#i just felt the writing of these moments could have been better

[spicyspiders]

with different eyes and no shame

Mark Grayson variant x male reader smut

3.8k words

Stay inside, the text from Mark said.

This had a lot more angst than I expected to write. Warning for smut, bottom male reader, slight bloodplay, slight cum inflation, and the Mark variant being overall rough with the reader. I didn't really have a variant in mind when I was writing this, so any could be thought of when reading :)

Stay inside

The text was only two words, but still managed to send a chill down your spine. An hour later when nothing has happened, you can feel your body slowly relax. Still, you can’t help but look out your window one last time to make sure whatever Mark wanted you to stay inside and avoid has passed. 

A part of you felt hysterical as you looked out the window. You weren’t sure if being friends with a superhero and everything that came with that was now catching up with you, or if it was from your brain trying to focus on everything your eyes outside were trying to track. 

You hear the sound of a thump in your bedroom, signaling that Mark is here. It was a habit he developed over time you thought was silly, reminding you so much of when you were younger. You hoped Mark would grow out of it, but maybe it was a superhero rule he had that he could only fly through windows when entering homes. 

“I have a front door, you know,” you say, swinging your bedroom door open. The sun had gone down by the time Mark had texted and you managed to calm down, making the walk to your bedroom dark, and the state of your bedroom wasn’t any better. 

Mark almost looked ominous standing in what little light was left from the day, his back facing the window. Your first clue should have been the color of his suit, but you were too stupid to realize. 

“Mark?” You asked, “is everything okay?”

“Why wouldn’t everything be okay?” He questioned back with a chuckle.

“You told me to stay inside,” you answered in confusion, “and is that a new suit?” You asked as Mark slowly turned around, your eyes glued to his seemingly new suit, “did something happen to the one you just got?”

“You worry too much,” Mark responded, still shrouded in the shadows. He stepped out of the darkness slowly, making it known that this wasn’t your Mark, “you both did,” he said, his voice low. 

Your heart pounded in your chest, growing faster and faster as Mark came closer, “who are you?” You whispered, backing up slowly. 

“I’m Mark,” he responds with a smile. 

You continue inching backward, shaking your head, “who are you?” You repeat, your back coming into contact with your wall. 

Mark’s smile turns sinister, “I’m Mark,” he says again, “and I already know what you’re thinking, and yes, I’m not your Mark,” he backs you further into the wall, making you hope that you would somehow fall through. But if this Mark was anything like yours, he’d easily be able to follow. “I also know that you’re thinking about running,” he lets out a laugh before he continues, “but I’ll break your fucking legs if you try.”

“Please,” you whisper, turning your face away when Mark’s hands reach out, “don’t hurt me,” you say, closing your hands when you feel his fingers on your face. 

“I’d never hurt you,” Mark says, forcefully turning your head to face him. 

After moments of tense silence, you open your eyes slowly to look at Mark, his gaze fixed upon you with an unreadable expression. 

“I’d never hurt you,” he repeats, “I finally have you again,” he says, his tone matching his soft words, but it doesn’t last. “I won’t lose you,” he growls, his voice dark and full of promise. And with those words, he seals that promise with a kiss. 

You weren’t even sure if kiss was the right word to call it, it felt like Mark– this version of Mark was trying to devour you whole. Though he looked and sounded like Mark, you knew this version wasn’t yours, but that didn’t stop the overwhelming rush of emotions. 

There was a longing for Mark that had gotten to the point where you didn’t remember when it started, and had gone on for so long, that you didn’t know if it would ever. You had just managed to somehow get it to the point that you were happy. 

You loved Mark, and Eve nearly as long as you’d known her, so you wanted them to be happy. There were moments where it could feel bittersweet not only to see the man you had feelings for get with someone else, but to see that other person be someone you also cared about. There were also moments though, ones that had come up much more frequently where you felt hopeful. Hopeful that you were moving on, and hopeful for the future. 

You just didn’t think that who you would be moving on with would be another version of who you originally fell for. If moving on was even what you could call it, you weren’t sure if the phrase could be used in situations where it was being forced onto you. 

Though you knew this one wasn’t your Mark, your treacherous body still responded like it was. You shuddered at the feel of Mark's tongue pushing its way past your lips, an idea popping into your brain when in his conquest to dominate your mouth, it ran over your teeth. You squash the idea of biting Mark’s tongue seconds after it’s hatched, the image of him doing more than breaking your legs like he promised if you tried to run flashing through your mind.

Tears fall from your eyes when Mark finally pulls away, his eyes opening to then quickly filling with concern. You had spent what felt like hours, maybe even days imagining what your first kiss with Mark would be like, and in moments where you were thinking with your dick and not your brain, it would think of what kisses would be like that were filled with more passion and energy. And though your body was already responding to just the one kiss, the rational part of you was still there to remind you that this wasn’t your Mark.

“It’s okay,” Mark whispered, wiping your tears away, and then kissing up the tracks they left. “I have you,” he said, resting his cheek against yours, the words sounding like he wasn’t just saying them to you, but saying them to himself like he hadn’t quite come to the realization. 

“Why are you doing this?” You asked, your eyes slipping shut, thinking that if you closed your eyes to it, it would be easier to ignore, “what happened to the me from your universe?” You forced your eyes open, waiting for Mark to respond. 

Mark’s face goes stormy and full of emotion before he breaks eye contact, “gone,” he says, his eyes flicking back up. He steps closer, his hands moving down to your shoulders, “taken from me before I realized how I felt,” he said before he pulled your body into his chest in a tight embrace, “I won’t let that happen again.”

You have to force yourself to breathe, trying to calm your racing heart. What takes longer is getting your arms to move. A part of you thinks that if you just give in and give this Mark what he wants, then he’ll leave, but another part of you, bigger than you wanted to admit, responded to the fact that this was probably the closest to getting something you always wanted. 

You wrap your arms slowly around Mark, trying to not feel the way your heart broke at the small, wounded noise Mark made. You hated the way you could relate to this Mark, knowing that you could find comfort in each other based on the things you lost and couldn’t have. 

Mark pulls you closer, his head going into the space between your neck and shoulder. His nose went beneath the collar of your shirt as he nuzzled the skin he could find. His hands ran up and down your back as his lips came into contact with your skin, much softer than you expected. 

You shiver at the feel of his lips on your skin, your body seemingly moving on its own to give Mark more room as you let your head fall back onto the wall. You gasp when his lips kiss softly up your neck and along your jaw, your eyes opening once more when you feel the puff of Mark’s breath on your face. 

As Mark’s face slowly inches closer, his eyes flick between yours and your lips. The kiss he pressed to your lips was the complete opposite of the last, but you’re still slow to respond. Once you do, Mark’s hands are on your face to angle the kiss into how he wants it. 

Mark’s tongue swipes along your bottom lip, asking for entrance. It pushes in slowly when you open up seconds later, and this time, you both let out noises of pleasure when his tongue brushes against yours. 

Mark lets you pull away from the kiss, his head falling onto your shoulder as you gasp for air. He runs his hands back down your body, going lower than you expect them to when they grab your lower thighs. 

He hoists you up, your legs going to wrap around his waist as you let out an embarrassing squeak.

“I have you,” Mark says, his voice light, almost teasingly so. And if this Mark had powers that were anything like your Mark’s, he was completely right. No, you’ve never been flying like William had to know if Mark was able to hold you, but you had seen Mark on the news using his powers, so you had no doubt in your mind that he was able to lift you. 

“C’mon!” William had said in the parking lot to the restaurant you had dinner at on your last birthday, “it’s his birthday! You’ve got to take him flying!”

“I don’t want to go flying,” you said to William, “and besides,” you said with a laugh, “I don’t need you asking for me,” you said with another laugh as William pouted. 

“Then can you ask him to take me flying?” William asked, you and Mark looking at each other. 

“Why would Mark take you flying for his birthday?” Eve asked between laughter. 

“Because,” William started, his face going red as he tried to think of a response, and once he did, his eyes lit up, “he told me that for his birthday he wanted Mark to take me flying,” he finished, crossing his arms.

“Did you,” Eve asked, elbowing you softly. 

“Yeah,” Mark chimed in, “did you?” He asked as he rolled his eyes.

You looked between the three of them, Eve smiling at you, Mark looking unimpressed, and William staring at you with both brows raised as he nodded. “Oh yeah! I did forget that I promised William that I would ask.”

Eve nearly doubled over with laughter, his face nearly going as bright as her hair as Mark swooped William up. 

“Where are they going?” Amber asked after she walked up, to-go cup in hand. 

It was like this Mark was able to read your mind to know yours had never taken you flying as he floats you the few feet to your bed. You weren’t sure if it counted, but your arms and legs still tightened around him nonetheless.

You landed softly onto the bed, Mark murmuring a soft I’ve got you before his lips were against yours once again. Your legs loosened around Mark, and even as he let out a noise of protest, your feet came to rest on the bed. 

Your arms loosened just enough to get one of your hands in Mark’s hair, which was just as soft as you imagined your Mark’s would be. You moaned into Mark’s mouth when he rocked his hips down into yours, your fingers tightening around the strands between your fingers. 

Mark pulled away with a growl before he started wrestling his suit off. You had fantasized about this moment more times than you could count after you found out Mark was Invincible. If you were honest, since before then, too. There was just something about skin-tight costumes that got you going. Most of them, of course, being you helping him out of his suit, but now, with how fervently he was going at it, you kept your hands to yourself. 

It was almost funny watching him get the top portion off, but you could blame that on the hysterical feeling of this situation feeling as unreal as it did. 

You had seen Mark shirtless only a few times before, but this was completely different from the shy glances you managed to peek at. 

Mark gave you no choice but to touch his body as he ducked back down into another kiss, your fingers meeting hot skin. There was something dark and powerful underneath Mark’s skin, something that felt so much more different from the other men you’d had in your bed. 

You ran your hands up his body, starting from his abs to his upper chest, Mark letting out a soft groan when your hands brushed his nipples. 

“You have no idea how much I’ve wanted this,” he growled after he pulled away from the kiss. Ducking back down, he instead went lower to get his mouth against your neck. 

I think I have an idea, you opened your mouth to say, but all that came out was a moan when Mark’s teeth sank into your skin. The sound only spurs Mark on as he moves to another spot to leave a trace. 

“Mark,” you hiss, unable to contain the next noise you let out as Mark’s teeth sink in deep, breaking the skin.

Mark moans around the skin between his teeth, his tongue running over the skin seconds later. As he laps at the skin, Mark rolls his hips into yours, outright humping you. He pulls back from your neck, meeting your eye as he licks his lips. 

You tremble under the dark look he fixes you with, watching as he gets off the bed to get the bottom of his suit down, “take that off,” he commands, “unless you want me to tear it off,” he smirks as he continues on, “I’m fine with either one.”

“Good boy,” he murmurs as you start pulling your clothes off. Once you are fully naked and your clothes are in a pile beside the bed, Mark steps back up to the bed. “Let me look at you,” he says, wrapping a hand around his cock. 

You watch the almost hypnotic motion of Mark slowly stroking his cock, licking your lips when you see a pearly bead of precum fall from the head and down onto your floor. You feel your cock give a twitch of interest as it grows hard between your spread legs. 

You look back up to Mark watching you, and you quickly look away, knowing you’ve been caught. The look on his face didn’t look angry, though, it was smug and full of heat. “You can look,” he says, “it’s all yours.”

Your head snaps up at the declaration, your cock giving another twitch. Your throat suddenly feels dry when you try and swallow, “does that mean I’m yours?” You croak, your gaze falling from Mark. 

Mark lets out a proud laugh, and when you look back up at the sound, you’re met with a faceful of cock. Strong fingers move under your chin to tilt your head up so you meet his eye, “you’ve been mine since I found out you were here, sweetheart,” he says, “now,” he lets go of your face to look around, “where’s your lube?”

You roll over to crawl up the bed, reaching out to grab the handle of your nightstand. Mark chooses the moment you’re balanced on one hand to lay a smack to your ass, catching you off guard. 

You’re proud of yourself for not falling face-first into your comforter, and pause from digging through your drawer to turn and glare at Mark. 

“Sorry,” he says, his arms crossed over his chest, not looking or sounding sorry at all, “couldn’t help it.”

You toss the lube in Mark’s general direction and try your best not to slam the drawer closed. You laid your head down on your pillows, biting your lip as you most certainly weren’t waiting for Mark to spank you again. 

Instead, Mark runs his hands slowly over the globes of your ass, “I mean,” he says as he lifts your hips and gets you onto your knees. “Can you blame me?” He asks as he spreads you open. 

He catches you off guard once more as he dives in, licking a broad over your hole. The shock of it punches a sound of surprise from your open mouth as your cock throbs between your legs. 

Mark lays a few more broad strokes, occasionally licking over your balls and taint on the way to your hole. You groan when he zeros in, licking over your hole until it’s relaxed enough that his tongue can lick inside.

You moan into your pillow as Mark fucks his tongue inside, his tongue coating your walls with his spit. Mark answers with a moan of his own, the vibration going straight to your now hard cock. 

“Taste so fuckin’ good,” Mark says as he pulls back, but not before smacking your ass one last time. He bites into the other untouched cheek, his hands coming to grip your hips in an iron-tight grasp. You whimper into the pillow, having no choice but to let Mark bite you. 

With a kiss pressed to the spot, Mark finally pulls back. You’re left with an aching spot that you were sure was going to look like the one he made earlier on your neck. 

The sound of the lube opening is loud in your ears before it goes quiet once more. Though you were anticipating it, you still jump when the pad of Mark’s lubed fingers runs over your hole. What you always thought would be slow and soft was instead fast and hard, giving you no room to breathe as two of Mark’s fingers sank inside. 

You hissed around the burn deep inside, but of course, Mark gave you no time to focus on that either as his fingers found your prostate. 

“There we go,” he said, and though you couldn’t see his face, you could hear how smug he sounded, “gonna break my fingers, baby,” he said, already adding a third finger. “So fuckin’ tight,” he groans as he pushes his fingers deep. 

Feeling full already, it’s hard to imagine how his cock was going to feel, but when after a few moments Mark pulled his fingers free, you knew you needed what little time you had to mentally prepare.

Vulgarly, Mark smacks the head of his cock against your stretched hole. You gasp when Mark grabs your ass in his hands, his fingers digging into the bruise he left on one of your cheeks. He takes the time to continue teasing you, this time by squeezing your ass cheeks together and fucking his cock between the tight space. 

You turn your head to look back at Mark, “the condom,” you said, whimpering through the pain as Mark squeezed the globes of your ass tighter. 

Mark leaned down to lay his body along your back, “thanks for reminding me to throw those away,” he whispered into your ear, feeling his smile on the shell of your ear, “you won’t be needing those anymore,” he said darkly. 

With that statement, Mark brought his hips up and pressed the head of his slick cock to your hole. In one steady thrust, Mark bottoms out. His hands lock around your hips, keeping your body tightly pressed to his as his moans of pleasure go from his chest and vibrate through your back. 

You turn your head back into the pillow to muffle the sound you made, unknown to your ears whether it was of pleasure or pain. You clench down around the intrusion, the burn of it lighting up your entire body. 

You gasp into the pillow, making it hard to respond to the kiss Mark initiates. You weren’t all too sure about the other half that Mark was, but if the way this Mark kissed you taught you anything, it was that he didn’t need to breathe in the same way did. 

Maybe it will get better over time. The thought made your cock twitch thinking about already going at it again when the round you were in now hadn’t even really begun. 

Mark didn’t seem to mind though as he licked inside your mouth. On his tongue, you tasted the slight remnants of musk, lighting up your tastebuds. Mark pulled back at the same time as his hips did, his head falling onto your shoulder on the thrust back in. 

The only space Mark left between your bodies was just enough for him to fuck in and out of your body, your hole soon becoming accustomed to his cock. There was no question as to if your moans were of pleasure or pain minutes later as Mark’s cock rammed into your prostate on each thrust in. 

There was no time to chase the pleasure as it left when Mark pulled out, because it was there again and again, shooting sparks across your body. It was building to the end that you quickly felt approaching, feeling as if you weren’t going there, but instead, it was forcing its way to you. 

You reached between your legs to wrap your hand around your leaky cock, “that’s it, baby,” Mark said, his lips dragging along your shoulder as he spoke. His pace going too fast to try and match, you stroked your cock to your own messy pace, only taking a few pulls for your body to seize up as you came. 

Your eyes rolled back into your head, the pleasure too intense for your body to seemingly handle before blacking out. You came to on your side, Mark’s body spooned against yours. 

“Relax,” he hissed, and if he was trying to help, his arms tightening around your body sure didn’t assist as he held you in a nearly too-tight embrace. “That’s it,” he murmured as he felt your body relax.   

Mark’s cock still buried inside you, you clenched down around his cock, your own giving a pathetic throb of interest. “How’re you still,” you began to ask, but when Mark’s cock brushed your prostate, you gasped. 

“It takes a little while,” he said, pressing his smile into the back of your neck, “can you feel it?” He asked as he ran his hand across your stomach. 

You shivered as Mark ran his hand over your stomach. You felt full, but not uncomfortably so. 

“Is this what it’s always going to be like?” You asked, grimacing as you felt his cum slip free past Mark’s still-hard cock. 

“Guess we’ll have to find out,” he said as he kissed along the back of your neck, but something told you he already knew the answer. 

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Can you write a Dream BBQ Ena x Emotionless Reader?

More spefically Ena and Reader have been partners for a long time Ena being the more emotional one while Reader barely smiles in a year but then one time after a particularly brutal day of typical rejection and dislike bb people Ena feels more down then usual and finds a letter in her room that simply and basically says "I'll always be right beside you ~reader"

Thanks!

When Ena first started dating you, she knew that you'd come as a "surprise package deal". Never knowing how you'll act and being ready for anything.

However, she notices that package was severely lacking in "emotional factor"--more specifcally, you didn't show much emotion.

You carried only 0.5% of the emotional capacity in this relationship, while she conquered the other 99.5%...and it's been that way for the longest time.

No matter what shenanigans you both got up to while carrying out assignments, she has yet to see you crack a smile.

Of course, you'd express annoyance, discontent, and the like with your job. But she cannot recall a single time she's seen you smile.

There was one occasion where she saw a brief twitch of your lips after a rude customer spontaneously combusted...but that was a year ago, and she's certain her memory of that specific moment is thoroughly infaccurate.

Despite her best efforts, she can't get you to smile for her.

Even when Salesperson flirts with you and gives you hugs, or when Meanie demands you to "stop looking so damn heartless"....your expression barely wavers.

The truth is that it's not "trauma" or anything significant in your life that's made you become emotionless.

You've always been like this. It's that simple.

But apparently Ena thinks there's a deeper meaning, and she's desperate to unlock that mystery someday.

Froggy doesn't think it's a big deal, as smiling's not part of your job description nor any criteria, but she insists he'd never understand the "unique partnership" you two have.

One day, she goes off on a solo assignment...and has some deep regrets on not inviting you along when everybody she spoke to was extra rude, getting her name wrong, and/or threatening her with violence simply for existing.

Normally, she wouldn't have a care in the world....until one client in particular mocked that she'd never find love and that in the unlikely event she did have a partner...they'd be "absolutely disgusted".

Nothing even warranted that outburst.

She only did them a kind favor and that's their repayment.

But....could it be true?

That your emotionless demeanor was directed to her and her alone? Were you telling her she was disgusting and abhorrent to be around without saying a word? Did you only stay with her for the benefits?

The thoughts wouldn't leave her head as she dragged herself home, throwing her hat off and flopping onto the bed, the weight of that stranger's words pressing down on her like a bag of anvils.

