#i'll give it a tag in case i come back to do more

[wallabywhump]

Inspired by this gifset, and people in the tags saying "yoga teacher Tommy anyone?"

So, uh, please accept this offering of Season 1!Buck and Yoga Teacher!Tommy 😊 I haven't spell or grammar checked this, so please excuse any errors, I will do that before I put it on ao3 (maybe as a first meeting AU for BuckTommy week?) later lol.

Rating: Mature (esque), Buck is having some not safe for work thoughts about yoga teacher Tommy >.< (and Buck's own arousal 🤤)

Word count: 1.9k~

Enjoy!!

Buck slides through the half-open fire door at the yoga studio without double checking back down the alleyway he walked down. He's on the third yoga teacher from this particular studio, her name is Jewel on Tinder, and they usually fuck in her empty classroom.

She'd leave the door open; he would make his way through half empty hallways and dodge any actual pupils from her classes, and then they'd leave the door unlocked and-

So, he's not feeling like he needs to double check himself as he makes his way to her classroom. He keeps his head high, because if he bumps into Tiff or Kailey, he's not going to say no to them joining either, and saunters his way into Jewels classroom.

Buck feels wrong footed when he opens the door, and there is a man standing at the front of the class. He takes half a step back to check the room number on the door, and it's definitely 217 which is the number Jewel had texted that afternoon when he'd been sexting her from his bunk.

Buck knows he should probably turn around, leave, get out of there, because he has plans with Jewel, except he can't seem to take his eyes off the back of the head of this guy's head.

He's big, and burly, with arms that look like they could do some damage, rivalling some of the bigger men at the Firehouse. They're shiny and look near throbbing, in the way that Buck tends to see from the men at the gym who've just spent an hour working out, beads of sweat along lines of muscle. The kind of men he spends hours talking to about their routine, their protein intake, what weight they've made it up to.

Men who like and appreciate a good workout. Men whose physique Buck admires. Men who Buck looks up and down and commits to memory for inspiration when they're sweaty and their gym clothes no longer hide anything.

And, well, Buck can see from across the room that mystery male yoga teacher is covered in sweat. The guy's tank top isn't hiding anything, stuck to him, and Buck sees his shoulder muscles outlined by the dark fabric.

There is a towel slung over his shoulders that looks equally soaked, catching the beads that roll down his neck.

Buck follows the towel down the planes of the guy's back, the tank top clings to his waist and Buck wants to suck the sweat out of it.

The thought feels like a bucket of water over his head, and he blinks.

What?

Buck's mouth feels dry, and his mind is spinning, completely caught off guard by the desire to quench himself with a strangers sweat, and he's still staring at the guy's hips. He can't stop his eyes drifting lower and over those shorts that are obviously for modesty's sake but are achieving nothing because they've risen up between the guy's asscheeks and are cupping them perfectly.

Buck wants to blame having come here already half-horny and ready for a fuck for the way that his blood is rushing.

A good ass is a good ass.

And mystery male yoga teacher has a delicious looking one.

Buck takes a step back, committing mystery male yoga teacher's back profile to memory, and ready to find Jewel and not think about this.

But then the door swings closed against Buck's ass, and he stumbles forward into the room.

Mystery male yoga teacher jumps up and spins around and, God, Buck kind of wishes he hadn't.

The guy's front is just as gorgeous as the back, hair sticking to his forehead. His pecs are incredibly perky, yet another thing that Buck notices in other men when he's at the gym, and the tank top has risen up slightly to show off a hint of his abs, and the start of the 'v' down towards his groin and Buck would love to get his tongue in that and-

"Can I help you?"

Buck's head snaps up to look at mystery male yoga teacher's face and becomes aware that his mouth is open, and he's been looking at the poor guy like he was a tall glass of water and Buck parched.

Buck unsticks his tongue from his bottom teeth, and swallows. "Hi."

Mystery male yoga teach does not look impressed. He raises his eyebrow, - Buck wonders how someone can have such blue eyes, he could get lost in them - and tilts his head to the side.

"Want to try that again?" He asks.

Buck nods, a little numbly, and now he's looking at the guy's face, he can't stop. Buck kind of wants to kiss the guy's cheek bones, nibble along his jaw, lick the cleft of his chin. Buck's vision whites a little, as he tries desperately to steer his thoughts away from horniness.

"I," Buck starts to say, and his voice cracks so harshly that Buck has to stop and clear his throat. Maybe he was thirsty. "I was here to see Jewel."

"Jewel?" Mystery male yoga teacher says, eyebrows furrowed, looking so adorably confused as his face scrunches up. "Jewel...I don't..." Tommy's face goes completely blank for a second. "Ah, right, Julie. You mean Julie, kid?"

"Sure," Buck agrees, because he doesn't know Jewel as Jewel, but he's fairly certain Tiff and Kailey hadn't used their names either.

Mystery male yoga teacher rolls his eyes. "She went home with the flu just before her last class," he says, "sorry, kid."

He turns away, leaning over to start packing the bag at his feet, and Buck can't help but look at the guy's ass again. Bent over, it only makes those shorts ride up even more, and Buck imagines crawling across the yoga classroom floor and burying his face between them.

Can't be much different than with a woman, right?

Buck kind of wants to be smothered by them, wants to let the guy use his tongue, to feel strong thighs around his head. Buck swallows, and runs his tongue along the inside of his mouth.

"Anything else?" Mystery male yoga teacher asks still bent over.

Buck shakes his head, and then breathes. "No, nope, I'm just-" admiring the view? "I'll be leaving," Buck settles for.

But he doesn't get the chance to move, because mystery male yoga teacher chooses that moment to squat, and his thighs flex and Buck's vision has full on spots dancing in them now, with how easily the other mans legs bend, and how flexible he looks fully squatted, but strong and so in control, because his ass is just inches from touching the ground.

The man bounces when he reaches the bottom of his squat, just slightly, two bounces with his legs spread and his ass dropped, and, fuck, Buck hates that Jewel has flu.

He's going to need to borrow the studios showers to douse himself, for sure, because there's no way he makes it home with how hot he feels right now.

"Look, kid, need me to pass on a message to Julie?" Tommy asks, twisting around - still squatting, how flexible is he? - and looking at Buck.

Buck fumbles to pull his phone out of his pocket. "Nah, I can just-" He clicks the button, only for the screen to stay black. Well, that explained why Jewel hadn't messaged him that it was off. "Damn," he mutters.

Mystery male yoga teacher raises an eyebrow.

"Yeah, actually, can you just tell her that..." Buck trails off, and his face feels warm, because she's not going to know his name, but he can't just tell this adonis his tinder name, and he doesn't tend to tell people outside his job that his nickname is Buck. "Tell her Evan stopped by."

Mystery male yoga teacher bounces on the balls of his feet and stands up, his bag slung over one shoulder, and shakes his head. There's something to his expression, mild disappointment, but also understanding. "Julie's not going to know you as Evan, is she?"

Buck wishes the floor would swallow him up, because this man has him pegged. Or maybe he just knows his coworker really well. Could be either. Buck refuses to be embarrassed by it though, and he shuffles on the spot, puffing out his chest a little, and swallows to steel himself.

"It's, uh, Firehose."

Buck braces himself for ridicule, maybe a laugh, but mystery male yoga teacher doesn't laugh. He smirks instead, and his eyes drift down to Buck's body, lingering on Buck's chest for a few seconds before landing on half-hard cock.

Mystery male yoga teacher's eyes go half lidded, his tongue runs along his lips, and he swallows before tilting his head to the side. Buck wants to preen because he just got checked out. He just got checked out by a hot guy, and based on the reaction, the hot guy liked what he saw.

"Is it now?" Mystery male yoga teacher's voice is just as dry as his expression had been earlier, and something about that flat tone, the obvious flirt in it, does something for Buck.

"People like to tell me it is, at least," Buck flirts back with a wink.

Mystery male yoga teacher's grip on his bag makes his knuckles white, and the man nods. "I guess if it's peer reviewed," he says, finally looking away from Buck's groin to his face, and raising an eyebrow.

"By many people," Buck says, and then flounders a little because he knows he wants to flirt, but he hasn't flirted with a guy before, is he doing it right? "Very good at putting out fires, the pressure has five stars, definitely who you want to call for your emergencies."

The guy barks out a laugh, and maybe Buck missed the mark with that one, but the way mystery male yoga teacher's face scrunches up as he smiles is something Buck wants to treasure.

"Okay, well, down boy," he says. The words send a sharp bolt of electricity down Buck's spine, his skin feels like it's on fire, and he inhales sharply. "I'll let Julie know Firehose was here for her, okay?"

Mystery male yoga teacher is moving closer, clearly ready to leave, and Buck knows he'll probably never see him again if he lets him leave.

"Or, or, you could not," Buck says, quickly, it rushes out of him. "I mean, I-"

All Buck's smoothness is gone, and mystery male yoga teacher is barely two feet away, and now Buck can smell him. He sways on the spot, wants to chase that smell, press his nose into it and smell it forever. Most men at the gym don't get this close, but Buck thinks the gym might be ruined forever if he ever reacts like this again.

"Jewel didn't even give me her name," Buck says, and steps closer to him, "can't have been that serious, you know?"

"You didn't give her yours either," the man points out, unimpressed.

Buck nods, shaking his head in a 'good point' motion. "Okay, but I gave it to you."

Mystery male yoga teacher laughs again. "When I asked you." The lilt to his voice is like a sirens call, and Buck wants to make him laugh again.

"I don't give it to just anyone." Buck tries his best to look up through half-lidded eyes, bites his lip in a way one of his older flings used to like, and softens his eyebrows to appear just a little bit younger.

It works like a charm.

"Jesus Christ," Mystery male yoga teacher whispers, "you're something else, Firehose."

"Evan," Buck corrects, and smirks, because hook, line, sinker, he's bagged himself another yoga teacher.

"Well, Evan-"

Holy fuck, Buck is fairly certain he could come from this man's voice alone, his name in this man's mouth is a weapon.

"-I'm Tommy."

[hotchner-edu]

I was thinking about a cute scenario where Hotch misplaces his Rolex and is kinda bummed about it but reassures his girlfriend that he’ll just get another one someday. She has been saving up to get a new car but instead uses her money to surprise Aaron with a new rolax and he’s all like 🥹🥹🥹

The thought of spoiling that man consumes me.

The Watch | Aaron Hotchner

The case of the missing Rolex came to your attention before it did to Aaron's, and you were probably more devastated about it than your boyfriend was.

"Sweetheart, it's fine. I'll just get another one soon." He tries to placate you as you practically tear through his closet. Knowing Aaron, soon meant close to never due to how hectic his work life could get.

"It's not fine!" You call out from your spot on his closet floor. "A Rolex submariner going missing should qualify as an emergency situation."

You hear Aaron chuckle fondly and come up behind you, crouching down to give you a kiss on your temple, his hands moving down to stop yours before you could claw through another stack of his folded pants. "Honey, you won't find anything there. Besides, I mean it. I'll just get a new one."

Frowning, you lean back into him and sigh as he wraps his arms around your middle and drops kisses around your face. "You stress me out." You say lightheartedly, sagging in his hold.

He lets out an affectionate laugh, his chest rumbling under your back. "I love you, too."

To the misfortune of your bank account, your love for Aaron spurred you to endlessly research the variety of Rolex series available on their website. You have to fight back a grimace at every comma in the price tags.

After logging out of your bank account app (to protect your peace), you settle on purchasing the oystersteel model which resembled the one he lost.

You ended up digging into your car savings fund to purchase the watch, but you had no regret in doing so. Although it created a bit of a dent in your efforts to replace your current car, Aaron deserved to be spoiled. Plus, you’d be receiving your next paycheck soon enough.

The watch takes a little less than a week to deliver. Taking no risks, you had the delivery fully insured and tracked the package’s movements like a hawk for days.

The hard part of the entire ordeal came with having to actually give the gift to Aaron. Of course, he wasn’t above accepting gifts, but receiving gifts that cost thousands of dollars, especially on non-holiday occasions, was something else entirely for him.

One night as he’s laying beside you, watching tiktoks with you on your phone, you decide to bite the bullet.

“Honey, did you ever find your Rolex?”

He chuckles a bit sheepishly, seemingly still a bit embarrassed to have misplaced something so valuable. “No. I think I might’ve taken it off during a case somewhere and left it in the hotel.”

Nodding, you suppress an excited smile as you suddenly sit up, causing his hands to grip your waist in surprise. “Where are we off to, sweetheart?”

“I need to pee really quick.” You say smoothly, giving him a sweet kiss. "And no, you can't come this time." He gives your ass a quick slap as you crawl out of bed, causing you to shake your head playfully as he chuckles.

Locking yourself in the bathroom, you gently open one of the sink drawers containing your skincare items. Digging to the bottom, you pull out the green leather box containing the Rolex, taking a deep breath before opening the door again.

"Something wrong, sweetheart?" Aaron's voice sounds from across the room immediately, noting how fast you left the bathroom.

"I forgot something." You say and hurry toward the bed, unable to hide the giddy grin on your face.

Aaron props himself up on his arm and raises an eyebrow as you practically launch yourself back on the bed.

"For the best boyfriend in the world." You coo sweetly and extend the box toward him.

Aaron stares at you like you have three heads for a moment before frowning and carefully taking the box. "Sweetheart, you didn't have to..."

Your mood dampens a little at that and your shoulders sag. Aaron picks up on it immediately and sits up fully, eyes widened as he places the box aside and cups your face. "Thank you, really. But it must have cost a fortune, baby."

"You deserve to be spoiled, Aaron. Besides, I'm still being conscious with my money, so don't worry about it." You say, smiling when he tucks you into his chest and kisses your forehead.

"It's my job to spoil you, y'know." He grumbles playfully, squeezing your hip.

Accepting his affection, you reach for the box again and wiggle it in front of him. "Yeah, yeah, don't you want to see what I picked out for you?"

Before he opens the box, he showers you with more kisses, unable to ignore the fuzzy warmth that filled him.

"The watch, Aaron!" You protest in a fit of laughter.

He grins against your skin as he kisses your cheek. "Thanking my woman comes first."

When he finally does see the watch, he wants to just freeze time and take a picture of your expectant grin, thinking you look absolutely beautiful as you wait to see his reaction.

So while you fuss over putting the watch on for him, all he can do is stare at you lovingly and debate on whether to buy you a new car or an engagement ring first.

[honeydazai]

୨୧·࣭࣪̇˖ taking care of you when you're sick

feat.: Dazai, Chūya, Ranpo, Fyodor, Nikolai, Sigma

warnings: none!

join my tag list here! 🪻

The moment you fall sick, DAZAI gets all the more annoying, obnoxious to the core as he whines about how unfair it is that you're sick and he's not — translating to “that you don't have to go to work and he does”. He might just use your sickness as an excuse to stay at home himself; after all, when you're in this critical of a condition, he has to be by your side at all times, right? Just in case of an emergency. Surely Kunikida and the President agree.

Taking care of others or even of himself isn't what he's particularly good at, though he will pretend to be absolutely certain about cuddling being a certain cure for any illness. If you threaten to give him the cold shoulder otherwise, he'll also go to the pharmacy and buy you medication, though he will either complain about it, or he'll play it up to be his God-given mission to save his stunning girlfriend's life.

“Hm? What do you mean, bella? Of course I've got the President's 'okay' for staying at home. Taking care of you is most important, after all, don't you agree? .. Don't be mean, I am taking care of you. I made you tea just now, didn't I?"

CHŪYA really doesn't like it whenever you're sick. While he's faced a handful of way more threatening situations before, he can't help but worry when you whine about your head hurting and your throat aching, about your stomach acting up or your vision blurring. It's not his fault that you're on his mind all day — he just wants you to be well. Is that too much to ask for?

Naturally, that translates to him being awfully good when it comes to him nursing you back to health. He wouldn't describe himself as a natural caretaker, but he is, in a way; he's protective and caring by nature, and he makes sure you're relatively well before he leaves for work every day. You don't just get the best medication on the market, but also energising meals made by him with the help of authentic recipes from elderly women he found online. To not fully lose his image, he half-heartedly complains occasionally, though his words are immediately redeemed by his beaming smile when he notices you're faring better.

“Jeez, that's one annoying cold you've got. It's been, what, like two weeks now and it's still not gone. Whatever. I've found this new soup recipe, though. It looks promising enough, doesn't it? I'll try to make it for dinner.”

RANPO admittedly is rather bad at taking care of you. To be blunt, he much prefers it when you coddle and spoil him, not the other way around, though he tries in his own ways — which mostly include sharing his snacks with you and being near you despite the risk of getting infected himself.

Unfortunately, you're not spared from his usual honesty; when you look downright awful, dark circles underneath your eyes, he will tell you just that. If you flake out on any dates the two of you had planned previously, he will whine, but at least he won't hold a grudge. While he's not particularly committed to being a caretaker, he at least stays by your side and brings you medicine and painkillers.

“You should eat more, y'know. Yes, I know you're nauseous. You've said so about twenty times already. You won't feel any better until you eat and drink enough, though. That's common sense.”

Naturally, FYODOR is more than simply good at taking care of you whenever you fall ill. With his age, it's no wonder that he has quite some experience and knows of many ways to heal you, though some of them might include disgusting homebrewed potions. You're best of just not asking what they're made of if you want to have any chance in downing them.

Unfortunately, his approach to helping you regain your health is more clinical than loving. He takes wonderful care of you, but he's not the type to cuddle with you and whisper sweet nothings in your ear while you're sneezing and coughing. If you ask sweetly enough, however, he might just read you a bedtime story or two.

“What is it, dear? I was just going to get you a new glass of water. .. Ah, I see. Do you really want me to stay that badly? Alright, then. Though me remaining by your side won't give you an excuse to skip taking your medication.”

It's no surprise whatsoever that NIKOLAI is not the most caring guy, simply put, and he might just tease you about being sick throughout the whole ordeal. He can't help it; you glaring at him, exhausted and sneezing, makes him giggle. Still, he's not all bad — he revels all the more in your surprised expression when he presents you with homemade soup, a family recipe, or so he tells you, and he smiles, content, when you admit that it tastes rather lovely.

With his ability, it's easy for him to get whatever you might need, whether that's food or a cup of tea or a bucket to throw up in, from the kitchen without moving from your bedside, so be prepared to spend quite a lot of time with him in the next few days — or weeks. Though, luckily, he's there to entertain you, not the other way around; when you say you want to curl up and just sleep the sickness off, he'll just keep watch next to you, silent and calm. After all, he does want you to feel better.

“Hmm, what did you say? You like my cooking? I'm honoured, doll! You're too kind! How about a quiz about what I put in there — poison, carrots, red beet, or all three? Ah, not feeling up for it, are you? What a shame. It's all three, if you're curious. I'm just kidding, of course. Don't you worry your pretty little head.”

SIGMA is the best choice for who to go to when ill. Not only is he kind and caring, he's also responsible and organised and, if you follow every step he tells you — eat his home-cooked soup, drink this medicine, sleep for as much as possible, take hot or cold compresses, inhale water with herbal essences —, you'll be at full health again in no time.

Even though he unfortunately can't stay at home all day to be by your side — duties at the casino call, even though he'd much rather not go —, he tries to spend as much time as possible with you, telling you about what has happened that day and how much he looked forward to being home with you again while your eyes flutter closed. When you've almost fallen asleep, his lips gently press against your forehead, even if that means he risks getting sick himself.

“Are you feeling better yet? No? Well, that's to be expected. It's only been a day, after all. I've brought you some more medicine, as well as some soup. Here, give it a taste, will you?”

