#i have so much i need to draw and even more i need to scream into the void about

[abbottfanstuff]

A Love Rewritten (7/10)

" Turning the Page… Slowly"

@babytakeittothehead (😌) @schemmentigfs @olderwomenenthusiast @ankhsta @upsidedowndanvers @schemmentisimpasours

The weeks at work began to feel different after your conversation with Melissa. It had been hard—necessary, but still painful in the way only unfinished things can be. There was no undoing the past, no erasing the heartbreak that had come with it, but something had shifted since that day.

The days settled into a rhythm, and with it, so did the small moments that tethered you and Melissa together. At first, they were nothing more than polite exchanges, casual greetings in the hallways, brief chats about lesson plans, the occasional shared laugh at something absurd a student had said. It was measured, careful. You were colleagues with a history, one neither of you spoke about, but one that still lingered in the spaces between words.

And yet, despite everything, you couldn’t deny the truth that sat heavy in your chest: you were as in love with Melissa as ever. But space, that was what you needed to give her. Time to rebuild, to create something steady. Trust had to come first. And maybe, if it wasn’t too late, love could follow.

What you didn’t know, what Melissa would never say out loud yet, was that she felt it too.

Melissa spent weeks trying to convince herself that your return wouldn’t shake her. That she could keep you at a distance, treat you as just another colleague, nod politely in meetings, and pretend like you hadn’t once known her better than anyone. But then you’d gone and had that conversation, the one that dug into wounds she hadn’t realized were still raw.

And now, she was in trouble.

Because she caught herself looking for you, just like she used to. Noticing the way your laugh still made something tighten in her chest. Realizing that her resolve was cracking every time you spoke to her, every time you looked at her like you weren’t just trying to fix the working relationship, you were trying to fix the hurt.

She told herself she was just being cautious. She wasn’t sure if she could trust you again, not fully. But then there’d be moments, small, insignificant things, that made her think maybe, just maybe, you meant it when you said you wanted to rebuild.

Like the way you listened when she spoke, as if every word mattered. Or the way you never pushed, even when she caught the flicker of something hopeful in your eyes.

Melissa wasn’t sure where this would lead. If she could ever let herself have what you once were, or if it was safer to leave the past where it belonged.

But what she did know was this: she had missed you.

And no matter how hard she tried to ignore it, she was starting to wonder if maybe she still wanted you too.

It wasn’t until the staff meeting one Tuesday afternoon that you realized just how much things had shifted.

“Alright, team,” Ava’s voice cut through the murmur of the teacher’s lounge, drawing everyone's attention. “As you know, the Spring Festival is coming up in two weeks. We’ll need volunteers for booths, games, and—if anyone’s feeling extra ambitious—food stands. It’s an all-hands-on-deck kind of event, so I expect to see some enthusiasm.”

Melissa stood at the front of the room, arms crossed, a subtle smirk tugging at her lips. School events like these had always brought out a small spark of excitement in her, though she’d never admit it outright.

“I’ll be running the haunted house,” she continued. “That should be fun for everyone. Watch out, Melissa, I might just scare the life out of you this year.”

Melissa scoffed. “Please. You’re more likely to make me laugh than scream. Unless you’re dressing up as a tax auditor, in which case, yeah, I might faint.”

Jacob perked up from his seat. “Oh! I actually have a few ideas for the haunted house. We could go for a classic ghostly manor theme, or maybe lean into a folklore-based horror experience. I’ve been doing some research—”

Ava held up a hand. “Yeah, yeah, just don’t make it weird.”

Janine, ever the eager participant, clapped her hands together. “I can help with the face-painting booth! Kids love that kind of thing, and I think it’d be really fun.”

“Put me down for the cotton candy stand too. I’ll make it fresh and fluffy," Barbara said, leaning back in her chair.

“Oh, and we can’t forget the pie-eating contest!” Jacob chimed in. “It’s a tradition!”

Melissa nodded approvingly. “Already planned for.”

Janine beamed. “We still need volunteers for the dunk tank.”

The room went silent. Everyone immediately avoided eye contact, suddenly very interested in their notepads or coffee cups.

You glanced around at your colleagues, then shrugged. “I’ll do it.”

Melissa’s head snapped toward you, eyebrows raised.

Ava burst out laughing. “Oh, this is gonna be good. You sure about that?”

“Oh, definitely,” you said, grinning. “Besides, it’s for the kids. And, you know, it might be fun seeing who actually has good aim.”

Melissa leaned back in her chair, eyeing you with an unreadable expression. “You’re braver than I thought.”

Barbara sighed, shaking her head. “Well, as long as we make sure it’s safe.”

“Safe?” Ava scoffed. “Nah, we’re making this an event. We’ll get the biggest crowd possible. Make sure everyone gets a shot at dunking our new vice principal.”

Jacob lit up. “Oh! Maybe we could set up a friendly competition—teachers versus students! They could buy extra throws as a fundraiser.”

You rolled your eyes playfully. “Glad to know you all want to see me drenched.”

“Oh, we’re absolutely making this a spectacle,” Ava confirmed. “It’s gonna be a show.”

Melissa crossed her arms, watching you with something that wasn’t quite a smirk but wasn’t indifference either. “Well,” she said, tilting her head slightly, “I might just have to take a few shots myself.”

There was something in her tone—something teasing, but not unkind. It made your stomach flip in a way you weren’t entirely prepared for.

You cleared your throat, forcing a casual smile. “Looking forward to it.”

And, as ridiculous as it sounded, you meant it.

+++++++++

The two weeks of planning flew by. Between motherhood, after-school meetings, and work, exhaustion settled deep in your bones. Melissa seemed to take notice—one morning, you found a fresh coffee sitting on your desk, a small note tucked beneath it.

Figured you could use this.

You smiled to yourself as you took a sip, the warmth of the coffee sinking into your soul, easing the weight of the long days. In those two weeks, you and Melissa had found a rhythm, the once overwhelming tension between you slowly fading into something easier, something comfortable. But there was still a carefulness between you, an awareness that neither of you wanted to disturb whatever it was that had started to form.

Before you knew it, the day of the fair had arrived. The school grounds were alive with laughter, flashing lights, and the scent of popcorn and funnel cakes drifting through the air.

Liam practically bounced beside you, his little hand gripping yours as his wide eyes took in everything—the booths, the games, the towering cotton candy stand.

“Mom! Bouncy house!” he gasped, tugging at your arm before breaking into a sprint toward the inflatable castle.

You chuckled, following after him as he disappeared into the chaos of children leaping and tumbling inside. Just as you were scanning the crowd to make sure he was safe, your gaze landed on a familiar figure near one of the game booths.

Melissa stood with her arms crossed, watching a few students attempt the classic ring toss. Even in the chaos of the festival, she carried herself with her usual steady presence, but when she spotted you, something softened.

You lifted a hand in greeting, and she nodded, stepping closer as you approached.

“Hey there,” she said, her voice easy, familiar.

“Hey,” you returned, then glanced toward Liam. You reached out, tapping the top of his head. “Say hello to Ms. Melissa, bud.”

Liam, still vibrating with excitement, barely spared her a glance before calling out a rushed, “Hi!” and darting back toward the bouncy house.

Melissa chuckled, following his movements with her eyes before turning back to you. “He’s got a lot of energy, huh?”

“You could say that,” you sighed, shaking your head fondly. “Though I have a feeling Barbara put extra sugar in his cotton candy.”

“I wouldn’t put it past her,” Melissa smirked. “I remember when my niece was that age—she’d run in circles for hours until she just dropped.”

You laughed, watching as Liam scrambled out of the bouncy house, only to run straight toward another booth. “Yeah, that sounds about right.”

For a moment, the two of you simply stood there, watching the festival unfold. The distant sound of carnival games, the squeals of kids racing around, the occasional burst of laughter from the dunk tank—it all blended into the kind of atmosphere that felt... nice. Easy.

Melissa shifted beside you, clearing her throat. “So, you ready for your big moment?”

You blinked, turning toward her. “My what?”

Her smirk widened. “Dunk tank. You did sign up, didn’t you?”

Oh. Right.

Melissa’s laughter was low, warm. “I gotta say... I wouldn’t mind taking a shot myself.”

There was something teasing in her voice, something playful yet unreadable in the way she looked at you just then. It sent a quick flicker of heat up your spine.

You huffed, crossing your arms. “You just want an excuse to dunk me, don’t you?”

Melissa shrugged, her grin near smug. “Maybe.”

You shook your head, suppressing a smile. “Alright, Schemmenti. Let’s see if you’ve got the aim to back that up.”

And with that, she tilted her head, that glint in her eye growing a little stronger. “Oh, you’re on.”

The fair had only just begun, and somehow, you already knew this was going to be a night to remember.

The dunk tank loomed ahead, its bright blue water shimmering under the festival lights. You exhaled, stepping up onto the small platform as the attendant gestured for you to take a seat on the bench above the water. The crowd had started to gather, eager to see who would be the first to take the plunge.

And Melissa? She was standing just a few feet away, arms crossed, a knowing smirk tugging at the corner of her lips.

You shook your head at her, settling onto the bench.

"Last chance to back out, Y/N," she called, dripping with mock bravado.

"Not a chance," you shot back. As you settled, you saw Liam, whom you had left right by the stairs near the tank, approach. He tugged at the hem of Melissa’s sleeve.

Liam.

Melissa glanced down, her smirk fading just a little as she took in the worried expression on his tiny face. His dark eyes flickered between you and the water below, his lower lip jutting out ever so slightly.

“She’s gonna fall,” Liam said, his voice barely above a whisper, uncertainty coloring each syllable. His body inched closer to Melissa, as if she was his safest place in the world right now.

Melissa blinked, caught off guard by the concern in his voice. She crouched down so they were at eye level, softening in a way you didn’t see often—like she was something safe, too. "Yeah, bud," she murmured, a small, amused smile tugging at the corner of her lips. "That’s kinda the whole point."

Liam’s brows furrowed, his small face scrunching up in protest. “She is going to get hurt." His voice wavered, and his little fingers twisted in the fabric of Melissa’s sleeve, holding onto her like she was the only thing keeping his fear at bay.

Something flickered across Melissa’s face—something almost fragile, like the way glass catches the light just before it shatters. Her gaze flickered to you, still perched on the bench above the water, then back to Liam. She hesitated for only a second before reaching out, gently prying his fingers from her sleeve and wrapping her own around his tiny hand instead.

"Hey, kiddo," she said, her voice softer than you’d ever heard it. "She’s gonna be okay. It’s just water, promise. No sharks, no monsters, just a whole lotta splashing." She gave his hand a gentle squeeze, warm and reassuring. "You trust me, don’t you?"

Liam chewed on his lip, eyes wide and glassy as he looked up at her. And then, slowly, he gave a tiny nod, stepping just a little closer. "You won’t let anything bad happen?"

Melissa swallowed, her jaw tightening just a fraction before she gave him a small, sure nod. "Not on my watch, buddy."

And that? That did something to you.

The way he clung to her. The way she held his hand like it was the most natural thing in the world, like she didn’t even have to think about it. Like she knew exactly what he needed to hear.

It made something deep in your chest ache.

You were still watching, still caught in the warmth of the moment, when—

CLANG.

The target slammed inward.

And before you could even react, the seat beneath you disappeared.

Cold water rushed up to meet you, stealing the air from your lungs. The crowd erupted into cheers as you surfaced, sputtering, your soaked clothes clinging to your skin.

"Liam, see?" Melissa said, squeezing his hand again and nodding toward you. "Told ya—no sharks, just a human fish."

Liam laughed. His little body shook with laughter, but he still watched you with those wide, worried eyes. He tugged at Melissa’s hand, urgency in his tiny voice. "She’s cold!"

Melissa’s gaze snapped back to you and slowly, her lips quirked into something between amusement and something deeper—something that made your stomach flip. Tilting her head just slightly as her eyes dragged over you, slow and deliberate. The amusement was still there, sure, but there was something else beneath it—something warmer, something that made heat crawl up your spine despite the cold water dripping from your skin.

Her gaze traced the way your soaked shirt clung to you, the fabric nearly transparent against your skin. Her lips parted, just a little, as if she was about to say something but decided against it, opting instead to let her eyes do all the talking.

A drop of water trailed down your neck, slipping past your collarbone, and you swore you saw her breath hitch as her gaze flickered lower, following the slow descent of the water like she couldn’t help herself.

Liam shifted beside her, still clutching her hand, but Melissa barely moved, still caught up in whatever was running through her head. Her eyes flicked back up to yours, and for a moment you could’ve sworn you saw something unguarded in them. Something heated.

And then, just as quickly as it came, she smirked.

"Yeah," she murmured, voice lower, rougher than before. "Guess we gotta get you warmed up, huh?"

The playful teasing between you and Melissa hung in the air, almost as if the fair had faded into the background. All that mattered now was the undeniable shift in the way she looked at you—the way the temperature around you seemed to change with just a glance.

Liam tugged at her hand again, his small voice cutting through the moment. "Can we go get hot cocoa now, Ms. Melissa? I don't want her to stay in the cold anymore."

You couldn’t help but chuckle, wiping the water from your eyes as you stood, feeling the weight of your wet clothes clinging to your skin. Melissa, still caught in the lingering heat of the exchange, cleared her throat and quickly pulled herself together, her focus returning to the present moment.

++++++++

The fairgrounds were beginning to empty, the vibrant energy that had filled the air now winding down into quiet whispers and the occasional burst of laughter from the last few lingering visitors. The bright lights of the carnival slowly dimmed, and the once-bustling stands stood empty, waiting to be packed up for the night.

