#i had no time at all to just sit down and work so its been a little here and there all week

[chaoticwriting]

Part 2

GOTHAM'S NEW ROGUE 3

-An hour before-

Danny is hatching a new plan today. Usually, he goes after the rogues who decide to make a spectacle or show for the public. But today, he will be the one to make it.

As all the devices are put together, Danny readies himself to turn on the screen. Lightly slapping his cheeks a few times Danny brace himself for his first solo stream.

*Live On*

Trickster: Well hello everyone! Isn't today unusually too peaceful. With all the rogues in Arkham and no one for me to bother, I decided to do the most out of my time.

Danny walks to a big hulking machine under wraps by a big piece of cloth. Danny pulls the cloth revealing a big machinery that has a giant clock in the middle.

Trickster: Over here I have my latest invention. I realized that people in this city really love coffee so what I do is make a machine that will spread gasses of caffeine into the air for people to consume via breathing. I even make sure that the special caffeine concoction wouldn't affect children because if I know one thing, it is that children with caffeine are scarier than any rogue.

Danny walks to the panel with a comically large red button with the word 'start' on it right under the clock.

Trickster: Now, when I click this button, it will turn on the timer, which is 30 minutes by the way, and when it runs out, the machine will release the caffeine into the air making everyone unable to sleep for one whole day. What is the effect on the city you may ask? I honestly don't know. But it will be funny if tomorrow everyone just drops dead asleep on the ground at work tomorrow.

Danny suddenly stops talking and slams the button heavily.

Trickster: Anyway, the timer starts now. Come find me if you wanna stop it.

Danny then leaves the screen and lets the camera focus on the clock as it ticks down. Danny sits on a nearby table and continues tinkering with his new special glitter bomb.

It's been 30 minutes when suddenly a window is broken and comes in Batman in all his glory. Except what Batman sees isn't the machine or even Trickster. It is a maze full of what he deems as traps laying around. Batman carefully trudges through the maze as he skillfully disarms the traps that are laid on the ground.

It takes Batman a whole 25 minutes to finally pass the maze before he finally sees the machine without Trickster anywhere in sight. He slowly and vigilantly approaches the machine and sees a small blue button with the word 'stop' right beside the red button.

If Batman had more time, he wouldn't have done anything rash but right now he doesn't have the time nor the ability to safely disarm the machine without making any mistake.

He pushes the button and the clock stops right then and there. He stares at his surrounding vigilantly expecting an ambush. And he is not wrong. There is indeed an ambush. Just not a normal ambush.

The machine that has stopped moving suddenly begins to shake heavily and Batman immediately jumps back to distance himself from whatever the machine is about to do.

Except when he lands, an ice forms under his legs trapping him and he tries to break the ice but the ice is very hard and impossible for him to break immediately at least. He is going to request for backups when the machine turns into tiny robots that start to surround him. He tries to smash all of them but not only are they strong and durable, EMP bombs also don't work on them.

After struggling for a while, some of the robots finally climb their way onto his head. One of them hangs from his mask and releases a gas from its mouth. Batman starts to lose consciousness and just as he is about to pass out Trickster appears in front of him.

Danny looks at Batman and orders his robots to tie him upside down, while rummages through his belt. Danny pulls out a lot of things from smoke bomb that accidentally explodes when Danny throws them to a bat shark repellent? What the hell? Anyway, after going through his belt for a while he finally found his target.

The Batwallet.

Danny turns to the hidden camera and starts to monologue.

Trickster: Hello hello everyone. Today, we have a very special guest. Presenting to you an unconscious Batman! And right here I have the strongest weapon in the world. The Batwallet! Hahahahaha.

Trickster: Now, you might be thinking. What is so strong about the wallet? And that my dear friend is the reason I am here today. Let's take a look at what's inside shall we.

Danny pulls out a black card with a bat symbol in the middle of it. Showing it to the camera, Danny gives out the biggest smile he can (somehow).

Trickster: This is the Bat credit card. I know. Sounds stupid. But you know what isn't stupid. The limit on this card. There is no limit. That means I can buy whatever I want with this.

Danny then pulls out a few polaroid pictures from the wallet that catches his attention.

Trickster: What's this? The bats secret identity? Boring. Why would I need to know who they are? Wait. This one is funny. Is this little Nightwing? Hahahaha. He's so little. *Gasp* Little Red Hood. Aww schmuck. I wanna share this with someone. I'm keeping this. I'm sure Batman has backup of these pictures.

Danny then phases the card and the photos into his body and picks up the camera.

Trickster: All right. That's it for today's stream. Oh yeah. We are in the warehouse south of the Bowery. I will shoot a flare after this for you to come get Batman. Well, you better come fast or other people will come for him.

After that the stream is cut off and a flare is shot from one of the warehouses in the Bowery. When the Bats arrived, all that was left was an unconscious Batman, tied up from the ceiling with his belt on the ground.

While the bats are busy extracting Batman back to the cave, Danny is having a feast at the Batburger. On his table, there are 50 sets of burgers, fries and cokes (the soda). Along with his food, he has pretty much paid all the food for everyone inside the Batburger. People were pretty on the fence when he first entered, but Gothamite being Gothamite, they readily accepted him when he paid for their food.

While Danny is busy eating, a big buff guy in a suit approaches him with his own food.

???: Good evening, Mr. Trickster. May I eat with you?

[goaskangel]

helping an overworked john price !

you knew how busy john price could get at the base, especially if he’s stuck in his office with a crippling stacks of paperwork. so you took it as your responsibility, even as the captain’s girlfriend, to let him finish his work up with any distractions or interruptions, and god knows that man can get worked up. like a puppy, you’d stand outside his door, guarding it. maybe leaving your post for a quick coffee run to the lunch room and returning it back inside to his desk, you give each other a quick smile or nod. later you’d walk around the camp, accepting any errand from team members just to keep yourself occupied. 

the next time you gently close his door from the inside and ask him if he’d like another cup. 

“no, that’s alright.” his voice so deep that he clears his throat, most likely from the long period of muteness. you walk towards him and grin when you make contact with him, he sits up in his seat just a little, signaling for a peck. you kiss him and feel him get up casually. 

“don’t go jus’ yet, love.” 

you nod, even when he’s walking away to a file cabinet, his strong back facing you. you hop onto the empty space of his desk and kick your feet gently. john’s hands are warm when he cups your cheeks. you blush at the impact and feel his words go straight to your core, “miss lookin’ at this pretty face. been so busy, i ain’t have the time to see ya.” you giggle and paw at his chest when his beard scratches your face as he kisses you for longer. 

“needa break, birdie.” he mumbles between his kisses, he starts to toy with the various straps of your bra and tank top. you lean back according to his sudden eagerness, supporting yourself whilst his bigger body stands between your dangling legs. as if he’s inhaling you, he only stops smothering you with his love when you pull away for some air. “want it, john.” you find yourself almost moaning out when his large hands come to grasp your thighs, keeping your legs spread at his waist. 

“bad girl. tryna get a working man to submit to your neediness. mm, you’re lucky i’m willing.” he places a kiss on your shoulder before digging his fingers to the band of your shorts. he’s dragged your lower half to complete nudity while he tosses his shirt to his chair. the heat in the entire base almost unbearable, but you thank it for the sight of seeing john’s unshorn body glistening. his strong muscled arms much sexier unconfined to even a compression top. your bare cunt throbbing at the sight. 

“baby,” you call as he unbuckles his tight belt, “i didn’t lock the door.”

“ah, yes. but ‘ts all apart the thrill, love.” unzipping his loose jeans, “bet ya won’t remember the lock very well after i’m done with you.” you wanna slap the smirk off his mouth but your fingers dig into the wood desk when he slips his leaking tip against your sex. gathering that wetness, he smears it against his stiff length. john holds your legs against and prods at your very welcoming body before slipping in, slowly. 

“sh sh, gonna need ya to focus on not makin’ a peep, ‘kay love?” you would’ve stayed quiet regardless if his sweet honeyed voice had told you so, but god was it hard to. 

his large, uncut cock seems to force its path into your tight heat. you felt full even at halfway. the stretch burning exactly how you needed it, you don’t mind if the bite you have on your lip starts to bleed. 

he damn near growls through his barred teeth, “fuckin’ hell…” he holds his grip on your chubby thighs and bottoms out inside you. he wastes no time, quickening his pace, leaving your sweet pussy halfway just to return all the way back inside. you nod at the impact and start to shift and move your hips down to meet him. the deep, quiet groans and moans he lets out make you clench impossibly. 

after a good set of thrusts, he pulls out, letting your leg go to squeeze at the base of his cock. a thick amount of pre pours from your stretched cunt along with your own arousal, you gawk at the mess as you continue to leak down onto the floor, your shaking leg writhing at price’s side for his support. “what a sight, huh?” his very much hearted pupils watch the scene unfold upon him. he grabs your leg and shoves his way back inside of you, you hum at the needed fill. 

his voice is just above a whisper, “gonna be good for me and let me fill ‘er up?” it’s insane how quickly you nod. 

“yeah…pump this pretty cunt, mhm.” he takes a couple of good strokes before pressing flushed against your lower thighs, releasing his love out in you. you’d thank him immediately if your own orgasm didn’t crash down onto you, letting a pained, loud whine. but he can’t just stop there, he pulls his half-hard on out and teases your sensitive body. pushing his load by the tip back into you. cooing at how well you stay pliable and open for him. “so good…yep…my perfect girl, yes you are…” how couldn’t he love you, you just take such good care of him!

[moonstruckme]

Hello there! I was wondering if you would be willing to write a request that I thought up? No pressure of course. I'd love to read your rendition of it but if you don't want to that is absolutely and of course fine.

So I am a pretty emotional person, and especially when I am pmsing or on my period its a very common sight for me to be silently crying over a sad reel or a photo of a puppy or sobbing loudly if I re-read my comfort angsty fic. I really crave physical affection and coddling during my period which sucks cause I live with 2 dormmates who sleep 2 steps away from me and aren't very touchy but are very loving. Like today my friend showed me a photo of her holding a puppy who was nuzzling into her sweatshirt, claws out and hooked in her sleeve and all and ofc I started crying. My other roommate was like don't show it to her she's on her period, she will cry. But then she was like, on second thought do, I enjoy her tears 💀.

On to my actual request now, sorry for rambling 😅

So I was wondering if the reader had a similar tendency with her emotions and hormones around her cycle, how the marauders would deal with it you know? Would they be used to it, asking if its just a leaky faucet to let some emotional pressure out (that happens a lot with me lol) or actual crying. If they would be freaking out no matter how often it happens. Or how they would coddle her.. very curious to see if you pick this up! Thanks for reading nonetheless <3<3

Haha thank you for your request angel <3

cw: reader who menstruates, mention of animals in televion industry, Sirius is not good with tears

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 644 words

You try not to make a spectacle of yourself. You really do. You hide in the corner of the couch, feeling the burn of your sinuses and eventually letting a couple of tears roll down your face without lifting a hand to wipe them. Your throat squeezes. Your temples ache. 

Despite your best efforts, all it takes is one tiny sniffle to get the attention of your boyfriends. 

James’ arm tightens around your shoulders. His cheek squishes into your head, voice heavy with sympathy as you both look at the TV. “I know, angel. It ends alright, though, yeah?” 

“All he does,” you choke out, watching the dog on the screen through blurry vision, “is wait for his owner to come home every day. That’s his whole life.” 

“It’s an advert for dog kibble!” Sirius protests. 

You shrug, weeping, and Sirius gives a short laugh tinged with anxiety. Remus sets a hand on his knee. 

“Sweetheart,” Remus says gently, “I’m sure that in real life, that dog is very well taken care of. He probably gets plenty of attention and time with his owners. He’s famous, right?” 

You nod, though you can’t help a tiny sob as the on-screen dog sits straight up at the sound of a key in the door. “Right.” 

“Right.” Remus gives you a kind look. “You okay? Not upset about anything else?” 

“Yeah.” You sniffle weakly. “M’okay, just. My head hurts.” 

James makes the sort of syrupy pitying sound that has your throat contracting all over again. “Do you think it might be the crying, lovie? It’s not the first time that commercial’s been on today. You could be dehydrated.” 

“I don’t know,” you say, quietly. “I don’t think so.” 

“I’ll fetch you a paracetamol and some water to be sure.” Remus stands, patting Sirius’ thigh consolingly when the other boy shifts off his lap with the movement. He touches the top of your head as he walks behind the couch, and James kisses the spot as though to second it. 

“Baby.” Sirius turns to you with a stern look. “First the Lorax last night, and now this? The ad’s not even on anymore; it’s finished.” 

“It’s just…” You swallow, fighting to keep your voice solid. “Do you think all pets feel like that? When their people leave to go to work?” 

“No, honey,” James consoles you. “I think they’re happy to amuse themselves while we’re gone.” 

“They’re perfectly fine,” says Sirius, not unkindly. “Stop crying.” 

“Don’t be mean.” James gathers you closer. “She’s on her period, she’s entitled to some crying.”

“It’s like the hiccups, James. You’ve got to scare it off.” 

“That’s barbaric.” 

“What’s barbaric is the television industry that keeps making our girlfriend burst into tears at random points in the day!” 

“You guys.” You’re nearly laughing now. With tears still wet on your cheeks, Sirius hardly looks comforted. “Don’t fight.” 

“We’re not fighting.” James is quick to mollify you. 

“Oh, dovey.” Remus returns with your painkillers, bending to wipe your face with a put upon frown. “Are they upsetting you?” 

“God, no.” Sirius reclines back against the cushions, blowing a breath up towards the ceiling. “What chance have we of doing that, when there’s wealthy dog actors to do it for us?” 

You take the water Remus has brought you, downing the painkiller. “Do you really think the dog gets decent money from the advert?” you ask as he pets your hair dotingly. 

James ponders this. “Even if it’s not very much, I’d bet his owners put as much of it back into him as they can. He probably sleeps on a memory foam dog bed.” 

Sirius is watching your face distressedly. “Baby,” he nearly pleads. “It’s okay.” 

“No, that’s good,” you manage, voice a quiet squeak as your eyes fill again. “I just think that’s a really nice life for him. He deserves it.” 

[rafesbangs]

𝜗𝜚 bunny!reader has always had a thing for a regular at her bookstore, older!rafe only comes in to see her

c!w; mdni !! older!rafe, dom!rafe, bunny!reader, age-gap (reader is 18+), size kink, rafe gets called 'daddy' a few times, dirty talk, mutual pining obviously, 'unprotected' sex, p in v, creampie, overstimulation (if you squint), cum play, cum eating, oral (f. receiving)

notes; i had such bad writer's block during the making of this so i apologise if this isn't my best work... also its kinda long before the smut but it needed some plot !!

you'd just gotten a job at a new cozy bookstore in town. it was perfect, had rows and rows of every genre of book a person could think of and a lovely little cafe with a cozy area to read in too. you loved working there, and had recently gotten much more comfortable after finally getting the hang of everything.

there were quite a few regulars that would come in for the coffee and a book, lots were mothers with quiet children that would sit down in the children's corner and read, others were just people of all ages that particularly enjoyed sitting in the bookstore for hours.

you were stacking shelves the first time you saw him; tall, gorgeous and smiling slightly under his cute scruffy moustache. he was flicking through the non-fiction books. though he didn't look like someone that read, adorned in workwear and partially grubby clothing, most likely from his blue collar job.

you could tell he was definitely older, around ten years your senior but still so pretty. after that first minor interaction you started seeing him come in a lot more, every other day basically. you'd worked up the courage to say hi to him after a few more times of seeing him and although your face was probably bright red, he smiled wide and started a conversation with you.

after the ice had been broken you would always talk to him when he came into the bookstore, it got to a point where he wasn't even pretending to be interested in the books around him anymore, he obviously had come in there to see you again.

rafe had also started coming in early before work started, he looked so good in his carhartt jacket and big boots, not yet dirty from a days work. he'd make sure you were the one to make his coffee, always mumbling something about you having a secret gift as he grinned, letting his hand linger over yours when he'd take his cup.

the tension between the two of you was palpable, your friends and co-workers would make jokes about how no one needed to read romance books in there anymore, they had a whole story playing out in front of them.

you would always laugh and smile at their comments, smitten over the idea of being with rafe but there was always the lingering thought that it was just friendly flirting. nothing more. he probably had a girlfriend, or a wife or something. he was too old and too gorgeous, why would he actually want anything to do with little old you.

these thoughts had you spiralling significantly on one particular day; what if you were wasting all your time and feelings on this older guy that would never want you? would you ever get over him? would you be alone forever?

you were zoning out - hard - as you slid the last few books of your shift onto the shelf, you nearly jumped out of your skin when you saw him standing in front of you with a grin.

"sorry, did i give you a fright?" he mumbled, steadying you with his touch, "'thought you'd heard me when i said y'name but there must be s'much goin' on in that head of yours."

you took a breathe and smiled weakly at him, not being able to shake your pessimistic thoughts from seconds before as he stood in front of you, handsome and speaking.

"no, sorry- lots on my mind i guess" you shrugged, fiddling with your fingers. rafe's brow furrowed, he'd seen you stressed and frustrated because of work but never like this, anxious and pensive.

he tilted his head a little, "what's wrong hm?" he softly coaxed, looking deep into your eyes as he reached out and rubbed your arm with his thumb.

you looked up at him through your lashes, "nothing.. nothing really..." you mumbled, chewing your lip a little.

his gaze darkened as he watched you, "something you wanna ask me bunny?"

you shook your head after shuddering at the nickname. a nickname only rafe used with you, it never failed to give you goosebumps down your body and cause your thighs to squeeze together a little, "don't worry.. er, i'm about to close up in a minute - you don't mind walking me to my car do you?"

his pursed lips melted into a smile and he looked up for a second before nodding. you smiled at him before finally putting away the last few things and grabbing the bookstore's keys. rafe followed you out as you left the store and locked the doors from the outside.

"cold tonight hmm" rafe remarked, looking out at the dim parking lot and neighbouring streets as he walked close to you. you hummed in agreement, readjusting the jacket tighter around you.

when you finally reached your car you looked up at him with a longing smile before he tilted his head, grinning at you, "you gonna tell me what you were thinking about earlier?"

you shook your head, nerves chewing at your lip again.

"c'mon, 'm not gonna see you tomorrow, 'ts your day off bunny, can't make me just wonder all this time hm?" he playfully whined, inching his body closer to yours. you were a little stunned by his words.

"you remember my day off's tomorrow?" the nerves were rising in your tummy now, bubbling around and exploding.

he smirked, sliding your hand into his, "course i'd know when the only reason i go into that bookshop isn't there."

"rafe" you gushed, covering your face a little and shaking your head. you couldn't believe your ears, you thought you weren't stupid or anything but here you were, hearing that he wanted you the whole time. "i thought you were just.. i don't know, entertaining the idea of me this whole time..."

his lips parted and brow furrowed as if it was completely incomprehensible that he might've not actually wanted you, "bunny... you must be talking pure shit now because i thought i'd made it obvious i wanted you from the second i'd gotten to know you."

you chewed at your lip, heat pooling in your tummy as he instinctively inched closer to you as he spoke. all you wanted to do now was jump his bones, and you kept glancing down at the bulge in his pants as it became closer and closer to you.

he noticed your wandering eyes and laughed a little, throwing his head back before sliding both hands up your arms carefully, "...so you said you don't have heating huh?"

you nodded, feeling dizzy at the realisation of what he was about to ask you.

he scoffed with a grin, "see, i've got heating at my place that works pretty well, and - bunny, with the way you're looking at me right now, i think we're better off going there."

you smiled, staring up at him through your lashes before nodding and in an instant he'd grabbed your hand, leading you to his truck. the drive was probably fairly quick, but it felt like hours of agony to the both of you as you patiently waited. rafe's hand was possessively gripping your thigh and you felt wetness in your panties thinking about where else his hands would trail to.

it was a blur, stumbling out of his truck and into his house, you barely looked at the place before the two of you, sloppy and all over each other, had made it to his bedroom. your body was on vibrate but he took a second to take his huge jacket and long sleeve shirt off.

you breathed heavily, eyes widening when street light through the window illuminated his toned chest, he was built like a greek god and you nearly moaned at the thought of all that being all over you.

he teasingly peeled your clothes off, article by article, grinning all the way. he could see you twitching and heavily breathing at every movement, it only fuelled him more.

finally you were in nothing but panties and a bra, matching of course, which made rafe's eyes go wild, "jesus, look at you." he breathed, running his hands along the side of your body as you lay under him.

you slid your arms around his neck and tried to pull him in but he grinned at your lack of strength and you frowned playfully, squirming at the lack of action.