@chxrry-doll @irethepotato @beandaifuku, @the-foreigner , @ranpobb, @arixsux, @dei-lilxc , @atsyushi @satoruislove @pastelsbaby @marina-and-the-memes @texchou @shiggysredhead @savagemickey03 @rosepxtlz @nikolaiswife @okura-s @ladykatakuri @lunerenzo @berywritesstuff @xelia25 @yuuotosaka3 @double-black-dazai @alice0blog @fyodorstolenushanka @ttaiyaki @itsnovariella @C4xcocoa

@black-rose-29 @fyodorscumsock @ayshaashaya @qxxstuff @serenareiss @atsvsh1 @dilucshandholder @reiikonee @1-800-mocha @xvocadooo @hexiisexii @cupxfcxffee @jodidann @Happymoon16 @yumidepain @nchuuyahq @janeinerz @Aaronthegreatestsimp @fanfiction-waifu @KimxKiba @Morigumy @villainouspotential @ashthemadwriter-uwu @mrsdostoevsky @nikolaisgoofyahhhat

@yeonwoomyheartbelongstoyou @hellgirlwhore @c4xcocoa @lyrstybsd @angelsrunes @wuaoqu @disa-ster @aspookyscaryghost @nikolaisboner @urgodmoon @polish-anon @arisu-chan4646nsfw @eroscastle @somnobun @birbysaur @senpaible @hyunlixie143 @dababyurmom @4nthonyyliving @brokeniced @nikolaisdove @dxwnstxr @scinclaitnoir @snips18 @flowzel @satohruu @squigglewigglewoo @rainy-dazie @itzashlyn123 @rheeeeeeeesiees @eggcoreloser @mariaace @mello0cat @warriordemigosworld @thescrunkly @ainegueneres @maroj23 @dazaiserectnips @little-miss-chaoss @saeandscaralover @munch3025 @maidenkikyo

[phyrestartr]

PR Stunt (Only, Right?) | Sukuna/M!Reader

W/C: 6.9K (oh god lol) #NSFW, fingering, implied fucking, bottom!reader, top!sukuna, angst, fluff, smut, happy ending, Sukuna owns a body shop, reader is an actor, kinda meet cute, ABO dynamics, mpreg, yes there are always babies involved because i love dad sukuna, surprise baby, sukuna is a dickhead (what else is new), Gojo is an actor, Getou is a manager/agent, Toji is a stunt coordinator, Jin is a teacher tags: @kamote-kuneho @better-imagination-9 @flowersatwork @watyousayin 

“Did you sleep with (L. Name) (F. Name)?” 

The question caught Sukuna off guard; normally, Uraume didn't inquire into his personal life in regards to who he had and hadn't slept with. They were a friend, yes, but moreover they were the bookkeeper and helped with securing clients and arranging meetings–celebrities and their managers were fucks that Sukuna didn't like negotiating with. Best to leave the yapping to someone with a cooler head.

“Where the hell did that come from?” Sukuna asked as he rolled out from under the newest commissioned vehicle. 

Uraume walked to him, iPad in hand, and turned it to him, stone cold. 

Sukuna sat up straighter and squinted at the screen, annoyed. You’d probably just made up some salacious rumour and spread it throughout your friend circles; or worse, you wanted revenge on him for something he probably definitely did. In that case, Sukuna could somewhat understand. But still–

(Name) putting on weight? What’s happening to the former bombshell babe of Japan?!

Pregnant with a baby boy?! The secret's out!

(Name) returns to the stage after giving birth to a baby boy–but who is the father?

(Name) driving a Ryoumen Sukuna rescue vehicle?! Could he be the deadbeat dad we've been looking for?

Sukuna sucked his teeth after skimming over the article titles presented to him. 

“...No proof.” 

“Ah. Then please explain this,” Uraume requested, still polite as ever, as they flicked to an additional few images the scumbag paparazzi had caught of you. 

One was the car mentioned. Sukuna remembered it like it was yesterday–the joy of restoring a Porsche 911 back into its former glory was unmatched. You happily paid for all the parts and too often swung by to see the progress being made on the old thing. Obviously, Sukuna was more than happy to oblige. 

The next was of you holding a little nugget of a baby against your chest as you walked down a street in Shibuya. Nothing too damning, nothing too inspirational. 

But the last one–

“The fuck?” Sukuna mumbled as he snatched the iPad from Uraume’s hands and zoomed in on the now-toddler sitting with you in that damn Porsche, grinning brightly beside his mum while you ruffled his hair. His very, very pink hair. 

Sukuna took a breath while he thought. He didn't have to think too hard, though, not when he still dreamed about you and the short-lived fling between the two of you. 

“A Porsche 911, huh?” Sukuna grinned as he looked over the rusted beater of a car. He could still see scraps of its former glory, of the beautiful thing she used to be. Heaven knows she would've become an irreparable hunk of junk if you hadn't bought it from a scrapyard. 

“Yep.” You beamed. “So you think you can make her pretty again?” 

“You kidding? I'd pay you to let me fix this thing, baby.” Sukuna caught sight of your security stepping forward, but you waved them off without a second thought. 

Sukuna smirked. “But it’s not gonna be cheap.” 

You nodded. “Well, do what you have to. I'll pay whatever you need, handsome.” 

“Yeah?” Sukuna asked, looking your neatly-manicured appearance up and down; you were dressed like you were meeting someone of great importance (and you were, obviously), with your hair groomed perfectly, outfit fit for a premiere, skin flawless. 

“Mhm. And I tip well.” you looked him up and down in kind, grinning as you bit at the nub of your sunglasses.

“Done.” 

Every time you came to check on his progress, genuine excitement flooding in your motormouthed words, you'd go home with him and fuck him silly. 

And now, you were the momma to his baby. Allegedly. 

“I–so what the fuck does this have to do with anything?” Sukuna ran a frustrated hand through his hair after Uraume took the tablet back. “Bitch isn't asking for anything, he's not asking me to be his public fucking baby daddy, not asking me to pay for nothing?” 

“No,” Uraume conceded, “But he and his PR managers have reached out concerning this.” 

The man groaned and stood. “Fucking hell. Can't stand fucking PR teams. The fuck did they want?” 

“They want to make a statement about Touma's father.” 

Sukuna froze.

“Touma's a good name for a boy, right?” 

You asked the question so suddenly, so out of nowhere in the quiet of the afterglow. The city lights sparkled and winked at you both through the towering windows keeping you safe from the outside world. In hindsight, Sukuna would wonder if the city was excited for him. For you. 

“What, for a mutt?” Sukuna drawled, puffing on a blunt while he played with your hair and drowned in the tingles left in the wake of fingers drawing circles on his bare chest. 

“For a kid,” you chastised with a laugh. “I like Touma. Or Touka for a girl. Ayato's nice, too. Maybe Kazue.” 

“You better not be pregnant.”

“I'm not, I'm not. I'm just getting baby fever, I guess.” You hummed and left a sweet kiss against his tan skin. “I guess being around a big, bad boy like you's got me feeling domestic.” 

Sukuna laughed, dazed and happy. “You wanna ruin this pretty lil’ body for a fucking kid? Be my guest. Just don't come looking for a booty call after you've ruined yourself like that.” 

“Oh, don't worry,” you cooed. “I won't.” 

Man. Man. 

“A statement.” 

“In other words–”

“I'm not the fucking father.” 

“This might be a good way to get Yorozu off your case,” Uraume suggested, and Sukuna perked up. 

“Right. She fuckin’ hates kids.” 

“So, if you were to have a son, and it's revealed you've been quietly trying to make things work behind the scenes with (Name), then hypothetically–”

“I'll take the runt.”

Truth is out–Ryoumen Sukuna is the father, (Name) tells fans on social media!

Sukuna hated seeing that shit. The circus celebrities had to dance through used to be funny until he somehow got swept up into it. Until he suddenly had a baby boy that looked so much like him and so much like you. 

He spent too much time on your socials, scrolling through promotion posts and photos of you at red carpet events and premieres–and then he remembered you had a private account. One that you said he could follow. One that he never followed.

Sukuna rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling as he sulked in bed. Was he really about to sacrifice his pride for this? Was he seriously gonna request to follow your personal account just moments after articles dropped and tweets were sent about him being the baby daddy? Could his pride take it? 

Fuck me. This shit is highschool. 

He requested to follow, and not even a minute later, you approved it. 

That had him interested. Did you want him to follow? Did you want him to be part of his little guy's life? Were you feeling a rush of anxiety and excitement like he was right now? 

“Get over it, you fucking idiot,” he mumbled to himself before scrolling through your photos. 

There was so much more here. So many photos of you pregnant, of Touma when he was so ridiculously itty bitty, of when you were recovering in the hospital, looking worn out and exhausted, but still beaming as you held your little boy. 

There were photos of his first birthday and the cute…rustic cake you'd apparently made yourself. Your agent, Getou, was there, as was one of your fellow agency mates, Gojo, along with some other folks Sukuna did and didn't recognize. 

Of course, his boy–your boy lit up the centre, eyes glittering with the reflection of sparklers and the warmth of a good, safe home. He was happy. The boy–his boy–your boy was happy. 

Then he called you. He couldn't help it, not anymore.

Sukuna paced around his penthouse, sipping on his spiked coffee and trying to desperately control his…nerves? Alpha instincts? Excitement? Fuck, he didn't know. But he was full of whatever it was, and it drove him nuts.

“Hi!” You answered as you picked up, so full of life as usual. “Been a while. How're you? What's up?” 

Sukuna felt so, so old suddenly. Why were you so awake in the morning? 

“Think you can spare some of that pep in your step for me?” Sukuna asked. He smiled when he heard you laugh on the other line. “Dunno how the hell you're so awake in the morning.”

“Well, I don't party or work on cars until the crack of dawn,” you purred back, so sweet and teasing. Sukuna almost got hard. Ugh. Ugh. What the fuck was wrong with him? 

“Hah? What, you sayin’ I'm irresponsible ‘n make shitty choices, babe?” 

“Absolutely.” 

“Tch. Omegas.” 

You snickered again before cutting to the chase: “So, you're calling about my Touma?”

Sukuna swallowed. “Yeah. Gotta say I'm pretty fucking confused.”

“Yeah, I get it.” He heard you shift in bed, triggering a rumble of grumpy noises from your little one. You hushed him gently and apologized before the small, crackly purring resumed faintly in the background. The thought made Sukuna's heart ache.

“What do you wanna know?” 

Sukuna inhaled deeply. “Why'd you keep it?” 

“I wanted him,” you said. “Next question.”

“...When did you know?” 

“Mmh…I guess about a week or two after we stopped hooking up.”

“And you didn't say shit?” 

You went silent for a moment, and Sukuna felt his nerves tingle and prick. He wasn't anxious. He wasn't feeling betrayed. It wasn't any of that. Absolutely not. 

“I guess I got cold feet,” you admitted. “I don't--I know how many baby daddy accusations you get, y'know? I didn't want you to think I was just trying to get you to pay me out or something.” 

Oh. Okay. That made sense, actually. 

Too many omegas and women Sukuna fucked around with pointed the finger at him if they caught some sort of STI or fell pregnant; even if it was months after fucking, Sukuna would be suspected of fathering the pregnancy of a newly-pregnant, ex-partner he hadn't seen in eternities, and the media would run to the ends of the earth with it. He was the infamous bad boy the media circuit loved to prey on. And Sukuna didn't really care for it–not until now. Not until those fucks ruined his opportunity to be a dad. 

“Fucking–” Sukuna sighed and put his mug down to rub his face. “Shit. Shit. Fucking media bastards. Fuck.”

“I need to get my car tuned,” you said.

Sukuna deadpanned. “Read the fucking room, babe, we're not–”

“Do you want me to bring Touma?” You finished, undeterred by the alpha's grouchiness. “So you can meet him? I think he'd like that.”

Oh. Oh. Ouch. His heart–was Sukuna about to die? Why'd his chest hurt so much? What the fuck? 

Sukuna cleared his throat and ran a hand through his hair. “I–yeah? Yeah. Alright.” 

“Okay, cool. When's your next–” 

“Tomorrow.” He cleared his throat again and scratched at the back of his neck. “Any time.” 

You stifled a laugh poorly. “Don’t be nervous, Sukuna.” 

“M'not. Fuck you.” 

“I can do tomorrow. Let's saaay…1pm?” 

“Yeah, sure. 1pm.”

You rolled up at 12:59pm. 

Sukuna had the garage open, everything tidy and ready to go like he actually gave a fuck about tuning your car when his literal fucking son was about to be in his presence. But he was so not nervous. Definitely not fucking nervous. Nope. Nuh-uh. Never. 

You stepped out of the car and Sukuna felt his heart jump; you looked the same as you did last time he saw you. You were dressed more casually, though, done up in joggers and runners with a university hoodie to top it all off. Clearly, you didn't care to impress today. 

You threw Sukuna an easy smile before pulling open the back door and taking care in plucking your chubby bunny from his car seat. All the while, Sukuna wandered closer and closer, but maintained a respectful distance just in case your momma bear came out to bite. He knew you had an impressive temper when your easy-going self got pushed too far, and he would rather not bring that out right now. 

“Pa!” Your son yipped as soon as he got up into your arms. “Puh Pa!” 

You melted immediately, punching Sukuna in the gut with your happy scent of maple syrup and cardamom as the little one nuzzled up to you, repeating variants of “pa!” as he rubbed his chubby cheeks and snotty nose against your neck and face to get that perfect scent onto him. 

“You're so sweet, bunny,” you cooed and adjusted him in your arms as you met Sukuna the rest of the way. “Hey, hey! So, did you want to meet him first, or–?” 

Sukuna didn't know what the fuck to do, honestly. 

“I, uh. Car shit first. What needs tuning?” He drawled, watching the pup clinging to you with rapt attention. 

Admittedly, Sukuna didn't really pay attention to what you were saying and what you were gesturing to; he was too captivated by the faint wisps of scent he caught from your little one. He smelled of smoke and syrup–a perfect combination of his parents’ scents. 

And he just looked so much like the both of you. Touma's skin tone tilted more your direction, but the glowy, bronzey quality that Sukuna brought to the table still shone through in its own weird way. His eyes were almond-shaped like his own, but bore the same, welcoming colour of yours. And, fuck, his hair was just a perfect match to Sukuna's. If the little shit got Maori tattoos too, he'd be a tiny carbon copy. 

Damn. Speaking of–would his mom wanna meet the little shit? Her grandson? Would she ever bother leaving Hawaii to–

“You get all that?” You asked. 

Sukuna stared at you. “Get what?” 

You pursed your lips like you so often did and turned to the big, bad alpha. 

“Maybe we should do the meet ‘n greet first, huh?” You swayed a little and kissed Touma awake. “Baby, you wanna meet a friend?” 

“Buh!” Touma exclaimed. You gently guided his little face to look at Sukuna, and the boy looked star struck staring up at the absolute unit that was Ryoumen Sukuna. 

“Touma, this is Sukuna.” You closed the gap between the two of you a little more, and Sukuna leaned down to look at the little one. His little one. 

Sukuna twitched a smile as he looked over the little thing. “You sure this thing’s mine? Looks a little small.” 

You laughed. “If you were born as big as you are, I’m so, so sorry for your mother.” You nuzzled Touma’s little cheek and bounced him a little. 

“Wuh!” Touma’s little arms flew up towards Sukuna, and the towering man looked a little more than nervous, looking at the tiny pudgy hands like they were deadly weapons. 

“Come on, don’t look at him like that.” You took Sukuna’s hand and delivered it to Touma. “He’s curious. He hasn’t met anyone as big and tall as you, y’know?” 

Sukuna huffed, but let the little one grab at his fingers and hold his hand. “What, you don’t have another alpha looking after you? Hard to believe that. You're the neediest little bitch I know.” 

“Stop. I'm not Yorozu,” you huffed, and Sukuna cringed at the name. “He has alphas around, sure. But not big ones like you–security excluded. It's not like other men want to play nice with another alpha's pup.” 

Sukuna caught the hint of a frown on your face, and his hackles started to rise. 

“Some dumbfuck giving you grief?” Sukuna asked, voice rolling with thunderous promise. He'd kill whatever moron fucked with you and his pup. You just had to drop the name.

You sighed, light-hearted. “You know what the rich and famous are like--we're the worst.” 

Sukuna growled, and Touma mimicked the noise as best as he could with his pathetically teeny tiny crackled voice. Fuckin’ cute as shit. 

“Tch. Don't sell yourself short.” 

“I'm just trying to say I don't need that around my boy, and I sure as hell don't want it around me, either.” You nodded and stepped closer as Touma reached up for Sukuna again. Apparently just holding his hand wasn't doing it for the boy anymore. 

“Good. Don't need those pathetic fucks around the runt–oi, wait, what the fuck're you–” 

“Wup, wup!” Your son shrieked as you helped bully Sukuna into holding him.

“He wants uppies.” 

“Uppies,” Sukuna balked.

“He wants you to–okay, you're bad at this–don't hold him like that! Here, do it like–” you cut off as you helped Sukuna get a comfortable hold on Touma while the littlest one squirmed and squeaked in delight, trying to climb up onto Sukuna's shoulder but failing miserably. 

Sukuna twitched a smile as you sighed, exasperated by the ball of energy trying to scale the mountainous man. But he got a hold of him, tucking his arm under his butt and holding his back to make sure the little shit didn't go plummeting to the floor. 

“You give your ma hell, huh? I can get behind that,” Sukuna hummed. His son's little hands papped at his face, grabbing at his nose and jaw–specifically over the dark tattoos streaking along the curves and cut of his features. 

And you smiled the entire time. You pursed your lips tightly to hide it, but you did it so poorly. You always did. Maybe it was on purpose. 

“So, can I tell you about my car problems now?” 

Sukuna held onto his runt while you explained what flaws, either cosmetically or mechanically, were bothering you. It mostly consisted of slight dents from other assholes not knowing how to park, paint scratches, and more of that sort. As a fellow car guy, Sukuna could understand the anguish of having a favourite baby get all dinged up. 

“Not hard to fix,” Sukuna decided. He held the hood up with one hand and looked over the motor–everything looked clean and well-maintained. He was almost impressed. “But, well, it'll cost ya. Uraume can send the details.” 

You nodded. “Sure, sure, sounds good. I'm never taking this thing on the road again after it's fixed. Too many fucking idiots out there with piss poor driving skills.” 

The mechanic smirked. “Ho? So beating up your car is what makes you start cussin’, huh? Noted.” He let the hood fall closed and adjusted his hold on the now-sleeping tot. “Couldn't even get you to do that in bed.” 

“Psht, don't say that in front of the baby, Sukuna, jeeze,” you sighed and rubbed your face. “Babies remember more than you'd like to know.” 

“Huh. You think he'll remember when he got–” 

“No, he won't remember his inception.” You laughed and shook your head, but paused when you saw smears of concealer on your fingers and tutted. 

“How long's the car gonna take? Should I get a rental?” You asked before the man could comment.

“Probably, if you want me to detail this thing right,” Sukuna mumbled. He reached out and turned your chin back to him, looking at the spots concealer missing, hinting at dark circles under your eyes. 

Your face grew hot, but you nodded and cleared your throat. “Yeah, okay. I'll, uh. I'll call someone to pick us up–” 

“I'll take you home.” 

You brightened the slightest bit. “Yeah? I–okay.” You pulled his hand from your face and smiled. “I'll grab the car seat.” 

Sukuna liked your house. It was a nice mix of traditional and modern with large stretches of woodgrain and bamboo. A neat outdoor garden and pond decorated the front, but a bigger, more lush collection of tropical plants greeted guests. It was beautiful, if one was desperate to be in nature. 

“I'm just gonna get him to bed, be one second.” 