You had slipped away to change into dry clothes, the soaked fabric of your shirt now replaced with something comfortable and warm. As you made your way back, you found Melissa and Liam sitting on a nearby bench, his small hand still wrapped in hers. She was looking down at him, her expression soft but tinged with a quiet kind of affection that made your heart ache in the best way.

Liam’s voice broke through your thoughts. "You keep me safe," he said, his little face serious despite the sleepiness starting to cloud his features. His small fingers clutched at her hand, tugging her closer with the earnestness only a four-year-old could muster. "You come with me," he added, looking up at her like she was his whole world.

Melissa’s eyes softened at the request, and she looked at him with something more tender than you’d seen before. For a moment, you could almost feel her heart beat a little faster. “Is that so?” she asked quietly, her voice warm and amused, though there was hesitation in her expression, a rare vulnerability that slipped through the cracks.

Liam nodded fiercely, his tiny body wriggling with energy. “Yeah! You keep me safe.” His voice grew louder, a little more desperate, as if unsure she’d believe him.

Melissa glanced up at you then, her gaze catching yours for just a moment before returning to Liam. Her smile was soft but reassuring. "Alright, kid," she said, crouching down to his level. “But only ‘cause you asked so nicely.”

Liam’s face lit up, a bright grin spreading across his features as he tugged at her hand again, leading her toward the haunted house. “YES!!” he said, excitement bubbling over as he bounced a few steps ahead.

You followed behind them, your heart warming at the sight of the two of them, their hands linked as Liam chattered about the haunted house. It was a simple moment, but one heavy with meaning. Melissa, usually so guarded, letting a little boy in, allowing herself to care for him so openly. It was raw, unguarded.

When you reached the entrance of the haunted house, you could see Liam’s hesitation. His small body stiffened, his eyes wide with a mix of fear and excitement. He squeezed Melissa’s hand tighter.

“Don’t worry, bud,” she said, her voice low and steady, soothing the jitters that had taken over his little body. "I’m right here, okay? I keep you safe."

He nodded, but his grip tightened, his tiny fingers digging into her skin as they stepped into the dimly lit maze. The loud noises and eerie figures caused Liam to flinch, burying his face in Melissa’s side. But Melissa, ever the steady presence, barely flinched. She just kept walking, her free hand resting protectively on his back, offering him comfort with every step.

You stayed close behind, watching as Melissa handled the situation with ease. The way she comforted him without saying much at all—just by being there—made something in your chest tighten. 

By the time the haunted house ended, Liam was visibly exhausted, his excitement replaced by a quiet weariness. He leaned heavily against Melissa, his head lolling as he tried to keep his eyes open, but it was clear he couldn’t fight it anymore. The day had caught up to him.

Melissa looked down at him, her expression softening even further. "Hey, champ," she whispered, brushing a stray lock of hair from his forehead. "You good to make it back to the car?"

Liam barely responded, his tiny body sagging in her arms. You could see he was out of energy, his eyelids heavy as he drifted into the kind of exhausted sleep only a four-year-old could manage.

You couldn’t help but smile softly, stepping closer. "Poor guy," you murmured, brushing a gentle hand over his curly hair. "He barely made it through the night."

Melissa huffed a quiet laugh, but the sound was low and tender. "Yeah, I guess all that running around finally caught up to him," she said, glancing down at him with a quiet kind of affection.

You offered to help, but Melissa just shook her head, her tone firm but gentle. "I got him," she said, lifting him effortlessly into her arms. His head rested against her shoulder, his body soft and limp in her grasp. She looked down at him for a moment, her expression softening even more before glancing up at you. "Let’s get him to the car, huh?"

You nodded, falling into step beside her as she carried Liam through the quiet fairgrounds. The sound of your footsteps echoed in the stillness, and for a moment, it felt like the whole world had narrowed down to just the three of you—Liam, wrapped safely in Melissa’s arms, and you, trailing along beside them.

As you reached the car, the weight of the moment settled heavily on your chest. Watching Melissa with Liam—seeing the way she cared for him, how she took on the responsibility so naturally—was a reminder of just how deeply she could connect with people, even when she didn’t always let them see it.

She was still holding Liam, his tiny form curled up in her arms, eyes shut tight as he snored softly. "Think we can get him into the car without waking him up?" you asked, your voice a little quieter than usual, the weight of everything you were feeling settling deep inside you.

Melissa smiled, her eyes soft with affection as she nodded. "We’ll make it work." And she did, gently placing Liam in the car seat and buckling him in with the kind of care that made your chest tighten again.

When she finally closed the car door, she stood there for a moment, her eyes lingering on Liam through the window. Then, with a soft sigh, she turned toward you, meeting your gaze.

"You okay?" she asked, her voice steady, but there was something unspoken in the way she looked at you.

You nodded, the weight of the night settling in. "Yeah. Just... a long night."

Her eyes softened again, and she gave you a small, knowing smile. "It was, wasn’t it?" she said quietly. And for a brief moment, neither of you spoke—just stood there, together, the cool night air surrounding you as the last echoes of the festival faded away.

++++++++

As you pulled away from the fairgrounds, the car lights cutting through the quiet night, you couldn’t help but glance in your rearview mirror. There, standing by her car, was Melissa. Her figure was small against the vast, empty lot, but her presence felt bigger somehow—her arms crossed, watching you drive off.

Even from this distance, you could tell she was smiling, her eyes soft and almost...content. The sight of her watching you left a flutter in your chest, and for a moment, you thought about rolling down the window, calling out something, anything. But instead, you just kept driving, the sound of the engine filling the space between you.

As you made your way home, the drive felt longer than usual, the thoughts of Melissa still lingering in your mind. What was she thinking? Was she still smiling like that? You couldn’t be sure, but you hoped that smile stayed with her.

Once you finally made it home, you set about getting settled, the events of the night playing in your mind like a film. The sounds of the fair, the warmth of the interactions with Liam and Melissa—it had been a good night, a night that felt... different. Something about it had left an imprint on you, something you didn’t quite understand yet but didn’t want to shake off.

Back at Melissa’s place, the evening was winding down. She took a slow breath as she closed the door behind her, stepping into the cool stillness of her living room. The lights were dim, and the house felt quieter now, less full of the laughter and energy of the fair. She kicked off her shoes, her body feeling the exhaustion from the day, and made her way to the bathroom.

The warm water from the shower quickly soothed her aching muscles, washing away the tension that had built up from the long day. As the steam filled the small space, Melissa let her thoughts drift, the events of the night replaying in her mind. The smile you had given her as you drove off, the way the evening had felt so… easy. It had been a while since she’d felt so at ease.

The water cascaded over her, the pressure of the shower head pounding gently against her skin, and Melissa closed her eyes, letting herself relax. Her mind lingered on you. What were you doing now? Was the night weighing on you too, or was she just projecting? She thought about texting you, but the uncertainty of whether it was too soon held her back.

The warmth of the water began to calm her, easing the nagging tension in her shoulders. She stepped out of the shower, wrapping herself in a towel and running her fingers through her damp hair. The silence of her apartment seemed to heighten her senses, and she found herself thinking about you again. She couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted, something important.

After a few moments, she made her way back to the bedroom. Her phone sat on the nightstand, and the urge to reach for it was almost too strong to ignore. She picked it up and hovered her thumb over the screen for a moment. It felt natural to want to check in with you, to ask if you’d made it home okay, but was it too much?

The hesitation lasted only a moment before the decision felt right.

She swiped her phone open and typed quickly.

Melissa: Hey, just wanted to check—made it home okay? How’s the kid?

The words felt simple, almost too simple, but it felt right. She set the phone back down on her nightstand and let out a long breath, sinking further into her bed as she waited for your reply.

A soft ping from her phone broke the silence, and she reached for it quickly. It was your reply.

You: Yeah, just got in. Liam’s wiped out. He’s already crashed for the night.

Melissa smiled as she read your message, her heart warming at the thought of Liam falling asleep so quickly after all the excitement. She typed her reply, fingers moving more slowly this time.

Melissa: Glad to hear it. He’s a trooper. Hope you’re doing alright too.

There was a brief pause as she waited, her thumb hovering over her phone as she considered sending something more. Should she? Was it too much? She settled for something simple.

Melissa: Sleep well. Catch you tomorrow.

She hit send before she could second-guess herself, then settled back into the pillow, her heart beating a little faster. There was something nice about this—something real and simple, the kind of connection she hadn't allowed herself to have in a long time.

A few moments passed, and just as Melissa started to relax, another ping sounded.

You: Thanks, you too. Tonight was really nice.  

The words brought a soft smile to her face. She leaned back into her pillow, her thumb sliding across the screen with ease.

Melissa: Yeah, it was. I’m glad we pulled it off!

Another ping followed, and Melissa’s breath caught when she saw your name.

You: The students were having a lot of fun. Liam did too.

Melissa: I have never seen a kid that excited in my life. I had fun too. 

You: Me too. Maybe we could do it again sometime? Just us. No pressure.

Melissa’s pulse quickened, and she pressed the phone to her chest for a second, trying to steady her heart. She wasn’t sure if you meant it the way it sounded, but it definitely felt real.

Melissa: I’d like that.

She hit send before her mind could get too loud. After a few moments of stillness, she set her phone down again, feeling the weight of the conversation on her chest. A quiet, reassuring feeling filled her.

You: Yeah… Sleep well.

Melissa: You too. Sweet dreams.

Melissa sank into the sheets, closing her eyes, her mind replaying the conversation. Tonight felt... different. Maybe it was a step forward. Maybe it was just the beginning of something, something she wasn’t ready to fully understand yet but didn’t want to let go of.

[kittenfangirl20]

Adam walked over to this tree very interested it until he got a closer look at it. Even without the glowing red apples Adam could tell that it was the tree that once bore the Forbidden Fruit. It hurt to breathe seeing the tree that caused humanity so much trouble. He placed his hand on his throat feeling bump that was the piece of fruit still lodged in his throat that almost choked him to death. Before Adam knew what his was doing he screamed and he hit the tree drawing blood from his knuckles. His claws dug into the bark of the tree.

Adam: FUCK YOU!!!!!!!

He hated this tree so much and all that it stood for, the downfall of humanity and worst of all his own failure. He couldn’t keep Eve safe from the tree and the fruit it once bore. It was because of this that Cain had killed Abel. They should have taken it all out on Adam instead of punishing Eve and later Cain. He hated himself more than anything, they said he was supposed to be a protector and he couldn’t even protect his own family. The existence of Hell and Sinners was proof of his failure.

Lucifer: ADAM!!!!!!

The fallen angel pulled Adam from the tree. Adam’s eyes were glowing orbs of gold like his mask had.

Adam: Why did that tree have to be in Eden, why did you and Lilith tempt Eve when she did nothing wrong? Why am I such a fucking failure?

Lucifer: Adam, look at me.

Lucifer had to use his powers of hypnosis on Adam now.

Lucifer: This isn’t your fault Adam, we were the ones who failed you.

Adam: Why does it feel like I failed everyone?

Lucifer: Because I didn’t realize how much I hurt you. Adam you need to sleep, let only good dreams wash over you. While you sleep only think of things that would make you happy.

Adam’s eyes grew heavy and the urge to sleep became strong. Suddenly he fell asleep and Lucifer caught him in his arms.

@things-arent-what-they-seem66

Hypnosis Au

Lucifer needed to find Adam, the angel had fallen and he wasn't adjusting well to life in Hell. He acted like it was a mistake, that he didn't belong here and that heaven would right the wrong.

But as time passed and Adam remained in Hell the gravity of the situation set in and he started to actually freak out.

Like today for example, Adam had been doing some prep work for dinner, staying at the hotel meant he had chores. He didn't like that one bit, Adam felt like he should get to do what he wants during the day said that's what Angel does.

Charlie explained that Angel has a job and he doesn't. All he did was roll his eyes and stomp away.

It was when he cut his finger showing that he had deep red blood instead of golden angelic blood in his veins did everything click for him.

Adam freaked out, when Charlie checked on him he pushed her out of the way and ran out the hotel's front door.

That's what Lucifer was doing now, looking for him. He was going to check the only place he could that Adam would go.

Heavens Embassy.

Sure enough when he got there the lobby was trashed, raging was going on in the other room.

Adam: PETER YOU COCK SUCKER!! I KNOW YOU CAN HEAR ME GET SERA ON THE FUCKING LINE!!!!!!

Sera wasn't going to take his meeting request, she was too busy but Adam was too worked up.

Lucifer: Adam? Hey, calm down okay?

Adam turned and glared: YOU!! STAY THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT!!!

He started throwing things at the devil and Lucifer knew he wasn't going to listen to reason. So he resorted to the last thing he could do, he'd have to grab ahold of Adam and look him in the eyes.

Lucifer would have to hypnotize him.

Lucifer: Adam, look at me.

Adam was in the midst of throwing something across the room when he heard the command, he felt the urge to listen to him.

Adam: Ok.

Lucifer: Good, now put that down and relax.

Adam did so, truthfully Lucifer felt bad doing this. But Adam was so upset and it upset to see him like this.

Lucifer: Let me hold you.

Lucifer held out his arms to Adam and the fallen first man just went into Lucifer’s arms as Lucifer hold him. He knew that he wasn’t going to use the hypnosis to make Adam do something sexual or violent. Just to calm him down.

Lucifer: Tell why you were so upset.

Adam looked up with tear filled eyes.

Adam: I didn’t think I would ever fall. I thought I was doing good. Everyone said I was doing good and then I fall like this.

Lucifer couldn’t help but feel bad hearing Adam talk like this, he just to not fail the people he cared for. He could even see that Lucifer’s opinion of Adam still mattered to him.

Lucifer: You are still good.

Adam: Then why did I fall?

Lucifer: Because others failed you.