"you gonna ask nicely bunny?" his lips were centimetres away from yours, he was really enjoying teasing you now.

"please... please i want you inside me so bad" you whined, pouting and running your hands into his shaggy mullet. he smirked and leaned in, passionately pressing his lips to yours, engulfing you in heat.

your hands pulled at his jeans, ripping down the zipper as you slid a palm across his clothed cock, gasping at his lips over how big you found him to be.

he tugged himself out of his boxers before lowering down to your core, you burned with desire as you watched the greek god looming over you, slowly bully his cock into your weeping hole.

you groaned at the feeling, his cock slowly slipping all the way down, filling you to the hilt. your grip around his neck tightened, along with his hands holding you steady at your hips.

he drilled into you at an unrelenting pace, the sound of his cock diving in and out of your wet pussy causing him to groan gutturally, "uhghh, you like this big cock baby? c'mon, tell me you've been thinking about daddy's cock since you met me hmm"

you eyes were rolling back, the pleasure becoming too much already, "mmmh i think about daddy's cock all the time... oh! fuuuck."

you looked down at your tummy, a clear huge bulge poking everytime rafe drove his dick into you, only making you dizzier. he was just so big.

a creamy line of arousal was thick around the base of rafe's cock, your breath all ragged as he continued to drill into you, toying with your clit to overstimulate you.

you were shaking under him, one hand gripping onto a bicep and the other tugging the sheets beside you. the sheer girth of him was splitting you open, rafe grinned at the yelps escaping your lips with every thrust.

"pussy's swallowing me whole, fuck bunny" he grunted into your lips, launching in for yet another seering kiss while his thrusts became sloppy but deeper. plap-plap-plap filled the room along with your pornographic moans.

"nghh daddy, i'm- oh, g'na cum!" you cried, nails digging into his flesh.

he was panting into your neck, "'know baby, can feel your pussy milking me- fuuuuuck" you felt the rush of your orgasm as rafe's thick white ropes coated your insides. he continued to thrust into you a few more times, watching your pussy swallow all his cum before pulling out.

"such a good bunny, look at that shit.." he mumbled, dragging a finger over your wet whole, playing with and pushing his release back into you. "so wet..."

he dipped his head down, lapping up both your juices that had coated your folds. you twitched from the sensation, still recovering from his cock.

"rafeee- oh god- too sensitive.." you whined, hand laced in his hair. he lifted his head and looked at you with a grin, his moustache gleaming with wetness.

"oh bunny now that i've had you, shit, i'm never letting my little girl go."

[cjlouwho]

This got a little long winded, so it gets its own post. The story you are about to read is based off of this poll. These are your choices.

Tommy was pretty sure he'd never felt a headache like this before. He wasn't prone to migraines, but he'd seen his mother suffer with them and this... well, this might be worse.

He squeezed his eyes shut, groaning as a wave of nausea fell over him.

It wasn't just his head that hurt. It was his whole body.

Damn, he hadn't been this sick in... well, ever.

His body shook with chills. There was a heaviness in his chest that had him turning his head to the side and choking out a hard cough.

Once he finally settled, that heaviness still there, he slowly let out a raspy breath.

Pudding.

He wanted pudding.

That was odd. He used to crave pudding as a child. Every time he got sick, he would request a pudding cup. And that's what he wanted right now.

Maybe he still had one in the fridge. He'd kept a few things there for Jee back when- Well, he had some kid foods that had been sitting in his fridge for a couple months now. Surely, the pudding would still be fine.

If only he could get out of bed.

He made a mental note to order a new mattress. This one had lasted him quite a few years, but he was definitely feeling the lumps today. It was hard and painful and poked into his back.

“God, this sucks,” he breathed out, blinking his bleary eyes open and... oh.

This wasn't right.

He wasn't at home. Wasn't in his bed.

And the heaviness in his chest was actually on his chest.

That's when the memories came flooding back to him. Going for a flight on his day off. Wanting to clear his head and get his thoughts in order.

He couldn't panic. He needed to maintain focus.

That was hard to do when his brain was all jumbled.

He remembered his phone was... somewhere.

Shirt pocket! That was it!

Carefully, and painfully, he reached up and pulled out the phone.

Miraculously, it was still in one piece. Besides a few cracks to the screen, it seemed to be working fine.

He stared at the screen. The default background that was once a picture of him and Evan.

It hurt to breathe. Hurt to think. He knew he probably didn't have that much time. Not with the way this heavy piece of metal pressed against his body.

So, with fuzzy eyes, Tommy went to his contacts, hovering his finger over the name before pressing down.

“Hello?”

“H- Hey. Long time, n- no talk.”

“Tommy? What's up? Are you okay?”

Tommy huffed out a laugh. “I... Well, that's a loaded question.”

“You sound weird. What's wrong?”

“I wanted to a- apologize to you.” With a grimace, he swallowed down what was definitely blood.

“For what?”

“For everything.”

There was a pause, then, “Did you do something stupid?”

“Not intentionally,” he deadpanned. “Listen, I- I kinda got into an accident and I...” his voice trailed off as he went into a coughing fit. The movement sent a pain shooting from his leg to his back. “Damn it!” he yelled.

“Tommy! Tommy, talk to me. What do you mean you got in an accident?”

“No, it- it doesn't matter. I just wanted t- to apologize for the way I left you.”

“You apologized for that years ago, Tommy. Tell me what happened so I-”

“Abby!” he exclaimed, the hunk of metal over him creaked as it lowered slightly. “I don't... I just need to apologize. I- you loved me, didn't you?”

“Yeah, I did. Car crash, or were you flying?”

“F- Flying. I loved you too. Not... Not the same though. Sorry.”

He could hear her mumbling something to someone else, then she was back on the line. “I'm calling 911 with Sam's phone. Stay on the line with me, Tommy. Are you in LA?”

“Mhm. Do- Don't think I made it far. Abby, listen, I didn't... I didn't mean to hurt you. I was so s- scared of- of everything.”

“Do you see anything around you? Any indicators for where you are? They're working on pinging your phone.”

When Tommy turned his head to the side, all he could see was trees. “Woods. I think. Can't see much. I was dating th- this guy.”

“Can you tell me where you're hurt? Are you bleeding anywhere?”

“Oh, for sure. But A- Abby, I didn't m- mean to hurt you.”

“Focus, please. Where are you bleeding?”

“Head. Leg. Mouth. Kinda e- everywhere. I was dating th- this guy,” Tommy sucked in a shaky breath, a rattling in his lungs. “Your guy, actually. O- Our guy?”

“Tommy, I think you're getting confused. I-”

“No, no. Evan. Buckley, Ev- Buck. Him.”

There was silence on the other end of the line.

“Hello?”

“No, I'm here. I- You're dating Buck?”

“Was dating Buck. I- I ended it. I'm c- cold.”

“Help is on the way, Tommy, just stay with me. You broke up with Buck. Why?”

“Remember wh- when we went to karaoke nights? Th- That was fun, wasn't it?”

Abby sighed. “It was, but that's not what we're talking about.”

“Wh- What was the song we us- used to sing?”

“You were a big Queen fan. I Want to Break Free. Shoulda known,” she mumbled.

Tommy laughed, but it quickly turned into a coughing fit, where blood bubbled up in his mouth.

“Tommy! Tommy, stay calm, okay. Turn your head a little so you don't choke.”

Tommy listened, spitting out the blood before he continued. “We should karaoke again.”

“I don't think that's gonna happen. Tell me about Buck.”

“Evan.” Tears filled in Tommy's eyes and he tried his hardest to blink them away. “We were t- together six months and it all f- fell apart.”

“Why?”

“He wanted... wanted me to move in. Can you b- believe that?”

“Yeah, actually, I can,” she answered. “Buck likes to attach and you're, well, attachable.”

“No. No, I'm not.”

“You haven't changed much, Tommy. You didn't seem to think you were worthy when we were together either.”

Tommy's eyebrows furrowed. Down his back he could feel the sensation of more blood dripping from his neck. “What d- do you mean?”

“The whole time we were together it felt like you were waiting for a bomb to drop.”

“That probably had to do with the whole being gay thing.”

“Mm,” she hummed. “Maybe. Don't think so though. Hang on a second.”

He looked up at the hunk of metal trapping him in place. “Nowhere to go.”

Tommy closed his eyes while he waited. He wasn't sure how much time passed, but the next thing he remembered, Abby was yelling in his ear. “-mmy! Tommy, talk to me!”

“Wha- I'm here, I'm here. God, you're l- loud.”

“And you're an ass. If I was there I'd smack you on the back of the head.”

“That would hurt,” he replied. “With the gaping wound an- and all the blood.”

“Back to Buck. Why'd you say no to moving in?”

“I own a home.”

“And?”

Tommy thought for a moment. “I- I wasn't enough for you, Abby. Couldn't be.”

“Mhm.”

“I hurt you. Didn't m- mean to, but I did. I saw- I saw it in your eyes, when I left, I... You loved me, and I couldn't... I'm sorry.”

“Is that why you left?” Abby asked. “You were afraid Buck would do the same thing to you?”

“I really...” he couldn't stop the tears now. His chest heaved in the little space it had left. “I really loved him, Abby, and I- I saw what I did to you and I couldn't. I just co- co- couldn't-”

“Okay, okay, Tommy, I need you to stay calm, okay? Listen, the dispatcher is telling me that the 118 is close to you. So you stay calm and you talk to me!”

“O- Okay.” He tried to calm his breathing the best he could, but the rattle persisted. He knew that didn't mean anything good. Each breath got a little harder, the blood continued to flow down his neck, and he was pretty sure something was sticking through his leg.

“Did you tell him how you felt?”

“He didn't... He never said it. That he loved me.”

“Did you?”

“No.”

“Maybe he was waiting on you. Did you think of that?”

“I think...” He just wanted to close his eyes. Nothing made sense, the cold feeling was fading, he was going numb. “I think I- I'm dying, Abby.”

“No! Listen to me, Tommy! They're close to you! I need you to make a noise. Let them know where you are. You hear me?! Call for help, Tommy.”

“Abb-”

“Call for help!”

Tommy groaned, more blood coming up in his throat. He managed to move one arm just enough for his hand to knock on the door of the chopper. “H- Here!” he yelled, banging on the door as hard as he could manage. “I- I'm here!”

Abby listened over the phone as the 118 arrived on scene. She could only make out bits and pieces.

“Tommy, can.... me? Talk to... There ya go! We got a...”

“What about the...”

“Hey. Hey, we're here, Tommy. Just focus on... and we'll get ya out, okay?”

“He's losing too... gotta get that off now!”

“Tommy, you look at me! We will... you just gotta promise me you'll... Promise?”

She waited, holding her breath until she heard his voice, just a touch above a whisper. “Promise.”

Things got quieter for a bit, then she heard voices again, so she yelled, “Hey! Hey, pick up the phone! Someone pick it up!”

“H- Hello?”

“Buck, is that you?”

“Yeah, Abby, it- it's me,” he answered, his voice practically shaking. “Maddie said y- you were on the line with him.”

“Is he...?”

“He's alive. We're following the ambulance to the hospital.”

“How bad?”

She could hear Buck sniffling through the line. “I don't know how he's alive, Abby,” he admitted, lip trembling. “It looks like this thing has been through a compactor.”

“And Tommy?”

"Has a gash on the back of the head, concussion, broken ribs, a pretty big piece of glass through his leg, definitely some internal bleeding. He... Chim says he should make it, but we- we barely got here in time. He might've... if he wasn't talking to you he probably...” He couldn't even bring himself to say the words.

“Hey, don't think about that now. He's gonna be fine. That's what matters.”

“Yeah.” Buck ran a hand over his eyes as he nodded. “Yeah, you're right.”

“I'll let you go, Buck, but let me know when he's stable, okay?”

“Yeah, I will. Thanks, Abby.”

“Of course. Oh, and Buck!” she quickly added before he could hangup.

“Yeah?”

“I know the guy pretty well. He loves you. He's just not great at being loved.”

“A- Abby-”

“Don't give up on him. He's worth it.” Before Buck could get in another word, she hung up.

*****

The next time Tommy opened his eyes, he was in a hospital bed.

Evan was beside him, staring down at an empty cup in his hands. Tommy figured he must've sensed the staring, because soon enough Buck was meeting his eyes. “You're awake,” he said, eyebrows rising.

“I-” Tommy cleared his throat. “I think so, yeah.”

“There's been a couple wake ups that didn't quite stick,” Buck explained, standing to grab cup of water. He put the straw to Tommy's mouth and had him take a sip. “Slowly,” he instructed. “Don't want you choking.”

Tommy took a few sips, then settled back in the bed. “How long was I out for?”

“Almost four days.”

Tommy's eyes widened. “You.. You haven't been here the whole time?” he asked. “Have you?”

Buck nodded. “Three nurses have tried to drag me out of here. All have failed.”

Tommy hoped the monitor didn't show how fast his heart felt like it was beating. “Wh- Why? Why'd you stay?”

Buck smiled, wrapping his shaky hand around Tommy's. “A mutual friend of ours told me you were worth it,” he said, his eyes glistening with tears. “I just so happen to agree.”

[justhereforsubsevika]

this is mainly smut not a lot of plot,

i will say for the room that sex work is not to be romanticised and is a degrading line of work that women should never be forced into (i know, what a bummer way to start a fic) but for a fantasy...TEEHEE

Okay i got a bit carried away describing sevikas pussy so its a little explicit, dom vers sevi, pussy eating, strap sex (minor), cum-sharing (girl this is so nasty), fingering, it's pretty short sorry :(

Sevika had been coming to you for months. She did frequent the brothel prior to your employment, but got addicted the minute she tasted you for the first time. Until now, you'd been on the receiving end of pleasure. She'd come to the brothel, request her special girl (which babette always rolled her eyes at), and cherish your body. She would spend at least 30 minutes kissing across all your skin, her dark brown lipstick littering your body, before fucking your brains out.

On this particular occasion, Sevika had been plowing into you for half her 3 hour duration with you. You had cum on her strap more times than you could count, your eyes crossed in the top of your head, your weak moans muffled by your mask. It drove her insane, not being able to see how your eyebrows quirked when she picked out her strap, not being able to see you bite down on your lip, not being able to see the tears that streaked down your face.

As you groaned and gripped the pillows behind you to brace yourself for another orgasm, Sevika grunted and twisted her lips to the side. "Fuck, princess, what I'd give to paint that pretty face in my cum." Filth being groaned out to you wasn't uncommon, but something about Sevika saying such dirty words made your mind snap. You came whining and using your feet to push at her hips. She pulled out slowly and gently, sitting beside you and tracing her fingers around your nipples. She would never dare push you past your limits, something that was, unfortunately, foreign in your line of work.

Maybe it was the way she fucked you. Maybe it was the fact that you had built up a little friendship since you'd seen her for months on end. Maybe it was just that, underneath her hard exterior, she was a sweet woman who cared about you above her own pleasure. Whatever the reason was, you trusted her.

"You can do that.. that thing you said... if you want.." you mumbled as she kissed gently against your neck. "I'm not riding your mask, I'll break it." You giggled and pinched the bottom of your mask, lifting it enough to kiss Sevika's neck. You straddled her and sat up, preparing yourself for what you were going to do. She looked at you wide-eyed, hand resting on your thigh and flexing with anticipation.

You removed it and she moaned, moaned at the sight of your face. Jesus, you didn't think you were that hot.

"Oh fuck, fuck get on your knees princess," she spluttered, fighting her way out of her strap and taking off her boy-shorts, legs spread on the leather sofa in one quick movement. Your eyes shimmered as you took in the sight of her pussy. It was.. well it was like the straps she always chose. It was big. Her pussy was just.. everything about it was almost obnoxious. Her outer lips puffy and chubby, shrouded in thick black hair that ran up to her belly button and along the inside of her thighs. Her inner lips were dripping, huge and protruding, daring you to suck on them. Her pussy was a deep shade of brown fading into a dark fucsia when you spread her open. Nothing about it was "neat" or "cute", it was womanly. It was natural. It was sexy as fuck.

Teasingly, you poked your tongue a little ways inside her, making her grunt and take you by the back of your head. She shoved your face into her sopping wet pussy, groaning when you whined at her taste. You wrapped your arms around her thighs and got to work, nose shoving against her, again, obnoxiously big clit. "Mmmph, so good for me princess, so good," she grunted out, using the grip she had on your hair to maneuver you how she liked. She grinded her hips against your face, quite literally painting your face in her moisture. You left soothing touches up her hips, gripping at her hip bones, tracing the indents of her abs.

You assumed she'd be sensitive due to the sheer size of her clit, and you were absolutely right. It didn't take long for creamy, white cum to force its way across your cheeks, drip down your chin, down your throat. You spluttered and coughed, your air having been deprived for the short duration in which you sucked on her pussy. She leant down to you and opened her mouth, inviting you to spit her cum back down her own throat.

You did so and she grinned, kissing you with an open mouth, her cum and your saliva dribbling down your cheeks. As you kissed , you snaked your fingers between her legs, slipping them inside her messy pussy. She moaned into your mouth and shoved her tongue down your throat, you sucking on it instinctively.

As you curled your fingers and pumped them into her, sevika guided you down to the floor. She gripped your hair for balance and bounced on your fingers, eyes shut tight, mouth hanging open. She grinded on you, finding a steady rhythm.

"More, princess," she whined out, and you added a third finger into her pussy, making her groan and grip your hair harder. You brought your other hand up to toy with her clit, thumbing her under the hood, making her throw her head back.

She creamed onto you again, her cum seeping its way down your wrist and painting your breasts as she rode out her orgasm. She slowed down and brazenly checked herself out, gripping a little at her ass before standing and scooping you up.

She placed you gently onto the couch and licked up her cum from your breasts, stopping to suck at your nipples, and of course giving you open mouthed kisses with her mess still on her tongue.

(asker wanted the post taken down but gave permission to reupload!!)

[tortillamastersblog]

Back To You - Part 9 | Sam Carpenter

Pairing: Sam Carpenter x reader

Warnings: none

Summary: When Sam left after turning eighteen, you were devastated. You’d been in love with her since you were kids and her leaving meant you never got to tell her how you truly felt.

Fast forward a couple of years, Tara gets attacked and Sam returns. . .

Previous Part | Next Part | Masterlist

_______________________________________________

“You didn’t!” Tara laughs happily and continues unwrapping the gift I got her which is a vintage video camera.

I figured she’d like it because she wants to be a film major and judging by her reaction, she does.

She woke me a couple of minutes ago by literally sitting on me, wishing me a Merry Christmas before shoving a present for me in my face.

I haven’t opened it yet because I wanted to see her reaction to my present first, and also because I want Sam to be there when I open it because it’s from both of them.

Tara finishes unwrapping and takes the camera out of its box, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “This is so cool.”

She inspects it from all angles and turns it on while I watch, happy that she likes it.

“You guys started without me?”

Sam’s voice makes me look over my shoulder and when I see her standing in the doorway of her room with a pout and sleep mussed hair, I smile and get up, stretching.

“Tara did, but don’t worry. You haven’t missed much so far.”

Sam huffs, but I can tell she’s not really annoyed. She makes her way over to us and plops down on the couch, running her fingers through her tangled hair in an attempt to tame it a little.

It looks like she’s still half asleep and I can’t help but think how adorable she looks like this, wearing faded gray sweatpants and an oversized black shirt.

The memory of her putting a blanket over me last night is still fresh in my mind, and I make a mental note to finally talk to her once we’re alone.

Tara fumbles around with the camera and moves to her sister’s side to show her what I got her. Sam seems impressed and she asks Tara to try and film something and while the two of them are busy figuring out how the camera works I pull off my hoodie.

I’ve been hot since I woke up, but I haven’t had a chance to take it off until now.

“Damn, Y/N,” Tara comments.

I raise an eyebrow as I pull my shirt, which rode up, back down over my stomach. “Huh?”

The camera momentarily forgotten in her hands, Tara wiggles her eyebrows suggestively while gesturing at me. “Someone’s been working out.”

My eyes widen in surprise before embarrassment washes over me.

It’s true, I’ve been working out like crazy since getting back on my feet, and I’m in better shape than I’ve ever been now that playing hockey is my literal job, but I usually don’t like to show it off and I really didn’t mean to expose myself like that just now.

“I mean, do they feed you steroids in Boston, or what?” Tara teases with a smirk.

“No they don’t, shut up,” I fire back weakly, tossing the hoodie at her face.

She catches it in time before it hits her and puts it down next to her, her smirk still present. “I’m just sayin’.”

