#it's the type of thing i read and i can feel it shift the way im going to perceive the rest of the day

[lilianne-tarot]

PICK-A-CARD: What's your lowkey powerful move? ˚୨୧⋆.˚

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I. II. III.

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Hey there! Welcome to another PAC reading on my blog page—I hope you all enjoy it! Comment down what you felt about the reading and if it resonated with you and show some love, Your support means everything to me!<3 How to Pick Your Pile: Take a deep breath, clear your mind, and look at the images below. Which one pulls you in the most? Trust your gut! Once you choose the image, The number below your chosen image is your pile. If more than one catches your eye, that just means there’s extra tea for you—go ahead and read both!

get your own personalized paid reading here! it would really help me out!😊🦋

My KO-FI link: HERE! 🫶🏻

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⋆˙⟡Pile I

Ohhh, bestie, this spread is JUICY. I can already feel the energy radiating off these cards. So, the Ace of Pentacles is giving “I walk in, and the room shifts” vibes, maybe some of yall even feel that thing. people see you as someone who knows how to manifest real, concrete results. You give off that effortless “I make things happen” energy, and the wild part? Half the time, you don’t even have to announce it. You just move in silence, and suddenly, things start aligning in your favor. It’s like you have a golden touch, and people feel that. Now, here’s where it gets interesting—because the Magician reversed is shaking things up. Normally, the Magician is that “I have all the tools, I can do anything” card, but reversed? This is the art of the illusion. You have this insane ability to make things look effortless when, in reality, there’s a whole strategy behind it. nobody ever fully understands how you do it. Are you lucky? Are you secretly a mastermind? Do you have some divine favor that keeps you ahead? (👀 Spoiler alert: it’s all of the above.) this spread overall screams natural-born leader—you don’t even have to try to command attention, you just do, some of yall have held some major leader position in their lives, maybe in school or in now in your work space. What keeps people thinking about you? It’s the way you exude confidence in a way that’s not cocky, but magnetic. You have presence. You don’t need to brag, you don’t need to prove yourself, and you definitely don’t need outside validation. yall seem to be really secure in yourselves. but I would def say, Some people may even wonder if you’re manipulative, or if you’ve got some sort of secret advantage. People admire you, but they also lowkey fear you—because not everyone can handle someone who just moves differently.

This is the kind of energy that leaves ex-friends and past situationships wondering if they fumbled the bag . So keep doing what you’re doing, because this is powerful energy. Now tell me, does this reading not scream “you”? Because I feel like I just exposed your entire aura rn. 😂🔥

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⋆˙⟡Pile II

first of all i was so shocked when I saw all cards of this deck was cups. we’re not just talking about leaving a cute impression on people. This is some straight-up, ‘I met them once, and now they live rent-free in my head’ type of impact. Let’s break it down. Your Vibe? Ethereal, Emotionally Addictive, Unforgettable. Look, not everyone has the ability to make people feel something so intensely that they’re out here journaling about it six months later, you're that airport crush of people 😭.You are that person. The Knight of Cups, Queen of Cups, and Six of Cups together? Ohhh, this is emotional witchcraft. You have this almost cinematic energy—people don’t just remember you, they replay you like their favourite movie scene. It’s like you’re the embodiment of a nostalgic song that makes them stare out of the window like they’re in a music video. You’re not trying to be unforgettable—you just are. People feel safe with you, seen by you, and understood by you. And that?? That’s rare as hell in a world full of surface-level interactions(cmon we all what a pile 2 person in our life) . This also tells me your impact isn’t just strong—it’s lasting. People don’t move on from you quickly. Even if they don’t see you for years, something will trigger a memory of you (a song, a scent, a random moment), and suddenly, boom—there you are, sitting pretty in their mind like you never left.

people always remember you anyway. It’s not about being the loudest in the room—it’s about how deeply you made them feel something. And let’s be real: people forget words, but they never forget emotions. You might not even realize the weight of your presence until years later, when someone confesses, “You changed my life and didn’t even know it.”

So yeah, your power move? You leave emotional fingerprints on people’s souls. And the gag is? You don’t even have to try. 🤷‍♀️

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⋆˙⟡Pile III

They’re screaming depth, and an almost frustratingly intriguing energy. Like, people think they know you, but then you do or say something that makes them go, “Wait… who are you, actually?” And that question? That is why people cannot get you out of their heads.

Let’s talk about The Hanged Man sitting right in the middle—because that’s the core of your vibe. You don’t operate on the same wavelength as everyone else. Your energy is like when you’re watching a thriller, and the main character does something weird, and you just know there's a deeper reason, but you won’t find out until the end. You have this eerie, compelling stillness that makes people want to decode you. Then we have The Moon along with the hanged man, which? Chef’s kiss—because now we’re getting into that dreamy, slightly chaotic, almost unreal quality about you. You give people just enough to feel like they’re getting closer to understanding you… only for them to realize they have no idea what’s real and what’s projection. People get lost in their own assumptions about you. They see what they want to see, not necessarily who you actually are. (💀 Tell me why this feels like exactly the kind of energy that makes exes spiral at 3 AM, trying to figure out why they still don’t understand you.)You don’t need to flex your growth because by the time people catch on, you’re already five steps ahead. There’s something almost intimidating about how quietly powerful you are. Like, you might not even realize how often people compare themselves to you. You make people feel like they need to level up—but they’ll never admit you were their motivation.

Listen, you’re not just memorable—you’re the unresolved mystery in someone’s story. The “what if,” the “I never quite figured them out,” the “damn, I wish I could talk to them one more time.” People replay their interactions with you because they feel like they missed something. You don’t just linger in their mind—you haunt it. And the best part? You don’t even try. You don’t have to force an impact, you don’t need attention—you just exist in a way that makes people feel like they almost got close to understanding you… but never fully did. And that? That’s the kind of unforgettable energy that lives rent-free in people's minds forever.

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Thank you so much for reading all the way through! I hope my reading resonated with you and that you had a lovely time going through it. If you enjoyed it, please like and reblog—it really means a lot! Let me know which pile you chose; I absolutely love hearing your thoughts and feedback on my readings! ♡

Note: tarot cards provide guidance and possible insights into what could happen based on current energies, thoughts, and actions. the cards can highlight potential paths or outcomes, but they do not predict the future in a fixed way. this is a general reading so take what resonates!

[anemoiashifts]

what your s/o thinks about you !

+ your relationship

choose a painting above.

💌

disclaimer !! please don’t force messages to fit. i do a ton of readings & im sure if this one doesn’t fit, you will find one eventually that resonates. this is just a general reading :) ! ps this is also primarily for people who have not shifted yet but that doesn’t mean people who have shifted can’t get some insight on how their s/o feels about them !

sorry this reading is so late. i was on top of my game by posting this on the first of the month for a while. anywho ! happy late valentine’s day. may you consume all the gourmet chocolate & watch all the cheesy 2000’s strait to dvd romance movies you can find. sending you all a virtual bouquet of flowers. rose ? tulips ? your choice.

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🕊️ | dear pile one,

quite honestly based on the cards i pulled, your s/o puts you on a pedestal more then anything. they love that analytical, take nothing at face value aspect of you. while they celebrate it, they see it can become your detriment too. overthinking your every action, going “frame by frame” in life, can be tiring. you have a tendency to keep stuff in to appease others & not rock the boat, which they pick up on more then you think they do. this is someone intuitive & can sense your emotional wellbeing as if it was sentient. they want you to come to them. a caregiver at heart, wanting to soothe any insecurity or worry that floats around in the back of your head. while they may be awkward & stiff with their approach, they mean well despite struggle to execute the touchy-feely aspect to your relationship. they’re not as open as you are when it comes to emotions or trusting others. they’ve been burned in the past & for some of you that could mean literally. they’re the silent, sitting in a dark corner, the people watching type. they appreciate your input & how you always seem to open their eyes to new perspectives that they’d never come up with themselves which pulls them out of their funk.

the both of you make up a wing of a phoenix, always rising from the ashes of whatever hardship you may be facing together. the two of you are riddled with self doubts at times, teaching each other how to heal from trauma or let things go once & for all.

in summary with a few extra details ? they love you. like i said they see you as this light which they are not worthy of. with these last two cards & pure vibes im getting the picture that they had this perfectly curated “cool” aesthetic image to anyone looking in on them & when you came around that was shattered, leaving them vulnerable & scrambling to put the pieces back with old chewing gum & popsicle sticks. this person has a tendency to be secretive. never sneaky. not like hiding their phone screen or anything. more like not telling you things to upkeep that image they so desperately want for themselves. could be all smokes & mirrors to hide what’s really going on or maybe they just want you to think highly of them, the same way they think of you.

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚.

🐩 | dear pile two,

they like to keep it light with you. it’s giving cat & mouse. on & off but you always end up together. a class project, a seating arrangement. you just look good together, aesthetically.

this person likes to pretend they’re nonchalant & don’t care as much as they really do. unlike pile one, they feel like they have nothing to hide from you. you’re both open books with one another. you have been to the depths of hell & the highest of heavens together. it.

they can get a little short & irritated. nothing a throwing a table lamp at a wall won’t fix, usually. not the best of methods to let out some steam but know none of that is directed at you. anger issues are very much present within this person. why this is relevant is because it impacts your relationship more then this person will ever admit. they have a vision, having carefully crafted a plan before you came into the picture & now that you’ve stumbled into their life it’s setting everything ablaze. a workaholic who is now scrambling carefully combing through their prospects & goals to make accommodations in the margins for your presence & that scares them sometimes. at times embarrassed that you have this imaginary grip on every aspect of their life. they want to buy a new car ? what’s your favorite color ? they’re hungry ? they’ll stop at your favorite place as an excuse to bring you your favorite dessert. they somehow hold everything together really well considering the unnecessary stress they put on themselves.

expect late nights & going to bed alone. when morning comes, arising with a bouquet of flowers being delicately placed on your bedside table with a handwritten note. chances are they’re probably in the kitchen doing the dishes you were to lazy to do the night prior. their love langue is very much acts of service. they really really do care. going to the ends of the earth to bring you your simplest of desires. weather that be leonardo da vinci's "salvator mundi” or a pair of shoes you saw in a vintage fashion magazine yesterday. it will show up perfectly perched on your bed on a random tuesday as a just because.

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚.

🐇 | dear pile three,

deep, intense spiritual connection. literal fireworks erupt when you first locked eyes with them. you’re in tune with others emotions & can physically feel what the other feels. you’ve spent past lives together. very high school cheerleader x football player in a 90’s romcom. a slight delay in actually dating or tying the knot. the whole friends to lovers pipeline may be in the cards for you. at the very least, a slow burn type romance.

you two could’ve met traveling. maybe that’s something they do for work ? nonetheless, they seem very artistic. having a sketch book filled with drawings of you & your favorite things. a secret poet who writes poems about you & puts little hearts around your name like a lovesick school girl. a photographer who takes your photograph when you least expect it. not in a creepy way. they just like to look at you. except them to pick you up little things off the ground and present them to you like a small child. they like collecting rocks & see a really shiny one on the ground ? congratulations you are now a proud shiny rock owner ! they’re very sentimental & thoughtful like that. someone who has a little box of every item you’ve ever given them no matter how minuscule. you’re their home, which could’ve been something they’ve never had before & neglected to even think about before they ever met you. somethings does tells me they’re a little bit of an age gap. if not in the literal sense, one of you may be more mature then the other. an “old soul”. this could go for any aspect in your relationship. sense of humor, how petty they (or you) could be, interests, tastes.

the love talking to you. loveeeee talking in general. about things that interest them, about things that interest you, the news, a new book they read. a very curious mind of which they enjoy sharing with you. i mean like up until four in the morning talking to you in bed all while still under the impression that it’s nine o’clock at night. time absolutely flies when it comes to spending time with each other. most importantly ? they listen. really well. like their memory is pretty much photographic. said your favorite food was chocolate covered strawberries one time two years ago ? your fridge will never not have chocolate covered strawberries in it again for the rest of your life.

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[messyemmy]

Fuck Love- Valentine's Day Grapejuice (fic) Flashbacks.

[This is part of the Grapejuice universe but can be read as a stand-alone one shot! Harry's best friend, Jack, is Y/n's younger brother.]

Premise: When your boyfriend stands you up on the most 'romantic' night of the year, Harry shows up with a sweet solution.

Grapejuice / Other Writing

Word count: 2.5k.

💗

The living room’s yellow lamps are the only lights casting through the empty house- empty other than yourself, curled up on the cosiest sofa- and it looks like it’s going to be a night of misery. 

Dressed in such a pretty tulle-draped cherry red dress, matching heels discarded at the entrance hall, you really are having a pity party. 

Being three hours late is one thing, it’s another thing to go radio-silent just as your boyfriend seems to have.

These dinner plans have been in the works since January, and even though you’ve come to expect this type of behaviour from him, hope had somehow riddled past the obvious- only to be dismissed once more. 

A year ago, you might have still been waiting in the entrance hall until your feet ached along with your heart, frantically glancing out the window at any sign of car headlights, anxiety punching you in the gut over and over until eventually, you would end up on this same sofa, mulling in sorrow. 

In the silence, you soak up sadness- only coming out of this haze when the soft sound of the front door unlocking garners your attention.

And then a mop of soft curly hair peaks round the corner, paired with the squishiest cheeks and softest smile. 

Nobody needs to know how quickly your muscles relax at the reassurance of no longer being alone- even if that company happens to be your extremely annoying and antagonistic brother’s equally annoying and antagonistic best friend, Harry Styles. 

Dressed in comfy dark grey sweatpants and his favourite navy hoodie, Harry looks so comfortable as he slips out of his scuffed trainers and neatly toes them off into the shoe pile. 

He carefully sets down a pastel pink rectangular box on the nearest side table and offers no formal greeting as he meanders over to your wallowing figure. 

There’s a thick coat of sympathy painting his stare- the type that you can see from afar, and it has your fists clenching at the thought of him feeling sorry for you. What a low blow. 

His shoes stop just before the sofa and he peers down at you knowingly.

Though Harry’s face shows no sign of pity, it’s his words that have you wishing the earth would swallow him whole, 

“Did he stand you up again?” 

“Don't rub it in.” You warn, and his features instantly soften apologetically. 

“Didn't mean any offence, Clutz.” 

Harry cautiously sits on the arm of the couch, watching tentatively as your furrowed brows turn from one of frustration to one of hurt. 

The type of face he rarely sees- and when he does, it scrunches his body with something he can’t quite find the word for.

All he knows is that he wants to do anything it takes to make things better, or at the least soothe that adorable frown decorating your glowing features. 

The palm of your hand greets your forehead with a forceful press of disappointment, and for some reason, you can’t stop your head from shaking, nor can you stop the words suddenly whispering his way,

“I should've known.” 

Now it’s Harry’s turn to furrow in bewilderment, he certainly can't understand how you’re the one to blame for any of this.

Is this truly how you see things- that you’re in the wrong for having expectations?

“You shouldn't have to assume everything will end in disappointment.” 

He plops down on the sofa with a soft thump, shifting himself comfortably to face you. It's a totally defensive reaction when your stare snaps and shocks his own, eyes squinting,

“And you should find a girlfriend you can prove that to.” 

“I'd ask you if you weren't taken.” Harry shrugs off your dismissal like a pro, incapable of dimming his boyishness to pure darkness. 

Perhaps it works, because your face is washed of all prior feelings of upset, and it looks like you’re fighting a fearsome battle against a smile peaking at the corner of your lips. 

But just as easy as it was to settle, it’s just as easy to spiral, and now you’re a jumble of thoughts all surrounding Harry’s current intentions, suspiciously crossing your arms along your chest, 

“What are you doing here? Thought Jack was out with Millie?” 

“He is. ‘M just lonely.”  Harry shrugs off the small sting of vulnerability,

“And I figured you might be here, feeling the same.” 

“ I am not lonely, Harry.”

“Alone, then… On February fourteenth.”

Harry has his foot in his mouth and he doesn’t even know it- no clue that every word he utters is like venom in your veins, and you’re mere seconds away from taking out every ounce of hurt on him. 

Hurt doesn't begin to cover it. This ‘relationship’ of yours is three and a half years past a fling- deep in the depths of a complicated, disconnected companionship that more often than not left you a tearful, insecure mess. 

Your heart- and head- know that the relationship is fading, but security and closeness are not something you can find in just anyone- the threat of going from a duet back to a single 23-year-old is rather daunting.  

Harry strolled his way right into the line of fire with his misguided attempts to express that he understands how you feel- that he knows you. Instead, it’s coming out like he enjoys the notion that this is how you spend your Friday night. 

And he’s looking at you with those big clueless emerald eyes, practically begging to be lashed out at. His wish is your command,

‘Can you stop being so negative about my relationship?” 

Harry’s shoulders stiffen in puzzled suspense. He knows he shouldn't be surprised or offended by your mood this evening- hell, his mood is no better, it’s just another year of pining over his wanting for you- but he hadn’t expected your anger to be fully directed his way. 

He can feel the air between your bodies thickening with anger, and chooses his next words with great caution, 

“I was just stating the facts.”

“Well, thank you Harry for rubbing it in that my boyfriend doesn't care enough about me to even show up for Valentine's Day.” 

Your voice is louder than he likes, harsh and loaded with hurt. Pain that is clearly caused by his choice of words, and all in an instant, the realisation of how badly he has miscommunicated his desire to bond with you, 

“I'm sorry.” He’s earnest, “I didn't think of it that way-”

“You never think, do you?” 

“Alright, I deserved that one.” 

Harry concedes with shame, hoping that the steaming anger spewing from your cutely flaring nostrils will soon fade, and it is fading, because that all too familiar fear of cruelty comes rushing back, convincing you that there’s no right to be upset- even if your feelings are hurt.

“Just… there's no need to pity me, alright?” 

And you know he means no harm- he hardly ever does- how could Harry know the insides of your relationship if he’s never been in a serious one himself?

He should know better than to poke a grumpy bear, even in an attempt to be kind. He'll certainly know now, 

It’s all you can ask of him, and Harry feels his mouth dry up at the implication that he sees you as anything less than perfect. How the hell can he make that clear? 

“I don't pity you. I pity the man who chooses to be anywhere other than near you.” He’s watching for your reaction, “You'd have to be insane.” 

“Tell him that.” You scoff with incredulity. 

“I will. Give me your phone.”

“Absolutely not.” Suddenly Harry’s lurching for you, hands playfully roaming as he jovially searches for your phone.

And you’re arms are flailing, trying to swat him away in between exasperated giggles and gasps, “Harry!” 

He stops his prodding, body leaning close enough that his senses are surrounded by your sweet jasmine perfume, and all you can do to stay sane under his hold, scolding, 

“You’re a menace.”

Harry’s the picture of enjoyment as his entire face scrunches into an even greater smile- if possible- as he rides the high of your heartwarming laughter, willing to do anything to keep that gorgeous giggle playing on repeat, 

“‘M gonna say, ‘Hey dickhead, open your eyes!’ And then I’ll whisk you away on a date.”

“You’ve got it all planned out, then.” How can you ignore the fondness you feel for Harry’s romantic valiance? 

“Hold on a sec.”

Harry has a strike of genius, removing himself from your shared bubble with such sudden disregard that a shock of disappointment rattles your spine. 

Your gaze trails his lanky figure as he heads for the entrance hall, quickly retrieving the mystery box from earlier.

With surprising relief at his haste, Harry removes the cardboard lid and sinks back down into the sofa cushions. 

He shuffles closer until the searing brush of his cotton-clad knee makes contact with your now crisscrossed calf, and thank the heavens that the box he presents you is alluring enough to dismiss the rush of excitement his closeness evokes. 

A container housing the most mouthwatering stack of thickly chocolate-drizzled brownies. Enough brownies to put your frazzled being into a comatose state.

Eyes oozing with hungry desire, Harry hides his pride well and offers the box your way,

“Here we go.”

To avoid almost snatching the box and needily digging in, you eye him up suspiciously, pondering the origin of these suspiciously alluring treats, 

“Who were these meant for?”

“Me.” He states simply. 

“Ah, one of your many suitors, or… suitress?” 

“Curious, hm?” When you scoff shyly, Harry softly chuckles and clarifies, “From ‘m mum.”

“She’s the best.”

“No, they’re yours.”

Exhaling fondly, Harry carefully shakes the box like he’s offering a treat to a well-behaved puppy. You can only offer a bashful refusal, 

Harry chuckles deeply and sets the brownies down on his lap before he picks one from the top of the pile and dramatically parts his puckered lips, letting his tongue and teeth lazily engulf the dense fudgy cake.

He moans filthily, chewing a couple of times before coaxing through bites,

“Oh, c’mon, you know you want one… Can see you eyeing them.”

“Shush.”

“C’monnnn Y/n, you know you wanna.” 

Harry’s cutely tempting coos are almost too much to resist. Your eyes are darting from the brownies begging to be devoured, and the devious smile stretching across his entire face, 

“I don’t want to indulge in anything Valentine's related.”

“Fuck love, you say?”

“Fine.” Harry agrees casually, because, of course, he already has a solution for this dilemma,

“These aren’t Valentine's brownies. They’re ‘fuck love’ brownies.”

That’s all the permission you need to soothe your sorrows with a sugary overload of chocolate comfort as you reach over with pathetic haste and grab ahold of the nearest brownie. 

“Atta girl.” He praises.

The dessert disappears into your mouth with such momentum that Harry almost misses the entire thing.

But when he sees your ruby-stained lips coated in sweet chocolate and you continue to chew contently, Harry is a mess of all-encompassing love.

He embraces the love he has for you, as he has time and time before, and it always feels like the very first time he realised that he had been falling in love with you his entire life. 

The two of you share a couple more brownies in pleasant silence, while Harry sneaks glances and observes curiously as your brows constantly shift from frustration to satiation- You can’t settle on sorrow or satisfaction. 

But how can Harry say it aloud in a way that would make sense to either of you?

Because if it were so simple, he would profess it over and over, and perhaps you would be sitting here overjoyed instead of so overwhelmed with disappointment. 

Harry’s going in for number three and your gloomy gaze is glued to your hand, still cradling a half-consumed brownie and presenting your new theory, 

“I’m starting to think love is some cruel form of punishment.”

“Maybe you’re right.” 

Harry thinks being in love with you can be as painful as it is rewarding. Watching your heart lose hope more with each day, he feels a type of hurt that he imagines you must be experiencing with each disappointment. 

And he can’t help that it makes him spiteful, and jealous, and perhaps he’s secretly praying for your relationship's downfall.

Which has him constantly riddled with guilt, but that fades in rare moments like these, when he gets a taste of what life loving you would entail. 

Perhaps you don’t notice how normal- natural- it feels to spend time with Harry one-on-one because the dull ache in your chest has yet to subside, even with the warm comfort of Harry and chocolate dessert, it’s impossible to dismiss your heartbreak. 

All you can muster is a disappointed sigh before finishing off the rest of your brownie, halfheartedly dusting the crumbs from your fingers and concluding, 

“Fuck love, yeah?”

“Fuck love.”

Harry agrees- for your sake, and perhaps his own. But as the words are leaving his lips, bitter betrayal of the heart harshly burns his tongue, and if he doesn’t deter this moodiness soon, he risks throwing up all his honesty about loving you, as well as the brownies. 

Chocolate was the first step in making up for a rough start to the evening, the second was to create a worthy distraction, and though he would prefer doing that with just his company, Harry fears he might further provoke your mood. 

Harry’s about to spend the next couple of hours scorched beneath your bare soles, one palm resting along your ankle, desperately resisting the urge to caress the other along the slopes of your calves. 

The safer bet is to suggest turning on the telly, which guarantees an avid nod from yours truly, reaching out for the remote.

He puts the remaining brownies on the coffee table, his breath hitching as your legs carelessly and comfortably stretch out and rest atop his mid-thigh. 

Comfortable familiarity embraced you as soon as his hand wrapped around your exposed skin, and you began aimlessly scrolling, tilting your head to garner Harry’s attention, 

“What should we watch?”

“You’ve got mail-”

“No romance.”

Harry won’t argue with you on that one- if pretending to be part of the ‘I hate love’ club will soothe you right now, he’ll do it. Even if it twists his insides with treachery.

