him bringing it into the restroom. He takes out your favorite jeans and a sweater, and hands them to you with a smug grin. ''I took the liberty of borrowing a few things from your closet before we left. I hope you don't mind.''

Surprised by his thoughtful gesture, you take the clothes and press them against your chest. He must have overheard you earlier in your apartment and snuck into your bedroom to get the clothes and empty paper bag while you were busy getting ready. ''But... what about the dress? This casual outfit would be completely inappropriate for a venue as expensive as this.''

You shift your gaze down to the dress, now hanging loosely from your shoulders. The zipper torn at the back. But Sylus shakes his head as he gently lifts your chin with his fingers so his gleaming eyes meet yours again.

''I don't care about that damn dress, Sweetie. You're the only expensive thing in this inappropriate venue. Remember that.''

Thank you for reading!

Cheri 🍒

[nachrosas]

DADDY'S DOCTOR | s.reid x reader

summary: in which Paddy suffers an accident and doctor Spencer enters the scene. pairing: spencer reid x reader content warnings: small mentions of needles word count: 807 a/n: while i'm working on the second chapter of my unsub!reader series, i left you guys another dad!spencer! hope you like it!

The majestic silence of the late afternoon was only interrupted by a series of low, irregular sobs. On the floor of the lilac room, among the scattered building blocks and pencils, Olivia was sitting cross-legged, her face hidden behind Paddy. Her favorite teddy bear.

Soft sunlight streamed in through the open window, illuminating the teddy's arm, which now hung loosely, almost completely torn. Loose threads stood out like exposed wounds, and Oliva held the toy carefully as if she feared hurting it even more.

Her small shoulders trembled as she tried to hold back tears. “I'm sorry, Teddy,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “I didn't mean to hurt you!”

Just then, light footsteps echoed down the corridor. The bedroom door opened slowly, and you and Spencer appeared. You stopped midway when you noticed Olivia's expression.

“Baby? What happened?” you asked, your voice laden with concern. 

She raised her watery eyes, showing you the teddy bear. “I… I just wanted to hold him tight, but… I ended up hurting Paddy!” she explained, sobbing. “Now he's broken…”

Spencer tilted his head, observing the damage with a careful eye. He knelt down beside her and picked up the teddy bear, examining the torn arm with almost scientific precision.

“Ah.” he said softly, a slight smile appearing on his face. “It looks serious, but nothing a good doctor can't fix.”

Olivia blinked, confused. “A doctor? You know how to fix it?”

You plopped down next to her and said with false seriousness, holding back a smile. “This is Doctor Spencer Reid and he's at your service! His specialty is surgery on good teddy bears!” She looked at you with a twinkle in her eye. “And, of course, like any good surgeon, he'll need a talented assistant. Will you help him?”

For the first time since Paddy's tear, Olivia let out a shy smile, wiping away the tears with the sleeve of her blouse. “I'll do it.”

And just like that, the room turned into a makeshift operating theater, with Spencer already planning the procedure while Olivia and you watched the scene with curious and hopeful eyes.

Spencer came back into the room with a small sewing kit in his hands, balancing a pin cushion and brown thread that matched Olivia's teddy bear. He knelt down beside her, opening the kit as if it were a first aid kit.

“Now, we need to prepare for emergency surgery,” announced Spencer, adjusting his glasses and assuming an exaggeratedly serious tone.

Olivia watched him carefully, her eyes still slightly moist. “Surgery? Are you really going to fix Paddy?”

“Of course!” he replied, smiling. ”But first we need to anesthetize the patient.”

With that, he took a band-aid from his wallet and carefully placed it over the teddy bear's head. “There. He won't feel a thing now,” he explained, winking at Olivia.

You started to laugh and noticed that Olivia's little eyes began to sparkle. “Paddy doesn't have a real head, Spencer!”

“You're right!” he said, nodding with false gravity. “But it's always better to be safe!”

Spencer then picked up the thread and needle, beginning the repair with his deft fingers. As he worked, he looked at Olivia. “You know, when I was little, I had a favorite toy too. A rabbit called Watson. I used to carry him everywhere.”

“Watson?” she asked, curious.

“Yes. He lost his ear once when I left him near a washing machine.” Spencer continued, frowning as if reliving the moment. “Grandma Diana sewed it back on for me. It was the first time I'd seen someone repair something that I thought was impossible to fix.”

“Did you cry?” Olivia asked, leaning forward.

“A lot! I cried so much I could hardly speak!” admitted Spencer, laughing. ”But Grandma said Watson was stronger than ever. Because there was part of her in him now!”

Olivia smiled, watching as Spencer finished sewing up the teddy bear's arm.

“Now we just need to close the cut and… that's it!” he held the teddy up in the air as if presenting a work of art. “Paddy is officially cured! He's got a bit of you, Mommy, and me in him now.”

Olivia picked up the teddy, hugging it tightly before throwing herself into Spencer's arms. “Thank you, Daddy! You're the best teddy bear doctor in the world!”

Spencer smiled and hugged her back, stroking the top of her head. “You're welcome, my love. I'm glad Paddy's back on the team!”

The three of you were sitting together on the bedroom floor. Olivia was happily playing with Paddy on the carpet, pretending that they were going on an adventure with their other toys. You leaned your head on Spencer's shoulder as you watched the scene with a satisfied smile, murmuring in a low voice: “Small gestures really can be the best medicine for the heart.”

[scarlethexelove]

hey sydney

big fan here. Your last works were HOT like HOOOOOOT so I would love to read reader riding Agatha magic strap for first time 

There's A First Time For Everything

Pairings: Agatha Harkness x Reader

Word Count: 1401

Warnings: Smut, Enchanted Strap-on, Blowjob, Riding, Pet names, Pretty soft, Innocent!Reader, Squirting Strap-on, I can't think of what else.

A/n: I hope you enjoy this. I combined two asks since they were pretty similar and could be incorporated into this one fic. Hopefully it isn't as shitty as I feel like it turned out to be.

NO ONE IS PERMITTED TO STEAL, COPY, OR REBLOG MY WORK AS THEIR OWN

You look up through hooded eyes. Your hands planted firmly on your bare thighs, sat on your knees looking up at the older woman. Her body is naked except for the purple strap-on secured around her waist. It bounces in front of your face. It looks so inviting. You want to taste it but you also desperately want it inside of you. The thought alone makes your arousal drip out of you smearing against your thighs. 

“Go on sweetheart.” Agatha encourages you. Your doe eyes meeting her blown pupils. Having you in this position looking up at her with such innocent eyes drives her wild. This is all so new to you. Perfect for her to mold you into the perfect little pet. So willing and eager to please her. You shuffle on your knees forward, your lips almost touching the tip. You look up at her questioningly and she gives you a nod. Your eyes moving back down and focusing on the strap. Your tongue reaches out and gives it an experimental lick. Agatha groans at the action. 

Agatha’s fingers thread through your hair as she pulls you closer. “Fuck princess you can do it.” You don’t want to disappoint her so you wrap your lips around the tip and give it a suck. Agatha lets out a loud moan as her grip tightens in your hair. You swirl your tongue lightly around the tip as your eyes meet hers once again. It has hit you yet until she starts to slowly thrust into your mouth. Her chest heaves as she pants, small moans falling from her lips. She has enchanted the strap and can feel everything. Your warm and wet mouth welcoming her strap. 

You start to bob your head to take more of Agatha in your mouth. She is trying so hard to not grab both sides of your head and start to roughly fuck your throat. She wants to train you first, you're still so innocent she can’t break you before she even has the chance to start. So she lets you take some of the lead. You gag on her length as you continue to take more of her in your mouth. Your gags eliciting another moan from the woman. 

“Fuck princess.” Agatha moans louder. Your throat feels so good around her. Her hips twitch as she gets closer. The burn in your scalp increases as her grip tightens. She so desperately wants to cum down your throat and she is so close but she doesn’t. Instead she pulls you off her, which causes you to cough and sputter, catching your breath. You're both panting heavily. Agatha pulls you to your feet, her hand on your cheek as you look into her eyes. “I want to fill you up princess. I want you leaking.” She murmurs before kissing you deeply. 

Agatha’s free hand grips your hip tightly pulling you as close as possible. You can feel her strap nudging at your folds between your bodies. “You’re going to ride me.” She mumbles against your lips. You pull back, giving her a bewildered look. “A-Aggie I’ve ne-never.” Agatha gives you a smile. “Don’t worry sweetheart it’s going to feel so good.” You look down, taking a moment to think about it before giving a small nod. Her finger hooks under your chin making you look up at her. “What was that princess?” She knows you didn’t say anything but she wants to hear you. “Okay Aggie.” She pecks your lips. “Good girl.” 

Agatha moves to the bed positioning herself in the center of the large bed, pillows stacked behind her like a throne as she leans back. Her strong and powerful demeanor draws you in. She beckons for you to come over. The ache between your legs has you moving quickly as you climb on the bed. She can see how your arousal has smeared on your legs. “Aww did you get all needy just by sucking me off.” Your face flushes at her words. You bow your head as you nod lightly. “Yes.” You whisper. “Let me help you fix that ickiness princess.” Agatha reaches out for you pulling you to where you are now straddling her lap and hovering over her strap. 

Your hips are guided down by Agatha as she lines her strap up with your dripping entrance. The head presses against your entrance before Agatha pulls you down. Her strap is buried inside of you in one fell swoop. Your hands fly to her shoulders as you moan out at the sudden fullness. Agatha’s head falls back as your warm wet walls swallow her whole. She now knows there is nothing better than the feeling of being buried inside of you. “Fuck your pussy feels amazing. I should have done this a long time ago.” Agatha groans her hands on your hips as her hips twitch in anticipation. “So full.” You groan. 

Agatha looks at you expectedly. She wants you to figure it out on your own for you to experiment with riding her.  She gives you a little thrust to encourage your movements. You slowly get the hint when she barely moves. With a roll of your hips you can feel as the strap shifts inside you. As you roll your hips more and see how Agatha's chest heaves at your movements, you become a little more confident. 

You lift your hips up before dropping back down in her lap. This has a moan falling from both of your lips at the action. This urges you to keep going, picking up your pace as you start to bounce in the woman's lap. Her fingers digging into your hips. Her eyes move to focus on your bouncing breast. “So beautiful and all mine.” She leans up and attaches her lips to your neck. Nipping and sucking at the skin leaving marks behind that you will surely find later. 

Moans bounce off the walls as you continue to bounce in Agatha’s lap. Agatha plants her feet on the bed and starts to thrust up into you allowing you to perfectly roll your hips into her. The strap hitting inside of you perfectly with each thrust. “S-So good.” Your head falls back as Agatha continues to leave marks across your neck and chest. She wraps her arms around your waist holding you close to her body. Both of you become perfectly in sync with one another as your bodies move together. Pushing you closer to your release. 

Your walls pulse around Agatha’s cock the closer you draw to the edge. Agatha’s hips twitch and stutter as your walls keep sucking her back in. “Fuck gonna fill you so good. So fucking perfect.” Agatha mumbles against your skin. You moan to the point of almost screaming at a particularly hard thrust. Your walls clamp down hard around Agatha, the coil unraveling. You silently scream as you drive your hips down, cumming hard and coating Agatha’s strap. As your walls pulse and suck her in Agatha thrusts a few more times before releasing inside of you. You gasp as you feel her sticky white cum painting your walls. The sensation sends smaller aftershocks of your orgasm through your body making you tremble in her hold. 

You're both panting as you desperately hold onto one another. Your head falls on Agatha’s shoulder as she gently kisses the side of your head. “You did so good for me princess.” She whispers reassuringly in your ear as you both come down from your highs. Your eyes are closed as you bask in the fuzziness of your post orgasmic haze. “Did you enjoy that sweetheart?” Agatha questions you softly as she strokes your back. You hum happily and nuzzle into her neck for comfort. She chuckles at how adorable you are. “See that wasn’t so bad was it?” You shake your head. “No.” You mumble placing light kisses on the side of her neck. “I can tell how much you loved me filling you up.” Agatha nibbles at your ear causing you to whine and blush. 

The room as silent as you both let the calmness wash over you. Still in the same position comfortable with the closeness that you both feel. “I love you princess.” Agatha says quietly in the silence. “I love you too, Aggie.” You mumble sleepily. Agatha hugs you that much closer with love and new understandings.

[kiwriteswords]

cliche tropes: always missing the other person saying ‘i love you’ like not realising the other persons asleep, they can’t hear you over the noisy police precinct, think they’re talking to someone else

But you know you're not dreaming [Aaron Hotchner x Female Reader]

Masterlist || Ao3||Word Count: >1k|| AN: LOVE a good ole cliche trope! Thanks for sending this in!!

Tags/Warnings: no use of y/n, drabble, saying 'i love you' for the first time, tropes, established relationship, mentions of a draining case, insomnia? if you squint, confessions of love, fluff!! fluffy fluff, Hotch's POV

Summary: In the middle of the night, when you think Hotch is asleep, you feel brave enough to share those three little words you feel so deeply about him.

In the quiet of the night, the only sound Aaron Hotchner could hear was the steady rhythm of his own heart—a sound he had grown all too familiar with in the solitude that often accompanied his late hours. But tonight was different. Tonight, the soft, steady breaths of the woman lying beside him in bed filled the room with a gentle cadence that spoke of peace and a contentment long thought lost to him.

You had been together for only a few months, yet the bond between you seemed to stretch beyond the confines of time. You fit into his life seamlessly, a soothing presence not just for him but for Jack as well. The way you smiled at his son, the laughter you brought into their home—it healed parts of him he’d resigned to be forever broken.