I roll my eyes and scratch the back of my neck, hoping my cheeks aren’t all too red. “Yeah, whatever. Thanks.”

Tara chuckles and I go to take a seat on the couch next to her when I notice the way Sam’s uncharacteristically quiet.

I glance at her, worried that something might be wrong, but what I see makes my heart swoop in my chest instead.

Her eyes are trained on her fumbling hands in her lap, the tips of her ears are red, and she keeps swallowing thickly. In short, she’s flustered and the fact that it’s because my shirt rode up makes my heart beat faster and makes me feel like it wasn’t such a bad thing after all.

Not wanting to embarrass her though, I don’t comment on it and take a seat, gesturing for Tara to hand me the other gift on top of my bag.

“This one’s for you,” I say to Sam once Tara has given it to me and the way Sam’s brown eyes widen in surprise makes me chuckle softly. “What? You thought I wouldn’t get you anything?”

“N-No, I just— That’s not,” she stammers, clearing her throat and looking down for a moment before looking back up with a small smile. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” I hand it to her and try not to let it show that a shiver runs up my spine when her finger brush against mine.

Tara puts her camera down and together we watch Sam unwrap the flat, palm-sized box. She shoots me a questioning look, realizing it’s a black jewlery box, but I don’t say anything. I just smile and encourage her to open it with a wave of my hand.

Tara looks at me with a knowing smile and I smile back, loving the way Sam gasps in disbelief when her eyes land on the gold necklace on display inside the box.

“Do you like it?” I ask and the way Sam’s eyes shine when she looks up is answer enough.

Even so, she nods vigorously, her eyes darting back and forth between me and the necklace. “I love it, b-but how did you—?”

I shrug, feigning ignorance, and Tara does her best to hide her smile by busying herself with her camera again. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I say. “I just saw this and thought you’d like it.”

Sam chuckles incredulously and a, “Liar” slips past her lips, but she doesn’t ask how I knew about it again. Instead she looks back at the necklace, her finger brushing over the sun symbol engraved in the round pendant before taking it out and turning to me with a vulnerable expression. “Put it on me?”

I nod timidly, suddenly feeling shy and doing my best to ignore the questioning look Tara shoots at me before taking the necklace from Sam.

She shifts on the couch so her back is turned to me, and gathers her hair in a ponytail, exposing her neck to me.

I force myself to breathe normally at the sight, wanting nothing more than to press a kiss to it, and put the necklace around her neck.

“Thank you.” Sam lets go of her hair again and turns back around, touching the pendant for a moment before hugging me.

I hug her back and this time I don’t stop myself from pressing a chaste kiss to her temple. It makes her tighten her arms around my neck before pulling back.

“Okay, now it’s your turn,” Tara says, grabbing my present and throwing it in my lap.

I chuckle and shoot Sam one last smile, getting to work on unwrapping my own present.

It’s turns out to be a jewelry box as well, but it’s smaller than Sam’s and when I open it and see what’s inside, I immediately feel tears prick my eyes.

It’s a gold bracelet with my parents’ initials engraved in it in their handwriting.

I swallow thickly and look up to find Sam and Tara watching me hopefully.

“Guys. . . This is—“ I clear my throat and blink my tears away, “—This is beautiful. Thank you.”

The two sisters exhale, relieved, and Tara is quick to climb over Sam to put the bracelet on my wrist.

“There. . . Now you’ll always have a part of your parents with you,” she says, adding, “It was Sam’s idea.”

I rub my eyes to get rid of any more tears and kiss the top of her head before looking at Sam over her shoulder. “Thank you. Really. It means a lot to me.”

I love it. I absolutely love it, but the fact that it was Sam’s idea makes it extra special.

The two of them really are my family, and I just know that if my parents could see us now they’d be glad that we all found our way back to each other.

“So, how are Liam and Paige?” Tara asks over breakfast.

After we exchanged a few more presents we all got ready for the day and made breakfast together. Sam did most of the cooking since she decided we were having pancakes, but Tara and I l cut some fruits, made coffee, and set the table.

“Good.” I say after swallowing the sip of coffee I just took. “Liam just moved to New York and Paige moved to Portland, but they’re both here for the holidays to visit their parents.”

“Paige moved to Portland?” Tara asks with a raised eyebrow. “Why not New York, like Liam?”

Sam hums in agreement and I take another bite of my pancakes before answering, “Because her girlfriend lives in Portland. They’ve been doing long distance for over two years and they were sick of never seeing each other, so they decided to move in together.”

“Hmm, alright. Makes sense,” Tara says, ready to move on, but Sam snorts and stabs a piece of strawberry with her fork, saying, “Yeah, good for them. . . I’d never do long distance.”

I freeze, but no one notices and Sam goes on, unfazed. “I mean, only being able to see each other five or six times a year, maybe even less? Yeah, no thank you.”

Tara shrugs, obviously not caring, but I stay still, feeling like the rug’s just been pulled out from under me.

I live in Boston and Sam lives here. . . Even if she had feelings for me, she’d never want to be in a relationship with me. She just made that perfectly clear.

The realization feels like a punch to my stomach and I no longer feel like eating, completely drowning out Tara’s voice when she changes the subject.

Sam will never be with me, so it doesn’t matter how she feels about me. It doesn’t matter how I feel about her.

I set down my fork and get up, feeling like I’m in a trance.

Tara and Sam stop talking at the abruptness of my movement, their eyebrows furrowing, and before they can ask what I’m doing I mumble, “I’m going to take a shower, I’m a little cold.“

I’m neither cold, nor do I need a shower, but I need a moment to control my emotions and hide how much what Sam just said hurt me, so I go to my bag to grab a fresh set of clothes.

“Y/N. . .?” Tara asks hesitantly, but I don’t answer. I just go to the bathroom, lock the door behind me and get into the shower.

Sam doesn’t owe me anything. I know that, but what she said hurt and made me realize that the hope I had of ever being with her was futile.

All along, it was futile. We’ll never be together and she’ll never see me the way I see her.

Maybe I should try to move on. . .

A tear rolls down my cheek and I don’t bother wiping it away because the stream of the shower washes it away a moment later.

When I get out of the bathroom, the apartment is quiet and at first I think no one’s home, but then I sport Tara on the couch, figuring out how to work her new camera.

Sam is nowhere to be seen, but the table has been cleared and the dishwasher is running so she can’t be far.

“Hey, Sprout,” I say quietly, taking a seat next to her. “You good?”

Tara looks up and the way her eyes soften at the sight of me makes me wonder if my inner turmoil is really that obvious.

“Sam went out to get some snacks for when Mindy and Chad come over,” she says which makes me frown.

“I. . . didn’t ask,” I say tentatively, not wanting to offend her.

Tara just sighs and puts the camera down, turning to me with her lips pulled into a frown. “No, you didn’t, but I know you.”

That makes me smile nervously. “What are you talking about?”

Tara’s shoulders sag and she wordlessly moves to my side, resting her head on my shoulder and hugging my arm to her chest. “I know you like Sam, Y/N. I’ve known since the day she left. You weren’t just sad because your best friend left. . . You were heartbroken.”

I swallow thickly. I’ve always made it a point not to lie to Tara, so I’m not going to start now by denying anything. I don’t know what to say though, so I stay silent and sink back into the couch, letting my cheek rest against the top of her head.

“I know what she said about the whole long distance thing really bummed you out, but I don’t think she even realizes what it meant to you when she said it,” Tara whispers. “She can be a little. . . insensitive sometimes, but. . . I see the way she looks at you, Y/N, and all I can ask of you is that you don’t give up on her just yet.”

I sigh and nudge Tara’s knee with my own. “Easier said than done, Sprout.”

Tara sighs as well and squeezes my arm. “I know.”

Silence settles over us for a couple of moments until I remember something I’ve been meaning to tell Tara for a while now.

“Tara?”

“Yeah?”

“While we’re being honest I just want to say I’m sorry for how things turned out with you and Amber. I know you liked her.”

Like me, she doesn’t deny anything. She just holds my arm tighter and plays with the fabric of my sleeve.

_______________________________________________

Very short chapter, but it was necessary before we dive into the plot of the sixth movie next chapter.

Hope you all enjoyed it!

Next chapter is definitely going to be longer, I promise, but it’s going to take some time to write.

Tag list: @bella423 @artrizzler19 @btay3115 @canyonyodeler @quadofthec @pussyydestroyer @rqizzu @pithod @morganismspam23

[leighsartworks216]

It's Nothing

Sylus x AFAB!Reader

Inspired by my late as fuck period and joking with my friend that I was the next virgin mary. Not proofread cuz I want to post it but I'm tired of looking at it

Warnings: pregnancy scare, menstruation, period fic, anxiety, overthinking, lack of communication, communication, silly, cuddling, kissing, swearing

Word Count: 1,450

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Second Love and Deepspace Masterlist

AO3

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"Sweetie? What has you so distracted lately?"

"Nothing! Nothing at all! I was just, uh- thinking about work, that's all!"

"You're a terrible liar. Tell me what's wrong."

"It's-" You falter, searching desperately for an excuse and coming up woefully empty "It's really nothing, Sy. I'll tell you at some point, just..."

"... Just not right now." He sighs, but nods, dismissing the subject. A frown lingers on his face as he turns back to the movie. "I trust you, sweetie," he says after a long pause, when it seemed the topic had been dropped completely.

The guilt sinks down into your stomach, but you bite your tongue and cuddle further into his side. The rest of the night remains tense.

You want to tell him. Admit what's on your mind. Finally release this stress from your body. But you can't! Because... what if he leaves you? And maybe you're just being paranoid for nothing - but you can't take that risk, not with Sylus, of all people.

Your period is over a week late. That's not terribly unusual, but it is suspicious given the fact you've stopped using protection in the bedroom. Well, not necessarily stopped, since you're on birth control, but things get heated and he's finished inside of you without a condom. So... what if your birth control didn't do its job 100%? You know there’s a small percentage of it failing, so what if this time is the time it chooses to be ineffective?

Dr. Zayne is the only person you've told about your fears, when you went in for a checkup and nervously asked if he could run a pregnancy test for you. You're not sure if being your childhood friend made the next line of questioning about your sex life more or less awkward. You do know that that test came back negative... But Zayne said after the fact that it could be too early to tell.

So all you can really do now is wait until you do or don't get your period again.

You know it bothers Sylus a lot, your secrecy. You two have both progressed so far in learning how to trust each other, even with the stupid things. This just... doesn't feel like one of those stupid things. You've only just put a name to the relationship, you don't want to ruin that now when things are so new and nice.

So you hold it in. You try your damndest to put it on the back burner and show him as best you can that everything is fine and that you still love and trust him.

You wake up with your body's internal clock. With the N109 Zone being so dark, knowing when day is is a bit tricky. But, Sylus is asleep beside you, laying on his stomach with his face buried in his pillow. He doesn't have a shirt on. A wide expanse of tan skin and rippling muscle is left exposed as the blankets all pool around his hips.

You smile to yourself, albeit a bit mournfully. You're glad he's still sleeping beside you, even if you've both been a bit rocky lately. It's all your fault - you know. You'll make it up to him somehow. You have to.

Slowly, as quietly as you can, you slip out of bed and creep to the bathroom...

"Sy!" You see him startle out of sleep, hand already wrapped around the gun under his pillow as he sits up, searching for the danger.

"What is it?" he asks sharply. You run and jump onto the bed, landing partially on top of him. He tosses the gun onto his nightstand and lifts you by the waist to reposition you into his lap as he sits up properly. "What's got you so excited?"

"I'm not pregnant!"

He blinks up at you with a frown. You grab his shoulders like an excited kid, looking at him expectantly. He feels like he’s skipped several chapters into a book and the plot twist reveal isn’t making any sense. "What are you talking about, sweetie?"

You're practically vibrating in his lap with energy. It's the most light he's seen in your eyes for the last week and a half. It's... relieving. "I'm not pregnant! We haven't been as careful with protection lately and then my period was supposed to come, but it didn't, so I had a pregnancy test done, but Zayne said it could be too early to tell when it came back negative, so I've been waiting and waiting to know if I really am and-! And I'm not! I'm bleeding again, Sylus! I'm not pregnant!"

He shakes his head, brow pinched with a pained expression. "That's the 'nothing' you've been distracted by all week?"

"Um..." You grin sheepishly. "Yeah?"

He takes a moment, eyes closed and lips drawn into a frown. That guilt that settled in your stomach during your movie night returns, doubled in intensity. You got over-worried and kept secrets from your boyfriend, when you could have just told him from the start how weird it was that your period is late and how worried you are about what it could mean.

"Sy...?"

"Mmm."

"Are you mad at me?"

He finally opens his eyes. The expression eases slightly as he shakes his head with a sigh. "Have the cramps hit yet?"

You shake your head. "Um, no?"

Suddenly, his arms are wrapped around you and your world tilts on its axis. A heavy weight settles above you. Sylus's nose presses against your neck. "Good. Let's stay here for when they do."

You try to wriggle loose. He tightens his hold around you and nips at your skin sharply. You jolt, but it stops your struggling. “Why do we have to stay here for my cramps?”

“Because, sweetie,” he sighs. You’d think he’s annoyed, if it weren’t for the way he runs his nose along the column of your throat and eases his weight fully onto your body. “When your cramps start, you’re going to want a heating pad and a massage. And since you hate my massages-“

“I do not!”

“-it’s better if I just lay here and provide all the heat you desire.”

His logic isn’t faulty… And, honestly, having him so close to you again, without the barrier you built between you both, is really, really nice. So, you relent. You wrap your arms around his neck and begin playing with his hair. He lets out a contented hum, pressing a kiss to your pulse.

“So… you’re not mad at me?” you ask again.

“No, I’m not mad. I was… worried. Suddenly you were pulling away from me with no explanation and no warning. I thought…” You gently pull on his hair to remove his face from your neck. He follows with no resistance, resting his chin on your chest as he looks up at you with such serious eyes, tinged with sleepiness and lingering concern. “I thought you didn’t trust me anymore.”

You frown at the admission. For over a week, he thought you were pulling away because you didn’t trust him… “I guess I didn’t help any, keeping my worries a secret…” He doesn’t agree, but you see a slight quirk in his brow. “I’m sorry, Sy. I didn’t… I just… This is so new. I was worried that if I was pregnant, you’d be upset or leave me or something.”

He scoffs. “I’m not so easily scared off, kitten.”

“And I know that now.” You lean forward and press a lingering kiss to his forehead. His eyes flutter shut, furrow in his brow relaxing. When you pull away, they open to look at you once again. “I promise, from now on, I won’t keep secrets like that from you anymore. You’ll be the first to know if I’m worried about anything.”

He grins slightly. “Thank you, sweetie. I promise to be just as honest with you.”

He lifts himself up just enough to capture your lips. Your mouths move together in a languid dance, sealing the deal you two have just made. It lasts several minutes. Neither of you really ever want it to end, but Sylus needs his sleep and you’re going to need all his love and care when your uterus decides to rain hellfire on you to make up for lost time. He pulls away slowly, trails light kisses down your jaw, and tucks himself back into your neck.

Everything feels so much more secure now. Despite all your fears, the relationship has grown stronger. And you know, you’re both going to be okay.

-

Bonus:

“Is the thought of having my kids that terrible?”

“You know that’s not why I was worried, you asshole.”

---

Tag List:

@the-golden-jhope @huen1ngk41 @armycaratlover @sylusfluffymeow @cheesemachine44 @nyx2021 @angel-jupiter @thelittlebutton @pikachuzhc @pomegranatepip @cordidy @an-ever-angry-bi @thejysemongko @deusfoundry

[damnfeelings09]

So long, London - Shadow version

“I saw in my mind fairy lights through the mist

I kept calm and carried the weight of the rift”

You were at home, the house you shared with Shadow. It was a beautiful and cozy place. If only you still enjoyed being there. At first, everything was fine; Shadow loved having you close, even though he didn't show it very enthusiastically, his small gestures of love towards you always made your heart melt. However, lately, he had been very distant. It had been weeks since he kissed you, and don’t even talk about intimacy. Shadow was always very busy with his work, going from mission to mission, trying to save the world, but that’s what heroes do, right? So why did you feel so… alone?

“Pulled him in tighter each time he was drifting away.”

Every chance you got, you made sure that when Shadow came through the door, there was food ready, a comfortable and cozy place, a home that covered all the bad from the outside. But it was no longer enough. Every time you tried to start a conversation, Shadow refused, claiming he was too tired, had other things to do, and didn’t want to be disturbed. He locked himself in his office and you didn’t see him for days. You didn’t even share the same bed anymore. You tried to deceive yourself, of course, The Ultimate Lifeform doesn’t need rest, you thought, as you curled up and wiped away the tears before going to sleep.

As the weeks passed, you became immune to his indifference. Shadow didn’t try anymore, and neither did you. Both of you only shared the table out of habit. Is this how it feels when love ends?

“I stopped trying to make him laugh

Stopped trying to drill the safe.”

Right now, you were in the room with a bag full of your belongings. You couldn’t take this indifference anymore. The suffering was killing you, and he couldn’t even notice. You quickly grabbed what you could from your drawers and put it inside. Near the door, there was a photo. In it, you and Shadow were sitting on the edge of a hill, happy, smiling. When did all that happiness evaporate? Where did all that happiness go?

“Thinkin, how much sad did you think I had

Did you think I had in me?

Oh, the tragedy ...”

You pushed the photograph to the floor, the frame shattering into a thousand pieces at the same time as your heart did. Was this really what you wanted? The pain in your chest was devastating. There seemed to be no way out of it; you just needed it to stop. How could you stop a heart that lost its only reason to beat?

“I stopped CPR, after all it's no use

The spirit was gone, we would never come to.”

It wasn’t too late. You could still go back, leave everything as it was, and Shadow would never know. The thought of staying made your heart hurt less, but for how long? How much longer could you bear it? Before the pain consumed you completely, what else were you willing to give?

“And you say I abandoned the ship

But I was going down with it

My white knuckles dying grip

Holding tight to your quiet resentment.”

As you picked up the glass shards, you remembered the last fight you had. It was early, Shadow had promised he would spend the day with you. You woke up so excited, happy that finally your boyfriend would have time for the two of you, but when you went downstairs, you found him about to leave through the door.

“Where are you going? I thought we were going to spend the day together,” you said, fiddling with your fingers, a nervous tic that always appeared when you were anxious.

“Something important came up” Shadow said, opening the door.

“I thought I was important” the anger consumed you from within. You had spoken without thinking. “At least pretend that you’re trying” You quickly covered your mouth, as if you could erase what you had just said. Shadow just sighed and gripped the doorknob tightly.

“You think I’m not trying?” he asked, anger building up on his voice as he turned to face you “I always push myself, I want to live my life, to enjoy it. Just like you do! But the death of my family is on me, and if I wasn’t created, none of it would’ve happened. It’s on me, I’m the one who has to pay for it. It’s all on me, so gods forgive me if I don’t have time for spoiled stupid little brats” he said, next thing you knew is that Shadow had disappeared using his chaos control, didn’t even bother to open the door, leaving you stranded. You stayed there at the edge of the stairs, trying to hold back your sobs, but as seconds passed, the weight became unbearable and it all came out. The pain was so deep that you couldn’t breathe, as if life itself was slipping from your hands. That day, when Shadow came back, he didn’t dare speak to you.

“My friends said it isn't right to be scared

Every day of a love affair

Every breath feels like rarest air

When you're not sure if he wants to be there.”

When you told Rouge and Amy about it, they were ready to hit him so hard that even his ancestors would feel the pain. But you didn’t let them, because you loved him, despite everything… you loved him. You still love him, right?

“Just how low did you think I'd go?

Before I'd self-implode

Before I'd have to go be free.”

“You swore that you loved me but where are the clues?” you whispered as you held the photograph in your hands, caressing it, wishing to go back to that day. You inhaled, filling your lungs with fresh air, allowing yourself to feel that pain, hidden, denied, buried among what you thought was love. For a moment, you let it take control of your body, each second more unbearable than the last. You couldn’t go on like this, you weren’t going to go on like this. Shadow wouldn’t take everything you were and turn it to ashes. Yes, you loved him, but you wouldn’t let him drag you into his misery. He had taken what once was a home and turned it into a cold, dark place, where light couldn’t reach you, at least not until you allowed it.

“And I'm just getting color back into my face

I'm just mad as hell cause I loved this place.”

You turned the photograph around, took the pen that was on the table near the front door, and wrote your farewell. You placed the paper back on the table with your keys, and as your heart agonized, you gave the final goodbye to your home, the only one you’ve ever known.