@things-arent-what-they-seem66

[egophiliac]

SILVER EMERGENCYRESD THE LORE N O W BEFORE YOU GET SPOILED

me: well, it's 3 AM and the update is out, might as well play a little as long as I can't sleep.

twst: :)

me: it's probably just a short filler bit anyway!

twst: >:)

[s0fter-sin]

rewatching s1 and in ep2 w*ndigo, dean makes a joke about not bringing provisions into the woods just to pull out a bag of peanut butter m&m’s and stick with me here, it’s why the later seasons’ “goofy dean” loses me

this moment is clearly a joke but if you think about it too much, it also makes some sense; a family size bag of peanut m&m’s is calorie dense and even the high sugar is good to keep you moving which they need on an overnight hunt. it also shows how due to their upbringing, they’ve had to eat lower quality food, things they always had access to that was cheap and also in bulk

what does dean eating ghost pepper jerky then tipping water on himself exist for other than to be a cringy joke? what does smelling old chinese food, testing to see if it's still good then shaking his head with cabbage hanging out his mouth when it isn't serve? it's just to make him look stupid and contrast sam's healthy/clean diet (and superiority but that’s another conversation) which has always existed but it used to be nuanced and natural

we see dean as a child give up the food he wanted to eat so sam could eat it. (“i’m sick of spaghetti-os,” “you’re the one who wanted them,” … “i want lucky charms!” “… there’s only enough for one bowl and i haven’t had any yet!” proceeds to give them to sam, 1x18) we know he hustled and stole food to ensure sam ate. (“so, what’d he take?” “get this- peanut butter and bread.” 9x07)

we also see throughout the early seasons dean teasing sam about his salad or healthy choice while he eats some form of burger or other fast food (or notably, cheerfully eating prison food that sam won’t touch, 2x19). it's typical sibling teasing but it also shows that it isn't new for sam to eat like that and for dean to know he eats like that

sam being picky isn't just a character trait they chose for him, it's a result of how dean raised him; he raised him to like and want healthy food and be food secure enough to reject food he didn't want

but dean eats anything he is given and seeks out unhealthy - cheap, plentiful, filling - food

he is the opposite of picky to the point of it being a consistent bit; they show him multiple times eating when it's socially frowned upon to do so eg. questioning a grieving victim when they're trying to be discreet (1x14, 2x15, 2x18)

a similar moment to the chinese food is in 4x19; dean wakes up in the car while sam brushes his teeth outside and is hungry. sam says there's a sandwich in the backseat, dean smells it and recoils bc it's an old tuna sandwich. the moment is funny on its own but it also exists as a comparison of their lives to adam's; he has a loving mother, goes to school and importantly, a steady stable childhood

it’s a joke with a purpose

it also supports dean's food insecurity; he wakes up and is immediately hungry, enough to complain about it and seek out food before anything else

dean is always hungry bc he never has access to nutritionally rich foods bc he got used to using the money he earned to buy sam's more expensive food. he got used to his cheaper, denser foods and grew up with (and continues to live with) intermittent access to said foods. think of how long it takes to drive from one state to another; how many hours it can take to see another town that offers food, if you arrive at a reasonable enough time for anything to be open. also think how they can’t keep any food beyond what fits in an esky; nothing that needs defrosting, nothing can be heated up. it’s bags and jars and take out for as long as they can trust it

then they get the bunker which has its own kitchen

dean even describes himself as "nesting" when he decorates his room, something he hasn't had since he was four years old, and he uses said kitchen to cook a burger from scratch that he is proud of. he is food secure for the first time in his life and it shows in how often he cooks for both himself and sam

so these moments where they have him acting goofy regarding food are no longer character driven and only exist as a joke which is why they come across as cringy and out of character compared to similar earlier moments

a lot of my issues with dean's characterisation started when they introduced the bunker. the argument can and is made that the reason these jokes happen is bc he feels safe in the bunker, that bc he now has a home he can relax and unmask but that still doesn't feel sufficient. they crank up these sillier moments for both of them, giving them a sort of playing house comedy vibe of two roommates with completely different personalities but it doesn't feel like an authentic progression. it feels forced; an attempt at humour for humour's sake

food stopped being an informed part of their characters and their trauma and instead became flanderised; sam is the judgy vegetarian health nut and dean is his borderline slovenly carnivore counterpart

[greensagephase]

@ridiculous-hibiscus Awwww, Hibi!! 🥹🥹

No, seriously, the vibes are so warm! It's just so incredibly cozy. I swear it feels like a still from one of those Christmas movies (a romcom xmas movie perhaps? 🤭🥹) because of the vibes. You captured the energy so beautifully!

And about the background, I could see that it looked different from the rest, but I didn't want to assume it was a photograph beneath it because either way, I loved the vision you went with. You've made me realize that I could actually try and use this method in the future as I continue my own drawing journey, so thank you for teaching me that!

Also, omg, I love that you used the dancing hearts (using 'dancing hearts' alone is chef's kiss, I love that!) as a way to foreshadow that! Like, that's so SWEET and THOUGHTFUL. Thank you for sharing your thought process behind it! I already loved the detail alone and now knowing the reasoning, even more! Also, I did notice that the tree was a little bare, but I suspected it was because they were in the middle of decorating it and about to make their clear ornaments :') (I wish we could do that for real with Miguel *sighs*)

Hibi... My heart can't take this, but I understand what you mean and I appreciate you sharing it!😭 I just sat here, observing the pic of the room (the before) for a few minutes and honestly (maybe I'm extra and too emotional), I felt an overwhelming loneliness looking at it. It feels like I'm looking at one of those fake rooms in furniture stores, void of any life. It's exactly what life was like for Miguel before Dulzura! And then looking at the after... The same space screams WARMTH, PEACE, COMFORT -- HOME -- and all because of one single person who has changed Miguel's life forever (I'm not ok right now 😭).

HIBI, HIBI, HIBI, HIBI!!! You want to make me cry, don't you? You think of me as Dulzura?

That is SO SWEET -- I'M ABOUT TO CRY, HIBI, BUT HAPPY TEARS! 🥹🥹💖💖 It means so much to me that you tried to represent me and that you think of me as Dulzura! Thank you for that and for sharing the fact with me, also, it's not strange at all! It's very kind and thoughtful of you. 💕 Also, thank you for the sweet compliments! 🥺

Girl, you nailed the moment so wonderfully! And Miguel!🥰🥰 I just want to cuddle with him on the couch (still)! Omg, I'm always so interested in learning how people imagine Miguel's scent, so thank you for sharing that! I'm gonna need to go and find something similar to what you've described, but I feel like I'm imagining it decently and if it's how I'm imagining it...

I just know he smells AMAZING! There's no doubt about that!

Awww, hehe! I'm touched that my response made you happy! It's always so sweet knowing I've at least made one person happy with me being here on tumblr🥹

Also, I try, Hibi! I don't want to disrespect anyone, so that's why I always ask artists first!💕

Wait, a possible fanart of the ice skating scene...?

That would be SO SWEET SJKDFJKDJOSI I would literally scream at the top of my lungs because that's literally my second favorite scene of this chapter! I would be over the moon, but no pressure at all, pookie, and please take care of yourself first!! 🫵🏼😤 I am honored that you've drawn this beautiful fanart and even considering doing another one, like, THANK YOU!!!😭

Thank you SO MUCH, pookie! This fanart truly means so much to me!🥹 I hope you're having a great evening so far and that you have a wonderful and restful weekend! 🫶🏼💖

p.s. I've never been in one either, hehe, I just did some research to get an idea of the layout. It's funny how many things we writers look up for our fics sometimes.💀 And awww, I swear you're too sweet with all these compliments, I'm seriously about to cry! But oof, I'm just so grateful to be able to write and share my writing, and that you guys enjoy it! It's my honor, truly ❤️

Hiii, Alondra! 👋 🥰 I finally got some time due to a break from work to make some fanart for NC! This is inspired by Ch 22 (tbh, there are so many art-worthy moments in that chapter, but I only have so much time) 🥹!

Note: I know they don't actually have both trees up in the same room, but I found a little stamp on IbisPaintX that looked holographic to me, so I included it to show you how I pictured the futuristic holographic tree with the little ornaments.

Also: I loved how Miguel's white cable knit sweater turned out. Still learning to paint and render, but our muses Dulzura and Miguel are helping me! 💞😍

Hope you enjoy this as much as I enjoyed reading your work, as always ❤️💙❤️💙

Love, Hibi 🫂

Hibi! What if I cry?!?!

THIS IS SO LOVELY, HIBI!!! 🥹🥹💖 The way the living room looks so COZY and WARM! I seriously love the way you decorated the space; from the couch to the coffee table to the curtains and art on the wall. The trees! I adore both so much and I love how you imagine the holographic tree! It looks so cute! I actually really love the little hearts effect, which I hadn’t thought about before, but would make so much sense for people to be able to add effects to their tree like raining hearts or stars, or something of the sort. That detail and the tree overall are so cute and cozy, Hibi! I appreciate you sharing your vision of it! 💕💕

Also, is this lovely girl your spidersona, or you? I know you said in a comment you've been struggling with your spidersona, too, so I'm curious if this is her, or it's you! Either way, she's so pretty and looks so sweet!🥹 I also love the expression on her face; she’s so immersed with the clear ornament and totally oblivious to the flustered Miguel at her side after calling him cute, haha!!🥹

Which by the way, FLUSTERED MIGUEL!!! AAAAAAAAA, I LOVE HIM SCRATCHING THE BACK OF HIS HEAD, HIS WIDE EYES, AND THE BLUSH ON HIS CHEEKS — SCREAMING FROM THE ROOFTOP!! And the freaking WHITE CABLE KNIT SWEATER — HIBI, YOU’VE BLESSED US!! 🥹🙏🏼 He looks so, so, so cute, handsome, toasty, and cuddly. 🥺😩 I just want to snuggle on the coach with him, head pressed to his chest and letting our warmth become one while I smell his comforting scent, augh! It turned out amazing, friend, you should 100% be happy (more than happy!!) with how the sweater turned out! It truly looks so cozy. I also want to talk about Miguel in his socks… WHY IS HE SO CUTE ?? 😭😭😭 It's such a small detail, but I feel like it further shows how comfy and open he is with Dulzura in their home (as best friends🙂). He just looks so freaking homey!🥺🥺

Also, the two coffee mugs! This is literally me when you guys include them in your art:

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THIS PRECIOUS FANART, HIBI!!! I swear it makes me want to go and read part 22 and pretend it's December and not March because the vibes in your art are pure peace, coziness, tenderness, and warmth!! ✨️🎄🎁🥹 It means so much to me that you drew this on your free time, too, seriously, thank you!! 😭🥺 I most definitely enjoy and LOVE this fanart, pookie! There's no way I don't!

I want to ask :)) Is it okay if I link this post to the NC fanart post and tag you on it? Please let me know if you're OK with that! I would love to add this beautiful fanart and you to the post! 🥰🥹

Thank you so much, Hibi! As always, I'm so grateful and honored that my fic inspires you guys to draw and that you feel comfortable to share it with me! 🥹 I swear, just thinking about it makes me want to cry each time. 😭I'm sending you a big and warm virtual hug right now!! Please take care and rest my dear, Hibi! 🫂💖

Alondra❤️

p.s. the penthouse is such a vibe, Hibi. Wishing I was there right now with our favorite Spider-Man 🥹💕

[gomzdrawfr]

Gomzzzzz hello!!! I’ve been lurking in your blog for like, over a year now and I just wanted to say, your art is so freaking amazing and cute....the big cheeks!! I’ve always struggled with confidence in my own work, to the point where sharing anything felt almost impossible (stare at my stuff for hours only to delete them) But seeing you do your thing? I decided to try posting too. Okay it took a while but when I did I was fully expecting it to get like… 2 likes, max. But then YOU reblogged it, and my phone basically exploded. I’m not even kidding—my notifications were wild, and for the first time, I actually felt proud of something I made. It might sound silly and you probably don't know which art of mine you reblog but it really hyped me up and frankly...i found back the feel to draw again. I can't thank you enough for doing what you do, for making cod space a better and nicer place (your reblogs on others are always soooo positive and top tier)

Anyway, I’m keeping myself anonymous because, uhhh, social anxiety vibes and don’t want to overwhelm you;w; but I hope you know how much you’ve impacted people like me just by being yourself. I’m wishing you the absolute best for 2025!! zapping you with my beams to give you braincells for your school stuff

you deserve all the good things fr

-🦈

🥹

CryING iN THE CLUB— (my room)

Shark anon, thank you for the sweetest words, I really needed this today…and I’m so proud of you for finding back the love to draw again. I hope 2025 will be a blast for you too man!! Remember to take rest and have a good year ahead

[inkedhorror]

oh when did that happen...

[jesse-cosay]

I just realized I'm gonna have to start posting art here again. Devastating.

[chickenbyday]

.

[kurooh]

MATCH MY FREAK ★ JUJUTSU KAISEN

⊹₊˚. featuring gojo satoru, geto suguru, nanami kento, fushiguro toji, & kamo choso tryin’ to keep up with their freak of a girlfriend.

warnings. 18+ content — mdni, fem! reader, hair pulling, overstimulation, rough sex, oral, passing out, spitting, some degradation, squirting, public sex, light slapping, choking. | 3.4k words of FILTH

xoxo, juno. needed characterization practice loll. comment & rb if you enjoyed <33

GOJO SATORU # matches you

“aw, you’re so cute when you’re slutting yourself out for my fucking cock, baby,” satoru coos, lips trailing over your pebbled nipples while his tip teases your messy cunt. it was a mistake, deciding to play a stupid game of chicken with him—the gist of the game was to tease one another, and see who’d give up first.

you’d overestimated yourself just a little; you both ended up fully naked, with satoru on top of you and unwilling to let you go so you could make a fair move. but of course, you didn’t want to give up, and neither did he—it doesn’t even matter, not when he’s winning the game like this.

you bite down on your lower lip, weakly closing your thighs in an attempt to push him back to even out the playing field. “oh, is this the first sign of defeat, baby?”

