#i could go on and on about these three I had to dump something or I was gonna go insane

[m4iya]

⋆⑅˚₊ Order up! - Strawberry Muffins with cookie dough to eat in for @ailurophile

Club Manager ft. Tetsurou Kuroo (fluff)

w.c 2k

Spoilers for the Battle at the Garbage Dump movie!!

“It’s already our second year, are you sure you aren’t going to join a club at all?” The girl spoke while glancing over at her friend, whose head was slumped on the table.

It wasn’t like she didn’t want to at all, but the thought of asking would be too embarrassing. It was already the fourth week of school, and everyone seemed to have joined a club already. She hadn’t joined one in her first year, so how would she gain the confidence to join one now?

“It’d stand out on your resume” She grinned convincingly.

“I know..” The girl groaned. “It’s hard for me to just waltz up to an already established club and ask to join.”

“You can be so awkward.”

“I know.”

Though, it seemed someone had overheard her from across the classroom, as when she was packing her bag for the day, she was approached by a timid boy.

“Um.. I overheard you and your friend from across the class..” He spoke with a soft tone, avoiding her gaze. She titled her head in confusion.

“About?”

“Joining a club.”

“Right..” She chuckled.

The boy stuck his hand into his pocket, taking a phone out. “We have a spot at the volleyball club. The team is looking for a manager.. I can call our captain if you want to join” He offered.

“Oh! Um… I don’t really know much about volleyball. I’ve never even seen a game, I don’t think I’d be much help.” A nervous laugh escaped her lips.

“It’s fine. I had to start somewhere too.”

Nodding in agreement, she zipped her bag and slung it over her shoulder. She weighed her options; she could join a club now, and continue with it until her third year. Or she’d reach her third year, having not joined any clubs or made any friends outside her small circle.

And after three whole years, she’d leave school with so many things she could’ve partook in. She’d be the one person who always stood off to the side while everybody else took the opportunity to grow.

“I guess I’ll join.” She smiled warmly.

“I’ll call him then..” The boy’s voice trailed off as he pulled out his phone, dialling somebody. Suddenly, the sound of a ringing phone from outside the classroom inched closer alongside a set of footsteps.

“Is he outside?” She questioned

“Give it a few seconds,” he replied “He’ll probably let it ring out.”

Sure enough, a few moments later, a tall student slid the door to the classroom open. The first thing that stood out to her was his very messy bedhead.

She stifled a laugh.

“Kuroo, this girl said she’ll be our manager.” He said, stepping aside.

“Hello..” She waved.

Kuroo let out a hearty laugh as he walked towards the pair. “Kenma, you actually spoke to someone you didn’t know? Without anyone else?”

“It was for the club.”

As he stood in front of her, she was reminded how tall the third year students were in comparison to her.

“Our new manager?”

“I don’t have any experience, so..” She replied, shy.

“We’ll teach you the ropes!” He grinned, slinging an arm over the boy who looked as though he wanted to leave immediately.

After introducing themselves, the three of them, headed for the gymnasium with Kenma lagging behind. It seemed he was distracted by a game on his phone.

She felt nervous, walking next to this boy who she’d never seen before today. Not to mention how tall he was; if she’d turn her head to the side, his shoulder would block her view.

“Say..” She began, aware of his gaze turning towards her. “Is there a reason why you waited until now to recruit a manager?”

“Well, we usually do all the manager work ourselves.” He admitted. “But for us to grow as a team, we need every member - even the substitutes - focused on enhancing their skills.”

She had never involved herself in something like this before, having no idea that it required this level of perseverance. She wondered if this new role of hers would inspire her to pursue a goal of her own.

“..And why did you wait until now to join a club?” He teased, almost scoldingly.

Warmth crept into her cheeks as she raised a hand to rub her neck, eyes locked onto the hallway in front of her. She didn’t even think about turning to face him – not from this close.

“I don’t know.” She replied with a nervous chuckle. “I guess I’m a bit lazy.”

Through a sideways glance, she caught a glimpse of a smile forming on his lips. “To be honest with you, some guys on our team want a female manager” He blurted out casually.

Eyes wide with surprise, she giggled “What?”

Listening as Kuroo explained the situation with Karasuno’s manager – forming an unspoken rivalry between two boys on each team.

As the minutes passed, her speech began to flow more than usual. She hadn’t expected to be this at ease when talking to somebody new – especially someone who seemed as intense as he did. She found herself sneaking glances at him as he spoke, her gaze lingering longer each time.

He continued, answering her basic questions about volleyball theatrically. The corners of her lips curved upwards as she was unable to stop the constant laughs escaping her as he spoke.

Their walk to the gymnasium seemed to last way longer than any usual circumstance. Their initial brisk pace gradually slowed down.

As he spoke, it was as though he singlehandedly untied the knot in her chest. It was then when she began noticing the smallest things. The way his genuine laughter would sound in her ears, the brightness in his eyes despite their oak hue, the softness in his expression when he spoke of his friends on the team. The way he’d lean over to hear her when she wasn’t clear enough.

Amongst dozens of students passing by, each engrossed in their own conversations, and through all the lingering shouts and laughter, her attention remained focused on him.

And just like that, he introduced her to the rest of the team. Met with a warm welcome, she didn’t feel any of the pressure she had imagined.

She watched as they trained, playing practice matches on a weekly basis with multiple other schools, each team member striving to work on their weaknesses.

Alongside her new friendships with the team members, something separate happened to be blooming on the side.

Whether during class time or practice – it became a joke amongst the team members that if you saw Kuroo, you’d probaby see her, and vice versa.

“Kuroo, eyes on the ball!” Yaku shouted from behind the defence line.

He was usually hyper-focused when on the court. Though, something had uncharacteristically been weighing down his thoughts lately.

The libero’s shout broke Kuroo’s distraction, and with a forward glance, the flying spike rushed into his face and sent him to the ground.

“You okay?” Taketora yelled from the opposite side of the net.

“I’m fine..” He replied, standing back up despite feeling a little dizzy.

“Someone’s been pretty distracted lately.” Yaku teased, walking up to Kuroo and slapping his back.

“Excuse me?” He defensively responds, crossing his arms. “Kenma, you tell them.”

“He’s always talking about our manager.”

“Hey!”               

The rest of the team bursts out in laughter as not even Kenma could disagree that he’d definitely been distracted by something lately.

As if right on cue, she walked into the gym holding water bottles for the team, handing one to each of them as they regrouped for a break. His eyes softened upon seeing her face again, something that he’d been doing subconsciously as of late. Upon handing him a bottle, she noticed his face was visibly wounded.

“Did you hurt yourself?!” She gasped, leaning forward for a closer look.

Kuroo’s eyes widened, darting to the side “I’m good..!” He nervously chuckled, taking a gulp of water. He knew he was distracted and was well aware of how he was acting – especially around her.

Bright lights, roaring crowds and dozens of teams, each representing their prefecture. 52 whole teams. It was one of the first times she’d been somewhere so intense, and although she wasn’t playing, she felt extremely nervous.

Nekoma had made it to the quarterfinals – facing their long awaited opponents. She heard about the rivalry from Coach Nekomata; she could only imagine the stress weighing down on the shoulders of both teams.

Though, she herself had been thinking of something for a while. After clarifying with one of the team members, he confirmed that this would be the last match for the third years unless they make it through.

That also meant her last match as Kuroo’s manager.

She had a feeling that he’d been thinking of the same thing as well. Though, she’d avoided mentioning it. If she was the captain of a team playing a national match that generations had been waiting to see, she’d probably try to drown out distractions.

All she could do was sit on the bench, record details, and  keep things organised for their time-outs.

She watched as each team fought tooth and nail for every point, treating each play like it was their last. The tension weighed heavy, Nekomas persistent defence paired with Karasuno’s intense offence. Every point scored, every set passed inched closer to the conclusion of the match.

Then it came – Karasuno’s match point of the last set. Gripping her book and pen tightly in her hands, her eyes darted across the court, following the course of the ball. Both teams’ exhaustion was reaching its limit.  

She watched as Kenma briskly stepped back, raising his arms for a set as Taketora ran outwards for a quick start to his jump. It all happened so quickly – the next thing she knew, the ball had hit the floor on their side of the net.

Everyone seemed to pause for a moment, taking time to process everything that had just happened in the span of a few seconds.

The whistle sounded, marking the end of the match. She watched as the boys shook hands with the opposing team, not a single one bearing a semblance of anger at the other.

Remaining seated on the bench, her lips began to quiver. She kept her gaze downwards at her feet, her vision becoming clouded by the layer of tears glossing her eyes.

The team then regrouped in front of the coach to hear a few words from him. She stood beside them, unable to look anyone in the eye; she flicked through her book, making annotations here and there to keep herself distracted.

He had noticed her uncharacteristic silence - usually, she’d be all over the place, making jokes and whatnot. Though, he couldn’t say he didn’t understand why she had been so quiet.

As she stood behind the bench, stuffing her notebook and pen into her backpack, she noticed a familiar pair of black shoes in her peripheral.

Looking up at him, she felt tears intensely well up in her eyes, once again distorting her sight.

“Kuroo, I-“

“Not here.” He said gently “Let’s go.”

She followed him as he guided her into the hallway, voices and cheers from the court muffling, and the crowds decreasing. In front of him, she crumbled, tears streaming down her face as she struggled to communicate her feelings.

“Come on, why the tears?” He chuckled, wrapping his arms around her and gently rocking back and forth. “Aren’t you supposed to be the calm and collected manager?”

She sniffed, managing a stifled giggle. Loosening his hold around her, he pulled back momentarily.

She wiped her tears before finally looking up at him. He met her eyes with an expression that read ‘I know’.

“I’ll still be around. After I graduate..” Pausing, his voice softened “..And even after you graduate.”

“It won’t be the same..”

“But it doesn’t mean it’s over.”

Mya's Bakery Event 𝜗𝜚 other works

[pruesgaultier]

a declaration of feelings

desc: singer agatha x actress rio. rio is away filming a movie and agatha writes a song (it’s totally not a love song.)

song used: forever, in this moment.

a/n: welcome to the first installment of my agathario song fic series where I write one shots based on songs from my agathario playlist ! i won't be taking reqs bc i get busy with work and i don't want the pressure of trying to give myself deadlines or trying to feel for songs I don't know, maybe in the future. for now, this is just low stakes fun.

Agatha Harkness sighed as she sat in her home studio surrounded by papers, sheet music and half-written verses alike. She had already tried her usual methods of focusing which included but were not limited to brain-dumping on a white board, petting Senor Scratchy like a Bond villain, writing bad lyrics to good music and good lyrics to bad music, but her mind was too preoccupied. Instead of writing a new song for her band Coven of Chaos’s new album, all she could think of was her girlfriend. Almost 3 years ago, Rio Vidal swept into Agatha’s life like a hurricane and she hated it. 

Well, not really. She hated how Rio not only made her feel other emotions, but she made her want to show them. It wasn’t a super drastic change, but she was much nicer than she used to be…sometimes and she smiled more, a lot more. Rio made her smile, made her laugh, and more often than not, made her think about settling down. 

To put it simply, Agatha Harkness was in love and she hated it, except she really didn’t.

(She just hated that none of this helped her write this fucking song.)

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

After deciding to take yet another break, the singer went to make herself something to eat, she couldn’t cook as well as Rio, but she could make something decent enough. As she moved throughout the kitchen, she found herself mindlessly humming some of the lyrics she had written earlier. 

“My heart’s gone. She no longer lies by my side. She left at dawn and once again I lie alone.” The singer sang quietly to herself. Three weeks ago, Rio left to go to London and even though Agatha spoke to her in every spare moment of their free time, it just wasn’t the same. She missed Rio’s cooking, god did she miss her cooking, but she also missed just being with Rio. No work, fans, or press – just them in their bubble, forever. 

“It’s been three weeks. Your voice is all I have. Awaiting my love’s return.” Agatha continued singing, putting more of the song together. At this point, it felt like the lyrics were pouring out of her and she stopped in her tracks. “Scratchy, I think I finally figured this song out and of course it’s about Rio.” she said, turning to the rabbit with glee. Her food forgotten, she ran back to her home studio, Senor Scratchy hopping behind her. 

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

“You wrote a love song?” her band members exclaimed in unison. Alice Wu-Gulliver, Jennifer Kale, and Billy (just Billy. He didn’t like to use his last name, either one of them because he didn’t want to make his parents, all 4 of them, feel bad.) Agatha resisted the urge to blush. It wasn’t a love song per se, it was more of an expression of her feelings for Rio in song form, but NOT a love song. “It’s not a love song, it’s more of a declaration. I don’t do love songs.” Agatha denied. “The same way how you didn’t do relationships before Rio?” Jen shot back. Agatha let out an exasperated sigh “Look, is it good or not?” she asked. “It’s amazing and I have the perfect music for it.” Alice said, excitedly turning toward her laptop. “This might be one of your best yet.” That did cause Agatha to blush. She’d written one of her best songs and it was about her girlfriend. 

(But it still wasn’t a love song !)

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

“I’m sorry I won’t be there to hear it live, my love.” Rio’s voice came through Agatha’s headphones as she sat in hair and makeup. Tonight, Coven of Chaos were performing Forever – Agatha’s not love song – for the first time. Rio was usually always there during the first live performance, but work kept her away this time.”

“It’s fine. Besides, you’ll be home soon and that’s more important.” Agatha replied, more than understanding about Rio’s absence. “Somebody misses me.” Rio teased, just to see Agatha’s face turn red but honestly she was in the same boat. “Well if these flowers are any sign, I’d say you miss me too.” Agatha gestured to the line of flowers that were delivered to her dressing room, all from Rio. “You bring out the romantic in me.” Rio replied. 

Before Agatha could respond, the door burst open and her manager walked in. “Agatha, it's 5 minutes until showtime, you’re already performing a love song about her, your phone call can wait.” Lilia Calderu, said frantically. 

“It’s not a love song, it's –” “A declaration of feelings.” Lilia, the hairstylist, the makeup artists, and even Rio replied in unison. Agatha scoffed to cover up her flustered state. “You’re a traitor, Vidal.” Rio rolled her eyes affectionately. “Yeah, yeah. I love you too baby. Good luck.” The singer softened “I love you more, my love.” she told her before hanging up.

“I love you too Lilia.” Lilia murmured mockingly. Icy blue eyes glared at her but the older woman ignored her, she was used to Agatha and her moodiness. “Let’s go lover girl. You have to perform your love song for your fans.” 

(Okay, so being in love does wonders for Agatha and she might have written a love song.)

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

The next day, Agatha was in her home studio on live. She doesn’t go live often, but she really wanted to interact and talk with her fans after their support of Forever. She was telling them about her very chaotic time writing the song when a voice sounded behind her. 

“You know if this were a horror movie, you’d be the perfect target.” Rio said, leaning against the wall. Agatha turned around, startled. “Jesus Christ! Rio, what the hell is wrong with you?” The actress smirked, waiting for Agatha’s brain to catch up. “Oh my god, you’re home.” Agatha jumped up making her way over to her girlfriend. “Surprise, m’lady.” Rio held out a flower which Agatha grabbed before kissing her passionately. Rio’s arms instantly went to the taller woman’s waist, pulling her closer. 

When they pulled away for air, Rio glanced at the phone, remembering that they technically weren’t alone. “Baby, the phone.” Rio pointed out when Agatha tried to kiss her again. “Right. Them.” the blue-eyed brunette turned her attention back to the phone where her fans were freaking out. 

“Well that was a lovely surprise.” Agatha said, setting the flower down next to her book. Rio came and sat on Agatha’s lap, the latter wrapping her arms around Rio’s waist. “What were you talking about anyway?” the shorter woman asked. “I was telling them how I wrote Forever.” that made Rio smile. “You mean the song you wrote for me that’s definitely a love song but you refuse to call it one?” Rio asked, raising an eyebrow.

(Agatha hated how attractive she looked when she did that.)

That made Agatha scoff. “Who says I wrote it about you? It could’ve been about Senor Scratchy.” she retorted. Rio laughed loudly before replying. “Scratchy wishes he could inspire such greatness.” she said cockily. “Just admit, you wrote me a love song. It’s really good, but I expected nothing less.”

“Of course it’s good, I wrote it.” Agatha remarked. “She’s so humble.” Rio muttered causing Agatha to pinch her side. “I don’t write love songs, they’re so cliche. The song is a declaration that you and I will be together forever.” Agatha declared. “So it’s a proposal?” Rio asked. “No, that’s also cliche. When I propose, it’ll be a proper one, down on a knee and everything.” 

Blue eyes met brown, “When you propose?” Rio whispered, as if she never considered it. “Sweetheart, I wrote you a love song and performed it on live television, of course I’m going to marry you one day.” Agatha stated as if it was the most obvious reveal. The singer was confused when Rio laughed suddenly. “You called it a love song.” she said, a huge smile on her face. “No I didn’t.” Agatha denied. “Yes you did.” Rio argued. “I know one of you recorded her saying that.” she said addressing the fans, who were going crazy over this whole interaction. 

“It’s already trending on twitter.” Rio laughed reading a comment. Agatha groaned dramatically. “Why do I put up with you? Any of you, you’re supposed to be on my side.” she pouted. “Because you love me and them and you write songs about me that they love.” Rio smiled happily. “Yeah, yeah. Well, this has been fun, but now I’m going to have hot, sweaty fun with my surprise, bye guys!” Agatha announced, ending the live. “You’re shameless.” Rio chuckled, shaking her head amused. “And you love me.” Agatha said matter of factly. “I do, very much.” Rio turned to straddle the woman beneath her. “Now, I believe you said something about hot sweaty fun?” she inquired before pulling Agatha into a passionate kiss.

Okay, so Agatha doesn’t hate being in love and maybe she did write a love song like a cliche popstar, but she couldn’t bring herself to care when the woman she loved more than anyone in the world kissed her like that. 

[aplaceinthedark]

chapter three: ONE TASTE of the LIFE

Summary: The Appalachian Mountains hide numerous monsters, and it's up to Taylor and the Bad Omens to prevent them from causing any harm.

Word Count: 2,945

CW: Supernatural themes, Star Wars spoilers, Hand Jobs (male receiving)

A/N: I am so sorry this took so long. For the past several months, I've been dealing with job issues and major burnout depression. Whereas that's still hanging around, I think I might be in a better place to write more. If you're still hanging on despite my hiatus, thank you very muchness.

This is RPF, and thus will contain real people, but names and events will be changed. If this bothers you too much, then please leave this temple without causing harm.

Divider by: @saradika-graphics

“Taylor? Are you listening to a word I said?”

I jumped, nearly knocking my water bottle over. “N-No. I’m sorry. What were you saying?” I asked sheepishly.

Rachel smiled sympathetically. “Still worried about the break-in?” she asked. I nodded, as I had told everyone that that was the reason why I was so jumpy.

I liked Rachel. Despite being almost twenty years older than me, she was sort of my only friend outside the circle of misfits and monsters I had embedded myself in. She also didn’t live in New Hope, thankfully. She was a transfer from a bigger town, since our library desperately needed one after one of our librarians “mysteriously disappeared” last August.

Said librarian’s assistant had also “mysteriously vanished” as well, leaving a job wide open for me to fill. I didn’t mind it, being Rachel’s assistant. I might have to do grunt work a lot of the time, but at least she helped instead of just dumping it all on me.

“Anyways, as I was saying, I’m pretty sure no one has gone through the donation bin this decade, if you want to make a dent in it.”

Sitting on my ass while I sort for the next two hours? “Don’t threaten me with a good time,” I said, earning a chuckle from her as I stood up and left the front desk.

There were several boxes. She wasn’t kidding. This was going to take longer than I thought. Setting my phone off to the side, I pressed play on one of my safe-for-work playlists and started humming along to some Chappell Roan.

It had been a few days since the incident with the pale creature that had come onto my porch. There had been no repeat occurrences at our place, but someone had said something about seeing a sick-looking coyote at the edge of their yard. I hadn’t mentioned that to Nick, since I wasn’t even sure that it was the same thing that I had seen. 

And Nick was… I couldn’t burden him with any more problems. Between his time at the new tattoo place, townspeople coming to him for remedies to their ailments, and not being able to sleep very well, he was exhausted. I had woken up to him passed out on his couch this morning, Lydia loafing on his back. If I could make him sleep for an entire day, I would do it in a heartbeat.