Sukuna nodded and pocketed his hands as he pretended to not watch you trot upstairs with the sleepy cub melting in your arms. You still had a nice ass even after popping that little melon out. Huh. 

He looked around your space more, wandering with slow, lumbering steps. The house wasn't huge by any means, but it was cozy and warm, quiet and hidden away from the city's gaze. That was probably why you chose it–here, you could be honest with yourself. You could shield your babe from the brutality of your career and keep him safe from leering eyes. Honestly, one of the leaves on your giant monstera could hide him from the whole universe. 

Guy's too obsessed with growing shit. It ticked him off, but he didn't know why. 

Maybe it was all the photos of you and Touma. Maybe it was because he wasn't in them and too many other men were in his place, lining your walls in the protection of cheap IKEA frames–but Sukuna didn't want you. No, no, Ryoumen Sukuna did not want anyone. He didn't want you. He didn't need to settle down and–

“You want a glass of wine?” You asked when you came back down the stairs. “It's plum wine. Don't really have any scotch or anything, but I–” 

Sukuna scoffed before a mocking laugh slipped out of him. You paused, looking at him with bleak attention as he shook his head and pocketed his hands. Your request for him to stay pissed him off; clearly, you expected something more from him.

“Whaddaya think is gonna happen here, huh? You think we're gonna fall in love, pick up where we left off, have a happy little fuckin’ family to tell the tabloids about?” 

“What?” You asked. “I never–”

“Didn't have to. Gotta admit, you did a better job than the rest of the whores that tried wrangling me in to–”

“All I asked,” you cut him off, voice quiet but firm, “Is if you wanted wine. I’m not proposing, Sukuna.” 

Sukuna didn’t like that. The whole…not-being-into-him and not wanting him to stick around after he just shut you down. He sucked his teeth and took a breath, about to say something, but you spoke first. 

“I know this is a PR thing. I know how the whole media circus works–you want your ex to stop bothering you, and I want people to stop asking questions about who the fucking father of my son is.” You paused, staring Sukuna dead in his eyes, a quiet, simmering rage boiling just beneath the surface of placid control. 

“Call my manager when the car’s done,” you decided, sounding beaten down and exhausted. “I’ll send someone for it. Thanks for the ride home.”

Next thing the man knew, he was ushered toward the door and stood in the doorway, stuck on the idea of being kicked out of his omega’s–no, no, out of an omega’s house like he was trash. 

“Fucking–wait, just–” 

“What?” You snapped.

“I could–glass of wine doesn’t sound too bad–”

You shoved the bottle into his hands and slammed the door. 

Sukuna tried to sleep it off–as in, he slept around to forget about the crushing weight of rejection collapsing down on him, shattering his chest, spearing his heart with shattered bone. 

You still kept being so fucking nice to him, too. You never slandered him, never spoke ill whenever he was asked about in interviews–you spared his reputation with a kind smile every time you had to talk about him or to him. 

And he was grateful for it, even if he didn't return the favor. It's not like he was on a smear campaign, no, but anytime a hook up would ask about you, he wouldn't give a glowing review, per se. But it wouldn't be scalding either. Just sheer indifference tainted with drops of bitterness stemming from unripe guilt.

It went on like that for months–until you did your parental duties, and set aside your feelings about Sukuna for the sake of your son.

“Uraume, get that,” Sukuna called as his phone rang. He was too busy fucking around under the hood of his latest project to wipe his hands free of grease and pick up himself, obviously.

But Uraume was there for a reason. They picked up the phone with a polite hello before their sharp frigidity melted into rounded edges. 

“(Name)-san,” they hummed. “It's good to hear from you. Do you need to talk to Sukuna-san?” 

Sukuna started wiping his hands off so unbelievably fast. 

“He's working on a car right now. You know how he can be when he's focused.”

“Fucking–piece of shit–what the fuck–” somehow, he got even more grease and oil on his hands thanks to that stupid fucking rag. God, what a nightmare.

“Sure, I can take a message.” 

“Fuckin’ shit fuck, fuck.” He wiped his hands on his designer jeans before running to Uraume and gesturing for the phone.

Uraume's brows raised, and they actually smiled. 

“Ah, hold on, Sukuna-san's here.” 

Sukuna snatched up the phone, ignoring the knowing look glimmering in Uraume’s eyes. Ugh. Ugh. Betas.

“Hey,” Sukuna said after clearing his throat. 

“Hey! Ume said you were working on a car? You didn't have to stop to talk.” 

“Yeah, well.” Sukuna shrugged to himself and kicked a scrapped car part, sending it skittering across the ground and clanking into other parts. Jesus, when did his shop get so messy? “Needed a break anyway.” 

“Ah. You work too hard, you need to take breaks more often,” you laughed sweetly. “So, listen, Touma's birthday's coming up–”

“Shit, seriously?” Sukuna grinned and kicked another chopped part. “Fuck. How old's the little shit turning?” 

“Two! He's growing up so fast, I wish I could slow down time and–” you paused and laughed, suddenly sounding unsure and a bit nervous. “Sorry, sorry, was about to go on a tangent. Anyway, there is a little get-together, but you don't have to come. Satoru and Toji'll be there. But your brother and his son'll be there, too, so it won't suck completely.

“Otherwise, if you want to come see him earlier or something, that's fine, and–and you're not cutting me off and I didn't think I'd get this far so I'm losing the plot.” 

Sukuna huffed. “What, you don't want me to fuckin’ listen, huh?” 

“I know you will since I have such a pretty voice, but I'm surprised you're being a good boy for once.” 

The mechanic rolled his eyes and rubbed his face. Who knows if it was to wipe away embarrassment or fatigue. 

“You’re exhausting.” 

“And you’re a dick.” There was a special brand of teasing bitterness behind those words, but the vibes were balanced perfectly; seemed you were still cranky about what he said, but you were willing to let it slide.

Sukuna chuckled, relaxing the slightest bit. “Alright. I don't know what the fuck kids like at that age, but I'll figure somethin’ out. I can at least show up Jin.” 

“Wow.” 

“Text me time and place. I'll be there.” After a moment, he added, “I’ll bring some plum wine. Fancy shit.”

The hidden rumble of a purr snuck its way out from your side, and Sukuna did everything he could to suppress his alpha's reciprocation.

“Sounds good. See you then, Sukuna.”

Toji answered the door. 

“Hah. Why the hell are you here?” The fuckhead ex-Zenin asked with a stupid, shitty smirk on his dumbass face. 

Sukuna strained not to throw the first punch. He really shouldn't murder someone at his--your son's birthday party. Murder is bad. Murder is bad. 

“Fuck you.” Hey, at least it wasn't murder. “‘M here for my fucking kid.” 

Toji crossed his arms and suddenly looked beyond bored as he leaned against the doorframe. 

“Your kid? You mean (Name)’s kid?” He wondered, putting on a show of thinking. “Weird.”

“You're one to talk. You forgetting what you did to your own brat? You fuckin’--”

“Sukuna!” Your sweet voice called, instantly changing the atmosphere. “Glad you came. Do you–oi, Toji, move, stop bodyguarding. You're not a bouncer.”

“Eh?” Toji stayed in his spot as you smacked at his arm and tried to push him away. “I'm just standing here. Not bodyguarding. Minding my business.” 

“You’re so full of shit.” You wheezed and squeaked as the man suddenly gave way, nearly making you crash into him and plummet to the floor. But you caught yourself and hissed at the dark-haired menace until he whistled innocently and waltzed away. 

“Fucking--why’s he here again?” Sukuna grumbled as you let him in. He leaned down to nose at your cheek with a grumpy, quiet grunt--typical greeting procedures for an interested individual or bonded pair. But the way you choked on whatever you were about to say meant he must've caught you off guard. 

“He's uh–we work together. We've worked together? He was the stunt coordinator for some movies I've been in.” You cleared your throat and took the present bag from Sukuna to place with the others. “And I babysit Gumi sometimes.” 

“Gumi? What the fuck is a Gumi?” 

“Megumi? His son?” Oh. Oh. “I babysit Yuuji too, so. Thick as thieves, y'know?” 

Sukuna nodded a little, thinking hard on the lore. He liked that Yuuji was taken care of by you, but surely that wretched Gumi could go somewhere else. Toji was probably just leeching off of you. 

“Oi, Momma, get in here,” Toji crowed from wherever all the baby giggles and excitement bubbled from in the house. “Your boys need some maternal guidance–” 

“Toji, don't make it weird!” Jin whisper-yelled before going on a long-winded rant about this and that, about proper behaviour and attitudes in front of children (not that the kids were paying attention to anything Toji did). 

You gave Sukuna a tired smile. “Come on. It won’t be that bad, I promise.”

Sukuna sighed, but let you drag him to his demise, bottle of wine in-hand.

But it wasn’t that bad. Not really. 

Your other boys, Gojo Satoru and Getou Suguru, showed up and showered tiny Touma with way too much praise and far too many gifts, but the little shit looked so pleased that Sukuna couldn’t get too annoyed. Shoko and Uraume came by, too, much to Sukuna’s surprise. Uraume brought with them a whole fucking confectionary cake they’d crafted themselves at home. Gojo obsessed over it and Getou tried to reign him in to no avail. 

And the night went on. No one talked shit, not unless it was in good fun, no one got fucking hammered, no one talked about work–it was all about the kids. Nothing else. No one else. 

Sukuna could never guess just how far that truth went.

When everyone left for the night, the alpha could start to see the edges of your smile fraying. But you held on, thanking everyone for the gifts and for showing up for Touma, and especially thanking Jin for offering to let all the little ones spend the night at his place (you and Toji would forever be in his debt). 

Then, when the door closed and all fell silent, he heard you cry. 

Sukuna didn't know what to do about people crying. He never had. Even when he was a kid, he had a hard time trying to comfort people with hugs and words of reassurance–he just couldn't do it. 

“It's okay,” he heard you whisper. “It's okay. It's okay. You're okay. It's okay. I'm okay.” 

Sukuna got up and leaned against the doorway to the kitchen. “Sure about that?”

You jumped and clasped a hand over your mouth to stifle your scream. Sukuna barked out an ugly, reedy laugh while he defended himself from your petty smacks and pinches. 

“You scared the fuck out of me–why're you still even here? Go home! Shoo!” You wiped your eyes once you were done harassing him and turned away, busying yourself with cleaning up dishes and wrapping paper left in the aftermath. 

Sukuna followed you idly, a shit-eating grin still plastered on his face. What could he say? He loved seeing you get all petty and riled up. But he didn't love seeing you cry. He didn't love seeing you try to stealthily wipe tears away, to try and steady your shaky breathing. 

“What’s going on with you, babe?” Sukuna asked as he settled beside you at the sink. 

“It's nothing,” you said with a snuffle. “It's seriously nothing. Sorry, I--you don't need to stay. Or anything.” You sighed and rubbed at your eyes with your sleeve. “You've done your fatherly duties. You're free to leave.” 

“Yeah? ‘N what about my baby daddy duties?” He wondered, voice so horribly low and comforting, like the buzzing crackle of a campfire. 

You laughed, watery and shaky. “You already did everything you needed to, Sukuna.” 

“Come on, don't cockblock me like that.” He gently tilted your Chin his way to catch your eyes just like he had back at the shop all those months ago. “Look at me.” 

You did. Your eyes were red and irritated, whatever pretty boy make up you wore was wiped off and smudged, and those heavy, dark bags met the light in front of someone else for the first time in a long time. 

You still had the gall to laugh it off and pull Sukuna's hand from your face with a small, “I'm fine,” though. 

“Then why the hell are you crying?” He asked. 

You squeezed his hand with both of yours. “Things are just…hard. Overwhelming.”

Sukuna nodded a bit. “That why Jin took the runts tonight?” 

“Yeah. Needed some time, I guess.” You snuffled and wiped your face with both hands before finishing up with cleaning. “Makes me sound like a shit parent, I know.” 

Sukuna couldn’t disagree more. “Least you're not flipping out on the kid. That'd be way shittier, yeah?” 

“I don't know. I guess, but–yeah. I don't know.” 

Sukuna sighed and scooped you up like a new bride. “You're driving me fucking mental.”

“Sukuna–!”

“Quiet.” Your omega indeed piped down at the grouchy command, and you shyly let the man carry you up the steps to find your bedroom. “You're getting some damn rest. You look like shit.” 

You grumbled something Sukuna elected to ignore in favour of tossing you onto a bed the way one might lob a stone into a pond. You landed with a warbled squawk and looked at Sukuna with horribly accusatory, baffled eyes. 

Sukuna quirked a brow as he looked down on you, gladly using his broad build and tall stature to secure your submission. And it worked; the aggravated spark in your eyes curled up and fell silent after a few long seconds. Your head lowered just the slightest bit, too, but your passive gaze remained stuck on him, waiting for his next move. 

“Fine,” you grumbled. 

Sukuna raised his brows and eased onto the bed, caging you underneath him with his solid frame. Your scent flickered with shy playfulness, and Sukuna relished in it. 

“How do I know you're gonna obey, omega?” 

“I guess you don't. Not for certain,” you admitted begrudgingly. 

“Tch. Someone's gotta keep you accountable then, huh?” He nosed at your neck, nearly letting his lips touch your neck but refusing to do so in the same instance. “Make sure you're doing the right thing, make sure you're behaving.” 

One of his hands squeezed at your soft thigh before inching up little by little. Your hands found themselves in his hair as he teased at your joggers’ waistband, pulling the elastic taut before letting it go. 

“Sukuna,” you laughed, sounding a little breathless. “I, uh–I thought you said–”

“Changed my mind.”

“But–”

“Forget what I said and let me make you cum on my fingers, brat.” 

Oh. Well, hard to argue against that. 

You swallowed but gave a meek nod. He ripped your bottoms off and felt up your blazing skin with rough, calloused hands, groping and grabbing in the same spots he liked back when you were hooking up: your thighs, your hip bones, the squish of your stomach. As much as the man harped on about not wanting “damaged goods,” he sure worshiped your body like it was brand new, untouched. 

Sukuna brought his fingers to your mouth, and you took them with utmost compliance. Your tongue worked against his digits thoughtfully and thoroughly for your own sake–a lack of starter lube wouldn't end well, after all. And Sukuna was not the most patient man in the sack.

“See?” Sukuna crowed into your ear as his hand traveled south and a finger sunk into you. “It's not so bad to just behave, now is it?” 

You already felt like you were about to explode, and Sukuna savoured It. He liked being the one to do this to you–the only one for a while, considering how tight and sensitive you were. Any little push or prod inside you brought sweet sighs and soft moans to the surface–and a second and third finger had your hips bucking and your nails digging into his shoulder and back as he finger-fucked you to oblivion while still caging you in. 

“Good omega,” he cooed. “Gonna cum already, huh? Tch, you shoulda said no one’s been taking care of you; I would’ve taken my parental responsibilities more seriously.” His lips and teeth landed on your neck, as you curled up into him, body tensing, heels digging into the mattress, panting and gasping getting louder and faster. The sound made his pants strain even more. 

“Fuck, you smell fucking good. Better than when I fucked you the first time.” 

“I-I forgot you talked so much in bed,” you managed out. “Could you just–shut up?”

Sukuna growled, and you whined. “You want me to shut up, huh? You wanna listen to your slick fucking hole getting spread open, plowed into? You miss me that much, omega?”

“No.” You hissed and clung to his upper arm as he somehow managed to take it up a notch, slipping his fourth finger in and spreading you obscenely wide. 

“I think you did. Think you were hopin’ I’d come around, plow you into the bed again, stuff you full like no one else can.” 

“Sukuna–”

“I’ll fill this hole up all you want, baby–I’ll even stuff another pup in you. Twins. You want that, huh? You gonna be my omega from now on? Creaming on my cock ‘n fingers the way you shoulda been the day you walked your perfect, little ass into my life?” 

“Shut up, shut up, shut up–” you choked on a gasp and bit into his shoulder, soaking his shirt with drool and shuddered mewls while your body tightened and ecstasy hit like the weight of Sukuna’s words–brutal, fast, honest. 

Sukuna moaned in sympathy, ignoring the way his hand and arm cramped and ached to keep pistoning into you and draw out your high. He couldn't help it–something about you drove him mad in that moment. It could have been how you made his ego swell, it might've been the way his greed needed your slick staining his and only his skin, perhaps it could have been a quiet yearning coming from his lonely, hollow alpha. He didn't know. But he didn't question it. 

Your body started to relax with the death grip you had on his shoulder as you came down from the sudden, electric high. Your hips still jolted with every slow, lazy push into your soft hole, though a haze of purring and cooing filled the spot where gasps and moans once did. Eventually, you melted off of him and collapsed onto your back, looking as content as a cat lounging in the sun. 

“Oi, oi, you're not done yet, sweetheart.” But if you said you were done, he might've listened. Just that once. 

You hummed something as you looked up at him, eyes doey and so egregiously lovey-dovey. 

“That's a nice face. Make sure you save it just for me,” Sukuna gently commanded, and you laughed. 

“Demanding. I thought you didn't like used goods.” 

Sukuna scowled. “Shut up.” His free hand traced the stripes of stretched skin left in the wake of bearing his baby boy. “I like ‘em when they're used by me.”

“Does that really make them ‘used goods,’ then?” You murmured as if speaking logic too loud would break Sukuna's entranced obsession of you. 

But maybe, maybe, you had a point. 

“Guess I'll have to think on that.” His fingers slipped out of you and he gave you a wet slap on the ass to wake you up. Your subsequent squeak sure as hell woke Sukuna up. 

“Ow. Gross.” 

“I'm not finished with you, brat. Don't get too fuckin’ content, yeah?” He smirked when you glanced at his crotch expectantly. “You want me to fuck you?”

“Please.”

Sukuna sighed and settled between your legs as he futzed with his belt and button. “Could put up a bit of a fight.” 

“Too tired.” You yawned and stretched with a pleased sigh. “No will to argue.” 

The alpha leaned down to bite at your knee, and you pulled your legs together to avoid his chunky, rude fangs. You knew he'd delight in making you bleed or leaving dark bruises. He was the worst. 

“Still got a little fight left in ya,” Sukuna said with a grin. “Let's see how much more we can find, hm?”

[imagines-for-the-fangirls-soul]

The Prince - Chapter Six

A/N: Hello hello! Here I am with more pain for you, my friends! Thank you, thank you, thank you for all your support on this fic! We are over halfway done with the story and I hope you all stick it out until the end. As always, keep the likes, reblogs, and comments coming, and let me know if you would like to be tagged in future chapters!

Pairing: Jacaerys Velaryon x Reader Word Count: 4.3k Synopsis: Jace and the reader bask in the glow of finally acting on their feelings, only for that light to be stomped out as Jeyne arrives in King's Landing and Baela learns of their relationship.

Tag List: Hi all, it seems like the taglist is being wonky (thanks tumblr) so instead of tagging you all here, I'll tag you in the comments, that way I know it actually gives you the notification!

Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

Jace awakes early that next morning, his first thoughts immediately of you. As he dresses for the day, he is thinking only of ways to steal a moment alone with you, and what he’ll do when he does. He passes one of the servants on his way out the door, foregoing the breakfast they are bringing in.

He moves down the hallway quickly, no particular plan in mind, except to run into you somehow. However, when he turns down the next hallway from his own, it’s not your face he sees, but his mother’s.

“Jace,” she says with a smile, “You’re up early.”

“Yes,” he says, stopping in front of her. She brushes a hand to his cheek, studying his face for a moment.

“Any particular reason for your early morning?” she asks. The look in her eye says that she suspects but is giving him the opportunity to deny the events of last night.

“Just eager to start the day,” he says with a half-smile. She nods her head, completely disbelieving him.