“absolutely not,” you hiss, brows knitting when he tosses your thighs apart and nudges his tip inside you. “you cheated, i can’t even make a fair move.”

“all’s fair in a game of chicken and sex. don’t complain, ‘s not my fault you overestimated yourself.” satoru’s snicker has your heels digging into his lower back as you force him to push his cock inside you; his expression melts into one of pure euphoria as he sinks in, inch by inch.

“how’s that, satoru?” you purr, satisfied. he glares at you, azure eyes hooded and heavy with lust; without even slipping out of you, he flips you over onto your stomach and presses your head into the sheets. beneath the two of you, the bed groans, creaking growing loud as he moves his hips, slamming into you so hard the headboard bangs against the wall.

“got some nerve . . thinking you could show me how to fuck, tsk,” he shakes his head, punctuating his words with harsh thrusts.

“fuck!” you sob, fingers scrabbling for purchase on his waist to pause him for a moment. you’re still thinking about the game, but satoru’s aching for more after having been teased for so long.

“give up and just focus on cumming for me, babygirl,” he grunts into your ear, savoring the gasps you can’t seem to stop letting out. his balls slap into your clit, and the room fills with the filthy sound of fucking—skin against skin, groaning, and begging.

you can’t even form one thought about being competitive when satoru’s fucking every single thing out of your head. “r-right there, toru,” you wail, arching upwards and pressing your ass against him.

satoru gifts it with a smack that rings through the room, then lifts your lips up and doesn’t even give you a second to adjust to the new angle that has you taking his cock both deeper and faster. just when you think you can’t take any more, satoru slips a hand beneath your body and plants his palm firmly against your lower stomach.

“eh, what’re you doing?” wordlessly, satoru draws his hips back until only his tip is left inside you, then presses down with his hand before canting his hips forward. it’s too much—you all but scream as he mercilessly plunges into you again and again.

your body is slick with sweat and only growing hotter by the moment; the sound of his rough panting coupled with the occasional whine he lets out only has you burying your face deeper into the sheets.

satoru clicks his tongue, voice shaking ever so slightly. “arch it for me, baby—fuckkk, that’s perfect.”

he’s delirious with pleasure, eyes rolling back into his head while his face only flushes a darker pink from the heat of it all. that was the thing about him — he could always dish it out, and take it, but not for long.

“i-i’m gonna cum,” and his voice splinters into a whine at the end of his sentence, spurring you on to fuck him back. you’re tossing your hips back onto him, bouncing your ass so deliciously he wants to take a bite. “shit, i’m gonna cum.”

“give it to me, satoru,” you manage, turning back at the right moment. icy blue eyes connect with yours and he uselessly blinks away the tears that are gathered on his waterline, only for a few to spill over and run down his cheeks. “cum inside me, make it yours, toru.”

with a groan of your name, satoru’s abs clench as he spills inside you, cock twitching against your cervix. he presses down harder on your lower stomach, drawing out your own orgasm.

“just like that, toru—” you interrupt yourself with a moan as your pussy gushes all over, spraying onto his pelvis and cock.

“that’s my girl,” satoru groans, lightly smacking your clit and chuckling at the way your entire body trembles in response. “by the way, the game was a tie.”

GETO SUGURU # matches you

“open. good girl,” suguru spits onto your awaiting tongue, violet eyes observing expectantly as you swallow. his spit tastes like the grape lollipop he’d been sliding between his lips on your walk around the city together. now, in the backseat of his car, he’s got you caged beneath him, gripping your jaw with one large hand.

“you’re so cute, really,” suguru says with a snort, lightly smacking at your cheek. “your idea of a date is going around and flirting as much as possible. hm, ‘s like you were trying to piss me off, end up like this in the car. you know how busy this place is, don’t you?”

“i don’t care,” you pout, tugging the hem of your shirt upwards to reveal your stomach; he doesn’t stop you as you slide your shorts halfway down, revealing the lace of the panties you’re wearing, all for him. “just touch me, sugu. please?”

“you’re so needy,” he scoffs, although his voice lilts into a willing tone as he unbuttons your shorts and inches backwards to allow you to toss your legs over his shoulders.

suguru’s dark hair is soft from the premium shampoos and conditioners he uses meticulously; half of it was tied up in a tight bun while the rest flowed freely past his shoulders. until you pulled his hair free from its ties and gathered the silky tresses between your fingers, impatiently tugging him towards the place you needed him most.

“would it kill you to be patient?” suguru’s question is genuine as he leaves open mouthed kisses on the tender skin of your inner thighs, nipping lightly to tease you a little more.

“yes,” you huff, fingers relaxing in his hair as he moves closer to your already messy pussy, reveling in the sight of his favorite snack (dessert?).

“shit,” suguru’s voice is strained as he feels arousal resonate through his entire body, causing his temperature and heart rate to spike. “you’re fucking soaked, princess.”

“what’re you waiting for?” you moan, frustrated by the sight of his tongue as he speaks, eager to feel him use it on you.

he ignores you then, opting to land a light slap to your pussy. the force of his palm coming down on your already sensitive clit sends sparks of pleasure through the entire lower half of your body, eliciting a drawn out whine from your lips.

“s-spit on it,” you manage, squirming beneath his heavy gaze. he’s practically burning holes into your skin with those pretty purple eyes of his.

“you want it realll bad, don’t you?” suguru’s tone is nothing short of mocking as he continues to stay a frustrating distance away from your cunt.

frantic for his touch, for him—your hips jolt upwards, and you cry out when he shoves them back down easily. “come on, sugu—i can handle it.”

“yeah? you won’t tap out this time?”

“god, i-i want you to ruin me.”

the admission pulls a laugh from between his lips, and yet he doesn’t waste any time diving forward to devour you. suguru’s tongue strokes up your folds, collecting your wetness at the tip before darting forward to push inside you. the action is meant to tease, to piss you off, and it does.

“d-don’t do this right now, sugu,” your fingers tighten in his hair as you pull him forward insistently.

“alright, alright,” his lips move against your lower pair and he slides his hands beneath your ass to scoop you closer. in a matter of seconds; suguru’s got his whole mouth on you now, sucking and licking and slurping obscenely. the wet noises fill the car, coupled with your shared moans.

tasting you and hearing you is all he really needs to be satisfied; the way you’re tugging on his hair is painful at first, but it quickly becomes something that has him moaning louder than you. that was his achilles heel—his hair, of all things. when pulled just right, or brushed gently, he couldn’t ever stop himself from making those low, yet pretty sounds of his. sometimes his scalp would grow sensitive after a while, and his grunts would turn into pitched moans he couldn’t control.

without a care for the many people passing by the parked car, your back arches off the backseat, tits bouncing deliciously beneath your shirt. “‘m close, sugu—just like that, d-don’t stop!”

he inserts a single finger inside you, filling you up and stretching you out nicely. then, he curls it deeply, prodding against that sweet spot of yours. he’d committed all the places that’d make you tick to memory, and this happened to be one of the top three. suguru’s cheeks darken from the heat of it all as he sucks your clit between his lips and lavishes it with attention from his tongue.

it’s as soft as silk and yet so rough as it drags up and down the swollen bud. your hips jolt upwards again and again, body thrashing as the white hot pleasure circulates throughout your insides, pooling deep in your stomach. the knot frays with each passing second, your toes curling as you hurtle closer to euphoria.

“s-suguru,” you moan. he looks up at the right time to see your eyes rolling back as you dissolve into pleasure. “‘m gonna cum, i—”

your brain short circuits as the knot inside you snaps, cunt squeezing hard around his finger and fluttering as he draws it backwards. your clit hardens beneath his tongue, and he moans from the sensation, the vibrations making you jerk.

suguru’s kind enough to let you ride it out, fingers gripping his hair to the point of potential baldness. he doesn’t mind, especially not when you squeak out a blissed out, dazed “t-thank you, sugu.”

NANAMI KENTO # doesn’t match you yet

“fucking—shit, angel, slow down,” kento swallows a whine, trying not to beg. his head tips back, strands of his blonde hair escaping their neat gel hold and falling over his forehead. “come on, you’re going too fast.”

his pleas fall on deaf ears as you smirk and lean in towards that sweet, sensitive spot on his neck that always has him seeing stars once it’s touched the right way. you giggle against his skin, leaving a few wet kisses along his neck before sinking your teeth. the bite is entirely playful, but his abs clench tightly against you and he sucks in a breath.

the couch is creaking loudly from the ferocious and aggressive way you’re riding him, hips slamming into his without a single concern for how sensitive he is from prior orgasms. uncharacteristic whines pour from his lips along with heaving pants of your name as kento frantically searches for purchase on your hips.

“what’s wrong, kento?” you purr, kissing away the drool from the corners of his lips. he’s got hearts in his eyes from the chaste action; the dichotomy between the sweetness and nastiness is so overwhelming . . kento’s fingers dig into the plush skin at your hips as he tries to stop you.

“n-no need to go so fast. let me guide you instead, princess,” but he’s really just trying to save himself the embarrassment of cumming again and sobbing from the overstimulation.

kento’s neck absorbs the soft moans you let out as he moves your hips at a much slower, languid pace. “fuck, ken, ‘s good . . little faster, please?”

he tugs his lower lip between his teeth. “be patient. just keep your eyes on me, angel.”

“but it - it’s not enough,” and your hips increase, returning to the beginning of your wild pace. the loud squelching sound of your pussy and the smacks of skin against skin drown out whatever he says next, but he seems to accept it. his cheeks are flushed and his face is covered in a sheen of sweat, and although he’d been desperate for reprieve earlier he’s accepting being ridden like a horse now.

each drag of your sticky cunt on his cock pulls plenty of sound from the both of you. this is the first time you’ve ever ridden his cock—first time anyone has ever—and all of his concerns are melting away as he fully submits to you. to your cunt—he’s completely pussydrunk.

“shit, angel,” he swallows, body bowing forward as he presses his face into your chest, allowing your tits to smack against his cheeks. “i-i’m gonna cum again—i don’t think i can anymore after this, you’ll have to—”

you tilt his chin upwards and connect your lips to his, swallowing the sounds he makes as he comes undone. you can only tremble as his cock throbs inside you, and his head falls against you weakly after he lets out a choked groan.

“ken, feels so fucking good,” you sob, fingernails raking over the taut muscles of his back. those marks will sting tomorrow under his suit, a sultry reminder of you. his breaths come in harsh pants against your skin, and he makes no move to pull away as you ride him to completion.

you’re sore, and the room is hot and smelling of nothing but sex, but you’re too close to stop. there’s no need to give a warning as your cunt spasms on him, squeezing his cock so hard he’s pushed out of you. the loss of fulfillment makes you hiss, and you nudge him lightly, helping him sit back.

kento has passed out — he’s quite literally fucked out, eyes closed and all as his chest rapidly rises and falls. of course, his swollen cock still stands at attention between his legs, tip prodding against you.

FUSHIGURO TOJI # is freakier

“run that by me again, doll. i dare ya.”

toji’s voice is low and deep as it rumbles from his chest, his raspy demand sending a hot rush of excitement right between your legs. “t-toji,” is all you can squeak out, legs spreading weakly as he tosses them to the side to make more room. “i-i said, i can’t keep going—”

fushiguro toji was not a patient man, nor was he someone who tolerated quitting or giving up in any kind of way, regardless of the situation. the idea of you attempting to tap out this early after teasing him all fucking day truly flipped a switch in his brain. it honestly set him off, like a spark of fire to a stick of dynamite.

“aw, just shut up, baby,” toji twists a hand into your hair and yanks your head backwards, leaning close to savor the sight of your arched back as well as to speak directly into your ear. his breath ghosts over the shell of your ear, making the skin hotter. “ya really thought that’d work? after all that shit you pulled today?”

“i didn’t mean to get you so worked up—” a nip to your earlobe silences you immediately, and a moan slips from between your lips, betraying the genuineness of your request.

“listen to you . . ya want to get fucked like a whore, isn’t that right?” toji hisses, rocking his hips forward and nudging his cock deeper in your tight cunt. the sensitivity is killer, but toji doesn’t care about that—it’s simply an excuse.

“you deserve this, dollface. can take one more, can’t you?”

with your hair wrapped around his fist, back forced into an arch, legs spread wide, there’s no other way you can answer him besides saying yes. always testing the waters with him, but toji would amp it up and have you crying by the time it was all over.

you let your head hang, lifting your hips to help him out; the sound of slick bodies smacking against one another coupled with his heavy panting is enough to have you whining his name, tears streaking down your cheeks. your hand slips between your legs to rub at your swollen clit since you know he’s too annoyed to do it for you.

behind you, toji arches a brow but says nothing, opting to fuck you harder. his heavy balls slam into your fingers, messing up your movements—but are they really? the impact adds a new, chaotic element to your pleasure, making you moan louder.

“fuckkk,” toji tosses his head back, beads of sweat rolling down his temples and forehead as a familiar ache in his side grows from all the exertion. “i can’t hear ya, doll . . make some noise for me.”

ever the mind reader—the words were on the tip of your tongue before his comment. “k-keep going—wanna cum for you, toji, please!”

he lets out a snicker, using his free hand to gift your ass with an especially harsh smack. “not just yet, got that? you’ll cum when i say so, doll face.”

KAMO CHOSO # matches you

“h-harder, oh my—fuck.” choso’s voice cracks at the end of his sentence, eyebrows knitting together as tears gather at the corners of his eyes. he cradles you close to his body, hands splayed on your shoulder blades as he savors the feeling of your own wrapped around his neck.