Hotch had been lying on his back, eyes closed, feigning sleep. The day had been long, a case draining more from him than he cared to admit. You thought he was asleep, lost to dreams and the darkness of the night. It was in this quiet moment, believing herself unobserved, that you decided to practice the words you hadn’t yet dared to say aloud.

“I love you, Aaron,” you whispered, the words a tentative exploration, testing how they felt in the privacy of what you believed was your unshared silence. “I love you so much it scares me.”

Hotch’s breath hitched silently in his throat. He remained perfectly still, scarcely believing what he was hearing. The vulnerability in your voice, the confession of your love—these were gifts he never expected to receive again.

You continued, unaware of his wakefulness, the soft cadence of your voice threading through the darkness. “I don’t know if I’m ready to tell you yet, but God, I love you. I hope you feel the same.”

Every word you uttered struck a chord within him, resonating deep in his soul. It wasn’t just the declaration but the fear, the hope, and the raw honesty that accompanied it. Hotch had known loss, had known the bitter sting of a love ended too soon, and had doubted whether he could ever open his heart again. But here, beside him, lay the reason he had dared to try once more.

Slowly, Hotch turned towards you, opening his eyes to the dimly lit room where moonlight cast gentle shadows across your face. Seeing you so close, the lines of worry softened by sleep, he knew he had found something extraordinary—not just for himself but for his son as well.

“Aaron?” you murmured, startled, as you felt him move. Your eyes, wide and filled with surprise, met his. The vulnerability you’d felt speaking into the darkness was now laid bare under his gaze.

“I heard you,” Hotch said softly, his voice a low rumble of emotion. “And I’m glad I did.”

Your heart might have stopped—if only for a beat. The enormity of the moment held you both captive.

“I love you too,” he confessed, each word deliberate and true. “I’ve wanted to say it for a while now, but I wasn’t sure how.”

Tears, unbidden but not unwelcome, welled in your eyes as relief and joy mingled in your expression. Hotch reached out, his hand gently cupping your cheek, thumb brushing away the moisture that escaped your lashes.

“I was scared,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “Scared of saying it first, scared of what it means...”

“Me too,” Hotch acknowledged, his own barriers crumbling in the face of your shared confession. “But we’re in this together, aren’t we?”

“Yes,” you breathed out, a smile breaking through the emotional overflow. “Together.”

In that moment, the world outside their quiet sanctuary seemed inconsequential. There was only the truth of what they shared, a love both profound and profoundly simple in its necessity. As Hotch leaned in, his lips met yours in a kiss that sealed promises neither needed words to express. It was a kiss of understanding, of acceptance, and of a love that, once whispered in the dark, would now light their way forward.

Tag List:

@zaddyhotch

@estragos

@todorokishoe24

@looking1016

@khxna

@rousethemouse

@averyhotchner

@reidfile

@bernelflo

@lover-of-books-and-tea

@frickin-bats

@sleepysongbirdsings

@justyourusualash

@person-005

@iyskgd

[the-kr8tor]

hihi katy! ₍˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶₎ saw your post and honestly, you're not the only one obsessing over our boy savior, especially after that tragic ending for him in S2. (ꎿຶ꒫ꎿຶ) i'd like to make a request for him cus he really deserves to be happy and taken care of (৹˃ᗝ˂৹),,, could you write a lil summat about treating his wounds or maybe helping him change, helping him fall asleep, babying him, etc. pretty please? ʚ♡ɞ only if you want to! i hope you have a wonderful rest of your day!! ♡

- 🐋.

Hello!!! Thank you for the lovely request! I had too much fun with it lol

Pairing: Ekko x fem! Reader

Word count: 1.3k

Tags: no use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, CW injuries, CW blood, lovestruck! Ekko, CW needles, CW suggestive, no spoilers for s2, a bit of hurt/comfort, fluff!

Navigation

Ekko retells the whole ordeal that just transpired a few minutes ago, which was exactly thirty three minutes ago. You counted the time with bated breath, and you've been keeping time since he skidded off his hoverboard and straight into a wall after Smeech shot his board midair. Your eyes keep darting off to the dried blood on his temple, iron and crimson marring his handsome face. And worrying you with every second that ticks by. Even though he got out of it in one piece, your heart still aches at the sight of the various gashes and bruises dotted along his skin.

A hundred scenes flit over your mind, things that you could've done to prevent his fall. You would have jumped off and caught him before he hit the hard wall, or the end of your gun would have met Smeech’s head before he even shot his own. Your breathing quickens, and the harsh bulbs of the hideout's meeting room doesn't help the headache blooming in your skull.

He notices your heavy gaze, brown eyes glancing at you whilst he continues to debrief his fellow firelights. He's still the pinnacle of a leader despite his injuries. Your eyes are starting to get glossy, brows furrowed in thinking. So as he finishes off the meeting in record time and sends off the others to do a sweep around the area yo make sure no one followed the group, he's on you immediately the second the door closes.

“Hey.” Ekko's voice is soft, gloved hand grazing your chin as he moves your head gently to face him. “Look at me, breathe.”

Your eyes meet his own, hands flying to grasp at his wrists to anchor yourself to him. “Are you okay?” You finally feel your lungs relaxing as he holds you.

He smiles, cracking the dried crimson on his cheek. “I'm good, still breathing.” Grabing the back of your chair, he scoots you over to his seat, effectively placing you in between his legs, knees knocking against your own in greeting.

Shaking your head, your hand hovers above his wound. “Does it hurt? You hit the ground— I heard it then when I went to look and I—”

Ekko leans against your hand to ease you. “It doesn't hurt much anymore, see? I won't be able to do this if it still hurts.”

Sniffing, your shoulders slump as you place your head atop his chest, careful of his hidden injuries. “Let me take care of you, please.” Your voice is muffled by his bandana, feeling his hand trace the line on your spine to soothe you more. “I should be the one taking care of you.”

“Who said?” He jokes, lips pecking the crown of your head.

You lean away, staring at him through your lashes as you frown. “I did.”

Chuckling, he cups your face, squeezing you once until you're smiling softly at him. “Okay, just go easy on me, firefly.”

—

You made a list for yourself to follow. After drawing him a bath, which he rarely takes because of his busy schedule, he cleans off the day's activities whilst you ready everything you need to tend to his wounds.

“You're not joining in?” Ekko asks in the tub, face scrunched against the wooden surface as steam rises up from the water. His hair is loose, twists falling over his playful eyes. “Water's warm.”

“Not this time, Ekko.” You say as you thread a needle. “I need to bandage your wound, and you know that the second I'm in there with you we won't get anything done.”

He scrunches his face, blowing raspberries in the air. “Foiled again. You're no fun.” The water overflows as he submerges himself down in the tub.

“Having an open head wound is no fun, Ekko.” Walking closer to the tub, he sees you above the water, eyebrow raised and voice garbled. “Didn't I tell you not to wet your head? I'm sure I double checked that you don't have a concussion.”

He blows air bubbles at you, hands reaching up so you can pull him out. Rising above, he wipes the water off his face. “Joining in won't hurt.”

You kneel down to level with him, arms placed on the edge of the tub and face resting atop it as you flutter your lashes at him. “If you let me take care of you for once then I'll jump in.”

His hands subtly snake over to your elbows, and you quickly know what he's up to. “Why not now—”

“Not now, tomorrow. I promise.” You kiss his wet lips chastely before standing up and giving him a hand. “Come on, bossman, don't be incorrigible.”

Sighing, Ekko surrenders to you. “Big word.” He says as he heaves himself up off the tub. Water dripping down his sculpted torso.

With a roll of your eyes, you take your hand away and toss him a towel. “Hide your bits, Ekko.” Laughing, the towel hits him right on his face.

“You like these bits though.” After he tucks the towel against his waist, he immediately grabs you by your waist, rubbing his wet face and hair against your own. He's happy to be back in your arms when he was this close to not going home.

“Ekko!” Your giggles bounce off the bathroom, and his guffaw is muffled by the side of your neck.

—

He acts tough in front of you as he sits in between your legs backwards. The way that he grips at your thighs says otherwise as the needle pierces his skin. Hissing, his fingers dig into your pants, eyes closed as he stiffens from the suture.

“Almost done, I promise.” Snipping off the thread, you clean the wound with an antiseptic and then closing it with gauze and medical tape. The firelights don't joke around with medical supplies.

You still remember the time he first tended to your wounds. And how much of a baby you were with the needle.

“Barely noticeable, I think I did okay.” You hold up a mirror for him, but he ignores it as he twists around, chest in full display as cups your cheeks. “I'd take a simple thank you, but a kiss is so much better.”

Ekko smiles gently, eyes crinkling at the corners before sighing deeply. “I'm alright, firefly.”

You look at him with all the love in the world. “I know, Ekko.” Wiping a stray water droplet away from his clavicle, you sniff and the scent of your soap that he used wafts over your nose, making you smile. “You're here, and I'm here. We're okay.” Nodding, you reassure him.

His thumb brushes along under your eye before leaning in to kiss you like it's the first time. Eyes closed, a single tear escapes from him as you cradle him in your arms, hands holding him in place and anchoring him to you.

Reluctantly pulling away, he pauses for a second before pecking each of your cheeks, then your forehead and whole face until you're giggling in his arms and with himself chuckling with every kiss.

Your hands run along his arms, feeling the muscles stretch underneath and the goosebumps that are left in your wake. “Aren't you cold?” You say in between his kisses.

Ekko pauses from attacking your face, and smiles fondly at you. He shakes his head, nose scrunched up. “No.”

“You sure?” You poke his chest, feeling how cool his skin has become since getting out of the bath. He shivers against your cold finger. You raise a teasing eyebrow at him as he sighs.

“...fine.”

“Arms raised up, bossman.” Patting his bicep, you grab a clean shirt you've prepared for him right next to you on the bed. When you turn back towards him, surprisingly, he has his arms raised up and waiting.

You unabashedly roam your eyes over the muscles of his chest. Effectively ogling him as he smirks at you.

“Shirt off then?” Ekko drops his hands down to his lap, head tilting as your eyes meet with his own. Finding that they have the same glint in them like your own.

“No shirt.” You say, tossing the shirt away before finding yourself pushed down on the soft mattress.

Support banner by @/cafekitsune

[starstruckmiraclekitty]

141 and König crying in front of the reader for the first time? Can be angsty, can be sweet. Just how would that look like? Short lil blurbs would be MUCHOOO apriciated! ☺️

Hey! I can do this. I did a little mix of both. Hope this is what you were looking for😊🩷

141 + König Crying For The First Time In Front Of Reader

Warnings: crying, swearing, slightly angst, fluff

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Simon Ghost Riley-

You and Simon were taking a bath together, enjoying each other's company after a long week. You were facing him, legs planted firmly around his waist as you ran a bar of soap along his body.

Your eyes followed the bar as you began to observe the various scars that littered his torso. You'd seen them in passing, but your eyes never lingered on them like they were now.

Simon's breath hitched slightly as the feeling of the bar was soon replaced by your fingers, tracing over one of the larger scars that marred his skin.

Your fingers traced thoughtfully any scar within reach, and Simon watched how you admired each of them. Your bottom lip tucked in between your teeth as you traced a particularly large one.

"There is nothing ugly about you. You're so beautiful, Simon." You murmured, your eyes still transfixed on his scars, your fingers continuing to dance on his abdomen.

"You tryin' to memorize them?" He teased, his hands falling to rest on your arms gently.

"I want to know everything about you. Down to the last scar." You spoke, your eyes not lifting from his skin.

"They are the ugliest part of me."

Simon's world came crashing to a halt the moment those words left your mouth. Beautiful? You thought he was beautiful? Simon had been called a multitude of things, but beautiful? Never.

When you finally lifted your eyes back up to him, you were surprised to find a few stray tears rolling down Simon's cheeks. 

"Simon? Are you alright?" You asked, your voice dripping with concern. You'd never, not once, throughout your entire relationship seen the man cry and it broke your heart. "I didn't mean to make you cry."

Simon said nothing, only pulled you into his chest, pressing a soft kiss to your hair. Before you, he'd never had anyone touch him like you were just now. The gentleness of not only your voice but of your touch had Simon's cold heart thawing rapidly. You made him feel unequivocally safe, safe from the years of torment that followed him, and loved beyond a shadow of doubt.

"You make me feel like I'm worth loving." His voice came barely above a whisper next to your ear as he continued to hold you.

"That's because you are, Simon. More than you'll ever know."

König-

König awoke with a start, his heart stammering out of his chest. He looked over to you, in hopes to find some solace, but it did little to ease his racing mind.

You awoke moments later to the sounds of slight sniffles and heavy breaths from next to you.

"Kö? Honey, are you okay?" You asked, rubbing the sleep from your eyes as you sat up.

"You were…you were gone…and there was nothing I could do." He breathed out, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he struggled to regain his composure. He was sitting upright, and his grip was iron tight on the sheets in front of him.

Panic attacks weren't an uncommon occurrence for König, but this seemed to be taking a heavier toll on him than normal. 

"König, baby, what happened? Did you have a nightmare?" You asked as you gently cupped his cheek, turning it so he was facing you.

Your heart shattered as you took in his tear stained cheeks, something you'd never witnessed on him before. "Kö, talk to me."

"It felt so real, Maus. You were..you were dead. Right in front of me. And I couldn't save you." His body racked slightly with silent sobs as he threw his head into his hands. "They killed you. You were dead."

"Honey, I'm right here. Come here." You spoke, pulling your large husband into your arms. He laid his head against your chest, and you began to thread your feelings through his light brown locks, soothing him gently. "I'm not going anywhere, I'm right here."