"Maybe this was a pointless endeavor. They deserve better. I'm just a lower class citizen...chasing a pipe dream.." She mumbles into a pillow, ready to accept and sink into her depression--

But then her clawed hand makes contact with a piece of paper. Something she hasn't noticed before.

Turning her head, she realizes that it's a letter addressed to her. From you.

She expects the worst. Your resignation from this partnership. An eviction notice. An itemized list of grievances.

But it's none of the above.

Instead, what you wrote to her felt like you've given her the winning lottery numbers.

"I may not express it as often as I should, but I love you, Ena. And I'll always be right beside you--[Y/N]"

"P.S. Here's that smile you've always wanted :)"

In an micro-instant, she went from wanting to sob into her pillow to hugging it as she giggles like a schoolgirl, reading the note over and over again.

Suddenly, her world's not imploding anymore.

Suddenly, life's worth living again.

Because you showed her that you cared in other ways.

[kabsey]

Hey, I really love your thoughts and writing... how about "Boys Night" from the Wholesome Prompts? 🙂 Anything come to mind?

Thank you so much! <3 I had so many different thoughts for this prompt, but this is the one that stuck. Not quite a boys' night per se, but it is a boys' chat and it is at night 😊

-------

When the knock came, Viago glared at the door over the top of his reading glasses. The runner wasn't due for another hour, and he could not imagine who else Marta would allow to approach his study when she knew exactly how tall the stack of his correspondence had grown (she was the one who brought him the post, after all). Rook or Teia wouldn't have even bothered to knock.

Which left Viago no choice but to pause in his writing with a stifled sigh and a curt "Yes?"

The door opened, and the figure who entered explained all: the First Talon went where he liked. If it had been Caterina, Viago would have set his letter aside and risen to greet her.

Instead Viago resumed writing, though he paid Lucanis the courtesy of asking, "Is this urgent business, or can it wait a moment?"

"It can wait."

Lucanis crossed to the bookshelf, his near-silent footsteps drowned out by the scratching of Viago's quill. From the corner of his eye, Viago watched him peruse the shelves with his hands clasped behind his back. Two fingers on his right hand twitched in an uneven rhythm, a fidgety agitation that no lesser Crow would dare display in front of a Talon. From Lucanis Dellamorte, whose knuckles were striped with crisscrossed scars from Caterina's cane, it either spoke to his comfort with Viago or a mind very ill at ease. Possibly both.

Viago ended the letter with the correct signature (he had a variation for each of his regular correspondents, making a fake easier to spot) and set the page atop the outgoing post to let the ink dry. He wiped the nib of his quill, capped his bottle of ink, and placed both items in his desk drawer with his glasses. The soft sound of the drawer closing drew Lucanis's attention, and Viago gestured for him to take the seat across from his desk.

When he was seated, he opened his mouth to speak, but Viago cut him off with a raised hand.

"I can guess why you're here," he said, folding his hands back over his desk. "You want to make Rook a Dellamorte."

Lucanis raised an eyebrow, but a corner of his lips lifted in a self-deprecating smile. "I suppose my intentions have been fairly obvious."

Viago huffed a laugh. "Yours and half of Antiva's."

Lucanis's smile vanished. "Meaning?"

"Meaning I have received inquiries from the head of every House and even some of the merchant guilds besides." As if Rook would stoop to playing bodyguard to some bloated princeling.

For a brief moment, Lucanis's eyes flashed violet. Viago tensed and curled his fingers around the knife strapped to the underside of his chair arm, but Lucanis shook his head and turned to the thin air to his right, one hand lifted in a placating gesture. "Calm down."

"Apologies," he said as he looked back to Viago, and Viago relaxed his hand. "We're just surprised to hear it. Does Rook know? She's never mentioned it."

Viago frowned. "Of course she does. Do you think I would simply ship her off somewhere with no consideration for her opinion?"

"No, of course not," Lucanis assured him. His gaze dropped to Viago's desk as he fell silent. Viago wondered what the demon had to say about the matter. He probably didn't want to know.

"As far as I'm aware," he said, and Lucanis's eyes immediately returned to his, "Rook has no intention of accepting any of these other offers."

Some of the tension left Lucanis's frame, and Viago felt almost reluctant to continue, though he knew frankness was the better road.

"But you should know, I don't believe she intends to accept yours either."

Lucanis stiffened, tense again to the point of shock. "You... What makes you say that?"

"She's expressed to me that she's happy in my House." Viago was not one for providing comfort, but he knew his words were a blow to Lucanis, so he attempted to choose less direct phrasing than he might have. "She's endured a great deal in the past year. You both have. For the moment, she seems to crave the stability of the familiar rather than jumping into something new."

Lucanis's eyes fluttered briefly shut, in an attempt to control either the demon's reaction or his own. But when he opened them, he nodded.

"I'm glad you told me," he said. "It's something I hadn't considered. Perhaps I should have." A hint of a sad smile crossed his face. "You have to be the one to break it to Teia though. She was so sure Rook would say yes."

Viago raised an eyebrow. "You spoke to Teia about this?" Before Lucanis could answer, he shook his head. "Don't listen to her on the subject of Rook. She's always wanted her for herself."

Lucanis stared back at him, lips parted. "She has?"

"Does that surprise you?" Viago asked. Perhaps Lucanis had not paid much attention previously to the movement of Crows between Houses. Teia was notorious for attempting to charm away promising talent.

"A bit," Lucanis admitted. "You don't seem troubled by the idea."

Viago waved a hand. "We have an arrangement."

Lucanis looked even more nonplussed. "You do?"

"Of course." Viago stroked his beard as he considered the future. "We should probably include you as well moving forward."

An odd red flush crept across Lucanis's face. "Include me? In your... arrangement with Teia?"

Viago frowned. "You don't wish to be involved? Your grandmother always—"

One of Lucanis's hands shot up to stop Viago's words, while the other pinched the bridge of his nose. "Viago, I am starting to think—and really, sincerely hope—that we are talking about two different things."

Viago's frown deepened. "We're discussing Rook joining your House."

Lucanis's shoulders shook with silent laughter, and when he looked up, he was smiling. "We're discussing Rook joining my household. I'm going to ask her to marry me, Viago."

"Oh."

That had been such a foregone conclusion that Viago usually forgot it hadn't been formally settled, except for the moments when Teia griped about Lucanis taking too long. They'd already spent whole evenings with her sharing her thoughts on centerpieces and color coordination and other details that Viago couldn't follow, though he attempted to appear interested enough that he would not be kicked out of their bed.

He looked at the rest of the correspondence he had meant to address in annoyance. The runner would arrive any moment.

"You don't need her Talon's permission for that," he groused.

Lucanis only laughed again. "Of course not. But I would like to know that we would have the blessing of her family."

"Rook isn't—"

The automatic denial died on his lips at Lucanis's knowing look. He much preferred when the First Talon bestowed that smug expression on his rivals. Viago closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead.

"Fine. Yes. You have it. Go find her and let me work in peace."

Ever a wise man, Lucanis said nothing more but simply rose and left Viago alone in his study. For all that Teia enjoyed the idea, he had a very difficult time reconciling Rook with a word such as "wife." When he tried, all his mind would conjure was the memory of an underfed girl with a messy braid and bare feet. But not that long ago, he would never have been able to associate the word "hero" with Rook either.

Since he'd managed the one, he was fairly certain that with time, he would manage the other.

[aspergerasparagus]

Patch Job (White RabbitxGN!Reader)

Request: Oh dear, it appears after getting a little trigger happy with trying to lure Dante towards him, he damaged his mask in the process, perhaps you, the Reader, Y/N, whatever you call yourself could have some quality time together while you fix that mask of his and making a few improvements..?

(You can tell I don't write reader fics very often but I did try. Also it wasn't supposed to be this long but again woops.)

Honestly he should have known better. Maybe he was getting cocky? Maybe having Dante almost in his grasp made him slip up? Regardless it didn’t matter, what had been done had been done and now he was paying the price for his stupidity. Sighing the rabbit looked at himself in the bathroom mirror of some random slum he’d taken refuge in from his last battle, the glass was cracked and it was a miracle that this place even still had electricity as the naked blub above him flickered, threatening to go out at any second. But it would be enough, he’d been in worse after all. Looking over his mask he cursed himself under his breath as he surveyed the damage the son of Sparta had done. Admittedly he’d gotten off scot free, not a scratch on him, his “face” on the other hand was a different story.

Grumbling he picked at the broken stitching, his “real” face visible from beneath it now. He’d need to repair it quickly but given that he didn’t exactly have any supplies here and it wasn’t like he could go out like this. It would ruin everything. Growling he smashed his hand into the mirror, destroying what was left of it with his fist. Stupid, stupid, stupid! Collecting himself he took a deep breath before straightening up. He’d have to quickly try to locate some supplies to fix this, at least under the cover of night he’d been harder to spot but he couldn’t help but grimace at the idea of trying to waltz into some haberdashery and purchase some fresh thread and needles. Tutting he resigned himself to just breaking into somewhere like some common thug before turning on his heel, as if this night could get any worse…

Surprisingly the rabbit managed to locate a craft shop after not too long of searching. It was a small little place, tucked out of the way, far from prying eyes. Perfect. Slinking his way out from the alleyway he’d been tucked away in he swiftly made his way over until there was movement within the darkened windows. Someone was still inside? At this time? Gritting his teeth he faltered for a moment before shrugging, at least he wouldn’t have to break in now. Holding back he waited until the employee finally emerged from the shop, they were carrying a bag and turned their back to him as they began to fish about for the keys to lock up. He didn’t give them a chance to scream as he clamped a hand over their mouth, the keys tumbling from their hands as their fingers as their eyes snapped wide, fear gripping them. 

“One word, one movement, and I’ll snap your neck like a toothpick. Is that understood? Now open the shop up and walk back inside. I’ve already had a terrible day so one wrong move and I’ll make sure I’ll leave you as a surprise for your boss to clean up in the morning. Now get back inside.”

Of course he was a bit more forceful than he would typically be, but he was irritated and taking out on the human was at least making him feel a little better. The sooner he could get his mask fixed the sooner he could get back to his mission. The human trembled in his grip, they were considerably shorter than himself so he towered over them, plunging them into his shadow as they frantically tried to open the door.

“P-Please don’t hurt me-”

“What did I just say about talking?” 

He cut them off as their timid voice cut through the ambient hum of the night. He felt them nervously swallow before they managed to pry the key into the lock. Pushing them both through the door, he quickly slammed the door, locking it again. No disturbances. Especially while he would be so vulnerable…

Rounding back onto the human, their eyes were still locked forwards, too terrified to look up or to try to make a break for it. They surely must have heard about all the demon attacks going on. At least that would keep them compliant. 

“Now, where do you keep your needles and thread?” 

His voice cut through the tension as the human in his grip jumped slightly, startled by his voice, or maybe it was the request itself.

“Needles and thread? You’re not here to rob me?”

Sighing, the rabbit just tutted and shook his head.

“Do I look like someone who needs money? Now where are the needles and thread, I warn you I don’t like having to repeat myself.”

A small squeak escaped the human before they pointed in quickly to a display to the side. A range of needles and thread littered the wall. Perfect!

“Thank you, and my apologies for all this. I’m not typically so thuggish but I’m a little desperate at the moment.” 

Finally releasing them the rabbit made his way over to the display, quickly grabbing what he could. 

“What are you trying to repair?”

His ears twitched as the human’s suddenly piped up, glancing out of the corner of his eyes, he regarded them before turning back.

“I broke into your establishment, threatened you and am now stealing thread. And that’s what you’re asking me?”

“Well, those threads are only meant for simple embroidery, if you need something more durable I might be able to suggest something…” 

He heard them trail off, as they began to fiddle with their hands, eyes glancing around the room as if they were mulling over their options, as if they were just helping any other customer who just happened to waltz into the store looking for help with a project. Unbelievable. But not unwelcome. 

“I… I need to repair something that was damaged during a fight. I need something that’s strong enough to hold up, at least until I can repair it properly myself.”

“Oh, is it your suit? A torn panel maybe?” 

Amused, the rabbit just turned and pointed at their torn face, chuckling as the human went pale and flinched back slightly, obviously shocked by the fact he needed to perform what most people would call a surgery rather than a simple patch job.

“It’s a bit more complicated than a mere tear in some fabric. But nothing that I can’t fix with the right equipment. Any suggestions?”

He’d admit he was tickled by the little human and it made a nice change, considering most humans he’d met so far had been cruel, abusive or just straight up tried to shoot him. Admittedly the last one was to be expected but regardless it was a nice change of pace.

“Well human, I’d love to hear your feedback.”

Snapping back he watched as they began to stumble over their words before biting their tongue and trying to calm themselves.

“Nylon thread is one of the strongest thread types, typically used for leatherwork and the such but um, maybe something stronger for… your needs will be needed. Hold on.” 

Before he could object he watched as they scampered off towards the back of the shop, disappearing between the labyrinth of craft supplies and fabric samples. The rabbit could just stare in disbelief before groaning and readying the sword on his back, ready to chase them down and cut them down. He really was getting sloppy. But just as he was about to level the building they reappeared again, scampering up to him with a needle and a spool of some black thread.

“This is um kevlar thread, it’s typically only used for very high stress applications like high stress clothing and machinery but it could work for you. It’s very durable and probably the strongest stuff on the market! We only stock a small quantity of it but um…”

The rabbit just regarded them before he burst out into a bout of loud laughter, causing the little human to panic and jump out of their skin. Oh now this human was amusing! Slipping the sword back onto his back, he took the supplies from them, eyeing them over quickly.

“Yes I think that would do very nicely. Thank you my dear. Now to find a mirror…”

“W-we don’t have one in store I’m sorry.”

“Doesn’t matter, you know your way around a needle I’m sure. You can do it. Probably do a better job than I would.”

“W-what!? I-I can’t sew your face up! I’m not a surgeon. B-besides won’t it hurt like hell?!” The rabbit just scoffed and grabbed them by the scruff of their shirt, rolling his eyes as he dragged them to one of the tables at the back.

“Doesn’t matter, I'm sure you’ll do a fantastic job. Besides, I've endured worse. A couple of minutes of being stabbed by a needle will be nothing more than an insect bite.” The human tried to protest again, wriggling in his grip but soon resigned themselves as he felt them slouch and mutter to themselves they knew they shouldn’t have swapped shifts.

Plopping them down, the rabbit flipped a lamp on before sitting down himself, laying out the supplies.

“Now, make sure the stitching can hold, I don’t want it breaking again. It would be inconvenient for both of us if I have to come back again because of your poor sewing skills.”

The human suddenly looked annoyed as they huffed, pouting slightly at the fact someone was questioning their skills.

“I’ll have you know that I am pretty skilled with a needle, so I won’t take any criticism before you’ve seen my work. How rude.”

The rabbit was taken aback and couldn’t help as he let out a roar of laughter, the human jumping in front of him.

“Oh how cute! Now that’s unexpected, a human with a backbone, how charming.” 

Slipping an arm over his chest, he bowed his head slightly, flashing the human a smirk.

“My apologies, I didn’t mean to doubt your skill, my dear. I’ll let your work talk for you then.” 

Seeing a flashing of a blush on their cheeks, he could only chuckle as they tried to play it off, huffing before they motioned him to lean down so they could assess the damage.

You looked over the tear, it was luckily across what seemed some sort of the seam that ran along the demons’ face. It should be easy to repair, but sewing together skin and fur was nothing like trying to sew together fabrics! Of course you were stressed but at least the rabbit, well the demon, in front of you didn’t seem to want to rip you apart, for now. Sighing, you gently folded the seams together as the rabbit watched you, their eyes fixed on your face, observing every action and twitch in your face. Looking for anything they didn’t like, or simply studying you. It was hard to say, but it was certainly getting to you. You could feel your cheeks going pink as they huffed softly, leaning in gently to your touch as you pet the soft white fur on their head. This really shouldn’t be as distracting as it was but it was getting harder and harder to focus now! Stupid bunny demon!

Trying your best to focus you quickly started, the needle and thread easily piercing through the soft flesh and quickly beginning to pull the skin back into place. You tried hard to try and not focus on it, just thinking about what you were doing, who or what you were doing it to, was making your palms sweat and a trembling hand would never get this done. There was also the small fact you hoped you weren’t hurting the bunny. But he didn’t seem to take much notice of the needle stabbing into him, instead his attention was focused squarely on you. You really wished he would stop looking up at you with those eyes of his!

“Your hands are shaking my dear. Don’t worry, I don’t bite.”

You jumped as he spoke, that deep, low voice of his catching you off guard as you were trying to pay attention to the task at hand.

“W-well it’s not like I stitch demons together very often. I have every right to be nervous! I don’t know what you’ll do…”

The rabbit hummed, amused by your answer more than anything.

“That’s true, but not all demons are your enemy. Some of us can be rather charming if given a chance.”

He flashed you a quick wink making your face erupt with heart as the obvious blush crept across your cheeks. The cheek on this bunny rabbit! Pouting you stabbed the needle into his flesh for the last time, maybe a little rougher than you needed to as you saw him flinch slightly. But it seemed he agreed that he might have deserved that.

Pouting you quickly trimmed the excess thread before gently holding the demon’s cheeks as you examined the stitching. Not your finest work, but it would certainly hold you. Hopefully.

“There you’re all done, it shouldn’t come undone again. In theory anyway. You wanna take the thread in case? It’s not like I can sell it now anyway…”

As you spoke you watched as the rabbit straightened back up, feeling over the stitching himself, his fingers trailing over the once torn face, accessing the workmanship. Then after a moment or so he smiled at you, his eyes squinting slightly as he seemed genuinely impressed and pleased with your work.

“I must commend your work, you really didn’t sell yourself short my dear. And yes I think it might be for the best.”

Reaching out he took the supplies from your hand, but before you could pull your hand away, he quickly grasped your hand in his own. You couldn’t pull away, even if you had wanted to, he was far too strong. Obviously this must be it you thought, as your mind raced but instead of yanking you forward to tear you to shreds, the rabbit instead brought you hand up to his lips, placing a gentle kiss against it.

“However, maybe you should keep it. You never know when I might need another repair job and you have done such a fantastic job with my repairs.”

Unable to take it any more, you huffed and pulled your hand free, yelling at the demon to get out of your store as the creature only just let out another loud laugh, the enjoyment from teasing you only tickling him even more. Demons really were the worst!

[chrystal-ink]

Okay, so first off, the hedgehog harem prologue? Amazing! Loved it and looking forward to how this progresses. I couldn’t help but notice something…

Now this is about Tower who I assume is Boom!Shadow (if I’m wrong, please correct me I did the best I could keeping track of which one was which). If I have that correct…

I find it hilarious that the most aggressive Shadow fell for y/n the quickest 😂 (original Shadow excluded, obviously). Didn’t even have anything done for him like the others and yet he’s already hooked.

Btw, love your take on Lancelot and his lack of modern day knowledge, especially birth control!😂😂😂 he’s going to view so many things as some sort of magic or witchcraft 😅. Go easy on the poor guy, he at least has the excuse of not knowing any better.

Thank you so much for enjoying it! I really appreciate it! So sorry for taking so long to reply I’ve been sick and haven’t felt up to writing or doing much of anything this past week but I’m finally starting to feel better and I’m getting back into the swing of things.

Yes Tower is Boom Shadow sorry I probably should have added that in as a note I’ll put a list of who’s who just in case.

X shadow = Edge ❌

Boom Shadow = Tower 💥

Movie Shadow = Dual 🎬

06 Shadow = Six 6️⃣

Lancelot = Lancelot ⚔️

And OG Shadow will just be referred to as Shadow

Shadow in boom is so funny to me because of all his adaptations he is kinda the most asshole of them all (and I mean that in a loving way). He gives off a very “I like this therefore it is my whole world” vibe.