“i didn’t know you’d like this,” you say, kissing away the tears from his eyes and brushing the stray hairs from his face.

“you’re always asking me to c-choke you,” choso grunts, eyes rolling back deliciously as his cock twitches inside you.

it was true. he’d finally gotten curious enough to ask you why you enjoyed having his hands wrapped around your neck during your sexual experiences together. he’d always been interested to learn more about your kinks and interests, regardless of whatever it was. sometimes it’s a hit or miss, but oftentimes . . he enjoys letting you take the lead and show him how you like it.

you’re seated on his lap, cock buried deep and somehow not soft despite his prior orgasms, many of which are leaking from your cunt onto his thighs. choso’s never been afraid to get messy, as evidenced by the dried spit covering the bite marks and hickeys all over your neck.

“you look perfect like this, cho,” you coo, words sounding extra honeyed to his oxygen deprived brain. “you’re sure this isn’t too tight?”

ever the masochist, he nods, tilting his head to the side and offering the tender skin of his jaw and neck for you to mark up. you accept choso’s invitation, hands loosening as you pepper kisses along his sweaty skin.

he smells like his nice, soft shampoo mixed with your perfume. you can feel his racing pulse beneath your lips, and he savors the way you smile against his skin before nipping at it.

“ah, baby,” choso moans, hair slipping into his face again, “need you to—need you to ride me.”

“anything for you,” is your loving reply, spoken into the softness of his cheek, which is flushed a dark red. you rock your hips against his, hands loosening again as you indulge in the delicious sensation of being full. because of your movements, more cum pools on his thighs, hot and sticky from being inside you for so long.

“i’m..” choso gulps, an uncontrollable whimper slipping from his throat to interrupt him. “‘m gonna cum—t-take all of it for me, please baby.”

“mhm,” you moan into his neck, the fresh bite marks sticky with spit as they press against your lips. “give it to me, cho. a-all of it . . everything.”

choso cums to your words. his cock spurts ribbons of white inside you, so deep you wonder how long it’ll take to pour out, and his head falls back, entirely spent. his breaths come in heaving puffs, face flushed and sticky with sweat, but he still manages to look at you.

exhausted, he pants, “you didn’t cum, did you?”

you shake your head with a small smile, fingers grazing over where you’d been gripping his neck. “‘s okay, you’re pretty tired. maybe later?”

deep inside, you hope choso will offer to get you off anyway. a lovesick, dazed grin spreads across his lips and he lightly nudges you backwards.

“come on, lay on your back for me.”

“why, cho? you’re exh—”

choso shushes you, pushing you back more insistently. “i want to make my pretty girl cum on my tongue. lay down, please?”

[carnalcrows]

BABYSITTER - THE SALESMAN

pairing: the salesman x male reader

synopsis: When a broke college student takes a babysitting gig, he signs up for snack time and bedtime stories—but ends up with bloodstains, cryptic employers, and an unsettling crush on the kid’s disturbingly hot dad.

content warnings: 18+, bottom male reader, blackmailing, blood, anal, breeding, creampie, missionary, mating press, dubcon, mentions of kidnapping, too much plot

word count: 5.2k (good lord)

It was a typical Wednesday afternoon when you found yourself perched in the corner of the campus café, a half-empty cup of cold coffee sweating onto the table beside your laptop. Bills, tuition, and the general weight of adulthood had a way of pressing down on your shoulders, leaving you in a constant state of mild panic. You scrolled through job listings with the desperation of someone clinging to a lifeboat.  

Barista? You had already been rejected twice due to your “lack of experience.”  

Retail? They wanted you available on weekends, which wasn’t feasible with your study schedule.  

Dog walker? Allergic to fur.  

The list grew more depressing as the minutes ticked by, until one particular post caught your attention:  

"Babysitter needed. Flexible hours. Payment upon services rendered. Serious applicants only."  

There was no company name, no attached image of a smiling family, not even a hint about the age of the child you’d be babysitting. The simplicity of it screamed sketchy, but the promise of payment dangled in front of you like a carrot on a stick. 

“Desperate times,” you muttered, clicking on the post.  

The application form was equally bare-bones, asking only for your name, availability, and a short paragraph about why you wanted the job. You quickly typed something generic about being responsible and good with kids, then hit send without much hope.  

To your surprise, you received a reply almost immediately.  

"You’re hired. Start tomorrow at 3 PM. Address: [Redacted]."  

You stared at the screen, bewildered. No interview? No background check? Either this was the world’s most desperate parent, or you were walking into a scam. A friend texted you moments later, asking if you’d found a job yet, and you decided to leave out the details when you replied, 

"Yep, starting tomorrow."  

The afternoon sun was scorching as you made your way up the steps of the quaint suburban house. The place had a sort of storybook charm—a neat lawn, pastel shutters, and a small porch swing swaying lazily in the breeze. If it weren’t for the suspiciously vague job listing you’d answered, you might have thought you were walking into a feel-good rom-com instead of a potentially shady situation.  

You knocked on the door and waited. Seconds ticked by. You shifted awkwardly, glancing over your shoulder as if expecting hidden cameras. But just as you were about to knock again, the door flew open with surprising force, revealing a little girl standing barely taller than the doorknob.  

“Hi!” she exclaimed, her voice so cheerful it nearly gave you whiplash. “Are you the babysitter?”  

“Uh… yeah,” you replied, startled by the sheer intensity of her enthusiasm. “That’s me.”  

“I’m Su-an,” she said proudly, puffing out her chest. “Come in! I was just having a meeting with my council!”  

Before you could even ask what she meant, she grabbed your hand and tugged you inside. The house was warm and cozy, if a little cluttered, with toys scattered across the floor and crayon drawings taped haphazardly on the walls.  

---

“This is Mr. Snuggles,” Su-an announced, holding up a ragged teddy bear with one ear chewed off. “He’s the president of my council.”  

“Uh-huh,” you said, nodding solemnly. “And what does the council do?”  

“Important stuff,” she said, narrowing her eyes like she was letting you in on a state secret. “Like deciding who gets cookies after dinner. Also, they voted to make you the assistant.”  

You blinked. “I don’t remember running for office.”  

“Well, you didn’t,” she said matter-of-factly. “But Mr. Snuggles said you looked like you’d be good at it.”  

Before you could protest, she shoved the bear into your hands and pointed to a tiny table covered in a chaotic mix of crayons, plastic teacups, and a single half-eaten cookie.  

“Sit,” she ordered. “The council meeting is starting!”  

---

The rest of the afternoon unfolded in a whirlwind of nonsensical games and increasingly bizarre “council decisions.” At one point, you were ordered to wear a paper crown (which barely fit) and were dubbed the “Official Snack Prince.” Your royal duties included distributing Goldfish crackers and ensuring everyone—stuffed animals included—got an equal share.  

“You’re actually pretty good at this,” Su-an said, eyeing you critically as you handed Sir Fluffington his crackers. “Better than my last babysitter.”  

“Oh?” you asked, curious. “What happened to them?”  

“They couldn’t handle the council,” she said gravely.  

---

After the meeting adjourned, Su-an decided it was time to “train” you in the art of hide-and-seek. You played along, even though she kept hiding in the same spot: under the dining table, her giggles giving her away every single time.  

“Found you again!” you said, crouching down to peer under the table.  

She gasped, genuinely shocked. “How are you so good at this?!”  

“It’s a gift,” you deadpanned, earning another round of giggles.  

---

When hide-and-seek got old, she declared it was “dance party time.” She dragged you to the living room, where she plugged in her favorite playlist on an ancient speaker. The first song was a pop hit you vaguely recognized, and before you could even protest, she was already twirling around like a whirlwind.  

“Come on!” she yelled over the music.  

“I don’t dance,” you started, but she shot you a look so devastatingly adorable that you had no choice but to join in.  

What followed was ten minutes of the most ridiculous dancing of your life. Su-an moved like she was powered by pure chaos, flailing her arms and jumping around, while you attempted something resembling the robot. She laughed so hard she tripped over her own feet, and you had to catch her before she face-planted into the couch.  

---

As the day wore on, you found yourself genuinely enjoying her company. She was smart, funny, and had the kind of boundless energy that made you wonder if kids ran on caffeine instead of juice boxes.  

By the time bedtime rolled around, you were exhausted. Getting her into pajamas was an ordeal—she insisted she couldn’t sleep without her “lucky socks,” which turned out to be mismatched and buried at the bottom of her toy chest. When you finally tucked her in, she stared up at you with wide, sleepy eyes.  

���Will you come back tomorrow?” she asked, clutching Mr. Snuggles to her chest.  

“Yeah,” you said, smiling. “I’ll be here.”  

“Promise?”  

“Promise.”  

---

As you made your way back downstairs, you felt a surprising sense of accomplishment. Babysitting wasn’t what you’d imagined yourself doing, but something about Su-an’s infectious energy and genuine joy made it worth it.  

You tidied up the living room, stepping over plastic dinosaurs and rogue crayons, and couldn’t help but laugh to yourself. If every day was going to be like this, maybe this job wouldn’t be so bad after all.  

---

And so, your days with Su-an became a routine. Every afternoon, she greeted you at the door like an excited puppy, launching into a new scheme or game. One day, she decided you were a dragon and she was a brave knight. The next, you were her art teacher, helping her draw increasingly absurd animals like “dog-o-sauruses” and “cat-icorns.”  

One particularly memorable day, she tried to teach you how to braid her hair. It did not go well.  

“Why are there so many strands?!” you groaned, your fingers tangled in her hair.  

“It’s easy!” she said, giggling. “You just go over, under, over, under!”  

“You sound like a cryptic math teacher,” you muttered, earning another round of giggles.  

---

The days passed in a blur of laughter and chaos, and soon, you found yourself looking forward to your afternoons with Su-an. She made you forget about your stress, your bills, and your endless to-do list.  

Still, a question lingered in the back of your mind: where was her dad during all of this? But for now, you were content to let the mystery be. After all, it was hard to worry about much when you had a six-year-old demanding you be her “Royal Snack Advisor.”

It was one of those rare evenings when the air felt just right—not too cold, not too warm, with a soft breeze that carried the faint smell of grass and distant barbecues. Su-an had begged to go to the park after dinner, and you’d caved, eager to get some fresh air and give her a chance to burn off her endless energy.

“Push me higher!” Su-an squealed as she swung back and forth, her legs pumping excitedly. You stood behind her, laughing as you gave the swing a gentle push.

“Higher, huh? What are you trying to do, touch the clouds?”

“Maybe!” she shouted, giggling as the swing reached its peak.

The park wasn’t crowded—just a few other families and joggers scattered around. It was peaceful, the kind of evening where you could almost forget the strange tension that sometimes hung around the house, the questions you tried not to ask about her father’s late-night comings and goings.

But the peace didn’t last.

As you helped Su-an off the swing and she dragged you toward the monkey bars, a commotion near the edge of the park caught your attention. At first, you thought it was just a group of people arguing—a not-uncommon sight in the city. But then you saw him.

Your heart stopped.

There, in the dim light of a flickering street lamp, was a man—the man. His tall frame was unmistakable, even in the shadows. He stood over a small group of disheveled, huddled figures, who you quickly realized were homeless people. A plastic bag lay torn at his feet, loaves of bread spilled across the ground.

He wasn’t just standing there. He was stepping on the bread.

Your breath caught as you watched him stomp down with deliberate, almost mechanical force, grinding the food into the dirt. The homeless group stared in silence, some in shock, others looking away as if too defeated to protest.

“Isn’t that Daddy?”

The innocent question cut through the haze of disbelief like a knife. You snapped your head down to look at Su-an, her wide eyes fixed on the scene with a mix of curiosity and confusion.

“No,” you said quickly, your voice sharper than you intended. “It’s not.”

“But—”

Before she could finish, you crouched down and gently placed your hands over her eyes. “Let’s go, Su-an. We’re leaving.”

“Why can’t I look? What’s wrong?” she whined, squirming in your grasp.

“Because it’s not safe,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady as you picked her up and started walking away, her protests muffled against your shoulder.

Your mind raced as you carried her toward the car. What had you just witnessed? That couldn’t have been him—could it? But the silhouette, the way he carried himself—it was all too familiar.

You buckled Su-an into her car seat, doing your best to distract her with promises of ice cream and cartoons when you got home. But even as she babbled happily about her favorite flavors, your hands trembled on the steering wheel.

By the time you got back to the house and put Su-an to bed, your heart was still pounding. You paced the living room, replaying the scene over and over in your head. The way he’d crushed the bread underfoot—there had been no hesitation, no anger, just cold, calculated precision.

Who does that?

And more importantly, why?

The house was silent, save for the faint hum of the refrigerator and the occasional creak of the floorboards as you shifted on the couch. You hadn’t meant to fall asleep, but between your classes, assignments, and Su-an’s boundless energy, exhaustion had taken its toll.

It was the sound of the front door slamming that jolted you awake. Disoriented, you blinked into the darkness, the faint glow of the kitchen light casting long shadows across the room. Footsteps echoed through the hallway—heavy, deliberate, and nothing like the hurried, near-silent ones you were used to from the man of the house.

You sat up, your heart beginning to race. Something wasn’t right.

When he appeared in the doorway, your stomach twisted into a knot. His usually pristine white shirt was drenched in blood, the vivid crimson staining the fabric and dripping in thick, uneven streaks. His face was ashen, his dark eyes wild and unfocused, like a man teetering on the edge of something you couldn’t name.

“Wh-what happened?” you stammered, instinctively backing away as the metallic tang of blood reached your nose.

“It’s not my blood,” he said curtly, his voice gravelly and sharp.

As if that was supposed to make you feel better.

“That doesn’t answer my question!” you said, your voice trembling despite your attempt to sound firm.