You could feel Königs breathing begin to go back to normal, but he continued to cling into you as if you'd dissapear if he let go.

"Don't ever leave me, Maus." He spoke, his voice shaking slightly. "I can't live without you."

"I'm not going anywhere, Kö. I'm yours." You continued to massage his head soothingly before feeling his chest rise and fall deeply, signaling he fell asleep.

He awoke the next morning to find that he was still tucked into your chest, your arms still firmly wrapped around him. He decided it wouldn't be such a bad idea to sleep in, just a little longer.

Kyle Gaz Garrick-

"You don't have to go on this mission, Kyle. Even John said that it's optional. Our anniversary is next week. Does that mean nothing to you?" You felt tears beginning to form in the corner of your eyes as you watched your husband pace the kitchen.

"Y/N, you're not listening to me. It's not like I have a choice. It will make me look bad if I say no." Kyle exclaimed, throwing his hands up in frustration.

"We always have choices, Kyle." Your voice was eerily calm, and it scared the shit out of him. "It's obvious I'm not yours."

"Babe, please don't make this out to be something it is not. You always do this. My job is important to me."

"And I'm not?" You asked, your voice shaking. "I..I can't do this anymore."

"What?" His heart dropped into his stomach at your words as he made his way toward you. "Don't say that."

"I'm going to go out for a bit. Clear my head." You gently pushed him away as you made to grab your car keys.

"Y/N, wait we need to talk about this." He rushed toward you, grabbing your wrist gently. "Please."

"There's nothing to say that hasn't been already said. I just need some air." You pulled your wrist away from him, and left the house.

~

You came home a few hours later, after some much needed alone time to parse through your thoughts.

"Kyle?" You asked, walking through the front door. "I'm home."

You made your way into the living room and found Kyle on the couch, his face stained red with tear marks.

"I…I thought you left me." He spoke, aggressively wiping away at the remaining tears. "I didn't know if you'd come back."

"Oh Kyle, I wouldn't have left you, not like that." You said, sitting next to him on the couch. "I just needed some air before I said something I'd regret. I just don't want to fight anymore."

"I don't, either. And I really, really don't want to lose you Y/N. I can not imagine my life without you." He grabbed your hands gently, holding them in his as he spoke. "I'll call of the mission. I was so wrapped up in impressing Price I didn't give a second thought to our anniversary, I'm so sorry."

"I know your job is important, but sometimes it feels like it's all that matters to you." You said, your eyes flickering down to your joined hands.

"That's not true at all, and I'm so sorry you feel that way. I'm going to do everything in my power to prove otherwise. I love you so much."

You gave him a warm smile before engulfing him in a tight embrace. "I love you too, Kyle."

John Price- 

John's heart was leaping out of his chest. He'd just gotten a call from Simon while he was driving home after a mission, letting him know the base had received a ransom letter, saying that they had you in their custody.

John had never driven so fast in his life, his hands white knuckling the steering wheel as he drove well over the speed limit to get to your shared home.

~

"Y/N?" John called out, barging through the front door. His heart dropped when he heard no immediate answer. "Y/N, where are you?!"

He sprinted across the entire home, frantically looking for you, to no avail. He felt tears begin to pool at his eyes as he dropped to his knees on the floor. He'd never be able to live with himself if you'd gotten hurt because of him. You were his everything.

It was a few moments later when he heard the front door opening, and the sound of rustling bags.

"John! Baby, I didn't know you were coming home early. I would've been here!" You called out, walking through the front door, your hands filled with grocery bags. "I was just out doing some grocery shopping."

John felt the immense weight on his shoulders immediately vanish upon hearing your sweet voice and quickly turned to validate that you were, in fact, here, right in front of him. 

"Sweetheart?" You saw a few tears fall down his cheeks as he huffed out a deep breath in an attempt to compose himself. 

Your heart shattered as your eyes fell on his face. You'd never seen him cry before and didn't know what to do as tears continued to pour down his cheeks. "John, honey, are you okay?"

He stood and ran toward you, wrapping you in the tightest hug he could, his mind still not comprehending that you were there, that you were safe. "I thought they had you."

"Who? I'm safe, John. I'm here." You spoke, wrapping your arms around your fiancees' shoulders. "I'm okay."

"I was told that a group of mercenaries took you for ransom. I thought you were gone." John stood like that for some time, his firm grip not easing up in the slightest. "I'd do anything for you, you know what right?"

"I know. And I would do anything for you." You said, pulling away slightly to wipe at his wet cheeks.

"Let's go away this weekend. You and me." He set you down, watching your brows furrow at his words.

"John, I'm okay, we don't have-"

"I want to. I want to get away from the world, from this place. Just be you and I. Let me have that. Let me at least have a few days where I know you're safe." He pressed a kiss to your temple before smiling down at you. "Please."

"A weekend away with you doesn't sound so bad." You giggled, laying your head back down onto his chest.

"Damn right, it doesn't."

Johnny Soap MacTavish-

"Quit jittering MacTavish, you're even making me nervous." Simon teased, shoving the groom playfully.

"Away an bile yer heid. What if they changed their mind?" Johnny couldn't control the anxiety he was having. He'd heard of wedding day jitters, but swore he wouldn't have them. How wrong he was.

"They love you, Johnny. I know they'll be here." Simon patted his shoulder reassuringly. "Don't know what git in their right mind would marry you, but what do I know."

Johnny's retort died in his throat as the music began, signaling your arrival. He clasped his shaking hands together in front of him, his eyes making their way to the aisle.

Johnny felt his breath hitch in his throat as you made your appearance, you looking as beautiful and radiant as ever, making your way down the aisle toward him. 

Unable to control his array of emotions, he felt tears begin to pool in his eyes as he kept his eyes locked on you. You'd never looked more beautiful than you had in that moment, and the fact that you were about to commit yourself to him and him alone for the rest of your life had Johnny nearly in a fit of tears.

Your smile was lighting up the entire room, and he was unable to keep his eyes off of you. The whole moment felt surreal to him, and he couldn't possibly think of a moment where he'd been happier than he was right now. The tears continued to stream down his face as you made your way down the final bit of the aisle to him.

When you finally made your way to him, the person who walked you down the aisle gave your hand to Johnny, and he swore he felt his heart stop beating at the way you looked at him.

Johnny had been through hell and back in his life, and the one constant beacon of hope, of light, was you. He'd never made any better decision, than the one he made to marry you.

"You look so beautiful, sweeheart." He cooed, a few final stray tears running down his cheeks. "I can't believe we are getting married."

"No cold feet?" You teased, your smile still melting his heart.

"Never."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[madebycloud]

pt 5 | Not Even at All

jinx/powder x female reader — 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬⠀𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

summary: vi is off limits until her sister gets a date that doesn't end within the first ten minutes. eager to date vi, a certain girl approaches you with a proposal. date jinx. win her over. and for your efforts, she's willing to be generous. (10 Things I Hate About You AU) warnings/themes: fluff and slight angst, enemies to finally lovers yey, highschool, modern au, kat!jinx, patrick!reader words: 5.5k notes: i burn, i pine, i perish! it's finally the last part hehe — ✩ part one, part two, part three, part four, part five

Jinx glares at the blank sheet of notebook paper in front of her. Sitting at her desk in her room, she grips her pen tighter and tighter. It's a miracle it doesn't snap.

Just write it. Just get the assignment over with. Do the damn assignment, she mentally tells herself, but her mind won't let her focus.

She's thinking about you.

And nothing else.

You.

How long has she been sitting here? An hour? Two hours?

She glances at her phone. And then the paper again. Back and forth. Groaning, she slumps back in her chair, dropping the pen onto the desk.

The stupid assignment can wait. All the noise in her mind can't be quieted.

She grabs her phone off her desk, checking the notifications. Nothing.

You haven't called her today. Or yesterday. Or the day before. Nothing for days.

But why?

She doesn't care.

She doesn't. Why should she? You did what you did, and that was that.

Jinx's head is spinning with thoughts. Anger, confusion, hurt, frustration. She's angry.

She's angry at herself for falling for your stupid words.

She's angry at herself for believing the stupid lies you told her.

She's angry at you for everything. For making a fool out of her, for lying to her face.

What an idiot.

She is such an idiot. Trusting you, caring for you, even liking you. You of all people.

You were just like all the others, but this time it hurts more.

It hurts a lot more.

Maybe if she never trusted you. Maybe if she'd just been more careful, listened to her gut more, then she wouldn't be in this whole mess.

She wouldn't be so mad.

And frustrated.

And angry.

Maybe she wouldn't be sitting in her room staring at her phone hoping to see one notification from you. Maybe she wouldn't feel like her heart was stabbed.

Jinx's fingers itch.

She wants to call you. To tell you off, to scream at you, to curse at you.

But what good will that do?

None, of course.

She's just wasting her time.

A knock at her door interrupts Jinx's thoughts. “Jinx?” she hears, recognizing her sister's voice. “Can I come in?”

Jinx huffs, spinning to look at the door. “Yeah, come in,” she mutters, turning back to her paper. She feels the door open, the floor creaking with each of Vi's footsteps.

Vi has a warm smile on her face and a steaming cup of coffee in one hand. “Want one?” she asks, holding out the mug.

Despite everything that's happened lately, Jinx manages a smile, but it doesn't reach her eyes. “Thanks,” she says, taking the mug in her hands.

“No problem.” Vi takes a seat on Jinx's bed. “How's prom?”

Jinx grimaces, taking a sip of the coffee. It's still hot, but at least it's good. “It's fine.”

“Just fine?”

”Yeah.” Jinx shrugs, setting the mug down on her desk. “Fine.”

Vi furrows her brow at Jinx's response.

Jinx gets up from her desk and plops onto the bed beside her sister.

“I know what happened.” 

Jinx stiffens at her words. She doesn't look at her sister, refusing to meet her eyes as she picks at a loose thread on her bedsheet.

“I know something upset you,” Vi continues. “You think I don't know you? you're my little sister. I can tell when something's up.”

This isn't what Jinx wants to talk about right now. Everything is still too fresh. “I don't want to talk about it.”

Vi places a hand on her back, rubbing small circles. Not saying anything, Vi waits patiently.

“You're annoyingly good at getting me to talk,” Jinx mutters.

“It's my sisterly intuition.”

Jinx rolls her eyes, then looks up at the ceiling. This is Vi. Her sister. Jinx feels comfortable with Vi. Her sister's done so much for her.

She knows she should tell her what happened eventually. Sooner rather than later, but she just can't deal with it right now. Not yet.

“Is it about that girl?” Vi asks.

…

The silence in the room is answer enough.

“Ah, I see.”

Jinx sighs. “It's…” There are a million words that flash through her brain. Stupid. Idiotic. Infuriating. “Complicated.” 

“I thought you two were doing good. What happened?”

Jinx hesitates. How can she explain what just happened? How can she put into words the hurt, the anger, the betrayal she's feeling?

She looks down at her hands, toying with her fingers. “I thought we were too. Things were going well. I really thought, sis. I really thought-” Her voice cracks, and she immediately stops. “...it hurts, Vi.”

Vi's eyes soften. “Oh, Pow.” She wraps an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. “Hey, hey, it's okay. It's alright.”

It's not alright. It's not alright at all.

She wants to cry. Scream. Hit something. Anything to make this feeling go away.

But all she can do is lean into her sister's embrace, feeling her sister's hand rubbing her arm. “Why does it hurt so much?”

“Well, it's because you really cared about this girl.”

Maybe she did. Maybe she cared too much.

Everything was going well. She felt happy.

But it was all fake.

“She was... she made me feel good,” Jinx says. “I—I thought she liked me, y'know? like, really.”

She really thought that. Despite everything in her mind telling her things couldn't possibly be true, that it was all a lie, a fantasy, she let her guard down, letting herself feel things she thought she'd never get to feel.

And it felt good. It felt great, actually.

Vi sighs. “Maybe. But I saw the way she looked at you. And that... wasn't fake.”

It was hard to miss the way you looked at Jinx. How you looked at Jinx during the drive when you couldn't keep your eyes off her in the rearview mirror. She's seen the way you look at her, how your eyes linger too long on Jinx's every move. And she's not dumb. She was also there during the party, and she saw how you looked after Jinx, how you cared for her.

Vi knows.

“Can I give some sisterly advice?”

And there it was. The advice. The sisterly wisdom. The “words of the wise” moment.

Normally, she'd roll her eyes. Normally, she'd make comments, tease her sister.

Instead, Jinx nods.

Vi continues. “You know I worry about you. You know I just want you to be happy, yeah?”

Jinx nods again. Vi has been there for her since they were kids. After everything Jinx has gone through, Vi's been her rock and her source of comfort.

“I know you really like this girl,” Vi says. “So I'm not going to tell you that everything happens for a reason and all that mumbo jumbo bullshit people say to make themselves feel good.”

Good. She doesn't want any of the positive bs. She hates those phrases people use to try to comfort someone.

“Instead, I'm going to tell you the truth. You're hurting over this. It's going to hurt for a while. Maybe a long while. You feel betrayed, angry, sad, and hopeless, and feeling those things is okay. You shouldn't feel guilty for having emotions. Let yourself feel every feeling. You're not just angry. You're not just sad. You're angry and sad and helpless, and-”

“And stupid,” Jinx interrupts.

“And stupid,” Vi adds. “But don't bottle it up. Talk about it. Vent. Scream. Cry. Scream at a pillow. Cry into that pillow. Let it all out.”

Jinx is quiet. She lets her sister's words sink into her head.