He’s also very set in his ways once he makes a decision he sticks with it, I think that once OG brought up the topic of being in a romantic relationship his interest was piqued, because he very much looks down on others he had high expectations for Y/N all of which were met pretty much from the beginning before reader opens their mouth.

Now don’t get me wrong the love that boom feels at this moment in the story is very superficial, he has a lot to learn and his romance style is going to be the most immature starting out but as we progress there’s going to be a lot of self reflecting not only in boom but in the others as well. The therapy sessions are actually going to come into play in some fun and interesting ways that I hope to make really good like I’m kinda nervous writing it out in a way that makes sense.

Don’t worry about Lancelot I won’t make him suffer too much lol (maybe just a little). In part one I was going to add a part about the Shadows teaching Lancelot about indoor plumbing but I decided against it because it was making an already long chapter even longer and it also didn’t add anything to the story.

I might do some little side blurbs about the Shadows living together without Y/N being directly involved or even mentioned because frankly the concept of six different Shadows living together could be a whole fic in itself. but that’s only if I find the time. I’m going to be super busy in May to the point where I’ll be lucky to get one or two fics out.

But as for Lancelot he’s definitely the one I’ve had the most fun writing for. I also have the most ideas for him that I’m excited to write about (sword fighting lessons anyone?). But all in all I plan on giving each of the shadows some well deserved love, So long as they don’t break anything lol.

[foggynelsonarchive]

I still have a lump in my throat.

I can't organize my thoughts about that mess I saw yesterday. Of course I cried a lot, like I'm crying now.

I feel like I lost my best friend and I couldn't even say goodbye.

There was no funeral, no flashback to any moment other than Foggy getting shot and his dead eyes.

I cried when Matt read the avocados at law, of course. I'd been waiting for that for years. But there could have been anything in there, a flashback, Foggy's voice, the sound of his laugh, his giggles, the way he snorted when he was with Matt... But there was nothing.

It feels like I've lost my best friend and I've seen everyone move on and I'm like: Do you guys care that little? What's up Matt? The Matt I know would be more emotional. And the Matt I loved, loved Foggy.

This Matt, he's not the same Matt I loved and who loved Foggy and Foggy's family by extension.

It's impossible to watch the original Daredevil now. I watch Foggy's scenes and feel terrible knowing what Foggy's future holds for him.

Foggy was life, colors, music, food, hugs. He was a son, a brother, a friend, he had cousins ​​and was loved by the community in his neighborhood and Born Again killed that without the slightest consideration. In fact, Dario and his team have no respect for Foggy and Elden in extension.

But as if it wasn't enough to not respect Foggy's story, the entire show is a mess. What was that?

Matt's lines to Karen are a gross copy of what Foggy had said to Theo. And Karen comforting Matt felt so wrong. Foggy had completely accepted Matt since season 3. Foggy's last lines to Matt are heartbreaking and so out of character that they still haunt me.

Foggy is smarter than Born Again made him out to be. He's not an inexperienced lawyer. The way he was killed was even worse than they planned it to be in the initial script. In the initial script, he was at least going to get shot by a dirty cop. In Born Again, he died because he didn't know what he was getting into and didn't share his case with Matt, mistakenly thinking he could handle it all by himself. As if Foggy hadn't worked alone for a long time and made a name for himself by handling tough cases. Born Again made him look like a disposable freshman .

Matt and Karen went to the location (no spoilers here) and decided to go back and assemble an army because this is the city without fear now. Such poor and lifeless writing.

Dex killed Foggy, but left Benny alive. Could this be left to be resolved in season two? I have my doubts.

It's only eight episodes and there's a lot going on again.

And what about that scene where we apparently see Kirsten holding a phone while Karen is aiming at Dex? I thought it was going to be part of a flashback, but it didn't happen.

They got rid of Foggy to make Matt and Karen bond. How am I supposed to care now that that love is being restored at the cost of Foggy Nelson's death?

How can I care that Karen and Matt are on the run together, if his best friend just died and Matt took over a year to look for answers?

I held on to my little hopes until my last breath.

But after yesterday, I'm just exhausted.

Marvel will continue to tease Elden's return, because apparently, the sidekick had some importance to some fans and they won't want to disappoint this small group of fans who, by the way, even caught the attention of Vincent D'onofrio himself.

But I'm tired of getting my hopes up about this show.

And as I always end my lectures,

Foggy deserves better, Elden deserves much better and Foggy's tiny group of fans deserves better.

[minuutvanverval]

Open Your Heart

description: things aren’t going as well as you thought they were between you and your boyfriend. one night, coming back from a night out with your friends, joost is blatantly ignoring you, and you snap.

words: 3k!

warnings: angst, fluff, rpf

a/n: based on the song ‘open your heart’ by europe! i love europe with all my heart :)) another sad fic bc i can’t seem to write anything else

<3

The rain had started soft,, but it had grown heavier as you walked, the dim streetlights reflecting in the puddles. The air smelled like wet concrete and cheap cigarettes. Laughter and muffled music from the bar down the road still echoed behind you both. Your arm was linked with Joost’s, fingers lightly grasping around the fabric of his jacket sleeve. He had both hands in his pockets, keeping himself warm in the cold november rain.

“And then - no joke - he looks at me, dead in the eyes, and says, ‘You know, you’re too pretty to be doing this kind of job.’ Like. What the fuck does that even mean? I just - that wasn’t the worst thing he said.”

Joost huffed a breath that could’ve been a laugh. Or a sigh. You couldn’t tell.

“I mean, I’ve been tattooing for six years,” you went on, voice rising, a little sharper than before. “People fly out for appointments. I don’t need some fucking walk-in telling me I’m ‘too pretty for my job’ or that ‘I’d be better staying at home serving a man.’”

Joost made a sound in his throat. Noncommittal. Distant. His gaze wasn’t on you. It was on the glistening road ahead as the rain started to fall harder. You slowed your pace just enough to make him notice.

“…you’re not even listening.”

“What?” His head jerked slightly. “I am.”

“You’re not...”

He looked at you then, blinking like he was only just realizing you’d been talking to him.

“I was just thinking-”

“Thinking?” You cut in, pulling your arm free. Your skin felt colder the moment you let go. “I was telling you about this dickhead and you were somewhere off in fucking space.”

He stopped walking. “Jezus, okay. I zoned out for a second.”

“It’s not you zoning out, Joost. It’s every time I try to talk about something that matters to me, you just… drift off. Or stare at your phone. Or change the subject.”

“That’s not true.”

“It isn’t…? What did I tell you the other day about the new apprentice?”

The silence was loud.

“Exactly.”

“Fuck, okay, I’m sorry I’m not great at remembering every fucking-”

“No, don’t do that,” You snapped, stepping back. Your voice cracked, slightly. “Don’t act like I’m asking for too much.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to.”

The wind shifted, carrying the rain sideways now. It crept beneath your collar, down your spine. Joost moved both hands in his jacket pockets and looked away.

You could see it in the way his shoulders rose - defensive. You knew that look. Knew the way he closed up when things got too serious. When the mood shifted from light and easy to something raw and real.

“Why is it so hard for you to just… be present?” You asked him, voice softening. “Why do I always feel like I’m talking to a fucking brick wall?”

His breath came out rough. “You’re not talking to a brick wall. I’m tired. I’ve got shit going on, too. I just don’t whine about every little thing that happens.”

That landed like a slap.

Your brows furrowed, lips parting slightly, a slow silence stretching out between you both. “Wow,” you whispered. “You think I’m whining?”

He looked at the floor. “I didn’t mean-”

“No, you did.” You stepped back again. “You think I’m being dramatic. That I care too much.”

“I didn’t say any of that.”

“Again, you didn’t have to.” You muttered.

“You know what I think?” Your voice trembled now, less with anger, more with heartbreak. “I think you’ve been pulling away from me for weeks. And I keep letting it slide because I told myself you were just stressed or busy or whatever. But this?” Your gestured between him and you. “This is just… unfair. Me trying. You drifting.”

Joost looked like he wanted to say something. But he didn’t. He just stood there, soaked and silent, raindrops on his glasses.

“I feel like I don’t know how to talk to you anymore. I… I needed you today. I needed you to hear me. What he said really hurt me. I wanted you to make it better...”

“I don’t know how to do that…” he admitted.

“Then why did you ask me to be your girlfriend? That’s - just… basic communication. If- if you can’t do that… I just-”

The pause that followed hurt. It was like… he wasn’t even trying.

“I’m gonna go,” you muttered quietly.

Joost frowned. “You don’t have to-”

“No, I- I’m gonna go.” Her voice wavered. “I can’t keep pretending this is okay. That I’m okay. I’m not.”

“Please don’t-”

You stepped back.

“I’m sorry, Joost. I-I’m done begging you to see me.”

You started walking. Rain poured harder now, soaking through your jacket, plastering your hair to your face, but you didn’t care. Your boots hit the pavement with purpose, sharp and steady, echoing in the wet night air. You didn’t look back.

He didn’t move for a long time. Just stood there with the weight of it all settling in. Eventually, he kept walking home. Shoulders hunched, soaked to the skin, his footsteps slower than before.

The rain didn’t let up. It turned colder, heavier, soaking through your jeans, your socks, everything. You kept walking, past the next block, past the glowing blur of the main traffic lights, past quiet apartments with curtains drawn and the hum of televisions behind windows. You didn’t even know where you were going. Your phone buzzed in your pocket - probably a message from one of the friends you’d left at the bar - but you didn’t check it. You didn’t care to. Every step hurt started to hurt a little more. Each one pulled at something heavy inside your chest. Like you were walking through water, dragging the weight of the conversation with you. The way his face looked when you started to turn away. How cold he must’ve been. How you could hear the silence between you louder than anything else around you. You hadn’t meant to explode. Not really. You just wanted him to listen. To care. And you knew he did - somewhere deep under all that distance and defensiveness. That was what made it worse. God, you’d never argued before. Maybe it was because you’d only been together just under a month. You never thought the first argument would hurt so much.

What if it’s something deeper? What if something deeper was going on with him, and you hadn’t cared to ask because you’d been so wrapped up with your shitty clients all week. What if you were the one being ignoring him? God, he was too sweet for you to be treating him like this. Too sweet.

You stopped.

Your feet moved before your mind caught up, like instinct, like your body knew where to go even if your thoughts hadn’t agreed. You turned on your heel, boots squelching, and started to walk.

Not home.

To him.

___

Joost’s apartment was dark from the outside. Third floor. Warm glow barely leaking through the edge of the curtains.

After you pulled yourself up the stairs, clothes heavy with rain, your hand hesitated in the air for longer than you wanted to admit before you knocked.

It was stupid. You shouldn’t have come. He probably didn’t even want to see you. You should’ve-

The door opened.

Joost stood there in a hoodie and sweatpants, hair a mess from the towel he’d probably dragged through it, a half-drunk glass of something in one hand - probably alcohol. He didn’t say anything.

You were soaked. Arms crossed tight over your chest, dripping on his welcome mat, hair clinging to your cheeks. Your lip trembled. - but not from the cold.

“I-“ Your voice cracked immediately. You looked down. “I’m r-really sorry.”

Still, he didn’t speak. Just stared at you, completely unreadable.

“I didn’t mean to blow up on you,” you whispered, eyes fixed on the stitching of your sleeve. “It wasn’t fair. I shouldn’t have thrown it all at you like that, in that kind of weather - e-especially after we’d just had a night out. I just… I don’t know.” You sniffled. “I didn’t know how else to say it.”

The silence stretched just long enough to hurt before he stepped aside.

“Come in...” He muttered quietly.

You nodded, moving past him into the apartment. Warmth hit you like a wave, stinging your cold skin. You stood awkwardly in the entryway, shivering slightly, avoiding his eyes. Joost closed the door. Locked it. But still, he said nothing.

You peeled off your wet jacket and shoes, leaving them in a sad puddle near the mat where he’d pointed. Your socks left little prints on his floor. The living room was dim, only the kitchen light on. It was quiet except for the faint hum of the outside world.

“Bathroom, you’re dripping all over my floors.” He muttered.

You followed him wordlessly. The towel was already there, hanging messily on the rack like he’d used it recently. He pulled it down and stood in front of you.

Your eyes flicked up to meet his. You expected him to speak. Maybe ask if you were okay. Maybe scold you for walking around like that in the cold. But he didn’t.

Instead, he reached out gently and pressed the towel to your hair.

You frowned.

The gesture was soft - shockingly so. He cupped the back of your head and slowly worked the towel through the strands, careful not to pull. His hands smelled like soap and faint cigarette smoke. You didn’t realize how much you missed being cared for by him until just then. Joost still didn’t say a word. You felt yourself trembling - not from the cold anymore. From guilt. From the weight of everything unspoken.

When he was done, he handed you a clean hoodie and some sweatpants from the bedroom. You took them without question. Changed behind the half-closed bathroom door while he stood in the hallway.

When you came out, he was leaning against the wall, arms crossed, looking tired. Tired of fighting. Tired of thinking about how to fix it. He pointed back into the bathroom. You followed him back into the bathroom, the towel still in his hand. Your reflection startled you. Your eyes were pink and glassy, your face pale. You pressed your hands to your face, trying to breathe steady.

Then you felt it - his fingers, ever so carefully gathering your hair again, towel drying the ends.

And that was it. You broke.

Tears welled up faster than you could blink them away. They dripped silently, slowly down your cheeks, your sleeves. You clutched the edge of the counter, head down, trying not to sob.

Joost frowned. “Hey…” he said softly, and that single word undid you completely.

“I’m so sorry,” you whispered, voice cracking open. “I was just so tired. I was hurt and I didn’t know how to say it without sounding selfish, and I shouldn’t have left like that. I shouldn’t have walked away.”

You turned, looking at him through blurry eyes. His reflection was frowning, but not in anger. Concern. Sadness. Guilt, maybe.

“I didn’t mean to make you feel like shit,” you added. “I just - sometimes I don’t feel heard. And I don’t know how to ask you for what I need without sounding like I’m too much.”

Joost reached out again, slower this time, wiping a tear off of your cheek with the edge of the towel. He looked at you like he was trying to find the words. Trying and failing.

“You’re not too much,” he said finally, barely above a whisper. “I’m just not enough sometimes. And I… I shouldn’t told you I wasn’t doing great.”

Your chest ached.

“I don’t want you to think I don’t care. I do. About all of it. About you. I just… I don’t know how to share my pain with you just yet.”

“I know. I’m sorry for - not being more understanding.”

He wrapped the towel up and threw it somewhere in the direction of the laundry basket. “I’ve been in my head a lot,” he admitted. “Stupid shit. Work. Music. Pressure. I didn’t even realize how didtsnt I was being until tonight.”

You nodded, sniffling. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Because I didn’t want you to think I was starting to fall out of it or something,” he said, like he thought it was a silly thing to think, voice rough. “Because I’m not. I still feel the same. I just… forgot to show it.“

You let out a shaky breath. “I need you to meet me halfway. You’ve gotta talk to me about these things, sweetie…” You move a hand to his face, stroking it softly, comforting him through his vulnerable moment.

He looked at you then, properly. “I can… I just… I haven’t done this in a long time.”

You studied him, waiting to see if he meant it.

He took a breath. “I will. Honest.”

And then he reached for you again - this time with no towel, no barrier. His hands cradled your face softly, thumbs brushing where your tears had fallen, as if it physically hurt him to see you crying. It was the first time he’d seen you cry. You leaned into his touch instinctively.

“I’m also sorry, for not listening. Regardless of what’s going on in my head. For making you feel small. You’re not. Not to me. You’re always the loudest person in the room - and I… I mean that in the best way.” He almost laughed.

You laughed through tears. “You’re really bad at compliments.”

“I know.” He smiled faintly. “But I’m trying. My English still isn’t perfect.”

You smiled up at him. “That’s all I wanted.”

There was a long pause. Then he pulled you in, slowly, letting his arms wrap around your shoulder as yours found his waist. You buried your face in his chest, as he rest his cheek on your head, cradling it softly. Your fingers gripped the fabric of his hoodie like you were anchoring yourself.

“I don’t want to lose this,” you whispered.

“You’re not going to.”

“Even if I drip all over your floors again?”

He smiled. “Especially then. Little footprints all over my apartment. So sweet...”

You stood like that for a long time. So long that the rain had slowed, and started up again.

“I’m still cold,” you muttered.

Joost pulled back just enough to look at you. “Come to bed. Please…”

You nodded, heart swelling.

He led you into the bedroom, flicked off the harsh overhead light and switched on the small lamp by the nightstand. You crawled under the blanket while he tossed your wet clothes into the laundry basket. He slid in beside you, laying on his side, opening his arms to you. You moved closer carefully, and nestled against his chest. His hand immediately found his way under the hoodie he’d given you, stroking your waist softly. Despite how cold you’d been, you still felt warm to him.

You lay there quietly, his arms wrapped around you. His hand moved in slow, absentminded strokes along your waist; needed the contact. The rise and fall of his chest under your cheek was steady, grounding, as was his comforting heartbeat. Outside, the rain hadn’t stopped. It tapped against the window in a gentle, constant hush, a quiet lullaby for two of you. You both loved the rain.

Neither of you spoke. You didn’t need to.

And maybe it wasn’t perfect again yet, but his arms were around you, and you were warm again, and for the first time in a long while, it felt like he wasn’t somewhere else.

He was here. With you. And that was enough.

[sorenwolfgang]

Soren sat there, his focus completely on Vivian as she spoke. There was something about the way she spoke, the casual ease in her tone, that made him feel oddly at peace. He didn’t often get this kind of attention, the kind that made him feel like nothing else mattered in the world but this moment. It was strange but comforting. It felt like the whole world slowed down when he was listening to her, and he couldn’t help but savor it, even if it made him a little anxious, too. He smiled when she mentioned Shauni, the soft warmth in her voice making him feel like he was getting a glimpse into something deeply meaningful for her. He couldn’t relate to the sibling bond, never having grown up with someone in that way, but he could see how important it was to Vivian. He knew other foster kids but most of them walked into his life and back out of it once they got adopted. "That’s great," Soren said softly, a quiet smile on his lips. "It’s special to have someone like that in your life, even if they’re not blood. Shauni's observant. I keep noticing how she looks at everyone." His thoughts drifted briefly, wondering if he had ever experienced anything quite like that connection. He didn’t think he had. Sure, he’d lived with many kids in foster care, but those bonds were fleeting, often temporary. He didn’t keep in touch with any of them now. So hearing about Vivian’s closeness with Shauni made him feel something unexpected—maybe a little envious. He chuckled softly at her story about her parents and the coffee ban. It was so... human, the kind of funny thing that made people relatable. "Sounds like they were really trying to help, even if it didn’t quite make sense," he remarked with a soft laugh. He liked how she could find humor in even the strangest situations, how she made things feel light even when the world around them wasn’t. Then, there was the poem. When she asked about it, Soren felt that familiar flutter of nervousness, but he quickly masked it. He’d never been one to talk about his poetry, especially when it was so personal. The fact that she’d asked, though, caught him off guard. It felt like a moment of vulnerability, and Soren wasn’t exactly used to being open. Still, he didn’t want to seem distant, so he gave her an honest, if somewhat guarded, response. "Yeah, it’s about an ex," Soren said quietly, running a hand through his hair, feeling the heat rise to his cheeks. "It wasn’t the healthiest relationship, but... I guess it’s a part of my past now." He noticed how Vivian shifted a bit, as if she realised she might’ve asked too much, and for a moment, Soren felt guilty for making her feel uncomfortable. He was just getting to know her, and he didn’t want to make things awkward between them. "You’re right," he said softly. "If they left, then it was for the best. It just... takes time to realise that, I guess." Her attempt at humor made him laugh, and for a moment, the tension between them seemed to melt away. He liked how she could turn serious moments into something lighter, how she could make everything feel less heavy. At her question about why he didn’t write for a living, Soren paused, thinking for a moment. It wasn’t the first time he’d been asked that, but it still made him feel uncertain. "I don’t know," he said with a slight shrug. "I guess... I write for myself, mostly. It’s hard to think about sharing it with the world, you know? There’s a lot of me in those poems, and it’s not always easy to open up like that." He hesitated for just a moment, his eyes meeting hers with a mix of genuine interest and quiet admiration. "You know," he began, his voice soft but steady, "I bet you could make better money with your photography skills. You’ve got a real eye for it." He paused, trying to find the right words. "So... what’s stopping you from sharing that with the world on a bigger scale too?"

there was something about having all his attention that made vivian feel a little strange about the whole thing, it wasn’t bad, just unfamiliar. he sat there, listening to her like there was nothing else in the world worth doing, and that had never happened to her before. but, it was the same she did while he spoke, she wanted to remember those details, he wasn’t going to ask him about it, she was going to remember those moments for future moments. "siblings can be annoying but, shauni is the best" she nodded. he had probably lived with many other kids while he was in foster care, maybe he was still friends with them, but that wasn't probably as special as the relationship she shared with shauni, they weren't blood related but she didn't care, shauni was one of the people she loved the most in this world. "i'm really lucky, that for sure" she nodded, a soft smile on her lips. at jo’s words, the girl chuckled, "i don't know if they liked the excuse though" she chuckled, "it was crazy, i think they didn't let me drink coffee for a week, in their mind i needed to get all the caffeine out of my system before getting more" she mused, she didn't know if that worked, she simply did because she wanted to rest again. vivian for a second felt like that day all over again, that question had left her mouth before she could think about overstepping. she was actually embarrassed. she noticed how soren got nervous, how he ran a hand through his hair and he blushed. not only had she overstepped when she asked him to read her one of his poems, now she found herself asking about who that poem was as if it was something he needed to share. at his mention of that beautiful poem being about an ex, the girl chewed the inner part of her cheek. "yeah, you're right" she nodded, "if they left meant that you're better off without them" she said softly, "i mean, i know what i'm talking about, i was cheated on with someone, trust me, i'm really wise in that topic" she tried to joke so the mood went back to a more light topic. "why don't you write for a living though?" she asked, "you could share your art with the world."