I pulled the next box towards me and dug through the dusty contents. I was sure now that most of these donations were just from older ladies dumping the contents of their attics off on us just to free up some space. Several of these books so far were the same cookbook in different states of decay. 

I was just about to ask Rachel for a mask since I was tired of sneezing out dust when my hand pulled out a book that was different from all the others. A quick flip through revealed it was a journal. Either their handwriting was terrible or it was written in a different language, because I couldn’t make heads or tails of what it was saying. But some of the drawings in it intrigued me, so I set it in the Keep Pile, with the intention to ask Rachel what to do with it. If someone donated it without knowing, they might want it back.

By the end of my shift, my back and lungs didn’t appreciate what work I had gotten done. “Being in your thirties must be rough,” Rachel laughed as I tried popping my back several times. “Maybe you could get that cute boyfriend of yours to help you out later tonight.”

I felt a brief flush rise to the surface of my skin as I thought about Nick’s skilled fingers. “Quit it,” I mumbled, earning a cackle from her that would normally get someone in a library in trouble.

“What’s that?” she asked, pointing to the journal in my hands.

“Oh, I found it in one of the boxes. It looks like somebody might’ve accidentally put it in the donation box. Should we ask if they want it back?” I said.

Rachel shook her head. “Sorry buttercup,” she said, using her nickname for me. “Those were anonymous, and who knows how long ago it was donated. There’s no way we’d be able to trace it back to its owner. Unless it has historic value, we’re supposed to throw it out.”

Something in my face must’ve changed her mind. “Well, if you don’t want to, I could conveniently look the other way when you leave,” she said. 

I was about to say that no, that it was fine, that I didn’t need another written book in my house when Nick was still combing through Granny’s hex books, but the words caught in my throat and I thanked her instead. Maybe if I could find its owner, that would be one good deed I’d done for this town, since they were still wary of me several months after I had moved in.

The library closed at seven, but I didn’t get to go to my car until half an hour later. Late April still meant that it was dark out when I left work, but the building was in the middle of New Hope, the forest a ways off. I dashed to my car through the rain, the water from the puddles splashing up as my feet crashed down in them. 

My fingers were wrapped around the car’s door handle when  a cold rush of air blew through my denim jacket, and the hair on the back of my neck stood up. I froze as the door automatically unlocked, the sound as loud as a gunshot despite the sound of the rain. Something in the reflection of the car window caught my eye.

Someone was behind me.

I slowly turned around, trying not to startle it. Meanwhile, my mind was racing in confusion and fear. Nothing came out of the woods. The town was safe.

The boys couldn’t help me if something were to happen to me out here.

So what was the shadowy figure doing in the middle of a parking lot?

It didn’t move as I stared at it. It was almost formless; I could just make out the thin, vaguely humanoid shape of it. Even if I wanted to say something, my throat had closed shut. The chill of the night increased, the wind picking up and sending some bits of trash skittering across the asphalt. But it didn’t disturb the shadow. 

I opened my mouth to say… something? Shout at it to scare it away? But another voice startled me into screaming. I whipped around. 

“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, Taylor!” Rachel swore, hand on her heart. She was standing a few feet away under her umbrella. “What’re you still doing here? Are you okay?”

“Uhh… yeah. Just thought I saw something,” I said. I turned back around.

Other than us, the parking lot was empty.

The smell of food coming through a cracked window greeted me as I stepped onto the front porch. My knees felt weak at the thought of Nick cooking after the heart attack I had had. I took a moment to compose myself, exhaling as I turned the doorknob and stepped into our home.

It was indeed Nick cooking, as he stood in front of the stove. His long black hair was tied up in a bun, and he was wearing his thick-rimmed glasses. “Hiya,” he said, not even turning around. 

I dropped my backpack onto one of the chairs at the kitchen table, immediately walking over and hugging him from behind. “Woah, hey. Everything alright?” He asked. His hand moved down to cover both of mine.

I should tell him; I need to tell him. Instead, I nodded into the space between his shoulders. Even though a part of me knew that the creepiness of the town's legends were true, I still couldn't believe that something would come out of the woods and into the safeness of the streets.

So what I said instead was, “I missed you,” into his shirt. 

“Missed you more,” he said in return, despite seeing each other this morning. 

“What are you making?” I asked, peering over his shoulder. 

“Just some hamburger pasta. Thought it would be good for an easy night, since it's just the two of us until later tonight.”

“Really? Not even Folio?” I asked. 

Without looking up, Nick pointed over at the kitchen calendar with the spoon in his free hand. A little black circle was drawn on today's date and the next two days. The New Moons meant that Folio was stuck in his Grim form until the first sliver of the moon shined. Kind of like a werewolf but opposite. 

“It'll be done in a few. Go get comfortable and I'll put on a movie,” he said, his own way of shooing me out of the kitchen. As I parted with him, I saw that he hadn't done the same with Lydia, who was watching from the floor with her hungry eyes. 

As I changed into some lounge pants and an old sweater of Nick's, I tried to think of a way to bring up the encounter with the shadow person. There was no way that he wouldn't get upset about it, that was a fact. Maybe after we ate.

When I came back out into the front room, Nick had helped himself to making my plate and putting it on the coffee table. I sat down next to him, I pulled my plate onto my lap. He had pulled up Rise of Skywalker for us to watch.

“So who’s coming later?” I asked as he started the movie.

“Noah,” Nick mumbled. There was an undercurrent of something in his voice, so I guess Noah had transferred something to his mind that annoyed him. 

“That's fine,” I said, squeezing his thigh. 

After eating, I curled up into Nick, and he wrapped an arm around my shoulders. “We should dress up as Kylo and Rey for Halloween again,” he said.

“Your hair’s getting too long for you to be Kylo,” I said, poking the side of his head.

“Yeah, because Rey is totally a blonde.”

“It was last minute!”

We kept up the light commentary for most of the film. I was fine up until the part when Rey sacrificed herself to kill the Emperor. As Ben Solo sacrificed himself to resurrect her, I threaded my fingers through his. A moment passed, and then Nick squeezed my hand. 

When the credits rolled, I tried to get up to take our dishes back to the kitchen sink. Nick pulled me back down. “And where do you think you’re going?” he asked, pulling me onto his lap. He wrapped his arms around me.

“Was gonna do the dishes, since you made dinner,” I said.

He pulled my head gently to rest on his shoulder. “Just stay here. With me,” he said, quietly. He would do this if he thought I was about to have one of my moments. 

He started playing with my hair, making my eyes flutter shut. “Okay,” I said. 

He kissed my forehead, but as he was pulling away, I reached up to cup his face and direct him further down. His lips brushed mine before pressing down once, soft and tender, but then he tried pulling away again. “Are you su–”

“Nick,” I pleaded, his name coming out in a rush. If he had any resolve before, it came crumbling down within milliseconds.

He was still a bit hesitant, flicking his tongue against my lips. But I wasn’t made of glass, so I pushed his chest until his back was pressed onto the couch cushions. I crawled up him until I was straddling his hips, my knees pressing into the sides of his waist. The kiss never broke.

It didn’t take long for him to harden beneath me, and I couldn’t help the small, satisfactory grin that rose to my lips. I ran my hand down his chest, down his stomach to the waistband of his shorts. When I finally parted with Nick, his hand shot up to curl around the back of my head. “Bun–”

“Can I touch you?” I asked.

“Oh, fuck yes. Please,” he pleaded.

I lifted myself a little bit, just enough to give me some room to slip my hand underneath the waistband of his boxer-briefs. The angle might’ve been a little bit awkward, but it didn’t really matter when I wrapped my fingers around the considerable size of him.

“Fuck,” he groaned, throwing his head back against the pillows. The movement caused him to bare the pretty tan skin over his throat, and I practically descended upon it. The minute I mouthed over his pulse point, his hips rolled up, rutting into my hand. On the upstroke I rubbed my thumb over the tip, and he made my favorite sound of–

Click.

We both froze, my hand down his pants. I quickly raised my head and our eyes locked on each other at the sound of the door unlocking. As the front door opened, I quickly rose up to stand on my knees. Noah stopped dead in his tracks, confusion written on his face. 

“Am I interrupting something?” he asked.

“Yes,” I said immediately, Nick echoing my words from below me.

Noah’s eyes roamed over me for a second, and his face hardened. “Please, continue. I don’t want to interrupt you guys making out in–”

Nick sat up, crawling out from underneath me. If he stood up, Noah could easily see that we were doing more than making out. “When we agreed on later, I mean late.” 

“It’s after eleven. I think that’s late enough,” Noah said, striding across the kitchen to the fridge, where he took out a beer. 

As Nick straightened himself, I caught the look on his face that said he was communicating with Noah through the bond that he had with everyone. Was there something agreed upon that didn’t require me knowing about? 

My thought was all but confirmed when Nick put his hand on my waist. “You wanna go to bed, Bun?” he asked, looking up at me with big green eyes. In this lighting, they were dark as the evergreens outside.

“No, I’m not tired,” I said. I fixed him with a look that said that I wasn’t going to be kept in the dark. Again.

He sighed. “Hang on, I gotta get the hex book,” he said, standing up. He then walked to the spare bedroom.

I looked over at Noah, who was leaning back against the fridge. He perked an eyebrow. “How was work?” he asked before taking a sip of his beer.

I narrowed my eyes at him. “I was gonna tell him.”

“But you got distracted, didn’t you?”

“Fuck off, Bambi.”

“Oh, I’m about to do worse than that.”

I tilted my head. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

Nick came back with a small, leatherbound notebook. He tossed it onto the kitchen table, as if it personally offended him. “We’ve been doing this all wrong,” he said. He practically collapsed into one of the chairs. 

“Doing what wrong? What is ‘this’?” I asked.

“There’s a reason why the Valley has been getting worse these past few years. More things showing up, resurfacing, growing bolder enough to where people can catch glimpses of them. Pale Things showing up shouldn’t be a surprise, really.” He was babbling, practically. But then he took in a deep breath and closed his eyes.

“Those sacrifices weren’t just for Vessels. They were also to keep the Woods from getting worse.”

Noah’s lips thinned. “I told you, I’m not killing any more innocent people.”

“Yeah, I know, and I think I found a way around that, but…” Nick trailed off. He then silently opened the hex book and flipped to a page he had marked. He then held it out towards me.

“Why me?” I asked.

“I’ve already seen it,” Noah said. 

I took the book and glanced at the pages. It wasn’t in any readable context: Granny wrote in some kind of “language” that had been passed down through her family as to keep their practice a secret from others. Nick had been slowly translating them over the past few months into his own notebooks.

“What is this?” I finally asked. 

“It's a… Fertility Ritual.” Nick swallowed thickly. “My ancestors would send someone into the forest so the Forest would be… sated.”

“A sacrifice. Like what happened with you guys.” I waved a hand over Noah. 

“No! Well… sort of,” Nick said. He bit his lip. 

“That was more the Black Stag's version. Though it wanted sacrifices so it could take a mortal form.” Noah folded his arms over his chest. “This is a… less bloody version.”

I skimmed over the page again, and it finally clicked. “When you say ‘fertility’, you mean… Noah's got to knock someone up?”

“No!” The two shouted at the same time. “God, fuck no,” Nick sighed. “But the baby making process is the main part.”

“He has to have sex with someone?” I asked incredulously. 

“Not just someone…” Nick lowered his voice to a mumble. “Someone with a… someone of the opposite sex.”

“Well how the fuck is he gonna do that?” I asked. “Everyone around here will recognize him, and then you got the antlers to deal with.”

The two were quiet suddenly. Nick put his head in his hands. “Bun…”

“What?”

“He's talking about you,” Noah put bluntly.

tysm for reading! If you enjoyed this, please reblog to share the word of the Revered Father. Next chapter coming soon.

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[ryanthel0ser]

AUGH MY BRAIN IS JUST ROTATING DANTE VERGIL AND NERO AROUND I HAVE THINGS TO DOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

But like

Dante who resents his demon side because of what happened to his family as a kid and because of what happened to Vergil and to the other people he cares about but doesn't show a shred of his fear and trauma, hiding it behind jokes and cockiness (except in dmc2 which is post Nero Angelo and has him believing he's lost the only family he had left which explains why he's so "not Dante" in that game) but he uses that demon side to fight against them and get his revenge. I don't doubt he's often had the thought "if it wasn't for my father none of this would've happened" or even "if I wasn't part demon the people I care about wouldn't have targets on their backs."

Vergil on the opposite end resents his humanity because of what happened to his family. He believes his humanity is what held him back, it was his weakness, if he had more power he could've stopped the attack and saved his mother. And that becomes his mission, while he still hates demons he believes that gaining more demonic power and becoming more like Sparda will finally make him powerful enough, he won't have that weakness. Yet, no matter what he does somehow Dante is still better. Dante doesn't even want this, why does he always succeed, he gets everything. Mother saved him, she didn't even look for me. It isn't till after Vergil has been separated into V and Urizen that he's forced to deal with his humanity as V. He is forced to go on a personal journey until he combines with Urizen and becomes Vergil again (visions of v is so beautiful at showing this I cry so hard reading those final panels).

And then there's Nero. He spent most of his life completely unaware of the Sparda bloodline. He saw his demon arm as a curse for a long time because he knew the Order would hate him and possibly try to kill him because he has some kind of demonic connection. He was partially right about this, but they were hypocrites and creating their own demons to fight. Now he knows he's a descendant of Sparda, but despite this demon side he knows who he is. He knows what's important to him, and this demonic power can be used to protect the people he loves like Kyrie, she loves him regardless of this demonic side. He's in touch with both his humanity and the demon within, we see this culminate in DMC5. He's that balance between Dante and Vergil, he's truly a successor to Sparda's legacy. And he didn't even know he was a part of it until he was nineteen.

[bragganhyl]

how it started

how it's going

my boy really baldured the gate to say the least

[weaselle]

i had to make a solution for this for myself, mostly because of depression, but it makes a nice How To for folks who are low on spoons or could use some help in the kitchen.

Fortunately i was a professional cook for over a decade. UNfortunately the first post i made explaining it was suuuuper long. Let's see if i can do better

So you select any protein that you can cook in a frying pan -- chicken breasts, ground beef, pork chops, sausages, steak, chicken thighs, whatever. You also select one or two types of veggie (mushrooms or tubers also work, i just did this with potatoes and carrots for dinner tonight).

[i like cooking for vegetarians, but this is how i cook for myself when i'm low on spoons - perhaps i'll do another post for meatless meals]

You'll also need some kind of oil, and a sauce or two of your choice in a bottle. All cooking gear is a large frying pan with lid (i prefer non-stick) a spatula, a cutting board, and a knife.

You cut the veggies into bite size pieces, cut up enough for two meals. One kind of veggie is fine, or you can do mix two or three

Put frying pan on medium heat with a little oil. Tubers or mushrooms or go in the pan a few minutes before the protein. 2 portions of the protein goes in the pan, about 5 minutes with lid (don't worry you can still get a good sear on both sides)

Now flip your protein if it's flip-able and add normal veggies, put the lid back on another five-ish minutes.

Take your protein out and put it with one portion of the veggies in a microwave safe container. That's going to be your lunch tomorrow. Put the other portion of protein on a plate to rest (you have to let a cooked protein sit a couple minutes before you serve it or when you cut into it all the juices run out and it goes dry - the liquids thicken as it cools, preventing this drying out if you let it rest, the goal is to serve it very warm but not hot hot)

While it's resting, pour some sauce from your bottle in the pan with the rest of the veggies and turn up the heat. A single sauce/bottle is fine, i like to get fancy and mix a couple. Two examples of personal favorite mixes are 1: bbq sauce and a hot sauce like sriracha 2: roughly equal parts low sodium soy sauce and worcestershire (makes something similar to a teriyaki sauce) A swallow of wine is almost always a great option if you want to add that to your sauce too, just add it to the pan before the other sauces so the alcohol has time to burn off.

...

Here is the important bit. While your veggies are finishing, wash your cutting board and chef knife. Then when you dump your veggies and sauce over your protein on the plate, while it is still too hot to eat, you wash your frying pan and spatula before you eat. Now the only dishes you have left to do are your plate and fork. Maybe a steak knife.

...

The whole thing takes about 35 minutes even with washing the dishes, and that includes your lunch for the next day- just pour a different sauce on and stick it in the microwave for a couple minutes (or five minutes back in the frying pan) and you have a full healthy lunch with a different flavor

You can use this technique every single meal and it yields hundreds of combinations, from pork and potatoes bbq, to salmon and broccoli teriyaki, to chicken and zucchini in a soy glaze.

It will keep you down to less than an hour of kitchen time per day total for both lunch and dinner including all dish clean up, uses the least dishes, the least effort, requires the least technique, and is, depending on what you pick out, very affordable

here are a couple more examples from this month; i didn’t take pictures of the salmon i did recently, but you get the idea

it's not super fancy, but it is easy, affordable, quick, and any flavors you want. Hope this helps some folks

Happy Cooking!

[sleepyjuice]

toxic!rafe will blow your phone up the second you post something on instagram that he’s ‘iffy’ about.

you posted a photo dump which consisted of some random photos of the beach, some of your friends, one of you and rafe of course, but the one that had rafe seeing red was the last slide, which was you in a bikini. he texted you several times at first, and while you were literally typing your response, he called you. your fingers were typing so fast to respond to him that you accidentally declined the call, and he did not like that. you immediately went to call him back, but another text from rafe rolled in, saying ‘fuck you don’t talk to me we’re done’ you sighed loudly, knowing damn well he was talking out of his ass right now, so you sat back and waited for the inevitable next string of texts to roll in. which they did, only seconds later.

rafe <3: do you get off on making me mad or something

rafe <3: like i’m racking my brain trying to understand why you do the things you do and that’s all i can come up with

rafe <3: and i see at least 4 guys have already liked your post like that’s crazy to me?? thought i told you to block all the guys that followed you?? of course you didn’t

rafe <3: also who even took that pic of you??? bc i know damn well it wasn’t me so who the fuck you posing for with your fucking ass and tits out? WHAT THE FUCK

rafe <3: DO NOT PUT YOUR SHIT ON DO NOT DISTURB answer me rn.

rafe <3: nah it’s cool actually i’m gonna go hit up my other gfs so you have a good night.

you rolled your eyes at that last text, deciding to fully turn your phone off. you knew he would likely try to text or call you again very soon but you didn’t want to deal with it right now. this wasn’t your first rodeo, you knew nothing you could say to him right now would calm him down, so letting him freak out on his own was the best method to his madness.

three hours had passed since you turned your phone off. you had caught up on some reading and turned on your current favorite show, but found yourself interrupted by a knock at your front door. you expected it to be rafe, but instead it was a large bouquet of your favorite flowers and a gift bag. you glanced around to see if rafe was lurking around, but saw nothing. when he freaked out over text and was able to reread his actions, he usually waited a bit longer to show his face as opposed to a verbal argument.

you brought the flowers inside and set them on the counter before grabbing the card attached to the side of the bouquet.

sorry we argued. you are so beautiful and i love you so much. got you a little gift and sent you some money for food and i set your appointment with your nail girl for tomorrow at 10. love you forever baby -rafe

you couldn’t help but smile just a little. the flowers were beautiful and the note was pretty sweet, so you chose to ignore the part where he said ‘we argued.’ you didn’t get a word in, but you let it slide. especially after you opened the gift bag to see the new dior bag you had been wanting.

you hurried to turn on your phone, immediately seeing a $500 apple payment from rafe as well as a new text from a few minutes ago.

rafe <3: hope you like the flowers and bag baby. love you! :)

you: i love them. thanks rafe, love you too

rafe <3: good to hear. lmk what you end up getting for dinner and i’ll pick you up tomorrow to take you to your nail apt. can’t wait to see you baby

you would order yourself dinner that was obviously way less than $500, but you would send rafe a picture and thank him again. you’d facetime him before bed and conversation flowed like nothing had even happened just hours before. he’d ask you what color nails you were getting, tell you funny stories about the old men at the country club and excitedly plan what you two were going to do the next day. the cycle seemed like it would never end, but you often forgot about the bad when he was talking so sweetly to you and all you could think about was how excited you were to see him tomorrow.