“Right. Fuck love.”

The two of you continue debating over the perfect choice, and it’s a quick consensus to select the most action-packed thriller that any streaming service has to offer. 

As the intro music fills the room with a foreboding melody, you try your hardest to ignore how easily you'll accept your boyfriend's apology tomorrow, and Harry tries even harder to pretend he isn’t so consumed with loving you that he’ll wait patiently when you do.

💗

Hope you enjoy it! Part 5 coming soon! - Emmy. xo 💞

[00valentina-writes00]

ellie with reader who has selective mutism? love your workk

♡♥︎Ellie with a girl they has selective mutism♥︎♡

♥︎ Ellie’s got a big mouth—always has, always will—but the moment she realizes you have selective mutism, she dials it back. Not in a way that makes you feel weird or different, but in a way that says, Hey, I see you. I get it.

♥︎ She never pressures you to speak. If you want to, cool. If you don’t, also cool. She reads your body language like a damn expert, catching onto little things—the way you shift, the way your eyes dart—before you even realize you’re communicating.

♥︎ That being said, she still talks a lot. Not to fill the silence, but just because she wants to share things with you. Her day, a dumb joke she thought of, how she absolutely destroyed Dina in a game of poker (she’s lying).

♥︎ Ellie’s the type to get really protective when people try to force you to talk. If anyone’s being pushy or making you uncomfortable, she’s immediately stepping in with a sharp, “They don’t owe you shit, dude. Move along.”

♥︎ She picks up on your nonverbal cues fast. If you glance at the door at a party, she’s already grabbing your hand to lead you out. If you shift uncomfortably when someone tries talking to you, she redirects the conversation smoothly.

♥︎ Writes little notes and passes them to you when you’re both chilling. Sometimes they’re stupid doodles of a buff giraffe (her artistic skills are questionable), sometimes they’re just little things like u hungry? wanna get outta here? u look cute btw.

♥︎ Over time, she gets used to the different ways you communicate—gestures, nods, writing things down. If you’re comfortable, she’ll even help you practice speaking in a low-pressure way, like whispering to her when no one else is around.

♥︎ She talks to you in the same casual, unfiltered way she talks to anyone else. She never makes you feel fragile or different, never acts like she’s walking on eggshells.

♥︎ Lowkey brags about understanding you better than anyone else. If someone’s confused about something you meant, Ellie’s already translating like, “They mean no, dude. Can you not tell?”

♥︎ If you ever do decide to talk, even just a word or two, she never makes a big deal out of it. Just gives you this soft little smile, like she’s proud of you but doesn’t wanna put you on the spot. Later, though, when you’re alone, she might squeeze your hand and be like, “That was cool, babe.”

♥︎ Hums and sings under her breath around you. Sometimes she does it just to make the silence feel shared rather than empty. If you have a song you like, she’ll learn it on her guitar and play it for you without expecting you to say anything about it.

♥︎ Lets you take the lead in physical affection. If you reach for her hand, she acts all casual about it, but inside she’s melting. If you tug on her sleeve for attention, she turns to you immediately, giving you her full focus.

♥︎ If someone asks why you don’t talk, Ellie is the first to shut that down. “That’s none of your business,” she’ll say, jaw tight. She doesn’t need an explanation to respect you, and she makes sure no one else does either.

♥︎ Gets really good at interpreting your facial expressions. A raised eyebrow? She’s smirking. A side glance? “Okay, yeah, that dude is weird-looking.” She makes it feel like a secret language between you two.

♥︎ If you ever get frustrated with yourself, she’s the first to reassure you. “Hey, you don’t need to talk to be heard, alright?” She’ll sit with you through whatever you’re feeling, no pressure, just warmth.

♥︎ Teaches you dumb hand signals for things. If you’re across the room and she wants to make you laugh, she does something goofy, like a dramatic thumbs down when Dina’s being annoying.

♥︎ If you text her instead of speaking, she responds in the same way—never makes you feel like it’s weird. Sometimes she even sends voice memos in response, all lazy and affectionate, like, “Babe, you should’ve seen Jesse’s face when I beat his ass in cards today.”

♥︎ Winks at you a lot. Not in a flirty way (okay, sometimes in a flirty way), but mostly in an I got you kinda way. If you’re struggling, if someone’s being annoying, if she just wants to make you smile—wink.

♥︎ At the end of the day, she never sees you as “the quiet one.” She just sees you. The way you light up when you’re happy, the way you make her feel safe without saying a word. And in return, she makes sure you always know: you don’t have to say anything for her to hear you.

[ivomartins]

honestly what's disappointing to me about cy2 is simply the fact that it's another new book that i know won't immediately hook me or keep me excited for every new update like psi or hell or high water did when they came out, especially because it's been this way for several updates now. like there was a time where we could always count on new books being interesting and exciting but now it's just like oh... another one...

[tonycries]

Whiskey, Neat, With a Side of You - T.F.

Synopsis. When your date stands you up, you’re lucky that the hot bartender is more than happy to keep you company! 

Pairing. Bartender! Toji Fushiguro x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, strangers to lovers, unprotected, pússydrunk Toji, cúmplay, oral (female + male receiving), créampie, some heinous things with pantíes, dirty talk, spitting, whískey, neither are drunk, absolutely filthy, pet names (doll), swearing.

Word count. 4.6k

A/N. Was originally gonna be Nanami but Toji mmmm

“So, that date of yours is late, huh?”

You don’t know what shocks you more - the question, or the voice from behind the counter - so very deep, tinged with just a bit of amusement.

Tearing your eyes away from the clock at the other end of the bar, it takes a second - and one look around the almost-empty room - for you to realize that shit the hot bartender was talking to you. Sputtering out a quick, “Oh, yes, um-” quickly reading that faded nametag, “-Toji. He’s a bit late.”

The man in front of you raises a brow, dark green eyes locked on the way you shift in your seat. He seemed a bit older, and - you gulp, eyeing the way his arms flex as he fumbles with the shaker - so undeniably attractive. Plowing on obliviously, “Boyfriend?”  

You sigh, pinching your nose, “No, some guy from a dating app. It’s supposed to be our first date.” 

“First date?” Toji lets out a low whistle. “Way to make an impression, dunno what type of asshat would keep a pretty lil’ thing like you waiting.”

Cheeks flaring, you don’t know what it is about him that makes you want to defend yourself, but it doesn’t matter anyway - because whatever rambled excuse gets stuck in your throat at the sharp scrape of glass against the counter. Large hands gently placing a pretty pink daiquiri in front of you, Toji gives you a reassuring nod. “S’on the house till that dumbass shows up. Until then, you can keep me company, doll.”

Playing with the straw between your fingers, your eyes flit to the clock again - 8:10pm.

Well, there was still time. Right? 

Nonsense, maybe.

Because it’s around 10:21pm when you conclude that no, there really wasn’t still time, and your date seemed well and fully intent on completely embarrassing you. And now, him still nowhere in sight, lips a bit looser, you were having the time of your life complaining all about it to Toji.

“-no, I swear.” you groan over his low chuckle. “He really gave me the ‘sorry, my dog ate my keys’ gem. And you know the best part?” Beckoning him over to whisper conspiratorially in his ear - heart stuttering at the heat of his proximity, “The man doesn’t even own a dog.”

Shaking his head, Toji seemed like he was drinking in your every word. “Classic. If yer gonna be late, at least make it interesting. Like, ‘I accidentally joined the circus on the way here.’”

“Mhm, I’ll have to keep that in mind for my next no-show date.” you grin, suddenly feeling a lot lighter than you were a few hours ago. Nowhere near tipsy, but definitely high off the conversation and the addictive scent of his cologne - the expensive kind that left you wondering whether all of him smelled this delicious. 

“Or better yet, you could spend your time with someone who actually knows how to keep you entertained rather than some scrub.”

Snapping out of your little reverie, lifting your head just fast enough to catch the little smirk tugging Toji’s lips. Managing to grit out, “Smooth, huh?”

“Just sayin’.” he hums, before turning his back to organize the glasses on the shelf. And you can’t help but traitorously admire his broad shoulders, cursing that t-shirt for being so goddamn tight that you could see the way his muscles ripple with each movement. 

“Besides-” Catching the tail-end of Toji’s question, “-neat whiskey for all the failed dates?”

You chuckle, “Ah, I really shouldn’t, the other customers will probably-” your sentence dies in your throat as a quick glance at the empty room showed that everyone else had eventually left - leaving just you. And Toji. Damn. Slow day, huh?

“Well, doll?”

Heaving out a shaky breath, you nod. Eyes zoning in on the way he expertly handles the glasses, so dizzyingly inviting. It makes a sheepish smile play at your lips, letting out a quiet little, “Despite all the shitty dates, I’ve actually never had whiskey neat before.”

Oh? That made him pause. Eyes widening ever-so-slightly as he sets down the glasses and leans in a little closer, breath hot against your face. “Never?”

“Never.”

“Well.” Toji muses. “This overpriced shit can’t be your first intro to neat whiskey. If you’re up for it, I’ve got a special 1926 Macallan stashed away in the back n’ can get it for us?”

Oh. Maybe it was that slow, silent grin that curls his lips, that sinful little scar moving as he does. Or maybe it was the way he places a hand on the counter to stare down so heavily at you. Probably it was just him - because you find yourself batting your lashes so deceivingly innocently, “Or I could just go with you?”

And shit if there was ever a time where Toji was sure he met his match then it might just be right now. Because that sultry lil’ smirk on your lips was killing him, making such a carnal little part of him twitch so dangerously. With a heavy nod, you’re following him through the dimly lit bar.

The back room is more of a VIP room than anything - cozy, lined with shelves of alcohol and leather furniture. Heady with the liquor and something so so Toji. 

You’re halfway through reading the title of a wine you could barely pronounce before he’s letting out a grunt of satisfaction from behind you, “Excuse me, doll.” It’s all that’s said before Toji’s pressing up against you. His muscular arm just inches from your head, reaching for something from the very top shelf. And oh you could feel his abs rubbing up against your back, so warm and- 

And then he’s pulling away. 

It was quite hard to stomp down the disappointed whine that almost leaves your throat, and if you didn’t know any better you’d have said something about the amused little glint in his eyes. Smug bastard knew what he was doing. 

Instead focusing on the way he turns to show off a bottle with a deceivingly innocent reverence. “This is going to be a real treat.”

Well. Two can play that game.

“Is that so?” you tilt your head, reaching out to grab the bottle neck, with not as much care of concern as you should have considering this was a million dollar whiskey. Swiftly unclasping the lid, focused only on the way Toji’s breath hitches as you fist his t-shirt in your other hand to pull him close to you - so close.

Close enough that you could count every shade of green in those half-lidded eyes, long lashes fluttering as your breath fans his face. “Such a shame we didn’t bring our glasses, huh?”

Oh the devilish grin that splits across his face sends such delicious shivers down your spine - Toji gets your drift. Of course, he does. Because he’s squishing your cheeks together in an almost-embarrassing pout, fingers searing on your skin, lips ghosting yours, “Yeah, real shame.” 

Immediately bringing the bottle to his mouth, letting the burning liquid pool on his tongue, he spits into your mouth, once. Twice. 

A steady stream of whiskey, and spit. It tasted just like the acrid alcohol and sin. And Toji. 

And it was so messy, smearing across your lips and trickling down your chin. Tilting your head back, you let it flow down your throat obscenely. Locked in his greedy gaze as you loll your tongue out to show off the way you’d swallowed everything he gave. 

“Maybe I do like neat whiskey.”

And then he’s kissing you - and you’re kissing him because fuck Toji was intoxicating and just there. That little scar rubbing against your lips as he devours you so sloppily, all hard muscles and heated skin underneath your fingertips. 

“Fuck.” he hisses into your open mouth. Setting down the whiskey God-knows-where near the couch to pick you up like a ragdoll. Drinking in the cute lil’ gasp that leaves you as you wrap your legs around his slutty waist. Groping and kneading every inch of skin he could reach. “How ya likin’ the Macallan, doll?”

“A ‘real treat’.” you mimic his earlier words, voice slightly broken as you feel his rock-hard cock through your wet panties, throbbing angrily against your cunt. Fuck, would you even be able to take him all?

“Oh yeah?”

And before you can react you’re being pushed against the hard wall. Toji’s lips dizzying on yours, fiddling with that godforsaken clasp on the back of your tight dress. 

“Shit.” he groans impatiently, wedging a knee between your legs, grinding against your wet pussy. “Such a delicious meal all f’me but I’ve gotta get through this- fuckin-” rip! “-dress”

Well, you expected your dress to end up on the floor somewhere, just not like this - tattered and hitting the ground of this back room behind the bar, faster than your jaw. And so do Toji’s - pupils blown, eyes hooded as he takes in the heavenly view in front of him. 

Pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses down your neck, licking like he couldn’t stay away. “Shit, doll. You were gonna wear this pretty lil’ number for that loser?” he sounds genuinely confused. Immediately tweaking and rolling your swollen nipples through the sheer fabric. “M’so fucking glad that bastard doesn’t know what he’s missing out on.”

“T-Toji- ngh-” you mewl, as he lets your bra fall to the ground. Taking in one tit in his mouth, swirling his hot tongue around your areola. “Wan- wan’ more-”

“Now now,” he tuts mockingly, delicate strings of spit connecting him to your breasts. “S’rude to be the only one drinking. Unless…” Toji looks up at you through his thick lashes, “You wan’ me to drink in that pretty lil’ cunt of yours?”

And shit that sounded like everything you ever wanted right now. All you can let out is a delirious little nod before Toji’s dropping to his knees. So hard you wonder if it hurts - and maybe it’s the liquor, probably it’s the way he’s drunk off you - but he doesn’t give a fuck. 

“Yeah, atta girl.”

Pulling down your panties in one, fluid motion, he tugs them underneath your legs, disappearing between his own, fumbling with his waistband. And if you angled your head just right you could see the slightest glimpse of Toji fisting his cock. Soaking your already-wet panties with his precum.

“Aw, look at the way she’s so wet f’me already.” he coos at your dripping cunt. Absolutely obsessed with the way you’re so drenched for him already. Slick beading through the flimsy fabric at each hot breath, oh Toji has half the mind to just take you right here, right now. But no, he wanted- needed a taste. Doesn’t think he could live without it. “Wonder if she tastes just as sweet as she looks.”

Whatever retort on the tip of your tongue is cut off by Toji burying himself face-first in your pussy. Licking a long, languid stripe up your swollen folds, pooling your slick on his tongue. 

But it wasn’t enough - it might never be. Because one taste of your pretty cunt and Toji is hooked. 

With a low groan, he’s spitting a steady stream of spit onto your quivering pussy. Spreading it with his thumb before he’s diving back in nose-deep. Snaking a hand down to draw frenzied little circles on your swollen clit, letting your juices glisten all down his wrist.

“Taste s’fuckin’ good. Fucking sweet.” So hot and maybe you should’ve gotten an inkling with how sloppy he was with the whiskey - but Toji was so fucking filthy. Your slick glossing his face so prettily, smearing right up to his nose and dribbling down his chin. Lewd little squelches deafening in your ears. 

“Ngh- Sh-shut up-”

“Shut up? Can’t shut up, doll, m’drunk on this sweet cunt more than I am on whiskey.” he mutters into your folds. “My favorite taste. Got me addicted, huh?”

He huffs out a dark laugh into your pussy, taking in that cute lil’ embarrassed expression on your face. Throwing one of your legs over his sculpted shoulder, Toji bullies his soft tongue into your snug cunt, past that delicious little ring of resistance. 

Making out with your pussy deeper. And his tongue was so long - perfectly hitting your sweet spots, licking all over your plushy walls. Thrusting in time with his thumb drawing on your clit, in and out in and out in and-

“Fuck, I could get used to this. Have you for breakfast, lunch, n’ dinner.”

His words were so dirty, but Toji looked so pretty stuffing his face in your cunt. Eyes rolling to the back of his head, dark strands of his hair sticking to his forehead. Tilting his head just so that your sweet sweet juices slide down his throat. 

It’s what has you tugging in his hair to angle him just right, using him like your favorite toy. Such cute lil’ whines of his name leaving you each time his tongue grazes that one spot that has you keening and bucking into his mouth for more more more-

“Fuck fuck fuck jus’ like that- Ah!” you let out such pretty whines, words slurring together. Delirious little ones that go straight to Toji’s achingly hard cock, angry and twitching in his fist. So needy and glistening with precum in the dim lighting.

Shit, Toji thinks he could cum at just that, which is why he’s lapping at your cunt even greedier, drinking you in like a madman. Fingers so deftly toying with your pretty clit, making you putty in his hands. He has to make you cum. Now. Or else he’s gonna fuckin’ embarrass himself in front of such a goddess. 

“Oh? So drunk on m’tongue, already, doll?” he chuckles. “Can’t speak?” Vibrations sending white-hot jolts of pleasure up your spine. It has you dragging your cunt so sloppily all over Toji’s face - and he likes it. Loves it even, only speeding up his movements. Even when his jaw is aching, walls sucking him up so desperately that it was almost difficult to eat out your pretty lil’ cunt. Even when your sweet juices are dripping down to the hardwood floor in a sinful little drip! drip! drip! 

“I- ngh- m’gonna-”

“Gonna what? You can handle whiskey, you can handle using your words, doll.”

“Cum!” you yelp, “M’gonna cum Toji- ah- feels t’good.” 

And that’s exactly what he liked to hear because Toji only gets sloppier. Alternating between stretching you out on his tongue, sucking on your clit, licking everywhere. Over and over-

“Then cum f’me, doll.”

And you are - fast and hard. So hard that you don’t even realize when you’re rocking your hips all over Toji’s face. Cunt fluttering around his tongue as if you were trying to suck him up - and he lets you. 

“Fuck. Sweeter than I imagined.” he’s slurring into your cunt. “Jus’ like that- yeah, ride out that pretty lil’ cunt on m’face.” Words muffled as he tonguefucks you through your high, stars behind your lids every time he flicks at your pussy. 

Distantly, you hear such embarrassing little whimpers of his name in time with the sinfully wet groans from below - ones you realize are yours only when you’re blinking back your vision. Heart thundering, pathetically trying to catch your breath.

The first thing you hear is Toji’s little chuckle, followed closely by a lewd pop! that has you whirling to look at him down below.

“Wh-wha-” and all you can let out is a strangled little oh! at the sight before you - Toji licking his fingers clean, sucking all your sweet juices like he couldn’t get enough. Even when he’s flashing you a devilish grin around his fingers, rising from his position on the ground to cage you against the wall.

“Told ya m’addicted, doll.”

Your back hits the soft leather before you even realize what’s happening. Bouncing at the sheer force of the throw, you gasp in both shock and at the audacity of this man.

“Toji…” you warn as he looms over you on the couch, yet it comes out more breathless than you intended. But looking at him there - straddling your hips, pants pulled just below his heavy balls, tugging and teasing his rock-hard cock like he was trying to fuck something delicious out of it - how could you be blamed, really?

He was so big. Pulsing wildly in his fist and just soaked in precum - all the way from his pretty pink tip to the tufts of black at his base. Not quite wild, not quite tamed. You cunt clenches in- anticipation? Fear of not being able to walk for the next week?

And in the haze of your orgasm it takes you a second to register the flimsy panties wrapped around his hand. Rubbing against those prominent veins on the side as Toji fucks his fist. So wet and ruined that you almost didn’t recognize it. 

“Jus’ think of it as repayment.” he grins, following your line of sight. 

You scoff, eyes still traitorously stuck on his throbbing cock. So massive and mouth-watering that it makes you wish he used you instead of those panties. “Those were expensive y’know.”

“I’ll buy you new ones. Four. In the color of my eyes.”

“How about…” you flash him a sultry smirk, urging his hips to shift higher. And by the amused quirk of his brow, you knew Toji liked where this was going.  “I can repay you another way.”

And before you knew it, his pants are thrown to God-knows-where, and you had two, muscled thighs straddling your face. Toji slaps his swollen cock on your face once. Twice. “Think that loser was this big?” Thumbing your mouth open as he grazes his weeping tip across your lips, glossing them so prettily. Precum salty on your tongue, all filthy and dripping down to your chin. 

“Open wide- Fuck. Tha’s it-” he hisses, brows furrowing as he stuffs his fat head into your hot mouth. Eyes rolling to the back of his head at the way your lips bulge around him, flicking at the sensitive tip. And it was so delicious, Toji couldn’t decide whether he liked eating you out or this more. 

“Shit, doll.” he grunts, hips fucking into your plushy tongue in shallow, quick little thrusts. “Taking me so well, huh?”

You didn’t know if you were - lips stretching obscenely around his thick cock, tears clinging to your lashes. Choking and gagging around his length in a way that made Toji twitch inside you. Shit, he liked this - liked seeing you like this. And as soon as the realization hits you, you’re moaning around his cock, making Toji’s hips stutter above you. 

Toji has to fight off that part of himself that just wants to paint your mouth a sinful white. Fuck his cum into your till it’s all you can taste - all you can feel. 

“Shit. You little minx. Ah- s’heavenly around me ngh-” pressing your head down till all the way till your nose is flush against his pelvis, balls twitching against your chin. Finally bottoming out and fucking your mouth in harsh, long strokes. “Fuck- Wonder if that pretty lil’ cunt of yours is gonna take me t-this well, huh?”

Oh does he love your smart mouth - but he loves it even more when all he gets in response is wet gurgle around his cock. Looking up at him so tearily and shit he could get used to this sight. “M’gonna take that as a yes.”

And then he’s speeding up, balls squeezing so painfully. God it’s so fucking hard to look at you too - precum and spit bubbling sloppily at the corners of your mouth, makeup so messy and fucking gorgeous to him. 

“Can feel m’self riiight-” Reaching out a hand to wrap around your throat, feeling his dick bulging in and out in and- “here.”

Moving faster so he can ruin your pretty face. It’s so sloppy the way your spit glistens down his length, using your swollen mouth as he pleases. And you’re so eager to make him lose his mind too that it has been fucking into you like a toy.

“Ya like this? Like me using your pretty lil’ mouth like oh- it’s a fucktoy? Oh fuck, doll.” he groans, running his mouth like he’s drunk off yours wrapped around him. “Gonna paint that pretty mouth of yours white if y’don’t stop now.” 

And shit if he knew those words would have you eagerly bobbing your head to meet his hips a little slut then he’d have said them a lot sooner. Trying to get just a taste of him. Mascara runny now, swirling your tongue around his leaking tip every time he hits the back of your throat, so hard that it’s probably sore and bruised. Toji almost feels bad. 

…

Nahhh

Pulling your mouth off him, muttering low and dangerous. “Told ya to stop now, didn’t I?”

And oh he hates to cut off that cute lil’ whine spilling from your kiss-bitten lips, but shit Toji’s losing his patience and his sanity with each passing second that he isn’t stuffing his cock in your pretty cunt. 

Toji backs up, swiping a thumb under your lip, sucking off the remnants of his precum before capturing your lips in a searing, searing kiss. Tasting you and himself and you- 

“Liked the Macallan, huh?” Reaching blindly for the bottle of whiskey, taking a deep swing. Spitting it back into your mouth because shit you looked so pretty swallowing it all up. Rutting his hips into yours, sliding his throbbing erection in between your swollen folds. Collecting your sweet juices on his head, drinking in your adorable gasps.

“T-Toji.” you whimper, hips bucking up wildly. “Just fuck me already, goddamnit.”

And then he is - pressing his fat tip into your sloppy hole. Inch by fucking inch. Not even thinking of easing into it because fuck he needs it. He needs it-

“-s’bad. Ah-” Toji drawls against your lips. “Wan’ed this ever since y’walked in through that damn door.” A mess of spit and alcohol and precum - it made you feel so dirty, dirtier than the pressure between your legs as he bullies his heavy cock into your snug pussy. And all you can do is fucking take it because Toji was so unrelenting.

Thrusting in shallow, mindless little thrusts to just fit himself inside you - and you already feel like you’re being stretched to your limits. Whimpering out a tearily little, “Are you at least ngh- halfway in yet? Oh-”

If Toji was any lesser man he’d just have split you apart on his cock right now, but no. Instead settling for a smug little, “Nope”, popping the p.