“It's not going to feel good. And at first, you're going to wonder why you're hurting so much, and how you could have been so stupid. But one day, you're going to wake up, and instead of hurting, you're just going to be angry and sad.” Vi gives her a squeeze on the shoulder, and she speaks slowly. “Over time, the anger and sadness will start to fade, and then, only when you least expect it, you're not going to feel any of it anymore. And you'll wonder when you stopped feeling it. It just happens one day… it just happens.”

Her sister's words only serve to further confirm what she already knows—she's going to hurt, she's going to feel like crap. But someday it won't matter anymore. Someday it'll just fade away. It would just happen.

But she refused to hope.

Not this time.

You fooled her. You tricked her good enough.

And yet, the words her sister said made her feel lighter, like a little of the pain had lifted away.

—

Caitlyn looks around, looking for a specific bright blue-haired and then-

“Jinx.”

Jinx pauses in the courtyard, slowly turning around to look at Caitlyn. She glances at her before looking away and adjusting her backpack.

“Can we talk?”

Jinx says nothing, instead keeping her gaze on the side.

Caitlyn continues anyway. “I know it looks bad-”

“You think?” Jinx snaps. “You think it looks bad?”

“I didn't mean for you to get hurt.”

“Oh, you didn't mean to, did you?” Jinx steps forward. “You just thought you could throw money at someone and have your way like you always do. You thought nobody would get hurt.”

“I know… I messed up, and I'm sorry,” Caitlyn replies. “But I only did what I did because I care about Vi, and I wanted to-”

Jinx scoffs, dropping her backpack. “You wanted what?” she sneers. “Was it your plan to send me straight to the damn therapist?”

“Wh-No!” she stammers. “No! Nothing like that. I-” Caitlyn stops. The courtyard is eerily silent. She looks around, noticing how many people are watching.

Jinx could hear them whispering. Whispers of “oh my god” and “what's happening?” and “is that really Caitlyn?” and more.

“Caitlyn, what are you doing here? …and Jinx?”

They pause at the familiar voice. Caitlyn and Jinx turn their heads to the voice that interrupted them... Cassandra Kiramman.

Mrs. Kiramman makes her way over to the girls, looking at the crowd of eyes around them before ushering them inside.

“Office. Now.”

The two girls have no choice but to oblige.

—

Mrs. Kiramman folds her hands on her desk and looks at the two girls in front of her. “I never thought you would do something like this, Caitlyn.” 

“Yes, I did it! Okay?!” Caitlyn exclaims. “I'm the shitty person here. I just… wanted to date Vi, and I paid someone to take her on a date so I could get closer to Vi. And yes, that makes me the most horrible, evil person on the planet.” She turns to Jinx. “I really, really messed up. I shouldn't have done what I did to you. I'm sorry.”

“This is not a conversation I expected to have with you, Caitlyn.” Mrs. Kiramman shakes her head. “This is a serious case of... emotional manipulation, I would almost say. You should be old enough to know better.” Mrs. Kiramman's eyes turn from Caitlyn to Jinx. “Do you have a response to all of this?”

“Oh, yeah, sure. I guess, like...” Jinx's hand twitches. “Am I supposed to feel better now? or do I have time to, like, think about it?”

Mrs. Kiramman purses her lips together. “You should feel offended. And you should be upset.” She looks at Caitlyn. “And you should feel upset, too.”

Caitlyn nods. “I do feel upset,” she says. “I feel really awful. Incredibly, awfully awful.”

“You should,” Mrs. Kiramman replies. “Hopefully that means something to Jinx. But I want Jinx to say something.”

Jinx's looks at Mrs. Kiramman to Caitlyn, then to the floor. She scowls at the ground. “I am… upset,” she mutters. “I guess. I mean... yeah, I'm pissed.” She looks at Caitlyn. “I'm pissed.”

“Jinx-”

“NO! Don't try and talk me out of being mad or upset about being used. Because I am mad. I'm extremely pissed, actually.”

Mrs. Kiramman holds up a hand. “That's good,” she replies, stopping the two girls from snapping at each other. “It's good that you're mad. And you have every right to be, Jinx. Caitlyn has been... extremely selfish.”

“Mom…”

“Don't mom me,” Mrs. Kiramman replies sternly. “You know I'm right, and I'm not going to be soft on you. You were incredibly selfish, and you should never do this again to anyone else. Ever.”

Caitlyn winces but nods. “I... I won't.” 

Mrs. Kiramman leans in on her desk. “Jinx?” She waits for Jinx to look at her before continuing her question. “Is there anything you'd like to say to Caitlyn?”

Jinx looks at Caitlyn. The other girl looks like a kicked puppy. Caitlyn at least looks guilty, though she feels like her guilty look only proves her manipulation.

She wants about a thousand things to say to Caitlyn. She wants to rip her head off and shove it up her ass. She wants to scream, to punch, and to kick until she's in tears. But for now, one sentence will do.

“Stay away from my sister.”

“What? No, I-”

“Stay. Away. From. My. Sister.” 

Caitlyn sputters. “Jinx, listen-”

“You listen! You were willing to pull this bullshit on me. So if you seriously think I'm going to stand by and let you anywhere near Vi after this, you're out of your goddamn mind.”

“Jinx, please-”

“I'm going to tell you once and only once: Stay the hell away from my sister and stay the hell away from me.” Jinx stands up. “I don't know what sort of twisted fantasy you've cooked up in your head, but I'm sure as hell not going to be a part of it.”

Caitlyn looks stricken. “Are you serious?”

“Of course I'm serious!” Jinx snaps. “I'm not a piece in your stupid game of chess, and I'm damn sure not going to be something you play with just to get close to my sister. I don't know if you know this, but my sister means a lot to me. So if your goal was to get in my bad graces, congratulations. You've succeeded with flying colors.”

Caitlyn flinches and looks more stricken than before. But Jinx doesn't care about how bad she feels right now. This is Caitlyn's own damn fault. Caitlyn didn't think that there'd be any negative consequences from her actions. Jinx isn't going to make this easy on her.

—

You walk through the hallway, past students laughing and chatting with each other. Some talk amongst themselves, and you overhear snippets of conversation. But it's all just noise to you.

Nothing matters.

Without her, nothing matters.

You stop in front of your locker, but your eyes linger a few steps away.

Just down the hall is her locker.

It's the same as every other locker, painted white. The only things different are the crude doodles and the pink and blue stickers scattered across the metal door.

It's been a few days since the incident, a few days since she ran away, a few days since it all went wrong.

You haven't seen her since.

After what happened, after screwing things up so badly, you can't even bring yourself to say anything to her. You didn't call. You didn't send texts. You avoided places in the school you know she hangs out in. You didn't do anything.

You can't face her.

You can’t even think about facing her.

Because how could you?

How could you after what you did?

But that doesn't mean you don't think about her. You can't think about anything else.

You are not who I thought you were.

Those words.

They echo in your head.

Those words, over and over, and over.

You keep seeing her in your head. The look on her face, betrayed, heartbroken. You hear her voice, the way it cracked as she spoke. You remember the sting in her eyes that wasn't quite tears, but close enough.

You caused that.

You did that.

So many things replay in your head, and all end with the same conclusion. What you did sucks. It sucked, and it hurt Jinx. It hurt her, and it's not fair. Not one bit.

You open your locker, staring unseeing at the mess of books and notes inside.

But… you're just staring. You were supposed to take out a book for your first class, but you forgot which one you're supposed to grab. You forgot.

Or maybe your mind just can't think of anything that isn't her.

You can picture the way she looks when she laughs. You can hear her voice in your head, talking to you, asking or saying something, but not loud enough for you to make out what the exact words are.

You can just picture it, her smiling wide, showing teeth. A laugh breaking out on her face, and she laughs because of you. You were the one to make her laugh that way. Not because of a prank or some stupid joke. No, you actually made her laugh.

Sometimes you think you spot her in the distance, but it turns out to be someone else. Then something else reminds you of her. A song that plays from a speaker, some colorful drawings on the wall, blue hair amongst a sea of people.

But you're not ready to face her.

You don't know when you will be.

The bell suddenly rings, and you jump slightly.

Right.

Class. You have a class.

Shaking off the thoughts, you pull out the books you need from your locker and throw them in your bag. Slamming your locker door shut, you head down the hall.

You shove past other students in the hallway, not caring about how rough you are. People give you weird looks, maybe even whisper behind your back. But why should you care?

The only person that you should have cared about… hates you.

Hates you. That's the harsh truth of this, isn't it?

You reach your first class, sitting in your usual seat. You toss your bag onto the ground and lean your head on your hands.

Jinx is already here, but she doesn't look up.

You watch her out of the corner of your eye. She's leaning her head on one hand, the other one propping open a notebook. Her eyes and fingers are reading the page, but you doubt her mind is actually focused on the text. You doubt she's even reading it.

Mr. Salo enters, and he does a double take. He looks stunned to see you in class on time. “I assume everyone's had some time to finish up their poems.” He clears his throat. “Would anyone volunteer to read their poem aloud?”

No one responds.

Then-

A voice speaks up suddenly. “Um. I will.”

Your head snaps upwards. Jinx has her hand raised.

Mr. Salo looks surprised, but he recovers quickly. “That's… quite unexpected. I was sure I'd have to force someone to volunteer, but-” he gives Jinx a pleasant smile. “Thank you, Jinx.” He gestures to the front of the class, motioning for her to come up. “Please proceed.”

Jinx stands up, pushing her chair back. Then she makes her way to the front of the room. She looks around, looking at everyone before her eyes drift towards you. She quickly looks away, down at her notebook, and begins to read.

I hate the way you talk to me

And the way you cut your hair.

I hate the way you drive my car.

I hate it when you stare.

She pauses for a moment, swallowing down something before continuing. You can see she's gripping the paper on her notebook rather tightly.

I hate your stupid, dumb Madonna CD

And the way you read my mind.

I hate you so much it makes me sick.

It even makes me rhyme.

Her eyes flick to you again, and then she looks away.

I hate it...

I hate the way you're always right.

I hate it when you lie.

I hate it when you make me laugh,

Even worse when you make me cry.

Her voice cracks, and a tear starts to stream down her face.

I hate it when you're not around

And the fact that you didn't call,

She pauses, taking deep breaths to keep herself from crying.

But mostly I hate the way I don't hate you,

She finally looks up, looking straight at you.

Not even close

Not even a little bit

Not even at all.

Her poem ends there, and her voice quiets. For the first time since she began, there's silence in the room. Everyone else seems to notice, glancing at the other.

But you're stuck staring at Jinx. Your eyes meet hers. Nothing is said, but the moment is enough.

She closes her notebook, turns around, and walks out the door. The rest of the class is dead silent.

You remain seated, your eyes glued on the door where Jinx had left. Seeing her cry like that... 

You couldn't turn back time, no matter how much you wanted to. But you made your bed, and now you need to lie in it.

You have to do something to try and make it right.

—

After the last bell rings, students hurry out of the school carrying backpacks and sports equipment. Classes were over for the day, and thankfully, so was her stupid english class. 

Reading that damn poem in front of the entire class was a relief. She got it all out without having to talk to anyone else. It was so embarrassing having everyone know about her stupid thoughts and feelings, but if they made fun of her for it, they would get a punch to the face. At least this school year will end soon. 

Jinx walks to her car, parked in a corner of the parking lot. She opens her backpack and digs through it, her fingers searching through papers and pencils and other stuff until her hand closes around her car keys. She lifts it up, the keyring rattling.

When she's about to stick the key in the door, she notices something is off.

The driver's side window is down.

Confused, she leans down to look inside the car. She saw something.

Warlock guitar. Sitting in her seat. It was the same one she had been dreaming about. The same one she had been eyeing in the store. The one she could never justify the price or reason to buy. And now, it's right in front of her. 

—

You watch as Jinx picks up the guitar carefully, studying every inch of it.

“Pretty nice, right?”

Jinx gasps. She spins around to see you standing behind her, grinning widely.

Her eyes flit between the guitar and you. “Is it for me?” She sets the guitar back in the passenger seat before closing the door.

You nod your head. “For you, and only you.”

“...why?”

“Uh, well, I thought you could use it. You know, when you start your band,” you reply. “Besides, I had some extra cash.”

She narrows her eyes at you. “Why'd you do it? Why the guitar?”

“I… I want to apologize and please—please listen to me just this time.”

She raises an eyebrow at your words but says nothing yet.

You hold up your hands as she glares at you. “Okay, okay,” you start. “You're right to be angry with me. I did something really, really shitty and stupid. And I'm sorry for it.” You look down, avoiding her gaze in shame. “I shouldn't have taken Caitlyn's money. I shouldn't have done it, just for a stupid cash for a stupid deal. I was being selfish and not thinking about how you'd feel.”

You glance up, expecting her to be scowling and yelling at you.

But she isn't. She's just listening.

It gives you the courage to continue. “I—I should have just been honest with you about everything. I knew it was wrong, and yet I still... and I didn't stop myself. No matter how many times I tried to, I just…” You pause, struggling to say how you feel. “I couldn't stop myself from falling in love with you.”

You look at her again, and the corners of her lips twitch as she tries to keep the grin from spreading across her face. “Really?”

You weren't one to stay serious for too long, were you? you step closer to her, your eyebrows shot up, a smirk on your lips. “It's not every day you find a girl who blows up a classroom with fireworks just to get you out of detention.”

She covers her face with her hands and groans as she tries to hide the growing smile on her face. “Oh, God.”

You tried to soak in every inch of her face. If someone had taken a picture of her then, you could easily have stared at it for hours. She's beautiful—truly beautiful when she smiles.

You reach out and place your hand over hers, pulling it away from her face. Her smile fades, but she doesn't struggle with your touch as she looks at you.