[chaussetteblanche]

and they were roommates pt. 2

pairing : Spencer Reid x fem!student!roommate!reader summary : the BAU team works the case, you get to help word count : 2.3k warning : canon-typical violence, mention of violence and sexual violence A/N : thank you all so much for all the love on part 1 of this !!! I love getting feedback, it's incredibly motivating ! I will probably do a part 3 :)) Also, my cat is sitting next to me as I write this, which I find quite funny

part 1, part 3, part 4

Back at the police station, Spencer had trouble focusing on the case. His mind kept wandering over to you, wondering what you were doing, how you were doing. He was on edge and the entire team could feel it. Hotch pulled him to the side to ask him if he wanted to give you a phone call. Reid refused, but settled on sending you a text, something he never usually did while working. Something he never usually did because he wasn't the biggest fan of technology and also because he couldn't decipher how you were actually feeling without hearing your voice and all the quirks in the way you spoke which gave away your real feelings.

Sent by Dr. Ironed Socks : < Hey. How are you doing? > Sent by You : < Ok, I'm having a tea on the couch. Geoff is in REM sleep on my lap. Thx for checking <3 >

Your text was followed by a pixelly picture of your slightly overweight (Spencer couldn't use that term to describe Geoffrey around you or you'd get upset) orange cat sprawled out on your lap, legs and arms askew, fast asleep. Spencer felt a small wave of relief spread through him. You were okay for now. Geoffrey was looking after you. Later, he'd help you process and give you all the tools necessary to get over such a traumatic event and move on. It was almost as if that was in his job description.

Returning to the room where the BAU team had settled in, Spencer sent Hotch a grateful nod. Hotch moved his lips in what resembled a small smile, Reid couldn't be sure. "Okay," Garcia's voice resounded from the speaker sitting in the middle of the round table, "I've contacted all of Mary Goldman's professors and it turns out she didn't go to class today. Her first class was at 11:30 but she never showed up." "None of the students we interrogated on campus had seen her after 10:15," Emily spoke up. "Spencer's roommate saw her between 10:30 and 11:00," Rossi intervened. "Okay, we'll get her to come in," Hotch affirmed. Spencer's whole body tensed. You had been the last person to see the victim. His mind was so busy reeling, thinking about everything you'd have to go through as the most promising witness, that he missed Morgan's question.

"Reid?" Derek raised an eyebrow. "Uh, sorry, what did you say?" "What was the time of death according to the coroner?" "14:30," Rossi answered. "It was 14:26, actually," corrected Reid. Rossi rolled his eyes. "Okay, so the unsub has his victim between around, let's say 11:15, and 14:26," Rossi shot a pointed look at Spencer, "that's about three hours and 11 minutes. In those three hours, he had time to take the victim someplace where neither of them would be seen or heard, beat and sexually assault her, and finally dump her in smack-dab in front of the university." "He's definitely organised and wants to send a message," Emily thought aloud. "But what is he trying to say? Look at what I can do? You can't stop me?" "Friends," interrupted Garcia, "I'm going to need at least some information before I even try to get anything out of a search. He's taking and leaving them on campus, so I'm guessing he doesn't necessarily need a vehicle. Does he live in the area?" "Yes, he's local or knows the area, he knows these women and he most likely knows the campus. Search for white males, early twenties with a record of violence and sexual misconduct. Cross-reference that with victims of reported abuse and sexual abuse in the last twenty five years. Run background checks for all university staff. Also have a look at similar victims and MOs in this area in the last five years. This may not be his first time," spoke Hotch. "On it, I'll get back to you when I've found something." "Thanks, Garcia."

You'd taken a shower as soon as you'd arrived home. The water was too hot and you'd scrubbed your skin too hard but getting out, you felt a slight bit better. Heavily disliking the way you still felt, you opted for a cup of Earl Grey tea with milk and sugar. Settling on the couch with a steaming cup in your hands, you tucked your legs beneath you and sighed.

Images of Mary's dead body were printed onto the inside of your eyelids. You still couldn't believe it. Your mind reeled as you tried to think of an explanation for it all. Whichever path you followed, you came up empty. You could not comprehend or imagine any reason of taking the life of an innocent person, especially in such a violent way. Luckily for you, you still didn't know the extent of the violence.

A familiar noise pulled you from your dark thoughts. Geoffrey had just jumped down from his cat tree. You watched him stretch and languidly walk over to you. He meowed once before jumping onto the couch, right next to you. You moved your legs so that you were sitting cross-legged and scratched his head. He purred in delight and pressed himself against you. He sniffed at your tea with an unimpressed look before climbing into your lap before letting himself flop down on his side, stretching out his appendages. You cooed as his pink toe-beans stretched too and laid a hand on his belly, scratching gently. The vibrations of his purrs had a calming effect on you. "Are you trying to make me forgive you for biting my ankle the other day when I wouldn't give you any more treats? You know Spencer says you're a bit overweight, I was just trying to get him to stop body-shaming you, my love..."

A few minutes later, you get a text from Spencer. About thirty minutes after that, you get a phone call from him. "Hey, would you mind coming to the station? It turns out you're the last person to have seen the victim."

"I'll do the cognitive interview." "Reid, I don't think that's a good idea." "Look, yes I'm invested, I know that. But I also know her and-" "Reid, no. This is the reason we such have procedures." "But I-" "Reid." Hotchner's tone translated finality. Spencer's shoulders sank in defeat. He had figured that if he had been the one conducting the interview, maybe it would have been less traumatic for you. He hated the idea of not being there for you, with you, during such a trying moment. He bit his bottom lip.

"I'll do it," volunteered Morgan. Reid felt slight comfort at that, Morgan was one of the few people he would entrust his life to. He could entrust you to him for the interview, even if he didn't like it. Hotchner nodded. "Reid, you work with Garcia, focus on finding other victims with the same MO to help build the profile." Reid nodded and went to find his colleagues.

When you entered the police station, it was almost like he could feel your presence. He came to find you straight away, not wanting to leave alone even for a second. "Hey." "Hey." Reid immediately pulled you in for a meaningful embrace, burying his face in your hair. The smell of your shampoo, conditionner and body wash were bliss to his nostrils. They were a promise that you were here, you were safe, you were okay. Morgan watched from afar, a small smile playing at his lips. He knew Reid, and the hug you exchanged was both too hasty and too tight to be anything casual. "Are you okay? I'm so sorry to have to make you come in, but they're going to do- well I wanted to do it but they wouldn't let me, so it's-"

A slightly older, very muscular and gentle man stepped forward, holding out his hand to you. You shook it. "I'm Agent Derek Morgan. I'm one of Spencer's colleagues. I'll be the one conducting the interview, seeing as there's a conflict of interest with you and Spencer. I hope you can understand that." You introduced yourself and looked at Spencer before answering Derek. "Yes, I understand, it's- it's not a problem." "Great, if you could just follow me, please?" You licked your lips and sent Spencer a look, which he answers with a nod of reassurance and a small smile, before following Derek.

"You can close your eyes if it makes you more comfortable." You were sat in an uncomfortable plastic chair. The light above you was ticking at uneven intervals and the room smelt of worry. You didn't know how you could get any more comfortable, but listening to Morgan's even, alto voice helped a bit. "Okay." You closed your eyes. "You told Agent Rossi that you crossed the victim somewhere around quarter to eleven. Is that correct?" "Uh, yes." "Where did you cross her?" "In the main hall." "Where were you going?" "Um, I had just been to the bathroom and I was heading to my Anglo-American Literary Survey class." "Okay, can you describe to me everything about the moment when you crossed the victim? What you saw, what you felt, smelled, heard? Was anything out of the ordinary?" You opened your eyes.

"Um, I'm sorry, but could you stop referring to Mary as the victim, please? She has a name, which is Mary Goldman, and a victim wasn't the only thing she was." Derek was slightly surprised at your comment but understood where you came from. Separating from the name was a way for profilers to gain some distance from the horrendous violence. Personally knowing the victim, you didn't have such luxury. "Of course, I apologise. What did you feel when you crossed Mary? Was anything out of place?"

You nodded in thanks and tried to bring yourself back to that moment. It seemed unreal, how such a small interaction suddenly held such importance. "O-Okay, uh, my hands are still a bit wet. There weren't any towels in the bathroom. I saw her after she saw me and we exchanged a smile. I thought she looked really pretty today, but I didn't tell her. We really don't know each other that well." "Okay, that's good. Was she wearing anything out of habit for her?" "Uhh, no, she was wearing a pleated skirt and a sweater vest. She often dresses like that, I don't know exactly why I thought she looked pretty. I guess she just looked happy. Nothing was out of the ordinary." "Good. Could you hear or smell anything?" "Yeah, well, there were the voices of other people in the hall. I can hear girls laughing. I smell Mary's perfume when she walks past me. She always wears the same one, it's Chanel, Mademoiselle Coco specifically, she told me once at a party."

"Okay, do you know where she's going?" "I- yeah, she's heading for her Behavioural Neuroscience class." "Is she walking in the right direction?" "Uh... Yes, yes, she is. She's not in too much of a hurry, though, she doesn't like the teacher." "So why is she heading there already, then? The class only starts at 11:30." "She likes to reread the material from the previous week before the class starts." "Why doesn't she like the teacher?" "No one does, all he does is read off his slides and he's a jerk when it comes to grading."

Morgan suppressed a smile at your comment. "Okay, thank you so much, Y/N, this was very helpful." "Was it? I didn't feel like-" "Yes, I promise you've just shared some crucial pieces of information." "O-Okay, if you say so."

All eyes were on Morgan as he entered the briefing room. He put his paper coffee cup down on the table and looked at Hotch. "Nothing was out of the ordinary. Mary was wearing habitual clothes and the same perfume she always wore. She was heading to the same class, as she did weekly, at the same time. My guess is this guy knew her routine and did a blitz attack. Y/N gave me the number of Mary's best friend, and according to her, Mary didn't have any guys in her life except for her dad and brother."

Hotchner nodded. Spencer couldn't help but feeling proud of you for being able to go through with the interview and to provide such useful information, too. He'd have to congratulate you when he got home. "Pretty boy and I found three similar victims in the last three years. They weren't connected to this case because they were in another university, just on the other side of the state line. Last year, three girls, university students, were killed, same MO, all disappeared for about three hours before being found dead in front of the university, they attended," Garcia spoke from the speaker. Spencer nodded in agreement to her words. "What did the police find back then?" asked Emily. "Nothing, they- uh, did all they could during the month that the three murders happened but after the third victim, the unsub stopped," Spencer answered. "Stopped?" Emily repeated, brows drawn together in confusion. "Yeah, he just- stopped killing and disappeared. Our best guess is that something triggered him then and that the same thing triggered him now."

"Oh, another thing," Garcia sounded reluctant to share the information she had, "I looked at all the victims' pictures and... well, I'll just send them to you, that'll be easier."

Spencer's blood ran ice cold as he stared at the four girls on the screen. They all looked exactly like you.

Taglist : (all those of you who wanted a part two <3) @princess-ofthe-pages @usuck @theylovemelody @empressgraytea @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @lillianacristina

[katsu28]

summer's golden haze - chapter one

pairing: lando norris x reader

summary: a small town somewhere in beautiful greece, early morning coffee runs, and the cute boy that you keep running into. (4.8k)

warnings: sort of shy!reader, a bit of swearing, lando being both smooth and a little awkward

a/n: series masterlist coming soon :)

“That guy is totally checking you out.” 

You reluctantly drag your attention away from the truly addicting pasta you’d ordered to meet your friend’s gaze across the table, slightly suspicious, but also a little curious as to what she’s talking about.

Samira is grinning knowingly at you already, mischievously, like she’s got a tasty bit of information you don’t know about. Probably not tastier than the food in front of you, but your interest is piqued nonetheless. 

“What guy?” You sigh, giving into your curiosity quite easily. She arches a perfectly sculpted brow at you, then tilts her head to the side discreetly, and you follow her gaze towards—

Oh. That guy. 

You saw him on your way to your seat at first, a group of four guys sitting a few tables away in the same patio area of the restaurant, drawing your attention even before you’d sat down. Artfully messy brown curls swept up out of his face, thick dark brows framing bright eyes crinkled with laughter at something his friend had said, you’d felt yourself growing conscious of the man’s existence with just one glance. 

And then his gaze had flicked to your friends passing his table, but more importantly, your own gaze, and you’d nearly stumbled on your own feet.

Your cheeks had grown hot at the intensity of his stare following your path to your seat, not to mention the embarrassment that had flooded your veins at the thought of nearly eating shit in front of this very attractive stranger. 

Had you grown the nerve to look back at him at the time, you would’ve seen his lips quirk into a goofy grin, as well as all the shoving he’d gotten from his friends as they’d caught wind of his unabashed staring. 

Now you’re almost done with your meal, and you could swear you’ve felt him looking at you plenty more times. Not that it mattered at all, because your eyes have been firmly glued to your food and your friends only. 

Okay, so you might’ve hastened a few covert glances over in his direction too, but he’s been chatting away to his friends every time, so maybe you’re just making nothing into something. 

“Don’t even try to hide it, you’ve been making eyes at him too, girl,” Your other friend, Maren, pipes up, elbowing you in the arm playfully. The last of your girls, Camille, nods her agreement, smiling gleefully. “He’s hot.”  

Right, so perhaps not as covert as you’d thought. 

“Dunno what you’re talking about,” You reply, spearing another piece of pasta through your fork. You’re kicked under the table at that moment, hard enough to warrant the whine that escapes your mouth. “What?” Now you're met with three pointed glares your way. “Okay, fine. Yeah, he’s cute.” 

“Go talk to him!” 

“Go flirt with him!” 

“Absolutely not!” You exclaim. Your voice comes out louder than you intend and you duck your head quickly, worried you’d disturbed the peace of the quiet area. “He’s probably got a girlfriend already or something.” 

“If he does, she better dump his ass because he's been giving you fuck me eyes all damn night.” 

“No, he has not,” You hiss, which only gets you yet another look from them. You’re starting to get tired of all these looks, actually. “Has he? I mean—are they? Fuck me eyes?” 

“Oh yeah, he—” 

Camille clears her throat, cutting Samira off. “No, they’re not,” She assures you, placing a hand over yours. “He’s been smiling every time he looks over.”

“Maybe he’s looking at one of you guys?” 

“He’s definitely been looking at you.” 

You bite your lip, nose scrunching skeptically. You haven’t really been the subject of any guy’s attention before, let alone one as handsome as this one. You’ve learned it’s better not to get your hopes up when it comes to certain situations. This seems like one of them. “Are you sure?” 

“If I’m wrong, I’ll give you back your share of the villa rental.” 

“Can I get that in writing, or…?” 

Before any of them can come up with a smart remark, a plate is placed into the center of the table, on which is a large square of baklava, light and flaky with that sweet, sugary filling spilling out the sides of the piece that almost makes your mouth water. You’d seen it in the dessert section of the menu earlier, but had decided against ordering it in favor of trying an appetizer instead. 

“Oh, excuse me? We didn’t order this,” Maren speaks up, looking up at the waiter. 

He does a half turn, sweeping an arm in a vague direction. “It is from the gentleman in the blue shirt.” 

You follow his gaze, and fuck, your heart skips a beat in your chest, because it’s him. It’s the same guy you’ve been drawn to all night, and he’s actually looking right back at you this time. His hand comes up in a wave, then back down to his side almost immediately, like he’s worried about it seeming too eager, before settling with a reserved nod. All the while, he’s still got that smile gracing his face that makes your stomach flip flop. 

“He sent over a dessert?!?! I am so keeping that money, girl,” Camille hums, picking up her fork to dig in while Samira and Maren voice their agreement. 

You, on the other hand, well…you’re not sure what to think. You appreciate the gesture, but you're also confused. Why did he send something over? What did he want? 

It doesn't occur to you that he’s truly taken an interest in you until you're huddled outside with your friends talking next steps of the night. Whether you want to keep exploring this new place, or call it a day and go home. You’re firmly on the latter’s side because you're tired. But you’ll go along with whatever is decided. 

The guy and his friends have coincidentally left the restaurant at the same time as you did, judging by the sudden commotion that erupts behind you. Like a moth drawn to a flame, your gaze lands on him yet again, only this time, you actually lock eyes with him. Something jolts through you, something electric up your spine like a tiny shock. Something you’ve never felt before. You shove the foreign feeling deep down, no matter how much you’d like to explore it. 

He looks away, teeth sunk into his bottom lip to quell the grin tugging at the corners of his mouth, and you avert your wandering eyes too, before anyone else notices. Evidently you’re a little too slow, because all three of your friends catch on instantly. 

“Go talk to him already.” Camille says matter-of-factly. 

“No, I—what do I even say?” 

“Maybe hello would be a good start?” 

You press your lips together, unimpressed, and you get a snicker in return, something about how you're not asking for his hand in marriage, you’re just trying to make conversation. It’s not that you don’t want to talk to him, it’s that you’re not exactly sure how to approach it. You’ve already convinced yourself of the worst, but to possibly have it play out in real life is a tangible fear of yours, and always has been. 

One of your girls (you’re willing to bet more money it’s Maren) gives you a not so gentle shove towards him, as does one of his friends over in his group. Now you’ve got no choice. You meet each other in the middle, just looking at each other for a few moments. It’s awkward and you have half a mind to turn and go, but then he speaks. 

“Hey,” He says. 

“Hi,” You reply shyly, shifting on your feet nervously. He shoves both hands into his pockets. He looks a bit nervous too, which does a significant wonder to calm you. “Thank you for the baklava. It was delicious.” 

“Yeah, of course. Glad you guys liked it. Figured you can’t go wrong with a classic.” He bobs his head, shoulders creeping up towards his ears in a shrug before dropping back down. “I’m Lando, by the way.” 

Lando. It’s not a name you’re expecting, but it suits him well. 

He sticks his hand out almost instinctively, like he’s been conditioned to do so. Maybe he has, considering the aura of professionality it gives off when you do shake his hand. 

His palm is smooth and warm against yours, long fingers curling around your hand like the sincere smile that curls his lips as you tell him your name in return. Dimples bracket his mouth on both sides. 

The handshake almost lasts a little too long for two people who’ve just met literally a few moments ago, as does the way his eyes linger upon yours. 

Even in the dark of the night, illuminated only by the warm glow of the lamps above you, you can see him much better up close. His sunkissed skin does little to hide the flushed pink on his cheeks that travels down to his chest, disappearing under the generously unbuttoned blue linen. You feel exposed under his intense gaze, looking back at those mesmerizing eyes. Blue, green, gray—maybe a mix of all three, you’re not sure, but you can’t help but want to figure it out. 

Then you remember that you don’t know this guy at all, and it brings you back to reality. 

“Lando, like…the guy from Star Wars?” You ask. It breaks the invisible tether between the two of you and he smiles, laughs a little bit too. 

He shrugs casually. “Not according to my mum and dad, but I do get that a lot.” 

“You must get tired of hearing it from people then.”

His head tilts to one side, smile going endearingly lopsided. “Depends on the person. Like, I didn’t mind when you said it just now.” You’re not sure how to respond to that, so you just smile, and he takes your reaction in stride, moving on. “Are you guys from around here, or…” 

“No, actually, we’re—um, we’re just here on holiday.”

“Oh, same! Yeah, we’ve been here a few days now, it’s been great. Is this your first time in Greece?” He asks, smile turning warm. You nod. “Have you checked out the local market yet?”

“Can’t say we have yet, no. We just got in the day before last, so…still figuring out our footing first. But I’ll keep it in mind, thank you!” 

Lando inhales sharply, rubbing at the back of his neck. “Hey, y’know, if you want, maybe we could—” 

“Oi, Lando! Let’s go, mate!” 

He glances back over at his friends, one of whom is waving for him to return to his group rather wildly, before turning back to you. Whatever he was about to say is lost now, because he shrugs loosely. “Guess that’s my cue,” He sighs. Then his gaze softens, smile turning a little hopeful. “Will I see you around again? Small town and all.” 

“Uh…I dunno. Maybe, if it’s meant to be.” You have to try with all your might not to take the statement back, even though you really, really want to. 

If it’s meant to be—who the fuck says that? Like fate has anything to do with this miraculous interest Lando seems to have taken in you. If you were him, you’d find your words quite off putting. Instead, he smirks, crooked and cute. 

“Meant to be,” He repeats, eyes twinkling with amusement. “Yeah alright, I’ll take my chances. Have a good night.” 