[seenoversundown]

Insidious : Nine

Jake Kiszka x Rory (Fem OC)

Warnings: Suggestive Language, Cursing, drinking/alcohol, angry themes, pissy Jake, a little cock blocking, silly hehe haha banter, uncomfortable tension, flashback vibes.

Word Count: 2.7k

Author's Note: lord, this one was fun to write 🙂‍↕️🤭 I’d love to hear your theories so far!! Leave em in the replies/reblogs/my DMs! I’m so nosey 🥰

Dallas, Texas | Day 1 

The drive was long and the traffic and construction only slowed us down even more. We all sat around for a while once the boys came back, and I can’t lie— it was hard to look at Rory for a few. 

The moment I heard a little whimper come out of her, I couldn’t help myself. I didn’t mean to invade her space like that, but how am I supposed to just lie there and not help her out? 

Staring at her for a while after felt odd, sharing such an intimate thing but completely separated. Only being able to hear her made it almost worse. Because, sitting there with the other guys and doing everything I can to not smile when I’d hear her calling me ‘daddy’ in my head. Not typically something I encourage, but she could say it again. 

This morning, crawling out of my bunk and she’s the only one up. I hesitate for a second before I sit across from her, but she doesn’t seem to be bothered. 

“I’m surprised you’re awake,” she mumbles, glancing over to me. 

A small laugh sneaks out when I say, “I got some good sleep.” 

“I bet you did,” she says, her face turning pink as she avoids eye contact. “Stress free?” 

Biting my lip so I don’t laugh too loud at that— she smiles at her own joke. Cute. I taunt her back, raising my eyebrows when I say, “You tell me.”

She slowly blinks at me, a little pink still in her face, shaking her head a few times. 

“What?” I ask, knowing the smirk on my face is giving me away. 

She laughs, leaning forward a little, she whispers, “You know what.” 

Glancing down at her lips for a second, and whispering back, “Yeah.. but I wanna hear you say it.” 

Watching the way her eyes go wide as she processes what I said. She shifts in her spot slightly; too bad for her that I know what she’s doing with that. 

“Oh, fuck off,” she lets out a little laugh lacing it. 

I smile, mumbling, “That’s not what you said last night..”

“Jake,” she snaps back. 

My head turns away from her, fighting the smile when I say, “That is though.” 

“Well hello,” Josh sing-songs through the bus. “Surprised to see you awake this early.”

She smiles at him as he plops down next to her, seems to be the routine for them at this point. Asking him, “How did you sleep?” 

“Eh,” he starts. “Could have been better.” 

I watch the corners of her lips twitch, and she manages to say, “Aww, I’m sorry.” 

What a fun little secret between us. 

They spent the last bit of our trip talking, the other two still sound asleep. The drive to Dallas taking a bit longer than we thought because of traffic, but once we made it to the hotel, we were all ready to be off the fucking bus, that’s for sure. 

It’s been nice having Rory around to deal with all the planning and somehow she managed to get us into our hotel rooms early today. As much as we all love spending time together, the moment we get to be in separate spaces, we take it. Thankfully, I always share a room with Josh and the two of us have a routine for when we first get settled into the hotel room. 

We had only been at the hotel for a couple hours, Josh and I remaining quiet for a while. He laid on his bed reading and I spent a while just reading through our schedule for the next couple of days. 

Not expecting anybody, when someone knocks on our door, we both jump. Opening the door, not expecting Rory to be the one here. My head tilts slightly, when I ask, “Do you need something?” 

“Kind of, um,” she hesitates, pulling her phone up. “..is this normal?” 

Flipping it around, showing me our tour poster. I look back and forth between her and the phone, and I try not to laugh but a slight chuckle sneaks out. 

“You know we’re on that tour right now… right?” I ask, knowing it makes me sound like a dick. 

Her arm drops and her head practically falls to the side with it. Snapping back, “Jake, I’m not that dumb. Jesus Christ.”

Throwing my hands up, “I had to make sure!” 

“No, look at the actual dates, you shit,” she tells me, handing her phone back to me, with it zoomed in on the dates. 

“What the fuck?” I mutter staring at a slew of new dates added. Does he fucking hate me? Why? Looking back up to her, asking, “Did you get anything from the guy who hired you about this?” 

“I don’t think so,” she mumbles, her eyebrows pulled together. Grabbing her phone back from me, she frantically swipes through apps. Hearing the vibration against her rings, she looks up at me with a sigh. “Literally just got an email.” 

My jaw was already tight, but I clench my teeth together a little harder. Breathing for a second before I say anything. 

“No, that isn’t normal,” I tell her, trying to not be an asshole because I can tell she’s also confused. “I’ll give him a call, just worry about redoing the schedule.” 

I watch her deflate as she stood there, all the life in her eyes from this morning leaving. She turns away with a sigh and my eyes follow her until she’s in her room. 

Shutting the door loudly, I look to Josh who’s just patiently sitting on the bed waiting for me to erupt. 

“What happened?” He carefully asks. 

My head drops back for a second and then I tell him, “Our tour just got extended.” 

His eyebrows pulling together, shaking his head quickly, “What? How? Why?”

“Your guess is as good as mine,” I breathe out. “This is so fucking stupid.” 

 He lies back onto his bed, rubbing his hands over his face. I can hear his muffled voice asking, “Does that mean we have more jobs?” 

“Likely,” I mumble. “I’m fucking over it.” 

Pulling my phone out, I quickly pull up the texts between our ‘boss’ and myself. Frantically typing out a message for him to call me when he gets a minute. Tossing my phone onto my bed, all I want to do is scream. 

“Maybe, the band is just doing well…” Josh says, a slight laugh behind it. The wishful thinking unfortunately isn’t helpful at the moment. As much as I wish it were just that. 

Letting out a sigh, “We could only hope.” I look over at him, but then grabbing my phone and shoving it back into my pocket. Mumbling, “I need to go outside for a minute or i’m gonna lose it.”

The first drag of my cigarette burns, but it’s almost calming. The thought of having to be out for so much longer, already wearing on me. I’m already annoyed that I’ll get a horrific email with more shit we have to do. 

It we were just doing more shows, I would probably be more okay with it. That’s the only thing that makes this life bearable at this point. At least when I’m doing that, I can feel a bit more free and forget about everything that I’ve had to go through. 

If we had only been a little smarter. 

Hours had passed and the boys only know one way to kill time when we have a free evening, so we are out at a bar. We hadn’t been there for very long when I felt my phone vibrating against my leg. 

“Hey,” I mutter, walking outside so I could hear him. 

“Hello,” His voice a bit too cheery sounding for me. “I see that you are aware of the tour changes.”

My hand rubs over my face, “Yeah, about that–”

“Well, here’s the thing,” He starts, and I know this conversation is gonna piss me off already.  “I’ve been told to extend your tour to make sure you have the opportunity to meet with some more of our ‘clients’.. Per their request.”

Clients…? Fuck off. 

“That has never happened,” I spit out. “We usually get a break and then another leg of tour.. not just straight through.”

“I told them that you hired a tour manager,” He admits. “And they seemed to think that if you needed someone to keep you organized, that maybe you could get more shit taken care of.”

I stare up at the night sky for a minute, breathing out, “That’s not fair?” 

“Life’s not fair, kid.” 

His rebuttal pissing me off, I can’t help the tone when I spit out, “Okay, but this is also affecting her life, not just ours.”

“They did seem particularly interested in her when I sent them her resume,” he tells me. I had been pacing around out front of this bar, but that brought me to a full stop. Oh absolutely not. I’m not doing this. Doing everything in my power to not let the memories of her flood my mind. 

“Don’t say that,” I mutter. 

He starts to say, “I don’t know what it was about her that piqued their interest but–”

“Well, they can leave her the fuck alone,” I cut him off. “She isn’t aware of anything.” 

“You really haven’t told her?” He sounds shocked, like I would willing give up that information. 

“Why would I?” I start, my head shaking. Baffled that he would expect it from me. “I’m not necessarily proud of what I’m doing, I’m not gonna get her involved if I don’t have to.” 

“Welp, i’m sorry that you’re stuck on the road for a while,” He says, without an ounce of remorse in his voice. “When she figures it out, make sure she keeps her mouth shut, alright?” 

Piss off. 

Rolling my eyes, I spit out, “Yeah.”

“Good luck with everything,” His voice chipper as he says it, and I don’t have it in me, so I just end the call.  

“Fucking christ,” I let out under my breath. They’re so fucking greedy. Nothing about the lifestyle I unfortunately lead is something that I wanted to be doing at any given point. But, now I’m stuck here until they decide to let us stop. 

Every phone call with him just pisses me off more, and it’s getting harder and harder to not let it ruin my nights. I pull open the door to the bar, walking back through and as I’m scanning the room to find my brothers, I can’t help but find myself staring at Rory. 

What is she doing? 

The way shes stood with this guy, smiling at him, batting her lashes. For fucks sake. Glancing over at this man, this one seems harmless, truly. I watch them for a minute until she laughs at something he must have said, and her hand lands on his chest. Lingering there for a brief moment. My jaw clenched as I watched it happen and something must have come over me, because my body started moving toward her. She looks over as I’m getting closer, and she looked confused this time. 

“Baby,” I coo, sliding my arm around her waist. Pulling my eyebrows together slightly when I ask, “Is he bothering you?”

“Uhh,” she hesitates, looking between this other dude and myself. 

I hold a finger up to him, before pulling her away with me, “Sorry, excuse us for a minute.”

“What are you doing?!” She whisper-yells at me.

Shaking my head subtly, “What do you mean?” 

“Jake, I was trying to get somewhere,” she says, waving her hands around.  “Did you not see him?”

“Ohhh..” I let out. Doing everything in my power not to smile when I say, “I thought you needed to be rescued again.”

“Did I look like I needed rescuing?” 

I shrug, the smirk slipped, “Who’s to say?”

“Why do you hate me? Do you not want me to get laid?” She whines. 

Nothing could have stopped me from leaning in close to her when I ask, “Was last night not enough for you, baby?”

Her mouth falls open, and I can’t decide if I just pissed her off or turned her on. She steps closer to me, her hand grabs my jaw, smirking at me. 

“Unless you plan on making me come,” she whispers, getting closer to my face. “Let me find someone who will.” 

Blinking slowly at her, I can’t manage to get anything out fast enough. But the way she’s looking at me, I feel like she wants it.  

“That’s what I thought,” She whispers as she looks down at my lips, lingering there for a second before she says, “I’m gonna go get another drink.” Her hand pats my cheek a couple times gently before she walks away. Watching her go back up to the bar and seeing that same dude go back up to her, my body tenses up. 

Forcing myself to look away, I find one of the bathrooms. Locking the door behind me, I turn the water on and carefully splash my face with the freezing water a few times. Grabbing a couple paper towels to dry off, I stare into the mirror for a moment. 

“I can take care of myself, you know,” her voice plays in my mind, my heart aches at the sound. Breathing heavily as I stood there, I usually fought every chance I had to think about her, but I couldn’t this time. 

“I know, I know,” I told her.

Her little laugh when she said, “We’ll both be okay.” Her hands cupped my face as she stared at me, that sweet little smirk of hers. I swear I could still feel them there.

Leaning toward her, I pressed my lips against her forehead, hating that we were in this together. “One day, angel,” I whispered. 

My head drops, staring straight down to the floor, my throat feels tight when I let out, “I miss you. I hope you know that.” Shaking my head a few times, I look back up, and my body slowly warms. It’s like she’s here. It feels foreign to smile about anything involving her, but I think she’d kill me if I never moved along. 

After a silent moment, I pull open the bathroom door, and to my surprise, Rory is stood right there. Her arms folded over her chest, a slight scowl on her face that fell when she looked at me. 

“You okay?” I asked, stepping around her. 

She rolls her eyes, muttering, “Naturally, he’s fucking married.” 

“Oh–” I start but she cuts me off. 

“I don’t want to hear it,” she pulls the bathroom door shut behind her quickly. 

I stand there for a minute, and then knock, loudly saying, “Rory, let me in.” 

The click of the door unlocking hits my ears, I carefully push the door open. Slipping into the small bathroom with her, she still looks mad but the tears in her eyes have caught mine.

“He isn’t worth the tears,” I tell her.

She nods, “I know.” 

“Is it something else?” I ask, stepping a little closer to her. 

She shakes her head, I can still see her choking back the tears. Finally, crying out quietly, “No, I’m just frustrated. Today has been shit.” 

“I can try to help?” I mumble out. Not really knowing how I can do anything that will make things better at this point, but I also can’t blame her for being mad. She was thrown a ton of shit without warning today. 

Her eyes looked up at mine, and nothing would have prepared me for her to tell me, “I can take care of myself.” 

Eight

Ten

Masterpost

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[dazais-guardian-angel]

also I honestly hate Dazai's sudden bullshit theory about Hawthorne's blood bullets to explain how Fyodor killed the soldier at the end of the cannibalism arc, and the fact that this somehow never even occurred to him until now. Normally I do love seeing Dazai be wrong and be shocked/taken off guard for once, it's way too rare and needs to happen a lot more for how goddamn OP he is the rest of the time, but in this case instead of making him feel human from making a natural mistake (forgetting about Q, pinning the wrong person as Fyodor during the helicopter search in cannibalism), it just makes him look incredibly dumb to somehow not have foreseen this before now. Up till this point he's been 5D chess masterminding the shit out of everything, but somehow it didn't even occur to him that Fyodor might not actually be dead for real....... and all it took to make him think that was Sigma viewing his memories? Back when the cannibalism incident happened, the panels seem to indicate that he might know more about Fyodor's ability than he's letting on, but now it's confirmed that he never really knew anything at all, so that part was meaningless I guess...

The Hawthorne theory is so ludicrously out there, but it's in-line with all the other insanely out there things Dazai has been right about before, so it's probably correct lmao; it's just, WHY did he not come up with it until now??? The answer is of course that he didn't realize it until the Plot needed him to, and it's so frustratingly evident. 🫠 As convoluted as this twist is, I honestly wouldn't mind it if it had come from Fyodor himself after he inevitably comes back to taunt Dazai and co — I actually think it doesn't contradict everything else we've seen, because imo there's a difference between the soldier grabbing Fyodor's arm (clear contact), and when Fyodor lightly held his finger over Karma's forehead and most likely used his real ability there, just like he said he did. I think it's neat to think that we were all misdirected by the "Fyodor's ability works through direct contact" thing just because Dazai is the one who first said it, since we're so used to Dazai being right. But I wish Dazai hadn't figured out the truth all on his own so suddenly, doing a complete 180 from like two chapters ago, cause it just makes him look stupid. It doesn't feel like a natural mistake, it just feels like the plot forcing him to be dumb until it needs him to be smart again, which is really noticeable for a character otherwise so insanely smart as Dazai.

[seaofreverie]

Anyway.... Back to what I was pondering earlier today... It's been 4 months but I'm still as deeply obsessed with Exotic Creatures of the Deep as at the very start

[pedgito]

𝐀𝐂𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐒 | Harry Castillo x reader

↝ masterlist | requests? | ao3 | update blog | fic rec | ko-fi

summary | Five years of being his assistant and five years of failed attempts at finding love with your help, but maybe the obvious answer has been there the entire time. Alternatively, you fucked your boss? Uh-oh.

author's note | harry...randy...who knows. i'll change it if needed but given the name tag, this is what i'm sticking with for now. skip the lecture about not writing until the movie is out, this isn't hurting anyone so don't bother me about it, xo. the horny demons always win. i listened to this song i repeat while i wrote, felt fitting.

content warning | 18+ MDNI, power imbalance (boss/assistant), work wife/work husband type beat, mentions of failed dating, being superficial, mentions of sugar daddy things, expensive gifts, reader is a godly assistant with a will stronger than mine, he smokes, they drink, sex while inebriated, he's down so bad, also oral!, tense morning after, open-ended

word count — 4.5k

You knew him better than anyone.

From his breakfast order down to his specific choice of underwear, like you weren’t making the weekly purchases and filling up his rarely used fridge in the apartment that was way out your price range, arranging his schedule down to the minute, booking his flights, packing his bag.

Really, Harry should just marry you.

…it was more of a joke, but you’ve teased him about it once or twice.

He called you his work wife anyways, but in reality, you were just his assistant.

He did trust you with his life, though.

More importantly, his love life.

“Kim flaked,” he tells you over coffee, perched at his kitchen island as you typed away on your laptop, looking up briefly with eyes that begged for him to explain, he does and makes a show about, mimicking a more feminine voice as he relays the message she gave him, “same song and dance—you’re great and fun but I can’t do anything serious right now,”

“Were you nice?” you ask curiously.

Harry rolls his eyes at that, like it was a stupid question to ask. But, eventually he nods.

“Did you ask questions?” you continue, fingers folding over the screen of your laptop to close it.

“Plenty, she works in finance, loves the color blue, wants to travel,” he could go on and on, throwing his hands up in defeat before they slump to his side, “maybe I should try out a real matchmaker—not that you’re bad at it—”

“You think I’m bad at it,” you smile knowingly, “don’t you?”

“No,” you’re unconvinced, “besides—you’re my assistant, I never meant for that type of responsibility to fall on you, you know?”

“I’m doing both of us a favor,” you remind him, “I think…it just takes time.”

And fortunately, all you had was time.

It felt pointless for Harry to spend a chunk of cash to have someone pair him up with the supposed love of his life, though you knew that money wasn’t a problem, you felt a weird responsibility to protect him, unsure how quickly someone would take advantage of his kindness.