“But it was pretty damn awesome, wasn't it?” you add.

You lift your hand and push a strand of her hair behind her ear before leaning in and pressing a kiss to her lips.

She lets you kiss her, closing her eyes and pulling you close. But it doesn't last long as she pulls away suddenly, her brows furrowing. “You can't just buy me a guitar every time you screw up.”

You grimace. “Yeah... I know. But then we can go to a drum set. Or a bass. And, eventually, a tambourine.”

You lean in for another kiss, but she breaks away, continuing to talk. “And don't just think you can-”

You don't allow her to finish. You shut her up with a kiss, your lips muffling her complaint.

Jinx's eyes widen for a second before she closes them. Her hands grip your shoulders. She's not pushing you away—she's pulling you closer. She melts into the kiss, letting her tongue slip out as her hand threads through your hair. 

You move your hands down her sides, tracing the curve of her waist, holding her.

Her other hand cups your face, fingers stroking your cheek.

You back her up against the driver's side door of her car, pinning her between the car and your body. You pull away to let her breathe, a thin string of saliva connecting your bottom lips with hers.

Jinx's face is flushed and her lips are swollen. She's panting, her hands tangled up and gripping your shoulder. “I'm still…” she says breathlessly. “I'm still mad at you.”

You chuckle and kiss the tip of her nose. “I know.” You take her hands in yours, fingers tracing over her knuckles. You bring her hand up, kissing the back of her hand. “I'll make it up to you.”

Jinx looks down at your entwined fingers, then back up at you. “As you should.”

—

“1, 2, 3, CHEESE!”

Click.

The camera flash goes off, and you press a kiss on her cheek. Your arm rests across her shoulders, and she's clinging onto your hand, grinning at the camera. She giggles, and you feel her nuzzle herself into your side.

Vi smiles behind the phone. “You two are nauseatingly cute,” she says as she puts her phone down.

You glance over at Jinx. The years have passed, and she's graduated. Now she's wearing an academic cap and a black gown, with her diploma in her hand.

Your heart swells with pride. Seeing her achieve her dream made you happy.

Jinx looks just as happy as you are. She held the diploma tightly, her fingers delicately holding the edge of the paper. “Can't believe I did it,” she whispers to herself. 

You give her hand a squeeze, offering silent reassurance.

You remember how hard she worked to get to this point. Late nights spent studying, long hours spent in the library, the stress and anxieties she dealt with.

But she did it.

She did it because she worked her ass off, and she earned it.

You're so proud of her.

You give Jinx a kiss at the temple. Then, you take your arm off her shoulders while you pull something out of your pocket. “I have something for you.”

“Mhm?” She tucks the tassel back under her cap and turns to face you. “What is it?”

You grin as you hold up a...

“A ticket?” she asks, confused.

You hand the ticket over to her. She furrows her eyebrows, then opens her mouth to ask, but then notices something. She looks back at you, then down to the ticket in her hands. She scans over the details, her eyes widening.

“Sweden?”

“Sweden,” you confirm. “And.” You pull out a second ticket from your pocket. “All expenses are paid for. Including the flight, the food, and the hotel room we're staying in.”

Jinx can't form any words, stunned into silence. She just stares at the ticket, flicking the corner of the ticket with her finger.

“I remembered that you said you wanted to see the northern lights. So I thought this…" You motion at the two tickets, “would be the perfect graduation gift.”

“You… you're serious?”

You nod and take her hands in yours. “I wanted to give you the world,” you say, running your thumb across her knuckles. “But seeing as I can't, I settled for the next best thing.”

Jinx says nothing. She's still staring at the tickets. You expect her to have a big, happy smile on her face, but instead, you're surprised to see her eyes beginning to fill up.

You're starting to worry she doesn't like the gift. Did you mess up? “I can get you a different gift if you don't like it,” you say hastily. “If you-”

You're cut off by Jinx throwing her arms around your shoulders, nearly tackling you in a hug. She buries her head in your neck, her arms wrapped around your torso. Her fingers grasp the back of your shirt, holding on tight. Her body trembles, and you feel tears wetting through your shirt.

“Oh.” You're taken aback, but you relax and return the hug. One hand comes down to rest on her back, holding her close to you, and your free hand finds its way to her head. You thread your fingers through her hair while you rub soothing circles across her back. “What's wrong? Did I-”

Jinx shakes her head, her sobs slowly subsiding into quiet sniffles. “N-no, no, it's n-not that...”

“Then… what-”

She raises her head, and when you look at her, you see she's now a mess of runny makeup. “It's the best present I've ever got.” She takes a breath, and you wipe some of the tears from her face. “It just… it means so much to me that… you remembered what I said that day.”

“Of course I remember everything you say.” 

Jinx closes her eyes as you use your thumb to wipe the smeared mascara under her eyes. “I love you so much,” she chokes out.

“I love you too.” Your other hand comes to her face, where you wipe the rest of the lingering teardrops and rub your thumb underneath her eye.

Vi lets out a cough, drawing both of your attention to her. You had been so caught up in the moment, you entirely forgot she was there. “Well,” Vi says with a smile. “...that was cute.”

Jinx looks like she's ready to cry for a whole new reason. She gives you a final squeeze before releasing her arms from around your shoulders and stepping away. She straightens her cap.

“Don't.” You reach out and fix her cap, adjusting it on her head.

Jinx lets out a watery chuckle and smacks your hand away. “Quit babying me.”

“Never,” you reply, and you steal a quick kiss.

Then, Jinx turns her head to her sister. “Vi, we're going to see the northern lights,” she tells her.

“Yes, I heard,” Vi says.

“Look!” Jinx shoves the ticket into her face. “We're going to Sweden. We're going to see the northern lights.”

“I know,” Vi replies, taking the ticket and looking down at it. She grins. “Congratulations, Pow. You deserve this.” She puts the ticket back into Jinx's hand. “You better appreciate that gift,” she teases. “Not a lot of people get such an awesome gift.”

“I do,” Jinx says. “I appreciate it a lot.”

“Good.” Vi looks between the two of you, then gives you a stern look. “Keep spoiling her. And I won't punch you.”

“Got it,” you say with a nod.

Jinx hugs the tickets to her chest, already imagining the sights. The northern lights, the snow, the cold temperatures, Sweden.

It's going to be amazing.

“This is going to be the best trip of my life.”

You smile at how excited Jinx is. You look at Vi, who's watching the two of you. Vi's expression softens. She smiles and nods approvingly, and you can see how much she loves her sister, how much she loves seeing Jinx happy.

“Well, I hope it lives up to your expectations,” you tell Jinx, wrapping an arm around her.

“No matter what, I'm spending it with you, so it already will be.”

End.

notes: OH HOLY GAH DAMN WE'VE FINALLY REACHED THE END!! I want to give an enormous, heartfelt thanks to each and every single one of the wonderful people who were supporting me, leaving likes, and most importantly, taking the time to comment! Your feedback honestly fueled my caffeine-driven writing sessions. Now, I love these two ladies way too much to say goodbye to them that easily, so i'll be writing some side stories to keep my stupid brain happy.

taglist: @axolotl-arsonist, @crvcified-kinx, @axoluxy, @dyslexic-dreamer, @urdeadpoet, @iluvshifting, @shootingc, @freementallyillkid, @tr3nzit444s, @powderbomb-jinxed, @chickennuggetsaresootasty, @multiliker, @rick-grimes-girl, @angelsglitch, @blobfishyy @writtenbyhollywood

[utilitycaster]

edit: thanks @wardensantoineandevka for sending me the post I reference below but couldn't find at the time, it's this one and I will also be reblogging it separately because you should all read it.

while I'm thinking about Downfall I really have been thinking extensively about the ongoing discussion of fandoms and particularly centering/prioritizing white queerness and more generally one's own experiences (and I cannot find one of the best posts about it, which is not by me) because, as I've said before, but notably about Circle of Needle and Thread and Downfall, Brennan is somehow known as The Communist DM and also at every opportunity his messages of class-based oppression get pushed aside by fandoms. In D20, the message frequently gets flattened into Capitalism Is The BBEG (to the point that D20 has somewhat depressingly caved to it) but in doing so generally erases the human element - the discussion becomes dominated by the terminally online anticapitalist types who really do want to treat capitalism as the BBEG that, once killed, everything will be fixed, rather than part of a complex system to be dismantled in a manner that preserves the most human lives. In Candela Obscura: Circle of Needle and Thread, Sean's story explicitly about losing everything to the wealthy and powerful was shoved aside by fans cranky that his character wasn't made explicitly queer and in love with Marion. In Downfall, Aeor's exploitation was acknowledged by fans but its imperialism conveniently forgotten in order to focus on those powerful within the system who hated the gods, not the poor of the city nor those on the surface, without protection, being used as nothing more than a source of cheap labor.

And the thing is: I obviously do not think that the world is lacking in empathy nor opportunity for straight cis white men, but the fact that people cannot take Brennan and his experiences as someone of a lower class - the most tame palatable version of that too, as in addition to being a straight cis white man he is educated, a native English speaker, sober, and housed his entire life - without needing to twist it into something closer to their (often middle-class) experiences or existing worldview is depressing and telling, and it has not improved. This was an issue with Campaign 2 (the post I cannot find touched on how Fjord and Veth's stories were cast aside or only engaged with using heavy headcanoning to make them more like the viewer because they were not explicitly textually queer, despite being explicitly racialized and about class) and it's gone metastatic in Campaign 3, and it really needs to stop.

I am hoping, still, that Campaign 3 serves as the endpoint of this sort of selfishness, and its fans will have some sort of realization (or, more likely if less good for the world, will leave this fandom to terrorize another) but I will say if this continues in C4 I will personally be calling it out in the moment - no more vagueing, if you say you're nauseated by someone bringing up their personal experiences with colonialism that happen conflict with your feelings about your blorbos you're getting nailed to the wall by name then and there and what happens to you is your business.

[bunnyreaper]

the price we pay

kinktober 10 - fuck machine

dom!ghost x sub!reader x sub!soap

(18+/mdni, fuck machine, cuckolding vibes, bondage, degradation, negotiated kink, anal)

Belonging to Simon Riley brought with it a litany of mysteries, both large and small—it's a privilege and a burden you and Johnny both willingly signed up for. 

Simon was always the first (and often only) one to know things in your relationships—plans, observations, feelings, they'd all sit inside his head for weeks or months, waiting for the perfect opportunity to come out. Over time, you've learned to spot the signs of a brewing plan or ruminating thought. This one you picked up on fairly quickly, having made a game of it with Simon. 

Simon sits across from you, lonely on the loveseat as you lounge on the couch, lost in his phone with a focused squint. It's nothing unusual, the two of you spending time together peacefully coexisting in silence—but you sense something amiss.

"You're planning something." You whisper, eyes glued to him as he taps at something on his screen. 

He pauses, gaze connecting with yours as he stares you down, resolute with a slight smirk on his face. "Yeah, and?" 

"How long now?" You ask.

"3 weeks." 

"I'm getting faster, Simon!" You punch the air in victory, kicking and flailing your legs in a delighted little dance that makes your lover smile. "Okay, continue, I won't ask any more questions." You giggle as you bite your lip and turn your attention back to the TV, willing yourself to not think about the surprise. 

So you weren't caught completely unaware when one day an oversized, nondescript box was delivered to the door. Johnny's away on an assignment without you both, meaning whatever it is could only belong to Simon, and likely part of whatever he's been working on over the past several weeks. 

Johnny went away aware something was coming, but not knowing what—because unlike Johnny, Simon could keep a secret from his lovers. You've been resorting to unfair tactics with Simon, waiting until he's in his blissed-out, post fuck state to probe him gently. 

You lay draped across Simon, both of you completely bare as you cuddle up—his hot cum still oozing out of you. 

Now's your chance, you think. Simon's always more relaxed post-sex, and you're not going to ask too much. 

Threading your fingers up to his hair, you stroke his scalp and smile as his eyes slip shut. "Is it a gift?" 

"I suppose." He whispers, eyes cracking open as he eyes you wearily, you can see the cogs turning as he debates giving you an inch, and worrying you'll take a mile.

You study him intently, wondering if you can chance another. "For me?" 

"For all of us." He reaches to your chin, tilting it as he leans in for a breath-stealing kiss that silences any further inquiries. "Now that's enough." 

You nod, beyond satisfied as you snuggle back into Simon's chest and try to temper your excitement.

The package arriving perfectly in time for the day Johnny gets home from his mission is very suspicious. 

You'd both spent the afternoon cuddling Johnny on the couch before Simon disappeared upstairs with his box and ordered you both to stay out of the bedroom until he allowed you in. Johnny had probed you for what you knew, as he tried to come up with ideas for what it could be. 

"Mebbes it's a puppy, I'd like tha'" Johnny comments idly as he plays with your hair, stroking through it as he snuggles up behind you.

You giggle, but shake your head, not convinced by that theory. "I'd hope he wouldn't keep a puppy in the box for that long, plus surely it would've made a noise by now." 

"Hmm." Johnny hums. "King size weighted blanket?" 

Simon's eyes had lit up when you had mentioned it in the past. "Ooh, one we can all snuggle under." You wriggle back into Johnny, imagining the comfort of being cuddled up with your boys and blessed with the extra weight. Then again, you didn't really need a weighted blanket when you had them.

You hear Simon's footsteps as he starts to come back downstairs, and you turn over to shush Johnny with a kiss. "Quiet, don't get us in trouble." 

"Aye, lass." 

After an afternoon of soft closeness and conversation, the three of you would usually take this time to head to the bedroom and fuck the missing parties' brain's out, to catch them up on everything they've missed—but the atmosphere is so different, knowing whatever Simon has been planning is just waiting for you upstairs. 