You bid him a soft goodnight, barely able to stifle the giggle that spills from your mouth when he nearly trips over the cobblestones on his way back to his friends. He’s awkward, you think, but still confident. It’s cute. 

Lando stays rooted in your mind the rest of the night, all the way up until you’re lying in bed, waiting for sleep to take hold of you. It’s weird to think this much about a guy you’ve just met, a guy who you’ve only had one conversation with and have left things up to chance in terms of seeing him again. 

-------

You’re the first one awake this morning, roused from your sleep by bright sunlight pouring through the window, even through the curtains. Contemplation of going back to sleep crosses your mind, but it’s no use. You’re up now, so you might as well make the most of your early morning. 

You love your friends dearly, but some alone time sounds like heaven right about now. There’s a coffee spot not far from where you’re staying that you remember seeing on your way in that seems like a perfect match to your solo walk, so you head there. You’ll be a nice friend and bring coffee home for when they eventually wake up too. 

After dropping them a text letting them know you’ve gone out, you set off. The walk back into town is short but serene, a welcome change from the hustle and bustle of your daily lives, and a reminder of why you’d all decided to vacation in this particular region of Greece in the first place. 

Someone calls out something that sounds like your name before you can step into the shop and you pause, casting a glance around to see if your ears might be playing tricks on you. You’ve only been here a few days, and the only other person who knows you other than your friends is…Lando. 

You squint a little harder to see through the glare of the sun, and lo and behold, there he is, hands linked behind his head. The grin that lifts your face is almost embarrassing, or would’ve been had Lando not been so eager upon seeing you wave at him. 

He’s clad in athletic shorts and a cutoff tee that shows off muscles you’re trying your very hardest not to stare at as he makes his way closer, curls tucked away in a baseball cap pulled low on his head. Headphones dangle from around his neck, and he’s panting, chest rising and falling heavily very clearly once he’s stopped in front of you. 

“Hey, good morning! I thought that was you,” He breathes, attempting to catch his breath. “Early riser too, I take it?” 

“Honestly, not usually! The sun decided I would be today, though, so…here I am.” 

“Here you are. Guess it was meant to be then, huh?” He chuckles, reaching up to flip his cap backwards. If you thought he was tan the night you met, he’s even tanner in the sun, bronze skin stretching over sinewy muscle that flexes as he sweeps a hand through his hair before tugging it back down in one smooth motion. “Doing a coffee run?” 

“Yeah, I’m the only one of us awake at this hour so I figured I’d bring them back a little something.” 

“You’re a saint. I’d let my mates suffer if it were me,” Lando snorts. 

You shrug. “Guess that’s the difference between the two of us.” 

“Yeah?” He hums, looking amused. “What else is different between you and me?” 

“Well, first of all, I would never be on a run at eight in the morning. Is someone punishing you, or is this a self-inflicted torture type thing?” 

That gets another laugh out of him, shoulders shaking with mirth. “Gotta keep in shape or my trainer might try to kill me with workouts instead.” 

“You’re an athlete?” You pry, intrigued. He looks the part, you think. Lean but not skinny, strong but not massively built. A runner, maybe? 

Lando freezes a split second, rocks from foot to foot, scratching at his nose. “Kind of, yeah.” 

“What’s your sport?” 

“Uh…golf. It’s more like a hobby than anything else.” 

“Golf,” You repeat, an amused smile poking at the edges of your mouth. “Can’t say I know a thing about it.” 

“Oh, it’s definitely something else, for sure. Super intense stuff, really grueling.” His words say one thing, but he’s grinning like he’s pulling your leg, lip pulled between his teeth in that same way as last night, nose scrunching adorably as he bobs his head quickly to further sell it. 

“Sure, if you say so. But d’you think your trainer would get mad if you cut your super intense training short to grab a cup of coffee with a friend?” 

You’re almost expecting him to say no, but Lando perks up instead, eyes crinkling happily at the corners. “Not at all. Shall we?” 

Over coffee, you find that Lando is an excellent conversationalist—funny and a good listener, an even better storyteller. He asks about you without seeming pushy or prying, and because of that you feel yourself relaxing a bit in his presence. Opening yourself up to the possibility of a good thing with him, no matter how short or fleeting it may be, whether it’s friendship or something more. 

A few weeks of summer in a place you've never been with a boy you don’t know is the time to be a little bolder. Chances are you’ll never see Lando again after this trip, so why not loosen up just a little bit? 

It’s only when more people start to trickle into the shop and you start to notice Lando’s eyes shifting over your shoulder more that you realize you’ve been here with him for a while now. And judging by the dozens of missed calls and texts from all three of your friends on your phone when you go to check it for the first time since you’d left, you’ve been gone a lot longer than you said you’d be. 

You know them well enough to know that they’re not above calling the local police to send out a search party for you if you don’t find your way back soon. 

“Friends wondering where you are?” 

You nod, sending a quick message that you are indeed alive and not kidnapped like they feared, before tucking your phone away again. “Guess I better get them their coffees for sure now, or else they might not let me back in the house.” 

“Lemme buy it for them,” He offers sincerely, offering you a lopsided grin. You shake your head rapidly at the suggestion, but he continues, “I’m the reason you’ve been gone so long, the least I can do is buy them drinks. Call it an apology for making them worry, yeah?” 

“You really don’t have to, Lando.” 

“I know. I want to,” He insists, looking truly genuine. First dessert last night, now coffee today. You have half a mind to push back a little more, but you get the feeling Lando is as persistent as he is handsome, so you taking a firm stance on something like this seems like a moot point. Giving in, you nod, and he mirrors it, looking proud. 

He lets you take the lead in reciting your friends’ orders once you’ve made your way back over to the front counter, stepping forward with a hand to the small of your back to pay for the drinks before you have any bright ideas to pull one over on him and pay for them yourself. 

The barista smiles politely, pen hovering above a cardboard cup. “And a name for that?” 

Lando casts a furtive glance around the area before leaning in and saying his name quietly, as if he’s worried he’ll run into someone who he doesn’t want to see. You notice, but don’t really pay it any mind. You understand far too well not wanting to talk to someone you're unprepared for. 

Soon enough Lando’s got the drinks in hand and you’re back outside, and he’s smiling again. You’ve noticed he does that a lot when he looks at you. You’re sure you’re the same way with him. 

“My mates and I, we’re planning on having a little barbeque at our villa tomorrow night. You should come,” Lando says encouragingly, tilting his head to the side. When your brows raise in surprise, he hastily adds, “And your friends too, obviously. We’d love the company.” 

“Ah! Um, I dunno. Wouldn’t wanna crash your thing.” 

“You wouldn't be. Seriously, come hang out. We’re fun, I promise!” 

“I just—I forget if we’ve got plans, that’s all.” You’re not lying when you say it, you truly forget if you’re free tomorrow night. Most of it stems from your awful memory, but a small part of it attributes to how your brain kind of stops working properly around Lando. 

“Right, well, you figure that out, and if you find you’ve got a free evening,” He balances the drinks deftly in one hand, the other fishing his phone out of his shorts pocket and swiping at the screen briefly before holding it out to you, “text me, let me know.” 

You’re not sure where you find the boldness to tap your phone number into his contacts, but you do it with confidence, saving it under your name and a smiley face. 

“Cute.” Lando smirks, chuckling as he sends a simple hi so you've got his number too. “Now, I believe these are yours, and…maybe I’ll see you tomorrow? If it’s meant to be.” 

You smile at the mirroring of last night’s words from him as you situate the cardboard tray in your own arms. “Maybe.” 

The smile hasn’t left your face even by the time you arrive back home, because you’ve been thinking about Lando the whole way. For a stranger you’ve met only yesterday, he’s sure been occupying a lot of space in your mind. You aren’t entirely sure how to feel about it. 

You’re already prepared for the berating you’re about to get as you close the front door behind you carefully, making your way to the kitchen.

“Where the hell have you been?” 

You look up to see all three of your friends sitting around the kitchen table, and none of them look particularly happy. You smile innocently, holding up the cardboard tray of drinks up as a peace offering. “Coffee?” 

“It better come with an explanation.” 

Nodding vigorously, you dole out each drink to your friends. “It does, I swear. I didn’t just disappear, I ran into—” 

“Hold the fuck on. Why does this say Lando? Why is that man’s name on my cup—” 

“Oh my god, you did not get coffee with him without telling us!” 

“You bitch!” 

That’s how you end up telling them the whole story—running into him in town, talking for ages, and that brings you to your next point. 

“We don’t have any plans for tomorrow night, do we?” 

“There’s the vineyard tour in the afternoon, but that should end around five. Why?” 

“Lando invited us to a barbecue at his villa,” You say quickly. That gets their attention immediately, all of their eyes widening in the same shocked looks. None of them answer your question though. “Is that…something we’d be interested in?” 

Samira is the first to snap out of it, mouth curving into a playful smirk. “Invited us, or invited you?” 

“Definitely just her.” 

“Whatever! Do we wanna go or not?” You grumble, doing your best to fight the grin threatening to overtake your face. The thought of him wanting to spend time with you brings you a teensy bit of satisfaction. 

“Of course we’re going!” 

After they’re done poking fun at you, you’re able to take a moment to top out a quick message to Lando. That barbecue invite still up for grabs? 

You're not expecting an immediate answer, but your phone dings with a text back before you even set it down. 

Lando: Of course. Plans fell through? 

You: seems like you’ve really made an impression on my friends 

Lando: Not sure whether to be scared or flattered…

You: your guess is as good as mine! we’ll find out tomorrow :)

Lando: Brb gotta go call my lawyer and update my will 

“You’re texting him right now, aren’t you?” 

You look up from your phone to see Camille leaning in the doorway to your room, a soft, knowing smile on her face. “Yeah, he—uh, he says he’s looking forward to meeting you guys again.” She comes to sit beside you, looking like she wants to talk about something. You set it aside, head tilting in a silent question. 

“Do you think you’ll stay in contact with Lando after we leave?” 

“I’m not sure. Haven’t really thought about it all that much, to be honest.”

If you do think about it, you haven’t even known Lando for more than a day. You’ve only just met him yesterday, seen him twice, one of which was completely spur of the moment. So what if that spur of the moment encounter was the most connected you’ve felt to someone in a long time? 

You don’t know him, and chances are, he’s not looking for anything serious. You don’t even know if you’re looking for anything serious. 

“It’s okay if you want to.” 

“I shouldn’t want to,” You say. It feels like you’re trying to convince yourself more than anything. You look to Camille for an answer, but she just pats your hand. “Right? I’m never gonna see him again, so I shouldn’t get attached.” 

“You don’t know that for sure, do you?” 

“I guess not. It feels scary, though. Opening yourself up to something when you don't know what’ll happen.” 

Camille hums, a placating, even comforting sound to soothe your worries. She’s always been pretty good at getting you to see the brighter side in things. “There’s fun in that too. Being spontaneous, surprising yourself. You never know, Lando could be just the thing you need, the one you didn’t know you were looking for. And if not, you don’t have to see him again. A win-win, I’d say.” 

She leaves you alone to your thoughts after that, left to ponder what exactly it is you want. It might be stupid and entirely over-optimistic of you, but Lando has already pulled you in. You’re not sure what it is about him. He makes you want more, want to know more. 

Whatever happens will happen, and if things don’t work out…well, Camille is right. You never have to see Lando again. 

His name flashes across your screen later in the night, right before you’re about to go to sleep. You’ve been texting back and forth all day, but this one is different. He’s video calling you right now. 

You stare at his name for longer than you should, finger hovering over the answer button a few beats before pressing it. His face pops into view once the call connects. Like you, he’s sitting in bed, leaned up against the headboard, cozied up in a soft looking jumper. He looks like he’s moments away from drifting off, but he called you, so he must want to talk. 

“Hi,” You say softly. 

“Hey, you.” He smiles, warm and sleepy and all squinty in a way that makes you want to crawl through the screen and tuck him into bed with a kiss to his forehead. “You must be tired.” 

“Eh, I’m alright. Why?” 

“‘Cause you’ve been running through my mind all day.” 

You let out a wildly unappealing snort of laughter at his poor attempt at a pick up line. “That’s terrible! Oh my god, that was awful, Lando, seriously.” 

“No?” His smile grows giddy, shoulders shaking with his chuckles. “Yeah, it was pretty bad, wasn’t it? Got you laughing though.” 

Conversation falls into the same easy nature as this morning, like you’ve known him for ages. He makes you laugh until your ribs hurt, smile until your cheeks feel the same. It still amazes you just how comfortable you feel around him, as someone who usually takes a while to warm up to people. 

Maybe you should take it as a sign. 

A jumble of muffle voices offscreen some time later makes Lando squint. “Hang on, I’ll be right back. Don’t hang up. ” He lets the phone drop onto the bed, checking once to make sure you’re still there before disappearing from sight. 

You hear his footsteps fade, then more voices you can’t quite make out. Someone laughs off in the distance, and then he’s back, resituating himself with the remnants of an amused grin on his lips. 

“Everything okay?” 

“My mates are yelling at me to turn off the light, so I’d better go,” He sighs goodnaturedly, lips turning down into a frown. Then he yawns widely, and you realize how late it’s gotten since you’ve picked up his call. Losing track of time when you’re talking to Lando seems to be a recurring theme. “I’m glad you’re coming tomorrow.” 

Your breath catches a little in your chest, both at his words and the way he’s looking at you through the screen as he says it, nothing but genuine. “Me too.” 

You’re starting to think this whole try not to get attached thing is going to be much harder than you thought. 

follow @katsu-library to be notified when i post new chapters :)

[rafesangelita]

what if rafe found kook!sweetheart!reader’s girl blog? omg and he see’s some nsfw reblogs…

warnings: use of the nickname ‘daddy’ (just once), reader is just a girl, 18+ links

a/n: i think i would die if this really happened omg

“i still think i should join you in the shower..” you looked up at rafe’s reflection from your vanity, a teasing smile playing on his lips. “we both know how that’ll end.” you laughed, adjusting your robe before twisting the door knob of your bathroom. “i’ll be right out.” rafe watched as you closed the door behind you, collapsing onto your bed with a sigh. he wanted nothing more than to get you underneath your sheets and, hopefully, have his head between your thighs.

just as he felt himself growing hard at the thought of you gasping his name, he heard your phone ding!

thinking nothing of it, he glanced at the device on your nightstand, a few more notifications coming in. his eyebrows knitted in confusion. you always had your phone silenced at this time of night. fingertips itching to check what was making your phone go off, he muttered a quick ‘fuck it.’ before grabbing the damned thing. “tumblr?” he narrowed his eyes at the unfamiliar app icon.

[11:41 PM] lanasweetheart liked your post: “something about a manly man getting the bestest sleep in a pink hyperfeminine bed (he’s so babygirl 🎀)”

rafe clicked the notif, a ‘what the fuck?’ falling from his lips when a picture of him sleeping next to you lit up the screen. tapping on the profile icon, rafe was in for a surprise when all your posts were now at the tips of his fingers. “three thousand notes?” he was in disbelief that a photo of the back of his head peeking out of your pink comforter had gotten so much traction. “girls really go crazy over that shit?” he laughed, full on scrolling now.

rafe thought it was cute that all your posts consisted of photo dumps of your nights out with your girlfriends, cute selfies with freshly done makeup, nail pics, some rant posts here and there about drama he already had the full scoop on, but then he came across a tag that said ‘୨ৎ thinking thoughts’ that completely flipped his brain inside out.

bf looked so dilfy today, should i ask him for babies?

“you totally should.” he whispered to himself, tongue running across his bottom lip as he kept reading. the next post was a reblog.

gorgeous gorgeous girls pout and whine and whimper instead of using words

“yeah, you do.” rafe could feel heat starting to settle in the pit of his stomach. you were always so sweet and graceful, your boyfriend couldn’t help but feel a smidge of jealousy that an app got to see this side of you before he did.

i just want him to break me sometimes. slap me, choke me, degrade me.. rough me up a little bit that’s all :(

“holy shit.” he cleared his throat, his cock now straining against the denim material of his jeans. he would’ve happily done all of that for you if you asked, but then again maybe that was the problem. you shouldn’t have to. apart of rafe felt bad for invading your privacy like this, but man was he glad that he did.

love when daddy picks out my lingerie for the night <3

rafe’s jaw was on the ground. ‘daddy’???? oh, you were so going to get it. “what are you doing?” rafe jumped at the sound of your voice, having not heard the water to the shower stop. you were in nothing but a robe, the scent of your strawberry shampoo filling up his senses. “what am i doing?” he repeated your question, getting up as he placed your phone back on your nightstand.

“yeah.. did i get a text message or something?” your heart started pounding in your ears as you watched rafe’s eyes grow dark. “no. no text message. ‘was just looking through your filthy tumblr account.” you blinked, chest rising and falling as your blood ran cold. “oh?” you backed away with each step rafe took until you were finally blocked by your wall. “mhmm, turns out my sweet little girlfriend wants to be treated like a whore in bed.”

you swallowed thickly, a gasp leaving your lips when rafe’s hand wrapped around your throat. “wanna be roughed up?” he laughed, dragging you over to your bed before ripping the robe off of your body. “i’ll fuckin’ rough you up.”

[lcriedlastnight]

Lando calling reader his wife even though they’ve only been together for about a year

oh my god yes anon i love this idea!

tw: fem!reader, swears maybe, she's on the shorter side! lmk if you want me to add anything.

w/c: 944

lando was the perfect boyfriend. he was everything you had ever wanted in a partner. you liked to think he was literally made for you. how can someone be so perfect for you and not be? it was not possible.

you loved pet names and he loved calling you them. you loved touching him in anyway you could and he loved touching you ten times more. you loved doing things for him to show him just how much and how deeply you cared for and loved him and he loved sitting back and letting you help him destress from a busy race weekend. when you needed space? he would just go away to race for the weekend and let you realise that you could barely function without him and his love.

you had been out shopping with some of your friends for one of their birthdays. it had been nice catching up with them but your separation issues from your boyfriend had ended up kicking in and you could not wait to get home. you were itching to just sit on his lap and have him explain the plot of some dumb film that he had put on while waiting for you to come home.

when you trod back into lando's place, slipping off your shoes and leaving them by the door, the first thing you hear is lando's infectious laugh booming from his streaming room. it makes you smile as soon as you hear it even though it makes you realise you probably will not be able to sit with him for at least another hour, at least. your hands are still holding onto your shopping bags as you pass by his room as quietly as you possibly can, so as not to disturb him and his friends. you dump the bags in your bedroom and plan to head back into the living room to watch some tv and relax.

lando hears you this time and calls out for you, the door is creaked open a touch as you prepare yourself to be seen by millions of lando's fans. as you enter the room you hear one of the guys lando was streaming with (you were almost positive it was ginge) ask lando something you could not make out. lando's response almost kills you off though, his fans too.

"nah, the wife is just back home from shopping so i'll be finishing this game then hopping off." if you were holding anything it would have just fallen and shattered to the ground. you hoped your expression was hidden from his camera. you clear your throat and lando spins around mid-game to greet you. he slides his gaming headphones down to rest on his neck and reaches back to mute the stream but not before he mutters out in the warmest voice he can muster, a "hiya, honey."

you smile down at him as he shuffles his chair closer to you then sticks hims arms out like a child, practically begging for a hug from you. your mind is still stuck on the wife thing but you fall into his arms willingly anyway.

you straddle him on the big gaming chair, the tops of your heads at the only things that can be seen on the camera. lando presses a few kisses into your hair as he holds you close.

"missed you while you were gone." lando speaks into your hair, it makes you laugh.

"i was gone for three hours."

"ugh, don't remind me! i almost died from bordem." lando groans, head falling back against the soft material of the chair. you just laugh into his neck, nose brushing his throat softly.

"drama queen." you roll your eyes.

lando looks down at you with the biggest heart eyes you have ever seen and you feel your heart melt into a massive puddle in your ribcage, you feel it drip down to settle into your stomach.

"so i'm your wife then, huh?" you ask with a smile and a teasing tone. you feel lando tense up a little but he relaxes as soon as he feels your smile against his skin. his hand comes to splay out across your back to keep you supported. then he is smiling as he explains himself.

"guess i'm just so used to called you my wife when i'm with my friends that i accidentally did it on stream. sorry honey, didn't mean to embarrass you." lando says, almost shyly. his eyes peer down at yours to see your reaction.