“There’s a gala,” you tell him offhandedly, “next week. I already cleared your schedule for it. I think…maybe you should just peruse this time.”

“Peruse?” he chuckles, eyes creasing in amusement, his crow’s feet deepening with the emotion, “You’re a control freak, you sure about that?”

“That’s just mean,” you retort, “you’re paying me anyways—if you didn’t like it you’d fire me.”

He knew you were right, sipping quietly at his coffee in response.

He was frustrating, predictable, and painfully superficial. 

Every date was an exercise in appearances—perfectly tailored suits, dinner at the most exclusive places, charm turned up to eleven. And yet, none of it ever stuck. He was overcompensating and you weren’t sure why.

He was a good guy, down to his core, and in the five years you had worked with him there was never a moment you thought he didn’t deserve love, he was perfect. Too perfect.

That was the problem.

“You know, you’re like prime age to be a sugar daddy,” you tease him, knowing how he felt about the topic, “there’s plenty of apps that I can—”

“You’re relentless,” he grumbles, “if you ever did that, I’m firing you on the spot.”

“You wouldn’t,” it was a gentle challenge, smirk flashing across your face as he returned it with fondness, “without me you would crash and burn, Mr. Castillo.”

And he knows it.

–

The gala is a bust.

So, as a bandaid to his wounded ego, you order takeout and keep him company in his big, lavish apartment—it wasn’t the first time, it wouldn’t be the last.

You knew what the issue was, but there was a sinking feeling in your stomach that told you he wouldn’t receive the information well.

It was after every failed date, every expensive dinner.

They saw him at the surface, the charming man with an easy, warm smile.

You saw the man who kicked his shoes off and stripped himself of his suit jacket the second he walked through the door, who couldn’t resist a late-night binge of his newest streaming obsession, someone who insisted on stirring his coffee counterclockwise because it made it taste better, a man would text you pictures of squirrels in the park that he would feed on his way home.

It wasn’t that you were pining over him. You just knew him better than anyone.

“Why are you so dead set on marriage?” you ask him over dinner, turned toward him on the couch as he reaches for the remote to pause the show on screen.

He’s had this conversation before, but he’s never asked you any questions on the matter.

“What’s your opinion on it?” he’s avoiding, clearly, but you’ll bite.

“I don’t date, I’m not interested, signing a piece of paper isn’t going to signify my feelings toward someone if it came down to that,” you admit, “I’m not cynical, marriage is fine, but this stuff takes time,”

“Well, I’m not getting any younger,” Harry gripes, arms reaching over the back of the couch as he mirrors your position.

“Oh, please,” you scoff, “you’re forty-nine.”

“Almost fifty,” he corrects, “I’m ancient.”

“O-kay,” you sigh, “do you want honesty?”

“I’d hope you were being honest with me all the time.”

“No,” you laugh softly, “like…brutal fucking honesty?”

He’s silent, but attentive. 

“You keep choosing women who treat you like they’re next getaway vacation and you fall for it every time,” his forehead creases at the words, looking hurt by your words, “I see your bank payments every month, the activity—”

“It’s not like money is an issue,” he defends, causing you to sigh dramatically and fall back against the arm of the couch in faux distress.

“This is impossible,” you groan, staring up at the ceiling before you feel his hand circle around your wrist, tugging gently,

“Okay, I’m listening,” Harry says softly, pulling you upright, “I’m sorry—I am.”

“You want it to work so bad,” you tell him, “I see it—every time you approach someone you put on that smile and it works, but you’re giving so much and yeah, maybe some of them like that, but I’m sure a few would just enjoy a nice dinner here, or something simple. I think you forget to realize that someone can just be interested in you, for you, not for what you are or have,”

It’s profound, the way his face softens at your words, his touch still lingering around your wrist.

You’ve never even considered or entertained the idea that you might find Harry attractive or even attainable—for one, you had signed a contract that agreed to a professional work relationship, as a benefit for both of you, not that he ever had any intention to begin with.

You’ve been with him for so long, it feels, a fresh and young mind to help keep him active and busy, constantly refreshing ideas and helping him not feel like he was stuck, and you were damn good at taking care of him when he’s often tended to neglect himself.

The only thing you know is that he’s never looked at you like that.

Like you could see straight through him, all his flaws on display.

But, that was because you knew all of them.

You knew everything about him, even the worse bits.

His bad habits, his self-inflicting ones, everything that he refused to bring to the surface.

Harry’s fingers still lingered around your wrist, the weight of your words sinking in. 

But then, just like he always did, he broke the tension with a huff of laughter and frowns as he brushed you off.

“You just think I’m a sucker, don’t you?”

You shook your head with a faint smile, returning your arm to your lap.

“No—I think you like to see the good in people. So much good that you’re willing to ignore red flags.”

“Jeez,” he chuckled, clutching his stomach like you had physically wounded him, “that hurt.”

You shrugged and reached for the remote to resume the picture on screen, “You’ll survive.”

–

It was your day off—Sunday, the one day.

“Have you seen my cufflinks laying around?” he asked over the video call, “Shit—my tie, too. I can’t find it anywhere. I thought you said you laid it out for me.”

“No, I said I had it hung up and for you to lay it out before you showered,” you correct him, laying tiredly on your couch as you watched him search around frantically, hair damp and his bare shoulders on display, only catching the briefest glimpses of the towel around his waist as he turned the camera around, “Waitwait—go back!”

“There’s no fucking way you saw it,” Harry argues, “I’ve been looking for the last ten minutes—”

“In the pocket of your suit, the tie is there,” you tell him, “and given that you probably tossed the suit on the bed like you always do, the cufflinks are probably somewhere hiding under the blanket,”

He tosses you against the mattress, your screen succumbing to darkness as you wait, some shifting of the sheets before you hear him make a sound before he appears again, cufflinks pinched between his fingers and a look of defeat on his face.

“What would you do without me?” you ask with a cocky grin, finger hovering over the end call button as he shakes his head.

“What was this for again?” Harry asks curiously, laying you down upright as you caught a glimpse of his bare chest as he shrugged the crisp, white button down over his shoulders.

“It’s a charity auction, your favorite,” you chirp, “and you’re flying solo, so—don’t do anything stupid or…crass,”

“If I paid you double a day of work would you go?” Harry asks after a long pause, glancing down at the screen, “Triple?”

“Triple?!” you gawk, “see—you’re insane, this is what I’m talking about,”

He chuckles despite your response, “You’re good at keeping the sharks away,”

There were particular hawking businessmen who made it their mission to hunt Harry down at events and keep him occupied, eager to do business, whatever it may be—you were the unspoken master of redirection, as much as he refused to admit it.

“Can we grab dinner on the way?” 

“Burgers?” Harry asks, perking up slightly.

It was a constant go-to for you and him.

You nod through the screen, “Don’t even bother with the tie either, I’ll do it.”

–

“I can’t believe you roped me into this on my day off,” you whisper at his side, earning a half-smirk from him.

The charity auction was as lavish as you’d expected.

Crystal chandeliers, gold accents, and far too much champagne and hors d'oeuvres. 

Harry’s hand found the small of your back the moment you arrived, steering you through a sea of designer gowns and tuxedos, feeling uncomfortable in the tight dress and stilettos that you only wore on rare occasions, biting at your heels.

“You’ll survive,” he grins, grabbing you both a glass of champagne and pressing it into your waiting fingers, “I’m gonna…peruse, alright?”

“Don’t say it—that just makes you sound like a creep,” your face scrunches up in disgust as you sip at the alcohol, “just go—go, I’ll…handle everything else.”

The evening passed in a blur of small talk and polite smiles, but somewhere between the endless speeches and bidding wars, you found yourself on the balcony, the cool night air a welcome relief in the stuffy ballroom.

You smell him before you see him, the thick and rich scent of his cologne so familiar you swear you could find him on that alone, turning over your shoulder to see him closing the door quietly, cigarette pack tucked in his palm as he approached with a neutral expression.

“You okay?” you ask, leaning against the railing of the balcony.

Harry sighed, rubbing the back of his neck and then plucking a single cigarette from the box, “Honestly? I’m just tired of it.”

“The auctions? Charity?” you inquire, a small smile tugging at your face.

“All of it.” He looked at you, his gaze lingering as he lit the tobacco, “The events, the dates, searching for—I don’t even fucking know at this point,”

“The offer stands…” you say jokingly, though he knows exactly where this is heading.

“If I wanted a sugar baby I’d find one.”

Your eyes roam over his figure as he puffs at the cigarette, pulling a deep laugh from his chest before you’re pushing him away playfully.

“Let’s go,” he tells you with a deep sigh, stubbing out the end of the cigarette and tucking it away for later, tossing his arm over your shoulder as he readied to guide you through the crowd, always protective in spaces like this, another thing that was special to him.

–

The ride home is quiet, like it always is, both of you sitting in the backseat with the partition up, watching as he looked through his phone with a scowl, occasional typing and sending a message.

Eventually, he looks at you.

“Thank you,” He says with a soft tone, “I know this isn’t your favorite thing to do.”

You tilted your head into the headrest and smiled, crossing one thigh over the other as you worked at your heels to remove them, “Oh, it wasn’t that bad—the free alcohol is always a plus.”

He chuckled at that, silently helping you remove your shoes with a soft squeeze to your foot.

That was normal—but, it forces you to pause.

His natural instinct to help, to touch, to comfort you.

Your brow furrows at the gesture before you shake it away, blaming it on the buzz of alcohol in your system, watching as he continues the gesture with the other foot.

“Having you there makes it bearable, is all,” he explains, looking up at you briefly as he undid the tie around your ankle, “you…calm me, I guess.”

You swallowed. Hard.

The warmth of his words lingering in your chest, in his touch against your ankle, “You’d do the same for me.”

And he would—if you ever needed anything, anything, Harry was there.

“Yeah,” he agreed quietly, “without question.”

The sincerity caught you off guard. 

You turned to study him, the familiar slope of his nose, the line of his jaw. There was something about the way he looked tonight—tired, maybe, but softer. 

And he keeps looking at you, checking.

The car moved smoothly through the dimly lit streets, the city blurring past in streaks of gold and blues and reds. The hum of the engine was steady, the faint sound of music barely audible from the front, through the glass, the back lit up dimly by the trim of lights on the roof and door.

Harry leaned back, one hand moved against the seat, his other hand dragging slowly over his thigh—restless. 

Instinctually, without thinking, you reached for his hand.

It wasn’t purposeful. Just a simple act of absentmindedness.

You’ve done it a hundred times before. 

Tugged at his sleeves to fix his cufflinks, brushed lint from his lapel or pants, adjusted the collar of his shirts. Constantly fixed his hair, touching him wasn’t new.

His skin was warm. Not hot, not cold.

You felt the slight twitch of his hand, like he was debating whether to move. Instead, his fingers shifted, just a fraction, enough that the edge of his thumbnail brushed over the inside of your wrist.

The contact was thoughtless, nothing.

But, in the same moment, it felt like everything.

The way his eyes watched the movement, roamed your body like they had before but with a different implication, his eyes half-lidded and relaxed, wondering how much alcohol he had consumed himself—this wasn’t friendly.

And it definitely wasn’t professional.

Harry’s gaze was on you now, your face, as you couldn’t tear your eyes away from his hand.

Then his thumb moved. 

Up. 

Barely. 

A soft drag along your pulse.

It was half a decade of avoidance, defeat in his heart and mind, and fear in your own.

Broken, by the car rolling to a stop outside of Harry’s apartment building.

“We’re here, Mr. Castillo,” the voice of the driver came from the front, a nod of acknowledgement as his hand slipped from yours.

“Oh, hold on,” you were scooting aside to let him out, readied for the next stop as he cocks his head toward the building, “I’ve got something for you—I’ll drive you home, don’t worry,”

“Harry,” you stress, looking down at his hand that waves you toward him, extending out for you to grab, insistently as his fingers wiggle in wait.

Turns out, he wasn’t totally lying.

That something was accompanied by a seven thousand dollar bottle of Leroz Aux Brulees—you knew that because you had purchased it during his trip to France, the supposed city of love.

“I’m going to murder you,” you tell him as he places the bottle on the counter and keeps the closed case of mystery at his side, “hide your body, flee country—I hate surprises, you know that.”

“I think you’ll like this one,” he grins, popping the cork on the bottle and pouring two hefty glasses, eyeing the deep red as it glugged into the glass.

“You know, if you wanted company you could have just asked,” you tell him, “I get it, you’re lonely,”

He knows you’re only teasing but it stings nonetheless, both of you taking a long and heavy sip as his fingers swirl over the velvet casing before he’s pushing it over quickly, tapping it with his fingers, “Open it,” he encourages, eyeing you over the rim.

You place your glass down and pry it open slowly, carefully, like you were deconstructing a bomb, but as the piece inside comes into view you find yourself at a loss for words or thoughts.

Your eyes are wide, staring up at him with parted lips that tingled from the lingering alcohol, knowing you should have cut yourself off at one glass of champagne and refused to come inside, that you should have just went home and enjoyed what little bit of the day you had left to yourself.

Now, you were looking back at a necklace so delicate you were afraid to stare at it too long, embedded with a cluster of diamonds and nearly two years of your rent if you were doing the math correctly in your mind.

Always about the numbers, Harry constantly teased.

“I saw how you looked at it the other day,” he admits, “and I owe you a hell of a lot more, but it…I’m trying to say thank you for…being you,”

“I’m not taking that,” you refuse with a laugh of disbelief, sliding back over to him gently, downing the rest of your wine in one go to forget how fast your heart was beating in your chest.

“You are,” Harry insists, “consider it a bonus—Christmas is in a couple months, too.”

“You know…this is exactly that kind of stuff a sugar da—”

Harry makes a noise, shaking his head.

You bite your lip in thought, ignoring his subtle annoyance at your comment.

It was fucking beautiful, really.

You sigh, using one finger to turn the case back toward you, examining it closely.

Quietly, Harry presses his glass into the counter and rounds the edge toward you, his chest at your shoulder as he reaches for the jewelry, working carefully at the clasp before he’s motioning for you to relax your shoulders.

It wasn’t the stillness of the moment, but his touch, again.

He’s methodical in the way he touches you, dragging his hand around your neck as he fits the necklace into place, his fingertips pressing against the column of your throat in a way that tickles slightly, shifting uncomfortably until you hear the faint click and he breathes behind you, hands resting at your shoulders.

You’re not sure why he hasn’t moved, but you find yourself turning to speak.

“I’m just going to call an uber,” you tell him, “probably shouldn’t drive since we’ve both been drinking,”

“Yeah,” he agrees, but it sounds hollow, his eyes not following you as you move.

You hop from the chair and bend down to grab your shoes, but his hand is curling around your bicep and pulling you up and he’s staring again, the charge of his touch sending a jolt through your body as freeze,

“Come here,” he beckons, too natural.

And you listen.

He’s soft, every part of him. Skin, clothes, hair, lips.

He’s kissing you gently, like you might break, but you can tell he wants more.

Needs more.

“Are you going to regret this tomorrow?” you find yourself asking as he parts from you, licking at his lips as you both take a breath, letting the moment settle.

He shakes his head, “Are you?”

“Maybe,” you answer honestly, “maybe…not—fuck, I don’t know,”

“It doesn’t have to mean anything,” he promises, but you knew that was a lie.

Still, you nod in understanding.

–

He’s so tender with his touch, slipping you out of the dress in the dim light of his room.

Even softer as he guides you to your back and spreads himself on his belly between your legs, fingers interlocked with his at your hips as he buries his nose between your folds, his tongue splitting your cunt open in a sharp gasp that has you throwing your head back. His lips traced a slow, deliberate path down your body, igniting sparks along every inch of your skin. 

He kissed along the curve of your thighs, teasing, tasting, until the tension was unbearable and with each flick of his tongue, each gentle suck, it pulled you deeper into a haze of heady desire. 

This was reckless, dangerous, but neither of you found the moment to pause and think.

You wonder if things had been building to this for a while—if it was always supposed to happen this way or if he was acting off of greed; lust and companionship, even if just for a night.

You know you can ask him to stop at any point and he would, but even as his tongue brings you to your first orgasm of the night and he’s guiding you to your stomach, reaching blindly into his bedside table for a foil wrapping the crinkles loudly in the silence, you want this.

It was embarrassing how badly you wanted this.

He fucks you slow, too. 

It was torturous, his chest flat against your back as he palms his cock and feeds it into you.

You don’t talk, neither does he.

But, his low moans and stuttering breaths speak for him.

If you could see him, you’d know how furrowed his brow would be, a hand sliding over the curve of your ass until he can reach your thigh, beckoning for you to raise it without speaking.

You oblige, the angle of his thrusts changing on a dime.

“I can’t believe you’re real sometimes,” he admits like he’s confessing a sin.

“Please,” you plead—please stop talking, please keep going, please fuck me.

You couldn’t decide.

You feel him nod where his forehead is pressed between your shoulder blades as his fist curls into the sheet beside your head.

“Another, gimme another,” he pleads, the fingers on his other hand curling under your neck to life your chin, not expecting to meet his eyes as he leans over you.

The expression on his face so raw it makes you flutter around him, his lips parting in a deep, guttural groan, “I know you can,” he nods hurriedly.

And damn, does the praise work.

Your whimper breaks him, breathing out shakily as you locked eyes when he comes, slow and forceful thrusts until you’re nothing but an exhausted pile of tangled limbs.

“Greedy girl,” he comments through the haze, a weak giggle bubbling from your chest.

He pulls out slowly, a low grunt as he does so.

You’re not sure when you fall asleep, but you wake to a startling amount of weight over your stomach, an arm splayed possessively, the faint outline of a ring as you drag your hand over the limb.

It’s only as your eyes pry open that reality hits you, stumbling out of bed quickly.

No…nononono, where the fuck were your clothes? Jesus.

You stumble around half awake, searching for the silk dress on the floor, feeling accomplished when you find it and hastily redressing yourself as Harry stirs in bed, encouraging you to hurry, to slip out before he can say anything.

Your shoes are already on and you’re reaching for the doorknob when the voice comes, the weight of the necklace that still remained on your neck, two empty glasses of wine on the counter, a night of hasty choices and urgency laid out like a crime scene as his voice rings out from behind you, pleading.

“Don’t—don’t go,” Harry begs, “You don’t have to go,”

So much of this was wrong—it complicated everything.

Your life, your job, your relationship with him.

He can see you slipping, fingers inching toward the knob as he approaches you in a hurry, barefoot and shirtless, the kind of scene you shouldn’t be comforted with, like this was all normal to the both of you.

You’ve seen him like this a thousand times, but not when he’s looking at you so vulnerable, heart tore open and stapled to his chest, beating against your own as his hands splayed out over your cheeks.

“I don’t regret it,” he assures you again, “so please—stay, okay?”

“What changed?” you ask, voice trembling, “Five years, Harry. Five.”

“I’ve been running in circles this entire time,” he admits, “you know it—I know it.”

You had been there the entire time, learning every part of him without judgement, cataloging his flaws and skills, learning how he ticked and what motivated him. You had never quite settled on the ideal person to fit in his life as his partner, it surely wasn’t you.

It couldn’t be you.

“Please, don’t go,” Harry echoed once more.

The sick, cruel joke of it all was that this was your job. 

You had nowhere to go. If it was any other morning, you would just be arriving, leaving his breakfast in the kitchen and starting your day.

You nod solemnly, “Of course, Mr. Castillo.”

It was painstaking, forcing the mask back on.

But, you couldn’t deal with this now.

Or ever, even.

Harry looks at you with a confused sadness, thumbs rubbing at your cheekbones before his hands fall to his side.

You’d figure this out, you always did.