When Simon nods in the direction of the stairs, you both obediently rush to your feet, heading upstairs as he leads the way. 

"Johnny, be a good boy and go take a shower for me." Simon's voice is a stern command as he reaches the landing and stops Johnny from entering the bedroom. "I'll come and get you when I need you, yeah?" 

"Yes, sir." Johnny nods, his eyes widening as they connect with yours. 

Separating the two of you isn't a good sign for what's to come, and your stomach flips with fear as you're led into the bedroom wordlessly.

"Simon?" You ask, voice hesitant he starts to grab some of the items he's prepared. The whispered name doesn't get a response, so you try again. "...Sir?" 

Simon stops dead in his tracks, turning to you with that expression, the one that tells you his slipping into his dom mindset—head whirring with his plans, with considerations for all of your safety and welcome, and with anticipation for what's to come. "On the bed, now. Clothes off." 

You freeze for a moment, swallowing thickly before you rush to throw up every garment you're wearing—they're hastily discarded on the floor, only to be collected and folded when Simon hits you with a stern look. 

Once you're bare, you lay on the bed, uncertain of what's to come and yet trusting in the other man completely. 

Simon repositions you as he wants you, turning you over on your stomach before pulling up your ass into the air.

The large object at the foot of the bed covered by the sheet hasn't escaped your attention. "What's that?" 

Simon follows your gaze, to the covered mound. Silently, he pulls away the covering to reveal the contraption underneath. 

A fucking machine.

"Wow, fuck. What are you planning?" You gasp, already squirming in anticipation.

Simon steals your focus, turning your head back into the bed. "You'll see." 

His hands run over your naked behind, trailing down your legs before he gets to work gently attaching a spreader bar to your ankles—preparing you to be able to take the dildo attached to the machine. When he's done securing your ankles, he gets to work on securing your wrists together so you're truly helpless. 

You squirm as you feel the lube drip onto your exposed holes, his finger working the slick into your pucker and preparing you. Your head spins, as you begin to anticipate the machine fucking your ass, until you feel the cold metal of a plug and Simon's hand holding your rear. He works slowly, opening you up on a finger or two until he can get the plug inside.  With that done, he leans over, close to your head. 

"Love you." He mumbles as he presses a kiss to the top of your head. "Safeword?" 

"Red." You confirm, relishing in the feeling of being so safe with your boyfriend and dominant. "Love you too, Si."

"Good girl." 

He gives you a once-over, checking everything is in place, before he moves away. Next, he gets to work on moving the machine, you can just see in your peripheral as you crane your neck that he's moving things around—and then you feel the tip poke at your entrance, positioned so carefully so as to not truly enter you.

"Fuck." You shiver with anticipation, trying to wiggle back onto it only to be met with strong hands stilling your hips. 

You're already so needy, you're barely able to think of how the evening might unfold or what this will all lead to. Right now, you just want relief.  "Are you gonna turn it on?" 

"Not yet." 

You crane your neck to watch as Simon leaves the room, leaving you exposed and anticipating. 

The conversation between him and Johnny in the bathroom is muffled, barely audible over the blood pumping in your ears. 

When they make it to the room, Johnny is being led by Simon, due to the silk wrapped around his eyes. Simon lays him face down on the bed next to you, pulling off his towel and leaving him exposed alongside you. Johnny's already rock hard in anticipation, his cock rubbing against the mattress.

"Why's he blindfolded?" You ask, brain trying to piece together what is happening, what Simon has in store.

Upon hearing your voice, Johnny's hand twitches, wanting to reach out to touch you but knowing instinctively he isn't allowed. Were it not for the blindfold, the two of you would at least be able to share meaningful looks.

"For the surprise." Simon mumbles, as he starts to gather lengths of rope to tie Johnny up with—by the looks of it, your boyfriend was going to be bound head to toe beside you. 

"Oh, so I shouldn't ruin it?" You giggle, teasing Simon with the fact you could disobey and give the game away before he's ready. 

Your words are met with a scoff, and you watch Simon scowl as he pauses. "Not unless you want to trade places with him." 

As Simon gets to work tying Johnny's arms and legs, you realise very quickly that the last thing you want is to trade places with Johnny—at least you're seemingly in more of a position to get pleasure tonight, whereas it seems Johnny might get denied. You also realise that when the blindfold comes off, Johnny's going to be fucking furious. 

"Am getting tied up, ooh." Johnny coos, his tone playful as his lips curl into a smirk. 

You watch, fascinated, as Simon works deftly, securing the black rope over every inch of Johnny's gorgeous body. 

"If it helps, Johnny, I'm a little restrained too—ow!" You don't get to finish your sentence, as Simon cuts you off with a sharp spank. 

"What did I say?" He growls, attention turning to you for a moment to fix you with a steely glare. 

You pout, but bite your tongue from giving any further hints—you know what's good for you, after all. "Sorry, I won't give anything away, sir. Promise." Hopefully, the groveling will keep you in Simon's good books. 

"Yeah, could still be anything." Johnny comments, conspiring with you to keep you out of trouble—bless him. You had a feeling the two of you won't be so allied in a few minutes. 

It becomes clearer to you with each second that this setup is one of Simon's games to play you against one another, and tonight you're the lucky one, rather than the punished. Of course, it's all only temporary, and in the spirit of everyone's enjoyment—outside of the bedroom, you all try your hardest to never create imbalances between you.

"Jokes on us, he's gonna tie us both up and leave us in here, so he can get some peace, Johnny." You joke, trying to keep the mood fairly light.

"'m getting close to it." Simon is back to grumbling, as he finishes up his binds on Johnny's limbs. "Safeword?" 

"Red." Johnny confirms, his expression turning more serious. 

Simon presses a kiss to his forehead before he gets to work on undoing the blindfold."Love you." 

"Love you—" Johnny's words are cut off as his eyes flicker open, and he takes a second to crane his neck around to take in the scene beside him. "—bastard." 

"Don't like what you see, Johnny?" Simon chuckles, low and full of mischief, as he walks toward the bottom of the bed, standing near the machine that is so close to working its way inside you. 

"Fuck you." Johnny snarls, his eyes looking angered and desperate as he meets your gaze. He is, as you expected, furious.

And you hate that his reaction makes you leak—he wants you so bad, and he's being denied, completely at Simon's mercy. 

You want to get fucked so bad, whether it's by Johnny or the machine or Simon, you don't care. But tonight, you know the only thing getting stuffed in your cunt is the dildo on the fuck machine. "Please, sir, please turn it on." The words rush out of your mouth before you can stop them, need coursing through your body.

There's a low growl from both men before Simon speaks first. "Tell Johnny how much you want it." His words are accompanied by him adjusting the dildo at your entrance, getting ready to grant your wish.

Johnny's eyes soften when you look to him, but the fury within is still evident. You hope he sees the softness in your eyes too, hope he can see how helpless you are right now under Simon's spell that is making you complicit.

"Johnny, want it so bad... fuck." You wiggle once more, trying to get any kind of relief. Johnny grits his teeth through the next part. "Tell him to turn it on for me, please."

Another growl from Johnny as he thrashes against the mattress, unable to really do anything at all. "These fucking ropes, as soon as I get—" 

His sentence is interrupted by your moan, loud and uninhibited as the dildo breaches you, working itself in at a tortuously slow rhythm.

Simon is messing with the controls in your peripheral. "How's that?" 

"Slow." You whine, desperate for more already. The machine picks up its pace, fucking into you more steadily as it strokes against your insides. "T-thank you." 

Simon makes his way back to the side of the bed, standing behind Johnny as he taunts the man with his touch, stroking his face delicately as if to subdue and tame a wild animal.

"Is it better than him?" Simon asks, leaning into your field of vision.

You look up at him, mind hazy and unsure what response he wants. Does he want you to humiliate Johnny for him? Is he going to make you say you prefer the machine just to exert his power and control?

Simon senses your hesitation, your need for guidance in this moment, and his hand comes to stroke your face, much like he is already doing with Johnny. "Just looking for the truth, pet."

Your eyes flicker back to Johnny's, noticing the way they shine with something other than anger—fear and humiliation, as he waits for your response. Poor, sweet Johnny, already being broken down into submission by Simon. 

"... No." You whisper truthfully, gaze fixed on Johnny, so you can catch his relief. 

Simon tuts, walking back to the controls to turn them up as if to try and change your mind. "Shame."

The machine's pace increases, ramming the dildo into your cunt faster and faster and forcing the moans out from your pretty little mouth.

Johnny turns ferocious once again. "Yer not seriously gonna leave me here while a machine fucks ma girl instead of me?!" He pleads, desperate and mad and so confused, and yet still working his hips into the mattress for relief. 

"Your girl?" Simon snarls, returning to tug at the roots of Johnny's hair until his head is floating off the bed. 

Johnny swallows, winces at the sensation, and attempts to correct himself. "Our girl." 

Simon throws his head down with little regard, as if he's disgusted to even have touched your other boyfriend.

"My girl." His voice is all growl, threatening and territorial as he crawls onto the bed, ignoring Johnny and his need in favour of yours. "Here's how this is gonna go, Johnny. You're gonna be a good boy and stay there." 

You hear the cap of the lube open, and slick sounds as Simon lubes up his cock—both you and Johnny are breathless in anticipation. 

Simon's fingers then work the plug out of you, and you know exactly what is coming next. You're about to get double penetrated, while Johnny lays there and watches, powerless to stop it. He's wanted both men to take you at once for so long, only to be denied. 

Now it was going to happen without him. 

You feel Simon nudge his cock at your pucker, spreading around the lube there and chuckling at Johnny's livid reaction.

"You're gonna stay there, and me this machine are gonna fuck her better than you ever could."  

[soldearestsoulmate]

Character + Prompt/Request:

Sol x GN!Reader, for the beginning, then Sol and GN!Reader (spoiler. you break up)

One angsty torturing of Sol coming right up! pfff <3 (More could of been added to this...A continuation? Maybe Reader comes back...Even after all the red flags there, and suspecting what was done...What if they still come back? Only time may tell. lol)

Warnings: Attempted drugging with sleeping pills, manipulation, toxic relationship.

“Why would you put so much hope in me? Things have clearly never worked out for me!”

Rarely he rose his voice at you, unless he really was affected by his emotions, which clearly he was right now.

You've heard him say this before though, done this before. Over and over again, things go well, then they fall, then you work to try to rebuild it all with him, for him.

You loved him, you did. Cared for him deeply. But everyone has their limits, and you finally reached yours.

"You're right...They haven't, and maybe it's a sign this won't work out after all." His eyes widened at your words. He opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out at first. Then he started to panic, you could see it clearly, he quickly grabbed your hands, with pleading eyes.

"NO! THIS WILL WORK! IT WILL! IT HAS TO! YOU'RE MY SOULMATE AFTER ALL! WE'RE MEANT TO BE!" You felt his hold tighten, it was starting to hurt...

"Sol...Maybe you've been wrong though? What kind of soulmate can't make their love truly happy?...Help them with their problems when needed most? Make them more happy than sad, and feel more love than sorrow? That's no soulmate...at least one you deserve. You deserve better."

"No no no please don't say that. Don't believe any of that. I'm sorry! I'm sorry I keep screwing this up! I keep making it hard for you, for us! But I'll try, I'm trying! I'll do better. I'll--I'll try therapy again. I'll talk to Hyugo and--"

"And what? We repeat this all over again? Sol...Please...You know we've been hanging on by a thread for too long...I love you, I really do but...I love you too much to keep making you suffer like this...I...I can't stand to see you hurt anymore...And I know I'm mostly to blame for it all..."

"NO! YOU'RE NOT! IT'S HIS FAULT! ALL ICHABOD'S FAULT! EVEN AFTER RIDDING OF HIM HE STILL--"

"...What?"

Sol let his grip go, taking a step back, realizing what he said. "I mean...I..."

"Sol...What about Crowe? What do you mean 'ridding of him'?"

"P-pumpkin...I can explain. Let me just--" Sol attempted to hold your hands again but you stepped back, moved away from him. Eyes widened in confusion and fear.

"...What happened to Crowe? Solivan, god help me if you did something to him--"

"Pumpkin please! I swear it's not like that! Just let me explain and--"

"Then explain right now what happened to him. Explain or I will call the cops." Sol felt his heart skip a beat and tighten from your threat. Yet he forced a smile, trying to act calm.

"Of course...But let me please make you a drink, some tea, it'll help calm you while I explain...Okay? Please..." Sol's pleading eyes never failed to have a affect on you...So you nodded and let him go get that drink for you.

As Sol left the room, he texted Hyugo, a simple text, saying "They found out." sent out and then he put the phone away to focus on you.

He went to the kitchen to prepare that tea he promised, but pulled out something he thought he'll never have to use again.

"...You just need some sleep, pumpkin. I promise you. It'll all be better soon." He softly said this as he mixed in the pills into your drink. Then looked at the drink in his hands. He knew this had to be done, but wished it didn't come to this again. "I'll make this better again. I promise..."

After a moment of making peace with this decision with himself, he made his way back to the room where you were at.

"Here you go, pumpkin. One warm cup of tea made with lov--" Sol froze as he entered the room, to see no sight of you. Then saw the window wide open, your one and only exit taken. He didn't even care about the cup of tea he dropped, that both shattered and spilled over his shoes.

All he was focused on now was running to the window, to look around outside, in hopes of seeing you but you were nowhere to be found.