"you call me your wife to your friends?" you smile back at him, hand coming up to run through his messy curls. the other resting on the side of his neck.

lando grins a stupid big smile at you as your hand rakes through his hair. "well you're gonna be one of these days right? might as well get the practise in. don't wanna slip up and call my wife my girlfriend now do i?" he is cheeky in his words and tone but you let him off. even though his logic makes no sense. you know it makes sense to lando so you let that go too.

"okay, sure. whatever you say husband." you did not think lando's smile could get any bigger. you were so wrong. he laughs and holds you close. little did either of you know that lando had missed the mute button and around three thousand of lando’s fans, plus all his friends had heard you both. lando would find out once he went back on his phone the next day, spending the rest of the evening and then the night with his girlfriend (wife).

[webslingingslasher]

Hi can I ask for a blurb where Peter accidently hits the reader while playing or something like he sometimes forgets about his super strength but fluff at the end please 🥺.

this got away from me but this was so fun and cute to write!

“I kinda want a black eye.” 

Your boyfriend slowly lowered the bag of peas on his left eye, his elbow dropped daringly, forcing you to look at the dark purple hue. 

“Oh, really?” 

You nod, “it looks gnarly but it’d be cool to have one.” 

“Baby, my heartbeat is currently taking place from my eyeball. You don’t want one.” 

Stretching across the space on the couch you raise Peter’s hand back up so he can ice the bruise some more, it does look painful. 

“I think if you loved me you’d give me one.” 

Peter took a second to see if that sentence would resonate with you but it hadn’t. 

“We should go to the women's shelter and spread that knowledge.” 

You scoff, “they weren't asking for it, Peter. I am.” 

Your boyfriend lowered his temporary ice pack and reached a hand out, his thumb rubbed under your eye, you almost thought he was thinking about it. Almost. 

“I’d never. I would, however, patch you up if you ever got one.” 

“Do you have a friend that could-” 

“No.” 

—------------------------------------

Oh FUCK did your eye HURT. 

It was on a level ten throb level, it felt like a ring stretching to your eyebrow and nose. You couldn’t even open it, all you could do was press your hand to it and try and stop the pressure from building, it didn’t work. 

You were able to blink it open just enough to be blinded by the living room light, you’ve never been so light sensitive. Squeezing it shut you winced, you tried to be understanding and calm; it was an accident after all. But the pain was spreading all over your face and you had a target right on the corner of your right eye, and it hurt. 

If your right eye could open it’d be shedding tears too, you had one continuance stream coming from your left eye. 

Your voice bubbles with pain, “petey, it hurts.” 

Your boyfriend couldn’t even breathe right now, he had hurt you. The one thing he swore he would never, could never do, and he did it. Panic flooded his body, panicked he’s caused serious damage, panicked you’d be scared of him, panicked you’d dump him, panicked your dad would come curbstomp him. 

“It hurts so bad,” he knows you’re calling out for him, he knows you need him, but all he could replay was the ‘whack!’ in his head. It wasn’t gentle in the slightest, you whipped away from him with a hiss, your hand immediately covering your eye. You had been okay at first but after a minute had passed it became nearly unbearable.

Peter knows how bad a black eye hurts, and he just gave you one. 

His short, barely there breaths start to stutter.  

And suddenly Peter couldn’t see because his vision was muddled by tears, he tried to blink them back but they ran. He can’t remember the last time he’s cried, but this brought him to his knees. He never wanted to punish himself more than in that second. He should’ve been quicker, he should’ve known you were behind him, he has those goddamn senses and they did nothing in that moment. 

“Peter!” A desperate cry for attention, you don’t know what to do, it hurts more than you could imagine. 

You look up at your boyfriend still standing in shock where he jumped away from you after hitting you directly in your eye. A wrestling battle, you had tried to take him down after he’d pinned you three times. In an effort of a sneak attack you crawled up the couch and tried to jump on his back where he sat on the floor. You dived and at the last moment his hand… well you don’t know what he was trying to do but it connected hard to your cheekbone. 

Your back hit the couch and you held your hand as you hissed and groaned in hurt, Peter scrambled up and backed up behind the coffee table, as if he was scared to be around you.  

He’s crying, your boyfriend’s crying. You’ve been punched and he’s crying. 

“I’m.. I’m sorr.. Fuck.” Peter snaps out of it, you need him. He crosses to the couch in two steps, his hand cupping your cheek. It makes everything in him deflate when you flinch as he touches you, he bites his bottom lip to stop a sob. “Baby, I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry.” 

His heart hurts as you cry, his thumb taps at your hand covering the damaged eye. The one he caused. 

“Let me see it, please?” Peter said it like a question, like he’d ever be lucky enough to have that privilege. 

You sob, “it hurts.” 

Peter blinks, more tears. He can’t believe he’s crying over this, he also can’t believe he hit his fucking girlfriend. 

“I know, I know it does, baby. Please let me see it.” 

You choke in air to stop your crying, it works. You slowly lift your hand off your eye, it’s not throbbing as much but the pressure has inflated tenfold and you couldn’t open it if you tried, it was swollen shut. You tried to gauge a reaction out of him, to see how bad it is. You forgot your boyfriend had the world’s best poker face. 

Peter wanted to curl up into a ball when he saw the damage. 

It was bruising, and swollen and you couldn’t open your eye and it was all his fault. 

His fault, his fault, his fault. 

If he was normal, if he was a normal boyfriend, this wouldn’t have happened. A normal teenager doesn’t have the strength to hold a ferry or stop a runaway bus, he does. And he used that strength on you. 

His powers, his abilities, his strength.

His fault, his fault, his fault. 

“You need ice.” Is all that could come out. A wince wraps over your face when you nod, you try to sit up and groan. “Everything hurts. How do you do this? Pain has to affect you differently, right?” Peter ignored you as he backed away, you don’t think he’s ever been so aware of his surroundings and actions. 

He shouldn’t be getting ice, he shouldn’t be putting it in a plastic bag and wrapping a rag around it, he shouldn’t be grabbing you tylenol extra strength, he shouldn’t be icing your black eye he caused. 

His fault, his fault, his fault. 

It scared you how quiet he was, the accidental punch was just that. You weren’t upset at him or scared he would do it again, you were scared how odd he was acting. He was strangely quiet and standoffish, when he came back to you with ice and pills you watched him think about holding the bag to your eye but stopped and put it in your hand. 

He shifted his weight and looked at the couch, he stepped back and sat on the coffee table. 

Peter cried and was quiet and standoffish and scared to touch you. He was terrified of himself, you may be physically hurt but he was emotionally broken, his one major thing washed down the drain. Accident or not he gave you a black eye, and it was tearing him up inside. 

You hummed when ice hit the hot skin, suddenly it didn’t hurt. 

“Am I right, super high pain tolerance?” 

It’s like you broke through a wall, Peter looked up at you like he just found out you were in the room. 

“I hit you.” 

You would’ve rolled your eyes if you could’ve. 

“That’s a little dramatic.” 

Peter shook his head, upset you weren’t upset. 

“I hit you hard, I hurt you. I…” His hand pulled at his curls so hard you grit your teeth. “I fucking hit you,” he whispered it, like his own mind couldn’t wrap it around. 

He doesn’t pull out the fuck word often. 

You thought about reaching out for his hand, but you think that’d made things worse. 

“I’m not scared of you, petey. It was an accident.” 

“I swore i’d never hurt you, that I would never hit you and I didn’t-” 

“Mean it.” You cut him off, “you didn’t mean it.” 

Peter rubbed at his jaw and blinked, you saw tears puddling and you wanted to do nothing more than hold him. He couldn’t stop thinking about it, you lowered the bag of ice from your eye prepared to switch seats. He wouldn’t let you. 

“Ice.” Cold and hard, like you had no other option. You didn’t question him, you followed instructions. 

“Remember when you asked me to give you a black eye months ago?” 

It was a joke. Sure, you saw a tiktok with a girl who had one and you couldn’t deny it looked a little cool. Then seeing one on Peter the same night you couldn’t shake it. You were just playing around, it’s not like it was that serious. 

“I was joki-” 

“I told you I'd never, and I did. I hit my girlfriend and gave her a black eye.” 

Disgust. That’s what it was. He was disgusted with himself. 

You sat up straight, your lip curled up. 

A black eye? Sick.

“Wait, really?” 

Peter looked up at your excitement, it came from nowhere. 

“You gave me a black eye? I have a black eye right now? For real, for real?” 

This wasn’t a cute or funny thing, and he won’t let you make it be one. 

He hit you.

“This isn’t funny, I hit you and you’re happy you got a black eye?” 

“Pete, I forgive you. And not just cause you gave me a black eye, because it was an accident and you didn’t mean to and you’re obviously extremely remorseful.” 

“But I-” 

You reached out for his hand, “forgive yourself. You forgive yourself.” 

It wouldn’t be instant, until your eye healed, which would be at a much slower rate than him, he wouldn’t be able to fully forgive himself. 

“No more wrestling.” 

You scoff, “no more sneak attacks, how about that?” 

He shook his head, “I don’t want this happening again.” 

“If the situation was reversed would you want me to hold it against myself?” 

Peter scoffed, “absolutely not, but it wouldn’t hurt me like it does you.” 

“So you do have a super high pain tolerance.” 

He snapped and ripped his hand from yours, “yes, I do have a super high pain tolerance. I also have super strength and give my girlfriend black eyes.” 

You held your hand up, the other one slightly freezing from the cold but you were too scared to take it off. 

“First off, plural. Second, please stop. You’re making me feel bad, I’m really okay and I’m not mad and I forgive you a thousand million percent.” 

Peter inhaled sharply, he has to believe you. He’s more shook up than you are and he guesses he should agree with you, you were the hurt one. If you forgive him he could try and do the same.

“I think you need to give me a black eye to even it out.” 

You gasp like your offended at his words, your hand lays over your heart. 

“I’d never!” 

Your boyfriend ran his tongue over his teeth and gave you a dead stare, his hands pushed him off the coffee table. His words grumbled, “toxic.” 

[livbedum]

maybe next time?

black cat!reader x jj maybank

summary four times jj maybank asked you out , and the one time you finally said yes

warnings pining , rejection , simp!jj , ex!rafe , profanity.

18+ minors dni

one it was the night after you’d run into each other for the first time. rafe was throwing another party , and so obviously , you were there despite breaking up the night before. it was coming towards the end of the party , and a lot of people were leaving , but just as many were lingering in the house.

you were sitting on the kitchen counter by yourself , sipping on your last drink of the night. your eyes followed the line out the door , waiting to see if any of your friends were going to stop and grab you. the answer was no , so you slid off the countertop and dumped your drink out. you knew it was dumb , but you might as well take advantage and crash in rafe’s room. get something out of the night.

you turned the corner , about to ditch the closing hour when you run into someone. thankful you dumped your drink out , you still cursed. “can you watch where the fuck you’re going? jesus!” you huffed , straightening your all too short dress for the millionth time that night before looking up at who was in your way. “oh! sorry!”

jj was smiling at you , waiting for you to be done accosting him. “that’s my bad , but there is a bright side,” he replied , leaning against the wall , somehow blocking your path more.

your eyes looked for rafe anywhere shortly before tilting your head to the side. “what’s the bright side? this is a pretty shit party , jj”

that took him by surprise. he truly didn’t expect you to know his name. he cleared his throat , getting back to business. he had planned this for twenty-four hours at this point. can’t back out now. “bright side is you could leave with me,” he suggested , keeping his cool, “y’know , ditch the cameron’s mansion and kick it poguie style for the rest of the night.”

he noticed your eyes flickering else where. rafe appeared behind him , at the top of the stairs— right where you were headed. his blue eyes were easily recognizable as beyond pissed off. “i’m sorry. i gotta go,” you rushed out , watching rafe head to his bedroom, “maybe next time?” you didn’t mean it. you just didn’t want to be mean to jj.

jj turned , eyes following your frame as you skipped steps to make it upstairs faster. how could he forget that you were rafe’s girlfriend? he knew you guys were on and off , the whole island heard your arguments sometimes , but how did he forget? fucking idiot.

two it was about a month later. a month of catching your eye in public , a month of ranting to pope and john b. that’s where jj was at the moment. he called an emergency meeting with the boys at the chateau.

“dude , your little girlfriend is single now. just text her!” pope groaned , wishing the couch he laid on would swallow him whole. granted , he liked you ; you were always nice to him whenever he dropped groceries off at your house , but he was tired of hearing about you. in the nicest way.

jj rolled his eyes. “okay , first of all , she’s not my little girlfriend. second of all , your little girlfriend doesn’t exist. and third of all , i don’t have her number , nimrod!” they had exhausted all ideas to not get him rejected this time.

“i have her number,” john b piped up , swinging his phone in front of jj’s face.

“i’d kill someone for that number , bird shit. give it,” jj threatened , holding his hand out.

hey

who is this?

jj maybank

you can call me your next boyfriend if you want though

i’m okay! thx tho! maybe next time <3

three a week later , you ran into jj at the wreck. you were getting dinner with your parents before they left town for a week. something to do with work. “y/n?”

you closed your eyes and took a deep breath whenever whenever you put the voice to who it was. “y/n , do you know that boy?” your mother asked , nodding to jj who was walking towards your table. you nodded and put a smile on your face.

this was not happening.

“hey , y/n! i thought that was you,” jj smiled , grabbing a seat and sitting down. at the table. with your parents. “do you mind?” he asked , referring to him sitting.

your dad waved him off , standing to go get the bill , and your mother followed behind. what the hell? “hi , jj,” you state , trying your hardest to keep the blush from surfacing on your cheeks, “what can i do for you today?”

“a date. just one,” he answered prepared , like he was certain this was the time you were going to say yes.

you grimace , taking a deep breath before shaking your head. “me and rafe , like , just got back together,” you explained , feeling bad for jj at this point.

jj let his head drop to the table , being dramatic as always. “when are you gonna give me a chance? you’ve given cameron like fifty!” it was a joke. you knew that , and you couldn’t stop yourself from laughing a little bit.

“well , maybe next time?” you suggested , catching the eyes of your parents who looked ready to leave, “gotta go. parents waiting on me. see ya around , j!” you bid him goodbye , standing up and squeezing his shoulder before you left.

four you and sarah had plans to go to the beach and watch the baby sea turtles hatch. lo and behold , jj was on the beach with his friends , surfing. “oooh , your boyfriend is here!” sarah laughed at you , using her little singy song voice she always did when she teased you about jj.

she was the only one that you admitted to about liking jj a little bit. “shut up! he’ll hear you and come over—“

“john b!” she was already calling her secret lover over and waving the other boys over too.

“you’re dead. you’re so dead,” you whispered , plastering a smile on your face as they all arrived, “hey , guys!” they all stood above you and sarah as you were both lounging in the sand.

“y/n , you wanna go on a date?” jj asked , scratching his head like the idea just came to him.

everyone laughed , looking to you , waiting for you to finally say yes. sarah had been talking to john b about the whole situation , giving him intel on ways jj could convince you , and he was bitching about how jj wouldn’t shut the hell up about you.

“no , jj,” you sighed , standing up and brushing yourself off before picking your bag off the ground and walking away. you heard sarah whine your name , but you didn’t bother looking back.

you can hear the shuffling of sand coming closer to you and assumed it was her. “is he stupid?” you groaned , continuing to walk, “i mean , like , why can’t he ask me nicely? like , it’s not hard to fucking do some big gesture or , like , make it romantic! fuck!” you slowed and turned back to look at sarah , needing some confirmation you weren’t crazy for wanting a little more than asking you out at a party or in front of your friends. that’s when you actually stop and see jj walking behind you — not sarah. your could feel your heart sink to your stomach. “are you kidding me?” you just shook your head and turned back around , cheeks hot and tears starting to trickle down your face. how embarrassing?

five sarah had advised john b to tell jj to leave you alone. for awhile , if not indefinitely. you had called her crying later that evening , wailing on about how embarrassing that was for you. you understood that it was you that had said all of that to jj , but it was equally embarrassing that he had asked you out in front of your friends so casually. did he think he didn’t have to try? and again the next morning , still just as distraught over the situation as you were the night before.

“it’s just that after rafe everyone just thinks i don’t have standards , sare. like , i know me and rafe weren’t good all of the time , but at least he tried to be romantic. that’s more —“ as you were ranting you could hear people downstairs in your house , which shouldn’t have been happening considering your parents were at work. “i think there’s someone in my house.”

“what?” sarah asked , standing up from her own bed and going to look out her window to check your house herself, “oh , no.”

“what?” it was your turn to ask.

sarah couldn’t believe jj right now. a smile made its way onto her face ; she knew this was good. “i would go downstairs if i was you,” she suggested , hanging up the phone.

you knew you were somewhat safe is sarah gave you the go ahead , but you still crept around to the staircase slowly. you could hear the chattering off people more clearly and them moving around your house like it was their own. “i have a gun!” you lied, “so you better leave!” your voice was loud from the beginning , trying your best to scare whoever or whatever it was downstairs before continuing your trek.

and that’s when you saw it. there were a handful of people moving flowers into your house that was already practically full of them , and jj was there conducting everything. “okay people , her dad said that she usually goes for a walk on sunday mornings , so i think we’re losing daylight here! we gotta get this place full before she gets home!”

you kept walking down the stairs , eyeing your favorite flowers moving in in bundles and filling the floor. “jj?” you called out , not bothered by the fact that you were still in your pajamas , your hair not ready , and no makeup on your face. was this actually happening? “what is this?” you asked , walking to him when he turned at your voice.

“oh , fuck!” jj whined , throwing his hands up in the air, “you weren’t supposed to be here!”

“this is my house!” you laughed, “what are you doing?”

jj turned to the side a little , calling at the people moving throughout your house to take a break. “this was supposed to be all romantic and shit or whatever , and you were supposed to come home and it was all done. fuck—“ he was rambling at this point , hands running through his blonde locks. “i was gonna be all swooney and swift of your feet-y and shit!” he added , pointing at you like you should know what he’s talking about.

“what are you doing , jj?” you asked again , stepping another shy step closer.

“i’m asking you out on a date. a proper one and all,” he finally answered , ocean eyes boring into your glossy ones. this was too good ; you didn’t deserve this. not after what happened on the beach. “so , whaddya say? gonna let me take you out for real?” he asked with a soft shrug.

your jaw dropped to start speaking , but no words came out. you blinked hard a couple of times , trying to wake yourself up from this dream. that’s what it had to have been. “i — this is the cutest thing anyone has ever done for me , jj. yes , i’ll go on a date with you.”

“oh , thank god,” he breathed out , hand clutching at his chest, “i swear i thought about just moving away if you rejected me another time , sweetheart.”

taglist @hotvampdragon @vivian-555 @eivyyy-mstr @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account

ahhh here it is! show me that it’s not terrible please<3 it’s not proofread yet , but once i put out the next black cat!reader work it will be:)

[reiderwriter]

🧺 Any More 🧺

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

For the CM Kink Bingo Challenge 2024

Requested: spencer realizing that he’ll never love someone as much as he loves you. (whether that be because of a case or what have you), his mind is absolutely blown with how much he worships you and how much you love and care for him and he shows you that with the softest most sickeningly sweet sex you and him has ever done. <3

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI! Discussions of case details, case burnout, very close friends to lovers, oral (f receiving), vanilla sex (p in v penetration). Discussions of mental health, and two idiots in love.

A/N: I'm hitting the prompt Vanilla for this one, so please don't be scared off by the KinkBingo tags! I had a lot of fun writing this one (and adding Pride and Prejudice quotes into the smut scene because HELLO). Let me know what you think in the replies~♡

Masterlist || Bingo Board

You hadn't seen Spencer in 100 days. Which in the grand scheme of things wasn't that long, trapped in the purgatory of a ‘what if’ the way you had been for the last eight years. 

You'd lived without him for longer than 100 days before. He'd been in prison, you'd been on assignments, you'd lived an entire life before meeting him, but now somehow 100 days was too much time, and you were exhausted. You understood why Spencer had to take some time away from you, from the team in an official capacity after everything he'd been through. You supported him even. 

But when even your free time didn't overlap anymore, you wondered if your relationship would ever be the same again. 

Spencer was a friend, your best friend, probably. You'd arrived on the BAU team, he'd rattled off some statistics, stammering the way through them, and you'd immediately warmed to the man. He was brilliant, funny, and fiercely loyal, and you tried your best to protect him even when the job seemed designed to break people like him into thousands of little pieces. 