[prisjean]

₊˚ˑ༄ؘ HELD CLOSE caleb x reader

synopsis: after finding out your ex cheated on you, an angry caleb comes and saves the day, and then comforts you hehe ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧

tw: MDNI +18, p in v, no condom (pls use protection), cumming inside, caleb gets NEEDY (or i try to make him seem that way lolz), he says pipsqueak in the middle of it (only once), dry humping, slight biting, and long plot (i try to make it worth it PLS)

authors note: literally i had to take a break writing, esp during the dry humping scene cause HOOOO lorddd this makes me want caleb more than ever. thank you @tbaluver for helping me write this & happy reading everyone!! ᡣ𐭩

“hey pipsqueak.” his voice was warm, familiar but his sharp eyes immediately narrowed. “what’s wrong?”

you forced a smile, shaking your head. “nothing, i’m fine.”

caleb tilted his head, his expression softening but showing a bit of his possessiveness. “oh no no no, don’t lie to me. i can see it all over your face.” his voice was firm but gentle, a thread of concern weaving through it.

your resolve cracked, and a fresh wave of tears welled in your eyes. “he cheated on me, caleb,” you whispered, voice breaking. “i feel so...so stupid.”

his jaw clenched, and his nostrils flared. the muscles in his neck tensed, his grip on the phone tightening. "who?"

you hesitated, but when you said your ex’s name, caleb’s eyes darkened. “...i’m on my way back to linkon,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

“caleb, you don’t have to-”

“don’t.” his voice cut through your protest. “i'm almost there, just stay put.”

you knew better than to argue when he got like this, so you nodded, biting your lip as he gave you one last lingering look before ending the call.

it wasn’t long before a knock sounded at your door. when you opened it, caleb stood there, his casual clothing slightly disheveled, his knuckles bruised and raw.

your eyes widened. “caleb…”. you grabbed onto to his hands.

he shrugged, gazing down at you before. “had to teach that asshole a lesson.” wanting him to calm down, you led him to the couch.

your heart ached, but you couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips. you looked at him before speaking, “but you.. you didn’t have to.”

he reached out, wiping away the stray tear lingering on your cheek. “yeah.. i did.” his voice softened. “no one gets to mess with you and get away with it.”

you sighed, leaning into his touch. but your chest felt tight, you didn’t know why, but somehow, you found yourself sitting on his lap, his hands found your waist, his touch gentle but firm, grounding you in the moment. “what am i gonna do without you?” you chuckled softly.

caleb smirked, caressing your cheek. “lucky for you, you’ll never have to find out.”

caleb’s eyes softened as his hand rested on your cheek, but even as his gaze held yours, there was a storm behind his violet eyes, something darker. his lips parted like he was about to say something, but he didn’t. the silence between you two was becoming unbearable.

then his hand gripped your face, pulling you closer, his lips crashing against yours with a fierce, desperate energy that sent you spiraling. it wasn’t gentle but of a hungry, needy, force that demanded attention. as his kiss deepened, you could feel the tension running through him and slowly through you, neither of you fully able to control the emotions swirling inside.

as the kiss deepened, the world around you disappeared but only the feel of caleb’s lips, his warmth, his touch. his hands were everywhere, your waist, your back, pulling you closer, as if he couldn’t get close enough. the two of you were practically moaning in each others mouths, every second felt like it wasn’t enough. the heat between you both was unbearable, and with each kiss, each caress, it felt like everything that had been unspoken was finally free.

but then, you couldn’t take it anymore. you pulled away, your chest heaving with the intensity of the kiss with your heart racing like it might explode. you stared at caleb, trying to catch your breath, feeling his body still pressed against yours, the distance between you barely existent. you didn’t want to stop, didn’t want to face the reality of pulling back, but your feelings were conflicted.

you bit your lip, your gaze flicking to the side as you gasped for air. “caleb, i can’t... this is too much, i—”

before you could finish, caleb’s hands grab onto yours, he presses his forehead onto your knuckles before looking right back up into your eyes. his eyes were dark, full of raw need, and his jaw clenched tightly. “no. don’t you dare do that.”

his voice was rough. “you can’t pull away from me now. not when i’ve been wanting this for so long.” the words came out like a confession, as though the weight of everything he’d been holding back had finally come crashing to the surface. his gaze softened, but the longing was undeniable. “i’ve been waiting for this, waiting for you...”

“please,” he whispered, his voice thick with desire, almost like a prayer. “don’t push me away when i finally have you here. don’t make me wait any longer.”

you didn’t know what to say. his words wrapped around you like a chain, pulling you back toward him. no man could ever long for you the way the man in front of you did. your pulse raced and before you can even mutter a reply, caleb closed the distance, capturing your lips again in a kiss that felt like a promise.

his hands roamed again, desperate to keep you close, to feel you against him, like he needed to anchor himself to something real. the way he kissed ignited a fire in you. it couldn't be helped when you started rolling your hips forward just to gain a little bit more of him. you started to feel him harden against you, making the friction unbearable to keep your moans intact. you could tell he was enjoying you by the way his hands clutched desperately on your back, with nails digging in as he pulls you even closer. his kisses grew more frantic, little whines and gasps escaping him between each one. he would so often lift his hips eagerly to meet with every roll you had to offer him, bitten off whines leave his lips as you continue to grind your clothes cunt onto his clothed cunt.

caleb's breath hitched as your lips suddenly trailed along his neck. his hands tangled in your hair, holding you close as you nipped and sucked at his sensitive skin. a low groan rumbled in his chest, vibrating against your lips.

"god, i've dreamed of this," he murmured, voice husky with desire. his hips bucked up against yours, seeking more friction. "dreamed of you, like this, for so long." he continued. 

caleb's voice grew increasingly desperate, his words punctuated by ragged breaths. "please," he begged, his fingers digging into your hips. "i need you. i need all of you." his eyes were wild, pupils blown wide with lust and longing. "touch me, taste me, anything” he kisses your knuckles. “just don't stop."

"i've waited so long," he whimpered, burying his face in your neck. his lips brushed your ear as he whispered, "make me yours. please, i'm begging you."

caleb's usual composure had crumbled completely, leaving him trembling and needy beneath you. his hands roamed your body restlessly, as if he couldn't decide where to touch first. "can i..we.." he murmurs, gesturing towards your skirt.

you nod, you can feel your cheeks heat up. your tone softens, "caleb, i have always been yours as you have been mine." you give him a smile. with trembling hands, he fumbles with his belt buckle. he finally managed to undo his pants, freeing his erection. the tip was already gleaming with pre-cum. with one swift motion, he lifted up your skirt and pulled your panties to the side, not wanting to waste a single second now. he softly guided you, leaving your soaked pussy to run through his tip. you start to slide down on him, taking him inch by inch. you both cried out at the sudden, intense sensation. caleb's head fell back, his mouth open in a silent moan as he savored the feeling of finally being inside you.

"p-pipsqueak.." his raspy voice fills the air as you began to ride him, letting his cock explore you as he whines with every hip roll.

"don't.. don't stop" he whimpers, his cheeks slightly flushes. you were moving at a slow, sensual rhythm that had him gasping for breaths. his hands continue to roam your body as you continued.

"use me however you want.." he whispers, his hands cup your clothed breasts. "don't stop using me till you're.. satisfied ngh.." he places his hands back on your hips, helping you bounce on him.

"caleb.. you feel so..so good.." you moaned in reply. your rolls had him hit your sweet spot and now you were almost at your high. your sounds seemed to ignite something primal in caleb. his grip on your hips tightened as he began to thrust up into you with renewed vigor. the room filled with the sound of skin slapping against skin, punctuated by your shared moans and gasps.

"and you.. ngh.. are so perfect," caleb groaned, his voice strained with pleasure. "so tight,.. so wet for me." he leaned forward, capturing your neck in his mouth, gently biting bite. the sensation sent shocks of pleasure through your body, making you clench around him.

you tangled your fingers in his hair, tugging gently as you rode him harder. "caleb, i'm.. so close," you panted, feeling the tension building in you.

his eyes locked onto yours, cheeks still flushed. "that's it.. princess.. please..please come for me... huu.. please let me feel you.."

his words, combined with the exquisite friction of his cock inside you, pushed you over the edge. you cried out, your body shakes as you rode your high on him.

"you're stunning.." caleb says adoringly as he watched you crumpled on him. "ngh.. im going to cum.. let me cum," you loved this new side of him. "cum inside me.." with a final, powerful thrust, he buried himself deep within you, his cock pulsing as he came. it sent you over the edge as you felt his seed warming inside you. both of your breathing were in synced, breathless as time seemed to go normal again. the air between you was thick with warmth, your bodies still tangled together, caleb didn't want to pull himself out of you yet. he wanted to cherish this moment. caleb’s hands, once gripping you with desperation, had softened, his fingers now tracing slow patterns along your back.

you let out a shaky exhale, pressing your forehead against his, your fingers still curled into the fabric of his shirt like you weren’t ready to let go. caleb’s hands slid up to cup your face, his thumbs brushing gently over your cheekbones.

“you okay?” his voice was lower now, softer, laced with something tender. he searched your face, his gaze lingering, waiting for any sign of hesitation.

you chuckled, nodding as you leaned into his touch. “i should be asking you that,” you whispered, teasingly. “that was a different caleb i saw back there.”

caleb chuckled under his breath, a small, breathy sound that sent warmth curling in your chest. “yeah,” he echoed, a hint of something affectionate in his tone. his fingers tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear, his touch lingering, like he wasn’t ready to stop touching you yet. "but, it couldn't be helped.. when i'm with you." he continues.

caleb shifted, adjusting so you were nestled against his chest, his arms wrapping around you with a quiet protectiveness. his heartbeat was steady beneath your ear, a rhythm that soothed you.

you sighed, melting into him as his warmth surrounded you, his steady heartbeat lulling you into a sense of calm. his fingers trailed absentmindedly along your back, tracing slow, soothing patterns, as if he needed to reassure himself that you were still here, still in his arms.

“you make me crazy, you know that?” caleb murmured after a moment, his lips brushing against the top of your head. his voice was softer now. “i don’t think i’ve ever wanted something this much.”

your fingers tightened slightly around his shirt, and you tilted your head up to meet his gaze. caleb’s eyes softened, and without thinking, he leaned down, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to your forehead. it wasn’t desperate or rushed like before, just warm, grounding, like he was trying to memorize every second of this moment.

“are you tired?” he asked, smirking a little. his fingers now tracing idle circles against your arm.

you hummed in response, your eyelids growing heavier. “a little.”

knowing you didn't run away from his confession, he pulled himself out of you and adjusted yours and his clothing as if nothing happened. he shifted slightly, just enough to lean you against him, making sure you were comfortable. “i’ve got you,” he murmured, his voice quiet, protective. “just rest, okay? i’ll be right here.”

you smiled against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, feeling the way his arms held you like he never wanted to let go. you had totally forgotten about your ex. the world didn't even matter to you at all, not right now, not when you had this.

and as sleep pulled you under, you heard caleb murmur one last thing against your hair, barely heard but filled with devotion.

“i'll always be by your side.”

[chastiefoul]

he finds you crying ft. love and deepspace men

ft. zayne, xavier, rafayel, and sylus a/n: I always feel like mc wasn’t given enough time to grief when chapter 4 happened (or maybe they just didn’t show it or i remember it wrong) but to lose the people you’ve considered family like that in front of your eyes would severely mess on anyone’s mental well-being. mc stronger than me fr i would've had a breakdown every night. so i tried to write the comfort that was long overdue. <3

Zayne

He found you hunched over at the couch, knees tucked to your chest. your shoulder shook as he heard the sniffles and although he’s physically perfectly fine, he swore it felt like his heart was breaking in two.

He would gently put his key on the table, making his presence known in the subtlest way possible so you didn’t get startled.

You quickly tried to wipe your eyes and sat normally but suddenly in no time you were carried as he made you sit on his lap, bringing your head close to his neck as he held you tight.

Zayne wasn’t one who’s great at offering consoling words, as he also a firm believer of actions speak louder than words. As he rubbed your back gently he only said, “Let it all out, I’m here.”

So you did just that. You’ve said this once to him as a joke, but truly, anywhere by his side was the time you felt the most safe.

The doctor continued to comfort you in silence, hoping with every beat of his heart that his arms and hands that’s so used in saving people’s lives, could offer at least some kind of solace for your heart that was in disarray.

Xavier

He’d never hated the sight of a bed so much, until he found you crying atop of it.

Xavier would rushes over to you (arguably faster when he encountered strayed wanderers), determined to do anything he could to help you feel better.

As he put a hand over your cheek, wiping the tears that just kept on coming he whispered, “I’m here, what do you need?”

When you couldn’t even manage a reply Xavier would just stay by your side, his and was diligent in rubbing the side of your face; he never felt so useless, knowing the little gesture gave almost to none help.

For someone who finds sleep easy inbetween every hours, that was the most restless he’s ever been. He stayed with you until you calmed down, offering gentle whispers as you felt your awake state slipping away.

The moment you’re asleep Xavier was keen on wiping your face softly off of the remaining tears, and he tucked you in properly. He brought you to his embrace.

Yet unlike any other nights, he couldn’t find any part of him that was able to join you into the dream state.

Rafayel

Rafayel knew he came at a bad time. Seeing the way you spoke so stiffly and the way you zoned out of the conversation every few minutes.

However, he also knew he couldn’t leave you alone right then.

The silence once again was loud, but he didn’t think you realize that, as he followed your stare to the table, to what’s on the top of the table to be exact. A necklace with an apple charm on it.

He approached your side, cupping your face with both of his hands. “Miss bodyguard, you don’t have to be strong all the time, you know? Especially now, since you’re off duty.”

You chuckled quietly, but what followed after was not your usual easy smile but instead it was tears streaming down your face. And it felt like Rafayel could offer anything he had just to make them stop. And if that’s not enough, he swore to give you twice or thrice of what he had, it didn’t matter if he was to be in debt.

He held you tight, the sight of you crying was enough to make tears made their way to his eyes as well. And it pained him, knowing the best he could do in that moment was only to hold you tighter, as he wished that he could mend whatever broken part you had with one of his.

Sylus

He didn’t even flinch when you climbed on his lap, your usual talkativeness was nowhere to be found.

You rested your head on his shoulder and within seconds he knew that your emotions were in chaos, and if you thought you could find comfort in him, then he was more than happy to be there for you.

“Let me stay like here for a while,” you said weakly, voice all tense and anxious.

He brought a palm to your back, “By all means, darling. You didn’t think I was going to turn you away, did you?”

You stayed quiet, trying your best to get your emotions in order but it just seemed impossible. Sylus then sigh at your another attempt to pretend once again that you’re okay. “Cry if you need. Tears were never a sign of weakness, it just proves that you’re human.”

His rigid sentence somehow brought a strange sense of comfort for you, making your tears escape freely.

Sylus’ fingers felt fleeting on your back, like a touch that could slip away anytime. But he made sure none of that will happen as he stroke your hair gently over and over.

Was he worried of you? Absolutely. Yet he believed with all of his entire being that you that has fallen apart that day, would have no time standing back up again on the next day.

If there’s anything he learnt about you during your time with him, is that you’re a stranger to giving up.

[celiababy]

Ain't Right

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: You have a major (borderline obsessive) crush on Joel, and you're on a mission to fuck him.

Warnings: 18+ SMUT MDNI, age gap (56/20), swearing, fingering (fem!receiving), p in v, unprotected sex, size kink, cum eating, name calling, kinda mean Joel, alcohol, vomiting, an extremely brief mention of suicide

Disclaimer: I lowkey don't know the logistics of the show so if some things are wrong please look over it I'm just trying to write smut about Joel Miller godbless.

Ain't Right part 2

Ever since that tortured old man showed up in Jackson, your life hasn't been the same.

Tommy's older brother, and your absolute undoing.

When Joel Miller rode into town, it was like everything suddenly made sense. The skies got clearer, the air smelled better, and the birds even chirped their love songs louder.

Everything about him drew you in; his cold demeanor, stoic face, tired eyes—but gentle around those he cared about, which was only a few select people.

And you certainly were not one of those select people.

Joel didn't know what to think about you.

To him, you were odd. Yes, you were undoubtedly the most beautiful girl in Jackson, but he felt distance between the two of you was essential.

He felt this way because he knew.

Joel wasn't oblivious to your stares; he might've been an old man, but he remembered the laws of attraction fairly well.

He didn't like the thought of you liking him.

You were young, attractive, and had plenty of age-appropriate prospects just begging for your attention. Every boy in Jackson wanted a piece of you—but you only had eyes for Joel.

He was getting old and tired, ain't no reason why you should be so fond over him.

He also didn't like that you made your attraction so obvious. It made people whisper, and Joel about had enough teasing from Tommy.

"You gonna let that young thing jump your bones or what, Joel?" Is an example of the few things his brother would chirp at him whenever you were around and had eyes on him like he was a target.

So, all things considered, it's no surprise when Joel is reluctant to make a supply run with you.

You had begged Tommy to let you go out and finally start pulling your weight, carefully adding that Joel would be a great teacher for a first timer like yourself.

You stand near the truck, squeezing the straps of your backpack while watching Joel and Tommy whisper to themselves a couple feet away.

"You can't find anyone else?" Joel growls lowly, narrowing his eyes at his insufferable brother who he’d really like to strangle right now.

"Are you seriously scared of a twenty year old girl, Joel?" Tommy asked exasperatedly, throwing his arm out in disbelief. "It'll take two hours tops, what the hell are you so scared of?" Joel is exhaling through his nose, dragging a hand down his jaw in complete disgruntlement.

"You know what the hell I'm scared of Tommy—goddammit," He gets in his brother’s face before realizing you’re still watching them.

He takes a moment to back up and calm down, breathing out through his nose.

"I do not need this town thinkin' I am encouraging this girls...feelin's." He murmurs lowly.

Tommy rolls his eyes before shoving Joel's backpack into his chest.

"Just don't fuck her, Joel. How hard could it be?"

Joel watches as Tommy turns his back and walks away, leaving just you and him.

Joel had spent a lot of time making sure he was never in a situation alone with you—now he was about to be your unsupervised mentor.

He feels a groan try and crawl its way out his throat, but he pushes it down.

He starts walking to the truck, not even looking at you as he passes and yanks the driver side door open with more force than necessary.

"Let's make this quick." He grunts out, climbing inside.

You do the same, only with a little bit more enthusiasm. ***

The trip is a complete bust.

Joel barely paid you any attention, no matter how many flirty gestures you made at him.

You'd say something remotely suggestive and he'd either glare at you, or just flat out ignore you.

But you were relentless. Giving up on him wasn't in the cards for you, no matter how many judgmental looks he casted your way.

You guys had been driving back to town for around five minutes; Joel has kept his eyes firmly on the road in fear of you sparking a conversation with him.

But you do anyways.

You turn your body to face him in the bench seat, your eyes cascading down his breath-taking side profile.

You zoned in on the gray patches of his beard, and how his face had the remnants of a long, unforgiving life weaved into his wrinkles and scars.

You're momentarily rendered speechless by his looks before he side-eyes you.

"What?" He huffs out, not being able to handle your intense stare any longer.

"Why not?"

A beat.

"What?" He asks again, his brows furrowing together, an annoyed and confused expression painting his features.

"Why won't you fuck me?"

Joel physically winces at your language, scoffing in what looks to be disgust as he starts shaking his head.

"We're not starting this." He snaps firmly, a tone in his voice that you haven't heard before.

Completely disregarding his words, you start.

"Is it because I'm not pretty enough?" Joel groans out, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. "Is it because there's someone else?" He's close to snapping. "Is it because you can't get it up? I heard thats a problem with guys your age-"

Joel slams on the brakes, sending you lurching forward. He shoves the truck into park before turning to face you, a scary look on his face.