He staggered toward the kitchen, his movements unsteady but purposeful. Against every ounce of self-preservation screaming at you to stay put, you got up and followed him.

“Are you hurt?” you asked, your tone softer this time.

He didn’t respond, instead gripping the edge of the counter as if to steady himself. The dim light overhead cast harsh shadows across his sharp features, making him look even more unapproachable than usual.

“Sit down,” you said, surprised by the steadiness of your own voice.

He turned his head, his gaze locking onto yours with an intensity that made your chest tighten. For a moment, you thought he’d ignore you, but then he surprised you by obeying. He sank into one of the kitchen chairs, his movements slow and deliberate, as if every step cost him.

You grabbed a damp cloth from the sink, your hands trembling slightly as you wrung it out. You weren’t sure why you were doing this—why you weren’t running out the door or calling the police. Maybe it was the way he looked, like a man who had seen too much, or maybe it was the faint vulnerability hiding behind his hard exterior.

“This... isn’t normal,” you muttered, more to yourself than him, as you began wiping the blood from his face. The cloth came away dark and sticky, and your stomach churned.

“You shouldn’t concern yourself with things you don’t understand,” he said quietly, his voice carrying a warning edge.

You paused, meeting his gaze. His eyes were darker than you’d ever seen them, filled with something unreadable—a mix of exhaustion, anger, and something else that sent a shiver down your spine.

“I’m here,” you said, almost defiantly, as you moved to clean his hands. “So I’m already concerned.”

He didn’t respond, but the tension in his shoulders seemed to ease ever so slightly.

The silence between you grew even heavier, the only sound now being the soft movement of the cloth against his skin. Your hands were shaking slightly as you worked, wiping the blood from his face, his hands, but his eyes never left you. They were intense—piercing, almost as though he were searching for something in your expression.

You couldn’t look away for long. The tension in the air thickened with every passing second, your heartbeat picking up, each thud echoing loudly in your ears. It was like being drawn into a web you didn’t fully understand but couldn’t escape from, no matter how hard you tried.

When you finally stepped back, giving him space, you thought you’d be able to breathe again. But then, his hand shot out, quick as lightning, wrapping around your wrist. The touch was firm, deliberate, sending an involuntary jolt of electricity through your veins. You tried to pull away, but his grip was unyielding. His fingers were cold against your skin, but the intensity in his eyes made your heart race.

"Why are you helping me?" His voice was low, gravelly, and for a moment, you wondered if he was testing you—seeing if you’d reveal the truth, or maybe if you’d run.

You swallowed hard, trying to steady your breath, but your pulse was hammering, and you couldn’t ignore the way your body reacted to his proximity. The heat between you both felt suffocating. His touch was grounding, yet it stirred something dangerous inside you. “Because someone has to,” you replied, your voice steady, though you could feel the words slipping off your tongue more as a defense than truth.

His gaze deepened, darkening in a way that sent a chill down your spine. The air between you was thick, electric, as if there were an unspoken promise between you both—a promise you knew you were too afraid to fully acknowledge. Then, before you could even react, he pulled you in close. His other hand slid to the back of your neck, fingers threading through your hair with a force that made your breath catch in your throat.

And then his lips were on yours.

It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t slow. It was a collision, desperate and overwhelming, like a dam that had been holding back too much for too long and was finally breaking free. His kiss was messy—almost violent—as if he needed to consume you, to claim you in a way that made your knees weak and your thoughts scatter. His lips were demanding, his teeth grazing your bottom lip in a way that made your body tremble.

You should’ve pushed him away, told him to stop, told him that this was wrong. Your mind screamed at you to break free, but your body betrayed you, leaning into him instead, matching the fervor of his kiss. His hand slid to your waist, pulling you even closer, his grip tightening. Your breath was ragged between kisses, and your pulse pounded in your ears as the world outside of the two of you seemed to vanish.

When he pulled away, just far enough to catch his breath, your lips were swollen, your chest heaving. You couldn’t think. All you could feel was the lingering heat of his touch, the undeniable thrum of desire that still buzzed beneath your skin. His eyes met yours, and for a moment, there was something in them—something dark, dangerous, but...hungry.

His lips curved into a smirk, and it sent a jolt of unease running down your spine, mingled with something else, something deeper.

“You’re in over your head, kid,” he said, his voice a low murmur that sent a shiver down your back.

The words should’ve been a warning. They should’ve sent you running. But instead, they only lingered in the air between you, wrapping themselves around you like a noose. You should’ve known then, but you didn’t want to listen.

And for the first time, you realized: you were already tangled up in his web, and maybe—just maybe—you didn’t want to escape.

The obsession grew in subtle ways. You’d arrive to find unexpected gifts waiting for you on the kitchen counter: a sleek leather wallet, a watch so expensive you didn’t dare wear it, a bottle of cologne that smelled like a storm breaking over the ocean.

When you tried to protest—“This is too much” or “I can’t accept this”—his expression would shift. His jaw would tighten, his eyes darkening with something that made your chest tighten.

“Take it,” he’d say, his tone brooking no argument. And you’d always comply, your words catching in your throat as he gave you a look that said refusing wasn’t an option.

Your feelings about him became a tangled mess of contradictions. Every instinct screamed that something about him was wrong. The blood, the cryptic way he spoke, the chilling bread incident in the park—they all painted a picture of a man you should stay far away from.

But then there were the moments that left you reeling. A lingering glance, a brush of his hand against yours, the way he could soften—just slightly—when he saw you with Su-an.

The first time he kissed you, you felt like your world had been turned inside out. It was sudden, overwhelming, and left you breathless. His lips were rough but urgent, like he was staking a claim rather than asking permission. And when it happened again—and again—you didn’t push him away. Instead, you found yourself leaning into him, craving the heat of his touch despite every rational thought telling you to run.

But his obsession wasn’t content to simmer beneath the surface. It began to consume him, bleeding into the delicate balance of your day-to-day life.

He started showing up during your babysitting hours, a presence that was impossible to ignore. At first, he’d just watch from the doorway as you played with Su-an, his dark eyes following your every move with a possessiveness that sent shivers down your spine.

Then, his involvement escalated. He’d dismiss you early—always with some excuse about needing to talk to you. But the moment Su-an was out of earshot, his demeanor would shift. He’d pull you into his room, his hands firm but not rough as he guided you inside.

“You’re spending so much time with her,” he’d say, his voice low and rough, tinged with something you couldn’t quite place. “Don’t forget who’s paying you.”

His lips would crash against yours before you could respond, his kisses urgent and messy, as though he couldn’t stand the thought of you being anywhere else but with him.

The final straw came on a night like any other—or so you thought. Su-an had already gone to bed, and you were tidying up the living room when your gaze drifted toward the slightly ajar door of the man’s study. It was a room he rarely used in your presence, a space he kept locked most of the time.

You hadn’t intended to snoop. But the door was open, and your curiosity, already inflamed by the strange events surrounding him, got the better of you.

Inside, the air was thick with the scent of leather and faintly bitter cologne. The dim lighting cast long shadows over the mahogany desk and the shelves lined with books and files. One particular folder caught your attention—it was open, papers spilling out as if hastily shoved aside.

Your heart sank as you picked up the first page. It was your class schedule, neatly printed and highlighted. Beneath it were receipts from your favorite coffee shop, notes about your usual order scribbled in the margins.

And then there were the photos.

They weren’t candid shots taken on the street or at the park. They were intimate, the kind of photos someone would take if they were watching closely—too closely. You recognized the outfits, the moments. One was of you laughing as you pushed Su-an on the swings. Another showed you sitting on a park bench, earbuds in, entirely unaware of the camera.

The air in the room felt too thick, like it was choking you. Your fingers trembled as you shoved the papers back into the folder, heart hammering in your chest.

“What the hell is this?”

The words left your mouth before you even realized he was standing in the doorway, his tall frame silhouetted against the light from the hall. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes burned with something intense.

The folder in your hands felt heavier than it should have, its contents seared into your memory. Photos of you, notes about your life, details no one should know unless they’d been watching you for far too long. Your heart pounded in your chest as you stared at him, standing so calmly in the doorway as if this was all perfectly normal.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” you demanded, your voice shaking.

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he stepped further into the room, his movements slow, deliberate. The door clicked shut behind him, sealing you in with the man you were starting to realize you knew far less about than you’d thought.

“I warned you,” he said, his voice low, almost soothing. “I told you not to go looking where you shouldn’t.”

“This—this is insane,” you stammered, backing up until the edge of the desk pressed against your hips. “Why do you have these? Why are you—”

“You don’t get it, do you?” he interrupted, his tone softening as he drew closer. His gaze was unrelenting, pinning you in place. “I’ve been watching over you. Protecting you. You’re... important to me.”

“Protecting me?” you shot back, your voice breaking. “This is stalking. This is obsessive. This—this isn’t normal!”

He stopped just a breath away from you, his height and presence overwhelming. His eyes, dark and piercing, searched yours for something, though you couldn’t tell what. Slowly, he reached out, his hand brushing against your cheek.

“I can’t lose you,” he murmured, his voice almost breaking. “Do you have any idea what you mean to me–and to my daughter? You’ve become... everything.”

The warmth of his touch sent an involuntary shiver down your spine. Your body tensed, torn between the instinct to pull away and the undeniable pull of his closeness.

“Stop,” you whispered, though your voice lacked the strength it should have had. “This isn’t—this can’t—”

But he didn’t stop. His other hand moved to your waist, firm but not forceful, as he leaned closer.

“You keep saying it’s wrong,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, his breath warm against your lips. “But you don’t push me away.”

His lips brushed against yours, testing, as though giving you one last chance to stop him. But when you didn’t move, when your breath hitched and your hands gripped the edge of the desk behind you, he took it as permission.

The kiss was slow at first, deliberate and searching, as though he was memorizing every inch of your mouth. But it didn’t stay that way for long. His hand slid up to the back of your neck, fingers tangling in your hair as he pulled you closer, deepening the kiss.

You gasped against him, your hands instinctively gripping his shirt. The heat of him, the sheer intensity of his presence, was dizzying. When his teeth grazed your bottom lip, you couldn’t suppress the small sound that escaped you—a sound that seemed to ignite something in him.

His movements grew more desperate, more consuming. He pressed you back against the desk, his body caging you in as his lips moved from your mouth to your jaw, then down to the sensitive skin of your neck. The scrape of his stubble sent sparks of sensation racing down your spine, and you couldn’t help the way your head tilted to give him better access.

“You drive me insane,” he murmured against your skin, his voice rough, almost guttural. “Do you even realize what you do to me?”

You swallowed hard, your mind racing even as your body betrayed you, leaning into him. His hands gripped your waist, his thumbs brushing just under the hem of your shirt, and you shivered at the contact.

“This... this isn’t okay,” you managed, though the words came out weak, shaky.

“No,” he agreed, pulling back just enough to look at you. His gaze was dark, filled with something you didn’t dare name. “But that doesn’t mean you don’t want it.”

The words hung between you, heavy and charged, as he leaned in again, his lips claiming yours with a hunger that left no room for argument. And though your mind screamed at you to stop, to push him away, your body betrayed you, pulling him closer instead.

His hand slowly trailed to the hem of your sweatpants, lightly tugging on the strap, you flinched when his cold hand suddenly went under your boxers. 

“We shouldn’t be doing this– Su-an might-” you were interrupted with his other hand covering your mouth.

“Hush now, this room is soundproof,” he merely stated before harshly pulling your pants and boxers down with one tug. He then picked you up and placed you on the desk, pushing aside all the files and paper, which now seemed so insignificant.

“You’re hard. Are you still telling me you don’t want this?” He questions, his warm breath fanning your ear. You shuddered at the feeling, not knowing what to say, or what to do.

Before you could form words, he wraps his hand around your aching cock which was standing erect, partly due to the cool air, and partly due to what was happening.

His movements were minimal, slowly moving his hand along your shaft, while his other hand fetched a packet of lube from his back pocket. Where he managed to get that, you couldn’t tell.

He ripped the packet with his teeth, and spread the substance all over his fingers, before swiftly flipping you over, so that your ass was facing him.

Before you could utter a word of process, he had slipped a lubed finger in you. A wanton moan left your mouth at the sudden intrusion. 

“Fuck–don’t stop, please,” the man only smirked at this, slowly sliding in another finger, and then another. Three of his fingers slowly pumped in and out of you, and oh, it felt heavenly. His other hand held you up just a bit, to keep you from falling off the study desk.

Your hands gripped onto the desk, frantically trying to keep yourself upright, but to no avail. You kept slumping off, the pleasure being too overwhelming.

“Stay still for me pet, that’s it–good boy,” the praise went straight to your dick, your eyes rolling to the back of your head.

Soon, the man determined that you had been prepped enough, and removed his fingers. You whined at the sudden emptiness, wanting to feel full once more.

He stared at your twitching hole, clenching around nothing. The sight did nothing but turn him on even more.

He removed his belt and cast it aside, while tugging down his pants and boxers with a sense of urgency. He easily flipped you over with his strong arms, now getting a clear view of your already fucked-out face.

He merely grinned, and before you could respond, he slid into your awaiting hole. You gasped at the intrusion, the head of his cock bullying its way into your hole. He groaned feeling the way you clenched around his length.

Without waiting for you to adjust, he fucked into you like an animal in heat, holding your legs in such a way that your knees where at your shoulders.

The new angle made his length hit your prostate with every thrust, making your head fall back on the table, a loud moan leaving your lips.

 The man was savouring every single reaction, every little noise you made. “Such a sweet little thing,” he cooed. “Can’t even keep a straight head while getting fucked, hm?”

The only thing that left your mouth was a string of garbled noises. Your brain had quite literally turned to mush with how well he was fucking you.