But that doesn’t stop him from wrapping two arms around your waist, sitting up on the couch with you splayed out so prettily on his cock. Pulling you, squeezing his dick into your soft cunt, sliding down, down, down.

“Ah! Ah- shit shit shit s’too deep, ngh-”

“No such thing as ‘too deep’, doll.” he clenches his jaw. Hands pushing your thighs apart even further as you’re split apart on his cock. “You jus’ hafta sit there all pretty n’ take- it-” Each word is punctuated by a harsh thrust. 

And Toji’s manhandling you around while bouncing you on his dick. Drawing unhurried little circles on your clit while trying to find that one spot he knows you’d love more than any whiskey or drink. Looping a strong arm to arch you into his body and-

“Fuck!” you keen, hips grinding sloppily to milk his cock as much as you could. Walls clenching so sinfully and shit-

“Found it.”

And then it was like something snapped - because all of a sudden Toji’s no more playful teasing and letting you have your little fun. No, he’s fucking you like a man possessed - thrusting his cock up into you. All the way from his weeping tip, till his balls smack your ass. So hard he’s sure they leave such a shameful mark for tomorrow. Hitting that spot over and over-

“Aren’t ya glad you chose to ah- s-stay with me?” he hisses, throwing his head back. One hand rocking your hips deeper the other becoming faster and faster on your poor, ravaged clit. Driving you crazy. “Fuck that date ditcher, y’look all pretty like this for me.”

“Yes yes yes- s’glad.” you manage to sob out. Voice shaky and hitching at the way he was bouncing you on his cock with reckless abandon. The lewd squelches and skin-on-skin filling the heady room, making your head spin so much that you barely hear Toji’s words. 

“I’d make a much better date. Hngh-” he lets out a guttural groan as your nails rake his back. Fingers on your clit becoming more and more frantic. “Would buy ya flowers n’ a-all that shit. Show up on time, all dressed up.” Drinking in your lewd little ah! ah! ah! every time he milks himself on your sloppy pussy. But oh maybe Toji was a talker when he was drunk because he wasn’t done yet. 

“Make all those other scrubs fuck- jealous. And then-” Hips stuttering and so so sloppy. “Hah- at night- m’gonna fuck you dumb just like this.” he gasps, sounding like he was at the end of his sanity. Losing it bit by bit every time his veins rub so deliciously against all the right spots that make you see stars. 

Losing his sanity especially when you whine out such a cute lil’ noise of agreement. “Fuck m’close. Wanted this too, huh? I saw the way you’d been eyeing me all night.”

You can’t even be embarrassed about being caught red-handed, only looking up at his pretty face with delirious heart-eyes. Too cockdrunk and delirious at this point. And, well, maybe it’s the alcohol in your veins because you’re grabbing at the shiny bottle on the seat, bringing it to your lips. The bitter taste barely hitting your lips before you’re meeting his. Making out as sloppily as he was ravaging you below - all teeth and whiskey and pure filth. 

And that answers his question. 

Messy and desperate. 

So it only makes sense that your orgasm was the same - clamping down so sinfully on his aching cock. And shit it’s so heavenly that it sends him over the edge as well. 

Toji cums, and keeps cumming so hard that he can see the way his seed was gushing out of your poor, overfilled pussy. Especially not when his thrusts get sloppy, thick cum spilling all over your pretty cunt. Purposely not pulling out like the mean bastard he is to paint your walls a sinful white

Over and over, forming a wet little patch on the couch that he knows he’ll have to worry about later. But right now he doesn’t give a fuck because your bloated and so prettily all covered in his seed. 

Leisurely, he pools the cum trickling out of your cunt on his fingertips, not even wasting a second before stuffing them in your mouth, pushing through your swollen lips. And you don’t complain - not at all. In fact, you’re sucking it all up eagerly. Looking Toji straight in the eyes while you swallow it all. 

“Hmm, not as good as the whiskey.” you tease. Letting yourself be yanked into his body, as he grins against your lips.

“For that, m’keeping the panties.” 

--- 

“Toji…” a low voice rings through the closed bar. Shiu sounding like he’s absolutely at his wit’s end as he continues, “Where the fuck is our 1926 Macallan?”

The man in question was staring suspiciously giddily at his phone - either having not heard what Shiu said, or he just couldn’t give a fuck anyway. And knowing Toji, it was probably the latter. 

A warning. “Toji I’m serious, that shit costs over a million dollars.”

“Yeah yeah, congratulations or my condolences but hey, do you know any great flower shops?”

A/N. I don’t even like whiskey so much, it’s just the thought of bartender! Toji that has me feral.

Plagiarism not authorized.

[cinnamorollcrybaby]

Shameless

Tags: dad!Toji x fem!reader, modern!au, nsfw, mdni, breeding kink, he calls himself daddy

Synopsis: You’re Toji’s live-in nanny. He wants to breed you, and he successfully does so.

An: This is my story on ao3!! You can read it here. If you’re feeling extra nice, a kudos would be cool too.

Being a single dad was hard. Toji learned quickly after his wife's death that he in fact couldn't do this alone. The way little Megumi's big eyes looked up to him for direction... him of all people. He was not cut out for this. Megumi's mom was a wonderful mother: sweet, nurturing, and patient. Toji really didn't know if he was any of those things.

Luckily, her life insurance provided Toji with a relatively comfortable life combined with his job in construction of course. Construction might be his vice. He got away from home for 12 hours a day, and he worked so hard that his brain was mush by the time he was home. Not that he didn't love his son, he did, but every time he looked at Megumi he saw his sweet late wife. He also saw his short comings as a father.

Babysitters quit on him regularly. It was always the same excuse. "Megumi's an angel, but I can't be here 7 days a week. I have a life too." It was incredibly annoying. They'd stay for Megumi but left due to another one of his shortcomings.

Another one quit. That would be the third one this month. "Listen Mr. Fushiguro, I know a friend. She does this sort of thing on a different level. Have you ever considered having a live-in nanny?"

That stupid girl's question enlightened Toji. He had completely forgotten that live-in nannies still existed. After getting her friend's number and paying her what he owed her for her time, Toji relaxed on the couch with little Megumi tucked into his side. The three-year-old was happily babbling next to him, enamored by Toji's phone that was in his hand.

Toji looked at the number dialed into his phone, and he sighed. He was tired of making cold calls to potential babysitters like he was some desperate whore, but maybe, maybe this would be different. He wouldn't mind having a live-in nanny. His house wouldn't mind it either. Toji would be able to finally breathe. No more coming home from 12 hour shifts to pop something to eat in the microwave and wash the dishes. He wouldn't even have to see this so-called nanny often. He could pick up more hours at work with all of his new freedom of not having to worry about pissing off the babysitter.

*** *** ***

Either way, that's how you ended up in Toji's house. For the past three months you had taken care of Megumi, cleaned and deep cleaned his entire house, cooked him plenty of dinners from scratch, and even did his laundry the exact way he preferred. His house has never looked better, and Megumi had never looked so happy.

Despite being here for three months, you barely saw Toji. He seemed to avoid you like the plague and only answer with one-worded answers, which was fine. This was your job, not your actual family. There was no need for extensive communications. Though, you had gushed to your friend plenty over text about how hot "Mr. Fushiguro" was. He was conventionally attractive, yes. But you also always had a thing for the brooding types, and dammit, Toji was brooding. There was also something to be said about how he came home in the evenings. A black wifebeater clinging to his skin from a long day of working out in the sun. His jeans would be dirty from the work he was doing. His skin glistening from a thin sheen of sweat. His hair was always a mess. Goddammit. It was enough to make you feel fertile.

It was early in the morning, Toji was getting ready to go to work. Megumi had woken up, crying for his papa not to leave him. He's going through an extra clingy phase. He's usually okay once Toji's gone.

"Papa!" Megumi cried as Toji entered the living room. You had Megumi in your lap, rocking him with a sleepy look on your face. His tears were wetting your shirt, but you didn't seem to mind.

"He'll be back tonight, Gumi." You shooshed him and continued to try to rock him and pat his back.

Toji's face was unreadable. He was never one to get all upset over Megumi's crying, but hearing his son cry out for him tugged on his heartstrings extra this morning. Then, there was you. You were a godsend to Toji's life. Getting a live-in nanny was one of the best decisions he had ever made. Above that, you were excellent with Megumi. You were sweet... nurturing... patient. He hated how seeing you with his son made him feel. It almost felt like maybe 2 kids wouldn't be that big of a deal. Maybe 3. One on each of your legs and another one swelling in your belly. God. He was disgusted in himself for thinking like that.

"I love you, kiddo." Toji said quickly as he leaned down, giving Megumi's forehead a quick peck. The toddler made grabby hands for him. It was almost enough to make him stay home. Almost. Toji's eyes met yours as he was still leaned over. His face was close to yours. The tension between them were palpable. The moment felt like eternity between them.

Then, a black credit card was in view. "I need new work gloves. Get the extra thick rubber ones, will ya? Also, get whatever you and the kid want. I'll be back late tonight." He handed you the card and sauntered out of the house despite Megumi's pleas for him to stay. You looked at the Amex black card and blinked a couple of times. Only the top earners in the world had cards like this. Toji was just an average blue collar dad... It made you wonder how he got a card like this.

You still spent that shit though.

*** *** ***

Toji looked at his phone on the jobsite. No one dared to tell him to put it away. Toji was the best most competent worker out on the field. He could work circles around supervisors and project managers alike, and he was damn smart. He didn't need a pencil and paper or a calculator to make quick conversions in his head. So, most people stayed out of his way.

He smirked and chuckled at the notifications rolling in from his bank. 78.97 at Target. 21.25 at McDonald's. 43.52 at Barnes and Noble. 9.24 at Starbucks. He was happy you and Megumi were getting to have a little shopping spree.

You were also great at keeping him updated. You sent him lots of pictures and videos of Megumi. He cherished each one of them, immediately getting some of them printed and hung up in his house. There was even a picture of you and Megumi proudly displayed in the living room. In his mind, you were an integral part of the family. The "family" simply would not function if it weren't for you.

A fond smile spread across his face as he opened his messages. A picture of Megumi's little hands trying to fit into his new gloves that she had bought him. Great. She got the right ones. "I think he wants to be just like daddy :)", the message read.

Oh.

Oh.

The twitch that just occurred in his pants should be punishable in a court of law. In no way should he have gotten turned on by that. You were just being nice. It was a normal thing for people to refer to him as "daddy" in that context. It never affected him in the way it was right now.

So anyways, that's how he ended up in the port-a-potty busting a load all over a picture of you that he had on his phone. After the shock of his orgasm that came quicker than ever, he looked down, disappointed in himself. He wasn't some horny teenage boy anymore. This was just downright deplorable. Begrudgingly, he wiped his phone clean from his sins. Post-nut clarity swirled his brain. He couldn't believe he just did that.

He called your number. He had to make things right.

"Hello? Is everything okay?" You immediately asked. After living with Toji for some time now, you learned that he doesn't just call people. He will absolutely decline a call to just text and ask what's up.

"Everything is fine." He replied, trying to hide his amusement. It was cute that you seemed so worried for him. "Are you still in town?"

"Yeah, Megumi and I are about to leave Starbucks and head home. Why? What's up?" You responded back to him. He could hear Megumi happily singing a song in the background.

"You know you spent 152 dollars today?" Toji asked as he popped his back up against the port-a-potty door. He had a lazy smirk on his face.

"Oh- crap. I'm sorry. You can take whatever you see fit out of my pay-" He interrupted your nonsense quickly.

"Do you think I'm poor?" His voice was amused, not angry like you expected it to be.

"What-? No.. no, sir. I was just-"

"I told you to get whatever you and the kid want. Don't come back home until your certain that you can't carry the amount of stuff you bought in one trip." He said quickly. His stomach was already coiling from how you called him sir. He grimaced as he felt another twitch. I just took care of you dammit.

"Oh... oh, okay? Are you su-" Click. He hung up on you. One too many dumb questions. You looked at Megumi as he strapped into the backseat of your car. He looked intrigued by the conversation even though you knew he realistically had no idea what was just said. "Daddy said we have to go to the toy store." You grinned at him. He was smiling and clapping over the word "toy".

234.22 at Toys-R-Us. 122.56 at Lego. 208.38 at Aerie. 88.21 at Ulta Beauty. Another 94.48 at Barnes and Noble.

The way Toji grinned each time he felt that familiar vibration of his phone go off, meaning another notification from his bank was off-putting. Workers on the jobsite never seen him so happy. It was his penance for being such a horny freaky fuck.

*** *** ***

It was later that same evening. Megumi was in the living room surrounded by toys and crafting materials. He was currently drawing all sorts of "shadow animals" as he called them. You would of course look and nod your head, congratulating him on each terribly drawn animal. You acted like that was the best damn wolf-bear-owl hybrid you ever saw.

You were in the kitchen cooking chicken and dumplings. The clock on the stove read seven p.m. You didn't expect to see Toji at all this evening. He said he was working late this morning. Usually, that meant he was dragging his feet in through the door until well past ten p.m.

Still, you made him a serving of chicken and dumpling soup. You always did. Even when he worked late, you would put him a helping of dinner in the microwave to keep warm. You never knew, but he was always delighted by that. He ate the dinners each time.

A key jingling in the door handle caught your attention while you were getting Megumi settled at the dining room table. Three-year-olds were so hard to manage: too small to eat by themselves but too big to be locked in a high chair.

Toji stepped into the living room with a small grunt. He smirked as he looked around at his destroyed living room. Toys, crayons, and pieces of "artwork" were strewn all about the place. He glanced up towards you and Megumi in the kitchen. He took note of how your face was flushed and surprised.

"Papa!" Megumi happily shouted before the little bastard ran from your grasp to go hug on Toji's legs. His dad smiled as he looked down at Megumi, and he used his hand to mess up Megumi's hair affectionately.

"Go eat your food, kiddo." Toji said warmly to his son. Megumi happily obliged and ran right back to his seat right next to you, and you fed him a spoonful of the soup.

"You're home early." You stated the obvious.

Toji would never tell you, but he left early because he missed you two.

"Don't sound too happy to see me." He remarked in a sarcastic tone.

"What-? No, I just.. would've cleaned up more had I known you would be home so soon..." You responded. Megumi was sitting beside you whining for another bite of food. You snapped out of your surprise, and you fed him another bite of chicken and dumplings.

"Why? I don't give a damn what this place looks like." Toji said with a small nonchalant shrug. He walked through the living room, carefully stepping over the toys. Before you had become his nanny, this was how his house normally looked: messy, lived in. "I've got a bowl of dinner in the microwave. My kid's happy and fed. I couldn't care less what that living room looks like."

Your heart fluttered at the sentiment. Toji was easy to please. He really just wanted what was best for his kid, and that was you. "I like making sure you have nothing to worry about." You replied. He looked at you with an unreadable expression. It looked like he might've wanted to say something, but he had backed out last minute. He hummed and walked towards his bedroom to shower the dirt, sweat, and grime from the day.

While Toji showered, you had finished feeding Megumi and yourself. You allowed Megumi to have about an hour of TV time before bed. He really enjoyed old X-Men cartoons. You turned them on for him and parked him on the couch, wrapped up in a blanket.

You hummed softly as you worked in the kitchen. You packed meal prep containers of soup for Toji to take for lunch for the next couple of days. Then, you were washing dishes in front of the sink.

*** *** ***

"I like making sure you have nothing to worry about." Your words repeated in Toji's head over and over like a mantra. He hadn't felt so... cared for in a long, long time. It made his heart feel full, which was an unfamiliar feeling for him. A less unfamiliar feeling was his dick standing fully erect and at attention. He groaned quietly as he leaned his head back in the shower.

Something had to be in the air recently. He was a grown man with desires, sure. But this was a new record for him. Ever since you started being a live-in nanny for him, the boners were a daily thing. Hell, twice or three times a day sometimes. He's tried everything... Well, okay, maybe not everything, but he's tried cold showers and staying away from you. Neither of those things work to soothe him.

His hand was gliding up and down his length for the second time today. He was facing the shower wall with his arm propped up on it, supporting his head. Damn you for making him feel like a slave to his desires. You wanted to make sure he had nothing to worry about? Then, you should be the one in here fixing this damn mess, not him. He pitifully rutted into his hand, imaging he's plunging deep into you. Imagining the multiple ways he'd fuck the hell out of you is the only thing that soothes the ache, but this time he didn't see an end in sight.

He gritted his teeth together, and he balled up his fist, rearing back before stopping himself. He's not a teenager anymore. He can't punch walls. He took a deep breath and turned the shower off. No, this won't do. He needs to fix this at the source.

After quickly drying off and getting dressed, he walked back into the kitchen. His eyes scanned over the house. Megumi was enthralled by the TV, and you were washing dishes. Perfect.

He slowly approached you from behind. He could tell you didn't hear him as you were still softly humming. Usually, you would stop humming if he entered the kitchen. He never understood why. The sounds of your melancholic hums were beautiful and soothing to him.

He was directly behind you, and his hands gently cupped your hips. You immediately flinched and made a soft scream that was quickly silenced by one of his hands. "Shh, we don't want to disturb the little brat, do we?" Toji said into your ear. His warm breath ghosted over the shell of your ear, making you shiver.

Toji's eyes flicked over towards the living room. Megumi hadn't moved an inch. Perfect.

Toji slowly released your mouth. To his delight, you didn't make a sound. He could hear how your breath was slightly labored from him scaring you. A small chuckle rose from his throat. His hands went back to your hips, and he pressed himself against your voluptuous ass. A hum of approval escaped him. He could see your hands gripping the countertops.

"Nod your head. You like this? Want me to keep pressing myself against you?" Toji whispered into your ear. You took your bottom lip between your teeth, and you nodded your head eagerly, giving him consent.

"Dirty fucking girl." His voice was like a growl in your ear as he started to move his hips, dragging his length up and down along you. You could feel each inch of his length beckoning for you. "I knew you'd take whatever I gave you, but this? Letting me grind against you like a pathetic teenager while my son is in the living room? You're such a fucking slut." His hands were digging into your hips as he continued his controlled motions.

"Mnn.. fuck.." You softly whimpered out. Thank god the X-Men were currently in a loud fight scene.

You slightly frowned as you suddenly didn't feel Toji behind you anymore. You were about to turn around and ask what he was doing, but his fingers curling into the waistband of your leggings told you everything you needed to know. "Toji-" You managed to whisper out. No way could you two do this while Megumi was in the next room over.

"Shut up." Toji interrupted you. He had taken his throbbing length out of his sleeping pants, and he had a look of concentration on his face as he angled himself right at your entrance. "You have no fucking idea how long I've needed this. So just be a good girl, shut up, and take what I give you."

Direct orders from your boss. Who were you to deny the man who just spoiled you all day today?

It was a tight fit. Toji wasn't a gentleman. He didn't prep you with his fingers or mouth. This wasn't love making. It was hardly fucking. This was fulfilling a need.

"God... fuck. I didn't expect you to be that tight." He growled into your neck as he held your hips still against him. It felt like he was splitting you apart. You couldn't even respond to him.

He noticed how tightly you were gripping the counter and how you weren't responding to him. Your knuckles were turning white. He almost felt guilty. His hand came around the front of you, and he gently rubbed the swollen bundle of nerves. "Shhh... You can take it. I know you can." He whispered into your ear as it was taking every last shred of self-restraint not to fuck you into oblivion right on this counter. He slowly pulled back until just his tip was inside, and he pushed all the way back in. "That's it. There's my good girl." He praised in your ear. It was not lost on him that he felt you get wetter with each praise.

He hesitated, but he said it anyway, "You wanna be a good girl for daddy, don't you?" He whispered into your ear. That phrase made you tremble in his arms and nod your head. He slowly pulled back out and pushed right back in, taking you slowly. "That's right... hngh, fuck." He moaned into your ear. "You want to be fucked by daddy. You want to take his cock like a good girl. Take it." His hips started to move with more conviction.

You were already so out of it. This was like a dirty fantasy come true. You couldn't help but check the TV a few times to make sure X-Men was still playing. You were still worried that Megumi might run in here for whatever reason and see you bent over in front of his dad. You knew it was unlikely. Megumi could watch that TV like a zombie all day if you let him. Besides, you would be able to hear the small pitter-patter of his footsteps.

"Stop looking at the fucking TV. Trust me." Toji growled into your ear as he forced your hips down onto him roughly. A noiseless gasp escaped you. He wasn't small, and he knew that. He was using it to his advantage.

"Fuck." He groaned quietly as he rubbed you with a bit more fervor. You could already feel that familiar warm feeling coiling in your stomach. "I'm going to fuck a baby into you. You were fucking made for this. Made for raising my kids and taking my fucking load." He was spewing nonsense into your ear, but in the moment, you couldn't help but nod and moan. "You were made for me." He proclaimed as his hips continued harshly snapping into your backside. Somehow the sounds were masked.

"You want that, don't you?" He asked as he bit down on your neck then lapped at the bite mark with his tongue.

"Yes, daddy!" You quietly exclaimed. His thrusts only increased in power. Your eyes started to cross, getting lost in pleasure.

"Fuck. You're gonna look so perfect pregnant with my baby. I won't let you have a break. As soon as one comes out; I'm puttin' another one in you." He continued on yapping about how many kids he was going to pump into you. "I'll breed you again and again." His thrusts were heavy and brutal. You couldn't take it anymore.

He moaned as he felt you clenching around him, finishing all over his cock. It was enough to drive him overboard. He pumped you full of cum until you were sure some of it was seeping out.

There was a peaceful moment of dizzy highness for you two. Toji panted against your back. For the first time in while, he's felt satisfied. A soft amused laugh escaped him as he heard the iconic X-Men episode coming to an end. He swiftly pulled out of you, and he tried to ignore that little whimper of protest you let out. He tucked himself back into his pants, and he pulled your leggings and panties back up for you since you were still a trembling mess over the counter.

"Alright Kiddo, c'mon. Time for bed." Toji said as he sauntered off into the living room as if he didn't just rearrange your guts. He put Megumi to bed that night, and he cleaned up the living room for you, allowing for you to recover in his bed for round two. He was much more of a gentleman for round two.

*** *** ***

"Hey... I know I ain't been to see you in a while. I'm sorry." Toji said as he sat down on the grassy ground. "I was letting life pass me by for too damn long." He said as he took a wet washcloth and began to wash up his late wife's gravestone. "I'm doing better now, so don't worry about me."

"Megumi's growing like a weed. I'm sorry I didn't bring him to see you... I just don't know how to explain it to him." Toji's voice was full of guilt as he dragged the wet washcloth against the stone. "He's a good kid though. He looks just like you, damn bastard." He softly laughed, knowing his wife would've struck him over the side of the head for calling Megumi a damn bastard.

"Listen... I met a girl." He leaned his head over the gravestone. It had been close to three months since you and Toji started sleeping together. There wasn't a formal label to your relationship, but it didn't feel necessary. You two both knew you were sleeping exclusively with each other. "I think you'd like her, or maybe you wouldn't since she's fucking your husband. But either way... I-" He choked up a bit as he held onto the cold stone. "I feel so fucking guilty... I know you're not coming home anytime soon, but I just... I need your blessing. If you can somehow hear me, please... I never asked you for anything until I asked you to marry me. Now, I'm asking... please somehow show me you approve of this."

"She's good for me... She takes good care of Megumi. He's so damn attached to her somedays." Toji softly laughed as he remembered how a few nights ago Megumi crawled into bed with you and him because he had a nightmare. Instead of taking to Toji like he normally does, he crawled into your arms. Toji had never felt so damn proud and slighted at the same time.

"I should get going. Give me a sign though.. Something that tells me you approve." He finished his visit with his wife, and he went home.

*** *** ***

That night at dinner, Megumi sped into the kitchen with an action figure in his hand. He was pretending to be Batman. "Gumi, I've told you three times. Stop running." You said as you gave the small child a look. Toji smirked as he knew that look good and well. It was the look a mom gave as a warning. Megumi was on his last warning.

"I'm sorry, mama." Megumi apologized, causing for both you and Toji to freeze right in your tracks. Megumi had never called you mama before. He always said your name.