“I’ve given thought to your request,” she says, taking his arm in hers. He walks in pace with her, towards her council chambers. “I want to give you my blessing, Jace. You have proven yourself time and again, especially during the war, to be a perfect heir. You deserve to be happy,” she says, looking at him.

“So why can’t you?” he asks.

“Baela,” she says simply.

“Our family is already well connected with the Velaryons, through your marriage to Daemon,” he says, “What advantage to our line is there if we marry?”

“She fought alongside me as well,” Rhaenyra says. “She expects to be queen. She's earned it.”

“I know,” Jace says on a sigh.

“I can’t in good conscience cut her out like that,” she says. They fall into silence for a moment as they near the council door. “Has something happened, Jace?” she asks. “You seem . . . changed.”

“I am,” he says with a smile. She searches his face with a furrowed brow.

“I will keep considering it,” she says, “I don’t want to hurt you, or Baela. I am afraid that whichever way I chose, I am heading towards that path, anyhow.”

“Baela doesn’t want to marry me either,” he says. Rhaenyra gives him a disbelieving look. “Really. She feels the same as me.”

“If that’s the case, I will happily relieve you of this betrothal. But I wouldn’t get your hopes up, Jace,” she says, “Baela would be giving up the crown, not just you.”

“What are you smiling about?” Joffrey asks.

“What?”

“You’re smiling,” he says, gesturing towards the wall you had been staring at. “At nothing.”

“Sorry,” you say, averting your gaze from him, and back to the book in front of you. Joffrey had requested your aid in helping him learn about his future seat, Driftmark. You have maybe read a page, so distracted are your thoughts.

“Did something happen?” he asks, leaning in closer. His eyes meet yours. “With Jace?”

“What?” you ask quick, shaking your head. “Of course not.”

“Your blush says otherwise,” Joffrey says.

“Why are we talking about me at all?” you ask, “I thought we were learning about . . .” You glance down at the book in front of you, picking the first word you read, “High Tide.”

“Tell me what you know about the building of High Tide,” Joffrey says, a smug look on his face. You open your mouth, planning to bullshit your way through an answer, but Joffrey starts laughing. You roll your eyes, trying to hide your own smile.

“Just tell me what happened,” he says.

“Nothing happened!” you say, a bit too loudly. You both peer around the library, making sure no one turned their attention to the two of you. When you’re sure they haven’t, you say again, “Nothing happened.”

“I’ll pretend to believe you,” Joffrey says, sitting back in his chair. For the next ten minutes, you sit in quiet, actually reading the words in front of you, just to ensure that Joffrey can’t catch you daydreaming again. He is the first to break the silence.

“Hello, brother,” he says. You exhale through your nose, not lifting your head.

“Not funny, Joff,” you mutter.

“Good day, Y/N.” You lift your head, a blush already forming across your cheeks, as you see Jacaerys standing next to you.

“Your Highness,” you say breathlessly. Jace has a smile on his face that he seems to be trying to hide. Joffrey looks between the two of you, a giddy look spreading across his face.

“Right,” he says, looking to you, “Nothing happened.” You glare at him, but Jace only laughs at his brother.

“What brings you to the library, brother?” Joffrey asks.

“I wanted to see how your studies are going,” Jace says with a shrug.

“I am here every day,” Joffrey says, “You’ve never once come to check upon me.”

“Well then, all the better I’m here now,” Jace says, his hand nervously clutching the pommel of his sword.

“Lady Y/N could tell you better than I,” Joffrey says, “She’s just read up on the forming of High Tide.” Their attention turns to you, and all you can do is glare daggers at Joffrey.

“I regret ever offering to help you,” you say, flipping the page back to High Tide.

“As do I,” he says, “You’ve been of no help.”

“You’re right,” you say, closing the book, “I’ve been a distraction.”

“You have,” he says, smirking, “But really, I think it’s more my brother’s fault than your own.”

“Joff,” Jace warns.

“You both should probably leave and attend to other matters,” he says with a wave of his hand. You are equally annoyed and enamored to him. He can clearly see that something has changed, and although he is being a jerk, it is for the two of you.

“Good luck with your studies, My Prince,” you say, standing. Jace is suddenly so much closer than you realized, and you both take a step back quickly. Joffrey lets out a tut of laughter.

“Can you put these back?” he asks, gesturing to the books littering the table. “I’m sure Jace would be happy to help you.” You exchange a look with Jace that sends dragon fire to you.

“You are incorrigible,” you mutter to Joffrey, picking up all the books. “I don’t really need your help, Your Highness,” you say to Jace. He gives you a small smile and nods.

“I’d like to help, nonetheless. At the very least to show you that not all the princes are as horrible as this one,” he says, glaring at Joffrey. The younger boy just smiles.

Jace follows you down the long hallway in between the stacks. You keep your back ramrod straight, as if just his close proximity sends a chill over you. You turn down the aisle where the books initially came from, and Jace takes the books from you seamlessly. One by one, you put them back in their respective spaces.

“What was he on about?” Jace asks quietly.

“Just being insufferable,” you say with a smirk.

“About what though?” he asks, a smile on his face to match your own. You look down for a moment, laughing to yourself. Jace takes your hand in his own, drawing your eyes up to his.

“He thought something might have happened between us,” you whisper, the smile never leaving your face.

“I see.”

“Obviously, I told him he was imagining things.”

“Is he?” Jace asks, a playful look on his face. Slowly, he leans in closer, his lips just brushing against yours. You sigh into the kiss, into the taste of him that you have craved since last night. A hand to his shirt, you pull him into you. Jace grips your waist, smiling against your mouth as he presses you into the stack of books.

At that moment, the library becomes your new favorite spot in the castle. Secluded in the rows of books, no one hears the slight whimper you make when Jace kisses along your neck. The shelves are so abandoned, the sound of Jace’s frustration when you break away from him, your teeth pulling on his lower lip as you do, is heard only by you. He lets out a breath, laughing softly.

“What?” you ask.

“I’ve never needed someone like this before,” he says.

“Me either,” you say. His hands and yours are still on each other.

“Joffrey is going to be very smug if we’re back here any longer,” you say.

“Let him,” Jace says, kissing your lips again.

For the next few days, every moment you and Jace can find to get your hands on each other, you take. Whether its meeting him in the dark hallways that lead to the sparring grounds, pulling you into a servant’s hallway, or your midnight meetings in your quarters, you can’t seem to get enough of him. All thoughts of suitor hunting have fled your mind.

Sometimes, after he leaves your quarters, or when you’re returning to your own, guilt seeps into you. Not only are you not doing what Jeyne requested, but you are going behind the backs of the family who brought you here. At night, you tell yourself that it must be the last, until you see Jace the next day. It was true – he was ruining you – but you were gladly letting him.

Jace lips are on yours the next day. Even though you spent the night before together, your need to be with him only seems to be growing.

“Y/N,” Jace says against your mouth.

“What?” you ask, in between kisses.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, leaning back from you.

“Nothing,” you say, reaching for him. He takes your hand but stays back from you.

“You can tell me anything,” he says, his thumb rubbing circles on your skin.

“I know,” you say.

“So, tell me," he says. You sigh, looking down at your entwined hands.

“I love you,” you begin, “And I love being with you, but I also know that we shouldn’t be doing this.”

“Y/N,” he says softly, pulling you closer. “There might still be a way this all works out.”

“Maybe,” you say, giving him a soft smile, “Logically, though, I know there is a greater chance that this all burns down around us.”

“Do you want to stop?” he asks, his eyes filled with pain.

“Not at all,” you whisper. You brush a hand over his face, bringing your lips together.

“I love you,” Jace says when he breaks away, “I’m not going to give you up without a fight.”

Jeyne arrives later that same day. You had know of her arrival for months now, but still her presence surprises you. Too long, your thoughts had lied only with Jace, and unfortunately, Jeyne had fallen to the back of your mind.

Queen Rhaenyra invites you both to a dinner with her family, wanting to officially thank Jeyne for sheltering her sons and Rhaena during the war. Seeing her makes you realize how much you’ve missed her.

As always, she is the center of attention, regaling the group with stories from the Vale, embarrassing anecdotes about you, Rhaena, and the boys. Multiple times in the evening, you catch her eyes lingering on you for a long moment, or glancing between you and Jace. You even catch her looking at Balea, looking to see if the princess can see what Jeyne herself was seeing quite clearly.

“So,” Jeyne says, flopping into a chair in your quarters after dinner, a smile on her face, “Tell me of all the excitements of King’s Landing.”

“I think you saw a great deal of it tonight.”

“Yes, I did notice some things,” she says, meeting your eyes with a knowing look. You try to hold it for a moment but too quickly have to look away. “The prince’s attentions seem to not have strayed from you."

“You think so?” you ask, sitting in the chair next to hers.

“Everyone at that table should think so, I presume. What they might not have noticed, though, was the look you gave the prince in return.”

“Jeyne,” you say quietly, a smile growing on your face. She furrows her brow at you, studying your face, until her face clears and a grin grows instead.

“You return his affections?” she asks.

“Yes,” you say, whisper soft. This is the first time you have been able to voice these feelings aloud, other than with Jace.

“Y/N!” she says excitedly, taking your hand in hers. “Your letters hinted that you were enjoying his attentions more than you had in the Vale, so I thought it was a possibility, but then your letters started coming less and less.”

“I’m sorry about that,” you say, “Things just got away from me.”

“Clearly,” she says with a cocked eyebrow. “So, what has happened between you two?”

“I love him, Jeyne,” you say, shaking your head in disbelief. “I don’t know how it happened, I was fighting it for so long and then sort of all at once I couldn't, but . . . I love him,” you say with a shrug, meeting her eyes. There is nothing but happiness on her face.

“Well, I can’t blame you for your changed feelings,” she says, “He has had quite the transformation since he came to the Vale.”

“He has,” you say, heat growing along your cheeks.

“Does anyone else know?” she asks.

“Joffrey, I think. Mostly, he’s just suspiciously accurate,” you say. “And, the prince has at least told the queen of his affections for me.”

“He means to break his betrothal?” Jeyne asks, her face immediately changing with interest.

“It won’t happen,” you say with a shake of your head. Suddenly, the fear from before is back, the crippling guilt.

“You don’t know that for sure.”

“Rhaenyra is not going to cut her husband’s daughter from the throne,” you say, “No matter how much she loves Jace.”

“Jace,” Jeyne says with a smile at the casual way you say his name. You let out a breath of laughter. “Does Rhaena not know then? Baela?”

“Neither of them knows,” you say. “Which has left me feeling awful, after all the work they’ve gone through to try and find me an appropriate suitor.”

“They have to be blind, to not see the way he looks at you,” she says. “I noticed it the very moment I met him, and again, when I arrived here. He loves you.”

“Regardless, the betrothal to Baela remains.”

“Well, how about the pursuits of your own?” she asks. “Anyone standing out?”

“No,” you say. “Not like Jace, and ever since I gave into these feelings, I have completely forgone the mating hunt.” A strange look passes over Jeyne’s face, one that dulls her good mood, but before you can ask about it, she jumps up from her seat.

“We need wine. This is the first I have seen you in months,” she says, gesturing to your lady’s maid. “And I only want to hear about the good.”

“Jeyne,” you start.

“No details until we have wine,” she says. When it is brought to the two of you, you thank Brigitta and pour the both of you a glass. Once Jeyne’s is in hand, she takes a hearty drink.

“So, tell me everything.”

The next morning, you are still feeling the effects of the wine. You forgot how much she likes to drink, and it has been a long time since you've kept up with her. Regardless of that, you feel lighter that morning. Keeping Jace a secret had been eating at you, and even though nothing had changed about the circumstances, you felt better just voicing your feelings.

You get out of bed, the morning light just beginning to pool into the room. You hear a soft snoring, and turn to your couch, where Jeyne had fallen asleep the night before. You had completely forgotten she was here, but just the sight of her makes you smile.

Brigitta enters into the room, startling you slightly, but a welcome addition altogether.

“Good morning, My Lady,” she says.

“Good morning, Brigitta,” you say. “I think we’ll need a few extra pastries this morning,” you say, rubbing your forehead. “And maybe that tonic from the Maester.”

“Of course, My Lady,” she says, “Before I fetch that though, I should tell you that the prince is waiting at your door."

“He’s what?” you ask in shock, a smile creeping its way across your face.

“At the door,” Brigitta repeats, with maybe a ghost of a smile on her own face. You move quickly towards the door, swinging it open so fast, it startles Jace.

“Sorry,” you say.

“That’s alright,” he says, looking between you and Brigitta, who is standing behind you. She shuffles by the two of you once you step out of the way. You beckon Jace into your room, making to tell him of Jeyne’s presence, but before you can, he grabs hold of you, wrapping you in his arms. His face burrows into your neck. You squeeze him just as tightly.

“Hi,” you say, when he pulls back enough to look at you.

“I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you,” you say, “It’s been so long that we haven’t spent the night together.”

“It was torturous,” Jace says. You laugh as you lean in to kiss him softly.

“Believe me, it was good to catch up with Jeyne, but I agree, it was quite torturous without you.”

“Glad to hear it.” You both snap your heads in the direction of Jeyne, who is sitting up on the couch, a smirk on her face. “Good morning, Your Highness,” she says to Jace. He is blushing furiously but nods his head to her.

“Lady Arryn.”

“You two are very beautiful together,” she says with a smile, “And I hate to part you, but I should remind you that Rhaena is meeting us for breakfast this morning.”

“I completely forgot,” you say, breaking from Jace’s arms. “You need to leave.” You begin to usher him towards the door, Jace laughing and coming up with half-hearted excuses to stay. At the door, he turns back to say something else or kiss you, but you only look at him sympathetically as you shut the door in his face.

“Thank you for reminding me about Rhaena,” you say, sitting down in the chair across from Jeyne. Brigitta walks in a minute later, a tray of pastries in her hand, and a pot of tea. You pour a cup for yourself and another for Jeyne, but she waves you off.

“Tell me, what did you mean by spend the night together?” Jeyne asks. “Don’t tell me you’ve bedded him.”

“Jeyne!” you scold, your cheeks flaming. “Of course we haven’t.”

“Why not?”

“Why not?" you ask in disbelief. "Because I am to be married, and most likely that husband is not going to be Jace.”

“Men can’t tell if you’ve done it before,” she says with a shrug. “Also, by the way he looks at you, he wants to badly.”

“It doesn’t matter if he does,” you say, taking a greedy, anxious bite of a pastry.

“It’d be good, I reckon,” she says, continuing, completely oblivious to your growing shame, and the fact that the door opened on the opposite end of the room. “With how much he loves you, he’d do you right.”

“You are shameless.”

“What is there to be shameful about!” she declares with a laugh. “Just sleep with him!”

“Stop it,” you say with a shake of your head.

“Why? I’m the one that saw your love from the start! That puppy dog look never left, it just got hornier, and it spread over to you, too.”

“What are you talking about?” Rhaena asks.

She stands in the entry way of your chambers, a smile on her face. She thinks this is another one of Jeyne’s jokes, that she’s talking about one of the suitors that she looked so hard to find for you. This is your worst fear coming true, and you see it all happening before it does. No gods come to stop it, no matter how hard you beg.

“Rhaena,” you say, standing quickly. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

“Clearly,” she says. “Were you talking about . . . Jace?” she asks, looking between the two of you. “Joffrey said Jace was acting differently,” she says, brow furrowed, “He was teasing him, about falling in love. A puppy dog look . . .” she ponders, “They were referring to you.”

“He’s not in love with me,” you say quietly, knowing it’s a lie. Jeyne focuses her attention into her cup of tea.

“I know we used to joke about it,” Rhaena says, shaking her head. “I just never thought . . .”

“I promise you, nothing has come of our feelings,” you say, speaking too quickly to realize that you’ve slipped, in trying not to do so. Before you can correct yourself, Rhaena takes a step back.

“’Our’ feelings?” she repeats.

“Rhaena, I . . . What’s going on with Jace, it’s . . .” You give up trying. There is no explanation, because you can’t explain to yourself what’s going on with him. There are no steps to the dance you two are doing, no instructor to stop you from waltzing to your destruction.

“I need to go,” she says softly. “Good day, Lady Arryn.” She only gives you a look in parting as she walks back out through the doorway. You watch the closed door for too long, regret seeping into your bones.

“She’ll get over it,” Jeyne says, gently.

“She’s going to tell Baela!” you say, spinning to face her.

“If she doesn’t already know, she’s going to make a terrible wife,” she says with a sad laugh. You look at her in confusion, which makes her laughter stop. “Every nobleman cheats on his wife. If she doesn’t see it coming, she’s the one at fault.”

“That’s a horrible thing to say. About them both.”

“You think you’re the first wrong girl a prince ever fell for? It is an age-old story. They are bound by duty, they’ll produce heirs, but their hearts and their cocks still lie within the ones they truly loved,” she says sagely.

“And what happens to the girl?” you ask, “The one they really loved?” Jeyne looks at you for a long moment, her face falling even further. She swallows before speaking.

“Lord Blacktyde is a bachelor again,” she says softly. "His wife . . . died under mysterious circumstances."

“What?” you ask, your voice dropping as you do, too, into the seat across from her.

“I just got word a few days ago. I thought about writing, but it felt like something better shared in person."

“Of course,” you say with a shake of your head.

“I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry about, Jeyne," you say. "How long ago?"

"My source thought maybe two months back. Obviously, they've kept details about her death quiet," she says. She sighs as she meets your eyes. "I'm afraid he'll come looking for you again."

“I should be able to protect those of my house,” she says firmly, her eyes watering. “If he does come, I will do everything in my power to keep you from going with him. I won't stop--"

“I know you won’t,” you say carefully. “I'm so foolish for not finding a match quicker, we knew this was a possibility, I—”

“No, you are not foolish. At all.” She looks at you plainly for a long moment. “Fuck the prince, Y/N. You might never get the chance to be fucked by a man who loves you as much as he does. You deserve it at least once.”

“What about Baela? About—”

“What could she do?” she asks with a sad shrug. What fate, worse than Blacktyde, could she sentence you to, her words seem to mean. “She’ll get to fuck him her whole life. Only fair to give you a turn.”

Baela and Rhaena are standing in your room, talking in low, urgent whispers, when you return to your quarters, that night. When the door creaks open, they quiet and look at you. Rhaena’s expression is anxious, her eyes wide and watery. Baela’s is the exact opposite. Dragon fire is ablaze in her eyes, and you are smart enough to be nervous.

“Before you say anything,” you say, “I just want you to know that—”

“I don’t wish to hear what you have to say,” Baela says quickly. "No more lies, Y/N."

“I never lied to you,” you say. She lets out a tut of laughter.

“Maybe not to my face, but you certainly went behind my back with Jace.” You say nothing, because apologizing won’t do anything right now. “I don’t have to remind you of what the kingdom has just gone through. Another fight for the crown will end us all, I fear.”

“I want no fight, Baela. Jace and I haven’t done anything. They are feelings only, and ones I do not wish to act on.”

“Why not?” she asks, her eyes narrowing.

“What?”

“Why don’t you wish to act on them?” she asks. You scrunch your eyebrows, but shake your head.

“Because I care about you and your sister,” you say, looking to Rhaena. “And because I know that no matter what, I am not good enough for the prince, and never will be.” Baela studies you for a long moment, some of her anger washing away.

“The prince and I need to sort things out,” she says, when she does speak again. “I think it’d be better if you weren’t here when we do.”

“What?” you ask, panic shooting through your body. You look to Rhaena.

“I don’t want you in the Red Keep anymore,” Baela says, lifting her chin regally. “But seeing as Lady Jeyne Arryn is here, I will not send you home. Dragonstone should be a fine location until we can get this all settled.”