Soon, you felt your orgasm wash over you like a waterfall, but the man didn’t stop. Instead, he fucked into you harder, a bulge forming in your stomach with every thrust.

He lightly pressed on the bulge, which made you squeal– the overstimulation doing too much to your head.

He kept rutting into you until he felt his climax. When it came, his thrusts slowly started to stutter. Without warning he emptied his load in you, painting your gummy walls white.

He kept you on the desk, without pulling out as you whimpered, feeling so, so full.

With your mind in such a disarrayed state, you didn’t notice him slip a small ring onto your finger.

“Now you can’t leave me–or Su-an, ever. Poor thing needs a mother after all.”

© carnalcrows on tumblr. Please do not steal my works as I spend time and and I take genuine effort to do them.

[pretend-i-don-t-exist]

sy trying to create a pidw au would be so funny

i feel like he'd actually commit to it to spite airplane. at first, it garnered attention bc it was from the peerless cucumber, notorious critic and biggest pidw hater, so ofc they're all curious how pidw would look like in his eyes. it was surprisingly (well not really, considering the tens of paragraphs peerless cucumber wrote during his rants, all of which have immaculate grammar and spelling— bc ofc he can't let anyone find something to nitpick on his review so they're forced to see the point!) well-written and definitely more plot-focused.

majority of the readers disappeared after the first few chapters, mainly because of the lack of smutty scenes, but those that do remain are very engaged. one of them is airplane's burner account, when he needs to separate himself from his airplane persona. he's really, really curious as to what his hater is doing to his work.

he... he actually likes it. it's not really the novel he envisioned when he was first working on pidw, nor does it contain all the elements of his original draft, but it was good. he likes it a lot better than what pidw turned out to be.

airplane spent so much time contemplating and considering before finally saying fuck it, and dms peerless cucumber to see if he can work as a co-author with him and they can rewrite pidw together. he even sends parts of the original draft (what was left of it, anyway) as incentive!

it takes a long week before even peerless cucumber replies, and by then he has written a novella detailing how much better the original draft was and him screaming very informally at why airplane had to cast it aside.

lol i need money bro im broke af and porn sells, airplane answers.

it takes another week before peerless cucumber finally answers. then live with me, his message reads. no rent. i'll pay for whatever food you want. and whatever bills you have. just write a good fucking novel, i swear to god.

airplane thinks it's a joke, until he receives the address. an actual penthouse. in the richest streets of guangzhou. there is also a request to meet up (seeing as they don't actually know each other, and sy's brothers are very intent on not getting him murdered in his sleep) and airplane, after much, much thinking, accepts.

airplane does not really know what to feel when he finally meets and talks to shen yuan— pampered third son of a very wealthy family, with two protective older brothers and an even more protective little sister— and sy is just. well. he's exactly airplane's type. the beautiful, ice prince who apparently has only shown this much emotion around airplane. sy's meimei had told him cheerfully and then threatened to gut him if he so much as steps a foot out of line. airplane is starting to feel like he's just met a mafia family.

shen yuan's family aside, airplane is actually living his best life. he no longer has to worry about money. he lives in a luxurious (gods he has never seen such a large bedroom before wtf) penthouse without needing to pay rent (!!!) and utilities (!!!) and even food (!!!). he can write as much as he wants. this must be what artists felt like when they're taken care of noble families in exchange for their art.

he does... well. he and peerless cucumber are friends now. they work on the rewrite together. airplane keeps finding out many things, like how shen yuan likes his tea with a lot of honey, dislikes milk chocolate, and prefers drawing over writing. he also runs hot during the night, when he sleeps.

how does airplane know that? well. bros gotta do what bros gotta do. it's a good thing they both like to cuddle.

[faesdreaming]

cardinal concept

yandere platonic batfam with a resurrected reader

a/n: because as much as i love neglected reader, dead (then alive again) reader just has so much potential

the dynamic duo, batman and robin. bruce wayne and dick grayson. then, you came along; a result of bruce’s irresponsible coupling with a young woman he’d long since forgotten about. you grow up in the nastier parts of gotham with your mother, where you’re forces to grow up faster and become more mature, until she has an accident.

after you’re mother’s untimely death, you find yourself under his care. bruce is hesitant and unsure, he’s already struggled with raising dick. he doesn’t want to fail you too. he dances around telling about batman until you happen upon the batcave, at your insistence and a few instances of you following them, he relents and lets you join.

suddenly, it’s batman, robin, and cardinal.

bruce is initially unsure what to do with you, even after you become cardinal. unlike with dick, who needed to become robin lest he go down a darker road, you’re only cardinal because of him. it draws out an agonizing guilt, causing bruce to practically coddle you. but you’re emotionally intelligent, in a way bruce isn’t, you’re able to communicate with soft words and gentle reasoning instead of shouting matches and tearful pouting like your brother. you’re his angel, his sweet, understanding angel. it reminds him of his own mother. you’re kind, empathetic disposition is everything bruce needs in his life. because yes, to him, your brother needs his guidance. but bruce needs yours.

as for dick his relationship is with you as simple as this: he’s the big brother and you’re the little sibling. you can fight and argue, but you two always make up and head off to snuggle or play. you’re bond grows stronger the more time you spend on patrol— having each other’s back, getting into trouble with batman— or at school— although you’re in a younger grade, you still see your big brother at school and go to him when you have problems— or at home— snuggled up, watching a movie and eating snacks provided by alfred— you two are extremely close.

you’re little of family of four— including alfred, of course— is tight-knit. you fight and argue but always make up and you’re always there for each other.

until dick becomes nightwing and a scruffy teen named jason todd joins you. as close as you are with your older brother and father, you bond with him far quicker. maybe it’s because of how close you are in age, or maybe it’s because of your shared past experiences.

the family dynamics shift and change, but that isn’t necessarily a bad thing. dick grows more distant, going off with the titans. but that’s to be expected, he’s grown up now. you still visit him, of course. and he still pops by to see you. bruce, you notice, softens, almost. he’s grown accustomed to parenthood. jason is your favourite change, though. a sibling close in age, but still younger, so can justify (playfully) bossing him around. your family isn’t perfect, but it’s yours and you love it.

then, jason and bruce start fighting. dick goes off world. a fight with bane leaves you injured and out of commission. it’s just a rough patch, you tell yourself. until, suddenly, jason’s birth mother contacts him. something’s off about it. you want to tell your dad, however, jason is adamant you shouldn’t. reluctantly, you don’t, opting to go along with him just in case.

your gut, as it turns out, was right. you’re injured and unable to do much as the joker captures you and jason. you’re helpless to watch as your brother, your sweet baby brother, is beaten mercilessly with a crowbar. your voice is hoarse from screaming during your own beating and your body is sore, but despite it all, you still rasp out pleas to let your brother go. one child will be effective enough. the joker can spare one. of course, in his cruelty, he doesn’t.

you’re left aching, battered, and bruised. the ticking of the bomb serves as the count to your death. jason, brave jason, tries to gather enough strength to get up. and maybe, just maybe, he could escape if he weren’t focused on trying to save you. he won’t listen to your pleas for him to go, to leave you behind. he’s adamant upon accompanying you to your doom.

you hear the final ticks. with all the strength you have left, you move towards him. you cannot save yourself. you cannot save him. all you can do is die beside him. pressing your forehead to his, the last thing you see is your little brother’s face before the final tick sounds and the ensuing explosion consumes you.

and that’s the end of it, your journey, your life. you’re buried alongside your brother in a sombre ceremony, your uniform cased in glass as a memorial to bruce’s failures. he becomes angrier, loses himself. he’s lost two of his children and is fighting with his only remaining one. dick, is utterly furious, with himself and bruce. he blames bruce. for letting his precious siblings die, for starting them all of this heroic crusade. he blames himself for not being there, for being distant with you and jason.

alas, time marches forwards and batman needs a new robin, in the form of one tim drake. he’s a clever kid, one way too smart for his own good. one you used to babysit while his rich parents were away to earn some extra cash. it wasn’t right, leaving him with no one his age to play with. so, when you could, you’d come over. you’d soothe his loneliness. and for that, he’s forever grateful.

your influence continues beyond your death. for you life has impacted so many. barbara gordan, for example, who viewed you akin to a little sister. who fought alongside you as batgirl. you were loved by many as (Y/N) Wayne. your friends and family still hold candles for you. even as they accept your lose, they never stop fully grieving for you and the lost potential brimming inside you. then, there are those who you impacted as cardinal. as a hero, you saved numerous lives, including that of one stephanie brown, who will forever feel indebted to you and strives to become just like you.

the justice league, who knew you as one of the first sidekicks, who functioned like extended family, mourn deeply for your loss and offer sympathies to your father and brother. they will remember you and your tenacity, carrying on their pursuit of justice with you in mind. certainly villains, such as poison ivy and even harley quinn, are enraged with the joker. while you could occasionally be a pain, you were their favourite kiddie hero. and of course the likes of selina kyle and talia al ghul, your father’s paramours, women who became like family to you.

cardinal will be forever immortalized in the hearts of heroes and villains alike, your legacy of compassion and kindness living on in memories transformed into stories, your death a testament to sacrifice and love and heroism— except, that isn’t how it ends, is it? no. your story doesn’t end with your death, it’s how it begins.

and your real story begins by waking in the constricting confined of your casket, bursting out with inhuman strength, fueled by the adrenaline boost, and digging your way out of your grave, the cool mud giving way to harsh ground until you break through the service. that night, that stormy gotham eve, is the day you are reborn.

you flee then wander the streets of gotham until you regain your mind. you remember, you remember everything and you, you don’t want to go back. not to your family, not to your friends, not the life you once knew. you were given a new life. and this life, you would live for yourself.

sans your old attachments, you live encumbered, untroubled by past woes. yet, you seem to forget your festering memory, the mark you’ve left on people. you forget that while you may be willing to leave your old life behind, they aren’t as willing to let you go. especially when they learn you’re within reach.

[silkentine]

All I could think while drawing Nami was, “Wouldn’t you like to know, weatherboy?” And, of course, with Robin I was thinking, “save a horse… 🥵”

Design Notes and other opining below the cut:

For Nami, I wanted to go for a mix of cocky Jersey mafia newbie and surfer boy. I like to think that some of the horrendous outfit choices that Sanji makes (especially in the movies) were actually picked out by Nami. She’s the shopper!!! But yeah, the vibrant swim trunks and graphic tees just scream Nami. I also wanted to put him in a wetsuit/rash guard because I think that’s a sexy look so sue me if you hate it. You cannot argue with me that Nami doesn’t wear swimsuits as clothes.

He’s toned but not as muscular as Robin or Luffy (for example) because he isn’t a front-line fighter, I want him to maintain the same kind of role that Nami has in the animanga. He’s the best navigator in the world!! I couldn’t decide if I wanted to change the violent tendencies that Nami has, but ultimately I think he’d still give the more deserving members of the crew a healthy wallop (although I might portray it more cartoonishly). Boy Piece!Nami still grew up under Arlong’s authority so he spent a lot of his childhood walking on eggshells to protect his village and his brother, Nojiko, so I think he never really got to learn “you’re not supposed to hit people just because they frustrate you” lesson. I gave him a shark-tooth necklace because surely Arlong had a few loose teeth to spare once Luffy took her down. Victory spoils LOL

If he can get the girls to stop wrestling and sit down quietly for a while, he likes to host card games (with betting, of course) or watch the clouds while sipping whatever fruity cocktail Sanji whips up. I believe that Canon!Nami is a total lesbian, and I can’t possibly envision a Nami who doesn’t like women so Boy Piece!Nami is bi. I am, of course, a Namivivi truther and Vivi is also a man in this AU. I don’t hate Sanami within this dynamic though… lots to think about.

Okay!!! All-shipper mindset aside, let’s talk Robin. I gave him long hair because 1) it’s hot and 2) I think it makes him look like Dragon. Yeahhh, I subscribe to the Luffy and Robin are half-siblings theory because I think it’s funny and makes some sense. Crocodile is 100% Luffy’s Mom in this AU and I think Robin knows it LOL

For his outfits, I wanted to lean a bit more Indiana Jones where I could; he’s still primarily cowboy inspired though. For the main look, I went with the Skypeia color palette hehe, I think Robin looks good in yellow. I did some flower-petal shaped color blocking on his chaps because I think it’s cute and subtle. I really love that the powers of the Hana-Hana-no-mi are like… unexpected for a “flower flower” fruit and I think Robin would be more aware that juxtaposition as a guy. You might also be wondering about the gloves and I initially just had it for his cowboy look but I decided to put them on all the outfits up until the events of Enies Lobby. Canon!Robin has a really difficult childhood and I think it’s exacerbated by the fact that she’s a girl on her own. If Robin was a boy, he’d probably have an easier time living on his own but would be a lot less emotionally open. All of these elements combine to make him want that physical barrier between his real hands and the world. Once he can trust that the Strawhats will always be there for him, he’s more willing to be more physically open.

I also think it’d be cute if he was much more of a coffee drinker :3c I see Canon!Robin as a connoisseur who likes a well-brewed espresso but Boy Piece!Robin needs a cup of joe (no matter its quality) every chance he can get. So I drew him with his special #1 ARCHAEOLOGIST mug.

It would make me so happy if you left your thoughts in the tags or replies!! Even if you hate everything about them, I just really like engagement hahaha. I’m thinking girl Usopp is next despite the poll results because she’s on my mind rn (don’t hold me to this, LOL I’m fickle). I’m making these for fun so I just wanna make designs in the order that interests me the most. Check out the tag “girl piece” on my blog to see all the genderbends I have so far. And happy pride!!!

[mariasont]

i love your hotch x bimbo!assistant!!! they are so super, super, super cute! is it possible to see how them being domestic and in an established relationship, especially at work? ik hotch would be professional but bimbo!assistant would probably be a lovely menace hehe.