Your heart swelled in your chest. It was a feeling of affection and guilt. "Oh no... baby.." You said softly as you took his hand. You lead him into the living room, and you crouched down, showing him a picture of his mom to him. "That's mama." You gently corrected him.

Toji watched the scene like a hawk from the dinner table. His heart was pounding in his chest. He had never been shy about telling Megumi who his mom was, but he hadn't exactly been forthcoming about how his mom passed away when he was a small baby.

Megumi pointed at the picture. "Mama." He said quietly. You nodded and patted his head.

"That's right." You praised affectionately. He then turned his attention to you. and he poked your chest with his tiny finger.

"Mama." He said, pointing at you.

"No-"

"It's alright." Toji spoke up from his seat at the dinner table.

"I don't want him to be confused..." You replied as you slowly stood back up, looking at Toji.

"He doesn't sound confused to me." He retorted with a small grin. You turned your attention back to Megumi, and Toji looked up towards the ceiling. "Thank you." He muttered so quietly before kissing the necklace that hung around his neck. He had his wife's blessing. This proved it.

After finishing his dinner, Toji joined you two in the living room. You and Megumi were curled up on each side of his while watching that old X-Men cartoon. Suddenly, Megumi rose from the couch. You and Toji watched him with a hint of confusion.

"What is he doing?" You softly asked Toji as Megumi bent over, and he looked between his legs at both you and Toji.

"I have no fucking id-" He was about to respond, but then, it hit him. "Get up." He said as he stood up from the couch. He quickly grabbed his phone, keys, and wallet like a madman.

"What? What? Is something wrong?" You asked as you had never seen Toji move this fast. You quickly got up too.

"Nothing's wrong. Come on. We're going to the store." He grunted as he swooped Megumi into his arms.

You were confused and in denial when Toji bought a pregnancy test and made you take it. Now, both of you were waiting outside of the bathroom for the five minutes to be over. "This is crazy, Toji. I'm not pregnant."

"It's an old wives' tale. When babies do that, it's supposed to mean their looking for their sibling." Toji said with a nonchalant shrug as if what he said was matter-of-fact. "My mother told me that's how she knew she was pregnant with me."

The timer went off on his phone, and both of you fought to get into the bathroom first. He eventually overpowered you and snatched the pregnancy test off the counter quickly. "Oh." He said quietly. The room went still.

Suddenly, your heart was racing. "What is it? Is it negative?" You asked a hint of disappointment hit you. You didn't know why, but a small part of you hoped for it to be positive.

"Oh, you're fucking getting it tonight." Toji smirked as he turned the pregnancy test over. Two pink lines were clear as day on the test. You're pregnant.

Tags: @lemonlimecrystal-blog @theuniversesnepobaby

[freezerbrldes]

no nut november - s.r.

PAIRING. Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

SUMMARY. Spencer is confident he can win a bet against Morgan… what he didn’t account for was having to share a room with you…

WARNINGS. smut, brief mention of male masturbation, unprotected sex, breeding kink if you squint

AUTHOR’S NOTE. It’s been awhile since I’ve actually written something and it’s also the first time I’ve ever written smut so hopefully this turned out okay. This is based on one of the bots I’ve made on character.ai/spicychat. I know it’s January but let’s pretend I posted this in November.

wc: 2.1k

credit to @cafekitsune for dividers

also on ao3

Spencer was beginning to regret agreeing to this bet. He thought it’d be easy, but after 3 and a half weeks, he felt so frustrated he could passed out from just the slightest touch.

Him and Morgan made a bet. Morgan was positive that Spencer wouldn’t be able to survive No Nut November. Spencer was not the competitive type, but he definitely wouldn’t pass up an opportunity to prove Morgan wrong.

Spencer is no stranger to getting himself off every so often. While he may be a genius with a high IQ, he is still a man with needs. He isn’t into hook up culture— he’s too much of a germaphobe for that. His right hand became his closest companion when alone after a stressful case.

The first week wasn’t bad at all. He began to think he might actually make it, but once the second and third week hit, that’s when thoughts about you were constantly on his mind…

Spencer has always found you attractive— like really attractive. So attractive that he often finds himself thinking about you while he pleasures himself late at night. He doesn’t want to think about you this way, but his mind always wanders to thoughts of you underneath him.

As if things couldn’t get any worse, you were sharing a hotel room with Spencer during the new case. He tries to distract himself with a book as you lay on your bed in an oversized tshirt and very short shorts.

You are reading over some case files, looking for any connections between the last two victims. Spencer could feel his pants get tighter at the mere thought of you just a few feet away from him.

You must’ve notice he has been particularly quiet today, because the sound of shuffling paper pulls his attention away from his book.

“Are you okay? you’ve been acting weird for the last week,” You ask, rolling over onto your side to look at him on the other bed.

“I-I’m fine, the cases have just been very, uh— draining — recently,” Spencer lies, shifting awkwardly on the bed to hide the evidence of his arousal.

“Right,” you chuckle, not buying his excuse. You walk over to his bed and sit across from him, the mattress dipping slightly under your weight. “C’mon Spence, what’s really bothering you?”

Spencer feels his heart rate increase. He fidgets with the hem of his sweater vest, avoiding direct eye contact.

"I...I'm just tired, okay? These cases take a toll on me," he says, trying to maintain a calm tone despite the growing tension between you.

His gaze drifts to your legs, which were crossed and showcased more of that smooth skin he'd been fantasizing about. He quickly looks away, focusing on the stack of psychology journals on his nightstand instead.

"Look,” Spencer sighs, “I appreciate you checking in, but I promise I’m fine. The sooner we crack this case, the sooner we can head back to Quantico."

Despite his words, Spencer found himself leaning slightly towards you, drawn in by your presence.

He feels his resolve weakening as your warm presence drew closer. Your scent fills his nostrils— a tantalizing mix of vanilla and something uniquely you. It stirs feelings within him he hadn't acknowledged before.

"I know you're just trying to help, but please, let me handle this," he pleads, his voice barely above a whisper. He couldn't meet your eyes, fearing the intensity he knew would be there.

A bead of sweat trickles down the side of his face as he recalls the countless nights spent pleasuring himself, always picturing your body in his mind, but now you’re inches away from him.

“Spencer,” you say, pulling his attention away from his wandering mind. “You’re one of my best friends, I can tell there is something else bothering you other than this case. Please— let me help you.”

Spencer's chest tightens at the word "friend". Despite the strong attraction he harbors for you, he had never allowed himself to hope for anything more. You deserve someone better, someone who could give you the love and affection you craved.

Spencer brain scrambles to come up with another excuse, as he gazes into your empathetic eyes, he finally caved.

"Okay, fine, There is something I've been struggling with," he admits, his voice barely audible. He takes a deep breath before speaking again.

"I made this stupid bet with Morgan, I’m supposed to go the entire month of November without having sex or masturbating. At first, it was easy but now, being in the same room as you, I’m having a hard time controlling my thoughts.”

Spencer closes his eyes, bracing himself for your reaction. He opens them again when he didn’t hear you laughing and making fun of him.

Relief washes over him as he saw an understanding expression rather than disgust. He swallows hard, his mouth suddenly dry.

"You're not mad?" he ask, his voice laced with vulnerability. In that moment, Spencer felt like he could finally exhale, like a heavy burden had been lifted from his shoulders.

“Of course not,” you reply, “why would I be mad?”

"Well, because even if I wasn't doing this bet, I still...I still think about you," he confesses, his cheeks flushing a deep shade of red.

"I know it's wrong, but I can't help how I feel. You're amazing. You’re smart, funny, beautiful..." Spencer’s words trailed off as he realizes where they were headed.

"I shouldn't say these things, but I can't keep pretending anymore." Spencer closes the space in between the two of you, his heart pounding in his chest.

After what felt like an eternity, His lips finally met yours in a passionate kiss.

Spencer felt a rush of emotions overwhelm him— excitement, nervousness, joy, and most of all, relief. This was what he had secretly longed for— dreamed about in the dark of night, and now it was finally happening.

His arms wrap around yours instinctively, pulling you closer as he deepens the kiss. His tongue dances with yours, exploring every inch of your mouth with a hunger he hadn't known he possessed.

When you finally broke apart for air, Spencer's breathing was ragged. He gazes into your eyes, seeing the same desire reflected back at him.

"You know, um, we should probably talk about this— about us," he adds, his voice barely above a whisper.

“How about we talk about it after?” you chuckle, your lips meeting his in another steamy kiss.

Spencer melts into the kiss, his body responding eagerly to your touch. He knew they needed to discuss the their growing feelings, but right now all he wanted was to lose himself in your touch.

Spencer's hands roams over your curves, mapping your body through your clothes. Breaking the kiss again, Spencer looked at you with a mix of adoration and longing.

"I want you,” he whispers, his voice husky with desire. "More than I've ever wanted anyone."

His lips trail from yours down your neck before reaching the hem of your tshirt, pulling it out of the way to plant kisses onto your collar bone. Spencer sucks on the sensitive skin before pulling the shirt over your head, carelessly tossing it onto the motel floor.

He kisses a path up your throat, pausing to nibble on your earlobe before pulling away just enough to admire the view. His gaze drank in the sight, the air thick with tension.

"You're stunning," he breathes, reaching out to trace the curve of your bare breast.

You moan softly as he gently caresses your body. Spencer dips his head to capture a nipple between his lips, sucking gently as his hand cups and kneads the other.

Spencer groans into your breast, the sound muffled by your soft flesh. He suckled harder, his thumb pinching and teasing the neglected nipple.

His other hand slides down your side before dipping lower to brush against the waistband of your shorts. He could feel heat emanating from your core, fueling his growing arousal.

He pushed the fabric of your panties aside to slip a finger along your slick folds as his mouth returned to your neck.

“You’re so wet already, is this all for me?” Spencer sighed, nibbling at your earlobe.

Before you could even respond, you moan loudly as he pushes a digit inside you, groaning at the tight clench of your walls.

"Fuck, you feel incredible," Spencer gasped, pumping his finger slowly in and out of you.

He adds a second finger, scissoring them gently to stretch you open, leaning back slightly to watch your face contort in pleasure.

Spencer watched intently as your body arches off the bed to meet his thrusting fingers. He curls them inside you, rubbing against that sweet spot that made your legs quiver.

He captures your mouth in a searing kiss, swallowing your moans as he picked up the pace, driving his fingers deeper.

His own arousal grew unbearable, it demands attention. With a growl, Spencer broke the kiss and hastily removed his clothes, throwing them in a pile with your discarded tshirt as you whimper at the loss of contact.

“I need to be inside you,” He pants as the last of his clothing is removed. He makes quick work of pulling your shorts and panties down your legs.

Spencer's hazel eyes are dark with lust as he positions himself between your thighs, the tip of his cock nudges against your entrance.

With a deep breath, he pushes forward, sinking inch by inch into your welcoming heat. A low groan rumbles in his chest at the feeling of your tight walls hugging his length.

Once fully sheathed, Spencer pauses, his forehead resting against yours as he savors the moment.

“God, you're perfect," he whispers, then begins to move, setting a slow, deliberate rhythm.

You moan loudly as he begins to pick up the pace, your nails leaving crescent moons on his shoulders.

“Please don’t stop, you feel so good inside me,” you beg.

Spencer's grip on your hips tightens as he pounds into you. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent as he loses himself in the feeling of you wrapped around him.

His fingers tug your hair lightly as he angles his thrusts to hit that spongy spot deep inside you over and over again.

"Shit, you feel so fucking amazing, so wet and tight," he pants, his voice strained with pleasure. “I'm going to cum so hard inside you."

One of your hands move from his shoulder down to where your bodies connect, rubbing hard circles over your throbbing clit.

Spencer's thrusts falter as he feels your fingers working on your sensitive nub. The sight pushes him even closer to the edge.

"Oh god, yes! You’re so fucking hot!" he cries out, his hips snapping against yours with renewed vigor.

He reaches down and replaces your hand with his own, rubbing harsh circles as he chases his high.

“Fuck yes, I'm gonna..." Spencer's words trail off into a guttural moan as his orgasm crashes over him, his cock pulsing and twitching inside you as he fills you up. The feeling pushes you over the edge with him.

Spencer collapses onto you, his weight pressing you into the mattress as he tries to catch his breath. His heart pounds wildly in his chest, still racing from the intensity of his orgasm.

After a moment, he lifts his head to look at you, his usually bright hazel eyes now heavy-lidded.

“That was...incredible," he murmurs, a soft smile playing on his lips, he places a gentle kiss on the tip of your nose.

He slowly pulls out of you and rolls onto his side, he reaches out to brush a strand of dampened hair from your forehead. You both lay in silence as your breathing returned to normal.

“Well,” you break the silence with a smug grin, “it would appear you have failed No Nut November,”

“Yeah, but it was worth it,” Spencer chuckles, his thumb rubbing circles onto your flushed cheek. “I’m starting to think you and Morgan set me up.”

“You really think I seduced you to help Morgan win a bet?” You laugh in disbelief.

“I mean, that would be a very Morgan thing for him to do,” Spencer says, his hand now caressing your arm, “That man always plays dirty.”

“If it makes you feel any better, I saw Morgan flirting with one of the motel staff, she left his room about two hours ago, so I’m sure you probably did beat him.”

“Of course he did, Morgan can’t go 5 minutes without sleeping with someone,” Spencer laughs as he pulls you into his arms.

You lay like that for a while before both of you drift off into a deep sleep, excited to see what the future holds for you two.

[vibelladonna]

✑ 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝒾𝓇 𝓀𝒾𝓃𝓀𝓈 𝜗𝜚 𝓈𝑜𝓁 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒸𝓇𝑜𝓌𝑒

Ah, kinks—something all humans have, especially those who read fanfics. I mean, who doesn’t love them? Whether it’s the soft, the spicy, or the downright unhinged, there’s always something that hits just right.

Let’s be real: scrolling through AO3, Tumblr, or Wattpad at 3 AM, looking for that one specific trope that scratches the brain itch?

Yeah, we’ve all been there.

𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓃𝓉 𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔: 18+ NO KIDS (Adults Only) This content contains mature themes unsuitable for children. Please respect the creator's intentions. 

I mixed a bit of canon and my headcanons for Crowe and Sol in this one—yep, once again! This time, I kept it focused on just four kinks to keep it short and sweet.

Hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

Starting, I’ve noticed that TKATB fans have their unique preferences when it comes to Sol or Crowe.

For example, fans who gravitate toward Sol tend to enjoy the idea of him being dominant—whether it’s being in control of him or just envisioning him taking charge. It’s that mix of power and intensity that gets people excited. You know who you are, you freaks!

On the other hand, fans of Crowe are drawn to his reliability, his deep understanding, and his caring nature. He’s willing to guide you through anything, offering both emotional support and strength. It’s comforting, isn’t it? And yes, I’m a freak too—I get it.

✑ 𝒸𝓇𝑜𝓌𝑒

Naturally, I had to start with my man—Jericho, or Crowe, as he's known. He exudes a mysterious, almost savior-like presence, though the details are still unclear. I WANNA KNOW SO BAD.

His style is effortlessly sharp, and his quiet confidence makes him instantly trustworthy. Reliable, steady, and composed, Crowe is the perfect support when life feels overwhelming. His charm is subtle, blending good looks with an alluring personality—irresistible, without ever being flashy. 

Now, let’s address the question: Can you see Crowe as kinky?

At first glance, no. Not. To a stranger, he’s too put together, with not even the faintest hint of anything unconventional beneath the surface. But as you get to know him, that answer begins to shift. Slowly, subtly, he reveals a side of himself that hints at complexity—an edge just beneath his polished exterior. However, don’t expect anything extreme or overtly wild.

What he does reveal is never too much but always just enough to leave you captivated—and maybe, just maybe, a little curious.

✑ Vanilla (Soft Dom…) 

For Crowe preferences!!

He's the ultimate soft, warm partner. Like, you just know he's all about the quiet, comforting vibes. No crazy power dynamics or rough kinks—he's all about that steady, affectionate love. It's Vanilla, but in the best way possible, full of layers. He’s not rushing anything, just enjoying the little things, taking his time, and making sure you feel heard and cherished. 

When you're with him, it's all slow and gentle—he’s not here for intense extremes. His love is patient, thoughtful, and wrapped in warmth. Every touch, every word, is like a soft caress, just so deliberate and tender. 

And honestly? There's no need for anything crazy. Crowe's happy to explore your connection, build that trust, and just savor the passion that grows naturally between you two. It's the kind of love that builds and lingers long after. 

Now… Crowe might be a soft dom—nah he IS A SOFT DOM.

Crowe’s not the type to push you past your limits just for the thrill of it. He’s not into playing mind games or testing how far he can take things. No, Crowe’s power is the quiet kind, the kind that makes you feel safe without even having to try. He knows the real strength is in taking care of someone, not in forcing them into anything they’re not ready for.  

When you’re with him, it’s like he’s always tuned into you, always listening, always aware of exactly what you need. He’s the guy who doesn’t take, but gives—gives you everything he can, with a level of care that’s almost overwhelming. And even though he’s gentle, don’t get it twisted—he’s still a tease. He’s the kind of man who’ll leave marks on your skin, a subtle reminder that you're his. But it's all in the way he leads, in that steady hand that takes yours, guiding you through every little moment.  

There’s nothing loud about Crowe—other than his moans and whining. I SWEAR he has pretty moans.

He doesn’t demand anything and doesn’t rush you, but he has this way of making you feel like you’re the only person in the room. When he touches you, it’s with a confidence that leaves you breathless but also comforted. He’ll press his forehead against yours, his hand guiding yours down to your stomach, just so you can feel his bulge inside you,how much he wants you, how much he’s thinking about you at that moment. 

There’s no need for words—just that connection, that intense eye contact that says everything.  

But yeah, he’ll also let you think you have the upper hand for a minute. Let you believe you’ve got him cornered, like you're finally taking control… only for him to flip the switch, regaining control without you even realizing.  

With Crowe, it’s not about begging or pleading for pleasure—it’s about your happiness, your satisfaction. His version of dominance is the kind that wraps around you like a warm blanket, soft and cozy. He just wants to see you smile, hear you laugh—moan, and whine under him, and know that every moment spent with him is full of happiness.  

So, if you're into a soft dom who values deep emotional connection, tenderness, and affection, Crowe’s your man! He just wants you to trust him, to let go and let him care for you. Let him be there for you in every single way, in every moment. 

And in that, he gives you all the security you’ll ever need.

✑ Praise (giving + receiving)

Crowe is all about Praise, and affection through words. Imagine him pulling you close, whispering in your ear while his fingers gently trace patterns along your skin. 

“You’re such a good girl for me, look at how well you take me, love. That’s my girl, always so ready for me, aren’t you?” His words make you feel safe, wanted, and cherished.

He doesn’t wait for you to ask for reassurance—he gives it freely, letting you know how much he appreciates having you around, and how much he loves seeing you smile. And when it comes to your body? He knows every inch of it like he’s got a personal map of your every curve and spot. He might even joke, “No one will ever know you like I do. I’ve ruined you for everyone else, haven’t I?”

Crowe has this vibe about him, like he’s always hungry to make sure you're feeling amazing, but don’t forget to show him some love, too. He thrives on hearing you praise him, especially when you whisper how much you need him, and how much he’s doing for you. The sound of your voice, the words you say—they get to him, melt him down until his heart's pounding.

Now and then, he’ll pull back, checking in on you, “You okay? Am I pushing you too far?” It’s not just about the rush for him. He wants you to be comfortable, to be in sync with him as he takes you through everything, slow and steady, giving you all that love. “That’s it, you're doing so well,” he’ll say, his voice smooth like syrup, making sure you know you're adored.

But here’s the thing: if you keep praising him, or if you’re the one in control, just wait. Crowe’s mouth? It’ll get filthy. AND I MEAN FILTHY. He can’t help it, don't be mean now...

I mean, you can. You giving him head? Taking his cock deep inside your throat, feeling he's about to cum, then you pulled back, teasing him. He'll say, "Please, my love, you were doing so good on my cock—please, please, keep going, I need that tongue of yours."

One of his favorite things is when you’re so into it that he can just forget what you say and speak directly to you, but in a way that’ll make your body react before your mind even catches up. Like, he’ll whisper, “God, you taste so damn good. Missed me, huh? Just wanna be filled up, don't you?”

His words drip against you, his eyes dark with heat, like he's speaking to your body, not even acknowledging your moans. “Such a good fucking pussy. Always making me feel so damn good. Want me to stuff you full, hm?”

And when it’s all done? Crowe doesn’t just drop it and move on. He’s got aftercare down to an art. He’ll guide you through it, keep you close, making sure you’re okay, settled, and cared for, getting ready to do it all again whenever you’re ready!

✑ Experimentalist

Crowe is the kind of man who never wants to leave any stone unturned, especially when it comes to experiences.

There was something about him that screamed experimentalist—like he needed to try everything, no matter how wild or unconventional. When it came to relationships, he was always up for anything, which meant he'd probably had more relationship experiences than most people you knew. 

His mind is open, impossibly so, and he had an insatiable curiosity that could never be satisfied. He’d never form an opinion on something without diving in and getting his first-hand taste. If there was something new to try, something out-of-the-box—Crowe was there, ready to explore. 

And honestly? He didn’t even need you to ask twice. If you suggested something wild, he’d be all in—his enthusiasm infectious, his curiosity never-ending.

However, he's pretty vanilla when it comes to experimenting, so don't expect him to go TOO hardcore. If there's a kink suited to his taste and he masters it? Oh, Babe, you'll feel it—so much in fact.

Take ropes, for example. Blindfolds? Handcuffs? Oh, he is intrigued. But, again, don’t expect anything brutal. He isn't the type to be into floggers or paddles; no, pain isn't needed for his skills. It is his anticipation. The slow burn of him carefully tying you up, not in a rush, but with the kind of patience that made every moment last longer. 

When his hands hovered over your skin, it wasn’t just touch—it was electric. He’d make sure to linger, let his fingers graze over every inch, just enough to make you shiver, your breath hitching in the air between you. It wasn’t about hurting you, not at all. No, it was all about the build-up—the moment when the ropes or restraints were placed just so, tightening the tension between you both until it was practically unbearable. 

And then? When you finally let go, it was a release so sweet and steady that it left you breathless. No rushing, no quick fixes—just a slow, fulfilling pleasure.

Adding on, Crowe loved the idea of restraint. Whether for fun, for art, or for that extra little spark of excitement, there was something about having you completely at his mercy. 

And if you ever flipped the script? If he was the one getting tied up? Like I said, Crowe will be just as filthy when he lets his guard down. 

✑ Dacryphillia

Okay, hear me out. I know what you’re thinking—"Crowe? He would never hurt me. Why would he want to see me cry?" And I get it, really. This is one of those wild ideas but just stick with me for a second.

You know how he’s all about emotions and deep connections, right? Get it?

He gets this deep fascination with what you feel and show, especially when it’s raw. Here’s where it gets interesting: Dacryphilia. Yeah, I’m talking about that thing where someone gets... well, aroused by tears, by the sound of you sobbing, the whole mess of emotions. 

So, let’s imagine this: You’re begging him, pleading for more. Your face is a mess of emotions, eyes watery, tears rolling down your cheeks. And yeah, he’s gonna ask if you’re okay because that’s the kind of man he is—always checking, always making sure. But if you keep begging for more? Oh, that’s when it gets dangerous. 

Each desperate plea of yours, each tremor in your voice, just fuels this fire inside him, an all-consuming fire. His eyes? They’re practically glowing, deep blue, and locked on you like he's drowning in you, in every little thing you’re feeling.

You can feel him there, so close you can almost taste his breath on your skin. His lips brush against your ear, a soft, teasing whisper sending shivers down your spine. "So desperate for me already, huh? We haven’t even gotten to the fun part yet..." His voice is low, and dangerous, like he’s savoring every second of this.

You know he’s enjoying this. Every inch of him is hooked, and once he has you like this, there’s no going back.

Crowe’s could be teasing you for what feels like hours, driving you wild with a mix of pleasure and frustration. He’s pulled every bit of sensation from you, your body trembling with each orgasm, each touch—until you’re left aching for more. You’ve come undone on his fingers, his tongue, but now, you’re desperate in a way that makes your chest ache.