[jazjelspen]

my angel baby (part 6)

alastor w/ angel daughter reader

(notes: alastor's adoptive daughter is in hell, let's hope she doesn't get eaten alive!)

(the singing lines you'll encounter were meant to not be in order.. you'll understand once you read it hehe >:) )

(caution: alastor being lowkey a bit manipulative? not too terrible but just word of caution.)

(tags: @maksdust @willowwillflower @sunshinesetsstuff @0willowwisp0 @projectdreamwalker @1potato2rulethemall @just-here-reading @avitute @pooplyface1423 @insomniacfigure @mo-0-o @thekanrojimitsuri2 @nevermorekisses @wildfire153 )

my editor <3: @kruncher

Rosie finished her sentence by patting your shoulder gently before her hands finally rested on the handle of her umbrella once more.

You fiddled with your hands as you shined an awkward smile.. you looked like a child about to give a powerpoint presentation to a class.

You then chose to immediately face the Princess once again, eyes on her entirely "but.. um.. Yes!.. Princess Charlie, I saw you at the courtroom presenting your case and I just have to say I'm very inspired!... and I would like to contribute to your cause somehow!.." you paused yourself from speaking too much into it.. wanting to save certain parts for only her ears to hear.

"I also would need to get back home.. and I know you have that sort of influence in Hell to get me a way in Heaven again!-- o...oh..-"

You felt your skin crawl as you barely acknowledged a suddenly teleported Alastor to your side, his staff holding up your injured wing gently to get a good look at the bandaged injury.. his eyes narrowing and a 'hmm' softly escaping his throat. 

A threatening spark in his eye flashed which resulted in your injured wing suddenly moving away from him, despite that flash not being for you specifically. 

In his usual Alastor fashion he seemed very collected, but it was a bit obvious he was much intrigued at your presence and your bandage.

Charlie seemed to finally catch her bearings, moving a few frazzled strands of hair away from her face. "Well.. Welcome either way! We can definitely do that! I will admit I only managed to get through to heaven thanks to my dad but I'm sure he can come up with some sort of way to get you back home!" she seemed to look at your halo and wings, your status as an angel very well seen and she was honestly a bit frazzled by a 'winner' falling down in here all of a sudden.

Rosie gently laid her hand on Alastor's shoulder "Poor little thing ain't she? Susan got her wing real good but I fixed her up right in the nick of time! no infection will harm her further."

Alastor's radio shriek happened again but in a much softer pitch "Susan did this?" There was a quick pause before Alastor spoke up again, "Oh I'll have to talk with Susan soon! How impolite could that old woman be! The senior citizens these days.." he rolled his eyes in a playful manner before Charlie spoke up again.

"Well!-- _____ was it? Let me see if I can get Vaggie to sho--"

"Nonsense!" Interrupted Alastor, almost practically jumping in between Charlie and yourself with a very odd excitement. "Why, I'll help of course! It is quite simple just taking a new guest to their new room!"

Charlie smiled half heartedly "Alastor that's so helpful of you! Just.. don't scare our guest please. I know how interesting you can.. get." the end of her sentence dragged on, as if dreading what he's capable of doing. "Oh and no deals! This is a freedom-oriented place! We don't want any souls to be collected here please.." she then just gave you two a thumbs up, a bit exhausted but still uplifting.

"Meanwhile I'll talk to Rosie here about her cannibals and how we intend to also keep them safe! While they also get their-- fill!.."

Alastor seemed to slither his arm around yours, elbows interlocking. "How exciting! There's so much to show you around here in the Hazbin Hotel! Gosh it'll make you wish to stay down here forever!" A loud cackle could be heard from him that eventually morphed into a bunch of static-covered laugher.

Your body froze as you were dragged away by Alastor up the velvet red steps, not even getting a chance to properly thank Rosie and Charlie.

You're stuck with him now.

Lucky you.

Getting dragged by Alastor was as if a swarm of wasps was lingering on your arm; absolutely nerve-wrecking. 

You stayed quiet as he continued to ramble, talking nonsense about hell, the hotel, how he thought of the name and the design.. basically bragging. It all went in one ear and out the other.

"--isn't that right darling?"

huh?

Your senses came back to you and your eyes flickered up to him once before looking down. "Oh.. my bad I didn't catch that.."

Alastor stopped in his tracks which immediately caused you to stop in yours. There was a pause..

"Why, my dear, since when have I ever had to repeat anything to you? You hardly ever daydreamed like this before!"

You let out a shaky exhale through your nose, "Yea.. sorry." you spoke in a subtle sarcastic way.

He shook his head, his tongue clicking into minor sounds of 'tsk tsk.' "Oh _____ darling there's no need to be so formal! I'm your father! Not a stranger."

You scoffed, "You seem to enjoy treating me like one."

His eyes narrowed down at you; you wanted to burst into a cold sweat just like that. 

"It's better that way, you have absolutely no clue about how animalistic these sinners can be!"

He let his arm uncurl around yours to stand in front of a hotel room door with one of the miscellaneous hotel numbers at the top, his hand covering over the door knob as a green glowing hue forced it to open with a single 'click', a key suddenly spawning and dropping right into the palm of his clawed hand.

Your nose scrunched up in slight disgust "Oh I, in fact, do have a clear idea.. "

Alastor didn't respond to your comment but simply took your hand and had your palm face upward, dropping the cold obsidian key on your skin.

"Your key to your new quarters! If there's any issues with it, do let us know how we can fix it for you."

Your fingers closed your hand around the item and held it tightly against your chest in a defensive stance.

"Uh huh.." you then skimmed past him to walk through the door, your free hand clenching onto the handle of your travel bag in stress.

"Although, I'm simply dying to know--" Alastor's haunting voice caused you to freeze, your head slowly tilted to look behind you with a chill down your spine. Alastor's eyes radiated red, red as sin. 

"Why exactly did you think it was a swell idea to drop aaaall the way down here?" His arm holding up his came pointing up and slowly down as he stretched out the word 'all', insinuating falling down from heaven.

"And somehow doing that while still staying pure as snow? Oh darling, I just must know!"

You huffed a sigh out your nose and rolled your eyes,

"You know, I really admire how hard you try to ask questions when you know I'm not gonna tell you anything."

"_______, even a blind and deaf man would know that voluntarily going down here is practically a suicide! And I know you, you must've thought of this real well hmm? Risking getting gutted like a fish?"

"What would you like to know.." you mumbled as you then proceeded to close the door on him, your back slowly turning towards him.

Until the door was harshly tugged back to stay open, looking over to see Alastor gripping the other end of the door knob.

He laughed, it intimidated and irritated you "My darling you seem to forget who I am. I'm no stranger, I didn't spend the entirety of my glory 20s and 30s to raise you alone just for you to attempt to disown me. Besides.. you still need me my dear. 

After all.. I was the one that held you when the thunder refused to subside, I built you a home.. a wonderful home that others would live in with pride!"

He grabbed your hand yet again to pull you out once more, twirled you suddenly and pointed at your current outfit, a bit dirty with faint spots of dirt on certain spots from first hitting that dumpster when you first got here. 

"Don't even have to mention the elephant in the room.. just simply look at you! Fragile as a flower, still a little sampling.. just a sprout." He next pointed at your wings, ears, and halo during the duration of his phrase. His tone slowly morphing into a familiar sing-song voice and melody you could have sworn was something from your childhood.

You scoffed "Okay that's nice and all but can I just g--"

"Father knows best! listen to your father, It's a scary world out there, " He teleported behind you in the opposite direction of where you were facing you, a hand on your shoulder as his shadow morphed into a more terrifying form for you to gasp and shriek at. 

"Father knows best, one way or another something will go wrong-- I swear!" You couldn't help but stumble a few steps back in shock and fear from seeing that shadow again, causing you to trip over your feet and end up getting thrown by gravity down to the floor in a sit-up position.

"Oh look! Sloppy, underdressed, immature, clumsy, please--" he walked up to you, bending down to grab your hand once more to pull you up harshly. His eyes glowing while closely meeting yours as his shadow laughed in the background menacingly "They'll eat you up alive!"

As he playfully shouted his words in that familiar sing-song melody that you couldn't exactly tap into at this moment, he yet continued to hold up your right hand up in the air and the other proceeded to hold your left.. he was now twirling you around across the hall diverting slightly far from your open hotel room as if you were both dancing in a mix of 30s and classic ballroom dancing. You tried to push him away but his grip was fierce and the sudden dancing confused you, making you unable to properly think about your next move.

"Father's right here, father will protect you, darling here's what I suggest!" He then finally stopped at the foot of your door, your vision getting a bit woozy from the intense spinning Alastor put you through. "Skip the drama, stay with papa--"

"Alastor for fucks sake!-" you finally exclaimed, rubbing your eyes and taking a moment to relax your eyes to recover from your previous state.

"I can handle myself! I know ways to protect my own skin and none of them involve you!" You panted as you stomped your way back in your given room, this time gripping the door handle with a grip you've never had before. 

"Now go do whatever it is you do, and leave me alone!" you slammed the door in his face and locked it as quickly as you could, eventually throwing your bag on your new and neat bed with a huff. 

You've never felt so much anger before since you were living and breathing-- these complicated emotions rising in you like a volcano that sat dormant for centuries until finally erupting and exploding fire and skin-melting magna. This all came out with you lashing out and now even wanting to tear up a bit since you always hated fighting-- with him, with anyone. It hurt. More than it should have. 

You simply crawled on your bed and held yourself, knees up to your chest and arms around your knees. Comforting yourself in the only way you knew how.

God, you hoped this trip in the end turned out to be worth it.

Alastor on the other hand simply smirked, your stubbornness will be no match to his own and he will be sure of that.

"Goodness. Even after all these years, the temper tantrums will never cease." He let out a small pitched 'hm' as he turned on his heel to head back to the Princess of Hell and help her with her next few plans with the battle against the exorcists. 

Unbeknownst to them, a pair of eyes noticed and witnessed the father and daughter's interaction in the hall.

Back to you,

Curled up in your hotel room you then decided to crawl over to your traveling bag, scrambling over to open it and hastily take out a few things like a smaller bag full of toiletries, clothes, and even your personal first aid box for emergencies. 

All would be put aside only for your hand to be looking for one thing in particular, hidden under all your neatly packed items was a journal you brought from back up in heaven to document events to keep your thoughts in place, help you cope with changes, and just as a way to express your emotions in a healthy way and you knew you would need these more during these next few weeks. 

Opening the hard cover your eyes were met with a small paper pocket that you taped up in order to save photographs and small thin memory trinkets. 

You smiled softly, your other hand then went to look at the side of your bag to take yet another photograph, it was the one you put in right before leaving your home to get to hell. 

Placing that photo on the cover of your bed, then taking out your photos that were inside that small pocket of your book you then spread them out all beside each other on your bed.

Six exact photos you had, each correlating to a specific memory you adored dearly.

First five photos were favorite memories of yours, some were of when you were hanging out with Sera, St. Peter, and other court member friends of yours. Either at picnics, libraries, shops, restaurants, etc. 

The last two were more than important to you though, they were two portrait pictures of her and you.

She was a much older woman, she died around the time you were born but never have you felt like someone was more like family in heaven than she did. Unfortunately you never had the chance to meet her until you were in heaven but at the same time after making an intense realization when getting to know her better it's as if you knew her your entire life. 

She was one of your favorite people, but one of your most painful reminders.

Your hand grazed over those two photos, your hand trying so hard not to clench them due to how many fucking things are setting in place, connecting to each other.

"I'll be back, I promise." you spoke to the images of her sitting beside her with her kind smile, you could see him through her smile as well "I'm sorry I never got to tell you what he did, who he really is.. you don't deserve the pain that comes with it if I did.."

You teared up, decades of guilt overwhelming you in this single moment. "I'm sorry grandmother, that he turned out this way.. that he did this to me."

You had no reason to apologize, no reason at all.

But she was so good to you, she recognized your last name but you couldn’t bear to ever tell her the truth and that guilt haunted you yet you reassured yourself it’s better to keep her from knowing who he really is with how highly she speaks of him. 

She treated you as if you were her own flesh and blood. She gave you a home as well up in heaven, took care of you.. guess the apple doesn't fall far from the tree in that aspect.

How can someone like him, with a mother like her, turn out the way he did.

How.. sad, that truly is.

—---------------------------------------

You were sixteen years of age when this specific event occurred.

You have always been a good kid, always done as you've been told such as '____ dear don't forget to wash your dishes today', '_____ don't forget about your school work.', 'get in bed now young lady, you still have a bedtime you know', and '______ dear you're a bit too young to read the news don't you think? read this instead, more appropriate for young girls your age!'

You have always done what your father told you, followed every rule he sets, avoided every thing he didn't want you to do. 

Although.. whenever you did something you weren't supposed to was where you slightly feared him. He never yelled, never was one to do so. He was always a gentleman and as kind as he could be, although most of it for show. 

One thing he always was, is being passive aggressive. 

Passive aggressiveness was one of his many strong suits, and using words to get you to fear and to avoid doing what you were not meant to do was his specialty. You always wanted to please your father, for you knew that your entire life was the way it was because he chose to be responsible for you. This didn't happen much though because you just always followed what he ordered.

But sometimes being too obedient can be tiring and you were starting to get a little brave recently.

You see, your father has never allowed you in his home office for as long as you could remember, for all you knew he only took you inside when you were a baby with no total awareness. 

Why were you never allowed in his study?

You were.. actually never sure yourself, at least not until the days leading up to your death.

You were always told it was because it was his private space where he wants to keep everything neat and tidy, and that he wants his work space where he saves and writes anything for his radio show in there and that anyone on the outside would simply ruin the ambiance inside that helps him work.. or whatever.

Although, the older you got and the more conscious you gained you eventually thought that this rule is kind of.. stupid? It's just a study but.. you just guessed that whatever your father said was true.

On this particular day though, you wanted to give him a surprise! Only issue was that it included the study..

It was the day before Alastor's birthday, and you just wanted to check his schedule without being too obvious at all to make sure you had time to slip his gift either in his bedroom or sent to his radio studio.. so you decided to quickly slip into his study and check it really fast and leave!..

You spent the entire month before to find someone and commission for them to make a portrait painting with you, Alastor, and his mother in a single frame. Even giving photos of your father and your grandmother for them to reference, due to the lack of colors at the time with photographs it was more of a monochrome painting at best. This would be your birthday gift to him.

You waited for him to leave for work for his evening broadcast and you just came from school, pretending to be reading a book you were assigned to while laying on your bed and relaxing.

Alastor knocked at your door, letting out a quick 'come in!' In reply, he opened it for only his face to pop out of your door with his iconic smile.

"Hello darling! Just wanted to let you know I'll be off to do my next broadcast! Don't forget to tune in soon if you don't have any school work to do."

"Yes father, see you soon!"

"See you soon sweetheart! if I'm late for dinner there's always some leftovers."

He waved at you before closing your door and leaving a bit hastily despite being very early. You stayed as silent as possible till you heard his footsteps distancing away and finally.. that distant loud click of the front door.

You got moving, dropping the book on the bed without a care while scrambling up and opening the door to your room, your feet pitter pattering across the hall and down in front of the study, your hand reaching towards the doorknob in excitement. 

Until you stopped.

'What if he finds out? do you think he'll notice the slightest change at all?.. would he yell or get mad?.. ground me?.. he's never grounded me much but..' your hand inched closer to the knob, the moment your fingertips touched the wooden texture that's when you knew you weren't going to turn back.

'well.. it's a huge surprise for him.. it's just checking his work schedule without him knowing so he won't have a clue I have a surprise for him, it'll be easy!..' 

And finally your fingers wrapped around the doorknob and finally opened the entrance to the study with sudden anticipation while the creek coming from the door only caused goosebumps up your arms.

The room itself was dark and smelled of old wood from the floorboards and dusty papers, speaking of the floors they creeped like crazy with each hesitant step you took inside while your eyes scanned the entire foreign environment. 

Your eyes managed to make out in the middle of the room a large cushioned chair positioned in front of an even larger wooden desk that was wide enough as a school principal's desk would be. Approaching it you now got to see more clearer details like several papers and folders being sprawled around the space, two half empty cups of his usual coffee, pens in pen holders and laid with the papers,.

Your eyes looked up to see the wooden walls organized with draped over portraits of Alastor himself as a kid, others of paintings of his mother that you haven't seen besides the one in the living room and the photos he showed you, and.. one of you as a toddler.. your eyes couldn't help but linger at that particular portrait of you that you have never seen.

You looked down at the desk again to look for his work schedule since all you knew was that it was in some leather journal you saw him carry before.

But you were yet again met with a framed photo standing on his desk and it was one of you as a baby! You've seen baby photos of yourself but never one of where you literally were still sleeping in the crib.. you couldn't help but smile. 

But you went back to work, opening the squeaky drawers filled with hardcover books, folders with dates and names of several shows he's done before. 

Looking at one of the drawers nearest to the ground on the right hand side was where you found even more photos of you as a baby! And even others of himself growing up and some of his mother, your heart warmed at the thought of your father always keeping his family in mind. 

And how amazing was it that the leather journal you were looking for to finally show up! 

Taking it out with great anticipation you skimmed through the pages of his endless paragraphs and paragraphs of letters and numbers.. suddenly stopping at a particular page where there were.. stains.. they looked almost black in the dark but by squinting your eyes you can barely tell a dark hue of red.. you stood up to see if there was a small lamp on the desk that you missed but right as yo--

"What are you doing here."

Alastor's voice boomed across the room startling you to the point where the journal closed and almost jumped out of your arms as you gasped.

Your eyes darted at the door which didn't seem to hear the creek open the way it did when you came in, covered in darkness was Alastor of course.. his eyes and smile seemingly piercing through the darkness as his figure was illuminated from the light in the halls.

"Father!-- I.. I'm.. I just wanted to--" He interrupted you not by speaking, but by walking in and the creeks from the wooden floors seemed more threatening than when you first heard them. The closer he got the more your shoulders raised up.. "Look I'm sorry I just wanted to see your work schedule, that's all!.."

"Darling." god even the way he pulled on the chain attached to the lamp made it scary as well.. "You have never disobeyed me before, how can I work comfortably now?"

"I'm.. I'm sorry.." 

Alastor's aura seemed to at least lighten up with the lamp now.. god.

"Guess I always knew this day was coming.." he shook his head in disappointment, "knew that soon you'd want to leave the nest."

"But I--"

"Soon, but not yet. Trust me, pet."

"But father! I just wanted to look at your work schedule.."

"And you could've asked, not sneaked in like some thief.. I never raised you that way." Despite how the situation is though.. he had his eerie permanent smile on his face which only confused you more.

"You see my dear, by disobeying me even in the simplest of things only calls for danger. Unnecessary trouble to lure and latch onto you. Trouble in which even I won't protect you from."

Why was he talking like this?.. you were unsure.. but you knew that he was leading on to make some kind of point.. but in a sing-song type of approach. 

It wasn't uncommon for him to sing lessons to you at this age or whatever age you and him were, it's a common thing to you that his theatrics were an everyday thing.. it's how you learned how to sing yourself.

He continued, "Gullible, naive, positively grubby, ditzy, and a bit.. well.. hmm.. vague!"

You shook your head in confusion, him taking himself beside you to then shine you the most.. warming smile yet. The mixed signals were insane.

Seeing your confusion he only intensified it more "oh but darling I'm just saying cause' I love you, father understands, father's here to help you, all I have is one request!..” he spun around you as he ended up facing you and holding your hands in his, finally pulling you in a warm hug. oh wow.. he was never one to say ‘I love you’ much.. This total change was whiplash at its finest. 

You melted in the hug quite easily as you were always an affectionate child, plus you wanted to get rid of the guilt by just.. hoping he would forget what you tried to do. 