"PUMPKIN?! Y/N!" His breathing quickened, his heart raced, he felt his panic rising more as he started to pace the room. Looking for a sign of where you could of went. He even flipped the house upside down for a possible chance of finding you, hoping you were just hiding but you weren't there. You were gone.

Then with trembling hands he grabbed his phone to try to call Hyugo but kept messing up. He was scared, not over you getting the cops after him though. He was scared of losing you, of you being away from him.

He wasn't thinking straight anymore. He left the house in a panic now to look for you, to find you and bring you back home. To make this all right, but you wouldn't be found...Not anytime soon that is...

So he'll just run, and search for you for hours, calling you out, begging and pleading for you to come back. All while he ignores Hyugo's panicked texts and calls...

[melanchol1cs]

LAMBS TO THE SLAUGHTER, iv.

leon kennedy x religious f!reader

word count: 4.1k summary: god hates what he can’t have. masterlist | taglist | wips

previous chapter

18+ MDNI. DEAD DOVE. themes of religion, manipulation, religious rationalization, age gap(reader is 19, leon is 27), leon being mean for like a split second, kissing, virginity loss, fingering, praise, unprotected sex. this is pretty self indulgent, sorry.

a/n: okay so this might be the last chapter of lambs to the slaughter… i really don’t know how i want to end it so yeah, and i’d rather just wrap this up now that i still like writing about it than force myself to continue with no interest whatsoever. but i do have alot of wips and a few ideas for new series that i look forward to sharing w you guys soon :) thanks so much for the support on ltts, love all of you sm, and hope you all have a great christmas <3

he doesn’t know how it happened or how you ended up here, on the couch, with your arms wrapped around his neck and his hands tangled all up in your hair.

its’s the middle of the week and you went over to his place, like you usually did when your parents were out for work, and now you’re here, your breath hot against his neck and your body pressed close so to his. and it’s all he can focus on. you. you’re all he wants.

the two of you had kissed before, the first time being roughly two weeks ago when you came to him crying, your eyes were red and puffy, and fresh tears were streaking down your cheeks.

the next thing he knew, he had already smothered you with his mouth. it was hard. rough. messy.

when he pulled away, you almost immediately started to complain to him that it was wrong, that the two of you would go to hell for kissing before marriage, and he had to shut you up with another deep kiss before having to talk you through the fact that it wasn’t a bad thing and that the two of you were not gonna go to hell for it, seeing the tears start to swell up in your eyes again.

the coffee mug now sat forgotten on the coffee table, the drink now cold and untouched.

the way your hair feels, tangled between his fingers, as he threads them through the strands.

when he finally pulls back, you're both breathless. your lips are swollen, your hair is mussed, and your clothes are rumpled.

"hey," he reaches up, gently brushing his fingers through the strands of your hair. his other hand slides down your lower back, pulling you flush against him. you're quiet, your eyes fixed on his throat as he speaks. your breathing's harsh, and your body's tense.

“what's wrong?" he asks, his voice soft. you don't answer. can't answer. the words are lodged in your throat, threatening to choke you. all you can do is shake your head.

he kisses you again, his mouth slanting over yours. he shifts you slightly on his lap, so that you're settled on one of his thighs, one leg on either side of it. this new position allows for even closer contact. your body molds against his, fitting together like two pieces of a puzzle. his hands slide up your waist, his fingers gliding over your back, leaving trails of warmth in their wake.

“leon,” you shiver at the contact, his name falling from your lips like a plea.

his hands tighten on your back, fingers digging in just enough to ground you. “hmm?" he asks, his voice soft, but with a hint of something else. his hands move, one cupping the back of your head, the other on your hip, rocking you softly against his thigh.

one of his hands moves to your knee, gently pushing it forward. the action forces you to spread your legs slightly. the other hand's still on your hip, holding you in place. the hand at your knee begins to drift upward and under your dress, fingers dancing on the skin of your inner thigh. you tremble at the touch, your body reacting before your mind has a chance to process what's happening.

"feel good?" he murmurs against your ear, his breath hot on your skin. the question is rhetorical, and he doesn't wait for an answer.

fingers slip further beneath the dress, fingers splaying across your lower back and creeping up towards your bra clasp.

you try to complain, to object, but all that comes out is a stuttering mess. words jumble in your head, and your mouth refuses to form the right sounds. it's almost as if you've lost the ability to speak, overcome by your body's reaction to his touch.

“what’s wrong, baby?”

his fingers reach the clasp of your bra, and he gently unsnaps it. your body betrays you, arching into his touch despite your protests. his fingers find the underside of your breasts, and you jolt at the sensation.

“leon,” you whisper, voice barely audible. “leon, please… don't want to do anything wrong,"

"baby, there's nothing wrong with this," he murmurs, his breath hot against your ear. "do you trust me?” fingers slip under the waistband of your panties, and you tense, ready to push him away.

"please don't..." you shake your head, unable to find the right words to say. "what if... what if god doesn't understand?"

he pauses at your words, considering them for a long moment. "god gave us free will," he says finally, his voice soft but resolute. "and i think he'd be pretty damn disappointed if we didn't use it." his fingers continue probing into your clothed cunt, tracing the lace trim of your panties, his thumb rubbing slow circles on your clit through the fabric. you tremble at the contact, your hips shifting slightly of their own accord.

you arch into the touch, your back bowing, and your breath catches in your throat.

"doll," he whispers, the word is almost lost in the kiss he presses to the sensitive skin just behind your ear. "look at me."

you can't, can't bring yourself to do so. your eyes are screwed shut, and your face is flushed.

"c’mon, baby, open your eyes." he prompts again, his tone gentle. and when you refuse to comply, he stops moving his fingers altogether, leaving his thumb pressed to your clit through the lace of your panties.

the pressure is just enough to make you squirm, a constant stimulation that leaves you teetering on the edge.

he gently takes your chin in his hand and tilts your face up towards his. slowly, almost hesitantly, you crack your lids open, peeking through the slits.

"please," you whine, your voice high-pitched and desperate. failing to hide the need and desperation stirring within you. you can't form words, can't string together a coherent thought with his skilled fingers wreaking havoc on your senses. instead, you let out a feeble whimper, your head thrashing from side to side as pleasure mounts within you.

“there you go,” he coos, as if praising a small child for completing a task.

"see?" you search his face, seeking some sign of deception, but find only sincerity and unwavering devotion. "nothing bad is happening. it just feels good, that's all." your lashes flutter, struggling to obey. and yet, you yield. your body melting into his touch, and your head tilting back to rest against his shoulder. leon's hand slides up to cradle your face, his thumb caressing your cheek as he whispers reassurance against your hair.

"breathe for me, baby," he whispers, his lips brushing against your temple.

"it's alright," he soothes. "i've got you." your head starts to spin, and your heart pounds in your ears. your skin feels too tight, like it can barely contain the heat rising to the surface. his fingers finally find the edge of your panties, and with a swift motion, his thumb rubs against your clit, and you jolt, a strangled moan escaping your lips.

“leon,” you whine out, his name torn from your throat. his fingers continue their assault, rubbing and pressing against your cunt.

he chuckles low in his throat, the sound vibrates against your body. “yeah? you like that?”

you nod, unable to speak.

his tongue plunders your mouth, taking what he wants. you submit to the kiss, your body pliant against him.

you're sprawled across his lap, your legs draped over each other, your skirt riding up your thighs. his hands are everywhere at once, palming your breasts, teasing your nipples, rubbing your clit. you're panting, your breath coming in harsh gasps.

your skin's flushed, your cheeks burning, and your heartbeat's pounding in your ears. "fuck," he mutters, his eyes locked on yours.

two of his fingers swiftly push inside of you, and you cry out, your body bowing off his lap, nails digging into his thigh. he holds you steady, his other hand gripping your hip.

"relax, princess," he coos. "so tense."

you squeeze your eyes shut, your body trembling. his fingers move, sliding against the slick walls of your pussy.

you tremble and shake, your body trembling like a leaf in a hurricane. his fingers move, curling and straightening, rubbing against that one spot inside of you that makes you see stars. "lemme hear you, baby," he prompts. "make some noise for me."

you whimper, a broken, keening sound escaping your lips. he chuckles low in his throat, the vibrations of the sound seeming to reach down and press against your clit. "that's it, such a good little doll f’me. feels good, doesn’t it?"

he's right, it feels amazing. you've never felt anything like it before. his thumb is relentless against your clit, your hands fisting in his shirt. you're lost in a sea of sensation, his fingers and thumb working your cunt like it's the most important thing in the world.

“there you go, baby," he murmurs. "just a lil' more." you're not sure what he's asking for, not really. but you feel it in your bones, in the way your entire body is tightening up like a coil spring.

"lemme hear you," he prompts, his voice low and gravelly.

and then you do. you scream, the sound ripping from your throat as your body convulses and spasms. your vision goes white, and for a moment, you're weightless, floating in a sea of bliss. when you come back to yourself, you're slumped against him, your body limp and boneless. he's still rubbing your clit with his thumb, his fingers still curled inside of you, milking out every last wave of pleasure.

"so pretty when you cum," he breathes, his lips brushing against your temple. "so beautiful.”

you can't form a coherent response, not that you'd know what to say. your brain's gone mushy, and all you can do is sag against him. his fingers slowly withdraw, and you whimper, feeling the empty ache of your spent cunt.

“i wanna try somethin' else," he starts to maneuver you. "c'mon, baby, let’s get this off you," he says, pulling your dress up and off.

you don't protest, letting him strip you naked.

he helps you scoot further up the couch, until you're more reclined, your back pressed against the cushions. he settles between your spread thighs, his body looming over yours.

he positions himself at your entrance, the thick crown of his cock notched against your slit. he pushes forward, and you feel him start to penetrate, your body resisting his invasion.

"aah—“ you whimper, forehead creasing.

"n-no, don’t.." you try to protest, but it comes out as a moan. he chuckles softly, the vibration of his laughter sending shivers through your body.

"’m not doing anything wrong," he reminds you. "think you're forgetting that you’re the one who came to me."

his hands grip your knees, holding them back as he sinks more of himself inside of you. you whine, the sting of the stretch causing you to gasp. but it's a good stretch, like after waking up from a long nap. he sets a slow, deep pace, his hips rocking against yours. your hands reach out, grasping at his shoulders for balance.

"shh, 'm sorry, baby," he grimaces, his pace slowing. "gotta break you in real quick, ‘ts only gonna hurt a bit.”

you try to push against his chest, but he's too strong. he keeps pushing forward, forcing his way into your resisting body. the intrusion is painful, making you instinctively flinch and and jerk away.

"jesus, just fuckin— fucking relax, okay? you're only makin' it worse for yourself,"

he leans down, claiming your mouth in a deep, hungry kiss as he bottom's out, buried to the hilt inside of you. "mmpff—“ you mewl against his lips.

your cunt clenches around him, trying to coax him deeper. he groans into the kiss, the vibration of the sound sending tingles through your body.

he starts to move, his hips rocking against yours in a slow, deep grind. you're still sore, still stretching to accommodate his size, but with each passing moment, the pain fades, replaced by a growing sense of pleasure.

"feels good, doesn't it?" he asks, his voice a low rumble. "i know, dolly. i know,”

he nuzzles against your neck, his lips brushing against your skin as he sets a slow, easy pace. his hands slide up your legs, your thighs, your hips. one hand comes back up to hold your knees, pushing them down to spread you open.

"gonna take my time with you, princess," he murmurs, his lips brushing against your ear. "work you open, nice and slow,”

he's huge, and it hurts, but there's something else, something that makes the pain worthwhile. pleasure, building at the base of your spine.

he sets a slow, deep pace, his hips rocking against yours. your hands reach out, grasping at his shoulders for balance. you take a shallow breath, and then another, your body starting to unclench. he starts to pull back, sliding out of you, and you whine in protest. but he's just switching it up, angling himself and pushing back inside. and this time, it doesn't hurt so much. in fact, it feels downright good.

"you gotta breathe, baby," he pants, forehead pressed against yours. "just f'get about it. breathe."

he kisses you again, the movements slow and languid, like he's savoring something delicious.

you're not sure how long he works you open. it could've been minutes or hours. time seems to blur together into nothingness. at some point, he tilts his hips, and you feel him nudging against a spot inside of you that makes your whole body jerk. he does it again, and again, until you're writhing beneath him, your fingers digging into his shoulders.

"yeah, baby, that's it," he groans, forehead pressed against yours. "show me how bad you want it." you try to speak, to tell him that you don't know what he's talking about, that this is all wrong. but the words won't come.

all that comes out is a keening moan, a sound that's equal parts pain and pleasure. he's still easing you open, stretching you in ways you never thought possible. but it's no longer painful, not in the way it was before.

it's... pleasant. yeah, that's the only way to describe it. pleasant and good and right.

"fuckin’ hell, look at you, baby. takin' it so good, you were made for this, doll. made to take my cock," he starts to speak, his words a stream of praise and nonsense, but you barely register what he's saying. the words are distant, a blur of noise as your focus narrows down to the sensations raging through your body.

his hips are moving in a blur now, slamming into you with a rhythmic intensity that's pushing you towards some unknown precipice. he's saying things, praising you, telling you how good you look, how perfect your cunt is wrapped around his cock.

the words are lost on you, drowned out by the escalating tide of pleasure.

“i knew you'd fit me so good," he pants, his hips snapping harder now, driving deeper. "every inch of you made just for me. so perfect ‘nd pretty. and this perfect fuckin’ cunt... fuck, baby... tightest pussy i’ve ever had…" his words are a blur, a stream-of-consciousness praise that washes over you in waves. you can't process them, not really. all that matters is the feeling of him inside of you, stretching you wide, hitting that spot that makes sparks fly behind your eyes.

your nails dig into his shoulders, your back arching off the couch as he pistons in and out of you, each thrust driving you closer to the edge. your inner muscles are fluttering, clenching around him like a vice, urging him on.