You need him, inside of you, filling you up, but he’s holding back. Just barely, he brushes against you with his cock, grinning at the whine that slips from your lips.

His fingers tease your entrance, and you can’t stop yourself from begging, voice shaky, "Please... Please, please." You repeated. Tears burn at the corners of your eyes, blurring your vision as they fall helplessly. The emptiness without him feels unbearable.

Crowe tilted his head, the smirk on his face practically dripping with playful mockery. “Just please?” He dragged the word out slowly, eyes twinkling with mischief. “Tell me what you want, love. What is it you’re begging for?” His hand slid up your stomach, hand pushing down lightly as if testing the waters. 

A soft moan released from your lips as he leaned in, his breath hot against your ear, the playful glint in his eyes shifting into something darker, more calculating. “You want me to fill you up, don’t you?”

His soft gin stretched wider as you stumbled over your words, desperate and disordered, pleading for more. He could tell you were unraveling, and it only pushed him further, each whimper was like a small victory. 

“You’re falling apart, love,” he murmured, his voice low and dangerous. “Don’t worry, I’ll give you what you need... just say the word.” You could barely focus as the desperation built into your chest. His control over you was unnerving, yet exhilarating. The tears running down your cheeks were a mix of frustration and need, a silent scream for him. 

“I need you, Crowe. Please...” Your voice was broken, but he was the one who was in control, studying the way you reacted like a willing experiment.

Crowe’s hand lifts gently to your cheek, his thumb brushing away the tears streaming down your face. He gives you a soft grin, his voice low and teasing. “Already crying for me, huh?” he murmurs, almost amused. His thumb slips past your lips, letting you taste the salty remnants of your emotions. "We’ve just started," he adds, a soft chuckle escaping him. 

Before you can respond, his hips jerk forward, pushing into you with one swift, forceful motion. The shock of it makes your breath catch, and Crowe can’t help but smirk, his eyes glinting with that dangerous, experimental gleam.

Every move, calculated and deliberate, is part of his twisted exploration. And you? You’re the willing subject.

✑ 𝓈𝑜𝓁

Sol is described as a “stinky basement-dwelling yandere”—ngl, this alone made me laugh. He’s a quiet kid, the one who lingered at the edges of every room, observing, never quite fitting in.

Beneath his reserved exterior was a complexity most couldn’t fathom. He’s incredibly smart, with a sharpness that slipped through his words when he spoke, though he rarely bothered to. His talents leaned toward the arts, paintings, and writings.

And yet, at the end of the day, Sol isn’t exactly smooth. He was hopelessly inexperienced when it came to relationships. He gets no bitches, and honestly, he probably doesn’t even try. But in his inexperience is a certain rawness, and once you did get to know him, he’ll flirt or charm you. But before, he just watched and wanted.  

Now, let’s address the question: Can you see Sol as kinky?

Yes, let’s not sugarcoat it—he is kinky asf. Of course, he is. There was no way someone as quiet and repressed as Sol didn’t have a horny side, one he tried to keep buried but couldn’t fully hide due to his love for you. 

✑ Switch (A Pervert…)

Now, about Sol’s... preferences. 

From reading his relationship information card and playing the game. He is a paradox, a Switch in every sense of the word. He didn’t neatly fit into the mold of “always dominant” or “forever submissive.” Oh no, that would be far too mundane for someone like him. He's not a standard yandere people.

Sol is a man of extremes, a “pervert” in the most endearing, shameless sense of the word. He believed in living freely, without the shackles of societal expectations or traditional constraints. Ethics, morality, conventional roles—he’d toss them aside without hesitation if they stood in the way of his desires.   

When he takes the reins as Dominant, Sol is the type to lean into theatrics, pushing boundaries with a devilish grin and that mischievous gleam in his eyes. He had a talent for making the experience unforgettable, for making you feel as though the entire world had melted away, leaving only the two of you. But when the tables turned, when Sol found himself in the more submissive role, he’d throw himself into it with equal fervor. 

He’d challenge you to prove your worth, tease and push until you stepped up to the plate, and then—when you finally did—he’d surrender so completely that it'll feel like a victory worth savoring.  

To Sol, sex and relationships weren’t just about power dynamics or tradition. They were a playground for exploration, a place where the only rule was to follow what felt right. With his “anything goes” mentality, Sol turned every interaction into a kaleidoscope of passion and unpredictability. 

As mentioned, Sol, can’t help himself when it comes to you.

Let’s say he has this thing—Voyeuristic Disorder, to be precise, a fancy word for being a pervert. Dosn't care to see anyone else naked. Only you he wishes to see. He was obsessed with watching you, whether you knew it or not. In public or private, it didn’t matter.

He just liked being there, lurking in the shadows, soaking in every moment. Watching you do the most intimate things, completely unaware that he was there. 

There was something so exhilarating about seeing you—your bare skin, the way you moved, the little things you did when you thought no one was watching. He couldn’t resist. The way your body reacted, the sounds you made when you didn’t know he was there—it was all he needed. 

Deadass, I’m shocked that the creator of the game never added a specific scene where you were taking care of yourself in bed—you freak, oblivious to him sneaking a peek from the window, his hand on his cock, jacking himself off, doing exactly what he does best. Watching. 

He didn’t let societal norms dictate how he expressed himself or who he loved. He was unapologetically himself—messy, chaotic, and a little too intense for most people’s taste. But for those brave enough to step into his world, you, well, if you picked him, that is.

Sol will offer an experience unlike any other: one filled with unrelenting honesty, unbridled passion, and a love that refuses to be anything less than extraordinary.  

✑ Praise (Receiving)

Sol isn't the type of man you’d peg as desperate for validation—at least, not at first glance. His sharp, confident exterior gave the impression of someone who had the world at his feet, who didn’t flinch under pressure or crack beneath judgmental stares. 

But peel back the layers of this supposed nonchalant and cool type of man, and you’d find a truth that was much more human, much more raw. Sol craved praise. Why? Perhaps it was the lack of it throughout his life. His track record for romance was, let’s say, less than impressive. Not because he lacked charm or good looks—he had both in spades—but because his overbearing aura and unapologetic eccentricities tended to drive most people away. 

They didn’t understand him, couldn’t see past the way he challenged conventions. He wore his "loser" title like armor. After all, who cared if he didn’t have admirers lined up at his door? He didn’t need anyone... right? Yet, when someone, such as you, did manage to offer him an honest compliment, something sincere, it was like watching a dam break. 

His confident smirk would falter for a second, his eyes softening, betraying the vulnerability he worked so hard to conceal. Sol wasn’t accustomed to receiving love—real, genuine love—and when it came, it hit him like a truck

✑ Masochist

The first time you noticed Sol’s tendency to endure pain, you’d thought it was just his stubborn nature. He’s always been the type to wear his emotions on his sleeve when it came to you—raw, unfiltered, and unapologetically vulnerable. But as time went on, you began to see something deeper beneath that tough, rebellious exterior. 

Sol wasn’t just someone who endured pain; he seemed to embrace it…? almost thrive on it, especially when it comes to you.

Sol is, without a doubt, a masochist. Not in the twisted, sadistic sense, but in an almost heartbreaking way. He’d do anything to please you, to earn your attention—even if it meant enduring the unendurable. 

He could never be a sadist. No, he loved you too much to ever inflict pain on you, physically or emotionally. The very thought of hurting you would make his stomach churn. Instead, he channeled all his devotion into being by your side, no matter the cost.

There were moments when his tendencies became painfully obvious. Like he gets into fights back to back, defending himself or you—for example, the movie theater bathroom or the Campus library (With or without.)

You hadn’t/have even been there to witness it—Sol hadn’t wanted you to see him like that, bruised and bloody. But when you found out later, he brushed it off with that crooked grin of his, the one that hid just how far he’d go for you. “It’s nothing,” he’d said, wiping the blood from his lip. “They deserved it for talking about you like that.”

Or that time with Crowe. It had been an innocent moment, just you laughing at something Crowe said, but to Sol, it might as well have been a dagger to his chest. He clenched his fists so tightly that his knuckles turned white, nails digging into his palms until they drew blood. He didn’t want to feel that way—jealousy mixed with self-loathing—but he couldn’t help it. Watching you walk away with someone else, even for a moment, was unbearable. 

It wasn’t that he enjoyed the pain; it was just that he could handle it, even when it tore him apart inside.  

And in the quiet, intimate moments, Sol’s masochistic streak became something else entirely. If you picked him willingly, He’ll trust you, and loved you, enough to let down every last defense he had. He didn’t just endure pain; with you, he could find meaning in it. 

A sharp bite, nails dragging down his back—he shivered under your touch, his body responding in ways he didn’t fully understand but didn’t question. For him, it wasn’t just about the sensation; it was about the connection, the way it brought him closer to you.  

Masochism, for Sol, wasn’t about pain tolerance. It wasn’t about how much he could take. It was about the way he found a strange, twisted kind of comfort in it. The pain wasn’t the point; it was the context, the giver—you. Sol would never seek out pain for its own sake, but if it was for you, if it meant being close to you, he’d endure anything.  

Even in the game, he seemed to attract hardship like a magnet, always the one taking the hits—physically and emotionally. Whether it was the bullies who thought he was an easy target or the way he seemed to hurt himself just to prove his devotion to you, Sol carried it all with a quiet, unshakable resolve. Because, at the end of the day, it wasn’t about the pain. It was about you.  

And he’d never stop. For Sol, loving you wasn’t just a choice—it was a part of who he was. If being close to you meant enduring the worst the world could throw at him, he’d take it all with a smile. Because that’s who Sol is. A damn masochist.  

And he wouldn’t have it any other way.  

✑ Somnophillia 

It was inevitable, wasn’t it? Everyone could see this coming from a mile away—there was simply no other possibility. Sol, in all his twisted complexity, had long blurred the line between obsession and affection, his love taking on forms most would never dare to comprehend. 

Some might accuse him of holding darker urges, like necrophilia, drawn to the lifelessness of the dead. But no, that isn’t Sol. Despite his obsessions, there was a deep-rooted sentimentality within him—a refusal to let go, to lose. If anything, he had made it clear in his own hauntingly poetic way: he’d rather die with you than live without you. 

Yet, that didn’t mean his desires were any less unnerving. No, Sol’s particular brand of affection manifested in somnophilia, a fascination with the vulnerability of sleep, the beauty of your unconscious form. To him, those moments were sacred—your body relaxed, your mind adrift in dreams. It was when he felt closest to you, unguarded and free from the chaos of the waking world.  

Before your relationship, it started innocuously enough—or so it seemed. He’d find ways to end up at your apartment, invited by some pretense or perhaps even through sheer charisma. And then, ever so subtly, he’d lace your drink with something to make you drowsy, to keep you from suspecting as his fingers ghosted on you. 

You lay there, utterly still, utterly serene, your chest rising and falling with the kind of peaceful rhythm that seemed to still the chaos of the world around you.  

It was maddening, the way you looked so untouched by the noise that haunted him, your lips slightly parted, the barest whisper of breath escaping them. Every exhale was a siren call, soft and unassuming, but it gripped him like a vice.  

His gaze wandered, helplessly drawn down the curve of your cheek to your lips. They looked soft, and inviting in a way that felt almost cruel. He wanted to press his own to them, to taste whatever peace you’d found and see if he could borrow just a fraction of it for himself.  

But it wasn’t just your lips. His eyes traced lower, following the lines of your body, the way your clothes clung to you, hinting at the form beneath. He shouldn’t be thinking like this—he knew he shouldn’t. And yet the thought of you, warm and pliant beneath him, invaded his mind, unrelenting.  

He swallowed hard, trying to shake it off, but the more he fought, the more vivid the thoughts became. The sound of your soft sighs, the way you’d move under his touch, how you’d look at him—not like this, not sleepily and unaware, but awake, wanting.  

God, he was losing it.  

Sol leaned back, running a hand through his hair, forcing his gaze away from you for a moment. But it didn’t matter—your image was burned into his mind, and there was no escape. Watching you sleep was his guilty pleasure, though his guilt barely lasted long enough to stop him from pressing further. 

Once the two of you were together, the dynamics shifted, but only slightly. Sol’s obsession deepened, and the lines of consent became more of a gray haze in his mind. To him, love was devotion—complete and all-encompassing. And if you loved him, shouldn’t you accept him entirely? Shouldn’t you trust him to care for you, even when you weren’t awake to see it? 

He was careful, always so careful with you, so don’t worry! 

His lips found their way to the sensitive curve of your inner thigh, his movements slow and deliberate as if savoring every second of this quiet moment. You stirred faintly, a sleepy whimper escaping your lips as the warmth of his mouth brushed against you, teasing and tender.

Sol’s hands gripped your hips gently but firmly; his fingers splayed across your skin to hold you in place. You tried to shift, your body instinctively responding to the soft, wet pressure of his tongue on your needy cunt, but his strength was unyielding.

“Shh,” he murmured, his voice a low, gravelly whisper in the stillness. One hand slid up to brush a stray lock of hair from your face, his thumb lingering for a moment as he marveled at the serene expression you wore, so unaware of the devotion he poured into every touch. “You’re even more beautiful like this,” he breathed, his words an intimate confession meant only for the dark.

To Sol, this meant everything. 

This was the essence of love itself—intimacy beyond words, a bond that transcended anything others could hope to understand. He wasn't like anyone else; he knew that, and perhaps that’s what made this feel so special. So sacred. There was a quiet possessiveness in the way he worshiped you, a deep yearning to etch himself into every corner of your being, to ensure no one else could ever touch the part of you that belonged to him.

And as you stirred again, a soft moan escaping your lips, Sol smirked against your skin, the faintest edge of smug satisfaction curling at the corner of his mouth. You might not fully wake, but you’d feel him—his touch, his adoration, eventually his cock. You’d know, even in sleep, that you were his world.

To be with him, you’d have to accept all of him. Even the shadowed obsession that came with it. 

[madamechrissy]

✞ Forgive me For I have Sinned ✞

✞ Pairings: Priest Gojo x Fem Reader

✞ Word count - 5.7k

✞ Content/Warnings- You keep having dreams about Father Gojo, and he decides to try to save your slutty soul <3 NSFW, sacrilegious, confessional fucking, rosaries as bondage, lots of filling you w/love and light, oral (both receiving) fingering, explicit church sex, reader is a lil bimbo and innocent fr, Gojo has a HELL of a God complex (canon tbh) overall kinky asf

A/N- Booking the tix to hell-who's coming with!? I based off this drabble of mine: Priest! Gojo (you can read it first if you want!) Reader and Gojo are in their mid 20s. Enjoy!

It was hot outside, a scorching summer day, the type that made you want to jump in an icy cool lake naked, but in the sanctuary of this pristine church which is kept rather cool, you still have a drip of sweat beading down your collarbone. You’re wearing a pretty red summer dress, your little hat right next to you in the pew, as you watch him with avid attention.

Father Satoru Gojo.

The entire church is in love with him, enamored by him, there are admiring whispers even amongst the most vigilant catholics, the ones who would judge you for coming not in your Sunday best. They hid it well enough, acting as if they only cared so much because his sermons were so powerful, because he was so young and profound already.

But you know better, and they know better deep down, that Father Gojo was just gorgeous, a face chiseled to perfection, tall and broad shouldered, swoon worthy by all accounts. His husky voice and insane presence that shines brilliantly like a million diamonds certainly helps, but his face itself is so pretty it’s angelic.

When he looks at you with those brilliant blue eyes, swirling like a moody storm, all glittery behind those snowy white lashes? Well you feel…

You’re going to hell.

Last night you’d had this insane dream of him, where he has asked you to serve him on your knees, just as he would offer that eucharist and wine to you, but instead it’s his cum you’re swallowing. And you’re a good, God fearing girl, so, you certainly should not do or think of such things! And worst of all, with your priest, Father Gojo. He has vows too, yet you’d committed much sin already.

Just last night you’d awakened throbbing, having dreamt of pleasuring him, on your knees before him, and you’d been soaking wet and dripping down your shorts, even the sheet had a wet spot. You’d rubbed your swollen little clit in circles, gasping and arching your back, feeling fevered as you committed such sins, as picturing Father Gojo had you climaxing all over your own fingers.

You’d been so ashamed this morning! You’d splashed cold water on your face, staring at yourself in your mirror, shivering as the cool water dripped down your skin, knowing you should stay home, find some new church. You are full of impure thoughts and sin, and it’s all because of him, how could you confide in him that you feel this way, think this way?

What would he do if he knew? Cast you out or…

Stop it.

But as you’re crossing your legs, shifting your hips, you see Satoru Gojo’s full, pouty lips part, his eyes directly on you. You pause then, eyes wide, you must be imagining it, your sin surely is carrying over too far… but you test it, crossing your legs once more, and sure enough, his eyes follow your legs up, between your thighs, surely seeing your panties.

That gives you a fucking thrill you can’t describe, as does him licking his thumb, going to another page as he continues his sermon, women all over are fanning themselves, enamored by him. But perhaps none so much as you, picturing what’s under that cassock, under those white robes he wears, what that long, lithe body would feel like against yours.

You imagine your dream vividly later when he’s giving you the eucharist, placing the biscuit on your tongue as you hold your mouth open on your knees, then you see it, the hunger mirrored in his eyes. You tremble when he brushes a thumb over your lower lip, and your eyes drift to his lap, where you clearly see he’s hard. You gulp it down, looking up at him and taking the wine now.

Father Gojo looks down at you, white hair falling over a brow, finding your beautiful eyes are affecting him as much as your stance on your knees, his thumb finds your chin now, imagining shoving his cock between perfect lips. Surely, you are here to tempt him, to ruin him, you are sin itself, haunting his dreams, making him hard in the middle of church, right in his own service.

You look at it then, his cock under the cassock that’s becoming too tight, before licking your lip, eyes back up to his hungrily. You look like such a good girl, but your eyes tell another story, a story of wanting to get fucked hard, to be filled by him, wanting to have his cum all over your pretty face. He imagines that as the wine drips down your lips now.

Fuck he’s going to hell if he stays around you, surely even he has rules to uphold even if he certainly is God’s chosen. But… perhaps since he is God's chosen, it’s his duty to help a little sinful girl like you. And as you rise, holding his hand, and your breasts brush against his chest, you’re far too close, he vividly pictures yanking them out of that dress, tempting him to no end.

Of course you ask for confessional, and he’s dying at the thought of being so close to you, when all he thinks of is how good you look, how good you smell, and he is left to wonder, do you taste that good? Your pretty neck, your delicate collarbone, your pussy? Surely he should not think such things, but as he looks at you through the lattice of the confessional separating you both, he cannot stop his mind.

“Father Gojo… I fear my confession is most wicked.” Comes your breathy little voice, only serving to make Father Gojo’s thick length harden, picturing what your little moans must sound like when properly fucked.

“Go on, my pr- my child, you may tell me anything.” He says, coughing a bit, because he’d rather call you a pretty little slut, and he has no clue why the devil likes to try him so hard. It’s all your fault, truly. Pretty little thing.

“Okay… but…” You take a breath. “I have dreams of someone fucking me, someone I should not.” You say nervously, and watch him shift in his seat, you can smell his cologne so much in here, making you thirst more for him.

“It’s natural to have thoughts, my child.”

“No, Father Gojo… I’m playing with myself, thinking of him. Of… sucking him, or of him laying on top of me.” You hear Father Gojo making a choking sound, and you panic. “I’m so sorry! I…”

“Ahem, no, no… continue.” Father Gojo’s cock is straining, he can already feel precum sticking to his tip, picuring you touching your pussy, he bets it’s so pretty, bet it tastes so-

Sinful girl, aren’t you?

Surely that’s all this is, not… him wanting to sin! Father Satoru Gojo certainly is perfect, he’s God’s perfect creature, so if he wants this, it must be on you. Sin in a perfect little body with a perfect little face, and a voice that drives him to utter distraction. Surely, Father Gojo must try to save you.

“Father, I cannot stop thinking of him, he’s in all my dreams. What should my penance be, how many hail marys?”

Father Gojo has to stroke himself to adjust his huge, throbbing cock now, as he watches you through the lattice, biting your full lower lip, your head falling back, hair cascading. Hair he wants to pull as he fucks you from behind, making you arch your back to take more of his cock.

“I have to ask how you’re doing it… so that I can tell you your penance, so that I may try to save you.” He says, husky now, and you whimper softly, shifting on the bench, your pussy throbbing around nothing, picturing his cock filling you.

“How I do it, Father Gojo?”

“Yes, it’s… important to confess.”

“Well, I take my fingers, and I find my pussy with them, I roll them around my clit over and over, I get so wet that they slip- Father are you okay?” Satoru can’t stand it, he’s stroking his bare cock under his robes, resting his head against the wall, struggling not to cry out as he’s pumping.

“Ahem… indeed I am. So you finger your little pussy then?” At his words you’re a blushing mess, breaths coming more rapidly, your hands gripping the bench, dying for friction as you’re soaking your panties.

“Y-yes.”

“Do you slip your fingers in?”

“I… no! Um… no.”

“And you cum?”

“I… yes. I do cum. Imagining him.” You’re watching those robes rise and fall, then you know it, Father Gojo is stroking his cock right next to you.

“I see… I think I can help alleviate some of this, perhaps give you some guidance so that you do not afflict yourself so.” You want to touch yourself now, when you hear those breathy pants, your fingers clinging to the lattice.

“Yes, father, I need your guidance.” Cock, fingers, mouth… fuck you’re a full sinner, aren’t you!?

“Then come here, let us have our first attempt at saving you.”

Now you’re standing in front of him in the itty bitty room, face to face with Satoru Gojo, your Priest, and fuck if your nipples don’t tighten up, if your tummy isn’t clenching with desire. You’re nervously fiddling with your hands as he leans back, spreading his long legs as wide as they can in the tight quarters, his glittering blue eyes dilated as he licks his lips, making them glossy.

“You must show me how, and do not fret, sweet girl, it’s through god’s will of course, through me.” Father Gojo says, your breaths come faster as you slip up your sundress, and his eyes hungrily drink the sight of your bare thighs in. He leans forward, sliding those panties down, eyeing your glistening cunt now, his breath almost hitting it, making you jerk.

“Father… I cannot show you…”

“You can, I am here to help, have no fear.” He notices you’ve drenched your panties, a wet spot formed, sticky little strands of your arousal apparent as he pulls them down, hands touching the smooth skin of your thighs.

You put your hand on your pussy now, the other nervously holding up your dress, and you run your fingers in circles on your clit, crying out softly, as he lets out a low, guttural moan. You’re getting wetter as you play, as his large, sexy hands clench, the veins popping up out of the thin skin, and you’re trembling, imagining his long fingers working you instead.

Satoru is close to cumming as he watches your pretty face, your brows drawing together, your lips parted, eyes so dilated your pupils are taking over, just a thin ring of your iris left. Your lashes are lowered, and his hand stops yours now, as it’s playing with your soppy little cunt, you tremble before him.

“I see, I must help you, guide you. To get this… affliction taken care of. Yes?” You nod eagerly, then Father Gojo pulls you to his lap, and you’re straddling him, your hands sliding up to feel his strong shoulders under his robe, and he is touching your pussy instead, making you whimper. “Need me to save you, pretty little sinner?”

“Please save me. Please. Ah!” Satoru sinks two long fingers deep inside your eager little entrance, you gasp at it as he slips into your gummy walls, drippy and so tight. He’s paused, moaning and looking right into your eyes, you drown in his blue gaze, as your cunt drools down his hand. “Father Gojo… please…”

“Begging for it, are you? So tight, it’s so… have you had anything inside this perfect little pussy?” He huffs, feeling how you’re squeezing his fingers, then he hits some spot that makes you see stars, pumping up and down over and over. You cling to him, eyes fluttering shut. “Answer me, be a good girl for once, would you?”

Good girl for once.

There’s no hope for you.

“Nothing… no one… just you, Father Gojo. Mmm!” You’re covering your mouth as he keeps pumping, and he moans, dreaming of breaking you in all the ways he could, taking your innocence for himself. It’s surely what god is wanting, and who is he but god’s disciple himself? He thrusts those fingers knuckles deep, watching you fall apart over him.