You'd tried to convince him to leave before, after Maeve had died. You didn't want to see him heart broken again, but no one else had seemed to agree. 

“Reid needs purpose,” they'd said. “Reid needs something to do.” 

What Reid needed was to not end up dead before he had a chance to be happy, and happiness didn't come often in your field of work. 

You'd been almost vindicated a year later when he'd been shot again, almost fatally. Vindicated, maybe but distraught and inconsolable. Morgan had to carry you screaming and clawing out of his hospital room multiple times. It sounded stupid enough to yourself that it was only then you realized your feelings for the man. 

You wanted to be Spencer Reid's happiness, which was why you were so lost without him. 

He was coming back on Monday, and at least you had the weekend to sort your feelings out about everything.not just about him, but about the job you'd found didn't fit you well enough anymore, about the team you loved like family, about the relationship you knew would likely never come to fruition. 

You dumped your bags at your door when you'd arrived in your house that night, pushed yourself into your bedroom and let yourself collapse on your bed, balling up into as cozy a position as you could. You didn't even bother taking your jacket off, you just let your brain haze over and sleep rush in. 

Three quiet raps at your door lifted you up and out of bed again, not an hour later. 

You grabbed your phone, grabbed the second go-bag you kept at your house, put your shoes back on, and opened the door, expecting Emily and a new case. 

“Where are we going?” You said, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes, not even looking up at your guest. 

“Hopefully, nowhere? I brought takeout.” 

Your eyes widened then, taking in all 185cm of Doctor Spencer Reid, tweed jacket and plastic bag full of chow mein included. 

“Spencer,” you breathed out, like a sigh of relief, letting the bag drop to the floor next to the first one and letting yourself into his arms. 

He held you carefully there for a second before leading you back into the apartment, wrapping an arm around you and ruffling your hair. It was brotherly, and it made you sick to your stomach. 

“What are you doing here?” 

“Emily said you were back from a case,” he started, unpacking the takeaway from the containers. “And it feels wrong to eat this without you.” 

You rolled your eyes and followed him into the kitchen, pulling two forks out of the drawer nearer you and stabbing them in the top of your two cups. 

“Hey, I can use chopsticks now,” he said, defending himself against an inside joke. Spencer was always useless with his hands. 

“I don't care if you can use them, I care that they don't accidentally end up stabbing me,” you said, taking yourself back to your bedroom, Spencer following. 

“You'd hardly die from being stabbed by a wooden chopstick, maybe a papercut or a splinter but-” 

“But you're just bad enough that I don't want to risk it.” 

You kicked off your shoes again and climbed onto your bed. Spencer followed. 

“Remind me again why we aren't sitting on your couch?” 

“Uncomfortable.” 

“Or at your breakfast bar?” 

“Glorified filing cabinet right now. Eat.” 

He shook his head but complied, leaning back against your pillows as you both began carefully eating. Silently, you pulled your laptop onto your bed, opened it up, and pressed play on a movie, one you'd seen more than once, and you'd forced Spencer to watch before as well. 

In a comfortable, friendly silence, you finished your food. You stretched out in a yawn once and then curled into his side, letting his mumbling voice, repeating the movie lines as they were spoken, lull you softly into sleep. 

Spencer knew he had to leave, but he couldn't bring himself to wake you. The movie had finished hours ago, he'd closed the laptop and turned off the bug lights, but he couldn't leave. 

Unlike you, he hadn't counted the days that you'd been apart. He hadn't needed to. He knew you'd be waiting there for him when he returned, knew you'd give him a smile and a pat on the back, and immediately start bouncing ideas off of him. It was what he loved about you. 

As he laid next to you in your bed, a place he'd absolutely been before, his heart thumped. Just once, but hard. 

Even in sleep, you looked exhausted. Your shirt was crumpled, hair a mess, you were still wearing makeup, and he knew he'd probably get an earful for letting you sleep like that in the morning. You were a mess, and he still wanted you. 

The thought came to him suddenly, another painful thump of his chest echoing in his mind. He rubbed absent mindedly at his chest as if experiencing heartburn. In the dim light of the room, he let his head drop to the pillow and wrapped two shaky arms around you and pulled you in closer. 

The two of you were a picture - both in suits, both with badges still somewhere on your person, both dearly clinging to the person they feared losing the most. 

When you woke the next morning, it was actually the afternoon. 

“Spencer,” you groaned, melting under the heat of his embrace. Somehow, during the night, he'd rolled on top of you, pressing you into the bed with a delightful pressure, head nuzzled into your neck, arms tucked around your waist. 

“Spencer, we should get up,” you said again, forcing your eyelids apart as your mascara tried to glue them together. 

“Mmmmhh,” he groaned, moving to pick himself up off you for a minute but lowering himself again. If asked, he'd blame your hand in his hair, stroking the rogue curls gently, as if he were a prized pet and you their carer. 

“Spencer, its 2pm.” 

“On a Saturday.” You laughed at how pouty his voice sounded, but he complied and rolled off of you slightly, arms still wrapped around you. 

“Come on. Get up. I've got some clothes that might fit you, let's get you out of the tweed.” 

He huffed but nodded and lifted himself halfway to upright, eyes still closed lazily as he let in the light millimetre by millimetre. 

“God, my face feels horrible,” you said, itching at your nose. “How did we even sleep so long like this? My belt is still on, Spencer, my belt.” 

“If you were still wearing a weapon, then I'd be worried,” he smiled. 

You shot him a sarcastic look and finally detangled yourself, only to clasp his hands and pull him forward as well, letting him trail you to your closet. 

“Here, change in the bathroom,” he nodded and walked away, following directions with eyes still closed, as if it were really his apartment and not your own. 

100 days without him, and it was as if it had only been 100 hours. Your entire body chemistry changed when he was around, the stick holding your spine rigidly in place, dissolving into calm, into a smile and a free giggle. It felt right again, and you almost forgot you'd ever felt wrong. 

After briefly changing, you swapped place with Spencer, who'd exited the bathroom with a toothbrush hanging out of his mouth and wet hair. 

“Dry it for me?” He asked, sitting on your couch, and you nodded your ascent. A shower and a quick change later, and you were doing just that. 

As much as he tried to keep his head upright, it kept lolling onto your thigh, yawns stretching out of him as he nuzzled closer to you. 

“Spencer, you're like a big kid, keep your head up.” 

“I'm not a kid,” he laughed, hooking his arms behind your knees and nuzzling closer into your soft sweats. “I'm just tired.” 

“You're right. A child would probably be better behaved.” 

“Our child would be,” he sighed, but you'd already turned the hairdryer back on, drowning out everything. Everything but that thump again. A child, he was thinking about children, and more importantly, he was thinking about your children. With him. 

He'd always imagined himself with a family, knowing it would ultimately stay in his imagination. But for a second, his visions changed. It wasn't just a child or two. It was you. Thump. 

Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. 

He only released the image when you finally pushed his head off of you and stood, turning away from him to get a glass of water from your kitchen. 

“So, any plans today? Books to read, papers to mark, undergrads to run away screaming from?” You let the ice water cool your hot cheeks, but kept your back to him. You were hot, embarrassed, and you were looking at him in a sickeningly sweet way that could only be described as love struck or struck dumb. 

“No, no, I finished all my obligations at the college yesterday,” he said, following behind you and picking up your cup when you set it down, taking a sip himself. 

“I was… I was actually hoping we could spend some time together? Unless you had plans, which is totally fine-” 

“No, Spencer, yeah, I have no plans, that's…. Well I have to do laundry, which is a bit boring but, no. No plans.” 

“Laundry?” 

“Two week case in Florida, I don't know how you didn't smell me yesterday, Spencer. I'd be running for the hills.” 

He laughed and stepped away again, grabbing the two go bags by the door and coming back into your space. 

“How about we get this done now so we can spend the day in a Who-Trek marathon?” 

“Make that a Who-Greys Anatomy Marathon, and you have yourself a deal.” 

He pouted again, and you snorted at the sight, taking another sip of water to calm yourself before you could react safely to that face. 

“Come on, you know you've been dying to know what happens next at the Grey Sloane Memorial Hospital.” 

“I thought it was called the Seattle Grace Mercy?” 

“Oh we better get to that laundry now. You have a lot to catch up on.” 

Grabbing a bag in one hand and his free hand in your other, you made your way down to your building's laundry room. But despite the man by your side and the relaxing day threatening to stretch ahead of you, a gloom caught you in the corridors. 

You'd worked for two weeks, practically solid. You'd killed a man two days ago, or at least someone on your team had multiple shots having been fired. Another day on your job, another unsub felled, and everyone else was content with this just being a part of the job description. 

It felt like each step towards the laundry room, each thing you did that was normal, that was regular, threw back in your face the pain you endured to save lives. 

The bag in your hand weighed you down, pulling you lower and lower by the second. 

You reached the laundry room, and you found the weight almost unbearable, stopping just before you could step in. You didn't have to think about what came next though, because suddenly the bag was out of your hands and Spencer was sorting your laundry for you. 

“It's a Saturday, so your neighbour's won't complain if we separate the darks and lights into two machines, will they?” He asked, not looking up at you as he worked pouring out the fabric softener and the detergent. “Y/N?” 

You hadn't noticed the lightness in your body until the tears hit your cheeks, the weight gone with his support. 

“Y/N, what is it? What's wrong?” He said, hands cupping your face, because of course he was immediately at your side. 

“I-I can't do it, Spencer…” your voice shook, pitching upwards, your vision blurring with tears. 

“Can't do what, Y/N? Talk to me please, let me help?” 

“I can't do laundry!” You said, finally bursting into a full fit of tears and burying your head in his waiting chest. 

“L-Laundry?” He said, trying not to laugh, but the smile slipping out anyway now you were holding him. 

You only sobbed again, nodding into his shirt, aware you were probably leaving snot all over it but not being able to care. It was your shirt anyway. You would just have to add it back to your laundry pile. 

The thought set you off on another wave of sobs, and Spencer set about comforting you again. Keeping an arm wrapped around you, he put his quarters into the machines and set them off before quickly ushering you back up the stairs into your apartment. 

“Y/N? Y/N, please talk to me,” he begged, smoothing your hair out of your eyes as you tried to gather yourself.

“I don't…. I can't….” You took a breath again, aware of the way your breathing hitched in your chest as you did. 

“I don't think I can do this anymore,” you said, and his eyes widened quickly. 

“This? Y/N, if you mean this as in us, then I can't-” 

“This job,” you clarified, hands digging into the soft flesh of his arms further as he held you, finally sitting back on your couch. 

“The job. Okay, the job. That's okay. We all feel like this at some point.” 

You sniffed again and refused to meet his eyes. 

“But this isn't like the other times this - It's like my whole b-body is protesting, and I can't sleep, and if I don't, then I might get sloppy and an unsub could-” 

“Y/N, focus on my voice. You're spiralling. Listen to my voice, let's take some breaths, and think about this for a second.” 

He guided you through some breathing, a hand on your back tapping out beats even as his voice grew quiet. 

When you finally relaxed, you were sat on top of him, his hand rubbing circles into your back. 

“I think it started when you left,” you whispered. “When you went to Mexico, and then, you know,” you've voice thickened, and you couldn't get the words out. 

“And then these last 100 days they've just been…difficult.” 

“100…difficult,” he echoed, almost breathless as he listened to you. 

“It's like I can't do it without you. I never had to try to do it without you, and now I get what people say when they say this job is shitty, because it is when your best friend isn't there.” 

You gave him a weak smile and wiped away your tears, trying to climb from his lap. But his firm arms held you still, and you didn't really want out anyways. 

“When I get home, everything is different, and I can't make myself do anything. If you weren't here, I wouldn't have done that laundry. I'd let it sit and avoid it for weeks. Do you understand?” 

“Y/N, lots of people feel depressed sometimes-” 

“It's not - Spencer, I don't think this is something I can medicate my way out of. I don't know what to do because I can't do my job without you, and I can't be happy doing my job, and if I leave my job I'll be without you and then-” 

Your voice cracked again. 

“And then I still won't be happy.” The words were barely a whisper, but they were a plea, too. You weren't sure what for. 

“You can't be happy without me?” He asked, but it was more a statement than anything else. Spencer felt horrible in that moment as his chest rattled, gleeful that he was your happiness. 

“I love you,” he said, outloud finally after eight years. 

“I love you, too, Spencer, but-” 

“No, Y/N. Listen to me. I. Love. You.” The thumping of his heart set the tempo for the choir that was his senses to begin singing, as he finally leaned forward and kissed you.

“I love you, and I don't care if you're working at the BAU or if you're avoiding laundry at home. I, god, you're amazing and wonderful, and you're a human being, and you've our yourself under so much pressure for the last decade to keep me alive, to keep all of us alive really and….” 

He took another breath, leaning into kiss you one more time. 

“And you deserve a break.” 

“W-When we take breaks, people die.” 

“Did anyone die when I was teaching for the last three months? When JJ went on maternity leave?” 

You shook your head, but your brain was still a mess. 

“You all had reasons, I-” 

“You have reasons, too. Y/N…. Y/N, let me be your reason.” 

For a moment or two, Spencer truly thought you were going to say no. He thought you would get up and walk away, or better yet, ask him to leave and never come back. 

So when you pressed your lips to his, he was sure that this was a dream. 

But to you, it was salvation. Spencer Reid's love was the lifeline you'd been thrown, and it was buoyant enough to make you start floating. 

His hands kneaded the flesh at your hips as he pulled you closer still to him, his tongue slipping into your mouth to explore every part of you there. 

“Y/N… love…you,” he mumbled with each spare breath he caught, and you only detangled your lips to hear him say it again as he pressed similarly heated kisses against every inch of your exposed skin. 

When Spencer's mind lost its ability to create original speech, he leant back on a lifetime of information, of learning love through books and people and marathons with you. 

“I know that all I know right now is that I love you. And I know that I always will,” he whispered, lifting you and carrying you back to the bed you'd only crawled from an hour hence. 

A hand slid under your shirt, and slowly pushed it over your head, letting it slowly drop to the floor as he held you tenderly. 

“To me, you are perfect.”

His mouth found one nipple, and he gently kissed, then suckled at it, hands softly caressing your stomach, feeling along every ridge of you as you writhed under him. 

“Of all the FBI Units, in all the towns, in all the world, she walks into mine.” 

“Spencer,” you said, voice still thick with tears, but these ones more tender, more joyful. 

His hand eased your sweats over your ass and off, his hips settling between your legs as if he found the place he was made to lie forever. 

“The truth of it is, I’ve loved you from the first second I met you.” 

His mouth trailed lower until his tongue hit your clit, brushing against it languidly, as if it was his deepest desire to taste you and nothing else ever again.

His tongue flattened and flicked and pushed inside of you as you replayed his words again and again and again. You found yourself repeating them with him. 

“I love you,” you echoed as he pushed a finger inside of you. 

“I.. love you,” you gasped as he added another. 

“I love you,” you screamed as your back arched up off the bed, finding your pleasure in his tongue, just ad you'd found love in his words. 

“You have bewitched me body and soul, and I love….” He freed his cock from his pants, and took it in hand.

“I love…” With another kiss, he pressed the tip of it against you, asking for permission silently as you nodded your head. 

“I love you.” He pushed in slowly, but it wouldn't matter how he did it because now you knew how he felt, and you didn't want to return to a time of not knowing. 

Hooking your legs around him, Spencer dropped his forehead to yours and looked you directly in the eyes as he began moving. In and out, he thrust, mouth open in a moan of pleasure, likely mirroring your own.

The poetry, the movie lines, they were gone now, and Spencer was left with nothing but you, and love, and love for you. 

“Spencer,” you moaned out, and he felt his chest swell. Pride. His name on your tongue, his body pressed to yours, claiming you as his ad you claimed him as yours. 

He came with a shudder and you were not far behind, his undoing sending a shiver up your spine as his fingers grazed your clit again. 

You sat panting for a minute, still attached, still forehead to forehead. 

You weren't sure if it was him who giggled first or if it was you, but you were glad it was one of you. 

You spent the rest of the night, the rest of the weekend, wrapped in his warmth, dressed in his love, taking each day a step at a time as you basked in his adoration.

[envy-of-the-apple]

Earth Kills Moon

Dark!Gojo Satoru x reader

Word count: 6.3k

Part one: Sun Eats Moon

Part three: Moon Starves Sun

Synopsis: A retelling of Sun Eats Moon in Suguru's perspective

(Warnings: forced relationships, bullying, non con touching, non con kissing)

Suguru liked you. 

It wasn't even a crush. A passing interest, maybe. You were pretty. You had a nice smile. Though, he'd never directly spoken to you, he could tell that you were kind. Not in the artificial cherry most people were. Natural, like honey, never spoiling. You share the same homeroom as Satoru, and he'd always tended to be observant, unlike his friend. One thing he liked about you was how observant you were. You were constantly looking out for your friends, mere acquaintances, and everyone in your vicinity. Often, Suguru wondered if being a people-pleaser was natural or from a fear of not fitting in. 

Suguru is observant. He notices the lingering gaze Satoru gives you when you walk away, hurrying to catch up with the rest of your friends. Satoru then turns back to the carton of chocolate milk you'd left him.

"Cute," Satoru says after a minute. It's more of an afterthought than anything. He pops the carton open. Suguru hears the fabric tear. He hums in agreement. The topic switches to something else, a hot celebrity maybe? Suguru can't remember. That day had been so insignificant to him. It hadn’t mattered to him for Suguru to remember anything further.

A few days later, Suguru noticed Satoru was spending a lot more time with you. 

It was hard not to notice, actually. His friend attached himself to you like he'd die if he couldn’t. Satoru went everywhere with you now. Suguru caught him walking you from school, offering you rides in his new car, following you to the lunch hall. And if he couldn’t go to where you were, he’d drag you back to him. Watching you and Satoru was a bit like watching two magnets. North pole and South pole. So different, yet constantly finding the other. 

“Tryna’ run away from me, now?” Satoru asks, a teasing lilt in his voice as he watches you fiddle with your bag.

You laugh, continuing to fish out your lunch box. “Just grabbing lunch.” 

“Eat with us,” Satoru insists, “we found a great spot up at the rooftop.” 

You meet Suguru’s gaze just then. He’d been silently lounging on a nearby desk, observing the two of you. He gives a smile. You return it. Polite. He wonders if your mother taught you to smile like that.

“I thought students weren’t allowed up there?” You ask Satoru. 

The boy rolls his eyes. “So, who cares? It’ll be fun.” 

You pause, right then. The tiniest of hesitation. Suguru wonders if you’re noticing just how different you and Satoru were. You, the people pleaser, meek, always more than willing to bend towards authority. Satoru was rougher, more resilient, uncaring of signs and rules. The gap between the two of you is astronomical. Could you feel it as well?

Whatever you’re thinking, it’s gone in a moment. You rise, giving Satoru another laugh. To Suguru, it sounds pretty. 

“Well, have fun for me. Besides, I can’t ditch my friends. They’re waiting for me.” 

With that, you give both him and Satoru a tiny wave, before disappearing out of the classroom. Suguru waves back. Satoru doesn’t. Instead, he keeps his eyes on your back until he can’t see you anymore. 

“Got ditched again, hm?” Suguru teases. Satoru only groans, tossing his head back as he leans dangerously on the chair.

“Always leavin’ me for ‘em, too,” he complains, “so fuckin’ annoyin’.”

Suguru can only smile, getting up to follow his friend out the door. He can barely count how many times he’d seen this before, each with a different person. It starts the same. Satoru will cling onto you for a couple more days, and then ask you out. When you say yes, he’d date you for a few weeks before eventually getting bored and dumping you. 

It’s a cruel cycle, something that’s just an inevitability with Gojo Satoru. The boy can’t stay in one place, he’s constantly moving around, never one to stop. For Satoru, Suguru was the most permanent thing in his life. Which made sense, they were pretty similar in terms of ideals. 

A cruel cycle, and Suguru feels a tiny bit of sympathy for you. You were sweet, unlike the type Satoru typically went for. Honey. Natural. Truthfully, Suguru was a little disappointed as well. The type of disappointment he’d feel when someone took the last crab stick before he could. A fleeting feeling, one that ultimately wouldn’t matter. 

◉

From the day they first met, Suguru knew one thing: Gojo Satoru has never been told no before. 