“Had a good run

A moment of warm sun

But I'm not the one

So long, Shadow” - Moon.

[honeypiehotchner]

The Gambit (Hotch x Fem!Reader) -- part five

I've officially gone back to work full time, so I might be a bit slower with writing, but hopefully not too much! I'm really excited keep posting this little story with all its twists and turns 🤭🤭 (That being said, the end of this one will prob make zero sense but TRUST ME, it will make sense later on)

Warnings: more of the case, more arguing, depictions of a panic attack, more vagueness about Reader's backstory 👀

Hotch watches you through the two-way glass as you speak to Richard Monroe once again. Rossi stands at his side, watching him watch you.

“She’s doing good,” Rossi comments. “Considering she just started.”

“She’s hiding something,” Hotch says quietly.

“Aren’t we all?” Rossi tries to make light of the moment, though it clearly doesn’t work. “What’s got you spooked?”

Hotch shakes his head slowly. “He recognized her somehow.”

“You’re sure he’s not toying with her?” Rossi asks. “He’s obviously attracted to her. He’s been flirting with her since she stepped in there.”

Hotch can’t explain why but that makes anger burn inside his chest even hotter.

“Relax,” Rossi says. 

“I am relaxed,” Hotch says too quickly, too defensively.

Rossi stares at him. “You’re on edge because she’s here again, and she’s on edge because you’re making her on edge.” He points between the two of you to emphasize his point.

Hotch isn’t ready to back down so easily, but he does ease slightly. 

He is on edge because you’re here again. He was on edge during that case all those years ago for a reason he couldn’t place — he still can’t place it. Not to mention, you seemed determined to push any and every button of his that you could find. And then some. He lost it, you lost it; it was a disaster. He was as happy to leave as you were to see him go. It’s barely been forty-eight hours since you’ve been back and it’s obvious the same pattern is repeating. Only this time, you’re both stuck with one another. For the indefinite future.

Because, at the end of the day, you’re good at your job, and Hotch is glad you’re here because you’re so good at what you do.

Hotch casts his eyes back to Richard. Is he flirting with you? Hotch can’t exactly tell, yet Rossi says he is. Or did Rossi only say it to get a rise out of Hotch? Not unlikely, knowing David. But it doesn’t make it sit any more right with Hotch.

But you’re getting somewhere with him. That’s important; that’s worth focusing on.

Richard admits that there is one person in particular who had it out for him more than the others. The problem is, that person is in prison. Or he’s supposed to be. Because Richard had him framed.

“Already on it,” Rossi says, putting his phone to his ear. He rattles the name off for Garcia and she goes to work.

Inside the room, you’ve leaned over on the table, your chin in your palm. Clearly sympathetic, trying to get more out of Richard.

Hotch sees it now, the way Richard is looking at you. And he doesn’t like it. He straightens, uncrossing his arms, ready to haul you out of there any second. 

+++

You’re getting good information out of him. You haven’t shown him the phone yet, but you will. You wanted him to warm up again first, and he has. You hope Hotch is eating his foot right now from how much he doubted you. And you hope Rossi is laughing at him.

You almost laugh yourself, but you stop, and just in time too, for Richard to throw another curveball your way.

“I think I know what it is,” he says after a moment of looking you up and down — which he won’t stop doing. “You’re all grown up.”

You’re not sure what he’s getting at. “What?”

“Why I didn’t realize it at first,” he continues. “You’re different from the pictures. Older.” He narrows his eyes. “But it’s definitely you.”

“We’re not talking about me,” you redirect him. “We’re talking about Lila.”

“We could talk about you,” he ignores your bait. “Where’d you grow up?”

“Where would he take Lila?” you plow through. “Think about your daughter, Richard. If he has her, where would he take her?”

“He probably just wanted me to turn myself in, the bastard,” Richard says. “Give him a few hours. He’ll let her go.”

“Will he?” you ask. He doesn’t seem at all upset that someone has his daughter. “What about what he’ll do to her? What he’s probably already done?”

He shrugs, then a sinister smirk crawls onto his face. “You were let go without a scratch, weren’t you?”

You can’t hide your reaction. It’s impossible to, when that— that is the last thing you expected him to know.

Before you can react — or realize the laughter you hear is coming from Richard — Hotch is throwing the door open and ordering you out.

“Out, Y/N. Now,” he repeats, glaring at Richard. Not you. Surprisingly.

You stand and leave, your feet working on their own. You pause just outside the room, pulse racing in your ears. The door shuts and Hotch is at your side, looking at you weirdly -- or is that sympathy in his eyes? You don’t know. And you can’t hear a damn thing, but you see Hotch’s mouth moving.

“Y/N,” he says. “I said are you okay?”

“Fine, don’t touch me,” you swat his hand away, not that it was anywhere near your arm. He’s just standing too close and looking at you differently and it’s setting you off all over again. “I’m gonna go get some air.”

“Okay.” He doesn’t try to stop you or lecture you, both of which are a feat for him. He should be proud of himself.

The jab is weak, even in your head. You’re too disoriented to even try something harsher.

You’re out the front doors of the precinct before you can blink, and pacing the sidewalk before you can breathe. 

You still can’t breathe, actually. You can’t at all. That’s a problem.

You lean against one of the BAU cars and try to inhale, but it’s like your lungs refuse to expand. They’re shrinking with every passing second and—

You’re sitting on the ground and someone is hovering over you— No, they’re kneeling. They’re saying your name, saying breathe, and you’re trying, but—

“Look at me, you need to breathe, come on,” Hotch takes your hand and presses it between both of his, trying to ground you. “With me, okay?” He takes in a deep breath and you nod, mirroring him, or trying to. You swear you’re trying.

It takes some time, but eventually your breathing evens out again. Reality comes crashing back to you — and Hotch too, apparently, because you both split apart from one another like you’re burning.

“Thanks,” you say, taking in another deep breath.

“You’re welcome,” Hotch replies. He doesn’t sound at all angry, but he won’t stop looking at you.

“No.”

“No?” he asks.

“No,” you repeat. “I’m not talking about it right now.”

“I wasn’t going to ask.”

You scoff. “Sure.”

He pauses. “We will have to talk about it.”

“For god’s sake,” you mutter, rubbing your forehead with a shaking hand. “Not now. And not until we’re back in Quantico. Okay?”

Surprising you, he nods. “Okay.” He waits another beat, still studying you. “Take your time. Come back in when you’re ready.”

You blink after him as he walks away, wondering if that really was Hotch that you just talked to. And not some nicer alien who replaced him.

+++

When you walk back into the precinct, the entire team tries — and promptly fails — to not give you pitying looks.

“I’m fine,” you bite out when Morgan opens his mouth.

He snaps it closed. “Cool. I was gonna ask if you wanted some coffee.”

No he wasn’t. But you let it slide. “Sure. Thank you.”

You settle down in the conference room next to Reid and JJ. Apparently Emily is trying to talk to Richard now with Hotch and Rossi watching, but you’re not sure how far she’ll get, if anything. He seems done being cooperative now. He got what he wanted. Which, for some reason, was to rattle you to your core.

You’re still just not sure how he even knows any of that. The world of serial killers can’t seriously be that small, can it? There’s no way he could’ve known your father and the man who kidnapped you when you were a kid. 

And how the fuck are you going to explain any of this to Hotch? He’s not going to let it go; you know he won’t. He will corner you the second you’re back in Quantico and demand answers. Even if you tell him to leave it alone, you know he’ll try to find out in other ways. Because he’s a stubborn jackass like that.

“Here,” Morgan says, handing over a steaming cup of coffee.

“Thanks,” you take it and offer a smile in return. He squeezes your shoulder as you take a sip.

It might be police precinct coffee, but it’s good enough, and it helps. That’s about all you can ask for at this point.

The four of you go over what you know so far once again. Garcia calls with no new leads from the most recent rabbit hole Hotch sent her down, and a promise to keep digging. 

“Thanks, Garcia,” you sigh, putting your head down on the table as the call disconnects. “What are we going to do?”

“I don’t know,” Morgan sighs with you. “I mean it’s been well over the window for—”

“Don’t,” you whisper, but loud enough that he stops. “Don’t say it, please.”

“Sorry, kiddo,” Morgan whispers back, resting a hand on your back.

You lift your head. “We’ll get her back.”

JJ and Reid share the same sad look. You hate it. You hate this.

You were gone for two days when you were a kid. You were found on the morning of the third day. There’s still time. Just because it’s been over twenty-four hours doesn’t mean she’s—

Hotch enters the conference room looking just as disturbed as he was when you left the interrogation room earlier. Rossi and Emily trail behind, both watching you closely.

“Morgan and Reid, I want you to go speak with Mrs. Monroe again. Reid, take a close look at Lila’s room, see if there’s anything at all that we’ve missed. Actually, JJ, go with them. Talk with Mrs. Monroe. Update her on everything.”

The three of them nod and begin gathering their things to head out.

“Prentiss, I want you and Rossi to go back to the area where Lila’s phone was found. Canvas the area, keep open eyes. A few officers are already there to help.”

That leaves you. With Hotch.

“Call me with whatever you find,” Hotch tells them. “No piece of information is too small or insignificant right now.”

“Roger that,” Prentiss nods.

One by one, the team files out of the room, and the door shuts behind them. You swallow thickly.

The conference room suddenly feels far too small.

Hotch pulls out one of the chairs next to you, sitting down. He leans his elbows onto the table, not looking at you. Earlier, he wouldn’t stop looking at you, and now he won’t even meet your eyes. You’re five seconds away from tossing this lukewarm coffee in his face.

“Richard mentioned—”

Make that two seconds. “Hotch,” you interrupt him immediately. “I said I’m not talking about this right now.”

“Richard mentioned,” he starts again, ignoring you, “something earlier that startled you.”

You scoff, pushing back from the table. You need to pace. You can’t sit if he’s going to start hounding you for answers now. Right now, of all times.

“We have a missing kid,” you gesture wildly. “In case you forgot.”

Hotch leans back. “We do. And her father seems to know more about your past than I do.”

“Well, you and I aren’t exactly friends.”

“Are you and Richard Monroe friends?”

“What? No!”

“Is he a family friend?”

You freeze. He’s getting too close to the truth already. “What the hell are you getting at?”

Hotch stands slowly, and you take a step back even though he hasn’t moved toward you at all. He notices the action and tilts his head ever so slightly. Fuck. You’re not going to make it out of this. Not when he reads you like a damn book. 

“When he said you were let go without a scratch,” Hotch presses. “What did he mean?”

You shake your head. “Nothing. He meant nothing by it.”

“Really?” Hotch continues. “If it was nothing, you wouldn’t be trying to flee this room.”

You blink and realize you’re much closer to the door than you thought, your hand reaching behind you for the door knob. You stop, dropping your hand.

“He mentioned your father,” Hotch says evenly. “But wouldn’t give us a name. Why?”

“Ask him,” you growl. “Ask him these questions since he knows me so well.”

“I’m asking you.”

“What?” you yell. “What the hell do you want from me, Hotch?” There are tears pricking your eyes and you hate it. You hate him. “Now is not the time to go digging through my past just because you have it out for me. I get it, okay? I get that I am the last person on this planet that you wanted to join your team. Believe me, you are the last person I wanted to be working under. But these are the cards we were dealt, alright? So I’d appreciate it if you’d just for once in your sorry, stubborn little life show me some goddamn mercy and leave this alone.”

A tear has escaped that you wipe away quickly, pissed that you let it fall in the first place.

Whatever expression he wears, you can’t read it. “If you’re connected to this case, I need to know. If there’s anything—”

“I would’ve fucking told you already,” you hiss, ready to punch him square on the nose. “I told you to drop it. I can’t do this right now.”

His phone rings, saving him from attempting to say anything else that you might want to deck him for. Thankfully, Hotch answers it. 

“Hotchner. Hey Rossi,” he watches you as he talks. And he freezes. “What? Where? How?”

“What happened?” You surge forward, trying to get closer to listen to the call.

Hotch pulls his phone away from his ear and puts it on speaker. Rossi’s voice rushes through.

“An ambulance is taking her to the hospital, but she seems alright,” Rossi says. “We’re going with her.”

“Good, don’t let her leave your sight,” Hotch says. “Are the police canvassing the area?”

“Doing everything they can to look for him.”

“Good. We’re coming to join them.”

You look at Hotch wildly, not exactly excited for sitting in a car with him for hours searching the area for who kidnapped Lila. Not to mention, you seem to be the only one who knows damn well that whoever it was is long gone by now. There’s no way he’s sticking around, or that he’d be dumb enough to turn himself in like Richard.

“We’re not gonna find him,” you mutter.

Both Hotch and Rossi stop talking. “What?” Hotch asks.

“We’re not going to find him,” you repeat. “He’s long gone.”

Both men are quiet. You and Hotch stare at each other. He knows it, too. He knows it’s the truth.

But still, you canvas the area. You sit in the passenger seat as Hotch drives, less reckless than usual. You know it’s no use. You also understand the feeling of guilt that would’ve come if you didn’t at least try.

+++

Lila is sitting up in the hospital bed looking perfectly healthy and intact when you arrive with Hotch. Mrs. Monroe wraps you in a tight hug the second she sees you.

“Thank you,” she says. “For bringing my baby back to me.”

You politely thank her, telling her the entire team helped. You offer a smile to Lila who returns it with a little nod.

You ask some questions, but truthfully, Lila is okay. Shaken up, but she says nothing bad happened. You’re not sure if she’s blocking it out and will one day remember, but all that seems to matter is that she’s back with her mom, and the two appear to be on better terms. 

Unsurprisingly, the man who had Lila didn’t tell her his name. He let her see his face, though, which is odd. Bold of him. Hotch makes sure the police know to get a sketch artist to see Lila for a full picture. 

Hotch asks as pointed behavior questions as he can, but again, Lila says it was fine. He was irritated, grumpy. Seemed to be waiting on something, but didn’t say what. She was in a house not far from here, in the basement. The police have already swarmed it, but it’s empty, of course. They’re collecting evidence, but Hotch isn’t sure what they’ll find, if anything.

Richard Monroe will keep his deal of life in prison, not the death penalty, if he continues to cooperate. The police seem to hope that with the sketch and Lila’s descriptions, Richard might recognize the guy. Or maybe his face will pop up in the FBI’s database, and Richard can answer questions about him. Until any of that happens, though, Richard remains in custody. And still wants to see his daughter.

You’re not sure if Mrs. Monroe will allow it. Your mom didn’t. 

You still don’t know if you wish she would’ve or not. Some days you’re glad she didn’t. Others, like today, you wish she had. There are so many questions you don’t have answers to. So many that you know you’ll never get them all.

[admirationandromantics]

O.M.G.

I FOUND THIS PROFILE A COUPLE DAYS AGO I AM IN SHOCK YOUR WRITING IS AMAZING. back to the request, how about a submissive Josh?...where he moans and begs to be fucked and looks at you with his puppy eyes? omg that would be perfect♡

p.s.: thank you so much for your work! it's really fantastic:)

You're too sweet!!! I can definitely see him just sitting on his knees, begging you to fuck his brains out, yes. I guess many see him as kinda dominant, but I personally think he’s a switch. Anyways, enjoy some sub Josh headcanons! 

Submissive Josh

You’ve been teasing him all day, knowing that he’s been hot and bothered, not having had a chance to do something about it. You arrive inside, and he immediately starts kissing you, hoping it’ll lead somewhere. You kiss him back, but pull away quickly to take off your coat and outerwear. Taking a long time so he just stands there like a lost puppy, waiting for you to give him attention again. 

“Something wrong, Josh?” “Fucking hell, I’ve waited all day, please, just please” “A whiny mess, are you?” 

You sit him down on the sofa, placing yourself on top, straddling him. His hands wander, of course, but you don’t mind. He’s allowed to this time. While kissing, you feel him twitch underneath you, hips starting to grind against you, begging for attention. 

“Josh… You’re not gonna get anything if you keep this up” He whimpers in reply, stopping himself from getting off on you. Your hand goes to the back of his head, grabbing his hair and pulling it back. He looks up, making you lock eyes with this adorable messy man. They’re glossy and desperate, wide-eyed like a puppy, begging you for satisfaction. 

“You want me to do something?” “Yes” he whimpers, hands going up your waist. You cup his bulge, the small touch making him let out a desperate moan for more. “Tell me how much you want it” “So, so much. I need you so bad” 

With a satisfied answer, you get off his lap, unbuttoning his pants painfully slow as he starts regulating his breathing. You drag his pants and boxers down, his dick popping out throbbing and red. You take hold of him, pumping a few times slowly, causing his head to fall back on the cushions as he moans your name. 

However, you’re not done teasing him, and your tongue makes its way to his shaft, small licks all over, especially on his tip. His hips bulge automatically, wanting you to take him fully. “Can you” “Use your words” “Please suck me off, get me off, right now, please” 

He looks down, breathing heavily, chest heaving and eyes pleading. How can you say no to that? Finally, you fully take him, letting him into your mouth and filling as far as you can go, hand still squeezing his shaft and other one massaging his balls. You suck your chins in, making sure not to hurt him with your teeth. 

He pleads for you to go faster, repressing the urge to hump his hips into you, grabbing your hair and forcing your head down on him. You sense his tension, steadying yourself on his thighs as you up your speed, making him finish not long after. It had been a long day teasing him after all, and you’re surprised he even lasted this long based on it. 

You take it, showing him your tongue filled with his liquid, and swallowing it right after. He looks at you in awe as you take your place on his lap again, kissing him deeply and letting him taste himself.

[takes1]

i’ve never put in a request before but i read literally all of your haikyuu stuff and i was wondering if you could do something like your asahi x feral!reader but for tsukishima? or even just more asahi or tsukishima stuff would also be cool

tsukki using toys on feral!reader

i love you. here's your present pookie <3

warnings. heavy nsfw, minors DNI

details. fem!reader / rough sex / switchy, mostly dominant!tsukki / mutual masturbation / exhibitionism / voyeurism / use of vibrator / use of dildo / mutual crushing / dirty talk / tsukki loves to tease / flirty!tsukki / friend sex / mostly clothed sex / light choking / 3.3k words

links. my masterlist. more haikyuu. my ao3

Even the way he slid his tie off made you want to drop to your knees and beg him to fuck.

Tsukishima was an alright buddy, but you knew he'd make a much better lover. Maybe it was your delusion, built-up by years of crushing on your closest friend, but there was something about being a mean guy's favorite got you going.

More specifically: soaked, swimming in your raunchy imagination, even investing in some toys to help with the fantasy of it all, most nights.

He had no clue. You were always careful not to look at him more than you had to, to never speak to him too often. It was only thanks to being in the same class that he came over to study, and you got the chance to callous your crush-masking and Calculus III at the same unfortunate time. So fun.

"You study at all yet?" He stretched with a yawn, sore and tired from practice.

"A little," You were usually curt with him when it was just you two.

Today, Yamaguchi opted to work on his serves after practice with his mentor, instead of studying with you two. You nearly cancelled this, but you needed to go over a few concepts with somebody before the quiz tomorrow morning.

Yamaguchi was the best person to bounce off of, so the three of you had better, friendlier chemistry than just you and Tsukishima. You didn't have to fake it as much.

You set your laptop up on your desk and stood, bent at the hips to open up your class materials and take some books out of your bag.

"I didn't have time today," A weight was on the side of your hip, making you stifle a flinch. It was only the side of his leg, from the way he leaned back onto your desk right next to you, "I had to practice at lunch, too."

Another yawn.

They had been busier, lately. Both of them couldn't meet as regularly because they had extra, informal practices.

"Big match coming up?" You clicked to the website and took the soonest opportunity to get away.

You sat down in your chair and kept your eyes on the monitor. You couldn't handle his proximity. You were already wet just from the ride over, having to sit thigh-to-thigh with him on the train. It would be impossible to focus if he kept this shit up.

"Kinda."

The conversation died there. Neither of you tried too hard to keep any discussion alive without Yamaguchi.

He started getting his materials together and paused, then took another few minutes to root around. He glanced around your desk and didn't find what he was looking for.

"You got a pen I could borrow?"

You half-hummed, in the middle of copying down an equation from the screen to your paper.

"Uhh- yeah, yeah. Bedside table. Should be next to the uhhh, the lamp."

Tsukishima watched you for a moment longer, suspicious, but stretched again and pushed himself up to find the pen. To his delight, that was not what he found, when he tried looking through the drawers instead of limiting his search to the surface.

A quick glance back to you- still focused on anything but him, to a level he had grown to understand as simply overcompensation, and he knew he was clear to let his curiosity roam.