"I am not going to fuck you--Christ almighty," Joel raises his voice at you.

You're staring at him, wide eyes and lips parted in surprise. You weren't really expecting this.

"you're bustin' my fuckin' balls, Look kid," He starts up again, this time with a softer tone. "M'about 40 years too old for you-"

You cut him off with a murmur. "36, I did the math."

"Same damn thing," he snaps, shaking his head. "Point is—you don't needa be wastin' your time with me; there are plenty boys your age that will satisfy your...you."

You scoff in his face but try to disguise it by clearing your throat.

"I'm not asking you to marry me, Joel," You start, a sad smile spreading across your lips. "S'just sex." You say with a shrug, blush coating your cheeks because now your mind is imagining sex with him.

He stays silent and looks away from you, closing his eyes like he couldn’t believe this was happening.

That urges you to say more.

"I won't tell anyone," You're practically whispering, looking down at your fidgeting hands in your lap. "I'd let you do anything you wanted to me."

Joel's heart cinches in his chest at your words, mostly because he can tell you're being so genuine.

Why the hell did you like him so much? He just couldn’t understand it.

But he can't entertain this any longer because he knows if he did, he'd give into you.

"I don't wanna hear another goddamn word outta your mouth." Joel says in a strikingly even and calm tone, putting the truck into drive and continuing back.

He's eerily silent, and so is the rest of the trip because you're too dejected to speak.

Eventually, you both arrive home and you're fast to get out of the truck.

You slam the door and keep your head down as you walk away, snow crunching beneath your boots.

Joel takes his time, watching you storm off with tired eyes.

He feels bad for being so rough on you, but he figured it was the only way to get you to stop liking him.

Tommy walks up, a concerned look on his face as he looks back between you and Joel.

"Guessin' you didn't fuck her."

***

Nobody had seen you in days.

The pain of rejection had you in a mental place that you had never experienced before.

No one has ever denied you—ever.

The situation was 100x worse considering you actually liked Joel, and he wasn't just another toy to play with.

Joel figured his life would get easier with you not around, and it kinda did in some aspects.

But he couldn't stop the gnawing feeling of guilt slowly eating at him like a parasite.

He'd been cruel to you in the way he went about things, and he felt bad.

Had he really broken your heart? He didn't know you liked him that much.

He sits in his living room, contemplating how to go about this entirely fucked up situation.

He debates making amends with you, apologizing and rejecting you again but in a gentler way.

He deliberates on his plan of action while nursing a glass of whiskey before he's interrupted by three bangs on his front door, followed by a screeching: "JOEL"

He mutters a 'what the fuck' under his breath, walking to the door and picking his 9mil up on the way.

His eyes widen when he sees you-standing there in all your glory.

It's the middle of winter and snowing like hell, yet you're wearing shorts and a tank top with a beer bottle in your hand.

"Jesus, kid-what the fuck," Joel ushers you inside quickly, taking his big jacket off the coatrack and draping it over you.

He also tosses his gun to the side, obviously you were no threat.

"You tryin' to get frostbit? Christ," he's swearing and muttering profanities as he guides you over to the couch, now basically swaddling you in blankets.

You've never been inside his house before, only ever walked passed it a few times. It smells like him.

You, however, smell like alcohol and bad decisions.

Joel picked up on how drunk you were the minute you stumbled through the door. He takes the bottle from your hand and sets it aside somewhere, glaring at you like how a mad parent would.

"The hell are you doin' out in the snow like that? Fuckin' death wish or somethin'?"

His words are kinda fuzzy in your ears, you're so drunk that you barely even register them.

An unprompted giggle spills from your lips as you shake your head at him.

"It's not snowing silly," You chide, making him out to be an idiot when, in actuality, it's a damn blizzard outside.

He knows from that statement alone that you are way off your rocker tonight.

"How much have ya had to drink, kid?" Joel asks, raking a hand through his graying hair.

"Don't call me kid," You snap, a quick flash of anger in your expression. "M'not a kid."

Joel rolls his eyes so hard that he probably caused a tsunami on the other side of the world.

“Yeah yeah, whatever. What are you doin’ here?” He asks exasperatedly, dragging a hand down his jaw while looking at your trembling figure.

There’s a long pause before you answer. You just got distracted by his big brown eyes.

“Jus’ wanted to say hi.” You murmur, unable to tear your gaze away from his face.

“Say hi?” He reiterates, looking at you like you’ve actually lost your mind.

You probably have.

After a moment, Joel can’t help but chuckle in disbelief, letting his body lean back against the couch.

The absurdity of it all turned humorous to him.

Here you are, sitting in his living room, practically nude with only his coat and blankets protecting your modesty, having just trekked through the snow all for what? To say hey?

You’re still sitting there, motionless and trying to remember how to breathe because his laughing face has your heart lighting off fireworks.

“Fuckin’ hell—hi.” Is all he says, turning his head to the side to look at you as he crosses his arms over his chest.

You smile like a dope at him, so extremely happy to be there in his company.

But the alcohol in your system is fighting you, and you’re finding it hard to keep your eyes open.

“S’it cool if I say the nigh?” You slur, falling vertically on the couch, your head crashing onto Joel’s thigh.

You nuzzle your cheek against the fabric of his jeans and Joel is just about to gently push you off, but he stops himself.

You look so comfortable and so at peace that Joel can’t do anything except stare at you.

Your cheek is slightly smushed, your lips are parted, your eyes are shut and don’t plan on opening—it’s insane to him how at home you looked.

Like you belonged here, head rested on his lap.

Fuck.

He was fucked this time.

He doesn’t move you. Instead, he fixes the blankets on top of you so you’re fully covered, and sits there with you the entire night.

He’s really gone soft.

***

When morning comes, you’re first to wake up, accompanied by a splitting headache.

You don’t even notice how Joel’s hand had fallen onto your waist some time during the night because you’re too busy making a b-line for the bathroom.

You chuck your guts up into the toliet, clutching the porcelain and groaning out in pain.

Joel wakes up to the sound of your hurling, momentarily disoriented before he remembers last nights events.

He’s quick to come to your aid in the bathroom, wasting no time gathering your hair in his fist to get it out of your face.

"S'right, get it all out," He murmurs out encouragingly, seemingly unfazed by the disheveled sight of you.

You’re too sick to be embarrassed, that’ll come later surely.

He sits on the wall of the tub as he continues holding your hair back, yawning every now and then like this was just a regular Tuesday morning.

Eventually, by the mercy of God, you get it all out of your system and slump up against the wall.

“M’sorry,” You immediately apologize, figuring that is the only right move in this situation.

“Don’t be. Been through plenty'a that in my day.”

His words are uncharacteristically reassuring and you find yourself taken back by them.

You soon realize this is probably just the hazy morning Joel, the Joel where he isn't worried about anything except coffee and breakfast—like everything wrong in his life is put on the back burner for this short minute in time.

“I’ll get you some water and Advil, sit tight.” He grunts before standing up on his feet, knees popping as he walks out.

You watch as he leaves, wiping the corners of your mouth with the back of your hand.

Aside from the vomit part, you could get used to this.

You've never seen him so...domestic. His hair was all messy, his voice was raspy, he had that morning haze over his features that you felt so honored to witness.

You suddenly felt compelled to look at your own appearance, hopping to your feet and looking in the dirty mirror.

You resist the urge to audibly gasp at your reflection, opting for a disgusted look instead.

Your hair is a rats nest, your clothes are a mess, and your mascara has rubbed off in black smudge all over the skin around your eyes.

In a desperate attempt to look at least semi-presentable, you wash your face with water and comb through your hair with your fingers.

The idea that Joel had seen you looking like that was making your stomach churn again.

Before you can grovel about it any longer, he rounds the corner with a glass of water and little brown pills in his hand.

“Here,” He says softly, handing you the water and tilting the pills into your open palm. “Take these ‘n drink all that water and ya should get to feelin’ better.”

You do as he says, swallowing the Advil in one go before taking a big sip to wash it down.

His eyes drift down to your shoulder, where your tank top strap has fallen. No doubt from all that vigorous throwing up you were doing moments ago.

Without thinking, his fingers graze your forearm before bringing the strap back up to its correct position, clearing his throat in the process.

A beat of silence falls over the both of you.

You’re gobsmacked by the complete nonchalance of his touch, staring at him with your mouth slightly open in shock.

“What?” He asks defensively, his tone pointed.

You look between him and your shoulder strap, then slowly move to set your water down.

“Are you sure we can’t fuck?”

“Goddammit—” Joels cursing before you can even finish saying the last word in your sentence.

He turns away from you, probably the fastest you’ve seen anyone turn in their life, and walks towards his room with an accelerating pace.

He shakes his head in disbelief all the way down the hall, pivoting on his heel to duck into his bedroom.

You follow him, not really fazed by how he completely refused to answer your question, though you didn’t think he would anyway.

Before you can step foot into the threshold of his room, Joel walks out, causing you to back up.

He shoves a stack of clothes in your direction, looking down at you with a frustrated face. “Put these clothes on and go home.”

You look down, realizing he was letting you borrow a sweater and jeans of his so you didn’t die walking back to your house from the cold.

Your heart warms at this thoughtfulness.

Without wasting any time, you take the clothes from his hands, smiling happily. “Can I keep them?”

“Why the hell would you wanna keep my clothes?” He’s got that confused/angry look on his face as he asks, and you have to suppress a giggle at the sight of it.

You bring the pieces of fabric up to your nose and inhale, humming as you breathe out again. “They smell like you.”

“Christ,” Joel beings his hands up to rub at his eyes. “Fine, do whatever. Just hurry up and change, jesus,"

Ever the tease, you set down his clothes and begin to lift your tank top like you planned to change right in front of him.

Joel's hands shoot out to stop you, a 'don't try me,' look on his face.

"Put them on over your clothes," Joel says sternly, watching the way you sigh because you weren't fast enough in lifting your tank top off.

However, you sieze the opportunity in front of you.

Joel's hands are holding yours down, so you work to intertwine your fingers, invading his space by stepping forward.

"Or, you could take my clothes off," You purr, your chest now flush with his torso.

Joel exhales through his nose, his jaw clenching as he tried deciding how he was going to get out of this situation.

But then he paused.

Looking down at you now, so eager and wide eyed, made him wonder.

If he fucked you, and made you realize it wasn't what you were probably imagining in your head, maybe then you'd finally leave him alone.

He would just...pretend to be awful at sex.

(Even though it had been so long and he wasn't sure if he'd actually need to 'pretend' anymore.)

There's a long silence that drags out between the both of you.

Your stomach is doing flips because it's looking like he's finally going to agree.

His resolve cracks and Joel can't do anything but sigh in defeat.

Slowly, Joel pulls you back into his room, closing the door behind you both.

Time is moving in slow motion.

You can't believe it's finally happening.

He guides you back until the back of your knees hit his bed, prompting you to sit down on it.

"I'm only going to do this once," Joel's voice is uncharacteristically low and calm, and it has your core tightening.

You nod in acknowledgement, waiting to see what he's going to do next.

With care, he pushes your shoulder down so you're laying on your back. "Are you sure you want this?" He asks, brown eyes searching yours.

"Have I not made it obvious?" You quip, a giggle following shortly after.

Joel only shakes his head before his fingers latch around the fabric of your shorts, pulling them down and off your legs.

"S'pose you have." He murmurs, scratching the back of his neck.

You're vibrating with excitement and you repeat what you tried earlier, only this time succeeding with taking your top off.

Of course, you're not wearing a bra.

Joel realizes in that moment that he bit off way more than he could chew.

He hasn't seen breast that weren't on a soggy piece of paper in at least a few years, and yours--well, his cock stood no chance.

You hear him swallow, watching as he can't seem to stop staring at your chest.

Realizing that he might need a little encouragement to start speeding things along, you smile up at him and whisper, "touch me Joel".

Yeah, screw this. His plan of pretending to be bad was now entirely forgotten—he was going to do what he wanted, so help him god.

He huffs out a curse before sliding a hand up your torso, stopping once he's fully cupped one of your breasts in one hand. He kneads it like dough while using his other hand to disappear under your panties.

A choked moan erupts from your lips once you feel his fingers brush along your clit, rubbing around and spreading your slick around all too slowly.

"haven't even done anythin' yet and you're already fuckin' soaked..." He murmurs really to just himself, his eyes casting down to watch as he rips your underwear off impatiently.

"M'always like this whenever you're around," you mewl to spur him on, spreading your legs wider.

"Oh you are, huh?" Joel repeats back, the tiniest bit of cruelty in his tone that makes you shiver.

You nod, bucking your hips into his hand desperately.

"don't get why you like an old man like me, s'gross." His tone is flat but it's clear he's teasing by the way he curls his fingers inside of you. He's not really expecting a response, but you feel compelled.

You lurch forward, gasping at the feeling. "I really like you," You rush out breathlessly. "I'd do anything you wanted me to." You say earnestly as you stare into his eyes, loving what you're seeing.

Joel remembers when you told him that the first time, his heart cinching the same way it did then.

Joel is at war with himself. One side of him is screaming that this whole situation is fucked up and he is better off without you.

Another part of him thinks that this is the most he’s ever felt in a long time. And he doesn't want to lose it.

You can see the gears turning in his head. His fingers have slipped from you and you wince at the loss.

Slowly, you sit up. Your arms wrap around his shoulders, your nipples pressing into his shirt.

He's confused and momentarily panicked when your faces get so close together, his hands seeking purchase on your hips.

In an unexpected move, you rake your hands through the side of his hair, looking lovingly at his face.

"I just wanna be someone for you," You murmur, your face breaking a little as Joel's resolve also cracks. "Doesn't matter what. I'm very versatile." You mumble the last part to try and lighten the mood.

Joel just stares at you—something swimming behind his eyes that you can't quite place.

Eventually, he crashes his forehead against yours, sighing out.

"You're makin' this fuckin' impossible." He rasps before kissing you with a passion you've never felt before.

You feel victorious.

He's finally given in to you.

Eagerly, you kiss back, wrapping your legs around his torso and grinding your bare cunt against the bulge in his jeans.

"Then stop trying so hard to get rid of me," You sigh out, chasing his lips even as you're trying to speak.

He groans and you catch it in your mouth, the pressure on his clothed cock making him dizzy.

“Fuck,” He’s quick to unbuckle his belt, sliding it out of the loops and tossing it somewhere on the floor. “Lay back.” He demands and you immediately follow suit.

He's never been that...assertive with you before. It makes you tingle all over.

He looks starved as he peers down at you, specifically your cunt.

He literally can’t tear his eyes off your sex—he only looks up to your gaze when you let out an impatient whine.

He rips down his pants, letting his cock spring free and slap against his stomach.

Now you can’t tear your eyes away from his sex.

You’ve only dreamt it so many times, but now that it’s finally in front of you—it all just feels surreal.

It’s better than you imagined, perfect.

“I don’t have a—”

You know what he’s about to say so you cut him off immediately. “S’okay, like it raw. Closer to you that way.” You murmur.

Joel looks physically pained that he’s not inside you right now. For some reason, you just know all the right things to say.

“Closer to me?” He huffs out, hooking his arms around your thighs and pulling you down to the edge of the bed where he stood.

Now your cunt is flush with the base of his member and the sensation drives you both insane. “You’re fuckin’ insane.”

Joel rasps, but the way he says it reveals just how far he’s fallen. He knows you’re crazy, and yet here he is, balancing you out.

He glides his member back and forth against your folds, gathering up your wetness with a clenched jaw and furrowed brows.

He looks so concentrated—meanwhile you’re writhing with pleasure and impatience. Your cunt is clenching around nothing, desperate for him.

“So fuckin’ pretty,” he murmurs to himself, eyes tracing all over you.

You freeze.

Joel had complimented you for the first time, and it was genuine.

He notices you stiffen and takes a moment to pause.

Your entire body erupts with goosebumps, your heart beating at exceptionally fast speeds.

He's worried for a second that something is horribly wrong.

“What?” He asks, confused at what’s got you so wound up.

Your face is flushed red as you bashfully giggle. “You called me pretty.”

Ah fuck.

Joel finds you so charming it hurts.

After he remembers how to breathe again, he rolls his eyes and clears his throat.

“I have my cock to your cunt, of course I find you pretty.”

You smile and shrug. “Still. Nice to hear.” You’re all smiles until his tip prods at your entrance, causing a gasp to leave your throat.

He continues to apply pressure with his tip and it’s driving you crazy.

“Fuck Joel—are you trying to kill me?” You whine, hips wiggling to get him in.

He scoffs and shakes his head. “Relax, m’almost there.”

Slowly, he begins pushing his way inside. His mushroom head breaches you entirely and it feels like you can hear the angels singing.

He continues forward, the stretch being mainly around the middle of his thick cock.

But you’re taking it like a champ.

Joel braces himself with hands on both sides of your torso as he bottoms out, a groan crawling its way out of his throat.

The sensation is absolutely delicious.

A little bit of pain from the stretch, but so much pleasure from the fullness.

“Joel, ohmygod you feel so good inside me.” You moan, throwing your head back.

Your hips start moving on their own, but he immediately stops you with two large hands.

“D-Don’t move—fuck.” Joel grumbles out, his face pinched together in what looked like pain.

You’re confused for a moment, thinking maybe that he might just be really into cockwarming.

But then it hits you.

“Were you gonna come?” The tone in your voice makes it seem like you’d be elated if that was the case—like the most flattering thing in the world.

Joel looks pissed that you caught on so quick.

In truth, the moment he put his tip in, he was holding back his orgasm.

Can you blame him? He’s only fucked his hand for the last couple years.

“S’been a while.” Is all he can say, his chest heaving up and down in concentration. You know he’s embarrassed, but you can’t help but smile like a dope at him.

“If you come, please do it inside, please,” you beg, reaching out for his arms that caged you in.

Joel's rational mind feels like it just touched down in looney town after hearing your begging.

He feels crazy because he liked the thought of the idea you proposed. You even see him hesitate. But then he scoffs and shakes his head.

Joel drops down closer to your face, slowly starting to rock his hips into you. "Tryin' to baby trap me, girl?" He grunts in your ear, making you moan out.

Your walls are clenching down on him, and it’s making it that much harder to hold back. “No-no, promise, just wanna be full of you." You manage to blubber out...unconvincingly.

You probably didn't really want a baby with Joel, but your lust-driven brain was working on fumes and you just wanted to do what felt good.

Joel's grunting in your ear was not helping things. His fingers were gripping your hip so hard, you figured it would probably bruise tomorrow.

Good. You wanted whatever he would give you.

"Christ--m'not gonna last much longer," Joel groans, picking his head up a little to meet your gaze. He wanted to kick himself for not being able to last, but when he saw your face, all those feelings disappeared.

You looked so--perfect. Soaking up the moment in case it was the last, god you hoped it wasn't the last time. Now that you've finally had a tase of him, you weren't sure you could live without it.

Your legs tighten around his waist, keeping him firmly in your cunt. Joel notices this and also your pleading eyes, a growl leaving his throat.

"Please, please, please, please," you beg, never breaking eye contact with him as his thrusts pick up speed.

He ruins your long string with pleas with a needy kiss, shoving his tongue down your throat like a starving man.

You accept it happily, moaning out into the kiss while Joel manhandles your hips to take his cock.

The feeling is damn near euphoric for both you and him. It gets even better when Joel's hand comes down to rub at your clit again.

Your back arches off the bed as you gasp and moan out, wrapping your arms back around his shoulders. "F-Fuck!" You moan into his ear, probably drooling on his shoulder in the process. "thankyouthankyouthankyou-" you sputter out in choked sobs. He was really good at working on your clit, you couldn't do anything else but thank him for it.

Joel feels a surge of something when he hears you. He's never had a woman thank him in bed before.