It made sense. He was the only child to one of the most powerful families in the country. Spoiled from day one, some could say. Satoru grew up knowing nothing but wealth and prosperity. They met when they were both still in elementary school, still with high-pitched voices and large eyes. Suguru’s family was fairly affluent as well. Now that Suguru thinks back, perhaps their meeting had been orchestrated by meddling parents in order to form more connected. It didn’t matter, either way. It had benefitted all three parties, after all.

Yes, Suguru knew from the moment Satoru pointed at him and declared him his ‘best friend’, that Satoru had never been told no before. 

Satoru was the Sun. The universe revolved around him, catered to him. Suguru supposed he wasn't much better considering he too spoiled his best friend in that sense. They were different. They'd been born different, coming from families who cherish them with wealth and power. Suguru supposes it was natural for them to be so intertwined. Like calls for like. 

Suguru isn’t aware of the exact details, but he knows you rejected Satoru. 

The boy doesn’t have to tell him. His friend is uncharacteristically quiet during that weekend. He has no interest in the arcade, or the next basketball tournament his team is going to compete in. Satoru just sits on top of Suguru’s bed, casually sucking on a carton of chocolate milk. Suguru glanced down at the abandoned PlayStation remote. He’d lost yet another game against his dark-haired friend with no complaints. Satoru didn’t even play

You’d really done a number on him, Suguru thinks to himself. Suguru would assume it’s heartbreak, but he knows his friend better than that. Something burns in his chest, but he’s pushing it away before he can figure out why. Nipping it in the bud. It was a cruel thought. A bad one. He should ignore it.

Well, it’s done. It doesn’t matter anyway. Satoru would eventually get over it. He’s not known to sulk. 

He’s not there to see what Satoru tells them, but he’s there to see the effects. 

It starts out small. Or perhaps just not noticeable enough. Gojo Satoru has always attracted attention, whether it was satisfactory or not. Lackeys, Satoru often calls them because they're too far beneath him to even be called equals.

Suguru notices their sudden interest in you before even you can. A harsh word here and there. Giggling at the word 'easy'. You peacefully trek on, not noticing the abuse until it turns physical. That starts at the end of Monday. 

By Tuesday, they're already shoving you down each chance they get. You get surprised when it happens the first time, then the second, then the third. You have soft skin, plushy, Suguru could tell. He wondered if it was getting marked now. He wonders if you go home, peeling of your uniform, staring at the bruises of hands on your skin because you’re so fragile.

(They never go too far, not enough to completely injure. Suguru knows this because one time, one of the idiots had pushed you too hard. You’d stumbled, nearly hitting the back of your head with a metal locker. Satoru had seen. Suguru doesn’t know what Satoru did, but that particular one was gone the next time and the rest got the memo to scare, not injure.)

Satoru never takes part in this, but he keeps an eye on you sometimes. Tuesday evening comes and they both silently watch you through a window. You move through an empty hall, before they arrive again, slapping your binders out of your hands, chortling with each other. They're too far away to hear, but Suguru could bet it would sound like nails scraping against a chalkboard. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Suguru watches his best friend. Satoru looks impassive, face blank as he stares down at your figure. Akin to a child watching ants burning through a magnifying glass, instilled with that innate desire to see them explode into ash. 

When the lackeys leave, you bend down on the floor, collecting your stuff. Your hair covers your eyes, so he can't see your expression, but he can see your shoulders tremble. Were you-

A corral of people run to you. They lean down, picking up the stuff you had missed. You look up, your eyes are shiny but you're laughing when they say something. You wipe at your eyes, standing up as they lead you out of the hallway. Suguru had seen them hanging out with you before. They all seemed like they supported each other, supported you. 

Suguru feels his frown deepen, conflicted. He doesn’t like it.

"It's not nice to pick on the weak, Satoru," he quietly says. 

Satoru's eyes trail your figure out the door. He gives a small hum.

By Wednesday, your friends disappear from your side. 

The abuse is getting worse, noticeable to the point where the rest of the student body is heavily avoiding you. Teachers won't raise a finger at what's happening. As much as they like to preach about their 'zero tolerance for bullying', Suguru knows they'll willingly turn a blind eye when matters involve Gojo Satoru. No teacher wants to deal with the wrath the Gojo family is more than willing to unlease for the sake of their heir.

Yet, you aren't getting it. You don't break, don't bend. He can feel the humiliation roll off of you in waves, yet you don't react. Which was strange because he knew your archetype. A people-pleaser, constantly bending over backward for other's sake. You want nothing more than to become part of the crowd again, completely invisible. You’re community-oriented. You thrive off of companionship. This ostracization must be killing you. Suguru doesn't get it until he spots your face, just once, narrowed eyes, anger. 

Pride. He'd forgotten other people had that too. Though, Suguru admires it, a part of him knows it shouldn’t last.

Suguru thinks he does it because he pities you. You're a little naive. Suguru has your thought process figured out. You think if you take the torment long enough, Satoru would eventually just forget about you all together. Once he's done with you, you'd focus on picking up the pieces that used to be your life. It's not a bad plan, if you weren't dealing with Gojo Satoru. 

The boy is a hurricane. Fast, unrelenting, unforgiving. Satoru won't stop. He won't stop until you're ruined and broken. Turned into a mere asteroid of what you once were. 

So, Suguru decides to give you a push in the right direction. 

The students have already created a wide circle for you by the time he steps in, bending down, picking up the stuff you had dropped. You're silent until he hands you his pieces. He doesn't bother responding to your timid thanks. 

"Give in," he tells you, watching the way your eyes widen as you look up at him.

You're weak. Physically, emotionally. He could easily pick you up with one hand, crush your body with his fist. Satoru could eviscerate your body from existence. You don't stand a chance with him. With either of them. 

His advice to you is good. Reasonable. And yet, he sees the face you make, the way you slowly get up. You won’t listen. That same burning feeling in his chest starts. It's gotten more painful. 

You don't listen to him until you lose nearly everything. Just as he warned you. Friday comes. You become Satoru's. And it's a little too late for everything. 

◉

Suguru doesn't think you ever learn that Satoru loves messing with you. 

Or, perhaps you do, but you can't help it. You're too honest, too open. He often wonders if that's how you were raised. To be honest, open, vulnerable. Your parents must have filled your thoughts with delusions, coddling you with words of cheap motivation. The world is your oyster. You just had to reach out and take it.

Maybe now you're finally realizing, sitting on Satoru's lap, that all men aren't created equal. 

Clearly, you weren't happy about it. Yet, you aren't complaining, sitting there pliantly legs firmly crossed, hands curled into tiny fists, staring rigidly on the floor. The first few times Satoru had done this in public, you were always biting your lip, tears threatening to fall. Now, Suguru thinks you just dissociate, coming back when Satoru laughs at something, jostling you in his arms. 

It's a bit like watching a helpless bird on the ground, twitching and spasming after it had just collided with a glass window. Pitiful, but there was nothing that could be done. It's the inevitability of it all that makes him pity you more than anything else, really.

Every so often, your eyes would catch his. It's a quick glance, as though you were wondering if he was watching. He can barely catch it, but Suguru is observant. Much like you. It's meaningless, and your gaze returns to the floor. Your fists tighten. 

Granting you mercy, Suguru stops looking at you during those times. 

He's not sure how Satoru sees you. Perhaps, you're akin to a dog for him. Though, that might not be very good for you. Satoru hadn't been very good with animals when he was younger. Satoru had always been rough with any pets he came into contact with, pushing and tugging. Suguru doubted that had changed. 

Satoru's is your official title. It isn't a relationship. It's an ownership. Unequal from the start. The one who holds the leash in the end, will always be Satoru. 

It took a while for you to fully learn that. 

Suguru didn't mean to catch the two of you. Looking back, it was probably because Satoru couldn't care less if someone was watching. Maybe Satoru was being obvious on purpose. It was a little while after school had officially ended. Suguru knew your usual routine would place you right at the library, scrolling through books. Satoru would most likely be there too, pestering you about this and that. It's the scene Suguru prepares himself to walk into.

Instead, you're wedged in between the white-haired boy and the wall, there's no space for you to do anything but sink. You're already crying (when was the last time you smiled?), trying to pull away but Satoru isn't letting you. He's gripping you by the chin, forcing eye contact. His sunglasses are off, tucked on his collar. 

Suguru's close enough to hear. You're begging. Apology after apology. It's barely a whisper, but they're spilling out of you like a prayer. He can't discern the context, but he knows enough. 

You made Satoru angry. 

He's still smiling, but it isn't sincere. Almost bordering on mania as he tightens his grip on you, forcing you further into the wall. Suguru doesn't think Satoru has ever hit you before, but now he's wondering if quick violence was preferable to this. 

"Don't be like that," Satoru chides as another squeak leaves your lips, "Where was that smile you were givin' him, hm? C'mon, pretty girl. You were wearin' it just a second ago." 

"It-it wasn't like that, I swear," you continue to plead, still not realizing that it's too late, "he was giving me his notes. Please-please Satoru-" 

"Wrong answer," he cuts you off, you flinch at his harshness but Suguru decides Satoru's being nice to you. He's been known to do worse, "we've been over this before, haven't we? Or did your stupid brain forget?" 

You're choking down another hiccup. It takes a minute for you to calm down enough to speak clearly. Ever impatient, Satoru's hand digs into your shoulder. 

"I'm sorry, Satoru," you say, "it won't happen again." 

He tilts his head, waiting. You wilt under his gaze. 

"I'm sorry...’Toru." 

Satoru gives a satisfied hum, pulling back and Suguru can practically see your lungs sag with relief. His mania is gone, replaced by something much more lighthearted and carefree. Suguru'd seen it before, but it was certainly something watching Satoru go from one high to the next. Even to Suguru, it's terrifying to witness. 

Suguru decides to make himself known right then. He comes out of the shadows, acting as though he'd just arrived. His friend lazily gives him a wave, curling an arm around your waist. You try to scrub away your tears with your forearms, unaware of how much Suguru had seen. Another mercy Suguru grants you. He doesn't acknowledge it. 

The three of you sit in the library for half an hour until you're done pretending that you're studying. When Satoru walks you home, Suguru follows. He notes that you barely hesitate to give Satoru a chaste kiss on the lips, and he wonders how often his friend has demanded one from you for you to be so casual about it. 

He thinks he gets it when he and Satoru are walking on the street without you. To Satoru, you aren't a dog. You aren't a pet, something that he keeps to see bark.

No, you are just Satoru's. 

◉

Towards the end of the year, Suguru realizes that Satoru loves you. 

He's nicer to you, now. Suguru doesn't think you've realized how softer Satoru's gotten, but the change is there. He spots less marks on you now. The biggest evidence he has is that stolen moment of you and Satoru. You'd accidentally fallen asleep during lunch break, dozing off on your desk. Satoru was right next to you, gently pushing your hair out of your face. Satoru loves you. 

You've changed too. Adapted, he should say. You cry less, now. Each time he sees you, you look more and more put together. As though, you're done mourning. The final stage of grief. Acceptance.

Despite how much nicer Satoru is to you, he's still just as clingy. Suguru notices that even now, none of your former friends speak to you. No one at school does. It's an unspoken rule to not mess with Satoru's things. 

Suguru can still remember the last guy who hadn't gotten the memo. A new student. Freshly transferred. Suguru had heard the conversation. The guy was hardly interested in you. It was nothing more than small talk. The pat on your shoulder had been thoughtless at least, friendly at most. 

Satoru beat him until the boy was bloody and had a broken nose. A week later, he'd transferred again. 

You're off limits. To everyone but Suguru. 

The Earth is the only planet capable of sustaining life within this cold solar system. It's close enough to the sun to feel the warmth, yet far enough so it doesn't burn. It's strong, too. A powerful magnetic forcefield, capable of shutting down the sun's cosmic radiation. Thus, the Earth spins happily around the Sun, surrounded by a sea of dead planets. 

So, sometimes when Satoru can't walk you home. Suguru does. 

It was just the beginning of spring. The school year was starting to end. The school itself was starting to slow down. Teachers were getting less and less strict, less work was given out. It didn't matter. Colleges had already been picked. They were all close to the end. 

You don't say much when the two of you are alone. Suguru understands. It's hard to say much of anything when you're crushed by the weight of Gojo Satoru. But Suguru could have sworn he'd seen a flicker of relief when he came to pick you up and not his friend. You're clearly happier when it's him. Suguru decides he likes how that feels. It's a quick feeling of superiority. Something that quickly disappears when your eyes flick down. 

He knows where your house is, but he lets you take the lead anyway. Suguru figures it's the least he can do, give you that sense of control when nothing you do ever really does anymore. 

You and him have forged a shaky companionship. He's not sure what he is to you entirely, but you seem reliant on him in some way. it’s his fault, he thinks. He wonders if it has to do with the contraception he'd given you. He can still remember the trembling hands as you took it from him, curling the packet into your grip. That day he went home and his fingers felt strangely itchy. 

Does the Earth ever wonder if it can turn the Sun?

When he asks you a question, you answer. At least you aren't mute, though Suguru doesn't think he'd blame you if you ignored him. Your voice is stilted, with enough words to answer the question, but still not enough to fully sate him. 

And then, you break. 

Just a bit. 

A tiny piece of you shatters, and you show yourself to him. 

He'd been talking about something insignificant, college, his plans. Just ramblings. Somehow, Satoru comes into the conversation and he's talking about the area of his friend's college campus, how Satoru mentioned that he's looking for apartments for the two of you to stay in. And then, you're uncharacteristically scoffing. 

"Right," you say, head faced down on the sidewalk as you kick a rock, "because I'm following him there." 

Suguru can't help but place the sarcasm in your voice. The bitterness. He's heard it before, but it's a fascinating thing hearing it come from you. And then Suguru realizes that you accidentally gave something away. 

You were leaving. 

Somehow, it never crossed Suguru's mind that you were still rebelling, even now. And yet, he can't shake off the heat in your voice, your words. 

You seem to realize this too, freezing. 

He lets you falter for a few more moments before giving you a reprieve. 

"Satoru's idealistic like that," he let out. 

Your shoulders lower, and for the sake of both you and him, he doesn't press any further. 

He doesn't let himself let it go, even when he drops you home, arriving to his own house. Always cold. The mansion's lights are always off. No one's ever home. And Satoru's out of town. 

It's better this way, Suguru thinks as he lies in bed, staring up at the ceiling. No distractions, he can think better, as he replays your words over and over again. You were leaving. You were leaving. You were leaving Satoru. 

The night passes. When Satoru comes back to town, he's joyful as always, an arm slung around your shoulders. Suguru watches the way he coos at you, saying how much he missed you. You take his affections the way you always do, with a strained smile and wavering eyes. 

You glance at Suguru. Suguru stares right back. 

For a moment, Suguru thinks he understands why people are so enthralled with solar eclipses. The moon is seen as an underdog in most instances. It must be thrilling when a weak satellite can cover the sun's rays. Even for just a little bit. 

Suguru doesn't tell Satoru. He pushes the burning in his chest, ignoring the itchiness in his fingers. Things are better this way, right? After all, the two of you come from completely different worlds. It's nonsensical to think otherwise. 

Two weeks before graduation, you disappear without a trace. 

And Satoru breaks. 

It's a slow dissent. It comes in stages. The boy is angry at first, searching for you at school, when he can't find you there he loses his facade and demands where you are from your parents. They can't give him a clear answer because you're an adult now and you barely told them a thing before moving out. Suguru doesn’t think they knew what Satoru was to you. He doesn’t think they ever will.

The heat fades day by day, Week by week. Satoru starts to deflate the longer you aren't in his hold, his to mangle, and grab, and keep. He stops taking care of himself. His skin became paler, cracked lips, hollow cheeks. His eyes turn into this grayish blue that Suguru can't bring himself to look at for too long. He loses weight day by day. 

Suguru had never seen him react this way before. Satoru was always shining. He was the sun. Now, the center of the solar system was dying. He can feel himself dying with it. 

Satoru hadn't just loved you. Satoru had been obsessed with you. He breathed you in, inhaled your essence like oxygen. You'd been a part of him; a necessity. And then, you tore yourself away, leaving him bleeding on the concrete.

Guilt. Suguru feels it in his stomach, rising to his throat, threatening to stain his clothes. It's too late to say anything now, so he keeps it huddled deep inside of him. Suguru hopes it'll never come out. He helps the best he can, being there for his friend, his best friend. 

It takes a month for Satoru to start eating properly again. A few months later he starts regaining his usual physique. The gray in his eyes stays for a bit longer than Suguru likes. Suguru supposes he should take what he can get.

A year passes like that. The evidence of what you left behind fades, like bruises disappearing on skin. Suguru and Satoru become college students. Then, they graduate.

When Satoru joins the business, Suguru, his right-hand man, his second, his best friend, is right next to him. They’ve always worked well together, but that doesn’t change as they shift into adulthood. Despite how different Suguru and Satoru were, Suguru liked to think that their personalities were stagnant; unchanging even to the times.

What Satoru feels about you remains stagnant as well.

Suguru doesn’t think about you often, these days. Barely a few times a year, when he feels nostalgic enough to get out his old high school yearbook. He’d page through, spot your smiling portrait face. He’d find himself staring at you far longer than he liked too.

At first, Suguru thought Satoru was the same. Much like how one thinks about a lost toy they cherished when they were younger. The resentment would fade with time. Satoru didn’t speak about you for years.

Suguru hadn’t expected the girls, however.

He doesn’t notice the first one. He sees her, but he doesn’t internalize it. She’s hurriedly putting on her clothes after a clearly exciting night, so Suguru respectfully averts his gaze. He’s more focused on his exasperation at how Satoru had missed yet another meeting with the board. They would be less than pleased if they discovered Satoru didn’t show up because he was hungover.

The second time it happens, Suguru has a passing thought of how familiar the girl looked, despite being sure he’d never seen her in his life.

The third time it happens, Suguru realizes all the recent girls Satoru’s been bringing strike an uncanny resemblance towards you.

It’s not anything too obvious, but all of them would look a bit like you. Most would have your skin tone, your hair. One had your eyes, not the color, rather the shape of it. Satoru had kept her around the longest.

Suguru doesn’t say anything about it. Part of him wonders if Satoru is even doing it on purpose.

Suguru loves Satoru like he would his own brother, but his recent hobby was starting to get on his nerves a bit.

“So much work,” the man complains, “Why can’t we just send all this off to Ijichi?”

“He has his own work to complete,” Suguru reprimands, “the sooner you stop complaining, the sooner we can finish.”

Satoru rolls his eyes but moves to another page of meaningless paperwork; Something that would be scanned into their system and then tucked away into a random file cabinet. They currently sat in Satoru’s grand kitchen, lounging on the barstools after Suguru had pounded Satoru’s door in. Satoru had let him in with an irritated look, complaining that it was the weekend and he had ‘stuff’ to do.

“He’s my assistant,” Satoru retorts, “my work is his work.”

“The reason why we’re in this mess in the first place is because you kept pawning off your job to the poor man in the first place. You’ve given him wrinkles from just the stress of being in your vicinity.”

“That’s insulting,” Satoru counters, “my presence is nothing but calming.”

“You do the exact opposite, actually. A black hole that sucks the soul out of everyone who hangs around you.”

“You hang around me all the time and you don’t have wrinkles.”

Suguru smiles. “It’s because I don’t respect you enough to listen to anything you’re saying.”

Satoru’s about to respond, when another voice interrupts him. Alluring, feminine.

“Satoru,” she coos, “When are you getting back here?”

From his seat, Suguru has a clear view of Satoru’s bedroom. Only her head is peeked out, and Suguru notes her bare shoulders. Your eyes, and your lips this time. She’s tilting her head, mouth curved in a coy smile.

Of course. Suguru can only roll his eyes. There’s that same burning feeling in his chest. During the years, it hasn’t really gotten any better.

“Coming, coming,” Satoru calls back, “just a minute, babe.”

“Stuff to do, hm?” Suguru drawls with amusement. Satoru flips him off.

"Worry 'bout yourself," Satoru says, "when's the last time you got any, huh? Honestly, when's the last time you've taken a break? A vacation?"

"I can't," Suguru replies, "I'm always stuck babysitting you."

“I’ve been waiting for half an hour, ‘Toru." The woman interrupts. "Can’t you just do it later?”