"Interesting."

"Wha'?" You mumbled, lazy against your knuckles, a dry, slow blink at your monitor filled with equations.

Long, slim fingers danced over the pink, silicone dildo in the back of your drawer. His grin grew to serious proportions when he found its smaller, surely nosier friend. He could have guessed you were a little freak, but loved this confirmation.

In your attempt to give your retinas a break, you found a spare pen behind one of your notebooks.

"Oh-, hey, I found it," You sighed.

You turned in your swivel chair to face him and see what the delay was about. A flash of pink in his hand made your blood run cold.

"Tsukki!"

You almost tripped scrambling out of your chair, the sound of your call a short and wheezy one, so he had plenty of warning before you were upon him, plastered to his front just like he wanted.

"Put that down!"

His hand flew high into the air, at a height you could never hope to reach- it angered you so quickly, and you felt your face getting hot. That tall bastard utilized his abnormal wingspan at the worst of times.

Frantic fingers clawed his sweater down, but there was no chance you could pull his entire arm down far enough.

From here, you realized he was also holding your smaller vibrator in the same hand. That just wasn't possible without freakishly large proportions.

You screamed, "You're such a fucking weirdo! Put it back!!"

Tsukishima pouted at you, making you think you might have gotten through to him, but like most of his expressions, it was sarcastic.

"Ooooh... I'm the weirdo?"

That one, especially coupled with the eye roll, pissed you off. It wasn't your fault that he was incapable of sexual attraction. You were over-active, sure, and maybe you rivalled the sex drive of a man, but that was your personal business. Up until now, it was stored safe and secret.

"Fuck you!"

You shoved him. And he actually fell back. He wasn't very heavy.

When he hit your mattress, it was a race to recapture your toys that had gotten knocked out of his hand before you could get to them.

You scrapped to get on top of him, weigh him down, and dodged his elbow to reach his wrist-- it was too late. He gripped the thing and you could only then try to pry his hand open.

"Ah-ah-ah," His smirk was so mean, how he found you, in the midst of all your panic, as cute as a button, "What's the magic word?"

"You're never coming over again, you dick," You muttered, fuming, when his fingers just wouldn't be opened.

Tsukishima didn't do much to keep his hand away from you. You held his forearm against your chest because you the most leverage there.

His unrestricted laugh was pretty; scratchy and elevated, watching you try and try again to take your belongings back from him.

Fatigue was getting in the way of your efforts. When he pulled his hand back, over his head, you got knocked off balance and caught yourself, looking down at him.

It distracted you for a moment.

There was something in his eyes you hadn't noticed before, in all your attempts to retrieve your precious toys.

"A little small..." He furrowed his brow, a purse on his lips as he angled it in the light behind you, "Don't you think?"

The hand against your other side made you pause. His thumb, starting to rub you through your uniform, made you shudder.

Why was everything so slow, all of a sudden? You could hear your elevated heart rate, acutely aware of how heavy your breathing had gotten. Tsukishima seemed as though he had always been here, in this state, because he looked you over at a glacial pace.

"Oh- god," You shivered at the realization you were sitting on him, in your skirt.

What had been such a sure reality of never getting off to him again, all at once, became the very reason to do so.

When you looked like you were gearing up to move off of him, smaller, and meeker in spirit, he spoke up through your habitual doubts.

"Stay-," His hand was firm now, gently pushing your weight onto himself, "Stay here."

Hearing something genuine come out of Tsukishima's mouth was so rare that you thought he was joking. You kept trying to rise off of him.

"Hey," He chuckled, but his smile was fleeting.

He set your toys down and used both hands to weigh you down by your thighs. Your uncomfortable expression was mostly confusion.

"Why would I do that?"

You were torn between wanting to take your stuff back and get far away, and the animalistic urge to stay and entertain whatever this was.

His scoff, the roll of his eyes, made your thighs flex, like it always did. This time, he could feel it. But it was confirmation he didn't need, at this point.

"Don't act like you're not into me."

The heaviness of being caught made you sink. It didn't appeal to you to find out why he knew. He was intelligent, after all, and made it his job to notice small things.

Now that it was out in the open, you had no need to lie. A lot less to worry about, too.

Tsukishima smirked at your tiny, defeated sigh.

You glanced to the toys, free for you to take and hide again, but found no desire to do so. You took a good, thorough feel of that soft sweater under your hands. It turned into pushing up under his shirt, and adjusting closer down, open for a kiss, if he felt so inclined.

He sucked in a breath through his nose, restraining himself only once, at that little, dirty roll you did against his cock.

A slow, unsure kiss was soon a rushed and racy battle for power.

Any drop of validation you gave him, whether in sound or feel, was drowned in a charged kind of yearning for more; More of that noise, more of your mouth, more of your body under his starving grasp.

His fingers spread over the plush of your ass, quickly between you and your underwear, spreading you from the back with so much vigor that you whined at all the intensity.

"Mm- yeahh, I know you like that shit," He nestled his kisses against the side of your face, rough and smiley.

You gasped, sharp, at his words and his nails digging lines into your skin.

"Oh my god," You moaned, eyes shutting at how his attention seemed to wrack through you like some sick wave.

In your sudden inability to kiss him back, he ripped open your uniform blouse and sucked hasty bites into your chest.

Finally. He made you feel like you could take anything.

When he sat up, you came with him, and rejoiced in the way he shoved you onto your back, all out of breath and turned on, hovering over you like you were his. That proud expression on your face deserved a few more kisses, he decided.

They were still so rough and challenging to keep up with- especially when you felt him sliding your panties off.

"M-mn," You chased after his lips for a second, not wanting him to pull away so quick.

"I want you to use this," He muttered, and handed you your vibrator- he was keeping it in his pocket, so it didn't get lost in the sheets (as it often liked to).

The sound of that was enough to make you giggle, instantly compliant. But it made you curious.

"Well- what will you do?"

Tentative, you held it without moving- but his hands guided it right where it needed to be. He smirked at your gasps, your thighs flexing hard against him.

"I'll watch," His voice was proceeded by the clang of his belt, zipping out of his belt loops and clattering onto the floor.

Your drunken eyes widened at the monster he pulled out. Yeah, it did make your dildo look small. But it looked natural in his big hand, starting to stroke himself at the view of you, under him.

There was no chance to be coy- he was doing the same thing, even the one to suggest it all. You gave a dreamy sigh, content at the chance to be his cam girl.

His head tilted, eyes lowered to watch your pussy, getting juicier by the minute- so he was a sick son of a bitch, too.

Ever the one to tease, he muttered, "How often d'you think about me?"

That made you warm. You didn't want to say it right away, because even you knew it was getting to be an addiction. It was hard not working one out every night when he was making you horny any time you spoke in class.

"Every day..." You mumbled, eyes still locked on the way he stroked himself, curious to try it for yourself.

He was busy imagining how often you had probably both been masturbating at the same time, with no idea. His hands pushed your thighs up- a nasty, preoccupied gaze on just the way it puffed up your pussy. God, he needed to feel you from the inside.

"Me, too," He admitted. Though it was a dirty thing to say, he said it so flat, in his own little way, as he searched for that dildo. He left out the fact that he jerked off multiple times a day.

"You wanna get that wet for me?"

You hummed, sweet and cute, at the opportunity in front of your face.

Getting it nice and slick in your mouth was just a way to torture him a little more, let him in on what he had been missing- you sucked the thing off a little longer than necessary.

His jaw flexed at the sight, his eyes narrow, intense, just how you liked them.

You grinned as he took it back and cleaned the string of spit from your lip. He sucked it off of his finger like cotton candy.

Tsukishima took the liberty of filling you up with it- watching every little twitch and savoring every whine with so much concentration.

The look of it had him pumping himself a little faster, a little dumb at the sight of you stuffed, already, and dripping onto your sheets. You had been getting off to him every night, then treating him like the dirt under your shoe, for three years?

"I would've been fuckin' you so good- mmnh- freshman year, if you had just been honest with me."

His words made you lose your breath, gasping at the thought of how much you could've helped yourself out, if only things had been different. But, that fixation on his face, all the anticipation leading up to now; you wouldn't have traded it for the world.

You bit your lip at how slow and patient he was, stretching you out all for himself.

"D'you want me to cum?" You asked, tone purposefully candied for him.

There was no hesitation. He looked a little staggered. It was adorable, how badly he wanted to see it happen.

"Fuck, yes."

It took you more effort to hold out, talk, and edge, than it did to give him a show.

You just fell into what you usually did when you got home from classes- this time, with little sounds falling from your lips, and your thighs up the way he liked so much.

The way his eyes clouded over, how he started to relax in the shoulders, and grew breathier at your performance stroked your ego on a deeper level.

"Ah-h!"

His breath stalled at the sudden tension, the gasp on your lips. He was watching you, completely captivated, at your rigid brow and crescendoing sounds.

"Mnn-H-Aahh!" You wished he would touch you, so bad, but it didn't happen. He was too busy studying you.

"Damn," He sighed.

He was taken by the way you came completely undone for him- it made his face soften, made him want to kiss you through it, but he loved watching from right here. It was unbelievably hot.

Though he pulled out that pink obstruction to his real plan, he didn't let you move your vibrator away. He grinned at your reaction, as you were still coming down.

You squirmed at the discomfort, a little panic in your eyes, all to find him enjoying it more.

"A-ahh-! Tsukki--,"

"Ohh- sorry, you thought you were getting a break?" His voice was so sweet, so amused.

He lined himself up with you, sure to lube up in all that extra slickness. It was so deranged and bold that it made you relax, watching in quiet, but whiny captivation, despite needing more time.

"Fuuck," He sighed, a huffy laugh on his lips at how perfect you took him, "God- mmnh-!"

It shouldn't have surprised you, but he wasn't slow, and he wasn't gentle. You supposed you weren't, either. You were both one in the same, too excited and caught up in the rare chance to let loose with a likeminded pervert.

The intensity in his twitchy brow gave way to a narrowed focus on your face.

"Feels so good, (Y/n)."

"Mmnh- call me anything but my- na-me," You sighed, a clip at the end of your phrase as he started using you like his own toy, fast.

He stretched you so good- nothing like your pitiful replacement for him. You couldn't believe he was packing so much, for such a skinny guy.

Though you half-expected him to keep using your name as a means to tease you; he smirked, instead.

"You can- ahh, be my dirty little slut, then-,"

You did say 'anything.' And, to your pleasant surprise, you didn't hate that as much as you thought you would. You still laughed at him, though, because he deserved it. He grinned, unable to take it too seriously, too.

Your recovery period was laughably short. The newness of his cock, the hungry look in his mean face over you, his attitude completely transformed by your body, had you short of breath all over again, wanting more, taking him better with less discomfort.

You welcomed his intensity. This time, all of it, finally wasn't fabricated in your head.

It began to spiral, tightening like a spring in your tummy, into the fundamental need to be railed to another orgasm.

"Harder- please," Your begging couldn't go unrewarded.

It was like he was waiting for confirmation to fuck you as hard as he wanted-- his hand naturally squeezed around your throat, a struggle playing out in his eyes, now, at the way you gripped his arm to keep it there.

He got raspy, breathy, sweat rolling down the side of his face.

Your volume was intense- elation and indulgence all at your liberty, since you were the only people home. Your family trusted Tsukishima, and you were only just now learning that they probably shouldn't.

"F-uck!"

The pretty shock taking your face, coupled with the spasm of your cunt as you actually came twice was all too much for a guy as nasty as him.

That shit was too raw- your gasps, wavering cries, too good for his filthy mind. He was gonna throw all of his porn away as soon as he got home. Next time he needed to cum, he'd take the train here.

He pulled out and absolutely ruined that cute uniform. You were twitchy, panting at all the overstimulation, drenched in sweat, and unable to care right now. He pried his own fingers, slowly, from your neck and lowered to kiss you. It was slower, now, as you both caught your breath.

Coming down with somebody wasn't nearly as sobering as coming down by yourself.

His forehead was slippery against yours, "I'll pay for- ah, your uniform, if I need to."

It was a sweet gesture. You pressed a kiss against his cheek with a laugh, "Just throw it all in the washer."

"Hm," He smirked, an idea taking form behind his eyes as you were carefully stripped of your clothes.

"Let's go again. One more time."

☆VIP☆

@integers @paradoxicalwritings @yuchacco

my masterlist. more haikyuu

[redux-iterum]

Charred Legacy: Chapter Forty

(AO3 counterpart here.)

Whitecloud, taking after his predecessor, wasted no time. The Clan was back to work and hunting as much and as safely as possible. Apprentices (except for Aspenpaw, of course, by her own will) were permitted to travel in the southern part of the territory, so long as they were accompanied by a warrior. The apprentices were quite happy about this—though, try as they might, they couldn’t encourage Brightpaw to leave camp for anything more than making dirt. Any reports on potential dog-scents sent shivers down the marred molly’s body and she would shut down into silence. Frostfur stayed close to her, watching the entrance of camp like a dog was about to burst through and slaughter them all.

But it seemed the dogs were content with their carnage, at least for now; the one Fireheart had encountered was not seen again, its scent fading away with the piling snow. No massive pawprints littered the ground, no barks in the daylight… perhaps they had returned to the Houses, or wandered into another territory. Whatever the case was, everyone hoped, they would stay away as long as possible, if not forever.

Fireheart was, oddly, asked quite frequently about this by Whitecloud. He and Dustpelt, when not training their apprentices, were kept busy by leading patrols or by helping organize sessions for the apprentices to practice outside of camp without being in danger. Fireheart wasn’t bothered by it, but he was a bit curious about the very keen way Whitecloud looked at him and Dustpelt.

Dustpelt was fortunately in his element—he’d have answers before Fireheart could digest the questions, and went to work as soon as Whitecloud dismissed him. But in his downtime, Fireheart noticed his steps becoming more jittery, his tail tapping the ground where he sat as he chewed air. It was a very strange switch, and Fireheart didn’t know what to do with it or how to help.

One night, before they had even eaten breakfast, Whitecloud called the toms to him again, sitting by the elders’ den while One-eye and Halftail dozed inside the fallen log.

The deputy blinked at them in greeting. “Fireheart, how did the patrol you ordered last night find the Sycamore’s part of the territory?”

“Oh– right.” Fireheart straightened up, having the faint sense of being quizzed. “Mousefur said that they couldn’t find traces of anything over there. No dog, but no prey either. They stayed out as long as they felt safe, so they came in late.” He paused, blinking himself. “...I thought I told you that last night?”

“You did,” Whitecloud said. “But I wanted Dustpelt to hear it, too.” He turned to the brown tabby now. “You approached me earlier with questions about tonight’s patrols. What do you think about that news?”

Dustpelt cleared his throat, nodding curtly. “I hesitate to be overly optimistic, but we’ve gone quite a while without a new scent in the north. I think that we can potentially send a scouting patrol towards the Houses and check to see if they’ve made the neighborhood their home.”

“And if we don’t scent them there?” Whitecloud looked at Fireheart.

Fireheart tilted his head thoughtfully. “Then the other options are that they’re in another Clan’s territory. I don’t think they’ll head into the Aulmir, not with so many humans there.” He sighed. “I thought humans would help us here, but I guess the dogs are just as wary as we are.”

“Unfortunately,” Whitecloud agreed. “Then what do you two think our next move should be?”

Fireheart hummed, thinking.

Dustpelt was the first to speak. “I think our next move is to keep hunting where we can, but we should keep our patrols the same size and keep apprentices close to camp until we can confirm the dogs are gone for good.”

“Yeah…” Fireheart looked at Dustpelt. “Having them train in the south has been fine for now, but I think you’re right. We should train them closer to home if we can help it—at least, if we have even a hint of the dogs coming back. We pushed our luck too hard before, and, well… that cost us a lot.”

Dustpelt’s eyes darkened, but he simply nodded again.

Fireheart added to Whitecloud, “Not to mention that I think Brightpaw will feel better if her brothers and friends are around her to keep her company. She needs to have some sense of safety if we want her to recover from her trauma.”

Whitecloud gave him a contemplative look. “Is that a new idea?”

“Well, I just noticed she’s a little more relaxed when Cloudpaw or Cinderpaw are around to eat with her and tell her about their night.”

“That is true.”

“If she’s watching them train, she might want to get back to it herself.” Fireheart’s eyes flicked down to the ground unhappily. “I can see she’s feeling powerless to the dangers of the world outside of here. She flinches if anyone brings up something like poisonous plants or a stray owl they saw overhead.”

Dustpelt regarded him with surprise. “I never noticed that.”

“I’m glad you did, Fireheart,” Whitecloud said, eyes glittering. “It’s important to have an eye on all of your Clan, not just your closest friends.”

There was that keen look again. More importantly, there was apprehension on Duspelt’s face. The way he glanced at Fireheart was… weirdly afraid? About what?

“I have another question for you two,” Whitecloud said, both younger toms jolting and refocusing on him. “What should we do about border patrols? We haven’t had any in a long time, and our scents are sure to have faded by now.”

“Er…” Fireheart hesitated, wondering if Whitecloud would accept his thoughts. “I don’t think that really matters at this point.”

Dustpelt gave him a baffled look, but Whitecloud leaned forward a little in interest. “Why not? Shouldn’t we make sure everyone knows where our borders are?”

“If they don’t know by now, then there’s no helping them,” Fireheart said with a twitch of his whiskers. “The other Clans aren’t idiots, sir. They know the forest is ours. We already have the land split up by the river, and it’s clear where the treeline stops. ShadowClan has no reason to come over here, and the kittypets and loners are scared to even sniff a fern sticking out over the border.” He stood a little taller, more confident at the piqued curiosity on Dustpelt’s face. “Besides that, we shouldn’t risk wandering all around the entire territory, where a patrol could be found by the dogs, just to mark a bush or two. And wouldn’t that give the dogs a scent to go on? Or at the very least, something that tells them we’re still here and can be killed.”

Whitecloud and Dustpelt watched him in an almost impressed manner. Fireheart briefly fought the urge to look down sheepishly and just met Whitecloud’s eyes.

“You’re making more sense than I anticipated with that idea,” Dustpelt said, and now to Whitecloud, “At the very most, a hunting patrol could check on the border if their trail leads them there, but Fireheart’s right. We can probably do without testing our luck, especially when the dogs might be close by.”

Whitecloud slowly nodded, his voice carrying the faintest purr. “Very good. I’ll concede to that; hunting patrols only for now, and we’ll see how that goes. Why don’t you two get something to eat? I’ll get some patrols going, and I’d like you to train your apprentices later.” His eyes crinkled. “In camp, if that’s better.”

“Yes, sir,” the young toms said together, both dipping their heads respectfully.

Whitecloud dismissed them with a tail-wave before turning and walking away, heading over to Willowpelt. Fireheart shook out his pelt, flinging some antsy energy off of him like water droplets, and trotted for the prey-pile, dimly aware of the now-awake One-eye and Halftail peering at him and Dustpelt.

The prey-pile was thankfully larger than normal, and Fireheart caught sight of a mole. Thin though it was, he scooped it up and turned around to eat with Greystripe and Ravenwing, only to see an unsettled Dustpelt right behind him.

“Mind if I eat with you?” he asked, voice low.

“Uh…” Fireheart blinked. “No, that’s fine.”

Dustpelt moved past him, picked up a rat, and gestured with a tilt of the head for Fireheart to follow him. They made their way over to the lonesome corner of camp, across from a curious Ravenwing and Greystripe, and crouched down. Fireheart settled his mole between his paws and was about to take a bite when his eye caught sight of Dustpelt rolling his rat forward and backward in front of him, his jaw clenched.

Fireheart kept his voice muted. “Are you okay?”

Dustpelt didn’t answer at first, rolling a few more times, before turning his head with lizard-like quickness, his eyes wide and stressed. “Can I tell you something?”

Fireheart tilted his head. “Of course.”

“And you won’t repeat it to Whitecloud?”

Fireheart sensed trouble. “Y…yeah, of course. What’s…?”

Dustpelt jerkily glanced around, like he was expecting Whitecloud to be standing right over them, then leaned in towards Fireheart’s head and whispered, “I don’t really want to be leader.”

Fireheart squinted a bit, confused.

“I know what Whitecloud’s doing.” Dustpelt glanced in the direction of the tom in question, now talking to a group of cats that were assumedly a patrol. “He’s testing us to see which one he wants to make his deputy.”

Fireheart almost gasped and leaned closer, eyes wide. “You think so?”