“There, you’re loving this, fingers stretching your pussy, don’t you?” You nod weakly, gushing down his hand, you can hear the squishing wetness of your pussy as he now slides a thumb, rolling it over your clit.

“F-father Gojo!”

“Sinful girl.” He huffs, as you’ve buried your face against his neck, rocking against his hand, those long fingers fucking you so good it’s painful, moaning.

“Mmm! Father Gojo, I will… be good… for you…”

“Will you?” You nod weakly, as Satoru rolls your clit expertly, and you feel the pressure building, you’re panting, ready to combust. “I feel it, you’re so close, aren’t you?”

You’re nodding, hips grinding, now you’re soaking his robes, he’s picturing sliding his cock inside you, breaking you, until your sins are cleansed, and you’re picturing him taking you, defiling you in every way your hectic mind can picture. Both of you are about to cum, you’re not even touching Satoru though, you want to, fuck you want to.

“Close, m’close… p-please…” You’re begging for release, seeing stars as he works your now sloppy cunt.

“I've got you, you can let go, you're safe with me, let me see your sins so I can cleanse them.” He urges you on, bringing you higher and higher with those long, slick fingers.

“Father, it's... I'm gonna... mmm!” You're so close, soaking the sleeve of his robe now. And he's so ready to slide into your eager cunt, looking up at you behind snowy lashes.

“Show me how you sin, let me watch you cum, so I can... help you.” He whispers, and you fall apart then, pulsing around his fingers, and he groans as he watches you, pressing up so deep. You’re gushing so much arousal, he can smell your sweet scent, as you scream out into your little hand, shaking.

Satoru is now sliding his fingers out, you whine, wanting more, especially when he is sucking your juices off his fingers, making you gasp. His cheeks hollow, his eyes fluttering shut as he tastes you, your mouth drops open, breaths making you quicken, your heart pounding in your ears as you try to come down.

Your thighs are trembling over him, entire body lit up from cumming so hard, his snowy lashes cast shadows on his cheeks, before fluttering up, looking at you, your arousal coating his lips. “Oh my God.”

More sinning.

“You’re not being a very good girl.” He admonishes, but then his lips quirk up. “But, you taste too sweet to be bad. Or perhaps you yourself are sin.” Father Gojo whispers to you now, and you’re leaning closer, rolling your hips, making him groan, his hands gripping your little waist as your heat brushes against his cock. “Has it alleviated some of your… need, my child?”

He’s smirking at you, in a way no priest should! You sigh then, shaking your head. “No, Father, it’s only made it worse! You must help me more, I’m afraid now I’m thinking of sinning even more, and who I’ve been dreaming of.” You say then, it’s a whisper, as the room is hot from your breaths, smelling like sweet arousal.

Satoru blinks then, thin white brows going together, jaw clenching. “You’re thinking of fucking your own priest? That is a sin.”

“I know! It’s a terrible affliction. Oh Father, I’m going to hell.” You whisper, blinking back tears, still reeling from the aftershocks of cumming. Satoru arches his hips now, brushing his cock against your pussy, and you nearly scream out, head falling back, exposing your throat to him, and he pictures his hand wrapping a rosary around your neck, pulling tight.

You’ve dreamt of him too!? Surely this must be a sign.

A temptation.

But does he want to fight it? Your taste is all over his mouth now, as he feels your sexy little body against him, his hands brushing against your breasts, watching your nipples perk up. You look at him with intoxicated eyes, lips parted, your tiny hands clinging to his robes as you grind again, and he shudders at how fucking good it feels, your heat on him.

“I see… Well you must come to me tomorrow, and we will have to try harder, to save your soul.” He says huskily, you nod eagerly, as he helps you off him, his cock close to cumming, already twitching, he slides your soaked, ruined panties into his robes, you surely do not need them anymore.

“What if I have another dream father!”

“Do not touch yourself, I will help you when you come in, that’s so we can try to save you, yes?” You nod then, leaning close to his lips.

“Father, is it a sin to kiss your lips?”

“Not if you feel a calling, surely God wishes you to.” He murmurs, and you peck a sweet kiss on his lips, tasting yourself on him, before forcing yourself out of the cramped quarters, body on fire, leaving Satoru to finish stroking his cock, cumming as he shoves your panties against his face.

******

You’re dreaming of him again, of Father Gojo, this time his snowy white hair is brushing against your thighs, his tongue is lapping up all the dripping wetness, his big hands pressing into the plush of your thighs. You wake up throbbing, crying out, seeing how wet you are, as the ceiling fan whirls, failing to cool your overheated flesh. Father Gojo’s fingers made it worse, your affliction!

The next day you’re painfully turned on, pussy aching for more, you followed his instructions and did not touch yourself, instead you forced yourself to go back to sleep, now you’re in the nearly empty church, knocking at the door of Father Gojo’s office. You hear his deep voice speak.

“Come in.” You nervously walk in, you are wearing a shorter blue sundress today, and no panties. You know Father Gojo will see how sinful you are, but when you see his perfect face, and him wearing a thinner, lighter white robe, your pussy is already making your thighs sticky. “My child, lock that door, so we can have privacy… we would not want your confessions judged.”

“Yes, thank you Father.” You lock the door with a click, stepping to him, your heels clicking on the wooden floor of his room. He’s sitting in his chair, fingers steepled, studying your body carefully.

“Do you have any updates on your affliction, pretty girl?”

“Pretty girl…” You’re blushing worse now.

“I feel I must call you what the lord is telling me. Is that alright with you?” You nod nervously, standing before him, the desk separating you. “So how were your dreams last night?”

“They were of you again, Father Gojo. I’m so sorry!”

You cover your face in embarrassment, hearing the soft thumps of his shoes as he comes to you, taking you by your wrists, big hands enveloping the delicate wrists entirely. Your head tilts back to look at him, he’s so tall and big… you’re drinking in the sight of him, his black rosaries hanging across his broad chest.

“You must tell me these dreams, so I may help you. Perhaps they’re some sign that we must see.”

“You… you were licking me, between my thighs.” His nostrils flare slightly, those swirling blue eyes thirsty as he studies you, your thighs shift, his hands still tight on your wrists.

“Your slutty little pussy, I was licking it?” Your pussy is clenching, tummy coiling, at his nasty, sinful words, from such a pure man. You nod then. “I see, there’s no choice, we must see what enacting your dreams does. To try to save you.”

“Y-yes, father, I think so too.” You whisper, hands sliding up and down his chest, watching his Adam's apple bob under that white collar. “Does it ever get uncomfortable, Father Gojo?”

“At times. Take it off for me.” He turns and you undo the collar, when he turns back you see it, his strong neck, the muscles corded, you bite your lower lip, earning him pulling it from your teeth. “This dream, describe it, so I can help you.”

You’re a flustered mess, especially after his fingers yesterday, and all the dreams you’ve been having. You take several breaths now. “You were licking me.”

“More descriptive.” He murmurs now, sitting you up on his desk, shocking you, then he slides up your skirt and smirks, wicked priest that he is, blue eyes darting back up to yours. “No panties, your soul is so slutty.”

“I… well… Father Gojo!” Satoru’s rubbing your clit with his thumb, watching you writhe on his desk now, as he sits back in his black chair, scooting up, his breath right against you.

“You wanted this, to be bare in front of me, didn’t you pretty little sinner?”

“Y-yes, I told you, I’m going to hell, mmm!”

He’s kissing your thighs, your hands enwrap in his silky white hair now, his breaths higher and higher, eying your perfect, glistening pussy. He’s dying to feel you dripping down his tongue, dying to drink your sweet nectar flowing when he’s opening up the lips of your pussy, and you’re making those pretty sounds, you’re so pathetic already, he thinks.

“No, I will save you, don’t you believe in me, pretty? I alone speak for God, I’m the honored one.” His words along with his eyes, those glittery blue storms that see right through you, as if they know your every sin, wreck you now. He surely must be the honored one.

“You’ll save me, I know you will.” You whisper, caressing his cheek now, and he moans softly, just urging you on more.

“That’s a good girl. Now tell me, what did I do in this dream?”

“You licked me, here.” You touch your slit, and he slides his tongue up it now, making you gasp, his tongue is so hot and wet, you’re gushing just from that. Satoru moans, kissing right over your clit before swiping his tongue again. “Father!”

“Shh, lest they hear your sinful mouth.” He whispers, and you clench your teeth, nodding as you watch him, he is placing your feet on either arm of his chair. “And you did not play with yourself?”

“I swear I did not, Father Gojo! I listened. Please…” You arch your hips up, full pussy in his face, and Satoru begins to devour you now, spreading your lips and flicking his tongue on your little swollen clit over and over. You have to slap a hand over your mouth, his rosary is cool against your inner thigh as he works your pussy, just like your dream.

Satoru’s tongue is wicked, for such a holy man you think, and it does the most wicked things to you, no dream could prepare you, even his fingers had not. He sucks your clit into his hot open mouth, moaning as your juices coat his tongue, looking up at you as you cling to his hair with one hand, the other muffling your cry as you feel yourself begin to cum.

Soon you are cumming right on Father Gojo’s face, your thighs shaking on either side of his head, pussy pulsing around nothing, and he’s drinking you up, so lewd in the quiet church office. You’re jerking now, as he leans up, half his pretty face shining with your slick, making you flush at how much there was. Your hand eases down, now just gasping for breath as you look at him.

“And now, my child, how is this affliction?” He whispers, leaning up and laying atop you, pressing you into the wooden desk. You lean up, kissing him once more, earning his moan, tasting yourself all over him, he grabs you by the throat then, long fingers wrapping as he pulls back. “How hard do I have to work to save your slutty little soul, hmm?”

“I’m sorry, Father Gojo. It was so amazing… but I just want more, I fear I’m having more lustful thoughts of you now.” Your hand slides down now, cupping him where he’s thick and hard, and he squeezes your throat harder now, his thumb on your racing pulse.

“And what else is in that little brain of yours? What lewd fantasies of your priest, hmm?”

“Sucking your cock, that’s what.” He groans now, pulling you down and putting you to your knees. You look up eagerly, now Satoru is undressing, and you finally get glimpses of his body, of hard muscles and planes as he’s taking off his robes, now opening his pants for you, revealing a huge, thick cock. You gulp as you drink in the sight of it.

“And do you know what to do, how to serve me, my child?” He asks, you shake your head. “Yet you’ve dreamt it?”

“Yes, Father.”

“Then it’s surely meant to be, hmm? First, slide down your top.” You do as he says, and he moans as he sits back in his chair, gripping your bare breasts. “My God,  you’re made to ruin me. Come here, open your mouth.”

You do as he says, and Father Gojo now guides you by your hair, hair he wraps around his fist, guiding you down on his cock. His curved pink tip is leaking white pearly substance, which you tongue out, earning his grown, his head falling back. You suck him eagerly, swirling your tongue, as his eyes watch you, lidded and dazed, tasting his saltiness and sweetness eagerly.

“You’re far too good at this, are you sure you haven’t been sucking cock, like a sinful brat?” You pull back with a pop, saliva dripping down your lips.

“No, I only want to serve you, Father.”

“Mmm, you’re so precious.” He whispers, before shoving your mouth back on him, and you’re bobbing up and down as he pulls your hair, using it to glide you up and down his length. Your eyes water, your nose starts running as his cock is choking you, your pussy throbbing even more. “Fuck…”

“Father, did you cuss?” You ask, pulling back, with a shy little grin, earning Father Gojo’s smirk.

“I’m allowed to, it’s all God’s words. Now are you finally satisfied, or do we need to go further? Do I need to break your pretty little pussy?” He murmurs, his words like a drug, running his thumb across your lower lip. You nod then, weakly, and his lips part, eyes studying you. “Then ask me, on your knees so pretty, like you’re praying.” He puts your hands in prayer position, blue eyes lighting up.

“Please, break me, Father Gojo.” He pulls you up now, kissing you deeply, tongues so unpracticed and messy, you’ve never really even kissed, but now you feel him, filling you once more with those two fingers as he bends low.

“Turn around and bend over, sweet sinner.” You turn, and now Father Gojo has slid your dress down, leaving you in just your heels, his big hands gliding down every line and curve of your bare body. “I said bend over.”

He smacks you sharply on your backside, making you gasp then whine out, as he presses your upper back between your shoulder blades, your face against his desk. He then takes your hands, putting them behind your back and wrapping them with his black beaded rosary. You whine out at the sensation, he pulls it so tightly it’s digging in, shoving the cross in your palms.

“Hold on to that cross while I fuck your innocent little pussy. Feel it against your skin as I do.” He says, whispering in your ear. You nod, feeling the sharp cool silver digging in, as the beads dig into your bound wrists. “Good girl, spread those thighs.”

You do as he says, and then his tip is in, stretching you, and you’re shivering, breaths coming faster and faster. Satoru shoves his cock inside you, tearing at your little barrier. You cry out at the pain, and he pauses for a moment, moaning, letting you adjust. “H-hurts…”

“Just a moment of pain to fill you with my light.” He murmurs, sinking deeper, and your walls are fluttering around his cock, earning his groan. “You’re so wet for me, aren’t you? Did you want me to take it, your innocence?”

“I’ve w-wanted you, so long… played with… a long ah- time.” He moans now, sliding back out and in, you’re so wet and ready the pain eases quickly, as he takes you from behind now, pulling on your neck, pressing your bound hands firmer against your back, whispering in your ear.

“You sinned so long, playing with this pussy thinking of me?” You nod weakly, hiccuping on a cry as he’s pumping now, taking you over, stretching your tight cunt out so much, your skin burns, but you crave it.

You’re going to hell, surely.

But it seems worth it to be stretched by his cock so well.

“Y-yes… a long time. S-sorry Father…”

“Just Satoru when you cum all over my cock, hmm?” You nod weakly, then he fucks you harder now, thighs smacking your skin, his pelvis smacking your now sore ass cheeks, balls smacking your clit. “Ah, and you’re close already and your first time? You were made for this, weren’t you?”

“Yes, yes, yes, Satoru!” You scream out so loud he’s palming your mouth with his huge hand, taking over your face, shoving his cock in and rolling his hips, making you climax so hard you cannot see. You weakly drool out of your lips onto his hand, as he feels your velvety walls fluttering around him.

You are made for this, for his cock, to take him. Your sweet virgin pussy is getting so filled by Father Gojo’s huge cock, but you’re already taking him so well. Father Gojo knows then that your dreams and his must be for a better purpose, to fuck you and fill you with all of his light, surely. You’re taking him more and more, cumming so hard your cunt is drooling everywhere.

He lets your face go, looking at your fucked out expression, your mouth is wide open, that drool dangling out the corner, your eyes are rolled back, lashes fluttering, your ass arching up for more. You’re such a sinful creature, but he knows your innocence was made for just him, clearly. You would not have anyone else, he would surely see to it.

It’s God's calling.

You’re pounded and stuffed by his huge cock, your breasts bouncing with each thrust, ass jiggling with the force, then Satoru pulls your chin to face him, he’s so fuzzy, you keep shutting your eyes.

“Look at me, my child, now.” He whispers, and you open your eyes, staring into his weakly as his thrusts slow.

“Y-yes, Satoru…” He moans at the use of his name from your pretty lips.

“I’m saving you, through… mmm… God’s wisdom.”

“Thank you, thank you!” You’re trembling, he’s rolling his hips and that tip is dragging on your spot, you struggle to focus on his pretty face, the sun from the blinds filtering in behind his head, and then he looks like an angel. The cross is digging in so much your hand is bleeding just a bit, but you truly couldn’t care, his cock feels too good inside you.

“Do you want me to… fill you…” He’s crying out then, grabbing you so tightly you can’t breathe. “With God’s love… and light?”

“Please, fill me Father- ah!” Satoru starts pumping faster and faster, yanking on your rosary so hard it breaks as he begins to cum, the beads flinging and clattering all over the wooden floor, the cross still digging into your broken palm.

“Going to put… so much… light in you… fill you-” He moans loudly then, and you feel hot liquid pumping inside, bringing you to cum with him, as it coats your walls, hot and sticky. “Feel it? Feel me filling you with it?”

“I do! I do… Father Gojo… feel it.” You whine out, rolling your hips to milk him for every bit of his hot white ropes.

“Oh… Mmm…” He’s pumping more cum inside you now, but you’re so wet and still convulsing, so it’s dripping down his cock with your arousal. Satoru exhales, pulling out and then wiping you up, turning you gently, gulping as he kisses you once more. “You were sent here to destroy me.”

“Father, I’m afraid… I only want to do it more.” You whisper, he groans, cupping your face, as you bring up your hand to him, where the cross has left red marks on your palm, he traces it, the perfect symbol of the cross, with little blood drops streaking. You wince in pain.

“I see, it’s a sign we must continue.” He says, and you nod eagerly, as he holds your hand in his.

“We must, Father Gojo.”

*****

The next Sunday, you’re sitting in the very front for the sermon, watching as Father Gojo is licking a thumb and turning a page, his blue eyes darting to your thighs, today you’re wearing a pink summer dress. Father Gojo has stolen a pair of your panties, he thinks you don’t notice, but you do, so you decide not to wear any again, opening your legs for a moment.

Father Gojo gets a glimpse of your bare, glistening pussy right in that church, making his cock hard in front of a room full of hundreds of his followers. Luckily the brown stand in front of him covers up such evidence, as he looks over at your face when you cross your sexy legs, you smile up at him, blinking innocently.

But you’re not innocent, not anymore, are you? No, you’re the worst sinner he’s tried to save, and he thinks he’ll have to work harder to save you. And when you’re riding his cock in the confessional later that evening, and he’s biting on your breasts, you’re riding him so well, moans muffled in the tiny room, he’s not sure he can save you truly, you’re too full of sin.

Father Gojo enjoys your slutty soul and your soaking wet pussy on him far, far too much, especially filling you with his cum light.

Serving Father Gojo is perfectly fine, it's God's will after all 🙏 Nanami and Geto drabbles coming some time too <3 Reblog if you're a sinner <3

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/60569476

[lowkeyren]

BUT YOU BELONG TO ME!

in which — some jealousy headcanons / scenarios for our favourite luofu men!

featuring — dan heng, blade, jing yuan (separately) x gn!reader

wc: total 1.8k, from req: here!, they're so silly goodbye, march + fu xuan cameo ;) reblogs w comments are appreciated, please enjoy!!!

#DAN HENG

look me in the eyes and tell me dan heng wouldn’t be the “i'm jealous, but i don’t wanna show it” (but it’s so PAINFULLY obvious that he’s jealous) type, you can’t.

definitely amusing to watch him play it cool, cus he has nothing else going on in his brain when you’re within 10 metre radius from him. 

honestly it would have to be quite specific situations if he ever gets jealous because he likes to keep you close by his side as often as possible. dating or not, he would have some sort of protective instinct —always making sure you’re secure and cared for. (and yes of course march teases him for it, he never admits it though.)

dan heng tries to focus on the book in his hands, but his mind refuses to make any sense of the words on the page —at least not when you’re standing so close to boothill. (too close for his liking anyway)

the cyborg sits at the opposite end of the couch where dan heng was, while you deftly adjust a compartment of his, engaging in small talk as he makes lighthearted jokes with you. dan heng hears your laughter ring out; the laughter that he adores so dearly, the laughter that never fails to warm his chest, and the laughter he wishes he was the reason for instead.

his eyes flicker up from the page to sneak a glance at you, the way your hands glide over boothill's body churns an ugly feeling, twisting in his chest. he shifts in his seat, trying to find a more comfortable position, but the unease remains.

his focus on you is suddenly shattered by a loud voice that belongs to no other than march, "dan heng, if you grip that book any harder, you might tear off a page." she stands in front of him, hands on her waist. 

“the way i am holding my book is perfectly fine, now if you will, i must get back to re—”

“oh c’mon! we all know your ass is not actually reading that book!” he raises an eyebrow, and march only rolls her eyes in response. “it’s literally upside-down.” she teases, unable to hold back a chuckle. 

dan heng glances down at the book in his hands, finally noticing the upside-down text, to which he quickly closes the book and puts it down. "maybe i was just testing your observational skills.”

march shakes her head, "yeah right… just admit you’re too busy staring at them!”

“no i’m n—” he begins to protest but is interrupted when you suddenly appear in front of him. “staring at who?” you tilt your head curiously, and he can only hope that you don’t hear the loud thumping of his heart. 

march giggles as she runs off to who-knows-where, he silently curses her for leaving him in this predicament. he manages to regain his composure, though his cheeks retain a faint pink hue. “ahem, anyway…” he trails off when you sit down next to him, your thighs brushing against each other.

alright you can’t keep doing this to him. he’s not a cyborg but it certainly seems like he’s malfunctioning at that moment. (though he doesn't mind if you have to “repair” him next; he considers it far preferable to having your hands on boothill anyway.)

#BLADE

this guy REEKS of jealousy. 

he gets jealous over anything —saying “good night!” to an acquaintance? well unfortunately, i don’t think they’re going to be having a very good night; a friendly smile from a passerby? the sudden chill in the air accompanied by his sharp glare is enough to make them rethink their life decisions. 

and the worst part? he knows it. he's aware of how irrational his jealousy can be, but that doesn't stop the surge of possessiveness that washes over him.

(deep down, he just wants to feel secure in your attention and affection, but it’s true that his jealousy sometimes gets the better of him.) 

blade’s “things to get rid of” list exponentially grows with each passing day, ranging from general items he sees no use of, to addresses of people who have wronged you in the past. 

but there’s one item on the list that stands out from the rest, the one item he can’t seem to bring himself to get rid of, no matter how hard he tries.

37. “blade plushie”

okay but what kind of website is “stellaron hunters fan merch for sell.com” anyway? since when do they have a fanbase, and why did you have to buy a plushie of him, of all things? 

he shoots daggers at the plushie sitting on your bed, on his side of your bed. while he can't always be by your side, surely there's no need for an inferior replacement?

blade sits down beside you, discreetly moving the plushie out of the way. just as you turn to reach for it, he wraps his arm around you and snuggles up to your side; you immediately pause at his affectionate gesture; his hair brushes against your neck as he buries his face into it.

“blade.. what are you doing?” you turn your attention to him, much to his delight. 

“why not spend more time with the real deal instead of… that.” he tightens his grip around you, at this point he isn’t even trying to hide his jealousy (over a plushie lmao) anymore. 

"you mean mr. edgelord...?" you barely manage to stifle your laughter as blade shoots up beside you. doesn’t hurt to tease him for a bit, right?

“what did you say… “edgelord”?” he scoffs, his face twisting into a scowl. he can’t believe you gave that thing a nickname, how ridiculous. he makes a mental note to get rid of it asap. 

“yeah, what about it? jealous that he’s better than you?” you smirk, leaning in close to his face. perhaps you’re enjoying his expression of pure bitterness a little too much, who knew such a handsome face could look so hilariously indignant? 

his eyes twinkle in amusement, before closing in the distance. “hah, never.” his tone tinged with a touch of possessiveness that he can't quite hide.

“really? you seem like you’re about to kill it.” you wrap your arms around his neck, his expression softens for just a split second, but you’re able to catch it anyway. “would you please spare mr. edgelord if i give you a kiss?”

he doesn’t respond with words; he presses his lips against yours, gently cradling the back of your head. (you quickly turn mr. edgelord to face the wall before blade pulls you away)

maybe he’ll spare “it” for another day or so, just don’t let him catch you hugging “it” in your sleep again, alas you want “it” to suffer the same fate as the others on his list.

#JING YUAN

hmm our beloved general… well he trusts you, and believes that you won’t do anything rash; but on the other hand there are just some things that neither of you can control, whether it’s letters sent in to ask for his hand in marriage or admires trying to sweep you off your feet (before he can). 

though not many people would approach you once your relationship goes public, given that he’s the general and all. but imagine him before the two of you became official, clinging to you to fend off your admirers, and the expression on their faces when you shake your head, denying that you’re dating at all. 