“_____?”

“Yes?..” 

The energy changed.

“Don’t ever come back into my study, again.”

“I..” you were speechless.. you were starting to question his authority slightly more than ever but.. “Yes father..”

“Oh I love you very much dear..”

You smiled slightly despite the stern scold he gave just now, but he was also never one to hug much so this made you feel nice.. 

“I love you more..” you could almost feel Alastor slowly grab onto the journal you were holding and tucked it in his coat which he usually wore out to work. 

“I love you most.” Backing away from the embrace with his hands on your shoulders he also gave you an uncharacteristically yet fatherly peck on your forehead and hairline which was only saved for when he’s tucking you in at night and he’s having a good day. 

Leaving behind a small ‘peck’ sound. It was almost kinda awkward the way he stood, it was as if he was trying to make it convincing with how fast it was too. 

“Don’t forget it!” He smiled at you brightly as he raised up a finger to only move it side to side.

“You’ll regret it.. Father! Knows best..” he gave you simply two pats on the head with his palm and his book in his jacket due to how swiftly he took it from your hands. 

Leading you out the door with a swift motion of him pulling you by your wrist and into the hall once more.. this time making a mental note as he closed the door behind him to get a proper lock for his study next time.

He then immediately started scrambling out the door, “Oh well look at the time! Almost late for work! I’ll see you in a while, my flower! Remember, I trust you! Don’t break it again! Would be a shame if that were your gift for my birthday!..” Cheerfully announcing across the house as he finally reached the door to pop out in the wide world again.

Why did he come back? You could only assume he forgot the journal you were holding before..

You sighed, biting the inside of your cheek with your eyes wanting to water. “I just wanted to give you your gift perfectly..”

Arms crossed, you went back into your room and sat at the foot of your bed. Somberly regretting your terrible decisions..

‘Can't believe you broke his trust like that!.. and a day before his birthday??.. you must be out of your mind _____.’ Eyebrows turn down with a sad little frown on your face.

‘Although..’ your thoughts led you to look out the doorway of your room and into the dark hall. 

‘Is there anything else he’s trying to hide?..’

(HEYYYY thank you for reading chapter 6!! This was a total blast to write ✨ had so much fun trying to add a bit more detail into Alastor since he is still a serial killer, and he does this all out of love but it can definitely come out more.. manipulative. Whether he does it on purpose or not kinda depends on how you want to see it but personally he does it on purpose because he knows it’ll keep his daughter at bay qwq -and yes! I used tangled songs because personally I felt like it really emulated this side of him so ya!! He loves her to death but isn’t afraid at all to pull strings.)

[zepskies]

Headcanon: Teasing him under the table.

Pairings: Dean Winchester x F. Reader, Beau Arlen x F. Reader, Soldier Boy/Ben x F. Reader

AN: This was requested by this lovely anon:

Could you please write an imagine or something of all three boys (Dean: love the plus-sized one-shots; Ben from BMD: love your interpretation of The Boys; and Beau) - and how would they react to their girlfriends giving them a footsie? 👀

I'm interpreting this as a "playing footsie" moment lol.

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! Flirting, innuendo, and some smuttiness. (You know Ben. 🙄)

Headcanon: How Dean, Beau, and Ben would react to you teasing him under the table.

Dean Winchester

Because of the request, I had the Espresso-verse version of Dean and the reader in mind, but this can be general Dean x Reader too.

Dean is playful by nature. (AKA: a professional flirt.)

He enjoys working you up, but he enjoys it even more when you're confident enough to tease him back...even if it somehow always surprises him.

But he's been driving you crazy all damn day. Throughout the whole damn hunt.

Flirty smiles, suggestive quips masked as "innocent" remarks, brief touches to your arm, the small of your back, guiding you by your hip, a thumb swiping under your shirt and against your skin, lightly pressing into your curves...

It's all "normal," except for the deeper, suggestively teasing glint in his eyes.

He's in a good mood, and he wants you to know it.

And it's all in front of Sam, who knows the game you two are playing. Sometimes he smiles in both amusement and fondness, and he looks away to allow you guys your moment. Sometimes he rolls his eyes, or just tries to ignore it when he's had enough of you two eye-fucking in plain sight.

Dean knows what his touch does to you, but you know one or two of his weaknesses too...

When the hunt is finally over, the three of you find the closest diner to the motel you're staying at.

Dean orders the greasiest burger you've ever seen. He also teases Sam for already looking for the next case with his laptop at the table.

Dean glances over, his lips starting to curve as he licks a bit of burger juice off his fingers. He looks at you dead in the eyes while he sucks his digits clean.

He's equal parts noisy and disgusting. But damn him, your hand tightens around your glass of water. Your lips press together, and so do your legs. You nudge his foot with your boot and raise your brows. Stop it.

He pouts, and he nudges your foot right back. Make me.

You tilt your head at him. Adopting a certain smile, you slide your foot across the floor, under the table, and graze his calf with the side of your boot.

Dean's lips twitch. Sam is seemingly oblivious as he continues researching on his laptop.

Your foot travels higher up Dean's leg, up the inside of his thigh. You only gasp a little when he suddenly reaches down and grabs your ankle. His resulting smirk is salacious, even as he challenges you with his eyes. What're you gonna do now?

You contemplate exactly that, when his brother's voice startles you.

"Can you guys do me a favor and quit it?" Sam asks. He doesn't even look up from his laptop. "At least wait until we get home."

You bite your lip and blush. Both you and Dean fight harder smiles at being caught.

"No one likes a killjoy, Sammy," Dean remarks. Sam just sends his brother a dry look.

Dean's amusement remains. He taps on your ankle in contemplation, but after a moment, he lets you go. He grabs his phone and texts you under the table.

"Quickie out back?"

You grimace, then you text him back.

"Gross, babe. There are things I promised myself I'd never do in a public bathroom."

"So...meet you in 5? Come on, I'll do that thing you like. 😈"

His stupid grin, his stupid face, his long fingers tapping on the tabletop (somehow, even that is suggestive). It all eventually breaks you down.

"...Ugh, fine," you reply. You slide out of your chair first. But as you walk past him, you let your fingers brush down his neck — in a way that always makes a little shiver run down his spine. You smirk in satisfaction as you walk away.

He might've started it, but you could damn well finish it.

Beau Arlen

Oh, my dear cowboy sheriff...

Beau is also a jokester. He takes his work and the people in his life seriously, but he likes to keep things "loose." Perhaps it's a coping mechanism, but it's mostly just his way of going through life.

Tonight, however, is a tense dinner with your parents, Beau, Emily, and his parents that are visiting from Houston.

It's a nice steakhouse, more high scale than you or Beau are used to, but your parents insisted on it. Beau's parents are good-natured and full of southern charm. They're just happy to see their son and granddaughter, let alone meet his girlfriend for the first time.

The night is only tense because, as much as you love your parents, they're not sure about you dating a man with such a dangerous job.

They also have a thing about appearances, and the fact that he's divorced and has a child who isn't yours, and frankly, all the things you don't give a rat's ass about.

Your back is ramrod straight in your chair (there's a tightness in your spine that comes every time your mom taps you on the hand with her fork to remind you not to slouch).

You can't even really taste what you're eating, because you're too focused on making sure your parents don't say anything insulting to Beau and his family.

Then a boot taps against your open-toed heel. You glance over at your boyfriend, and he's already wearing a smile. He gives you a teasing wink as he eats a forkful of mashed potatoes.

Your stress begins to melt, just like that. God, this man.

You smile back at him and take a calming sip of wine. Your mom begins to talk about her upcoming tupperware party. Your smile deepens, but not because of that.

You playfully tap your foot on Beau's without looking at him.

You feel his discreet stare on the side of your face, but you pretend to be invested in your mom's conversation about tupperware. (I mean really, I thought those parties went extinct. Apparently, not in the Midwest.)

Beau's foot nudges yours back. You hook your toes under the hem of his pant leg, inching it up and up...

He retaliates with a hand drifting down your thigh, over the skirt of your dress. He grabs just above your knee and squeezes. Your leg jerks up on reflex, and your knee hits under the table hard enough to rattle the silverware, making you yelp.

The whole table looks over at you in both surprise and concern. (Your mother more in disapproval.)

Beau bites his lip against a deeper smile.

"You okay there, baby?" he asks.

"Sorry, my foot slipped," you lie through a tight smile. When you turn to him, your eyes narrow a fraction, promising retribution. You grab his hand tightly, but he just uses the motion to bring yours up to his lips.

Beau looks forward to whatever you plan to dish out next, as long as you wait until after dessert.

Soldier Boy (Ben)

Aw hell, this guy. 😂 I'm imagining BMD-verse Ben for this one...

Ben has a decent sense of humor, but he doesn't often like to be teased.

He'd rather be respected.

But you love to tease him anyway.

You also know his "limits," but it doesn't stop you from figuratively tap dancing all over them when you have the opportunity. You're slowly but surely trying to get him to loosen up.

Sometimes though, it bites you in the ass.

Like tonight, when you've gotten him to come with you to a Broadway show. You two have your own private booth on the second floor balcony. (He likes the privacy, and it's safer for you, as he's argued.)

20 minutes in, and you can already tell he's gotten bored. To be fair, it's a drama that's admittedly a bit dry and slow. You don't want him to walk out before the intermission, so you start to hatch an idea...

Your legs are crossed, and you draw your high-heel slowly against the side of his foot. When he glances over you, you pretend to be invested in the show. Your arms are crossed over your black dress that falls to mid-thigh. Your jacket is draped across your lap.

You brush the thin point of your heel across the top of his shoe, then inch it up under his pant leg, higher and higher.

Until Ben's hand finally grabs hold of your knee. Biting your lip, you turn to him with a smile.

"Do you mind? I'm watching the show," you tell him. He allows you to peel his hand of your leg and place it back in his lap. You cross your legs in the opposite direction.

Ben raises his brows. His lips twitch slightly, but he seems to acquiesce, relaxing back in his seat.

For a while, you actually watch the play. You become invested in the story and the characters by the time it gets halfway through Act 1.

That's when you feel a strong hand slowly slip down your thigh and between your legs, slowly rucking up the skirt of your dress.

You try to stifle a gasp as you look over at Ben. He doesn't meet your hot stare, but his hand is certainly on the move, covered by your jacket. He brushes against your panties.

Against your better judgment, you let him spread your legs wider. A smile finally crosses his face. His fingers hook around your underwear and brush between your folds. You let out a shaky breath and shift in your seat.

You know you should stop him, but you can't help the warm coil of arousal starting pool in your lower belly, and between your legs. Ben feels it with a smirk. His fingers find your clit with ease.

"Ben," you gasp, warning him in a heated whisper.

He leans over and presses a raspy kiss to your neck, thanks to his beard.

"Perks of a private room," he says. His voice is a low rumble in your ear.

You start to shake your head. You know you started this, but you also know him. This has the potential to go off the rails very quickly.

"This isn't a room. We're on a damn balcony," you breathe out, even as his fingers continue to work you over. You bite your lip to stifle a moan. "Anyone could—"

"Who gives a fuck?" Ben says gruffly.

As usual, his raunchy brand of logic (and his talented hands) manage to persuade you to give in.

AN: lol I had fun with this one. Let me know what you think! 💜

Dean Winchester Imagines

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[megamagimugi]

He's-a Gone

Luigi time! To suffer, that is.

(CW: character death)

This is obviously a sort of comlementary piece to I Was-a Too Late. But it's more than just that as it also illustrates a certain fun, dark what-if idea I had. Please keep reading if you're intrigued!

Lore:

Luigi's Mansion, the first game. Everything goes the same as in canon until the final boss fight, when Luigi defeats King Boo in his Bowser costume. After King Boo comes out and Luigi intends to suck him in, the villain laughs and reveals the truth: Mario's painting was an illusion, so was everything Madame Clairvoya saw. All just to mess with Luigi. Meanwhile the real Mario wasn't just captured by the Boos, he was immediately killed by them on their King's orders. The only physical thing that's left of him in this realm is the five items Luigi found - hidden by the Boos for Luigi to find, another part of King Boo's sick game.

Luigi is able to finish the fight despite his shock and grief, fueled by the anger King Boo never expected from him. After getting out of the painting the plumber discovers that it is indeed empty, no Mario or anyone else in the portrait.

Heartbroken and guit-ridden, Luigi goes back to Professor E. Gadd's lab and gives him back the Poltergust 3000. He doesn't even want to stay long enough to see what is going to happen to the ghosts. Of course the Professor tries to offer some semblance of comfort, but we all know it's not his forte.

So Luigi leaves, only taking Mario's five items with him. He notices that the mansion has disapeared without a trace. The reality of it all finally hits him, and he practically collapses onto a nearby tree's large root protruding from the ground, putting down the precious items around himself, only leaving the matching red hat and the letter in his hands. He should have known something was off. After all, the Mario he saw in the painting was wearing his hat and both gloves.

Looking at all these items, to his growing horror he can't help but imagine what exactly might have happened to his brother and what his last moments might have been like. He hugs the hat to his chest and rereads Mario's note several times, knowing that the brief warning was his brother's last words to him.

Luigi can do nothing but cry for the beloved brother he couldn't save, desperately wishing it was his warm, living and breathing body pressed to his chest rather than just a couple of his belongings.

But Mario is truly gone, apparently having met such a horrific fate that not even a single part of his body is left in the physical world.

[Good night]

…I'll leave the rest up to your imagination ;) Sorry if I got carried away with my description. Occasionally even I enjoy being a little dramatic, though I'm no writer whatsoever.

Yeah, I'm not apologizing for making this one - I was nicer to Luigi than to his bro, at least here the Mushroom Kingdom and everyone in it (except for Mario lol) is still okay!

But alas,

You can no longer play as Mario

Rest in spaghetti, funny wahoo man.

@federthenotsogreat I'm tagging you because you said you wanted more Mario art like I Was-a Too Late, thought you might like this one too!

@drones-of-innocence Also tagging you because you were interested in my idea.

Edit: Tagging a few more mutuals who might want to see this based on their reaction to my previous angsty work just in case, feel free to ignore. Or ask me to remove the tag if you want, no problem.

@silenzahra (remember, no rush) @c-lavanda @jell-o101 @stripetkattelalala54-gf

@luigixfanxayjay @itsavee4117

And you @giddlygoat just because you have a Luigi's Mansion AU and I thought you might appreciate this... Also because I'm a fan 👉👈

[reachartwork]

the process

a lot of people like to ask me about my process and how ai can be "creative" because they're under the impression that it's just kind of a big slot machine. you pull a lever and art uncontrollably comes out. well, let me show you my process

this is going to be a long thread tagged with #long post, blacklist that if you want to skip it.

so how it starts like most art is that i have an idea. in this case, earlier i made a post about witch-knights "surfing" on swords, so i'm going to try and make that - a witch-knight flying through the air atop one of her swords.

it starts with this picture.

i think this picture is dogshit so i discard basically all of it to try and find something closer to my original intent. there's a couple of uninteresting regenerations so it's clear i have to go back to the drawing board and teach the machine what it is i'm trying to do

let's start with a witch-knight on a broom. it's definitely not great but it gives us a better pose that i can work with.

i start by erasing the broom and replacing it with a skateboard - the machine understands skating better for what i need it to do.

there's a ton of small, subtle errors in this image and it overall looks like dogshit but the most important part right now is blocking and the overall pose structure - i need her "surfing" a large, lengthwise object, in the sky. i start by erasing pieces of the skateboard

now we have a sword, which is good. but the sword itself looks... bad. i'll spare you the abortive attempts at selective regeneration of the sword and just show you what happened when i rolled it back a couple of times from this pose and let it regen entirely.

again, tons of small little shitty errors, but this is something i can work with. i do another regen for a less shitty sword. her boob armor gets replaced with, like, generic scale mail.

this image has a great sword and decent pose but like... everything else is kind of futzy and i dont like it. instead of trying to pick and choose i just throw it back into the oven for a second. much better! but now she's going to cut herself on the sword, oh no!

again, i'll save you the agonizing thirty minutes of trying to get it to understand where the foot should go. unlike before i didn't really have a choice except to muscle through. there! now she's surfing safely :)

so it's done, right? well, i mean, i could post this. and it would probably do okay. but *i'm* not satisfied with it. there's stiffness. dozens of minor errors. the eyes look weird when you zoom in. let's start by fixing her hat, and then maybe her hands?

but she's missing fingers on her left hand so let's go ahead and fix that too. and i don't really like the tip of her sword and the ocean looks really flat and boring. so, VERY CAREFULLY, i have to etch out the parts of the sword and her body i have to keep, and also write an entirely new prompt to tell it "i want an ocean w/ rolling waves please :)"

this is better but not great. i try again - serendipitously, it makes this really cool variant with a shadow over the water, but i know working with that will take more wrangling so i'm considering it an evolutionary dead end and discarding it for now.

i proceed to spend 30 minutes trying to make the ocean look better but it's really not working imo. i'm gonna go back to the shadow version and see how that works

i'll spare you the other 8 minutes - i'm satisfied with the following picture. the sword isn't *perfectly* straight, her eyes aren't perfectly textured, the scale mail is... weird, in texture, but anything else would be greasing the wheel and i think beyond the machine's ability to do fine detail.

i've also attached the starting picture for comparison - it has better, "higher quality" clouds and ocean but i personally cared more about the pose and the sword surfing - the background is mostly tangential. could i get back ocean and clouds of that quality with another two hours of painstakingly cutting and re-generating bits of the background without destroying any of my existing work on the pose? probably. but i don't want to.

total time spent on this piece from start to finish was one hour and twenty one minutes. and now you know!

[genshinimpactlife]

I hope im not sending too many asks but- if you dont mind, could I request nsfw headcannons of a flirty and fun reader whos shy in the bedroom but with the daddies Zhongli, Alhaitham and Diluc? The first one i requested made me giggle and kick my legs so why not another -🥐

Flirty Fun Reader Who Is Shy In The Bedroom (NSFW)

After so many years since Zhongli last dated, it was difficult for him to keep up with you.

You were so vibrant and fun to be around, and you brought the youth back to Zhongli.

He is a classy guy, but after dealing with your flirting for so long, he's learned how to give it right back.

He can be quite sensual when he wants to be, saying things that swept you off your feet.

He had expected your vibrant and extroverted personality to translate into the bedroom as well.

But the moment Zhongli slipped his jacket off, standing at the edge of the bed as he towered over you, he quickly realized that wasn't the case.

You had such a deep blush on your cheeks, and you couldn't even look him in the eyes.

"Is something the matter?"

You shook your head no, but you couldn't articulate what was happening to you.

"Is my little Dove nervous?"

Zhongli would climb on top of you once undressed, caging you against the bed.

"Don't worry; I'll help you reach new highs that will make you forget about your nervousness."

Alhaitham loved your flirty and fun personality.

In public, he is more reserved, but when the two of you are alone, he matches your energy.

He is the biggest tease, and sometimes he even beats you to the punch.

One night he came up behind you, wrapping his arms around you from behind. He whispered sweet nothings into your ear, and before you knew it, the two of you were in his bedroom.

But you became flustered when he slipped his hands under your shirt.

Of course, he immediately noticed the flushed cheeks, the nervous fidgeting.

"Has my girlfriend been all talk this entire time?"

He couldn't help but chuckle as he trailed kisses down your neck and across your chest.

"You're so precious like this. I think I like this side of you, Doll."

Diluc was so awkward at first. He wasn't used to a personality like yours.

He would get so flustered when you would flirt with him in public. He didn't know how to handle it.

It wasn't until a few months of dating that Diluc started to loosen up. He started matching your flirty energy more often.

So when the two of you ended up glued together on the couch, and he saw how shy you became?