“I know so,” Dustpelt whispered. “That’s why he’s been talking to us so much and having us organize patrols. He probably didn’t even intend to have border patrols, since he’s only been giving out hunting ones; that was just a test to see how we’d respond.” His tail tapped nervously on the ground, ever-so-slightly bristling. “He needs a young deputy who works hard and will be around for a long time after he’s gone. We’re his best options, so he’s been focusing on us.”

It took a long moment for the words’ implications to sink into Fireheart’s mind. When they did, he jolted and hissed frantically, “Wait, he thinks I’m an option? How does he—”

Dustpelt’s own tense air dissipated for a moment for him to give the shorter warrior a deadpan look. “Fireheart, you’ve been taking on deputy tasks since Bluestar started losing her mind, and everyone but Darkstripe listens to you. Of course you’re an option.”

Fireheart fumbled out several attempts at an argument or denial before giving up and staring at the ground. Shock seemed to have paralyzed his tongue.

“The only problem is that we haven’t finished training our first apprentices,” Dustpelt went on, musing to the ground as well. “I know there’s a loophole in the law that lets a young cat into the deputy rank so long as they’re on the path to successfully raising an apprentice, though I don’t remember exactly where. Thornpaw and Cloudpaw are both doing really well—yeah, I’ve seen him, Fireheart, don’t give me that look—so as far as Whitecloud’s concerned, they’re already warriors.”

Fireheart finally found his voice. “But… but I’m not even two years old, and you’re hardly older.”

“That’s the gamble.” Dustpelt looked up at him, almost relieved at the distress that must be on Fireheart’s face. “We haven’t been tested by life yet. Not in the way a senior warrior has. We’ve got a lot of capacity to make mistakes, just because we’re so inexperienced.” Another less-than-subtle glance at Whitecloud. “But on the other paw, we’re young enough for Whitecloud to be confident ThunderClan will have a leader and stability for a long time after he’s gone. He’s not all that young, you know—he needs someone who won’t die so quickly after him. Or before him.”

Fireheart didn’t say anything. He couldn’t find anything to say. His head was whirling with disbelief, shock, and a healthy dose of fear.

Dustpelt dropped his voice even lower. “I mean… look, I want to serve my Clan however I can. I’ll do anything for ThunderClan, and I know you will too. But… stars, the idea of having to stand on the boulder at Fourtrees, or lead a battle, or– or make such huge decisions…” He shivered. “I don’t think I can do that. I really don’t.”

This, at least, Fireheart could respond to. “You’re a lot more capable than you think, Dustpelt. Anyone could see that, even if you don’t.”

Dustpelt weakly attempted a chuff. “Well, thanks, I guess, but still. I’d rather just be a normal warrior who can lead a patrol and have that be the end of it.” He peeked at Fireheart, apprehensive. “And it looks like you’re not very eager to take on the role either.”

Fireheart stared down at his mole, giving himself a long moment to absorb and address his thoughts, which were mostly screamed questions about how in the world Whitecloud saw anything in him that could put him in such an important rank.

“I feel about the same as you,” he said at last, looking back up at Dustpelt. “I can’t imagine becoming leader—not me being who I am. I’m a kittypet from the Houses, and, well… I can’t see everyone following me, when they have much better options.”

“That’s the thing,” Dustpelt said. “We are the better options. Can you imagine Teaselfoot or Mousefur being leader? Or even Willowpelt?”

“…Fair point.” Fireheart watched Whitecloud pad away out of camp. “I guess… if I had to, I’d do it. I’d like to take care of my Clanmates however I can.” He shuddered, a bit more jokingly than sincerely. “But having me on the boulder next to Rookstar and Blackstar… they’d all be staring at me, thinking ‘What is this runt doing in ThunderClan’s spot?’.”

Dustpelt did chuff a bit more humorously at that. “Crookedstar would make so many jokes.”

“Which is why you’re the better choice.” Fireheart tapped his side with his tail. “At least then, ThunderClan would be taken seriously.”

“Yeah, right up until I stutter and stumble over my words.”

“You haven’t stumbled over a word in your life.”

“And you haven’t disobeyed the code or your superiors a single time, then?”

Fireheart sniffed. “Hey, I just do what’s right. It’s not my fault if someone disagrees with me.” Realization hit him and he shook his head. “Honestly, that’ll probably get me disqualified. I’ve broken and helped break a lot of Clan rules.”

Dustpelt rolled his eyes, his anxiety gone. “Must be why everyone’s telling Whitecloud, ‘You’re making a mistake, you should exile Fireheart right now for not letting Lionface scare off elders’.”

“That was—”

“I’m joking, ant.” Dustpelt gave him an amused look. “It seems like pretty much every time you’ve broken a rule, it works out in your favor. Did you even get in trouble for disobeying Lionface?”

Fireheart shook his head. “Or for hunting for RiverClan—er, honestly, before we had to. I mean, that was Greystripe’s idea, but I went along with it.”

“I knew it,” Dustpelt hissed to himself, slapping the ground with a paw. “I knew there was no way Lionface and Bluestar would’ve ever given them food on their own.”

Fireheart stared at him. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I’m not going to question our leader and deputy!” Dustpelt’s whisper got a bit louder while still fighting to stay quiet. “Sandstorm said you must’ve come up with the idea yourself, because that’s such a ‘you’ thing to do. But Greystripe did it first?”

“He felt bad for his friends,” Fireheart admitted. “He explained himself to me and Ravenwing, and I thought it was a good idea, so I helped.”

“No wonder RiverClan likes you so much.” Dustpelt shook his head in a humorously-disappointed way. “Well, if you become leader, maybe they won’t fight for Sunningrocks anymore. They’ll be your best buds and just happily pass it over if you ask nicely.”

Fireheart snorted. “There’s advantages to being kind, you know.”

“Yeah, I’ve seen that with you.” Dustpelt’s whiskers twitched as he bent his head to start on his rat.

The conversation seemed to be at a positive end, so Fireheart was content to eat, too, but he didn’t miss his friends staring at him. Greystripe said something under his breath to Ravenwing, which, if Fireheart was reading his lips right, was, “What in the world is going on over there?”

[thesongoficeandfir3]

Dark!Aegon i x reader

A/n: 18+ ONLY! reader is a Baratheon but race is NOT mentioned however the reader does have the features of a Baratheon (blue eyes and black hair), reader is female with female anatomy

Warnings: SMUT, DC, power imbalance, age gap (reader is of age), innocence kink? Lmk if I missed any

Would rate 🖤 out of three on dark scale

Would rate 🌶️🌶️ out of five on smut scale

This is my first time writhing smut so sorry if it’s shit 🙃

Might do a dark Maegor or Young Tywin next

- Aegon had always prided himself as being a good man or more so a good man if compared to the many of the corrupt men in Westeros

- He would believe he did not have any darkness in him however, this resolve started to crumble when he met you.

- You were married to one of your father’s vassal houses and had a son however, your husband died fighting one of the many battles in attempt to take over Dorne, and due to the laws your son was sent to live with his paternal family thus leaving you alone once again like before getting married.

- You were still young and fertile and it was not uncommon for a highborn widow to be married again, thus why Orys decided to bring you to the capital where he spent so much time being the king’s hand. The capital always had highborns coming in and out so it was a possibility one of them may be your new husband

- When Aegon first saw you, he immediately was enticed by your beauty. Your hair as dark as the soils of Highgarden flowing down your back, sitting atop your head your mother’s sapphire diadem brought even more attention to your blue eyes, and the gold and black gown you wore clinging to your body beautifully

- He burned the image into his brain the way you nervously dipped your head down when meeting him, your blue eyes scanning his face desperate for his approval. It was almost comical to him how opposite you were to Orys, who was the embodiment of your house sigil as large and intimidating as a stag whereas you looked more like a fawn about to be slaughtered by its prey but he found it amusing none the less

- You would be in KL for many weeks but his obsession would be nothing more than a small flame, simply just admiring you from afar, but the small flame would turn into a roaring blaze when he saw you taking care of his son Aenys.

- You often found yourself alone and bored in the Redkeep since you hardly knew anyone there, so to keep you occupied your father arranged for you to take care of Aenys who was only a babe. You did miss taking care of your son who was now with his father’s family, so it was a sweet reminder

- One day after a stressful meeting Aegon was headed to his chambers for a much needed bath when he passed you in the gardens rocking and singing to a giggling Aenys, all the anger and stress vanished in an instant and calmness washed over him. It had been so long since he felt that way almost forgetting the feeling. That day he also felt a switch within him and a strong desire to keep seeing you like that

- He couldn’t help but use the same power he prided himself not abusing to abuse it to keep seeing you do that. He ordered that you become the sole caretaker and wet nurse to Aenys, making claims that the babe was so much calmer in your presence. You were so blinded by the fact that you missed your own son to see how odd his decision was

- Aegon was swift and discrete in chasing away any potential suitors who looked your way, also giving your father, his hand, more work than usual in attempt for him not to notice how much time the king spent with his daughter

- Convincing you to put Aeny’s crib in your room claiming it would be easier for you to take care of him, but it was more for him being able to walk into your chambers whenever he wishes and he could easily hide his reasoning just wanting to see his son

- When you start to feed Aenys, Aegon would often be nearby, watching with a mixture of peace and lust within him. The peaceful feeling coming from the knowledge that you are providing life-sustaining nourishment for his heir and the lustful feeling coming from what if you continued being the one to nurture and further his bloodline

- He would continue to stare when you place the babe down, your chest momentarily still exposed as you prioritize making Aenys comfortable first before fixing yourself. He would start to daydreaming what it would be like for you to be under him bare like that as his seed dripped from you after he’d taken you

- Things were going well for him soon enough suitors stopped talking with your father about potential proposals and you were always so obedient at his side without protest or rather you didn’t think you were allowed to.

- Panic starts to rise in Aegon when one day while having a drink, Orys mentions he wants to take you back to Storm’s End since he can’t find a match for you here, whereas in Storm’s End there was already possibility of three lords.

- That night Aegon summoned you to his chamber during the hour of the wolf you were about to grab his son thinking Aegon wanted to see him as that was always the case, but but the maid who called for you stopped you and said he only wanted to see you. You were extremely confused but obeyed the king’s command not having the slightest clue what was to happen.

NSFW below 18+ ONLY

You let out a strained gasp and whimper as Aegon’s body was pressed on top of you thrusting himself into you without warning. He squeezes his eyes shut at the way your walls immediately tighten around him making his brain turn into mush. He tries desperately to regain control of his spinning mind, burying his face into your neck and mumbling out calming words and hushes in a poor attempt to calm you as well as regain control of himself.

His body shakes as he tries his best not to thrust himself into you again for he knew if he did he’ll be finished before you two even get anywhere. You then hear him mumbling something over and over again in what you assumed was his mother tongue. Fortunately for you his temporary lack of movement allowed you to get used to his size but you still couldn’t help the soft whimper that slip past your lips.

His platinum blond hair already slick with sweat sticking to his forehead and pressing against your jaw.

He then slightly raised his head, his dark violet eyes scanning your features devouring you with just one look that made you feel butterflies in your stomach. It didn’t help when he moves a hand to caress your cheek, the feeling of it was callous due to the years of wielding blackfyre.

“Are you ready to please your king?” He says through a husky voice.

“Y-yes” you squeak out, surprising yourself with how high an octave your voice went.

With the conformation he doesn’t hesitate to begin rocking himself into immediately finding a rhythm. His movements fast yet calculated, as he was with most things in his life.

You nearly choked on your spit as your body involuntarily sucked in sharply the feeling of ecstasy being new to you. The few times you did lay with your now deceased husband was uncomfortable and quick as he valued his own pleasure over your own. Mewls and incoherent words start to slip past your lips. Embarrassed by this you slap your mouth shut with your hands but Aegon is quick to stop that.

Using one hands to keep himself propped up, he uses the other to restrain your arms above your head. He then rest his forhead on yours, his breathing coming out in pants as he continues his movements.

“You look so beautiful taking care of my sweet boy” he says between strained grunts “he needs a mother badly, he needs you to be the mother he lost” he says almost desperately his pace picking up

You hardly registered his words your back arches aching to meet his increased paced all you could get out was a ‘yes my king’ through a broken moan

Aegon can feel himself getting closer and buried his face back to your neck the sound of his grunts increasing.

“No, call me by my name.” He manages to say through them.

“Aegon” you say almost uncertain and soft, the word being foreign to you as you’ve gotten too used to calling him my king or your highness.

The volume dissatisfied him so he moves the hand that was restraining you bringing it down to your bud rubbing against it in a circular motion with his fingers to cause more friction along with his slamming hips.

“You will call me by my name when we are like this… You will scream it while I take you as mine” he says it like a command his tone booming with authority, a sharp reminder you were truly being taken by the king.

At the sudden added friction his name leave your lips faster than you can think it in a loud and desperate moan followed by curses no highborn lady should ever repeat. Yourself a few hours ago before you were summoned to the king’s chambers would be shocked that you had it in yourself to say that.

He lets out a hiss as he forces himself out of you, getting off the bed to stand at the edge of it before grabbing your hips and dragging you to the edge. You were still lying on your back as Aegon stood, preparing to position himself between your legs once more. First taking just a moment to admire you.

You didn’t have the slightest idea how badly Aegon wanted you below him as he pumped you full of himself, how during all those months how he’d dream about every part of you, how his need for you nearly went out of control when he saw you feeding his son motherhood looked so natural on you.

Aegon the cocky bastard knew you would be his eventually he was a conqueror after all, but his first plan was longer and would take time. It was foiled however when one drunk night with Orys, the man said he was going to take you back to Storm’s End as he couldn’t find a single match for you but already found three at your ancestral home.

The conqueror panicked and for the first time he had acted out irrationally. He wished your first time would be at your wedding you wrapped around the black and red cloaks of house Targaryen, a roaring sign of his success.

He is brought back to reality when he feels you arch your back causing your entrance to meet his tip, a moan escaping from the both of you. He grips your hips slamming back into you , his movements a lot more rougher and deeper with the new found stability.

“You should be honored Lady Baratheon, soon enough you will be carrying the seed of the conqueror and bear me many dragons” the headboard slams against the stonewall the loud slams almost challenges the screams of your pleasure and the begging of his name “you will be the queen” his thrust deeper than the last “you will be my queen.”

It doesn’t take long for you both to reach climax, his seed felt warm as it shot inside of you making you shudder. He desperately wanted to stay there but his body jerked and shook to his avail forcing him out.

As you come down from your high realization finally starts to settle in at what you just had done. A widowed woman of your position lying with a man who was not her husband. To fuel to the fire a married man, a married man who was the king. If word got out you would put great shame and mockery upon not only yourself but your house, the house your innocent father had worked so hard to claim.

Aegon senses the shift in your expression and when you try to get up he pushes you back to the soft bed.

“I’m sorry Aeg—, my king but-“ you try to speak out but Aegon silenced you.

“Shhh it’s ok” he mumbles out climbing back on top of you, his limp member rubbing against your sore entrance blood immediately rushing to it causing it to be hard again. “I’ll deal with Orys he’s a prideful man anyways all he’ll see is his blood on the throne so just relax for now” he says completely drunk on lust he’s not even sure of what he’s saying and his movements are sloppy and uncoordinated all he knew was that he needed to feel that over and over again.

[deantfwinchester]

A Half-Day

Pairing: No-Outbreak!AU, Joel x Teacher!Reader, same timeline

Ok so i didn't get em both posted n the same day, but two in two days ain't bad!! Hope y'all enjoy :)

Summary: Morning sickness with Baby #2 manifests a little differently than the first go-round. No worries - Joel's gonna take care of his girl no matter what.

Warnings: pregnancy, more euphemisms for vomit, and they already have another little one as well this time.

A/N: self-indulgent fluffy nonsense. guilty as charged

Word Count: 2.7k

____________________________________________________________

It’s better this time around, for the most part at least. Rather than a steady, consistent nausea most mornings when you wake up, this time it’s more intense bouts on scattered days. You’ll admit, it’s nice to not be intimately acquainted with the plumbing every day, but the days that you are? Damn pipes should take you out to dinner, as much time as you’re spending together. An awesome trade, really. 

One morning it’s so bad it doesn’t stop by the time you get to work. You’d left for work during a lull, having been lured into a false sense of security by the temporary return of your sea legs. But now it’s second period, and you’ve left class to hit the lounge bathroom multiple times — this is additionally unpleasant in a public restroom for sure. Once you finish you shut your eyes tight, breathe deep, and pick yourself up off the floor for the fourth — or was it the fifth? — time this morning, and exit the bathroom, straight into your closest friend on campus, the teacher next door to you. 

“Whoa, sweetie, what’s going on?,” she asks, holding your shoulder steady and taking in the sickly expression you’d been too surprised to steel into a smile. Her brows furrow deeper in concern when your eyes are slow to meet her own, “I stopped by your room to grab some of your spare copies, and the kids told me you were gone for the third time?” You stand up straighter and clear your throat, trying to deflect her concern — it doesn’t work.  

“Yeah, I’m fine, just a little morning sickness, that’s all,” you nod, attempting to assure both her and yourself. 

“Babe, I heard you, and that wasn’t little. You been doing this all morning?,” she asks, eyes wide and borderline tearful. 

“It’s cool, I’ll get it together. I think,” oh god, it’s happening again. You attempt to swallow and finish your thought. “I-I think that’s the last of it,” you stutter, beginning to sweat a bit. She doesn’t buy it for a second. 

“Absolutely not. You’re benched for today,” she says, ushering you slowly to the couch in the corner of the room. After sitting you down, she grabs a bottle of water and twists off the cap, passing it to you, “Here. Little sips whenever you can manage. If you’ve been doing this all morning you gotta be dehydrated. I’ll let em know you need a sub. Where’s your phone?”

At this point you so badly want to avoid barfing again, you’re done fighting. You let out a tired “classroom,” between slow, measured breaths, and begin to sink into the worn sofa beneath. 

“Okay. Don’t you dare get up! I got your kids, and you’re going home.”

You can’t blame her, you’d be worried sick if the roles were reversed, and going home sounds pretty damn good right now. You nod and lay back against the cushion, closing your eyes and willing the nausea to subside. 

______________________________________________________________

Joel leaves work immediately after getting the call, worried out of his mind. Receiving a call from you outside of your lunch period was odd on its own, but answering it to a voice that wasn’t yours made his blood run cold. Luckily he recognized your friend’s voice fairly quickly as she informed him you needed to go home, and she didn’t want you driving. 

No urging was required, as Joel had his keys in his hand before she could finish making her request. He’d been worrying about you since he left this morning, while you insisted you were fine through a still-queasy grin. He knows you’ll be okay after while, but the fact you’ve been suffering all morning with this is breaking his heart.

Joel gets to school about ten minutes into your planning, and signs into the office, meeting your friend there who takes him to the lounge.

He enters to find you curled in on yourself on the couch, eyes closed like you’re trying to get a little sleep. He crouches down in front of you and gently pushes your hair back from your forehead to rouse you. 

“Sweetheart? You alright?” he croons. 

“Joel?” you say, voice rough with the grain of your battered throat from this morning’s festivities.

“Hey darlin’. I’m sorry you’re still not feeling good. Let’s get you home, huh?” he asks, standing up on his rusty knees and leaning forward to kiss the top of your head before grabbing your hands. “You ready to get outta here?” you give a small, miserable nod, and he feels his heart crack a little. He lifts you gently from the couch and rubs your back as he walks you steadily out the door.

You’re quiet as you make your way to the car. Joel sits you down in the passenger seat and reaches over your shoulder, buckling your seatbelt himself, and you smile in appreciation. 

“Wait what about my car, Joel?” you ask, though you certainly don’t feel like driving. 

“Don’t worry bout that honey, I’ll get Sarah or Tommy to come with me later on and we’ll drive it back. Not a problem,” he replies, squeezing your knee in comfort. You know he means it, too. He’s so sweet about it but you still feel bad. That’s more somebody else has got to do because you couldn’t get your shit together. 

Joel can see the guilt growing on your face, so he starts talking again, hoping to distract you. “You gonna be alright if we pick Vivi up before we head home?” 

“Yeah of course. isn’t it still a little early though?” you ask. It’s still pretty early in the day, not quite eleven o’clock. 

“It is,” he replies with a sober nod, “But i don’t feel like lettin’ you outta my sight anymore today, that’s all.” He tucks your hair behind your ear and puts his hand under your chin, lifting so your eyes to meet his own. Yours begin to water a little bit. You feel like a fucking baby, having to call home and be picked up in the middle of the day. You blink back the tears, and Joel sighs a little before turning away.