“as for the situation at cloudford— general, are you even listening?” fu xuan furrows her brows, and crosses her arms, clearly annoyed. “ah my apologies lady fu, please keep going.” jing yuan only flashes a half-hearted smile at her before glancing over to your direction again.

you feel a pair of eyes boring into your back, undoubtedly jing yuan’s; but you pay it no mind, choosing to focus on the discussion at hand. his grip on his teacup tightens when he sees the foxian talking to you leans closer to catch your words. fu xuan raises an eyebrow in concern, unaware but still sensing the rising tension; his eyes visibly twitch the moment their hand brushes against yours.

“lady fu, let’s reschedule our meeting for another time. i believe i have some… important matters to attend to.” jing yuan rises up from his seat before fu xuan can reply, swiftly making his way towards you.

you’re startled by the sudden feeling of jing yuan’s arms around you, his chest pressing against your back, as he places his chin against your head. “sorry to interrupt, what’re you two discussing about?” the foxian is taken aback by the general's sudden appearance, and especially by your current position with him. 

“n-nothing general!” the foxian seems to hesitate before continuing, “if it isn’t rude to ask, are the two of you…in a relationship?” jing yuan’s face lights up with his usual lazy smile, but this time it doesn't quite reach his eyes.

your eyes widen in surprise as he presses his lips against your nape, you shiver at his touch, a rush of warmth spreads across your cheeks. you should deny it, to say that you're not in a relationship at all, but you can't bring yourself to. instead, you divert your gaze from the foxian, hoping to spare yourself any further embarrassment.

“go on, tell them.” he whispers lowly so that only you can hear him. this bastard, you’re going to give him a stern talking to after this..! “sorry to cut this short, please excuse us.” you give a polite nod before pulling the general away.

two days later, as you’re walking along the streets of central starskiff haven, you come across a group of people gathered around a stall. curious, you head over to check out what’s happening. —you’re absolutely mortified to discover stacks of articles detailing recent events of you and jing yuan.

“breaking news! the general is secretly married?!” / “the truth behind general jing yuan’s relationship status” / “rumours confirmed: a detailed guide to the general of luofu’s relationship saga”

well at least the pictures of you and jing yuan got your good side… and your bad side, and your “i definitely did not sign up for this” side. and oh look, there’s one of you dragging jing yuan by his ponytail too, how wonderful, you’re definitely purchasing that one. 

but yeah no, you’re not beating the allegations after this. 

masterlist

[icanimagine08]

Whipped

Summary: Yoon Jeonghan gets teased by the rest of seventeen for being whipped for his girl.

Warnings: none! Just Fluff.

Word Count: 773

I couldn't wait to post so here is another Yoon Jeonghan fic. Hope you guys enjoy this! and if you have any requests for any other members/people/characters feel free to request/ask me anything and I'll see what I can do! Happy reading! :)

Yoon Jeonghan of Seventeen wasn’t usually the type to wear his heart on his sleeve—at least, not when it came to romance. He was clever, always a step ahead, and had a teasing streak as wide as the Han River. But since he started dating you six months ago, Jeonghan’s members had noticed a... shift.

And they were having the time of their lives teasing him about it.

It started during a lazy afternoon at the dorm. The group had finished their schedules for the day, and the members were sprawled across the living room, half-watching a drama on TV. Jeonghan, who usually dominated conversations with his witty comebacks, was unusually quiet. His phone was in his hand, and he was smiling at the screen in a way that made the others take notice.

"Oh, would you look at that," Seungkwan said, his voice laced with mock surprise. "Our Hannie hyung is smiling. At his phone. Again."

Minghao leaned over from the couch, trying to catch a glimpse of Jeonghan's screen. "Is it her?"

Jeonghan’s smile disappeared as quickly as it had come, replaced with an annoyed pout. He locked his phone and turned it face down on the table. "Mind your own business, Minghao."

But the damage was done. The members perked up, sensing an opportunity to torment their usually unflappable hyung.

"Oh, it’s definitely her," Joshua chimed in, grinning. "Jeonghan only smiles like that when it’s about her."

"What did she say?" Woozi asked, though the slight upward tilt of his lips gave away that he was more amused than genuinely curious.

"Nothing," Jeonghan mumbled, slumping into the couch like he could disappear into the cushions.

"Nothing?" Vernon repeated, his eyebrows shooting up. "You were practically giggling."

"I don’t giggle," Jeonghan shot back, but the redness creeping up his neck betrayed him.

"Sure, sure," Seungkwan said, waving him off. "Hyung, we all know you’re whipped. Just admit it."

"I am not whipped," Jeonghan insisted, but his voice lacked its usual conviction.

"You absolutely are," Mingyu said, chuckling. "Remember last week when you asked the manager if you could get off early so you could take her to that café she likes?"

"That’s called being a good boyfriend," Jeonghan retorted, sitting up straighter. "Maybe you should take notes, Mingyu."

"A good boyfriend who’s whipped," Dino added, earning a high-five from Seungkwan.

Jeonghan groaned, dragging a hand down his face. "I regret introducing you all to her."

That wasn’t true, and they all knew it. From the moment you and Jeonghan had made your relationship official, the members had been nothing but supportive. They’d even gone so far as to declare you "the perfect match" for their mischievous angel, as you somehow managed to keep up with Jeonghan’s antics while also bringing out his softer side. But their enthusiasm also meant they saw every little way Jeonghan’s walls had come down, and they weren’t going to let him live it down.

"You’re so good for him," Seungkwan had told you during a group dinner a month ago, while Jeonghan had gone to get drinks. "It’s like you’re his kryptonite. He’s so soft for you."

Now, as Jeonghan endured their teasing, he couldn’t help but think of you and the way you’d probably laugh if you saw this. You’d tell him he deserved it, and honestly, he’d have to agree.

"Alright, that’s enough," Jeonghan said, trying to regain some semblance of control. "Yes, I’m dating someone amazing. Yes, I like doing nice things for her. Can we move on now?"

"Not yet," Seungkwan said, leaning forward with a sly grin. "Hyung, did you text her goodnight last night?"

"Of course I did," Jeonghan replied, without thinking.

"Aha!" Seungkwan pointed dramatically. "See? Whipped!"

The room erupted in laughter, and even Jeonghan couldn’t help but chuckle. He shook his head, a small smile playing on his lips despite himself.

"You’re all children," he muttered, but his tone was fond.

Later that evening, when the teasing had finally died down and the members had dispersed, Jeonghan found himself back on the couch, phone in hand. He opened your chat and started typing.

Jeonghan: Remind me why I put up with them again?

Your reply came almost instantly.

YN: Because they love you. And they’re right, you are kinda whipped.

Jeonghan groaned, but he couldn’t stop the grin spreading across his face. He typed back quickly.

Jeonghan: You’re lucky I love you.

YN: I know. ;)

Jeonghan set his phone down, leaning back against the couch, he closed his eyes with a content smile. If his members wanted to play, they’d better be ready for Jeonghan to play back

[little-diable]

Mine to Claim - Dean Winchester (smut)

While I'm still wondering if I should write for James Beaufort, I decided to run with the enemies to lovers theme for Dean. I know y'all love jealous Dean as much as I do. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: The reader wants Sam to have a nice birthday, but all she can focus on is Dean, the man she had always sworn to hate, the man who gets all possessive as soon as somebody else finds her interesting enough to chat her up.

Warnings: 18+, smut, piv, thigh riding, full on jealous Dean, Dean's a bit of a dick in the beginning, possessiveness, fluffy end

Pairing: Dean Winchester x fem!reader (about 4k words)

“A party? And who should we invite, huh?” Dean’s voice filled the library. He had his feet placed on the table, arms crossed in front of his chest while nursing his second beer of the night. 

(Y/n) had her eyes focused on the laptop, typing away as she tried to pierce ideas together to celebrate Sam’s birthday. But while she was set on putting something special together, trying to trap the man she couldn’t stand into helping her, Dean could only give room to annoying comments. 

“How about some werewolves, vampires maybe or a wendigo to make this exciting!” Sarcasm dripped from Dean’s words, leaving her groaning as she finally looked at the handsome Winchester brother. The two of them had never been fans of one another, but while (y/n) generally tried to keep her distance, Dean was set on annoying her at any given chance. She had lost count of the dates he had ruined for her, the friendships she had tried to build but had been torn down by him, no matter what she tried to do, Dean was always right there to cross her plans.

“Have you always been such an asshole or have you just not outgrown your teenager phase yet?” She shifted her weight onto her forearms while staring at Dean as if he was the most fascinating thing she had ever seen. His eyes had a twinkle to them as he mimicked her movements, taking his feet off the table to lean further towards her. 

“Don’t be like that, sweetheart, we both know you enjoy our dynamic more than you let others believe. You have never been good at hiding your crush on me.” The angry scoff clawing through (y/n) forced a chuckle out of Dean, who looked at her as if he had just goaled a win. Whenever he managed to rile her up, to get her angrier by the second, his smirk would grow as if he was proud of himself for getting under her skin like that. 

“Fuck you, Dean!” She rose to her feet, unexpectedly to Dean who now studied her with confusion laced in his gaze. “I’ll just take Sam out for dinner, anywhere without you near will be good enough.” 

(Y/n) tried to walk past him with angry tears welling up in her eyes, but she didn’t manage to get far, forced to a halt by the hand clamping down on her wrist. Dean stared up at her with an unreadable expression, shooting shudders down her spine while she tried to rip herself free. Something inside of her told her that he was close to apologising, urged on by the guilt he may feel, but the moment passed within seconds, forcing his smirk back to his lips.

“Dream of me tonight, sweetheart. But first, tell me, do you still sleep in my shirt?” The angry huff clawing through her made Dean chuckle, watching her rip herself free before storming out of the room. Her heart was aching in her chest, pounding against her ribs while her feet carried her towards her room. 

With her laptop tossed onto her bed, (y/n) allowed her tears to fall, urged on by her anger and confusion, torn between the way she had always detested Dean and the silent longing for him and his closeness. God, she hated him, hated him more than words could ever express, and yet a small, fucked up part of her wanted him and every part of him. 

It was time to finally get over Dean Winchester and the confusing emotions he pushed through her. 

……

“Thank you for this, (y/n). This is by far the best birthday I ever had.” Sam squeezed her shoulder as she looked up at him with a proud grin. She shot Sam another smile before she let her gaze wander, finding Dean’s frame. Even though she had tried to lure Sam away from his brother, knowing that the night wouldn’t end well if she and Dean would have to spend it together, Sam had begged her to take his brother with them, ending up at this very bar.

“Let me get you another beer, birthday boy. I’ll be back in a second.” (Y/n) rose to her feet with an unwavering smile, pushing past a few people to reach the bar. Music rang in her ears, not loud enough to leave her body buzzing, yet just enough to distract her from her wandering thoughts. 

“Hey,” an unfamiliar voice forced her attention away from the bartender, waiting for her to make her way towards (y/n). A guy was standing close to her, he was a bit taller than her, a handsome face she smiled at. “Is that your boyfriend?”

He tilted his head towards Sam, leaving her chuckling as (y/n) shook her head no. A relieved smile managed to find its way to the guy’s lips, he was visibly relaxing while taking a step closer. Even though her body begged her to chase the distance, her mind urged her to stay right where she was, reminding her of her promise to finally find a distraction from Dean Winchester.

“Are you from around here?” She kept her voice quiet as she studied the guy, the plaid shirt he wore and those dark jeans that had a similar touch to the ones Dean currently wore. For a second, she let her eyes wander, not paying attention to the words the guy spoke, but Dean was nowhere to be found, disappearing from her sight. 

“It’s my friend’s birthday today, so I’ll have to get back to him.” (Y/n) mumbled while she shot the guy another smile. She turned towards the bartender to speak her order before the guy could gain her attention again, with his phone in his hand.

“Give me your number, maybe I can take you out for dinner or something?” The soft chuckle leaving her made him smile, watching her type her number into his phone before reaching for the two bottles of beer. She took a step away from him, with her gaze still focused on him, but the second she turned away, (y/n) stumbled into a broad chest, having to tighten her grasp on the bottles before she could drop them. 

Wide eyes found a pair of familiar green ones, getting lost in the darkening pupils for a moment or two. Dean’s jaw muscles were ticking in anger as his gaze flickered between (y/n) and the guy she had been talking to. It took her a moment to rip herself out of her frozen state before she tried to push past Dean, though without any luck. 

“What did he want from you?” Dean’s voice had something to it she couldn’t pinpoint, something that left her insides churning; something that left her straightening her spine. Her eyes wandered over his angry features, allowing her to take in his handsome features. If he weren’t such an asshole to her, she would have instantly fallen hard for him, begging the man for a chance to love him like he deserved to be loved. 

“That’s nothing of your concern, Dean. Let me go.” But Dean didn’t give in, he tightened his grip on her arm to pull her even closer. 

“Oh, but we both know that it is, sweetheart.” She couldn’t find a reply, the words were stolen right from her as his lips graced her warm cheek with his eyes set on the guy who was still watching the two. And with another squeeze of her arm, he finally let go of her, only to gently push her into Sam’s direction. 

……

She woke with a groan, forcing her eyes open to take in the darkness surrounding her. Slowly, (y/n) rolled onto her side to reach for her phone, reading the time. It was in the middle of the night, only a few hours after they had found their way back home from the bar. 

Since that moment with Dean, (y/n) had been deep in thought, not understanding the way he had behaved at the bar. She crawled out of her bed with a sigh, set on grabbing a new glass of water to clear her thoughts. Still surrounded by darkness, she made her way to the kitchen, carried by tired limbs that begged her to make it back to bed. 

“I knew you were still stealing my shirts.” Dean’s voice left her jumping, ripping a squeal out of her as she turned towards him. He was leaning against the table, arms crossed in front of his chest, eyes set on her frame. Heat rose to her features as she remembered that she was once again wearing a shirt of his, and nothing more. 

“You jerk, why do you always have to scare me like that?” He walked closer to her, allowing her to find his pupils. His chest was almost pushed against hers while he wordlessly stared down at (y/n). She was close to speaking up again, set on throwing another insult his way to get herself out of this situation before she could say or do something stupid. But the second his hands found her waist to heave her onto the cold kitchen island, she forgot every word she had planned to speak. 

“Did that guy call you?” His voice was raspy, making goosebumps appear on her exposed skin. (Y/n) could barely focus on his voice, distracted by the feeling of Dean lingering between her spread thighs and the way he grasped her hips with his big hands. 

“Maybe he did, so what?” His tongue kissed his teeth while he pondered over her words, staring at (y/n) with something she’d dream of for a while. It felt like heaven and hell were clashing, forcing them to balance a strong energy neither had felt before. It drew them closer with every passing second, growing between them while both could only endure its strength. 

“You’ll lose his number.” It was a simple command, words that drew a soft laugh out of (y/n) while she shook her head no. A laugh that lost its strength as Dean’s big hand found her throat, forcing her to quiet down. Her pupils grew wider at the touch, drawing a shaky breath out of (y/n). “He’ll never have you.”

“And you will?” She could only whisper her question, words that left Dean smirking as he dipped his head down. He was close to kissing her, lips ghosting over hers while her heart picked up its beat. 

“We both know that I already have you.” With one last squeeze of her throat, Dean pressed a kiss to the corner of her lips before letting go of her. (Y/n) was at loss for words, could only watch him take another step away from her with his teeth buried in his grinning lower lip, front still turned in her direction. 

(Y/n) needed a handful of seconds before she snapped into motion, jumping off the metallic kitchen island to haul herself into his space, lips finding his with her arms wrapped around his neck. Dean instantly replied to the kiss with one hand placed on her waist and the other cupping the back of her head to keep her close. Their tongues met to deepen the kiss, leaving both groaning at the new sensation. 

“I belong to nobody and if you keep on being such an asshole to me, you’ll be the last person to ever have me.” She mumbled the words against his lips before pushing him away, leaving Dean breathless while she walked back to her room with a smile glued to her slightly swollen lips. 

……

Music filled her room, cozying (y/n) along while she was reading. It had been hours since her kiss with Dean, a memory that left her buzzing with nerves whenever her mind took her back to those minutes. She was proud of herself for finding the confidence at that time, for pushing him away after a kiss she longed to experience again. 

His lips had felt all too soft, a perfect kiss she had always read of in books but had never experienced herself–until that very moment. He had tasted of beer and home, a strange sensation she hadn’t been able to shake so far. 

A soft knock forced her out of her thoughts, eyes flickering towards her door to watch Dean step into the room. They hadn’t shared a single word since that kiss, while she had hid herself in her room, Dean had given her enough space to sort through the chaos both were stuck in now. 

He closed the door behind himself before walking towards her bed. (Y/n) could only watch as he plopped down on her bed, gently taking her book to place it on her nightstand before pulling her into his chest. She could hear his heart racing as both were laying there in silence. 

“What are you doing, Dean?” (Y/n) shifted on his chest, eyes finding his while he kept his hand placed on her side. He stayed quiet, seemingly deep in thought with his eyes set on the ceiling rather than her face. 

(Y/n) barely allowed herself to properly look at Dean, to take in the beauty of the man who made her feel the most confusing emotions imaginable. She wanted to count his freckles, every single one of them reminding her of a galaxy million of lightyears away, each telling its own story. She wanted to get lost in the green eyes reminding her of a forest that had seen the most gruesome things and yet still managed to offer a home to those needing shelter. She wanted to kiss those plush lips again that made her feel more alive than she had ever felt before.

“I,” he cleared his throat as if he was trying to rip himself out of a trap, forcing his eyes back down to meet hers. “Somewhere along the way, since meeting you, I’ve realised that it’s much easier to rile you up, to annoy you and have you as an enemy rather than admit my feelings to you but also to myself. From the first day we met you at that diner, I knew I had found my match, the one who finally belongs to me. But fuck, my anxiety got the best of me, and I began spiralling. It was fucking immature of me, but I couldn’t stop, not as long as I couldn’t accept that I’ve loved you for years.” 

Tears welled up in her eyes as she pondered over his confession, the words that cut deeper than she liked to admit. Dean’s thumb wiped away her falling tear while tightening his grip on her. Both were choked up, struggling to keep on speaking as silence engulfed them once again. The seconds kept fading by, moments she desperately needed to sort through her confusion, the words she wanted to speak but was unsure of. 

“And you’re ready to accept it now?” (Y/n)’s voice trembled, buzzing through her body like lightning set on burning holes into her skin. Dean’s hand stroked up her spine until he found the back of her neck, pressing (y/n) close to kiss her softly. It took her a few seconds to let her lips move, tongues meeting much slower than they had for their first kiss.

“If you’ll let me love you like you deserve to be loved, I am ready to accept it and fight for it.” A part of her knew that she should leave his side, kick him out of the room, and curse him for thinking she’d ever give him a chance, but the other, bigger part, begged her to give in, to finally grasp this chance she had silently hoped for whenever her anger turned into desperation and longings. 

“Kiss me, Dean.” He didn’t need to be told twice. Dean dipped his head down to kiss her with one hand finding her cheek. It wasn’t a soft kiss, fuelled by unspoken emotions and longings, and yet both took their time to properly explore their newfound territory. Carefully, Dean pushed her off his chest to hover over her with one leg finding its way between her thighs.

They didn’t break the kiss as he softly pressed his thigh against her heat, drawing a moan from (y/n) at the sudden contact. Heat buzzed through her body, down her spine and straight to her pulsing bundle. (Y/n) tried to push herself closer, moving with just enough strength to moan once again. 

“Can you make yourself cum on my thigh, sweetheart? Show me how much you need to be touched.” Her eyes found his stormy ones, getting lost in the rich colour for a second before a shaky exhale left her. (Y/n) pulled Dean down for another kiss while she moved against his thigh again, supported by him as he met her movements with more urgency.

Her body was burning, shaking from the excitement she couldn’t let go of; the anticipation pushing her towards the edge she’d fall from at least two times that day. Dean kissed his way down her throat, sucking on the spots that made her arch her back off the mattress. Goosebumps covered her body while she lost grip on reality, allowing her body to move without her mind’s guidance while searching for that high she could already feel creeping closer. 

“Such a good girl, look at how perfect you look, fuck, I can’t wait to see you all done with my cock buried inside of you.” He rasped the words against her ear, forcing (y/n)’s hands to find his forearms to hold on, clawing her fingernails into his skin. She was close already, about to let go with his name rolling off her tongue as the fabric offered just enough friction to make her gasp. 

His name rolled off her tongue as she came, eyes squeezed shut, back arched, toes curled. Dean could only stare down at her, mesmerised by the sight he’d take to the grave, forever remembering the first time he made her cum. With his lips meeting hers again, he managed to rip her out of her hazy daze, forcing her hands to move as they tugged on his shirt. 

They parted for a moment, allowing Dean to get rid of his shirt and his trousers, while she mimicked his movements, undressing herself with trembling fingers. Her mind was racing, leaving her buzzing as it slowly began to dawn on her what was about to happen, that she was about to let the man she had hated for years fuck her. 

“Tell me you want this as much as I do. I won’t touch you otherwise.” Dean’s murmured words made a smile widen on her lips. Even though she struggled to reply, eyes and mind fully focused on his naked body, the muscles she wanted to kiss, the cock that grew harder with every passing second, she parted her swollen lips. 

“I want you, Dean, mark me up.” With his grin glued to his lips, he watched her reach for a condom, rolling it down his cock to draw a soft groan from him. They held eye contact as he positioned himself on top of her, letting his fingers brush through her dripping slit for a moment before finally pushing into her. 

Groans and moans left the two at the new sensation, with her walls fluttering around him and his cock disappearing further and further inside of her. Dean pressed his forehead against hers as a deep exhale left her as if she needed to relax, to tell herself that everything was alright. He moved slowly, careful at first, giving (y/n) enough time to adjust while their bodies kept meeting with every thrust. 

“Fuck, you feel so perfect.” Dean’s words drew a small chuckle out of (y/n). Her arms found their way around his neck, letting her fingernails scratch at his skin on their way up his neck. The second she found his roots to tug on them, Dean added more speed to his thrusts, set on leaving marks just like she had asked him to. 

She was about to moan his name, about to beg Dean to move faster, but the sound of her ringing phone forced her attention away from him. For a second, his pace began to falter, but then a smirk widened on his lips. 

“Who is it?” Her wide eyes found their way back to his. 

“The guy from the bar.” She was breathless, struggled to reply while a desperate whine left her. She needed Dean to move again, to push her closer to the edge with his cock buried deep inside of her. 

“Pick up.” Confusion was laced in her gaze as she watched Dean reach for the phone. He answered the call before he pushed it into her direction. They held eye contact as he began to move once again, fucking her even deeper than before.

“Hi, (y/n). I wanted to ask if you’re free tonight? I’d like to take you out for dinner.” (Y/n) struggled to stop her moans from leaving her, not wanting to give away what she and Dean were currently doing–even though Dean was clearly set on proving to the guy that she was now taken. 

“Hi, listen,” Dean’s thrust met her swollen spot the second she began speaking, drawing a moan from her she couldn’t bite down. Embarrassment was about to flush through her, widening her pupils while Dean’s smirk kept growing bigger. “I’m sorry, but I can’t.”

Another moan left her as Dean met that spot again and again, letting the phone fall from her hands while hoping that the guy would simply hang up. No longer could she care about anything but the way Dean fucked her, letting his fingers meet her pulsing bundle to give her the needed push. 

“Cum for me, baby.” His lips met hers as she came, swallowing her moans while he fucked her through the sensation. (Y/n)’s body was buzzing, trembling beneath Dean as he searched his own high with fast thrusts that left her whimpering. He came with a groan moments later, thrown over the edge. 

“Fuck, that was something.” His husky words left her chuckling. She watched him roll off her to get rid of the condom before finding his way back to her bed. Dean’s warmth engulfed her, his arms pulled her against his chest as he pressed a kiss to her hairline. 

“We still have to talk about all of this.” (Y/n) whispered words drew a hum from Dean, who found himself being pulled back into his hazy thoughts. 

“I’ll do whatever it takes to earn your forgiveness, I promise, sweetheart.” Her eyes flickered up to meet his, studying the unreadable expression he wore. 

“As long as you keep touching me like that I’m sure we’ll find a way.”