It was his time to shine.

No more flustered Diluc unable to keep up with you.

"Come on, show me that pretty face of yours."

He teased you a few times until you were practically stuttering; you were so embarrassed.

"I just can't help myself, all those times you flirted with me in public, knowing it embarrassed me."

After that night he had such a confidence boost. He never got flustered again by your flirty comments.

Chef kiss, i love Zhongli and Alhaitham so much, they are ultimate daddies. Someone needs to request a daddy kink next time my requests are open, I'll do it, no shame

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[bratphilia]

exposure (w. afton x reader)

note: as promised, it's here. also fun fact i have ocd and exposure therapy is one way used in my treatment. so i turned it into porn. enjoy! i will most definitely write a second chapter

pairing: steve raglan / william afton x reader

tags: corrupt therapist!william, innocent virgin!reader, manipulation, oral sex (f receiving)

your thoughts are interrupted as you hear a voice call your name. "hi," your therapist says, smiling kindly at you.

"hi steve." you return the smile and follow him to his office.

he opens the door for you and closes it behind him. you take a seat on the couch while he situates himself in the chair across from you. "so tell me, how are you doing? how are the meds working out?" 

"well, um," you start apprehensively. "that's kinda why i'm here to see you so soon. it's been a month and i don't think they're working."

steve gives you a faux look of concern, as if to say "oh no" and clicks his tongue. of course the meds aren't working. he handed you a low dosage of tylenol, a pain medicine, in an orange bottle without a label. any smart person would've found that suspicious — even more suspicious considering the fact that he's a therapist, not a psychiatrist. 

there's nothing wrong with you, either. you're just an innocent — rather dumb, in his opinion — girl with repressed sexual thoughts. thoughts he's been working his way up to helping you through them. 

"and the ache in your stomach is still there?" steve asks, just to make sure. 

you mumble an "mhm" embarrassed to look at him. he bites back a grin. "well, i have an idea."

you perk up at that. "ever heard of exposure therapy?" you shake your head 'no.' "it's a kind of therapeutic exercise that stresses the importance of facing the things that are giving you anxiety."

you stare at him blankly. of course you don't understand what he's saying. you're his dumb little girl, after all. 

"tell me, what are the symptoms you're having?" he asks. he wants you to say it — say that the root of your problems stem from overwhelming horniness, just as you've danced around saying in every session you've had with him.

you look down at your shoes. "well, uhm, there's this... tingle in my stomach. and the thoughts i'm having are... concerning to me. it's like i'm obsessed with..." 

you trail off and he raises an eyebrow. "...i guess what i'm trying to say is... i'm having really dirty thoughts. sometimes... they're about you.. or some men i see staring at me." 

steve tries his hardest to keep up the facade of a concerned therapist, but he can't deny how your words are going straight to his dick. "i see." 

"can you help me, steve?" you look at him with the most innocent, doe eyes he's ever seen. 

he cocks his head and smiles at you. "of course i can." he refrains from calling you 'sweet girl' — too unprofessional.

steve takes his spot on the couch next to you. he helps you situate your self so that you're leaning back. "can you spread your legs for me? you might want to take off your shoes for the sake of your own comfort."

your brows furrow and you do what he says hesitantly. you're wearing a cute, pastel blue sundress. when you bring your knees to your chest, spread just like he asked, he reaches to fold your dress over and reveals your white cotton panties. he could come in his pants from the sight alone.

you make a resistant noise when he reaches for your panties. "no one's ever touched me there..."

he already knows that. he can tell. but still, something about being the first one to break open that sweet cunt of yours fills him with even more desire. "i'll be gentle, okay?" he promises.

you nod your head and allow him to slide your panties down your legs, leaving them stretched near the bottom of your calves purposefully. it provides as a small restraint to you in case you squirm away from his touch. just as he expected, your pussy is red, swollen, and shiny with your slick. poor thing, he thinks.

steve brings a hand to run up and down your cunt, wanting to collect the slick gathered there. you moan and he feels you shiver. "th-that feels funny..."

"yeah?" he says before thumbing your clit. you let out a high pitched whine. his eyes move towards your face, fascinated with the way your eyes are fluttering.

"does that feel good?" he inquires, earning a "mhm" from you.

he picks up the tempo, rubbing the sensitive nub in circles with the rough pad of his thumb. you try to buck against his hand he brings his free arm to sling over your waist, halting your movements. "this won't work if you're moving like that. just let it happen, okay?"

"okay..." you murmur. it's easier said than done.

he stops rubbing at you. he has an even better idea. he leans down on his knees and kisses the spot his finger was just on. you let out a shocked "ah!" much to his dismay.

"gonna have to keep quiet or i'll stop," he says sternly. you promptly bring a hand to cover your mouth.

steve licks long, slow stripes up your cunt, flattening his tongue to cover as much as he can, gaging your reaction. your legs squirm but you can't move them much from the restraint the placement of your panties provide. he takes your bud into his mouth and suck at your clit, humming a little and shaking his head. you squeal against your palm and he pulls away, slapping your cunt.

"i told you to fucking stay quiet! you'll get us both in trouble," he scolds. it's a side of him you've never seen before. usually he's just so sweet to you. however, despite that, his tone sends a tingle in your tummy. you nod in obedience and allow him to continue.

he sticks his tongue inside you and it takes everything within you not to scream. he knows what he's doing too. the best part for him is watching you struggle. you wriggle around, desperately grasping at the firm fabric of the couch. he pulls his tongue out and kisses your clit once more.

"s-steve, i feel.. weird," you tell him, moving your hand for a moment.

"'s okay, just let it go. you'll feel better," he promises gently. his mouth encloses around your clit again and he slurps, flicking it rapidly with his tongue.

"ah, ah." you throw your head back and do what he says: release.

"mmm," he hums, lapping up what you give him.

"that was nice," you say once you catch your breath. "i really liked that. what kind of therapy is that called again?'

"exposure therapy," he lies. "how are the thoughts? are they still there?'

"no," you say in astonishment as you notice. "it's like my mind is all foggy right now? will it stay like that?"

"temporarily, we'll have to explore this some more at your next appointment. i'll make sure to bring something you can take home with you whenever those thoughts are disturbing you, alright?"

"alright."

next appointment. your heart soars. and the thoughts are back once more.

[runningfrom2am]

cold nights // part six

summary: all the stars aligned, and it was you.

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

wc: 2.7k

masterlists / nav / requests

tags/warnings: tribute!reader and mentor!coriolanus, r is very sweet (too kind for this world. literally.), sunshine x grumpy trope kinda, he falls first, violence typical for the source material, r is very smart (as she should), district twelve!reader.

a/n: i just finished writing s1, and we're halfway through! so in case anyone was wondering, s1 will have 12 parts :) i haven't started s2 yet but i am so excited to!!

series masterlist // playlist

Days passed, no sign of Coryo. The only reason you know he isn't dead is because Sejanus came and told you he would be alright. That didn't do much to quell your worries.

Selfishly, you were scared you wouldn't get to see him again. You knew you wouldn't, actually. Now you were truly alone. Just you and his blanket, the book he gave you, and the dress your mother made. And Sejanus Plinth, you supposed. None of the surviving tributes would even talk to you- not that you really felt like talking. Just reading. You've read and re-read Romeo and Juliet no less than three times since Coriolanus passed the book through the bars to you the night before you went into the arena.

"I know you asked for this, and it's a little early, but happy birthday." Coryo whispers, smiling as the dark of night encases the two of you into your own little world.

He hands you a small box, wrapped in parcel paper and complete with a ribbon made of some kind of knitting thread. You grin, taking it from his hand and carefully untying the bow, delicately pulling the paper apart where it's taped together so as not to rip it. A copy of Romeo and Juliet. Old, tattered, falling apart; well-loved.

"Oh, Coryo, you didn't have to give me anything. That's too sweet." You grin, immediately flipping through the pages despite the dark preventing you from seeing a single word. "Thank you."

"Of course." He says, watching only you as your eyes flick over the pages. What little light falls from the moon is reflected in your eyes, and he wouldn't dare look away.

"My bounty is as boundless as the sea, my love as deep; the more I give to thee, the more I have, for both are infinite." You say softly, and at first, he thinks you're talking to yourself until you look up at him. A small, almost shy smile fit perfectly onto your lips.

"You like it?" He asks, the answer obvious even to him.

"I love it."

You were his tribute. Not a friend, certainly not more, but as he reaches through the bars to let his fingers brush over your cheek all rational thought means nothing. He doesn't realize he's staring at your lips until you comment on it.

"Is this why you asked if I have a boyfriend?" You whisper, your natural smile returns, and he's quickly looking anywhere else. Your eyes, your hair, the spot where his fingertips meet your cheekbone just below your hairline. Anywhere else. "Because I know it wasn't on that list of questions."

He's quickly backtracking, dropping his hand. This was wrong and he knew it. "I, uh, Tigris made you some cake. It's not good, but it's the best we could do." He says, redirecting his attention to his bag as he pulls out the small paper bag.

You sit back, blushing furiously. "I'm sure it's delicious." You smile, and it comes across more nervously than you intended.

"Here." He hands it to you, and you gently place the book next to you on the ground so you don't get any crumbs on it. "I have to go. I'll see you tomorrow."

And just like that, he's gone.

You're grateful when you see Sejanus coming back with his bag of food and water. It had become some form of a routine, at this point. The citizens of the Capitol weren't allowed to bring you food anymore, he was the only one who did for you now that Coryo was gone, and now that his tribute had escaped as well.

"Sejanus." You smile, standing up as he gets closer.

"Y/N. Holding up okay?" He asks, a sad look behind his tired eyes. He looked almost as tired as you, you were sure, but you hadn't seen a mirror since you left your house before the reaping.

You sigh. "I'm holding up." You answer simply. Sejanus is the only person you feel comfortable being totally honest with, but at the same time, you don't want to because you know he already feels bad for what you're going through. He's the only one outside this cage who kind of understands. "How about you?"

"I'm alright." He shrugs, reaching into his bag and pulling out a sandwich for you. You could never get sick of these. "I also have salt, if it needs more of that." He hands you a small bag of table salt alongside it.

"Thank you." You grin, tucking the bag into your pocket incase you needed it. "Any news about Coryo?" You ask hopefully, taking a bite. You already feel your starvation-induced nausea fading away.

"Not really. He's recovering, though." Sejanus answers. "Are you ready for the interview tonight?"

"As ready as I'll ever be." You grin. "I was right, I didn't need the book. I already had the whole thing memorized, but it's been so lovely to get to read it again."

"It must be." He nods. "Gives you something to do."

You hum in agreement, looking around at the other tributes. No one is even moving much anymore. "Can I ask you something?"

"Anything."

You look down at your sandwich while you think about how you want to word this. "Is Coryo..." No, that's not it. "I got the feeling that he actually cared for me. Is that true?"

"Coryo has never been one to tell anyone what he's thinking." Sejanus says, entirely unhelpfully. That's not his fault, though. "But if I had to guess, I would say yes."

"I'm just wondering because it's nice to have friends now. Here. At the end." You smile sadly before taking another bite. "And I was worried I had upset him."

"You? No." Sejanus shakes his head. "I don't think you could if you tried."

"Why's that?"

"Well... It's hard to explain. He's always been super focused on school, on the prize, but now, when it matters most, I feel like he's more focused on you and making sure you actually win." He tells you. "But, like I said, he wouldn't talk about it even if I asked him outright."

You nod. "Thank you, Sejanus. For always being honest with me."

"Of course. It's the very least I can do, all things considered."

"Can I ask you for one more favour?" You ask hopefully. "If not I understand, you must be quite busy."

"I have the rest of my life to be busy." He shakes his head. "What do you need?"

"Will you tell Coryo thank you, for me?"

"Yes. Of course." He agrees without hesitation.

"And do you have a pencil and paper?"

Sejanus headed home for a while and then back to the hospital after his visit with you, armed with your note in his pocket to pass on to Coryo. He was hoping he would be awake right now, he had been so on and off the last few days. More grumpy than normal, and Sejanus could tell it was driving him up the wall that he couldn't go see you. But the interviews had already started, so he would get to see you soon- even if it's just through the screen.

"Tigris." He whispers, pulling back the curtain as he sees the familiar girl sitting at his friend's side. She hadn't left her cousin most of the time he'd been bedridden, she was there every time Sejanus checked in.

"Oh, hello." She whispers, smiling at him. "He's still resting, but he's feeling a bit better today I think."

"That's good. I'm glad to hear it." Sejanus agrees, taking the seat next to her. "I went to see Y/N. She's eaten. She doesn't look good, though."

Tigris nods, returning her gaze to her sleeping cousin and pushing his hair away from his eyes. It's not like he needs to see, but she would do it anyway. Just to make sure he wouldn't be annoyed when he woke up. "He's been worrying about her. I can tell."

"She asked me if she did something to upset him. Has he said anything to you?"

"No, nothing." She shakes her head, lip jutting out at the confusing statement. Nothing at all would indicate to her that he was upset with you, but it's entirely possible that stuck in that cage day in and day out you could quickly become paranoid about who you could trust.

"Okay, good. That's what I told her anyway." He tries to be quiet as he speaks, but the whispering wakes his friend anyway.

Coryo's eyes fly open and he gasps, eyes landing on the two of them sitting in front of him.

"Coryo," Tigris says softly, a small, worried smile on her face.

"Y/N?" He asks, his voice husky from sleep. "Is she-"

"She's alive," Tigris promises, gently rubbing his arm, landing her hand on his and squeezing it gently.

"Is she hurt?"

"Not badly." Sejanus shakes his head. "A few decent cuts and bruises, but she'll be okay. I brought her some antibiotics the other day so nothing will get infected." You won't be okay, they both know that, but you certainly wouldn't be dying from the minor injuries you sustained in the rebel bombing.

He nods, slightly, trying to sit up. "How long was I sleeping? What did I miss?"

"Another tribute died from injuries," Sejanus replies. "Everyone is still scared. No one will go see them anymore, I haven't seen any of the other mentors there either. But I've been feeding her. She's okay."

Coryo nods, wincing at the pain in his back as he moves. The burn was bad, but apparently, it was healing well.

"Marcus is still missing. I haven't heard anything about him. They're hunting him but I still think he has a better chance out there than he would tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" Coryo asks, rubbing his head with his free hand, Tigris still holding his other one. "They're still going ahead with the games?"

Sejanus just slightly shakes his head, looking away. Coryo knows that that is a yes.

"Oh no... Y/N.... She could've run," He mumbles. "But she saved me."

"I tried to convince her to. I did." Sejanus reminds him. "She wouldn't budge."

All heads turn as Lucky's voice on the TV catches their attention. "And now, our final tribute. I first met this young lady in the zoo not too long ago. From District Twelve, Y/N Y/L/N. Come on out here!"

Lucretius motions for you to step out onto the stage and you do, gently placing the book and the blanket you had brought with you on the floor in a neat pile before joining him.

"Lucretius." You smile. "It's good to see you." You're nervous in front of so many people, the audience in front of you is much larger than the small one you spoke in front of at the reaping, and being in front of a camera without Coryo by your side made you antsy.

"You as well, Darling. Now, I was told you had something you wanted to do for us so I'll just leave you to that. Charm us! Remember, the world is watching." He smiles, gently patting your shoulder before walking just out of view of the cameras. His statement was far from reassuring.

"Uhm..." You stare out at the audience, and suddenly you're scared you've forgotten the entire thing. You had to do well. For Coryo and his prize. He needed this. "I've become aware that not many people know this play." You chuckle, trying to hide your nervousness behind it. "But Romeo and Juliet has always held a special place in my heart and I want to share that with the world, before I go."

You take a deep breath, closing your eyes. You wonder if Coryo is watching. He's not here, you're sure of that, but you do hope he gets to see. And he does.

He stands up as soon as your face first appears on the screen, declining help from both Tigris and Sejanus as he limps over to the TV, cranking up the volume. Your fate depends on this, he knows it, but he can't look past the blue tint under your eyes and the bruises that litter almost every part of your exposed skin. The cuts are what get him the most. Your knuckles are cleaned up, mostly, but red and irritated as you twist your hands together nervously in front of you. Same with the crude black stitches on your upper arm. Irritated, neglected by professionals, but at least it wasn't serious.

"Come on... You can do it." He mumbles mostly to himself, and Tigris reaches up to place a reassuring hand on his shoulder as the three of them watch.

"O Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo?" Immediately, he is confused. He expected to be, of course, but he could also tell as soon as you started reciting it, after the first line, your confidence was coming back to you. This play was your safe space.

"Deny thy father and refuse thy name. Or if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love; and I'll no longer be a Capulet." You look out at the silent audience as you speak, a smile forming on your lips. They're listening. "'Tis but thy name that is my enemy: Thou art thyself, though not a Montague."

Coryo is wishing you had explained more to him about what this play is about. "What's Montague? It is nor hand nor foot, nor arm nor face nor any other part belonging to a man. Oh, be some other name." He should have asked. Why didn't he ask? You told him yourself that you could talk about it for hours. Why didn't he take advantage of that when he had the chance?

"What's in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet; so Romeo would, were he not Romeo call'd, retain that dear perfection which he owes without that title." A rose. Of course a rose, was this for him? He longed to understand it better as he watched the donations tracker tick up and up toward the thousands.

"Romeo, doff thy name, And for that name, which is no part of thee," You take a deep breath for the first time since you started speaking. "Take all myself."

It was a beat or two before the audience clued in that you were done, and then the cheers started. A standing ovation, people wiping their eyes and clapping for you like you had changed their lives.

"Wow! Now wasn't that something, everyone!" Lucky laughs, coming back into the frame of Coryo's view from the camera. Tigris was in tears. The continual uptick of the donations counter was reassuring to him. As you smiled, cheeks flushing red. "The donations are just flooding in with a record high! That must feel good."

"Thank you, it does." You nod at Lucky, trying to place all your focus on him so you don't get too embarrassed in front of the crowd. At least you knew Coryo would be pleased. If you understood his prize situation as well as you thought you did, this was very good for him. "I just want to make my family and my mentor proud."

"You have a real talent. It's such a shame." The host says to you and you laugh awkwardly.

"Well, everyone loves something. I just loved books."

You continually referring to yourself in the past tense makes Coryo want to puke, looking away from the screen only briefly to take in the other nurses and patients watching too.

"We have just a few moments left, but I need to know, what is that about?"

"Oh! Well, Romeo and Juliet is a tragedy." You explain, back to yourself again. "It's about two star-crossed lovers from feuding families. So, what Juliet was talking about, to put it very simply because I could go on and on about this, was that she loved Romeo for who he was- not just his name or his family. It didn't matter to her that they came from different places. She loves him anyway, and if he couldn't let go of his family, she would give up her own life for him."

Coryo's eyes widen. So it was about him. He can't help the tug on his lips that threatens to form a smile.

"Alrighty then, that's very sweet." Lucky replies. "Now, you said it's a tragedy. What is so tragic about a love story?"

"Well," You chuckle nervously. "They both die at the end."

taglist: @soulessjourney, @keziahcore, @that-veela-girl, @motorsport, @dreamyysouls, @rockstarbfs, @Lanadelrey3, @rawrmameh, @3zae-zae3, @babyspice6, @pastel0rchid, @maysileeewrites, @articxari, @Urfavpouge, @Multivitaminfy, @baybieruth, @kitscutie, @annaelise, @serrendiipty, @fratboyharrysgf0201, @totallynotkaibiased, @stelleduarte, @klplynn, @secretsicanthideanymore, @bejeweledreverie, @fals3-g0d, @drewsandsebastianswife, @niicole-87, @queenofshinigamis, @innercreationflower, @nallasstuff, @spring-goddess1, @baybieruth, @lovelyxtom, @throughgoeshxmilton, @enwonie, @scorpiolystoned, @iovemoonyy, @kodzuvk, @soupasoup, @eedwardss, @thatmarvelchick19, @wearemadeofstardust0, @regulusblackcore, @kbakery , @qardasngan, @omgsuperstarg, @kuroosbby001, @puredreamagination, @fantasticchaosthing, @coolcatyarb, @yokolesbianism, @becauseseaotters, @KimmiB13

if your user has a strikethrough i wasn't able to tag you! i'm so sorry!