Joel gets in the driver’s seat, and sees you shaking a little, so he cranks on the heat. “You warm enough, baby?” and you just nod, keeping your eyes trained forward, and resting your head against the window.

“All right. let me know if you need to stop, or need air, anything, okay?” you give him a small “okay” in reply, and he pulls away. You ride most of the way in silence, but he grabs your hand and squeezes. He's pretty sure you’re upset, but he doesn’t wanna bring it up in case you’re just tired. The hormones have been doing a number on you this go-round.

______________________________________________________________

When he pulls up to the preschool and parks the car, he turns to you and before he can get a word out, the tears begin to fall. You’d spent the ride over trying to swallow the guilt eating at you. Leaving during the school day, making other teachers cover your classes, grading that needed to get done, getting behind on the lesson schedule, and pulling Joel from his own workday — the list of inconveniences you created today ran on loop in your mind. Joel’s eyes widen in surprise at the sudden shift in mood. 

“I'm so sorry, Joel. I’m sorry you had to leave work in the middle of the day to come get me like a fucking kid, this is ridiculous. I couldn’t just get my shit together, this is so stupid!,” you sob, face in your hands. You knew it was coming, and you’d rather not do it with Vivi in the car. Joel looks devastated to see you crying, and you feel the guilt expand. 

“Oh angel, what are you talking about? You think I'd rather be at work than here with you? I couldn’t get to the school fast enough when I got that call, sweetheart,” he says, holding one of your hands and wiping your tears with his other. You look back at him and sniffle, blinking tears away. 

“None of this is your fault, sweet girl. you can’t help that our little menace is in there making you feel so sick.” he says, resting a light hand on your belly to avoid agitating your nausea. “Don't you worry about work, school, the car, anything. That's my job darlin’. You’re doing the heavy lifting already, I'm just lucky enough to get to take care of you in the meantime. Please let me.” Your lip wobbles again, but this time the tears that fall are from joy and admiration. No matter how long you’re together, Joel’s unwavering care and dedication make you feel so loved it’s overwhelming. “Okay sweet girl?” and you nod again. 

Joel reaches over and pulls you into a tight hug, holding the back of your head, and pressing a kiss to your temple. “Good. Now I'm gonna run in and grab Vivi then we’re heading straight home so you can get some rest, alright?” He kisses you once more and squeezes your hand before getting out of the car.

He approaches the open classroom door and knocks. He's only about half an hour early since today’s a half day, but there aren’t any other parents there just yet. 

The teacher greets him warmly when she comes to the door. “Mr. Miller, hi! you’re a little early, we still have about thirty minutes left in play centers before the end of the day.” 

“Yeah, sorry about that. I came to get Vivi early so we could head on home. Her mama wasn’t feeling at work so I went to pick her up. Wanna make sure I don't gotta leave again today."

“Oh no, of course! Let me go grab Vivi. I hope everything’s okay, i know you guys are expecting.” 

“Yeah, she’ll be alright. The morning sickness did a number on her with Vivi too, poor thing.” The teacher gives a sympathetic smile and hands him Vivi’s backpack as the Assistant Teacher leads Vivi over holding her hand, which Vivi rapidly releases, running to the door excitedly upon seeing Joel standing there. “Daddy!” she exclaims, and Joel leans down to scoop her up in his arms, grinning ear to ear. He gives her a kiss on the cheek once she reaches his level, before addressing her.

“Hey there babygirl! We’re gonna head out a little early today, ‘s that alright?” she nods, and he thanks the teachers before turning around and heading out the door. 

Vivi waves bye to her teachers before continuing. “Why daddy?” 

“Your mama’s not feeling good, so we’re gonna get her home to get some rest, but I need your help. You wanna help me take care of Mommy today?” 

Her little eyes go wide with concern, and her little lip begins to wobble. he softens at how much it looks like yours. “is Mommy okay?” 

“Yeah, yeah, she’ll be alright pumpkin,” he says, running his knuckle beneath her little chin to assuage her worry. “We just need to let her get some sleep and try to make her feel better okay? Your baby brother’s busy swimmin’ laps in there making your mama’s tummy hurt,” he smiles. Vivi nods back in understanding.

When they get to the car, Joel opens the back door by Vivi’s car seat and sets her down, ready to buckle her in, but she hops out to reach over and talk to you. Joel looks exasperated at how quick she is when he turns back and finds she isn’t there, making you chuckle. She excitedly greets you, and even feeling like you do, she brings a smile to your face.

“Hey honeybee, how was school today?” you say, giving her cheek a little kiss before Joel grabs her and sits her back in her car seat. She keeps yapping while he buckles her in, shaking his head in amusement. 

“Good mommy!” she says, and starts talking about the fun things she did today, specifically the art she got to make with the little dot paints. She loves those things. Joel grabs your hand again in the driver’s seat while you talk with Vivi, and squeezes before cocking his head to the side, letting you know he’ll keep her occupied in conversation if you wanna lay back against the window again.

______________________________________________________________

When you get home, Joel gets Vivi out of her car seat, and she runs to grab your hand while you walk inside. “Daddy said I could help him take care of you today, mommy,” she says, beaming with pride. Your heart melts at her sincerity and care. 

“That's so sweet baby, thank you so much.” Joel pipes up behind you both, having grabbed your bag and Vivi’s from the truck. 

“That’s right, and I also said your mama needs rest more than anything. So how ‘bout we let her get to bed and you help me get some lunch together, huh?” 

“Okay daddy. Mommy, you need comfy clothes before nap time,” Vivi instructs.

“Okay baby, I'll get changed. You gotta be hungry, so get something to eat with daddy first.” You mouth a “thank you” to Joel as you part from Vivi. He pulls you close and whispers “of course” in your ear before kissing your head again, and shooing you off to the bedroom.

You’re cozy in the bed when Joel comes in with Vivi after she’s eaten, and he can tell she’s flagging. She’ll be out like a light for her own nap in no time. She comes in with a bottle of gatorade in your favorite flavor, and Joel carries a sprite with a bendy straw and a sleeve of plain crackers. He hands you the items before grabbing Vivi and plopping her on the bed next to you, where she cuddles up next to your side, and he climbs in on her other side to hold you.

Joel asks you to try to eat a little bit before you get to sleep, and offers some yogurt or bone broth if you can stomach it. He'll also make peppermint tea “if you think it’ll help.” He's already coaxed two advil and half a bottle of water into you since you got home. You take a couple sips of the sprite and eat a couple crackers but tell him all you want right now is for him to stay there with you both. That’ll do just fine for him.

You and Vivi are both asleep in no time. You lean against Joel as he holds you, and Vivi’s leaned against you in his lap. He plays the tv quietly and dozes off as well. This is how Sarah finds the three of you when she arrives home, dropped off from the carpool after school. 

Joel wakes to find his oldest giggling and taking a picture of the three of you, and rolls his eyes before greeting her, and explains the day’s events while gesturing for her to join the pile. Sarah takes her shoes off and crawls into the middle as well next to Vivi, laying her head in your lap, listening to her little sister’s breathing on her right and her little brother’s movements in your stomach on her left.

You rouse just long enough to look down at Sarah and utter a tired “Hi Sweet Pea, how was your day?” cut in the middle with a yawn as you place a hand in her hair and begin carding your fingers through her soft curls. You’ve dozed back off before she can begin to respond, and she and Joel chuckle at each other and she closes her eyes, ready to fall asleep under your drowsy ministrations.

Joel looks down at his family and nearly tears up. Sarah’s breathing evens out soon after, and he reflects on how lucky he is. As he’s about to doze again himself, he suddenly remembers the car still at the school. Eh, it’s Friday anyhow. The car can wait til tomorrow. He sighs in contentment, and joins his three girls napping in the late afternoon sun.

[sugurugetoshairbrush]

tl;dr smoking a bowl outside with stoner!suguru getou

(hood!toji gets everyb caught up) [prev]

“Suguru, I swear I’m not mad… just curious how a romantic picnic date turns into a group affair.”

You lean into the phone camera, raising a skeptical eyebrow at Suguru’s sheepish expression. He avoids your gaze, moving his phone away as though shielding himself might lessen your scrutiny. You hear him inhale sharply.

“Hold on,” he says, voice low. “Let me go to my room.”

The screen shifts as Suguru walks through his apartment. The lighting dims, and soon his room comes into view. He sits back against the headboard, deftly tying up his hair before meeting your gaze again.

“Well…” he starts, dragging out the word. “I had all the food laid out in the kitchen to prepare—when Gojo bust in.”

You can already tell where this is going, but you let him continue.

“He got all excited, assuming we were all going on a picnic. Said it would make his week since his car’s in the shop and he’s had two migraines in a row. I… didn’t have the heart to tell him otherwise.”

Suguru gives you a knowing look, as if this explanation alone should suffice.

“Then,” he adds, rubbing his temples, “in true Gojo fashion, he invited Shoko and Nanami because, apparently, we haven’t all hung out in a while.”

You groan, setting your phone down to focus on your hair. “But we’re literally going today.”

“I know, baby. I promise I’ll make it up to you.” His voice softens. “Hey, if it helps: Nanami’s driving, Shoko’s bringing the weed, and Gojo made all the food. We’ll pick you up last, so be ready by 1, okay?”

Your arms cross as you narrow your eyes at the screen.

“Please and thank you?” Suguru adds, flashing you a guilty smile.

By the time Nanami’s flashy Lamborghini pulls up outside, you’ve decided to focus on the bright side: a picnic is still a picnic, and riding in a sports car doesn’t hurt. As you step out the door, the car horn blares obnoxiously. You spot Gojo leaning over the console, earning a sharp scolding from Nanami.

The passenger window rolls down, revealing Gojo’s grinning face. His white hair gleams in the sunlight, and he’s decked out in a crisp Burberry shirt with bold blue lettering.

“Hop in, twin!” he calls, waving enthusiastically.

The butterfly door lifts open, and you climb in, greeted by the lively chatter inside. Suguru, sitting beside you, pulls you into a quick side hug, while Shoko smiles lazily from the other side.

“Ready for some chill vibes?” you ask, settling in.

Shoko sighs dreamily, brushing stray hair from her face. “God, yes. Work’s been a nightmare, and Utahime’s visiting her family, so I’ve been suffering alone.” She holds up a clear backpack, revealing sparkly glass pipes and a mylar bag. “I brought some goodies—figured they’d fit the picnic aesthetic.”

Nanami grunts from the driver’s seat as the car pulls away. “Picnic aesthetic, huh?” he mutters, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “No wonder you’re so good at marketing.”

Shoko swats at him, laughing. “Damn right.”

Suguru drapes his arm over your shoulders, the soft fabric of his hoodie brushing against your skin. You peek at the GPS over the seat. “Gojo, you have the address to the nature reserve, right? I’ve been dying to see the pond. I think we’ll see swans!”

Gojo turns, flashing his signature grin. “Of course, sweetheart! You’re the best at picking scenic spots. And get this—Nanami’s trying a pipe for the first time. I’m thrilled.”

Nanami yawns, merging into the fast lane. “Just hope Gojo packed enough food for people other than himself.”

“Are you calling me big-backed, Nanamin?!” Gojo gasps dramatically, drawing a chorus of laughter, and the lack of response speaks for itself.

The trees are a deep, verdant green when you arrive. Sunlight filters through the canopy, casting golden streaks over the moss-covered ground. In the distance, you spot the pond, its still waters reflecting the sky.

Nanami parks carefully, muttering about the dirt ruining his tires. As everyone piles out, Gojo begins chattering about wild plants versus botanical gardens. You stretch your legs, joining Suguru at the trunk as he retrieves the picnic basket.

He grins, setting the basket aside before scooping you into his arms. “Let’s make this memorable,” he teases, lifting you effortlessly.

You squeak, clutching his neck as he carries you bridal-style. “Suguru!” Making good use of this vantage you squeeze at the flex of his biceps beneath your touch.

The group finds a sunny clearing near the pond, where Gojo unfurls a faded anime blanket.

“Is this… a Digimon blanket?” you ask, incredulous.

“Don’t shame me,” Gojo replies, flopping onto it like a starfish.

Shoko’s voice rings out. “Guys, there are mallards and swans! This spot is perfect.”

Suguru sets you down gently, his hands lingering at your waist. The group settles on the blanket, and Shoko begins unpacking the “tools.”

“Someone better have a lighter,” she says, pulling out a sparkly pink pipe.

Gojo raises a hand. “Torch incoming!”

Gojo grabs the pipe with a grin, packing it densely then handing it off to Nanami like a secret treasure. Nanami takes it with a steady hand, pressing his thumb over the carb and raising it to his lips. Gojo leans in, torch in hand, his elbow brushing your knee as he strikes it to life. The torch flares, a fiery orange that crackles sharply as it meets the bowl. Nanami inhales, his sharp cheekbones hollowing even more under the effort.

Leaning back onto his hands, he exhales a thick cloud, the smoke curling lazily upward before blending into the earthy aroma of moss and wood around you. It’s a strangely serene contrast—the cool, natural air swirling with the unmistakable musk of the smoke.

When Nanami cracks his eyes open, his usually stern face is softer, his posture visibly unwinding. He chuckles quietly, a rare, lazy smile creeping across his lips as his blond hair falls slightly over his forehead.

Shoko doesn’t wait long to snatch the torch from Gojo, a mischievous gleam in her eyes. “Watch this,” she teases, expertly lighting the bowl and taking a long drag. She exhales smoothly, her lips reddened from the pressure as perfect rings of smoke float into the air.

“Damn, Shoko, you’re too cool,” you murmur, enchanted as you wave your hand through one of the ghostly rings. It feels delicate against your skin before vanishing entirely.

“Shoko’s not the only one who can pull off tricks,” Suguru interjects, his cocky tone drawing everyone’s attention. He grabs the pipe, refilling it with deliberate care. With a smirk, he meets Shoko’s eyes. “I see your rings and raise you one.”

Suguru takes his hit, dragging deeply. When he exhales, his rings are massive, thick, and perfectly stacked, floating higher and wider than Shoko’s. The group collectively hums in impressed acknowledgment.

“Show-off,” Gojo mutters, his mock annoyance earning quiet laughter from everyone, including you.

When it’s your turn, you and Gojo, ever the chaotic duo, completely botch your hits. The smoke erupts in sharp, uncontrolled bursts as you both cough, doubling over in fits of laughter.

Suguru rubs your back in mock sympathy, unable to resist a sly jab. “You’d think you’d have learned something by now.”

It backfires quickly. A few rounds in, even the pros are struggling. Coughs ripple through the group as scorched lungs and parched throats demand mercy. The earlier finesse gives way to everyone wheezing and giggling uncontrollably.

The world around you starts to feel softer. The golden sunlight filtering through the trees feels warmer, the greens of the forest deeper. You breathe in the mingling scents of smoke, damp earth, and pine, savoring the strange but comforting mix.

Suguru’s fingers brush lightly over your forearm, sending a shiver across your skin. His soft hum is followed by a warm kiss pressed to your temple. You lean into him, feeling the weight of his presence grounding you.

“Guys! Guys!” Gojo’s hoarse voice interrupts the calm. He’s pointing wildly toward the pond, barely containing his excitement.

Squinting, you follow his gesture. Across the shimmering water, a pair of swans has landed. Their long necks intertwine gracefully as they glide across the surface, the image so peaceful it feels unreal.

The sight captures everyone’s attention, pulling a hush over the group as you all watch. The gentle rustle of leaves and the occasional call of a bird fill the space.

Amidst the calm, Gojo’s shuffling breaks the silence. He’s hunched over the picnic basket, digging through its contents with increasing urgency.

“’M already hungry,” he grumbles, drawing groans from the group as the spell of the moment breaks.

Gojo pulls out a charcuterie board, followed by a tray of croissant sandwiches, a vibrant fruit platter, and bundles of baby’s breath flowers. The spread is as picturesque as a painting, sunlight glinting off the delicate petals and golden pastries. Suguru, suddenly interested, reaches over to pick up one of the flower bundles, plucks a single bloom, and carefully tucks it behind your ear.

“These are for you,” he says softly, his smile warm and radiant, the corners of his eyes crinkling as his dark hair gleams under the sun’s rays.

Shoko fake gags, waving a hand dramatically. “Yeah, yeah, we get it. You two are hopelessly in love or whatever. Meanwhile, some of us have been abandoned by our partners.”

You chuckle and reach out to cradle Suguru’s cheek, pulling him into a kiss. His skin is warm and soft, and you resist the urge to linger longer.

Meanwhile, Gojo has wasted no time digging into the food. Bread crumbs dot his chin, and he shoves a forkful of fruit into his mouth with little grace, chewing loudly and making exaggerated moans. Normally, his antics would irritate you, but today they only make you hungrier.

You gesture to him, and he passes you a croissant sandwich. Flaky crumbs drift onto the blanket as you take a bite, the buttery crust giving way to a symphony of flavors. A dab of sauce trickles down your lip, and you swipe it away with your tongue before holding the sandwich out to Suguru. He leans in to take a bite, his lips brushing against your fingers.

If there’s one thing Gojo excels at, it’s setting the perfect mood with food. Suguru hand-feeds you sweet, tangy strawberries as you recline on the blanket, the pond glimmering in the distance and sunlight casting golden shadows over the lush greenery.

A speckled mallard waddles closer, eyeing the crumbs on the blanket with hopeful intent. Gojo notices and begins crumbling a croissant in his palm.

“Nuh-uh! Oh, hell no,” Shoko says, lunging to swat at his hand. “Feeding ducks is terrible for them—it causes malnutrition!”

Gojo dodges her attempt, smirking. “Yeah, yeah. One crumb can’t hurt. Besides, it’s already been subjected to secondhand smoke thanks to you, Sho’.”

Shoko winces, clearly torn between her environmental convictions and the undeniable truth of your earlier indulgence. Nanami, surprisingly, places a hand on her shoulder.

“Relax,” he says calmly.

Your eyebrows shoot up. Nanami, the usual voice of tension, diffusing a situation? Gojo notices too. He saunters over, dramatically wrapping his long arms around Nanami’s shoulders and burying his face in the blonde’s neck.

“Save me, Nanamin~” he drawls.

Nanami stifles a chuckle—his first real crack in composure—and it’s clear the weed is doing its work.

“Open up,” Suguru says, drawing your attention back to him.

He dangles a plump grape above your mouth, teasing you with a grin. You open obediently, humming with pleasure as the juicy sweetness bursts on your tongue. Suguru’s fingers are stained crimson from the berries, and he holds up a bright green slice of kiwi next.

As you savor it, the tangy flavor lingers on your tongue, and a random question pops into your head. “Mmm, juicy. Hey, Sugu, is kiwi a fruit or a veggie? I mean, it’s green, and most green foods are vegetables.”

He blinks at you, clearly caught off guard, his stained fingers hovering in the air. You reach out, grabbing his wrist, and pull his hand to your mouth. Slowly, you lick at his fingers, swirling your tongue around his forefinger before sucking it gently. The faint fruity tang sends a pleasant hum through you, and Suguru’s eyes darken with quiet amusement.

“Sweetheart… kiwi is definitely a fruit,” he says, cheeks tinged with pink as he carefully slips his fingers from your mouth. “It has seeds. That’s basic knowledge, y’know. Let’s blame this… lapse on the bud.”

“Mean,” you pout, batting your lashes playfully.

His smile softens as he leans forward, pressing a sweet kiss to your lips. “At least you know I’d never lie to you.”

You smirk mischievously. “Wish you’d lie to me sometimes, Sugu.”

Gojo cuts in, pointing an accusatory finger at the group. “That goes for all of you, rude as fuck! Now come on—make it up to me by feeding the duckies!”

The high must’ve softened everyone’s resolve because, against your better judgment, you all comply with Gojo’s whim, trudging to the pond’s edge with croissants in hand. The sunlight filters through the trees, warming your skin as the dirt path crunches softly beneath your shoes. A pair of swans, their feathers pristine and white, glide toward the shore, their movement as graceful as a brushstroke.

“Here they come!” Gojo exclaims, his voice cutting through the tranquility like a slap.

The swans jolt, flapping their wings in alarm before settling again.

“And you’re so obnoxious,” Nanami mutters, casting a sharp look at Gojo. “You’re going to scare them off.”

Undeterred, Gojo grins while Nanami kneels by the water’s edge, cooing softly at the swans and sprinkling a few crumbs in front of his feet.

Shoko inhales deeply, a serene smile spreading across her face as she takes in the lush scenery. 

“This is… nice,” she says, her voice dreamy. “Fresh air, earthy smells. Feels good to be surrounded by actual greenery for once. Usually, the only plants I see are the ones we smoke.” She shakes her head, the ends of her golden-brown hair brushing over her shoulders. “It’s kind of sad.”