Suguru hadn’t even noticed it. He brushed it off, barely hearing their conversation as he shuffled around the papers.

Satoru had.

He hums. Straightening his back.

“Yeah, I’ve changed my mind. You should head on home.”

At first, he thought Satoru was talking to him. Then, he hears the woman’s annoyed huff.

“Hold on, you’re kicking me out?” She asks.

“Yeah, sorry,” Satoru says, not sounding very apologetic, “I got a lotta’ stuff to do and you’re not gonna wanna stick around.”

His tone is light, but Suguru can’t help but place a sense of annoyance in them. The anger. His posture is stiff, almost like he’s primed for a fight.

‘Toru. She called him ‘Toru.

You used to call him ‘Toru.

“Seriously, I-”

“I hate repeating myself: Get the fuck out.”

There’s silence, and then Suguru can hear her mutter to herself as she shuffles inside the room. She comes out minutes later, not quite dressed, but presentable. She shoots Satoru a glare, to which he only waves off. The door shuts with a noticable thud.

“Back to work,” Satoru says, “do you feel hot? The AC has been acting up, lately.”

He carries on like that, back to normal, as though he wasn’t about to snap just a few minutes ago. Suguru follows suit, not aknowledging the outburst, much like he doesn’t aknowledge most things regarding you.

Later, Suguru laughs about the hypocrisy of it all. Satoru brings home physical reminders of you, but he refuses the remnants of you. The most intimate parts, he’d kept hidden away from his life, yet he still wishes to touch, to feel. He wonders how you’d feel if you knew that Gojo Satoru is wrapped around your finger, even now.

◉

Satoru had done something yet again. It's always something with Gojo Satoru. Suguru should have left him to deal with the legal team himself, but here he was, trailing beside the firm’s directors as the man droned on and on how well Mr.Gojo would be well taken care of how here our clients are family. He forces himself to push away that feeling in his chest, scorching his throat. He was getting sick of the constant blabbering. He’d glanced away for just a second.

And then he saw you.

You, not some remnant, not some picture, not someone similar. You. He knew it was you. A little older, a little taller. You’d switched the high school uniform for a blouse and a pencil skirt. Suguru stares. He’s tempted to say your name, seek you out, as though you’re old friends-

He reels himself back in.

You disappear through a frosted glass door, completely unaware of his gawking. You hadn’t seen him. Good. The firm’s director didn’t notice his pause, carrying on as though nothing happened. Suguru smiles and laughs at the horrible ice breakers, but he also steals a glance at the name of the door you went through.

Later, Suguru looks up Higuruma Hiromi. A well-established lawyer. Worked at the firm for nearly a decade.

You are his sole paralegal.

Law. He had never considered it for you. Now, he thinks it’s a little fitting. He can’t help it. He looks you up. You have no social media, most likely from a remnant fear, but he finds where you went to college, what your area of study was, where else you’d worked, your life. Questions he’d had for nearly a decade he finally has an answer.

Honestly, Suguru was a little mad it was all so easy.

He can’t see the entire scope of your life, but he knows you were happy after high school, away from Satoru. You seemed happy when he caught that glimpse of you. There was a slight smile on your face, you never did that with Satoru around.

Satoru’s a little pathetic, a thought he has to concede to. He’s still hung over you, while you clearly hadn’t thought of him in years.

Suguru stares at your picture a little more.

The burning feeling comes back again. Hotter, melting.

Oh.

Suguru is disgusted by you.

You, that bitch loitering in Satoru’s bedroom, that greedy firm director. Disgust, that sick feeling crawling down his stomach, seeping into his bones. He’s disgusted by the weak.

He’s even more disgusted when they think they can defeat the strong. Decieve them.

You always thought you were better than Satoru, better than Suguru, even from the beginning. Even when you rejected him. Even when Satoru’s goons were torturing you, you still thought you could get out of it somehow. Even when Satoru had his hand on your shoulder, claws sinking into your flesh, you were still looking for a way out. It was like watching a rat trapped in a cage, pathetically sniffing around for an exit.

The weak could never escape the whims of the strong. It was a truth of the world, something he’d always known and yet it’d take a decade for him to put the words together. The weak could never make a fool of the strong.

You are weak. A mere satellite floating along, before getting trapped in the Earth’s gravitational force. Suguru could crush you with one fist. Satoru could evisirate you to atoms.

Does the Earth ever wonder if it can turn the Sun?

“I’ve put together a legal team that will represent you.”

Suguru places the neat stack of documents onto Satoru’s desk. The white-haired man barely gives them a glance. Suguru knows Satoru won’t ever look at them, even when your name is hidden somewhere within the sheets, along with Higuruma’s. Suguru wonders how long it’d take for Satoru to figure it out. It’s a shame he won’t be there to see it unfold in real-time, but perhaps, once Satoru puts the pieces together, he’ll thank him.

Here, in the present, Satoru types away at his computer, barely paying attention to Suguru’s words.

“Oh, great,” Satoru says off handedly, “thanks, man.”

Suguru sighs.

“Uh, I love you?” Satoru tries again.

“Never repeat those words to me ever again,” Suguru responds, “I wish you’d be a bit more interested in this, considering it’s your fault the company is in this mess in the first place.”

Satoru gives a hushed hum of agreement. Suguru smiles.

“In other news: I won’t be here next week.”

That catches his best friend’s attention. Satoru gapes at him.

“You’re quitting?”

“No, idiot. I’m taking your advice. I’m taking a few weeks off. I already put it in the calendar that you never check so why did I even bother.”

“A vacation? You never take vacations, even when I beg you to,” Satoru squints at him, “What’s the occasion?”

Eventually, Satoru will figure it out. For now, Suguru wants to enjoy this.

“I worked hard this year. I should reward myself, shouldn’t I?” He reasons, “oh, and I have a surprise for you showing up in a week or so. Let me know what you think of it.”

“A gift? For me?” Satoru beams. “You really do love me.”

“Don’t push it.”

The Earth is the only planet capable of sustaining life within this cold solar system. It's close enough to the sun to feel the warmth, yet far enough so it doesn't burn. It's strong, too. A powerful magnetic forcefield, capable of shutting down the sun's cosmic radiation. Thus, the Earth spins happily around the Sun, surrounded by a sea of dead planets. 

If Satoru was the Sun, then Suguru supposed he would be the Earth. Close enough to receive the star's radiance, but with a strong enough magnetitic field to shield from solar winds. 

If Suguru was the Earth, then Suguru supposed you would be the Moon. A tiny cratered satellite he tugs along with him, forever in sight of the burning sun. 

[chrissv4mp]

make a movie with you that we'd have to hide , CHRIS S.

summary: you can't help but be obsessed with everything about your boyfriend, and one night, you ask him if you two could try something... different.

pairing: chris stuniolo × fem!reader

warnings: SUPER subby!chris, sorta shy!chris, pet names (ma, baby, love, good boy, baby boy, pretty boy, etc.), handjobs, p in v, unprotected sex, recording, begging, overstimulation, degradation, choking if you squint, name-calling (slut, etc.), just pure filth🤷‍♀️

a/n: chris......... these photo dumps have me screaming, i think i'm transitioning to a chris girl😖

"clothes on the counter for you, try 'em on. if i'm allowed, i'll help you take 'em off..." - LUNCH , billie e.

the door shut softly, and the next thing you heard were chris's footsteps coming down the hall.

his lips curved into a smile the second he caught sight of you, stretching his arms put before falling into your embrace on the couch.

"hi, baby," you muttered, pressing a soft kiss to his neck.

chris exhaled, kissing your cheek, "hi,"

the brunette boy pulled away, staring deep into your eyes before smiling softly, "hi, ma."

he kissed your cheek before getting up, hanging his hoodie up behind the front door before going into the kitchen.

you sighed, moving the blanket off of you before following your boyfriend.

staring wasn't unusual between you two. he always looked so good, and chris had always said you looked gorgeous every second of the day.

but right now, he looked better than ever. his grey t-shirt was a bit small for him, so whenever he moved his arms it would ride up, exposing his v-line and some of his lower abdomen.

his jeans were bigger around his waist, causing them to fall a little lower. you weren't complaining, cause this was the best sight you've seen.

"y/n, baby, are you there?" you didn't even notice your boyfriends repeating your name until he snapped his fingers.

your eyes went back up to his in an instant, blood rushing to your cheeks at the fact that he might've seen you staring.

but chris wouldn't care, he knew what he was doing when he got ready this morning.

"sorry. i'm here, just zoned out." you laughed, walking closer to him and pulling him into a hug.

the boy chuckled, rubbing your back and giving your head a quick kiss before moving toward the fridge.

his eyes moved around the food inside before he spoke again, "should i cook? there's still that steak we bought on wednesday,"

he looked back at you, and you stared at his blue eyes just a little longer than usual before giving him a reply, "sure,"

"i mean, who's turning down professional chef, christopher sturniolo?" you joked, leaning against the kitchen counter.

chris giggled, looking back at the fridge before opening the freezer and grabbing out the packaging the steak was in.

"not even nick and matt can resist." chris smiled, grabbing the scissors to cut open the plastic.

you watched silently as chris carefully cut the packaging, eyes fixated on his hands and fingers that so delicately moved.

chris couldn't bear the silence, even if it was comfortable, "so, nick, matt, and i tried gummy food vs. regular food. shit was disgusting,"

he laughed, adding onto his topic, "also nick broke a glass, and almost the camera with a gummy donut."

you smirked, chuckling. your mind went blank for a few seconds before an idea popped into your mind.

chris was always vlogging with his brothers, and he loved to be the center of attention of everything they did.

if he liked the audience so much, then why not create a movie? a movie that was just for you and chris to see, make a movie that you two would have to hide.

"nick? seriously, out of the three of you, i would've never guessed him," you replied, the idea still lingering in your mind.

how would you even bring it up? it would be awkward, and chris might even think it's weird.

but he always told you to come to him whenever, so why were you so scared now?

"that was amazing, chris," you complimented, placing your hand on his thigh under the table.

he smiled, blushing slightly as he looked down, "thanks."

the brunette boy stood up, grabbing both of your plates and taking them to the sink. before he turned the water on, you grabbed his wrist.

"hey, i got it, go upstairs and take a shower. you've already done enough, 'kay?" you said just above a whisper, running your thumb over his palm.

he smiled softly, kissing your forehead before placing the dishes down in the sink, "you're the best. i love you, ma."

"love you, too, chris." you smiled, taking over his place at the sink as you listened to him walk up towards the stairs.

before he reached them, you called out, "i left you some clothes on the bathroom counter, too!"

he thanked you before continuing his way up to the bathroom.

rinsing off the plates and forks, you placed them on the drying rack before opening the dishwasher.

you grabbed the clean dishes from the dishwasher, putting them away in the cabinets before grabbing the dirty ones and placing them in.

as you finished, you decided to pass the time by going on your phone, lying back down on the couch before getting lost in the tiktoks on your for you page.

once you got bored, you went to instagram, going to the triplets' account and looking over their new friday photo dump.

chris was on the fourth slide alongside nick, and their friend, nate. his shirt was riding up his stomach and his boxers were showing just the slightest.

he smiled innocently, holding out the peace sign as his arm hung around nate's shoulder.

you crossed your legs, biting your lip as your eyes went over the picture again. he looked so good in it, but he also looked like he was so innocent.

fuck, you just wanted to ruin him for anyone else. you wanted to let everyone know that chris was yours.

if he allowed you tonight, you'd help him take off his clothes.

you remember picking out his red plaid pajama pants and a black wife-beater. he always looked good in that.

you decided to walk upstairs to your bedroom, it was too quiet downstairs and a bit too dark for your liking.

as you walked past the bathroom, you heard heavy breathing even over the sounds of water hitting the shower floor.

stopping right in front of the bathroom, you put your ear against the door. you gasped quietly as you heard chris moan. it was kind of high-pitched, and right after, he whimpered your name.

"fuck," you groaned quietly, deciding to just continue your walk to the bedroom.

something to tease him about later. so impatient, he couldn't even wait a few minutes longer to get off.

chris crawled onto the mattress, the edge of the bed dipping as he made his way over to you at the headboard.

his hair was still damp, water dripping off the ends every other minute.

"i missed you all day," he whispered, lying on your chest as he nestled his head into the crook of your neck.

your hands threaded into his hair, massaging his scalp as he lay comfortably.

"i missed you, too." you muttered, kissing his head.

his hands moved up your body, sneaking under the fabric of your shirt and continuing their way to your chest.

you sighed, feeling him toy with the fabric of your bra.

"missed all of you.." he mumbled, kissing your neck and occasionally nipping at it.

his touches weren't making the heat between your thighs any better. if anything, they just made you wetter.

you pulled on his hair softly, your grip tightening with every new mark he left on the soft skin of your neck.

"chris," you gasped, hands going down to his waist as you gripped it softly.

he whimpered at your motions, bucking his hips against yours and eliciting a groan from your throat.

a smirk came to your lips as you felt his dick bulging from underneath his pants and boxers, and the moment he stopped sucking your neck, you flipped him over on his back.

chris gasped silently, lips parted as he stared up at you with eyes full of lust.

"didn't you just get off, love?" you asked in a whisper, caressing his cheek and running your thumb over his bottom lip.

his face went red, turning his head to the side to try and hide.

you quickly grabbed his chin, turning his head back so that he could look straight at you.

"don't be so rude," you smiled, "can't you just answer my question? please?"

he sighed, biting his lip as he looked anywhere but your eyes. he hesitated before speaking, "yea- yes, mhm. i did, ma."

your hand went lower, traveling down his jawline and stopping at his neck. you wrapped your fingers around him, putting the slightest amount of pressure down.

"yeah? do you think you're better at getting yourself off than i am?" you teased, watching as his face contorted into a look of worry.

he shook his head frantically, and you applied more pressure to his neck for him to stop.

releasing your hand just a bit, you began again, "then why, hm?"

chris bucked his hips, his eyes rolling back as he whimpered out his answer, "was thinkin' 'bout you, fuck.. 'jus so pretty."

your frowned in fake sympathy, tilting your head a little to see his face better in the dimly-lit room.

humming, you looked around the room, eyes landing on the small digital camera chris had on his nightstand.

"hey, y'know what would make up for your mistake, baby boy?" you muttered, watching as chris's lips parted.

"what?" he whispered, finally making eye contact with you.

staying quiet, you got off him, walking around to his side of the bed and grabbing the camera.

chris sat up, eyes following your every movement as you went into your shared closet. he raised an eyebrow, clueless and confused.

when you came back to the bed, you put up his tripod, setting the camera onto it before adjusting the settings and placing it so that the camera was pointed toward the bed.

before chris could spill his thoughts, you spoke, "is this okay?"

he didn't even hesitate, nodding quickly. chris liked the idea of secret sex-tapes, ones that only you two would see.

he never told you many of his fantasies, keeping to himself every time because he would doubt you'd say yes to him.

before getting on the bed, you pressed the "record" button.

the side of the bed dipped as you crawled over to chris, pushing him to lay down again before trapping him in a heated kiss.

chris was already painfully hard, and the way you shifted around on his lap didn't make his case any better, gasps and whimpers being trapped between your two lips.

when he moaned, you slipped your tongue past his lips, exploring his mouth and running over his teeth as you groaned.

his hands went to your waist, holding you with possession as he guided your movements.

your free hand went lower, sneaking under his plaid pajamas and palming him through the soft fabric of his boxers.

chris couldn't reciprocate the kiss anymore within a few seconds, gasps, and whimpers falling from his mouth into yours.

"feels s'good," the brunette boy sighed, eyes staying shut even as you pulled away to trail kisses down his neck.

you could feel the damp spot of pre-cum on his boxers, and it made you impossibly wetter.

"so worked up," you muttered before sucking on his pulse point, hearing as chris begged in that whiny tone of his.

he wasn't even speaking coherently, blabbering out inaudible words as he gripped your waist tighter.

you left a hickey every time you went lower, leaving a trail of marks all the way to the neck of his wife-beater.

"need you, need you s'bad. please, please, ma." he groaned, eyelids fluttering open at the loss of stimulation on his clothed cock.

"be patient, i know you can." you crawled down his body, stopping right before the edge of the bed before tugging on his plaid pajama pants.

chris lifted his hips, helping you as your hands tugged the fabric down to his ankles.

before chris could beg again, you tugged his boxers down, revealing his dick that looked painfully hard.

"need you, mamas. need your hands, please, you're s'good," he whined, bucking his hips into nothing at the thought of your hands around him.

placing a hand on his hips, you stopped his movements.

he groaned out in annoyance before watching you spit in your hand and move it to his cock.

"shit," he gasped shakily, the feeling of your hand moving up and down his length making him shudder.

your thumb circled his tip, gathering the pre-cum from there and spreading it along his length.

your hand began to move faster, making chris moan even louder and buck his hips as best he could. it was all so overwhelming for him, and it was just the first round.

"god, baby, s'good to me." the brunette said in between moans, eyes rolling to the back of his head as his back arched slightly.

"better than your own hand?" you asked, and chris nodded quickly.

you laughed before crawling back up his body, capturing his lips in a kiss once again as you continued the movements with your hand.

chris was already so sensitive, making him more vocal and needy as he chased his high. he couldn't help it when you always looked so fucking gorgeous.

"g'nna cum, fuck, i'ma cum..!" the boy moaned against your lips, his thighs shaking as he continued bucking his hips.

your thumb circled his tip every time you stroked him, making those pretty whimpers fall from his red, puffy lips.

"c'mon, pretty boy, cum for me," you muttered in a seductive tone, and chris let out a low moan before doing just that.

gasps fell from his lips every second as he came down, your hand slowing down just a bit but not exactly stopping. not even when he came back.

he shook his head slowly, eyes squeezed shut from the pleasure that became more overwhelming as you pushed him past his second orgasm of the night.

"too much, baby, please," he didn't know what he was begging for, it felt so good but it also felt like it was too much.

hair stuck to his forehead from the sweat that formed there, and chris threw his head back into the pillows at your reassuring whispers.

"oh, but you wanted me so bad, pretty boy.." you kissed his jawline softly, whispering close to his ear, "you can take it."

"no, no.. can't," he whined, lips growing redder from how hard he bit them.

you rolled your eyes teasingly, the pace of your hand speeding up as you spoke, "you were acting like such a slut earlier, made it seem like you could take more than one,"

he groaned at your words, his resolve fading as he gave into you. his chest rose and fell rapidly, breathing heavy as he tried to keep eye contact with you.

"good boy, always so good," you praised, cupping his cheek with your free hand.

tears swelled in chris's eyes from the overstimulation, quiet sobs slipping from his lips from the pleasure.

it didn't long for chris to cum again, his thighs shaking as he whined loudly.

"see, you're so amazing, baby boy," you cooed, getting off the bed to strip yourself of your own clothes.

chris just stared, scooting up to sit against the headboard and sighing as he stared at every inch of your body.

"so pretty, fuck," he muttered, his dick getting hard just at the sight of your body.

he never knew someone would ever have this effect on him.

you crawled back on the bed, standing on your knees and lining chris's cock up with your entrance.

chris didn't have time to process what you were doing before you sunk down on his cock fully, making him moan out.

"one more for me?" you muttered, pecking his lips before beginning to roll your hips.

it didn't take long for chris to help you bounce on his dick, making it all the more pleasurable as you rode him.

the sounds of skin against skin filled the room along with both of your moans mixing together.

your hands tugged at his hair, making chris whine louder as he bucked his hips frantically into your pussy.

"oh my god..!" chris squirmed beneath you, nails digging into the exposes skin of your waist as he stared up at you.

your mouth hung open, gasps and moans falling out as you continued to ride him, picking up your pace.

"c'mon, baby, one more.." you muttered, eyes fixated on your boyfriends face.

chris cried out as he reached the edge, holding it as he stuttered out something, "need t'cum, please lemme cum, ma!"

you nodded, and a few seconds after chris came undone, so did you.

the brunette boy let out quiet whimpers as he came down once again, his grip on your waist loosening.

"fuck," you whispered, getting off of chris and sitting beside him.

he looked over at you, kissing your cheek with a smile, his eyes droopy from how tired he was.

"i love you," he whispered, resting his head on your bare shoulder.

"i love you, too." you replied, tilting your head to rest on his.

. . . . . . . .

tags: @starsturns234 @joemamaaa42069 @sturniolohisteric @whosthislyssbitch @sturniclo