LOVELY MENACE - A.H

a/n: im so glad you all love bimbo reader as much as me ugh!!!! thank you sm for requesting--lovely menace is literally the most accurate description of her <3

masterlist

pairings: aaron hotchner x bimbo!assistant!reader

warnings: bimbo!assistant reader borderline harassing hotch at work but i dont think that's a shocker

wc: 0.8k

Aaron Hotchner was nothing if not a man of routine. Arrive early, coffee black, reports stacked just so, and then never ending stacks of cases. His days were predictable, orderly. He liked it that way.

But then there was you. The one thing in his life he seemed unable to control.

The tap of your heels sounded through the bullpen as you made your daily grand entrance, as you liked to call it.

Today you were wearing a sheer blouse that, if his eyes weren’t mistaking him, shimmered under the overhead lights. That same shirt was tucked into a skirt that was just short enough to make him tense up in his chair.

It wasn’t that he wasn’t used to you look stunning—I mean, it was practically your default setting—but today, the whole outfit seemed to scream I don’t have time for you, I have much more important plans with much more important people.

"Morning, sir," you chirped, sounding just a touch too sweet as you approached his desk, clutching a folder you didn't even need.

His body was already on high-alert.

"Morning," Hotch said without missing a beat as he scanned the report in front of him.

You leaned against the side of the desk, making a slow show of flipping through the file in your hands. "Big day ahead?"

"Every day is a big day," he replied, not looking up.

You smiled, leaning just a bit closer, close enough that if he leaned forward even in the slightest, he knew he’d be way closer than company policy dictates to your breasts.

"You know, for someone who is secretly in love with me, you're very good at pretending you don't even like me."

Hotch paused, his pen hovering above the paper just a fraction of a second. "We're at work."

He found himself repeating this phrase to you more often than he’d like.

"I know," you said with a faux innocent shrug. "I'm just saying. You're a very convincing actor. Makes me wonder what else you're good at pretending."

He said your name, voice low enough to get your attention, without drawing the eyes of others.

"Fine, fine," you said. "I'll behave... for now."

He sighed and pressed a hand onto the paper in front of him, finally glancing up at you.

"Is there something you need, or are you just here to loiter?"

"I do not loiter," you protested. "I'm here for...." You paused, tapping your chin with a manicured finger. "What was I here for?"

"Enlighten me," he said dryly, though his mouth twitched as he talked.

"Oh! I remember!" you explained, dropping the file in your hand to his desk. "Important paperwork. It's very serious."

He glanced down at the file—empty.

You didn't seem to notice (or care) as you perched yourself on the edge of his desk, your skirt hiking up just enough to make him wish the blinds weren't open.

"So, anyway, you were saying?"

"I wasn't saying anything," he replied, picking up his pen again.

"Right, right. That's because you're so... in your head all the time," you teased, tilting your head to rest your cheek on your palm. "It's very sexy, by the way. Have I told you that recently?"

"Not at work, no."

"Well, let me fix that," you said, leaning forward like you were about to whisper some great secret. "You're very sexy, Aaron."

He blew a short breath out of his nose, hands balling into fists as he willed his blood pressure back down to a relatively normal level.

"We're at work."

There it was again. He was beginning to sound like a broken record.

"I know! That's what makes it fun."

Hotch rubbed a hand down his face. "Do you know how hard you make my job?"

"Do you know how hard you make my job?"  You countered, gesturing wildly, nearly knocking over his coffee mug. "Like, how am I supposed to focus on anything when you look like that all the time? It's honestly kind of rude."

"Honey."

"Oh, don't honey me," you said, rolling your eyes dramatically. "I'm just saying you could try and be a little less..." You trailed off, waving a hand in a vague circle around his face. "You."

"You're impossible."

"And yet," you said, sliding off the desk and leaning in close enough that your perfume wrapped around him like a second skin, "you still still keep me around."

“Don’t tempt me." Hotch straightened, his chair creaking slightly as he leaned back. "You're going to get us caught."

"Caught doing what? Talking? Oh no, Agent Hotchner is talking to his very cute, very charming assistant. The horror!"

"You're flirting," he said plainly, his dark eyes locking with yours.

"Am I?" You asked, tilting your head as if you were confused. "I think I'm just being nice. If you interpret that as flirting, that's really more of a you problem."

Hotch pinched the bridge of his nose, a sure sign that you were about to wear him down. But you could also see the faint pink creep up his neck, and that was enough to make your entire day.

"Anything else?"

"Hmm," you said, pretending to think. "Oh, yeah. One more thing."

Before he could respond, you leaned down and tapped his nose with your finger, your glossed lips shifting into a smirk.

"Boop."

He blinked up at you, utterly unimpressed. "Really?"

"Really."

Hotch shook his head. "You should get back to work."

"Fine," you said, dragging out the word as you turned to leave.

But before you opened the door, you glanced back over your shoulder, your gaze meeting his.

"You know," you said. "You're really cute when you're trying to pretend you don't want to kiss me."

Your name out of his mouth was sharper this time, though his lips twitched in a way that made you feel like you hit the jackpot.

"Okay, okay, I'm going!"

taglist: @readergf @edencherries @aurorsworld @princess76179 @malindacath @freyy253 @broadwaytraaaaash @sunfyyre @sleepysongbirdsings @trulycayla @crouchingapple @navia3000 @aaronlovesava @bakugocanstompme @pansexualhailstorm @averyhotchner @looking1016 @everythinglizzy @sky2nd @messylxve @alexxavicry @yaykeira @spencerssatchel @candyd1es @storiesofsvu @pleasantwitchgarden @kodzukenmaaa @hiireadstuff @dilflover-3 @spenciesslut @phoenix-le-danseur-de-pole @deadofnight0 @sabmichell @jstcln @just-here-to-read13 @c-losur3 @wondergal2001 @oliver-1270 @ssahotchbabe @savagemickey03 @justanotherbimboslxt @imoonkiss @estragos @khxna @mxriesss @de-duchess @raysmayhem-72 @piinksdoll @justyourusualash

join my taglist here

[nxtt2-u]

hush

your boyfriend loves to play with you in bed for hours on end. it’s not your fault you get loud after so much teasing, right?

content info — yang jeongin x afab!reader, 1.4k words, smut, established relationship

content warnings — nsfw, reader has a tummy, no gendered terms but reader has a vagina & boobs

notes — i return from my hiatus bearing this drabble-turned-oneshot as penance. i completely missed kinktober AND kinkmas.... sigh :( oh well, enjoy this lil snippet of dom jeongin!! ^^ smut warnings under the cut

smut warnings — dom/sub dynamics, daddy kink, subspace, fingering, overstimulation, ruined orgasm, heavy petname usage sorry.., face slapping, crying, dacryphilia if you squint, a sprinkle of cockwarming, rough sex, praise and the teensiest bit of degradation(?), tummy cumshot, light aftercare (more done offscreen), mm i think that's it!

“a-ah, ‘yennie, ‘s too much,” you sniffle pathetically, pawing weakly at the hand that’s been toying between your legs for the better part of the last two hours. jeongin coos down at you from where he props himself up on an arm near your side, tilting his head as his lips curl into a smile, deep dimples popping out as if to mock your pitiful state. his other hand stays occupied with your silky heat, and just the sight of the veins protruding in his busy forearm as he works you has you soaking the sheets alone.

“it’s too much, baby?” he echoes condescendingly, eyes crinkling into mirthful crescents at the sound of your pussy squelching obscenely when he finally works two fingers inside your pussy with no resistance. you moan loudly at the delicious stretch of his long, dexterous fingers, delighted at finally having something inside after only being rubbed at and rubbed at up until now, and he grunts in response.

“shit… tight little cunt,” he mutters, crooking his fingers just right to prod at that gooey spot deep within. your whole body jolts as if connected to a live wire, and he moans breathily at the sight. “ah, fuck, is it there, baby? that’s what you want?”

you cry out in response, eyes slamming shut as you nod desperately. your hips begin to hump embarrassingly fast against his palm, but you’re so far gone you can’t even consider stopping yourself. jeongin chuckles at the tears welling up in your eyes as you fuck on his hand like a rabbit in heat, eagerly chasing your orgasm as it draws closer and closer.

he surprisingly allows it without complaint; if you had a drop of coherency left in your cotton-filled brain, you'd question his merciful behavior, but you're submerged too deep in the fuzzy headspace you oh so love to even think about anything other than the pleasure he's giving you. you babble out your incoherent thanks and rut impossibly harder against his palm, but just as your stomach begins to contract and the heat in your abdomen roars to an inferno, he pulls away.

you nearly scream aloud in frustration when your clit pulses angrily at the ruined orgasm. “jeongin!" you wail. "please, don’t be c-cruel,” sniffling, you shove your own hand down to swipe needily at your clit, pretty little head swooning with so much pleasure you can't even consider the consequences your desperation may bring. “need you, daddy, please, please please!” you cry out, frame thrashing wildly against the sheets with how sensitive you are now.

your boyfriend grunts and shifts to loom over you, brushing away his dark bangs so he can see how fucked out you are beneath him. he scoffs once, disbelieving at how you're still babbling and even beginning to drool onto his sheets, before he lands a harsh slap to your cheek. "hush, baby," he spits out, palming his flushed cock right over your heaving soft tummy. the hit leaves your skin hot and stinging in its wake, and you gasp. "god, you're so fucking needy, huh?" he drawls, polishing his tip with a sensitive hiss.

you didn't even realize the slap brought fresh tears to your eyes until they start falling right over the delicate spot where you were struck and you whine, clit pulsing with renewed delight at the pain. it finally manages to shut you up and he smirks when you eventually manage to still and fall silent, save for your intermittent sniffles and heavy breathing. he groans and tips his head forward to press an uncoordinated kiss to your lips at the sight of you peering up at him through wet lashes, patiently waiting for whatever he'll dish out next.

"ah, you're so good to me, sweetheart," jeongin murmurs into your mouth before tangling his tongue with yours. you moan against his lips as he sucks filthily on your tongue, and your noises only grow louder when you feel the head of his cock pressing against your entrance. you break the kiss to pant and stare down at where he pushes in until your head subconsciously falls back against the pillow at the stretch. despite him preparing you with his digits not long ago, it's still a tight fit every time you fuck your boyfriend simply because of his sheer size.

the soaking wet warmth that envelops him must take a toll on him too, especially with how long he's been working the both of you up. jeongin moans at the feeling and his arms begin to shake as he bottoms out. he leans down to lap sloppily at the crook under your jaw while you both catch your breaths. "just warm my cock for a li'l, okay, baby?" he mutters, abs clenching erratically as he does his best to stave off his orgasm. you nod, eager to please and be good, but it doesn't take long before you get squirmy.

who can blame you, though? with his hard cock finally sheathed inside after endless teasing, it's a wonder how you've even held on this long at all. you find yourself writhing again before you know it, fingers threaded into the sheets near your head as you begin to mindlessly beg and tilt your hips up, eager for stimulation. "daddy, please move, plea—"

"sh, shh, angel," he cuts you off, pulling back to loom over you once again. "i know, i know," he croons sweetly when you begin to cry again at the first gentle rolls of his hips. he kisses those salty tears away and begins to thrust harder, rougher, until you're eventually being shifted up the bed with the force and the headboard is rattling against the wall in a steady rhythm.

you don't even register your volume until jeongin is pressing a clammy palm against your mouth to muffle you, still fucking into you like a toy. "shhh, shh," he soothes again, and your eyes roll back when a slight shift of the angle has his tip suddenly pounding into your g-spot. "that's it, sweetheart, just take it. i'll let you come soon, okay? y-you.. fuck," he pants, cock twitching deep inside when you clench hard at his words, "you're so beautiful. milkin' my cock for me, bein' such a good girl, hm?" you whine, eyes slammed shut and brows furrowed in pleasure, and the pornographic moan he lets out at the sight finally tips you over the edge.

"oh, o-oh," jeongin gasps at the way your walls flutter around him, sucking him in deep and demanding his seed. "shit, baby," he grunts, thrusts growing erratic and losing their rhythm as his own orgasm builds impossibly fast. "cream all over my cock like that, and i'll– ah, fuck- cumming cumming—!" he cries; just before you can feel warmth flood your poor, abused pussy, his cock is sliding out of you with an embarrassingly loud noise and he's painting the plush skin below your bellybutton with ropes of white, warm cum.

he jerks and milks himself above you with his eyes pressed shut and mouth wide open as a long, drawn-out groan escapes him. when he's finally spent, he collapses beside you in a sweaty heap with a sated sigh. it's the last thing you see before your eyes drift shut in exhaustion, and when they crack open again he's plastered against your clean stomach, head pillowed happily on a naked boob.

your throat clicks dryly when you try to speak, and he's quick to snap up and fumble with a nearby water bottle, swiftly unscrewing it and pressing it to your lips. when he deems you adequately hydrated, he pulls away and sets it down as you roll your neck around, stretching out your limbs. "hey, sleepyhead. you enjoy your nap?" he grins, returning to his spot amongst your chest. your eyes roll but you give a dopey smile right back, fucked out and soft from the afterglow.

"mhm..." you sigh, tilting his chin up for a kiss. jeongin complies with a happy noise and you pull back before things can get heated again. your poor cunt can't handle another round just yet.

"love you," he murmurs, tucking his face into your neck. you thread your hands through his dark tresses, mussed and a bit smelly from all the activity, but you love it all the same. as his breath begins to peter out into a slower, more even rhythm, your own breath begins to sync as you all but melt into the mattress under his comforting weight. "love you, too," you mutter before slipping off into sleep once more, satisfied, warm, and sated in the arms of the man you love most.