You squat down, carefully grounding yourself with one hand wrapped around Suguru’s ankle. Your free hand skims the pond’s surface, the coolness of the water sending a shiver up your spine.

“They say, ‘go outside and touch grass,’ like it’s a joke,” you murmur, glancing up at Suguru, “but maybe they’re onto something.”

He chuckles softly, the vibrations traveling down to where your hand rests on his leg.

A thought tumbles out of your mouth before you can stop it. “Hey, guys… is water wet?”

Suguru freezes, letting out a sharp cough as though choking on air. To your right, Gojo snorts so loudly it startles the swans again.

“You lost me.”

“Guys, this is a judgment-free zone,” you insist, shooting Gojo a pointed look. “I expect sincere answers.”

Nanami groans, clearly over the conversation, but continues feeding the swans in stoic silence.

Gojo hums thoughtfully, tapping his chin. “Okay, okay, I laughed, but now I’m genuinely stumped. I mean, water isn’t technically wet, right? It’s just… water. It only makes things wet. On its own, it just is.”

You perk up. “That’s what I’m saying! Water can make you wet, but that’s just the sensation. Objectively, you’re the one who’s wet.”

Suguru, exasperated, pulls his ankle free from your grip and hauls you upright, gripping your shoulders firmly. “You’re all ridiculous,” he says, his voice dripping with mock seriousness. “Of course water is wet. It’s a liquid. It has moisture. This isn’t up for debate; it’s basic science.”

“Smartass,” you huff, shrugging out of his grip.

Nanami clears his throat, his tone surprisingly contemplative. “Actually, Getou, I think they have a point. Wetness is about contact. Water itself isn’t wet—it’s what makes things wet. It’s all about perspective.”

Shoko throws her hands up. “What the fuck?! You guys are gonna give me a headache and ruin my high. Debate over. Full stop.”

You flick Suguru’s chest playfully. “Face it, we presented the better argument.”

Gojo sticks his tongue out in agreement, the obnoxious red muscle wagging in Suguru’s direction.

Suguru smirks, his grin teasing and wicked. “Funny because my argument came from someone intimately familiar with wetness. You might say I’m an expert in the field, after all.”

“Suguru!” Your face flames as you slap his arm, and Shoko groans in disgust.

Nanami doesn’t miss a beat, pointing toward the trail. “Getou, you’re done. Time out. Ten minutes. Go take a hike.”

Suguru raises his hands in surrender. “Fine, fine. I was going to check out the trail anyway.” He turns to you, dark eyes glinting. “Coming?”

You sigh but follow, the breeze by the water starting to chill you.

As you start walking, you catch Gojo giving Suguru a sly dap and a slap on the back. Thick as thieves, those two.

Suguru quickens his pace to match yours, and when you swat at his arm in retaliation for his earlier comment, he catches your hand effortlessly. Linking his arm through yours, he pulls you close as the trail winds through wiry trees.

You stop at a wooden post where the dirt path climbs steeply over an incline of jagged rocks. You eye the trail warily.

“You’re kidding,” you mutter, already regretting following him.

Suguru presses a finger to your lips, his grin widening. “No complaints. You wanted to smoke outside, so we’re fully immersing ourselves in nature.”

Grumbling, you follow his lead, climbing carefully over smaller stones before tackling the larger ones. Your footing slips near the top, but Suguru’s hand steadies you, his grip firm.

“Careful there~” he teases, his voice tinged with amusement.

You shoot him a glare as you regain your balance, brushing dust and dirt off your clothes. He nudges your shoulder gently. “Look around.”

You do—and the sight takes your breath away. Behind you, the slope drops sharply, the rocks giving way to a sprawling field dotted with vibrant magenta and lemon-yellow flowers. Patches of lush green grass ripple in the breeze, framed by towering trees that crest the hilltop above. The golden afternoon light bathes the scene, and for a moment, it feels like a dream.

The soft click of a camera pulls you from your reverie. Suguru grins at you from behind his phone, his cheeks high, eyes crinkled with genuine joy.

“… Beautiful,” he murmurs, though you’re not sure if he’s talking about you or the view.

You raise a lazy peace sign, eyeing his hoodie, now dusty and frayed, with leaves clinging to the sleeves. “And you look cute, all dirty like this.”

He arches a brow and steps closer, looping your arms around his neck. “Well, that’s not fair,” he says, his voice low and teasing as his nose brushes your neck. “I’ll just have to get you dirty too.”

Suguru leans in close, his warm breath fanning over your lips, carrying the potent scent of weed, with traces of sweetness from the fruit. His loose bun barely holds back the strands of his hair that the wind has claimed, giving him an effortlessly ethereal look. You tilt forward, rising onto your toes to meet him, only for him to pull back with that signature, teasing grin, making you chase after him.

“Such a tease, Sugi,” you murmur, your thumb brushing along the short strands at the nape of his neck, the spot that always makes him shiver.

You trail soft kisses along his jawline, letting your lips explore, your tongue tracing the sensitive underside of his jaw. He hums, low and resonant, the sound vibrating through you. When your eyes meet his again, they’re darker now—his pupils blown wide with want.

Determined, you pout, pushing out your lower lip in a way you know will undo him. It works. Suguru closes the distance, capturing your mouth in a kiss that’s hot and insistent. His lips move against yours with a rhythm that’s utterly addictive, their warmth a striking contrast to the chill breeze that raises goosebumps on your skin.

His hands slide beneath your shirt, rough fingertips brushing your bare sides. The contact sends shivers through you, and you instinctively arch into his touch. When a moan escapes you—soft, needy, and unintentional—it catches you off guard, but Suguru seems more amused than surprised.

“You’re more eager than usual,” he teases, the husky rasp in his voice making your head spin.

“I’m always eager for you,” you reply breathlessly, threading your fingers through his hair. You tug just enough to make him groan, the sound like fuel to the fire building between you. “You drive me crazy—can’t think straight.”

His answering laugh is low, reverberating against your chest as his hands tighten on your waist. But the humor fades when you press closer, your voice dropping to a whisper.

“Sugi, I need you. Right now.”

You pull at his hoodie biting down on his collarbone, rough enough to draw a hiss from him, your tongue darting out to soothe the reddened mark. Your fingers thread deeper into his hair, tugging hard until his gaze locks with yours. The look on his face sends a shiver down your spine—his cheeks are flushed, his lips parted, and his eyes dark with hunger. He looks wild, feral, as if the thin thread of control he’s clinging to might snap at any moment.

You slide your hand down to interlock your fingers with his, tugging him toward a stocky tree just a few feet away. When you stop, mere inches from the cracked bark, you guide his hands to your waist. He doesn’t need more prompting, his grip firm as he pulls you flush against his body. His breath is hot against your neck, punctuated by kisses that trail down your nape, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin.

You press back into him, the loose material of his pants doing nothing to mask how hard he is. He grinds against you, and the friction sends a delicious ache pooling low in your stomach. His mouth works at your neck, nipping and sucking as if trying to mark every inch of you. You mewl as his teeth catch your pulse point, the sensation sharp and thrilling.

The pressure of his hips against the swell of your ass has you jolting forward, your hands flying to the rough bark of the tree to steady yourself. The sticky texture of the wood barely registers; all you can focus on is the heat building between your thighs. It’s overwhelming, almost unbearable. You’re already so close, and he hasn’t even—

“C’mon, Sugi,” you whine, sliding a hand under your shirt to tease your nipple. His large hand quickly replaces yours, tugging at the jewelry adorning it. His thumb brushes the cold metal, sending a shiver through you as he presses his erection harder against you.

Desperation takes over as your arch deepens, grinding against him with more urgency. His hand slides over the small of your back, and you glance over your shoulder, batting your lashes with a pout. “Please,” you whisper, your voice trembling. “Need you.”

Suguru groans, the sound low and primal, as if your words snapped whatever restraint he had left. His hand grips your chin, tilting your face toward him. His dark eyes search yours, and when you nod, he exhales sharply, his resolve crumbling.

A minute later, you’re breathless as he yanks down your pants along with your panties in one swift motion, just enough to expose you. He frees himself, his cock bobbing up against his navel, thick and glistening with pre-cum.

He spreads your thighs with one hand, forcing you to press yourself further into the tree for support. The other hand returns to your nipple, his touch slick and wet, and then you feel him—his thick tip gliding along your folds, teasing. Your slickness mixes with his precum coating him easily, his head catching at your entrance before slipping up to brush your clit.

“Please,” you whimper, your voice cracking as you push back against him. But your words tumble out incoherently, your mind too hazy to form a proper sentence.

Suguru chuckles, his voice rough. “What was that, baby? Say it again. Clearer this time.”

You whine, frustration spilling over as you curse under your breath.

“Sugi, pu—ah!”

Suguru suddenly pushes into you in one smooth, fluid motion, your slick sucking him so deep you hear the soft slap of his hips against your ass. His cock stretches you, fills you completely, and you cry out, the sound echoing. Your head knocks against the tree as his chest presses against your back, his breathing heavy and ragged.

“Fuck,” he groans, his voice thick with arousal. “You’re so perfect, bent over for me.”

The sharp smack of his hand against your ass draws a yelp from you, the sting blooming into pleasure that makes you tremble. He pulls out slowly, the drag of his cock against your walls sending sparks down your spine. You push back against him, desperate for more, matching his rhythm as he thrusts deep, then slow, making you feel every inch.

“Feels so good,” you moan, your words slurring as you lose yourself in the sensation. “S-Sugi, you feel so good.”

His movements grow rougher, his hips snapping against yours with an urgency that drives you closer to the edge. The lewd sounds of your bodies meeting—wet, rhythmic, and desperate—fill the air, drowning out everything else.

“You’re so wet,” he pants, his lips brushing your ear. “So tight. Fuck, baby, you’re squeezing me so good.”

His hand finds your lips, and you instinctively suck on his fingers, coating them with saliva. When he moves them lower to rub tight circles on your clit, you gasp, your body jolting at the added stimulation. The dual sensations of his cock inside you and his fingers against your clit are too much, and you feel yourself spiraling.

“You’re close, aren’t you?” he murmurs, his voice strained. “Fuck, I can feel it. So tight f’me.”

Your body shudders as his thrusts quicken, and his words push you over the edge. “Yours,” you manage to gasp, your voice breaking. “All yours—ah, Sugi!”

Your orgasm crashes over you, your walls clenching around him as your vision goes white. Suguru’s grip tightens on your hips as he drives into you, his breath hot and erratic against your neck. He murmurs praises in a husky tone, each word sending a shiver down your spine as he fucks you through your climax.

You remain clenched, your orgasm washing over you in waves, and you can feel his rhythm falter. Your mind is hazy, consumed by the need for more—an ache that only he can fill. Without thinking, the desperate words spill from your lips.

“Sugu… so deep, s’good—ah, come inside. Inside.”

As if compelled, his fingers dig into your flesh, leaving crescent-shaped imprints on your skin as he buries himself fully, shuddering. A guttural moan tears from his throat as he releases deep inside you, his warmth spreading, leaving you both trembling.

The sensation is intoxicating, his thick heat pooling within you as you instinctively push back, savoring every pulse and drop. His voice, raw and broken, murmurs your name like a prayer, and the way he groans against your ear is utterly intoxicating.

The chill of the air suddenly cuts through the heat radiating off your bodies, and you shiver, the reality of your surroundings creeping back. Suguru, noticing your tremble, seems to regain his senses. With a gentle, lingering touch, he eases out of you, carefully tucking himself back into his pants, his gaze soft as he steadies you.

The breeze is brisk, but the warmth of Suguru’s hands on your waist lingers, grounding you even as your legs feel weak and unsteady. You turn to face him, burying your face in his chest.

“Leed fan cee labe,” you mumble into his shirt, the words muffled and nonsensical.

“What was that?” he asks, his brows raising in confusion.

You lift your head, meeting his amused gaze with a sheepish smile. “Need a Plan B, babe.”

Realization dawns on his face, and his expression shifts. “Shit, you’re right.” His hands slide down to adjust your rumpled clothing, tugging your bottoms back into place. “Let’s head out now—we can stop so I can grab you one on the way.”

You nod, though the sticky discomfort between your thighs is impossible to ignore. A flush creeps up your neck, but you push the thought aside, focusing on the changing sky instead. The molten orange of the setting sun blends into hues of deep pink and violet, painting the horizon like a masterpiece. It’s breathtaking.

Suguru’s hair has completely fallen from its loose bun, the dark strands framing his face and catching the soft glow of the fading sunlight. He looks utterly spent, his lips curving into a lazy, content grin. You can’t help but smile back.

“Ready to head back?” he asks, his voice warm.

“Yeah,” you reply, even though your mind buzzes with the impending awkwardness of facing your friends. There’s no graceful way to rejoin them after what just happened, not when the evidence still clings to your skin. It feels like your secret is scrawled all over your face in bold letters.

The forest around you grows darker as the sun dips lower, the tall trees casting elongated shadows across the ground. When you reach the edge of the clearing, you spot the rest of your group by the pond. Gojo, Shoko, and Nanami are slapping at each other’s shoulders, giggling like some badass kids up to no good.

Suguru clears his throat, and Gojo spins around, his eyes narrowing playfully as he looks between the two of you. Suguru hooks his pinky around yours, the small gesture comforting.

“You two have been gone sus-pic-iously long,” Gojo sing-songs, dragging out the words for effect.

Your nose twitches at the strong, smoky scent of weed lingering in the air, and you spot the faint haze around them.

“And your eyes are suspiciously red,” you fire back, raising an eyebrow.

Nanami straightens, crossing his arms as if to feign sternness, but Shoko waves her hands dismissively, ushering the subject away.

“Fair enough,” she says, smirking. “Let’s call it even.”

Without further comment, the group begins gathering the picnic supplies—folding the blanket, collecting containers, and making lazy conversation about the sunset. The walk back to the car is peaceful, a comfortable silence. You feel spent, wrapped in the afterglow of your raunchy rendezvous with Suguru and the tranquil camaraderie of your friends.

But as you approach where Nanami’s sleek car should be parked, your steps falter. Instead of the vehicle, you’re met with two tire tracks imprinted in the dirt and an empty space where it once stood.

Nanami freezes, his jaw slack as he stares at the vacant spot. His face drains of color, and for a moment, no one says anything. It’s Gojo who finally breaks the silence.

“It can’t be… Did they tow it?” His voice carries a mix of disbelief and amusement like he’s caught between laughing and whining.

The realization settles over the group like a heavy cloud. You’re too tired to muster any real outrage, and your friends—still riding their high—seem similarly incapable of processing the situation.

Nanami buries his face in his hands, looking utterly defeated. Suguru, ever the calm one, pulls out his phone, typing rapidly.

“We just need to get back to the apartment,” he says, his tone steady. “My car’s there. I’m texting Toji to pick us up—he’s mobile anyways.”

You nod along with the others, eager to leave the wooded area before night fully descends. Suguru’s phone clicks shut, and he confirms Toji’s ETA. Relief washes over you at the thought of Toji’s reckless but dependable driving.

As you lean into Suguru’s chest for warmth, Gojo starts humming, then breaks into a loud, off-key rendition of Rihanna’s SOS. He’s halfway through the third chorus when the distinct roar of Toji’s car cuts through the air.

The Honda skids to a stop a few feet away, its engine revving loudly, headlights piercing the darkness. 

“Hurry, get in!” Toji’s gruff voice calls, leaning out of the driver’s seat, a smirk on his face that somehow screams both “here to save the day” and “brace for the worst.”

The five of you scramble into the car in a chaotic rush. Gojo claims the passenger seat after a brief, comical tussle, leaving Shoko, Nanami, and Suguru to squeeze into the back. You climb onto Suguru’s lap, shutting the door as the car lurches forward.

Perched awkwardly, you grip the back of Toji’s seat to steady yourself as the sedan jolts over uneven terrain. Toji glances back briefly, patting your hand beside his head. “Duck down if we pass any cops, would ya? Can’t risk another ticket.”

The sky outside deepens to a starless black, made even darker by the car’s heavy tint. Toji’s erratic driving tosses you against Suguru’s chest, each bump jarring you further. You focus on your breathing, willing away the queasiness creeping into your stomach.

Gojo hums some nonsensical tune, punctuated by bursts of loud TikTok videos from his phone. Shoko, meanwhile, has gone limp, her head lolling from Suguru’s shoulder to Nanami’s. Her soft snores are oddly soothing amidst the chaos.

Nanami, ever the skeptic, watches Toji’s movements with a wary eye, his body stiff. “Something wrong, Toji?” he asks, his tone heavy with suspicion.

Toji’s brows furrow as he spares a glance at the rearview mirror. His hands tighten on the wheel, and the car speeds up to cut off a vehicle in the next lane. “Nothing major,” he says, though his voice carries a hint of unease.

“Nothing major?” Nanami repeats, pushing a hand through his hair. “I’ll take you at your word—for now.”

Toji clicks his tongue, as if debating how much to share. “Fine. Just a little hiccup,” he admits. “I double-back on a wealthy guy I scammed—transferred a chunk of cash to my second account earlier today. Forgot to use a VPN, though, so my withdrawal’s traceable. But don’t worry. I’ve got it all handled.”

The car goes quiet as his words sink in. You sit up straighter, your breath catching. Nanami chokes on whatever he was about to say. “You… what? Are we safe?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Toji says dismissively. “Relax. The IP’s all messed up anyway. I use public Wi-Fi—it’s not like they can trace it straight to me.”

Suguru groans, exasperated. “We’ve heard enough Toji, don’t incriminate my friends. Just get us home.”

You close your eyes, resting your forehead against the back of Toji’s seat. The constant dinging of notifications coming from his phone hoisted on the windshield mount is grating, and apparently, Gojo agrees—he snatches the device and powers it off. Toji glares but says nothing, his focus returning to the road.

“I’m getting carsick,” you mutter, pressing the button to roll down your window. Cool evening air rushes in, washing over your face and filling your lungs. Relief floods through you as familiar streets and buildings come into view, signaling the end of this turbulent ride.

Toji maneuvers into a tight spot between a Jeep and a Benz at the end of Gojo and Suguru’s street. The car creaks to a stop, and Suguru’s arms, which had been wrapped around your waist, shift to your thighs, smoothing over your legs.

You spot a sleek car with its hazards on, inching down the road. Squinting, you lean forward. “Check it out, Sugu! It’s a Bugatti.”

Suguru leans with you, intrigued. The car’s deliberate, almost sluggish pace feels odd, and you jab his chest lightly. “Scoping out the scenery, huh?”

Your teasing dies in your throat when the car suddenly surges forward, erratic and fast. The window facing you rolls down, and your heart sinks as the unmistakable silhouette of a gun muzzle emerges from the shadows within.

“Shit,” Toji growls, his voice tight with panic. His hand shakes as he fumbles to restart the ignition, the lanyard holding his keys slipping from his grip and clattering to the floor. Suguru yanks at your shoulders, trying to pull you down.

“What the hell’s going o—” Gojo’s voice cuts off as a thunderous crack tears through the night, the car shuddering violently as a bullet slams into its side. The second shot comes too quickly, sharp and jarring, the sound ricocheting inside the confined space. Chaos ignites in an instant.

Instant pain blooms in your left shoulder, hot and unforgiving, like fire spreading under your skin. It steals the air from your lungs, and a scream bursts from your throat—raw, guttural, almost unrecognizable as your own. Your eyes drop to your arm, now streaked with crimson, blood dripping steadily down to your fingertips.

Gunshots. I’ve been hit. A bullet grazed me. What the fuck? If Toji isn’t dead, I’m gonna kill him myself.

The thoughts slam into you, disjointed and surreal, the world spinning as your mind struggles to grasp the gravity of the moment.

“Suguru, they—” The words barely make it past your lips before his hands are on you, firm but trembling as he grips your shoulders. His voice is frantic, his usually steady tone cracked with panic. “Get down—stay low!”

Toji’s curses cut through the chaos, sharp and biting. His fist slams against the dashboard as the engine sputters to life. “Hold on!” he barks, his knuckles white on the steering wheel. The car jerks forward, tires screeching against the asphalt, but the motion only worsens the dizziness clawing at you.

Your vision begins to blur, black spots creeping into the edges, stars flickering like dying embers. The muffled voices around you—Suguru’s urgent commands, Toji’s muttered expletives—start to fade, swallowed by the throbbing pain and the encroaching darkness.

Slipping under, the last thing you hear is Suguru shouting your name before unconsciousness claims you.

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10/10 fanart by @murawya on pinterest