[phyrestartr]

PR Stunt (Only, Right?) | Sukuna/M!Reader | Teaser!

#NSFW in full, bottom!reader, top!sukuna, Sukuna owns a body shop, reader is a performer, kinda meet cute, ABO dynamics, mpreg, yes there are always babies involved because i love dad sukuna, surprise baby, sukuna is a dickhead (what else is new), teaser not edited lmao

Note: This is just going to be a one-shot since it's already pretty much completed, just need to finish off the tail end and then go back and edit. Wanted a break from writing the other stories for a bit, so I hope you'll enjoy the full story when it's out

tags: @better-imagination-9 @better-imagination-9

“Did you sleep with (L. Name) (F. Name)?” 

The question caught Sukuna off guard; normally, Uraume didn't inquire into his personal life in regards to who he had and hadn't slept with. They were a friend, yes, but moreover they were the bookkeeper and helped with securing clients and arranging meetings–celebrities and their managers were fucks that Sukuna didn't like negotiating with. Best to leave the yapping to someone with a cooler head.

“Where the hell did that come from?” Sukuna asked as he rolled out from under the newest commissioned vehicle. 

Uraume walked to him, iPad in hand, and turned it to him, stone cold. 

Sukuna sat up straighter and squinted at the screen, annoyed. You’d probably just made up some salacious rumour and spread it throughout your friend circles; or worse, you wanted revenge on him for something he probably definitely did. In that case, Sukuna could somewhat understand. But still–

(Name) putting on weight? What’s happening to the former bombshell babe of Japan?!

Pregnant with a baby boy?! The secret's out!

(Name) returns to the stage after giving birth to a baby boy–but who is the father?

(Name) driving a Ryoumen Sukuna rescue vehicle?! Could he be the deadbeat dad we've been looking for?

Sukuna sucked his teeth after skimming over the article titles presented to him. 

“...No proof.” 

“Ah. Then please explain this,” Uraume requested, still polite as ever, as they flicked to an additional few images the scumbag paparazzi had caught of you. 

One was the car mentioned. Sukuna remembered it like it was yesterday–the joy of restoring a Porsche 911 back into its former glory was unmatched. You happily paid for all the parts and too often swung by to see the progress being made on the old thing. Obviously, Sukuna was more than happy to oblige. 

The next was of you holding a little nugget of a baby against your chest as you walked down a street in Shibuya. Nothing too damning, nothing too inspirational. 

But the last one–

“The fuck?” Sukuna mumbled as he snatched the iPad from Uraume’s hands and zoomed in on the now-toddler sitting with you in that damn Porsche, grinning brightly beside his mum while you ruffled his hair. His very, very pink hair. 

Sukuna took a breath while he thought. He didn't have to think too hard, though, not when he still dreamed about you and the short-lived fling between the two of you. 

“A Porsche 911, huh?” Sukuna grinned as he looked over the beat up, rusted beater of a car. He could still see scraps of its former glory, of the beautiful thing she used to be. Heaven knows she would've become an irreparable hunk of junk if you hadn't bought it from a scrapyard. 

“Yep.” You beamed. “So you think you can make her pretty again?” 

“You kidding? I'd pay you to let me fix this thing, baby.” Sukuna caught sight of your security stepping forward, but you waved them off without a second thought. 

Sukuna smirked. “But it’s not gonna be cheap.” 

You nodded. “Well, do what you have to. I'll pay whatever you need, handsome.” 

“Yeah?” Sukuna asked, looking your neatly-manicured appearance up and down; you were dressed like you were meeting someone of great importance (and  you were, obviously), with your hair groomed perfectly, outfit fit for a premiere, skin flawless. 

“Mhm. And I tip well.” you looked him up and down in kind, grinning as you bit at the nub of your sunglasses.

“Done.” 

Every time you came to check on his progress, genuine excitement flooding in your motormouthed Words, you'd go home with him and fuck him silly. 

And now, you were the momma to his baby. Allegedly. 

“I–so what the fuck does this have to do with anything?” Sukuna ran a frustrated hand through his hair after Uraume took the tablet back. “Bitch isn't asking for anything, he's not asking me to be his public fucking baby daddy, not asking me to pay for nothing?” 

“No,” Uraume conceded, “But he and his PR managers have reached out concerning this.” 

The man groaned and stood. “Fucking hell. Can't stand fucking PR teams. Thw fuck did they want?” 

“They want to make a statement about Touma's father.” 

Sukuna froze.

“Touma's a good name for a boy, right?” 

You asked the question so suddenly, so out of nowhere in the quiet of the afterglow. The city lights sparkled and winked at you both through the towering windows keeping you safe from the outside world. In hindsight, Sukuna would wonder if the city was excited for him. For you. 

“What, for a mutt?” Sukuna drawled, puffing on a blunt while he played with your hair and drowned in the tingles left in the wake of fingers drawing circles on his bare chest. 

“For a kid,” you chastised With a laugh. “I like Touma. Or Touka for a girl. Ayato's nice, too. Maybe Kazue.” 

“You better not be pregnant.”

“I'm not, I'm not. I'm just getting baby fever, I guess.” You hummed and left a sweet kiss against his tan skin. “I guess being around a big, bad boy like you's got me feeling domestic.” 

Sukuna laughed, dazed and happy. “You wanna ruin this pretty lil’ body for a fucking kid? Be my guest. Just don't come looking for a booty call after you've ruined yourself like that.” 

“Oh, don't worry,” you cooed. “I won't.” 

Man. Man. 

“A statement.” 

“In other words–”

“I'm not the fucking father.” 

“This might be a good way to get Yorozu off your case,” Uraume suggested, and Sukuna perked up. 

“Right. She fuckin’ hates kids.” 

“So, if you were to have a son, and it's revealed you've been quietly trying to make things work behind the scenes with (Name), then hypothetically–”

“I'll take the runt.”

[ssaaaronmontgomery]

Mon I think Aaron got a pair of old man (dilf) style reading glasses and at first he’s embarrassed to wear them with the team bc he knows Morgan or Dave will tell him he’s getting old BUT when he wears them at work he notices you get unable to focus in the team meeting and you’re all dazed basically until he takes them off and tucks them away but bonus point that this interaction makes him feel very desired and wanted 😵‍💫 and maybe he’ll show them off to you in private later 🤫

The Glasses

Warnings: Pining?? Sort of?? Maybe idk. Nothing smutty but there are some implications. This is like borderline nsfw? Maybe??

Word count: 1.1k

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x gn!bau!reader

A/n: Omg yes. We love dilf glasses on Hotch. He already looks so pretty and desirable but something about glasses on him is different and I need it. I wouldn't say this fic is necessarily nsfw. But I might be willing to write a part two where it becomes smutty. I'll leave this as sfw unless I come to the conclusion that it should be marked otherwise.

Tags: @criminalskies

Forever tags: @greg-montgomery @boredelle

You're completely distracted and it's all his fault. Him and his downright slutty glasses. The first time you saw him wearing them it was a very brief sighting as he had taken them off after just a few seconds of you being in the room. And ever since then you craved to see him wearing those glasses again. They often made an appearance in some of the very inappropriate fantasies you have about your boss. They'd even worked their way into your dreams at night.

The case the team is currently working has been dragging on for a couple of days now and you've gotten basically nowhere with it. The fact that you're sitting across from Hotch as he reads a file with his glasses on is not helping you concentrate on the case in the slightest. And it's stirring something up deep inside you the more you stare at him. Aaron wearing those glasses and looking all serious as he reads is making you very horny if you're being totally honest.

"Y/l/n? Y/l/n. Y/n." You hear Hotch speak your name in a stern tone and you feel his hand grasp yours and he squeezes it. You snap out of your trance. "Hmm? Yeah, what is it, Hotch?" He furrows his brows as he looks at you and pulls his hand away now that he has your attention. "Are you okay? You've been distracted. Every time we sit here looking through files, you seem to be distracted. Is something going on? Are you alright?" Concern is clear in his voice.

What you want to say is "No, I'm not alright. I'm horny and it's your fault because you're wearing dilf glasses that make me want you more than ever. You're very distracting and if you don't put them away right now I'll launch myself over this table and kiss you before dragging you to my hotel room." But you figure that's not really the best thing to say to your boss right now. So you settle for giving him a smile and a nod before looking back down at the file in front of you as you try to force yourself not to look at the beautiful man sitting across from you.

You stare down at the papers but even though you're not looking at him anymore, you still aren't actually focusing on the words on the page because you're so concentrated on not looking back up at Hotch to steal another glance at those glasses. Though eventually you can't help it and do it anyway. You can't really stop yourself as you look back to him.

The glasses perched on the bridge of his nose as he scowles down at his papers. You sigh out loudly by accident. No one else is really paying attention to you aside from Emily and Derek sending each other smirks when they notice just why you're so out of it. But the loud sigh makes Aaron look at you again. His glasses are down far enough that he's looking over the top of them to make eye contact with you.

"Y/n, are you sure you're fine?" He asks, sounding even more concerned now.

"What? Yeah, I'm fine. Just a bit tired is all."

He stays silent as he observes you for a moment before nodding and going back to his reading.

This continues as the team starts throwing ideas around. Aaron keeps an eye on you throughout it and he knows your excuse of being tired, while partially true, is definitely not the main reason for your behaviour and he just can't pinpoint exactly what it is. But he realises it must have something to do with him as you can't keep your eyes off of him, and only him. You're not having this problem with any of the other team members. Not Derek, not JJ, not anyone but him.

He goes back to your previous statement about being tired once everyone goes back to sifting through the numerous number of old reports and files from the precinct as you all try to come up with a group of suspects.

Hotch speaks up when he feels your eyes on him again. "Would you like me to get you a coffee? I know what they have here isn't very good, but it might wake you up a bit." He glances up at you as he waits for your response. "Yeah, sure. That's probably just what I need."

He nods and stands, in the process he removes his glasses and sets them down on the table. He notices how your eyes follow the glasses and that's when pieces start coming together in his mind. He figures he'll test it out when he comes back.

He leaves and comes back a few minutes later with your cup of coffee and sets it down in front of you. You thank him and he nods then sitting back down. This time, leaving his glasses off. In fact, he actually puts them away so they're out of sight entirely.

This seems to change things. You're more focused on the work. You still give him the occasional glance but you're not full on staring at him with drool practically spilling out of your mouth like you had been earlier.

He leaves the glasses put away and he tries his best to read without them like he used to. He'd known he had needed glasses long ago but he refused to wear them because he didn't want his age to show. He knew he would get some teasing remarks about it from Dave and Morgan. But eventually, it got to the point where he could hardly do the reading part of his job. So he reluctantly had his eyes checked and soon he was wearing glasses that made it far easier to read.

He didn't like the glasses in the slightest. They made him feel old and he didn't like that. But the way you looked at him when he was wearing them, that did something to him. It made him want to wear them.

Unable to work without them, he gets them back out and puts them on. It's hard not to notice the way you immediately look back up from your work. He pretends not to see it.

Over the next half hour you can't help but watch him like he's the most interesting thing you've ever seen. You're fixated on him. And now he is sure it's the glasses that are doing it. He has to bite back a smile. Knowing you apparently find him so attractive with them on makes him feel good inside. He doesn't understand why you would like it, but it's extremely clear that it's doing something for you. He's tempted to show up at your hotel room later to explore this further and see just how much you like them.

[myveryownfanfiction]

18+ MINORS AND THOSE WITHOUT AGE IN BIO DNI

tags: @eclecticwildflowers, @illiana-mystery

warnings: break in, swearing

I sat on my couch, wringing my hands. Police officers milled around my apartment, going through my belongings and taking pictures of the chaos that I had come home to.

"(Y/N)?" I looked up to see Sergeant Grey standing over me. I nodded and he sat down on the couch next to me. "How are you holding up?" I shrugged.

"It's all a bit much." I admitted as I looked around at everyone. "I didn't realize that a simple break in would bring all this here." I waved my hand absently around me. Grey nodded.

"I know. If you aren't used to it..." Grey was cut off by the sound of the door swinging back open. We both turned to look at Tim standing in my doorway, eyes frantically sweeping over the room. We locked eyes and Tim's shoulders visibly sagged as he made his way into the apartment. He weaved through the other officers until he reached the couch. Tim sank to his knees in front of me and reached for my hands. Squeezing them, he kissed the back of my knuckles.

"Everything alright here?" He asked Grey without taking his eyes off me. Grey nodded.

"Break in." Grey said. "(Y/N) came back and found the apartment the way you see it now. Called the station and we came out." Tim glanced over at Grey before swapping seats with Grey. "Tim, I don't want you on this case." Tim looked up at him and went to open his mouth. "You stay with (Y/N). They need you more than we do right now. I'll call you if that changes but stay here. Take the rest of the day off." Tim hesitated and I squeezed his hand.

"Tim. Listen to Grey." I whispered as I scooted closer to him. "They have everything under control." I flinched as a crash was heard from the direction of my office.

"I'll go check on that." Grey said with a sigh and a murderous look on his face.

"Are you sure you are ok?" Tim asked as Grey left. I nodded.

"I wasn't here when it happened." I assured him. "Just in shock." Tim nodded as he let go of my hands and ushered me into his arms. "This is incredibly overwhelming." I whispered. Tim nodded as he leaned his head against mine. I made a noise of discomfort and Tim pulled back.

"Sorry. I'll turn this off." He reached down and turned off his body cam before taking it off. "Give me two minutes. I'm going to give this to Grey." Kissing my head, Tim got up and headed towards the office. I wrapped my arms around myself as I waited for him to come back. "A picture fell. That was the crash." Tim said as he sat back down and pulled me against him.

"Which picture?" I asked absently as I played with the buttons on his shirt. Tim grimaced.

"That one from Lopez's wedding." I closed my eyes and sighed, leaning fully into Tim.

"Is the picture alright at least?" Tim nodded as he put his chin on top of my head.

"Yeah." He confirmed. "Grey said he would replace the glass and the frame if you wanted." I shrugged and wrapped my arms around Tim. We stayed like that while everyone started to pack up and leave. Tim lifted his head off mine as Grey came back. "I'll take care of it." Tim whispered as I pulled away. I nodded as my eyes scanned the room, trying to figure out what I could take care of tonight and what could wait until later. I got up and started to fix up the kitchen, making it easier to use it in case we decided not to just order out after all of this. Tim walked back over and hugged me from behind.

"Everything alright?" I asked. Tim sighed behind me.

"You need to pack a bag." He admitted. "Grey has reason to believe that the person might come back. He also doesn't want you touching anything right now." I nodded and broke away to grab a bag. "I'd also feel a lot better if you were with me at my place." Tim said as he watched me shift through the disaster area that was my room.

"I think I'd feel a lot better there too." I admitted as I hoisted the bag over my shoulder and made my way back over to Tim. Taking his hand, I followed him down to where his truck was parked out front. "Grey must have brought it over." I mused as I got in. Tim nodded as he reached over and took my hand before driving to his place.

[loveandleases]

Full Disclosure, I went through PAGES of tags to find the Pregnant-by-Chris!MC asks so I could revisit the angst, and it also got me wondering. How would the ROs react if MC ended up pregnant with their kid? And with regards to the F!ROs and trans ROs, how would they react if THEY got pregnant by MC? I'm down with this going in a fluffy or angsty direction, as you gathered from my search for the previous asks about it, so answer however you like!

Oh noo. I swear I'll get to work on the masterpost so you can find things easier, it's been a long time coming and I need to stop procrastinating. I feel like I did this ask before...but I'm not positive. So I'll do it again with how the RO's have developed. Below the cut~ (Tagged with pregnancy for those who don't want to read.)

❤️ Cam - Ec-fucking-static. At first. Cam would be so pleased because finally his own family. Not that MC and Em weren't already. He would give all of his love to his child, unlike what he got from his parents. Then there would be the problem. What if he's just like his parents? What if he's unable to love them the way they need or support them when they need it. MC would have to have an honest heart-to-heart with him.

💙 G - Very nervous at first. There are a lot of things to consider such as school and childbirth. Is their current living space even safe for a kid? And what if MC or G has more than one kid, it's possible. G would need a bit to kind of come to terms with it. Once they have, G is golden. They're happy and don't bother to try and hide behind their cool demeanor.

Now if ex-G/MC had gotten pregnant. It would be so painful for them, because would MC want to be in the picture or would MC allow them to be. If the breakup still happened and MC had gotten with Chris, G would fight with everything they have to see their child, or to give MC the chance to see them. (it's bittersweet)

💚 Kara - So she would be scared more than anything. Happy comes way later, once she's sure this is what she wants. Because for Kara, she doesn't really get to make her own decisions so much of her life is decided for her. If her first real big decision is having a kid, she's going to ace it. First off by having a chat with her parents (who would to overstep), then MC's parents. About what is allowed and isn't. The grandparents don't get to dictate the pregnancy, the childbirth, the child. If they want to be involved then they will be expected to abide by Kara and MC's wishes or be cut out. That simple. (She will buy too many baby clothes ahead of time, it will be a problem)

💛 M - What!? Excuse you, whose pregnant? With a baby? Like an actual human being? How did this happen!? (This is M's reaction regardless of whose pregnant. )MC has to remind shocked M how in fact that did happen. In which case M turns blood red and refuses to look at MC until they've calmed down.) M is going to go through 5 stages. 1 being shock, 2 being really shocked 3 understanding 4 go back and repeat step 1, 2 and 3. 5 acceptance. Leading them all the way to joy. M will take a good bit before they get through those steps, but when they do they're happy, nervous but happy. M isn't sure how to deal with kids. If they have one should they just go ahead and have another too? M will want to call their mothers' immediately. Get some info about raising a kid and what to expect. They will order far too many books about kids and what to expect when you're expecting. (take their computer for their own good)

💜 Isaac - They very well might have a breakdown, and it's not due to not wanting to have a kid with MC. It's more of knowing that you're not promised forever, as someone who lost their mother. Isaac is going to take it hard. Because she will never get to see her grandchild, and Isaac will never get to have that moment with her. Now onto how they feel outside of that, Isaac will struggle. Because they realize they have something else to lose, and to someone who is afraid of committing due to that it's not an easy situation to be in. They would need reassurance, that this is what MC wants. That they'll work hard, and together will do their best for their child. Isaac wants to be there for everything, every checkup, every milestone. All of it. Proudest parent ever.

🖤 Ardent - The amount of breeding jokes to be told : 14. The amount of tears shed: Over 50. Which he will deny with every breath. They're happy tears. Happy to have a family with MC, happy for his niece to have a cousin to navigate the world with. He is too happy, so cocky. Rubbing MC's belly, giving it so many kisses. He did that, him! Can you believe it? Not to mention, Cupid is going to have to take classes now. That's the first step, Cupid learning how to behave around babies. Ardent is very big into reading, he will overread though. Like MC is going to learn the nitty gritty just like he is. Oh, and they'll probably have to move if they're currently living in the apartments. To a place with an actual yard, the kind his parents had back in Greece. MC will be spoiled, because Ardent will cook every meal. He will ensure MC doesn't have to life a finger, or even Cupid if they feel like they can't. He would be a great dad, plus he has been saving up dad jokes. I apologize ahead of time.