"s'not fuckin' fair," he grunts, his pace faltering for a moment as he fights for control. he's chasing something, you can tell. his movements become jerky, erratic, like he's on the verge of losing control.

"feels too fucking good." he regains his composure, redoubling his efforts until the room is filled with the sound of flesh slapping against flesh and your high-pitched moans.

the pleasure builds and builds, coiling tighter and tighter in your gut until you're sure you'll snap. he's hitting that spot inside of you again and again, and you're teetering on the brink — it's all too much, and yet, somehow, not enough.

"please," you whimper, not even sure what you're begging for.

"yeah, baby?" he prompts, his hips stilling deep inside of you. "whatcha need?" you can't form the words, not really. your voice is hoarse, barely above a whisper. all that manages to slip out is:

"more."

his hips flex, and he slams into you again, the force of his thrust sending you sprawling back against the cushions. you gasp, your eyes widening as he bottoms out once more, his cock buried to the hilt inside of you.

"so greedy," his hips start to move again, slowly at first, but picking up speed as he senses your desperation. "atta girl.”

each thrust jars you to your core, and you can only cling to him, your nails raking down his back as you're fucked into oblivion.

his fingers weave through your hair, holding your head still as his lips trail over your face. he kisses your eyelids, the bridge of your nose, your cheekbones. each press of his mouth against your skin is gentle, soothing, a contrast to the roughness of his lovemaking.

"easy, baby," he coos, his voice a low, rumbling vibration against your ear that seems to seep into your very bones.

his fingers tighten in your hair, holding you as he peppers you face with a series of gentle, soothing kisses. he's a paradox — the way he's caressing you, holding you, so gently, delicately. but the way he’s been fucking you is anything but.

you feel the change in him, a subtle shift in his movements, his breaths. he's close, you realize, and so are you. there’s that coil in your stomach, something that’s warm and fluttering, building towards something you can't quite reach yet.

“leon, leon— feel weird, again..” you stumble on your words.

"weird's good, doll. means you're gettin' there,” he assures. “just... f'get about it. breathe,”

at the same time, he picks up his pace, his hips slapping against yours with a rhythmic intensity that threatens to shake the couch apart.

"gonna cum soon," he warns, his words a guttural groan, his thrusts even more erratic. "when i do, i want you to let go for me, 'kay? just... just fall apart," he buries his face in the crook of your neck, his hot breath washing over your skin.

"gonna fill you up," he grunts, his voice strained. "make a mess of your perfect little cunt.”

and your body responds, as if driven by an outside force. your muscles lock, your back arching impossibly high. your cunt spasms around him, milking his cock for all it's worth as it finally rips through you. a blinding, white-hot rush.

his cock throbs inside you, his hips stuttering against yours as he finally reaches the same peak.

hot strings of cum paint the inside of your walls as he empties himself deep inside you. he stays buried inside of you for long moments after, and you’re not sure exactly how long. but when you finally come down from the high, you find yourself draped across his chest, his hands rubbing slow circles on your back, your sides, soothing you as the aftershocks slowly dissipate.

you're a puddle of warmth and satisfaction, your body splayed beneath his, his softening cock still buried deep inside of you.

you're still limp and pliant in his arms, your breath coming in soft pants against his chest.

he shifts slightly, easing his himself out of you with a soft squelch. you flinch at the sensation, and he notices, his grip on you tightening as he pulls you into his arms. he strokes your hair, your back, your sides, his touch gentle and soothing.

"stay a little longer, alright? just... a little bit more," he asks, his tone sweet and pleading. you blink slowly, trying to clear the haze from your mind. it's hard to think clearly when he's speaking to you like this, his words dripping with affection and adoration.

he's saying things, nice things, telling you how amazing you are, how perfect you are for him, how much he needs you. it's all a blur, a warm, fuzzy haze that surrounds you, envelops you. it makes you feel cherished, special, like you're the only person in the world.

and you feel like you'd do anything to please him, to make him happy.

your mind flits to the clock on the mantle, its numbers seeming to mock you. you should go home, you know that. your parents will be back soon, and you can't afford to be late again.

“leon… i can’t,”

“c’mon, baby," he whispers, his breath hot against your skin. "just a few more minutes,” you swallow hard, your pulse fluttering in your throat. it makes you weak in the knees, it takes everything in you not to give in to his request.

“but—“

his arms tighten around you, holding you impossibly close as he nuzzles into the crook of your neck. "please, doll," he murmurs in a low, honeyed tone that seeps into your very bones. "i need you. just a little more time, 'kay?" his words are a gentle persuasion, a tender plea that tugs at your heartstrings.

he's been so gentle with you, so caring. "i'll make it up to you," he promises, his lips brushing against your earlobe. "i'll take you out, wherever you want to go. just... stay with me a little longer, okay?”

the room feels smaller somehow, as though the world itself has shrunk to the space between his heartbeat and yours. your lips part, the beginnings of another protest forming, but the weight of his gaze stops you short. there’s something in his eyes —dark, pleading, a flicker of vulnerability that you can’t quite name.

“okay,” you whisper at last, the word barely audible, a ghost of sound that slips past your lips before you can think better of it.

his face softens instantly, relief washing over his features like a summer tide. “yeah?” he breathes, his smile curling slow and dangerous, like he knows he’s won.

you nod faintly, unsure of what exactly you’ve just agreed to, or why it feels both terrifying and impossible to resist. your thoughts churn, hazy and fragmented, but his fingers are already lacing through yours, grounding you, tethering you to this moment.

“that’s my girl,” he murmurs, his voice a low, velvet hum that sends shivers down your spine. “i knew you’d understand.”

you close your eyes, letting yourself sink further into his embrace. it’s too easy, the way his words coax you into letting go of the worries clawing at the edges of your mind. for now, it feels safe — his arms, his voice, the way he holds you as if you’re something precious, something he can’t bear to let slip away.

he pulls you closer, your head resting on his shoulder, your legs tucked up against him. you can feel his heartbeat against your cheek, steady and strong. "rest, baby," he soothes. "you had a long day.”

tags: @crowleyco @withonly-sweetheart @fanilkychae @clitorphosis

[a-writer-on-elm-street]

Can I please ask for a smut Damon request using this picture. Imagine distracting Damon whilst he’s concentrating on a phone call to ric and he punishes you for being a naughty girl for interrupting his call and pins you to the bed . Sorry I’m just a very naughty minded girl when it comes to Damon 😜

Apologise

a/n: thank you so much for the request i loved writing this!! hope you enjoy! <3 (also, i'm so sorry it took so long)

pairing: damon x fem!reader

warnings: smut, fingering, unprotected sex

word count: 644

You chuckle against Damon's skin, your lips dragging along his stomach as he squirms beneath you, his phone pressed to his ear.

You can hear Alaric's muffled voice coming through the speaker as you hook your fingers under the waistband of Damon's jeans, prompting him to curse at you under his breath.

But he doesn't make a move to stop you, only attempting to stifle a groan as he keeps his phone to his ear.

And you find yourself stifling a laugh when you hear Alaric ask if everything's okay.

"Yeah, Ric," Damon says, his voice strained as he squirms beneath you. "Everything's great. Nothing wrong here."

You find it all the more amusing by how hard he's trying to cover, despite the fact that he's practically groaning into the phone, one of his hands absentmindedly playing with your hair.

Once you manage to pull his pants off along with his boxers, you waste no time in wrapping your hand around his length, eliciting a startled sigh from him, his hips jerking into you from the contact.

"Are you sure you're okay?" You hear Ric ask him, and it makes you chuckle.

Damon glares at you as he speaks.

"Yeah, Ric, everything's fine." He assures him again, readjusting himself slightly beneath you. "But you know what, I uh─I might have to call you back."

Before you're even able to wrap your lips around him, he's threading a hand into your hair, pulling you up so that you're face to face with him now.

"Were you not aware that I was on a call?" He asks, pressing his mouth into a line as he looks at you.

"I was aware."

"Hm." He hums, twirling a finger through your hair. "What am I gonna do with you?"

Before you have a chance to offer him any suggestions, he's flipping you onto your back, his fingers snaking around your throat as he hovers over you.

"As much as I loved your hand around my dick." He smirks, his free hand trailing down your body. "You really shouldn't interrupt my calls like that."

"What're you gonna do about it?"

He doesn't offer you an answer, and instead you feel his fingers slide beneath the waistband of your jeans.

"Now, you've been a bad bad girl," he tuts, pressing a finger against you through the fabric of your panties. "And bad girls get punished."

You laugh. "And how is this a punishment?"

"Oh, you'll see." He smirks, sliding his hand inside your panties, his fingers swirling around your clit.

You sigh, throwing your head back into the pillows when he pushes a finger inside of you.

Except, he doesn't move, instead choosing to remain painfully still, a wicked smirk on his face as he looks down at you.

"Damon," you whine, looking down to where his hand had disappeared in your jeans. "Come on."

"What? I'm not doing anything."

"Exactly, you're not doing anything."

"What would you like me to do?" He asks, a knowing grin on his face as he moves his hand ever so slightly against you. "You want me to fuck you?"

"Yes," you sigh, nodding your head at him.

"Apologise."

"What?"

He smirks. "You interrupted my call. Apologise."

You continue to resist, shifting uncomfortably beneath him, but he won't let up.

"If you apologise," he says, slipping his hand out of your jeans now. "Then I'll give you what you want."

"Okay, I'm sorry," you finally say, giving in.

"That's right."

And with that, he's flipping you over onto your front, his hands already tugging your jeans off. And within seconds, he's inside you, already moving at a brutal pace as he holds you up, rough fingers digging into your ass.

"God," you moan, your mouth twisting into a smile as he fucks you. "I'm so so sorry. So sorry."

"And I forgive you."

[Main Masterlist]

[moon-buggg]

SCP au drabble

set a week after YN gets taken to the facility, basic au info here

warnings: yn was kidnapped by an offbrand scp foundation after they didn't get killed by Moon and thats whats being discussed and im not sure how to tag that. Yn is a little emotionally dumb, flirty sun

no word count because I wrote this in the tumblr post maker in a frenzied haze

-

"You are stuck here... because of us?" Sun asks, carefully, tentatively. His, frankly, absurdly tall body hunches over so he can be at eye level. Under any other circumstances, you'd be terrified of the strange creature trying to comfort you. As is, his presence is incredibly comforting; the sole friendly face in a sea of questionable actors.

"I mean, pretty sure they expected Moon to kill me," Sun flinches just slightly, ears tilting ever so slightly back, "so I don't think I was ever meant to leave this stupid place, anyways."

You'd fallen asleep in the darkness of what you now know as Sun and Moon's room, and had awoken to several researchers and armed guards preparing you for a barrage of tests. Those first few days had been a horrible mess of exhausting tests and tedious interviews as your white-coated captors tried desperately to discover what made you different.

Why you'd survived.

They still hadn't found anything, but at least the tests seemed to be slowing down ever so slightly. After an uneventful introduction to the more passive, daytime version of the thing they expected to kill you, it was decided that you'd be allowed to visit him once every other day.

Jury seemed to still be out on if it was worth risking another encounter with Moon.

"It's not your fault," you add after a beat of silence, "or Moon's for that matter. You're both trapped here just as much as I am."

A soft, crooning sound rumbles out from Sun's chest as he slinks back into a seated position that leaves him still about a head taller than you. Gentle lights pulse across his fur, barely visible under the harsh fluorescent lights. He seems to struggle to find the right words, before giving up.

Carefully, as if approaching a startled animal, he reaches out a hand. When you don't react to the long claws coming at you, he continues. Turning over his hand to keep those sharp claws decisively away from you, he runs his knuckles over your head in a clear attempt at a comforting gesture.

It's startling how much it works.

"Oh starlight, far too kind for a place like this." His voice is soft and quiet in a way that makes your face feel warm. You choose not to think about it too hard. "You shouldn't be locked away."

"Neither should you." The words are harsh and automatic, and seem to startle Sun who draws back as if burnt. His glowing fur brightens significantly, its starting to get uncomfortable to look at, actually.

He recovers quickly.

"There you go," the words are teasingly chiding, "proving me right starlight." He reaches a long claw out again, this time using his knuckle to gently boop your nose.

He bends, using his long neck to crowd into your space. It's hard not to feel a little threatened by those big teeth so close to your face, and Sun's widening smile does little to help. Seems like you can't help but feel flustered today.

"At least you'll have me to keep you company." His voice is just a bit too hopeful, like he's desperate for you to agree. Poor guy seems utterly starved of positive affection. The urge to comfort him is hard to ignore, so you don't.

It's easy enough to thread your fingers into the long mane of fur that frames his face. The feeling is distracting, it's so warm...

Movement brings you back to the moment as Sun leans ever so slightly into your touch. Right, right, you had a reason for this.

"We're in this together," you say in what you hope is your most sturdy, comforting voice. Sun's presence has done a lot for you in the few days you've been here so far, and you want to do your best to be a comforting presence to him in return. You don't miss the way his fur seems to glow brighter and hotter at your words.

Acutely aware of where your hands are, you realize that grabbing a giant monsters face out of no where probably wasn't your best idea.

"Sorry!" you quickly release Sun's face, your own face hot with embarrassment, "Sorry! I shouldn't have just grabbed you like-"

"We didn't mind, starlight," he interrupts, pulling back out of your personal bubble. His hand ghost over where you touched, smoothing the fur back down, "no, don't mind at all."