It's enough to push him over the edge. And apparently you too.

"I'm gonna come Joel, please don't stop," There are pools of tears in your eyes that Joel is just now noticing. He's about to reply to you, but he finds himself speechless when he feels your cunt start constricting and fluttering around him like a vice.

"Fuck!" He groans out loudly, his hips starting to falter in their rhythm. But then he picks up speed again, and in no time he's like a madman jackhammering into you.

You're a mess of screams and cries and moans underneath him, happily taking everything he was giving you.

When Joel feels himself about to come, he notices how your legs are still tightly wrapped around him, keeping him inside, and he manages to scoff out.

"Gotta let me go baby," You've never heard that pet name from him before, and it makes you crumble. His hands move to grab at your thighs, kneading the flesh there.

You whine out but reluctantly release the grip your legs had on him. Joel doesn't waste time before hugging both your legs on his chest, keeping them firmly placed while your feet squirmed by his ear.

"Atta girl," he murmurs before picking up speed again, his cock head pressing into your cervix.

It's all too much for you. Joel looks so amazing pounding into you from above, his concentrated face, his sweat, the way his salt and pepper hair is all disheveled, you're losing your mind.

Your core is on fire and you can't stop yourself.

In a staggering turn of events, you come first.

Your walls come down like bricks on his dick, you cry out, throwing your head back in complete bliss and ecstasy.

Seeing and feeling this, Joel is quick to follow in your steps. He rips himself from that warm hole of yours and pumps himself dry onto your stomach.

You watch it all with wide eyes, you wouldn't have missed Joel's orgasm face for the world!

Of course, his eyes were squeezed shut, his mouth was open as he was breathing heavily, and his eyebrows turned down like he was mad.

God he was so beautiful.

His thick ropes of cum shoot all over your stomach and even your breasts as he jerks himself off to completion.

When he finishes, he takes a moment to catch his breath, finally opening his eyes to see you scoop up his cum from your breast with your finger and shove it in your mouth.

Your tongue swirls around his seed and you swallow eagerly, humming out in satisfaction at the taste of him.

Joel's watching in complete fascination, though his expression looks a little angry. When does it not?

"taste so good," you mumble with your finger still in your mouth, looking up at him with your big eyes.

He moves before he can think about it--ripping your hand away from your lips and caging you in a slow but deep kiss.

He soon falls down beside you and soon rolls over onto his back, his chest rising and falling from the excursion.

You curl into his side, watching his side profile so intently. You had just fucked Joel Miller.

And it was everything you had dreamed of. Extreme happiness doesn't even begin to describe your feelings right now.

There's a long stretch of silence that drapes over the both of you. Eventually, Joel breaks it with something extremely off topic.

"Last night...you didn't just come here to say 'hi', did you?"

You're momentarily speechless, not expecting that question from him at all. But you can't stop a giggle from coming through your lips.

"Actually, I came to confront you." Your voice is soft as you begin speaking, thinking back to last night's ordeal.

Joel doesn't expect this answer, his head turns to look at you while you speak. His arm comes down to drape over your shoulder.

"I was really upset cus you rejected me n'all. I just couldn't accept the whole, 'age gap' excuse. I wanted to know if you just really didn't like me or not." You're murmuring, drawing soft lines with your finger on the skin of Joel's chest.

He huffs out a breath at the explanation, shaking his head. "Guess you got your answer, huh." He grumbles out, somewhat ashamed of himself that he couldn't hold back.

You smile and lean up to kiss his cheek. "I did," you chirp happily, admiring his face again. "You know you're gonna have to fuck me, like, everyday now, right?"

You're kidding. But you're also not at all.

Joel scoffs and sits up, moving to pick up both his and your shirts. "Fat chance. Barely had enough stamina for one round." He grunts out, finding the neck hole in your tank top and putting it over your head for you.

You don't bother to pull it down over your breasts so Joel does it for you.

"It's okay, we can build up your tolerance over time." You quip with a teasing smile, loving the way Joel turned to glare at you.

He couldn't believe the youth these days.

[esote-rika]

Red is Your Color | Spencer Reid

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!bau!reader

Category: smut 18+ MDNI

Summary: You just committed perhaps the most atrocious wrongly sent message ever. By some trick of nature, your coworker is more than willing to play along. (This is from @imagining-in-the-margins Wrong Recipient prompt list. Character receives scandalous selfies from a coworker; check out her prompts, they're really fun!)

Content: softdom!spencer, fingering, multiple orgasms (female receiving), p in v, creampie, reader is on the pill, Spencer calls reader a naughty girl and pretty girl, tenderness and lots of checking in, vaguely Christmas themed. 

Word count:  3.1k

A/N: I read something really poetic and profound yesterday and it inspired me to write, but my mind was in the gutter, so this happened. lmfao happy holidays. UNEDITED, I wrote this at 2 in the morning T.T

Do you think Santa would bend me over and punish me?

Spencer Reid was almost too scared to even open the following messages—he’d already made the mistake of opening this one. And there was a barrage of them, sent a few minutes after the very first one, in quick succession, one right after the other. His phone buzzed and buzzed, matching the distracting hum in his brain at the moment. He should probably read the next messages, because surely, surely those contain the explanation to this one.

Unfortunately, his eyes were glued on this first one—it seemed like it was the only one that contained a picture, after all, and what was that they said about a picture saying a thousand words?

What could it mean then, this picture his coworker had sent to him? What did it mean that he can’t seem to tear his eyes away from it? (What did it imply if he didn’t want to? That he liked the picture? That it made his pants uncomfortably tighter?)

He stared at the picture, his eyes greedily taking every inch of smooth skin exposed by the short, strapless sexy Santa dress his coworker was wearing. It wasn’t explicit—she was fully dressed, after all, but the caption, paired with the way she had been posed… Sitting on what he presumed was her bathroom counter, her legs artfully crossed, the fabric of the dress hiked up to reveal long, luscious thighs. With her pursed lips painted crimson, it was obvious what the message was meant to imply and Spencer felt his mouth grow dry. He shifted on his seat, both hands gripping his phone because he didn’t trust them not to wander down, to give himself relief.

No, he should not be jerking off to his coworker. He shouldn’t even be fucking looking at this photo. He should delete it, call Penelope and ask her to rewire his cloud or memory or data or whatever it was called. Just to get rid of it from his phone. That would be the decent thing to do, and Spencer had always prided himself on being a gentleman. 

He knew that would be futile; knew his mind would be treacherous and have the image of her with those supple thighs, and red mouth in his dreams, his nightmares, in every fantasy—

His phone was ringing.

He stared at it, wondering how she was sending so many messages so quickly, before he realized that she wasn’t texting anymore.

She was calling.

His thumb found the answer button without his consent. The next thing he knew, her voice was pouring from his phone’s speaker. Soft. Contrite. Embarrassed. He frowned. What on earth was she embarrassed about, he wondered. She, who looked stunning, who looked good enough to be worshipped—

“—Please say something, Spence.” she was saying, pleading, and something in his gut clenched. That nickname, coming from her lips. That nickname, coming from her lips, while she was wearing that dress.

“Spence—”

“It’s all right,” his voice was strangled. He cleared his throat, “It’s all right. I’ve deleted it.” Lie, what a liar, she deserved better than hastily told lies.

“Okay,” she sighed, relief palpable even without seeing her face to face, “I just didn’t want to get in trouble with HR, on top of everything.”

HR. He almost laughed. They wouldn’t care (unless someone blabbed, like what happened with Derek and Penelope, but he would never do that to her, not in a million years.)

“You wouldn’t, I promise… it wasn’t even that explicit, if I’m being honest.” he heard himself say. He rubbed his eyes in frustration—why did he have to add that?

Her laughter floats from the phone, nervous and low. “I guess not. I wasn’t about to send a complete nude to my friends.”

He straightened up, confused. “Your friends?”

“Yeah,” she replied, her voice still wavering nervously, “Like I said in my texts, it was wrongly sent to you, I was talking to my friends.”

In other words, it wasn’t for him. He would have known that, had he opened her texts, had he not been too busy ogling the picture she had mistakenly sent, the picture that wasn’t even for him. Something unpleasant burned in his chest, but he ignored it in favor of the curiosity that lingered.

“You send explicit pictures to your friends?”

“I thought you said it wasn’t that explicit,” she chuckled, “But, uh, yeah I do… I dunno, maybe that’s weird, but we were joking around.”

That was something new he learned today. That friends could casually send sexually charged photos to each other. The words flew out of his mouth before he could stop them. “So you don’t actually want to be bent over and punished?”

Dear heavens, sometimes he understood why his teammates gave him weird looks. If he had a mirror, he would give himself a weird look. Still, he held his breath for her answer, surprised by the wave of disappointment at the thought of her saying no, it was just a silly text.

The pause grew between them, and Spencer was almost about to apologize, when she spoke again.

“I mean, if someone were willing to do it…”

He swallowed. His pants felt tight once again, and he had to force himself to take deep breaths. This was not an invitation, he thought, she had not asked him, she was not saying if you wanted to do it (which, he does, desperately so.)

“Right.” he managed to croak. Another pause, as if she was contemplating. 

“Spencer,” she was whispering now, “Do you want to?”

“Yes.”

“How fast can you get here?”

“Give me fifteen minutes.”

You’re not sure what possessed you into inviting your coworker over, but you did. And now, you’re sitting in your living room, in that blasted sexy Santa dress, panic texting your friends about it. He had said fifteen minutes. Eight minutes had gone by, and you knew he would fulfill his promise. He would be here in seven minutes.

Perhaps you weren’t expecting him to agree. Your perception of Spencer Reid has always been of a sweet genius, wholly brilliant and too preoccupied with academics to even give a second thought to sex and romance. He was a germaphobe, for crying out loud, you had thought it would make him have some sort of aversion to the inevitable sticky, sweaty mess of two bodies coming together. 

But you’d heard it in his voice. Strained, low, and riddled with desire. 

So you had mustered enough courage to ask. And now—

Your doorbell cut through your thoughts. Taking a deep breath, you shoved your phone into a drawer, not wanting to see the offensive piece of technology for the rest of the night. You looked out through the peephole, and there he was, still in his office clothes. Tall, and slender, and dishevelled and yours for the night.

You pulled the door open, ignoring the heavy thump in your chest. 

He smiled. “Hi.”

“You’re early.” You teased, standing aside to let him in. His eyes were glued to you, pupils dilating as he took you in.

“You’re still wearing the dress.”

Right. Once you had realized you sent the text to Spencer instead of your friends, you had spent the next several minutes in agonizing anxiety, sending text after text to Spencer in an effort to explain. In your utter mortification, you had forgotten to change out of it.

He seemed to like that. It gave you enough confidence to surge forward, blindly, recklessly.

“I am.” You said, red lips tugging into a smile you reserved for handsome strangers at a bar. You lowered your voice, just enough for the next words to come out breathless, “Honestly, it’s a little itchy.” 

“Is it?” He stepped forward, crowding you into the door. It creaks as it moves with your weight, the knob clicking in place. He reached forward, and you held your breath, anticipating his hands on you, gently running over your skin, but instead they closed over the doorknob, locking it. He didn’t miss your reaction, though, his eyes a glittering night sky of sweet, utter want. “Maybe I can help you with it.”

You nodded, mouth parted in silence, whatever words you wanted to say have died in your throat.

He brought his hand up, caressing your jaw, and you marvelled at how large his hands are, long fingers reaching the nape of your neck. “Red is your color.” he murmured, before leaning in to capture your lips.

His lips were cold and chapped, and you returned his kiss eagerly in an attempt to warm them. Your mouth opens at one swipe of his tongue, moaning as he leans his whole body into you, pushing you harder against the door. Tonight, you learned that Spencer Reid, the sweet, unassuming genius, kisses like he wants to crawl into you. It’s a sloppy mess of tongue and teeth, and a whimper escaped your mouth as he bit your lower lip.

“Too much?” he asked, pulling away for a moment. 

As an answer, you wrapped your hands around his neck, and returned the fervor of his kisses. You heard him chuckle, felt it on your own tongue as it happened and it made your knees buckle from sheer want. 

His arms wrapped around your waist, hoisting you up into his embrace. You felt him move, stumbling across your apartment before setting you down again. The blunt edge of a drawer hit your lower back, just as he pulled away. 

A whine left your lips. You didn’t know if it was from the pain, or the loss of his kiss.

“Turn around, darling.” he murmured, but your brain was so damn distracted you just stared at him blankly. He grinned, hands at your hips gently maneuvering you to face away from him. “You said you wanted to be bent over.” 

Chills went down your spine as he pushed you forward, elbows landing on the smooth, wooden desk. 

“Y-yeah, I did say that.” you managed to reply. This time, the breathless quality in your voice was not an affectation. You felt his nose on your neck, pushing away the stray locks of hair, before his mouth landed over the skin, open and wet, traversing the expanse of your flesh with reckless ardor. You moaned, craning your head back in a wordless plea for more.

You felt teeth, the sting of it clamping over your flesh. You didn’t even realize you’d yelped until he stopped.

“Sorry,” he whispered, soothing the bite with his kisses.

“It’s okay,” You replied, one hand reaching up, running through his hair. “Do it again.”

The rumble of his laughter made your stomach warm. He sunk his teeth into your neck again, sucked at the spot he bit, and you would have face planted into the desk had it not been for his hands holding you up. 

“You’re a naughty girl,” he purred against your skin, “Aren’t you? Sending that picture to me, I bet it wasn’t even an accident.”

“It was,” you protested, but then he grinds his crotch into your ass and any indignation was stifled by the feeling of how damn hard he was. “It was - I didn’t mean to—”

“You didn’t mean to make me this hard?” he asked, rolling his hips against you, “I think you knew exactly what you were doing, naughty girl.” Before you could answer, you felt something digging into your ass. He was tugging at your panties. To the side, as if he couldn’t even be bothered to strip it off of you. 

It was hot as all hell.

“My god, you’re absolutely soaked for me.” he groaned into your ear, and you gasped as the rough pads of his fingers ran through your cunt. Somehow, his fingers have remained cold, and the sensation sent a shudder down your spine.

“S-Spencer,” you whined, knuckles finding leverage at the edge of the desk you’ve been sprawled over.

“Mhm? What is it, darling?”

“M-more.”

His laughter filled the room once again, “And I thought I was being needy.” he said, but he obliged your request easily, slipping two fingers into your pussy. His breath fanned over the overheated skin of your neck as he buried his face against your shoulder, “Is this okay?”

“Yes,” you moved your hips against his hand, chasing the rhythm of his fingers. You’d never enjoyed this by yourself; your own fingers were thin, too short to cause any sort of pleasure when you touched yourself. But Spencer’s hands were large, his fingers long and elegant and perfect. They curled inside you, hitting a spot you’ve never been able to with your own hands, and you cried “Oh, fuck yes!”

It was everything. Quite literally. His arm was holding you against him, his body a solid, lean mass behind you, pressing into the slopes of your own, digging in wherever your softness yields to his hard angles. You moaned and moaned again, as his fingers quickened, as his thumb found your clit and rubbed fast circles until your arms gave out and your entire upper half was splayed on the desk. 

He didn’t stop, cooing soft words into your ear, his tongue and lips and teeth a whole other dangerous territory of its own. You knew you would have hickeys tomorrow. You knew the team would ask questions. You didn’t particularly care.

“Can you take more?” he asked, and you nodded, eager to take whatever he was going to give. A third finger slid into your dripping cunt, stretching you in ways you haven’t felt in a long time and you groaned, head buried in your arms. He paused, his other hand rubbing circles on your hip, “Are you all right, darling?”

“Yes.” you sobbed, and you knew he wouldn’t believe you because you sounded sad, and everything that Spencer has done up until this point proved that, despite it all, he cared. 

“You can tell me if it’s too much, you know.” he murmured. His lips laved featherlight kisses along your shoulder.

“I’m fine,” you insisted, bucking your hips. The idea of being slightly incoherent from the pleasure he’s been giving you was a little too enticing, and you were in no mood to stop, “Please.”

“Okay,” he resumed his ministrations, slower this time, dragging his fingers in and out of you with a precise rhythm, now that he’s figured out your weak spots. “You are so pretty like this, darling. Dress hiked up, your lipstick smudged.”

A mewl came out of your throat, and you would have been embarrassed if you still had the presence of mind to feel an ounce of shame. He coaxed a second orgasm from you, and you marveled at the fact that he could elicit responses like these with just his fingers. It seemed unfair, but a large part of you reveled in it.

“That’s it,” he whispered, slowly pulling his fingers out, “That’s my pretty girl.”

You lifted your head from your arms. The sight that welcomes you is a blurry one, impeded by the clumpy eyelashes and messy tears that had gathered in your eyes. You knew you looked a mess, far from the pretty girl he kept repeating, but you ate up the praise all the same.

As if by their own accord, your hips move back, grinding into his erection. You wanted more. You wanted him to be in the same daze you were in right now, wanted to be one. “Spencer,” you whined, and he laughed, and you wondered if it was possible to get drunk off of a sound.

“You’re insatiable, aren’t you?” he replied, playfully chastising, but the sound of his belt buckle reached your ears and you grinned.

“Just wanna make sure you get something too.” you mumbled.

“Is this a bad time to tell you that I had forgotten a condom?”

Now it was your turn to laugh, bracing yourself on your elbows again, and looking over his shoulder.

“Wow, isn’t your whole thing the complete opposite of forgetting?”

“I was a little distracted.” he said, his smile sheepish.

“I don’t mind,” you replied, “I’m on the pill.” 

“You’re sure?”

“Mhm-hmm.” You nodded, one arm moving and blindly grasping for the zipper of your Santa dress. His hand gently encircled your wrist, placing it back on the desk.

“It stays on,” he said, as the blunt tip of his cock pushed past your pussy, “I told you, red is your color.”

Your mouth dropped open as he sheathed himself inside you in one thrust, and wordless expression of pleasure. He had spent a large chunk of time fucking you with his fingers, and the necessity of it dawned upon you now.

He was big.

The stretch made you groan, eyes squeezing shut as your pussy fluttered around him. He pressed his body over yours, pushing you into the desk as he began to rock, in and out of you. Involuntarily, you clenched around him, earning a sharp hiss.

“You feel so good,” he groaned, holding you tightly around the waist with one arm. The other went to the desk, steadying himself as he found a rhythm that made you writhe beneath him, “Oh god, yes.”

You couldn’t even respond, your body moving on autopilot, meeting his every thrust with your hips. The sounds your bodies made were obscene, wet, sloppy noises of flesh meeting flesh. It filled your head, made you dizzy with pleasure. 

“Spencer,” at this point, you’ve lost count of how many times you’ve repeated his name. The world has anchored all meaning to that one sound, and you said it, over and over again, “Spencer.”

“Mhm,” he responded by snapping his hips, pushing his cock so deep into your toes curl, “That’s it, darling, say my name.”

“Spencer,” you said in your broken voice, every repetition turning higher and higher in pitch, and it seemed like the higher your voice went, the harder he fucked you. Your desk banged against the wall from his rough thrusts, joining the cacophony of sounds from your coupling. 

His pace grew rougher, faster, his grip on you reaching the point of painful and bruising, but it made your head spin in the most delicious way possible. You clenched around him, squeezing his cock in an attempt to find your peak, and instead initiating his.

“Fuck—” he groaned, as his load exploded inside you, somehow filling you even more, and you dropped your head to the desk again as your own body shuddered with release. 

Panting, and exhausted, you both stayed there, bent over the desk half upright, like a tower about to topple. He kissed the back of your neck as you fought to catch your breath. Looking over your shoulder, the sight of him fills your vision, hair tousled and sticking to his forehead, his lips smudged with your lipstick, and you couldn’t help but think that red is his color too.