[luveline]

𝐢𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐠𝐨 𝐛𝐚𝐝 | 𝐚𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐧𝐞𝐫

when an unknown intruder breaks into your apartment, you call hotch. he races to make it to you in time. requested here. fem!reader, 3.7k

cw home invasion, assault, attempted sexual assault, reader is badly hurt/held at gunpoint, please read with care for the content warnings above

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

"Hotch?" you whisper into the phone, your voice barely audible. 

"Who is this?" 

Hotch doesn't always look at who's calling at night, he just answers. Bad habit. You curl in on yourself where you're on your knees in the closet, trying not to wheeze breathlessly down the receiver. "Hotch, it's me. I need you to come and help me." 

"What's wrong?" He doesn't ask why you're whispering. "Are you at home?" 

"There's someone in my apartment." 

"You're sure?" 

You shift backwards into the embrace of your hanging coats and dresses. It feels as though tens of hands are petting your shoulders, a shiver racing along your spine as a floorboard creaks somewhere in your kitchen. 

"I heard them open my door. I don't have my taser, I…" You stop talking when you hear more movement, terrified you'll be discovered. Regret clings to you. How many times has Morgan offered to teach you self defence personally? "I don't know how they got inside."

It doesn't take more than that for Hotch to click into work mode. "Stay on the phone with me. Don't talk. I'm going to put you on hold to call Morgan. I will be ten seconds at most. Don't panic. Don't hang up. If you think you can leave without being seen or heard, leave, but if you can't, don't show him where you are." 

The invader's footsteps track to the bedroom. You know at once that your tired mind isn't hallucinating a bad scenario to keep you up —this is real. 

You had the hindsight to close your laptop and push it under the bed along with your go-bag, a rucksack full of clothes that you take on cases in different states as part of the BAU. You'd made a quick assessment —your job more than prepared you for this— based on the little information you had. Either the invader knows nothing about you and has assumed you'd be home, or they watch you enough to think you'd be elsewhere. If they think you're here, you're in danger of being assaulted, kidnapped, or murdered. If they think you're away, you're in danger of being robbed. One scenario is a thousand times more preferable than the other. 

You can't help but think of the horrible things you've seen. You know intimately what kind of damage one person can do to someone at their mercy. 

The hold sound is a quiet droning that freaks you out. If you can hear it, the intruder might be able to, too. Like the low hum of the fridge at night or the bumping of the dyer. 

You hang up the phone. 

"I know you're here." 

Your pulse flies through the roof. It pounds so hard you can feel it everywhere, the tip of your nose, your eyelashes. You look through the dark of your closet and panic in the fullest definition of the word. Your heart can't sustain this for long. 

You failed to think of a third possibility. The intruder watches you enough to know you're home. The BAU has a lot of enemies. Anyone could be waiting for you on the other side of the door.

"Come out and I'll be kind," the intruder sing-songs.

You type out a text with shaking hands, your message nearly illegible. 

They knowa 8m hjome. Cant talkk dontcall me

Thirty seconds elapse. A reply comes through. You smother the chirp with your chest. It sounds loud as a shot in the relative quiet. 

Police dispatch 5mins. I'm 10mins. Morgan 12. I will be there as soon as I can. Protect yourself 

That's easy for him to say. You drop your phone in defeat but scramble to pick it up again when you realise it's your best weapon. Or… You crawl to the opposite end of the closet to your shoe rack and slide the shoes apart with honey slow movements, your breath coming in quick, too-loud pants. You never expected to feel this way, you thought you'd know exactly what to do, how to react, but this feels outside of reality. 

You brace the long heel of a shoe between your fingers. Your hand is a vice. 

In your bedroom, the intruder goads you. "I know you're home, Y/N. There's only so many places for me to look, you know? But if you make me check each one, I'll be unhappy when I find you." 

What the fuck? you think. Breaking apart the fear like a knife is anger, a new shot of adrenaline. Who is this guy? You want to spring from the closet and show him how unhappy you are, but your chances of survival improve the longer you can hide. If he has a gun, that's it. You could be dead in the next two minutes. No amount of anger would save you. 

You could be dead in the next two minutes. 

thank you dpr everything, for being my friend aaron, you text. You know how embarrassing it will be to have said goodbye if nothing bad happens to you, but you also know how haunted Hotch will be if he can't get to you in time. You aren't foolish enough to unravel your feelings for him over text, but you're sentimental enough to think they'd matter to him. He'd want to know. 

If things go bad please knoeew that I loved my life and my work and you and the tram more than anything

After a moment, you add, If things don't go bad please nevrr mentiom this 

Footsteps at the closet door. A pause that feels gargantuan, the silence so heavy it threatens to snap the floorboards beneath your knees. 

"Found you." 

You leap up and throw yourself at the closet door as hard as you can, gasping when it swings on the hinges and clips your opposition in the leg. You don't think, you don't look at his face, you simply drive the point of your shoe into his collar. 

He gasps. Something hard and rigid whips upward, your neck snapping to one side as the skin of your cheek splits, gunmetal glancing off of bone. You drop down onto your ass, half out of necessity and half to get away from the pain. You can't outrun it, nor can you escape the forthcoming assault, grunting in shock as the bottom of the gun comes down atop your head. It was likely meant to incapacitate you, but all it does is hurt. 

You flip onto your front, stagger onto your hands and knees, and launch yourself up through the bedroom doorway. You only have to get away. 

He sweeps your legs from under you barely ten feet down the hall. 

You fall. Your knees hit the hallway slats and your face follows, the nerve endings in your teeth ringing one by one and your eyes tearing up as your nose makes a huge thwacking sound. Gasping, you rush to cover your face though the damage is done. Your gasp turns to a sob, hands quickly wetted by blood. 

"Stupid bitch," he hisses. 

You crawl into the kitchen. He steps on the back of your thigh. 

"I have a G43 pointed straight at the back of your fucking head."

"Good for you?" you say, eyes squeezed closed. 

You whimper as he grinds his foot into your leg. 

"Don't think I won't use it when I'm done with you." 

You shake your head from side to side. That can't be what he's here for.

You should ask him what he wants, or threaten him with the approaching police sirens. You should've tried to climb out of your fire escape. You should've set the door alarm as soon as you came home, but you're just so fucking tired lately you must've forgot. Everything feels like a chore. Right now, you're exhausted. 

"What are you going to do?" he asks you. 

You won't negotiate. You don't answer.

Forceful, no time to protect yourself, he kicks you in the side of the face. It hurts worse than the fall, that shattering pain like a firework under your skin. You struggle to keep your mouth shut, hoping that your whining cry is less audible to him than it is to you, scrambling backward toward the cabinets. You're defeated. Maybe you deserve it, for it to happen so easily. Three minutes and you're down. 

"I asked you what are you going to do, Agent?" 

"What am I supposed to say?" you ask. Even to your own ears, you sound pathetic. 

"Whatever I want you to. Now get up, honey." You cringe. "Unless you want to stay on the floor like a dog?" 

"Don't call me that," you say, wincing at the grinding sensation of your jaw. 

"What, a dog? Or… honey?" His tone is smug. "I thought you'd like that. It's what your boss calls you, isn't it? Late at night when he drops you off. Not strictly professional." 

You groan and turn onto your side. The police sirens are getting close. You live in a busy place near a main road, the sirens could be for anybody, but you need them to be for you.

"Get up, honey. You can pretend I'm him, if you like. I'll make it easy on you. I can be nice." 

You deliberate. Do as he says, or risk further agitation. Do what he says. Live to see the end of the night. 

Or drag it out. Give Hotch enough time to get here. 

"You'll pretend to be him?" you ask, sniffing. You can't tell if you're crying or there's blood on your face. 

"Aw. To begin with, sure." 

You sit up. For the first time, you look your attacker in the face. It's difficult to tear your eyes from the barrel, but you do. He has a cruel face, as tall and formidable as Hotch is but with none of his lightness. You put on your softest expression, gazing at him through tears. When you speak, the fear is real, even if you're attempting a facade. "You'll be gentle?" 

"No. You think he'd be gentle? Agent Hotchner?" His lip curls in disgust.

"I don't know," you mumble, looking down at the floor. "You said you'd be nice." 

"We both know you don't like nice." 

"I do," you say, finding your footing in the charade, the sorry victim, whatever he needs you to be for now. You hate giving him anything, but you know in the moment that you'll do what you need to do to save yourself from injury. "I haven't… I haven't done stuff in a long time, I can't just rush into things." 

The gun makes a quiet clicking sound as he points it with more fervour. "Like I believe that. You're probably fucking Hotchner on the side." 

There, that jealousy. He's been watching you, he knows where you live, what you want, and he's still convinced that you're fucking Hotch. It's not logical.

You cling to the threads, trying to pull apart his composure. You'd assumed him an anger-excitation rapist, unafraid to hurt you as he already has, but now you're thinking something else. 

"You think I'm sleeping with my boss? Why?" 

"Besides your constant need to be touching him? It's disgusting, you throw yourself at someone who doesn't want you. You're pathetic. I can make you better." 

You see movement in the corner of your vision. Dark hair, a stony expression. Hotch stands at the precipice of the kitchen in a bulletproof vest, a finger to his lips. Sh. 

Your relief knocks a breath out of you. The invader takes it for pain at being read. 

"Look," he says, softer. Not genuine softness, but practised. As soon as you give in, he'll drop it. You're both acting for one another, but only one of you is a profiler. "You'll forget all about Agent Hotchner once we're done. So just get up." 

You hold out your hand. His eyes light up with malice as he leans down to take it, his gun finally aimed away from your face. 

Hotch moves in. 

"Drop the weapon." 

Your attacker whirls. Hotch doesn't hesitate. Front sight, controlled trigger press, follow through. A bang like a clap of thunder fills the room. 

You flinch down into yourself. Everything goes a little white for a while, people running into the room, a gun skittling across your kitchen tile. Your ears ring from the bang of two bullets and you're sure you've been hit, you're hurting so much, but hands squeeze under your arms to tell you otherwise. 

"You're okay," Hotch says, knee against your thigh, face ducked down to meet your eyes. "Hey, can you hear me?" 

You shake your head. You can hear him, but you're far from okay. Hotch bites commands over his shoulder, holding your waist in his hands like he's worried you'll slip out of them. Tight. Too tight. You suck in as big a breath as you can manage and choke on it, coughing, the wild sting of your wounds a ringer. 

"You did so well," he says as he catalogues your injuries, his frown deepening. He tilts your head up to the light. 

"I knew you were on your way," you deflect.

"You were talking him down." 

"No, I was surrendering." 

"You didn't give in until you saw me. You weren't surrendering." 

"But I would have," you whisper, closing your eyes.

"Doing what you need to to survive isn't easy. But you do it." 

You hang your head. 

— 

Hotch winces at the sound of your skin being sewn closed. Morgan sits beside you in the back of the ambulance holding your hand, your fingers twitching between his with every tug. They dosed you and applied a general anaesthesia, but the pain is pervasive. His eyes keep moving back to your hand in Morgan's. He isn't jealous —he's annoyed with himself. Hotch should be the one holding your hand.

He should've hugged you. The absence of it feels awkward between you, though he's positive that that's the last thing you're thinking of right now.

"Will you have to set her nose?" Morgan asks. 

The paramedic shakes his head. "Not broken. Just very badly bruised. Even the bone." 

"That doesn't need a cast?" 

Hotch should hold your hand, should hug you, should be organising the scene. Should, should, should. The only thing he's managed to do since he incapacitated your stranger is watch you for signs of life. 

You're despondent. In shock, no doubt. You let your friends pass you from place to place with little more than pained sighs for input.

JJ does an excellent job of surveying the goings on, while Rossi and Reid take care of some of the bigger questions: who is this guy, what did he want, and how did it come to happen? 

What did he want? Hotch can guess. Rage collects like the heart of a furnace, a molten cup of steel in his throat as what he heard you say plays over and over in his head. 

You'll be gentle? 

No. You think he'd be gentle? Agent Hotchner?

He'll never forget the way you sounded asking that question. Terrified, begging for a scrap of mercy. 

Emily approaches from behind. "We have a name." Hotch tips his head to show he's listening. "Paulo Danvers. He was part of a crew that installed her security parameters a few months ago. He was vetted. This shouldn't have happened." 

"No, it shouldn't have." Hotch lowers his tone, "She said she wasn't sure she set the lock." 

"It wouldn't have mattered. He disengaged it from the outside." Emily takes a few steps closer to the ambulance. "Hey. Morgan taking care of you?" 

"Don't I always?" Morgan asks, clapping your arm gently. 

You don't answer. 

"What, you're not talking to me?" Emily asks. She's not mad, the opposite. Concern lines her eyes, thin brows pinching together at the starts, though she does her best to smile through it. 

"I don't feel well," you say quietly. 

"Yeah? You're not squeamish, are you?" 

"Don't think so." 

"It's shock," says the paramedic. 

"What's your pain like?" Hotch asks. He's the only person you'll give a straight answer to. "Bad?" 

"Yeah." Your hand is lax in Morgan's. 

"I can give you slow release tramadol to last the night or codeine pretty much immediately. It's up to you. And I'm really not comfortable with releasing you without next of kin. Do you have family in the area?" 

You shake your head. "It's just Hotch. Agent Hotchner," you correct yourself, nodding at him.

"You're her partner?" the paramedic asks. He can sense the disapproval. 

"Her boss." 

"Not her partner?" 

"He's my closest friend," you say. 

He's never heard you say that before, but it's true. 

"I wish you were my boss," the paramedic jokes, turning back to her supplies as she peels off her gloves. "Maybe I'd get better sick pay." 

You're given slow release tramadol and officially pronounced to be on the mend. If he didn't have an FBI badge, you'd be spending the night on a ward. He'd prefer if you did, but you clearly don't want to be somewhere alone right now, and he just wants to give you what you want after having your choices held over your head.  

He's not offended when Emily asks if you'd prefer to stay with her. It's harrowing what might have happened to you had you not heard the initial break in, and the perpetrator would've been a man like Hotch. Tall, white, dark-haired. He wouldn't blame you for needing space from him to feel safe tonight, but he's relieved when you turn her down. 

"You don't have to act like something happened to me," you say.

Hotch clicks down the locks of his car and turns on the overhead light. You squirm in the passenger seat, looking wrecked. Your chin is split, your nose a dark purple mess cut by white splint. You have a cut on your cheek and another just above your eye. 

"You don't think something happened?" he asks, hands on his legs. He can tell you wish he would start the car and take you home without pressing. 

"No, I know, I look awful, but he didn't do anything to me." Why is it so hard to say what it could have been? "You don't have to act like I'm gonna wig if you touch me." 

"You won't mind if I hug you?" he asks. 

"No. No, I want you to." 

It's thankfully a short gap to cover as Hotch leans over the console. He's careful of your face and still you mumble a tired, "Ouch," in his ear.

He rubs your back, slow and soft. "You okay?" he asks. 

You don't answer for a while. It doesn't matter, Hotch'll sit here in his parked car for hours if you want him to, hands on your hunched back. Your face hides away. He can feel and hear your distress building, and he wants you to cry if you need to, but it'll hurt.

"Sh," he hushes you gently, "it's okay." 

"I'm fine." You sound welled up. 

"Someone broke into your home and held you at gunpoint. You don't have to be fine." 

"Yeah, I do. It's my job." 

"No, that's not your job," he says, closing his eyes. "This has nothing to do with your job. This is about something bad happening to you. Don't put walls up now. It won't work, it never does." 

He tries to back away in case you're overwhelmed.

"Wait," you say, your panic like a cough. 

"I'm not going anywhere," he says. 

You sniffle, nodding into his chest. Hotch has comforted a hundred victims of violent assault. He's held the faces of women he didn't know hoping to give them something solid to lean on. But it's different with you, because you and Hotch aren't simply friends. There's a deeper vein of affection, and tonight's event is a jagged slash against it, bringing every unbidden feeling he has for you to the surface. He can't get how scared you sounded out of his head. He knows that feeling is still there. 

"How did you get here so fast?" you asked. 

"I took the side road. And went unavoidably fast." 

You make a small, small sound. He's known you for long enough to understand what it demarcates, unsurprised when the trembling of your shoulders turns to pained shaking. Hotch holds you delicately. He's done so much in his life, made a thousand and one mistakes, used a heavy hand when he could've been sweeter. He's determined to get this part right. 

"I'm with you now," he says. "I'm sorry I couldn't–" This is harder than he imagined. He presses on. "Couldn't protect you from the start." 

"You know why I called you?" you ask, your tone similarly soft. 

Hotch doesn't bother answering. The answer is unsaid, loudly heard. 

"I knew you'd come," you finish.

He puts a hand on your neck to encourage you into place, kissing the side of your head. Hotch will always come when you call. 

That night, you ask to sleep in his room. I'll sleep on the floor, just don't want to be alone. You're in ragtag clothes he'd scraped together for you, and after helping you wash the blood from your hair and face, you're even more impossible to say no to than usual, looking small in a way you haven't before. Hotch sets you up in bed next to him and wonders if he'll ever sleep next to someone he hasn't let down. 

You put that notion straight in your sleep. Hotch lays awake sick with the idea that he's failed you, and you, frowning, snoring, covered in cuts, curl into his side. You cling to his arm so hard he's certain you're awake at first, a bouquet of bruises painted across your cheek. 

Hotch pulls the blanket up over your shoulder, planting a chaste kiss to your forehead. 

He whispers your name, not sure what he'd say if you answered. 

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed♡ I haven't written long form (ish) for Hotch in a while so I'm nervous but I hope it's good!! let me know also if you'd like a second part cos usually I don't feel like there's much left to tell but for this one the could actually confess :o

[sosasturns]

streamin - c. sturniolo

blurb, in which reader gets a little distracted during chris’s late night stream so matt takes over. bot ver.

"you good?" chris asks, glancing at you from the corner of his eye, his hand still lazily moving the mouse around.

"mhm," you hum, shifting in your seat.

he's too locked in to notice at first, leaning closer to the monitor, the black tee stretched over his back, sleeves hugging his arms. his stubble is doing things to you, catching the glow of the desk light, and don't even get started on the messy headphone hair and tired smile he throws at chat every now and then. you're trying to focus on the youtube video he queued up, but the way he looks is making that impossible.

"sure?" he pushes, glancing at you again, this time catching the way your gaze lingers a little too long on him.

"yeah," you mutter, brushing it off.

you settle back in your seat, legs crossing and uncrossing, but your mind's racing. before you can second guess it, your hand lands on his lap, your fingers trailing along his thigh.

his movements still for a second, and his lips twitch, trying to fight the smirk creeping in. "what you want?" he asks, voice low but steady as he keeps his eyes on the game.

you shrug, playing it cool, even though your hand's still rubbing slow circles against his leg.

"nah," he says, finally cutting his mic audio, leaning back in his chair as he tilts his head at you. "you're lying. what you want?"

you hesitate, chewing on your bottom lip as you glance at his lap, your face heating up when you can feel him watching you.

"use your words, baby," he murmurs, his voice softer now, teasing, as he leans in just slightly.

your voice barely comes out as you mumble, "i wanna fuck," hiding behind your hand like it'll save you from his reaction.

he freezes for a second, lips twitching, and then he glances toward the screen, his eyes flicking over the chat. his grin spreads, slow and smug, like he knows something they don't. the comments flood in: what'd she say? why's he smiling like that? what's going on?

"alright, y'all," he drawls, leaning back and casually tossing his arm over the back of your chair. "matt's gonna take over the rest of the stream."

you shoot him a look, your face heating up as he's already pushing back his chair, standing, grabbing your hand and pulling you toward the door.

just as the two of you slip out, matt's voice filters in. "yeah, yeah, i'm here. hold up."

he strolls into the room, the headset resting crooked on his head as he squints at the screen. "what’re y’all going off about?" he mutters, reading a few comments.

one catches his attention: what's chris gonna go do?

matt glances toward the desktop camera, sinking back into the chair and placing his drink down with a smirk. "who do ya think?" he says, his voice dripping with humor as he adjusts his headset.

the chat erupts: NOT MATT EXPOSING HIM LMAO.

matt takes a sip from his cup, sighing in content. "y'all are too easy," he says, shaking his head as he queues up a game.

@ sosasturns

sosas 💬’s : new blurb theme incoming? had to type this up, chris looked insanely good in last night‘s stream. want more? sound off in my inbox! requests r open

“sosa mafia” taglist: @submattenthusiast @sophand4n4 @secretlocket @mrsdillonx @ch6rm @sweetrelieef @gabri3la-sturns @inspiredangel @sturn777 @et6rnalsun @faiyaz555 @whore4mattsturniolo @courta13 @katie-tibo @ifwdominicfike @raesturns

[lovelettersfromluna]

Dream Girl

Summary: Did you seriously think you’d be able to get over someone like Ellie Williams? Think again, dream girl.

an: I’m so obsessed with this series and the portrayal of Ellie, there’s just something about a small town romance that scratches the sweet spot in my brain. I hope you guys have enjoyed this one just as much as I have! Thank you so much for all of the support 🤍

Warnings: smut! MDNI!! 18+, tribbing (another tribbing fic by Luna?? Ofc do you not know me by now?), lots of kissing, sub!ellie if you squint, angst, mentions of another love interest, mentions of cheating, reader sucks Ellie’s fingers, pet names, unsure and closed off reader, pls lmk if I missed anything!

Read part 1 here!!

You watched from your bed as the gentle wind blew your lace curtains further into your bedroom, the birds chirping as the early morning sun slowly rose, cascading a warm glow into your room, making you squint your sore eyes with a soft groan.

With the slow rise of the sun came the constant reminder that you’d spent yet another night without catching a wink of sleep, lying there as you allowed your thoughts to carry you to places you wished didn’t exist.

Places of your ex wife, the bitter taste of your marriage still lingering on your tongue, reminding you of everything that could have been, everything that was lost due to lust.

Places of Ellie, the person who stole your heart first. You think of everything that could have changed had you not gone to the city, how your life's outcome would have had such a great shift due to one tiny change within the line of events that made up who you were, and what you did with your life.

It all leaves the whole in your heart feeling bigger, wider, swallowing up so much of the tiny organ that it almost felt there was nothing left of it.

It had been only a few days since the last time you saw Ellie, and the memories of that night still lingering in you brain, hanging heavily in your mind, stopping you from focusing on anything but that.

Because as much it felt good to kiss her, you haven't even been divorced for a year, and the conflicting feelings that you had for Ellie, paired with the newfound distrust and heartbreak that came from your recent marriage caused a storm in your head, heavy clouds swirling about in the confides of your mind and making it heard to think, hard to breath.

It was all just too fucking hard.

But you knew life was different now. You weren't a teenage girl that could run from confrontations for her own comfort. You were a grown up now, experiencing grown up situations that called for grown up reactions. So you knew that you needed to talk to Ellie, no matter how much it hurt to even think about facing her right now.

You weren’t even entirely sure where to start. Texting her was an absolute no, despite how much easier it would be to confront her that way, behind a screen would do a great job at cushioning the blow that came with confronting Ellie. Calling fell under the same category, she deserved much more than a measly phone call from your end with the intention of patching things up.

Which left only one option. You had to see her in person.

You sighed softly as you sat up in your bed, looking over at your phone resting face down on your bedside table. You hadn’t touched it since that night, avoiding the device all together in fear that you’d see any messages or calls from the worried girl.

So you aren’t surprised when you finally pick it up to see just that. Ellie didn’t pry, there were about three phone calls and four messages, all of which came across far too understanding and supportive for someone that had been kicked out mid make out session a few nights prior.

You inhale deeply before you open up your messages with her, and begin typing.

Hi

I’m sorry I haven’t responded.

Are you busy today? Can we meet up? I feel we need to talk

You practically hold your breath until she responds, which doesn’t take a very long time because the minute you send your first message, she’s read it and already typing out her message back.

Hey, don’t apologize. I was just worried about you

Ofc we can meet. Farmers market is opened today, you wanna check it out?

You don’t even realize it, but her messages are making you smile the second you read them out. Probably because of how easy Ellie makes things, how hard it is to make things awkward with someone as kind as she is.

That sounds great.

I’ll meet you there

Cool :)

Despite the small amount of anxiety that has alleviated when you’re finished texting her, you know this is only the beginning, the easy part of a conversation that will be much harder to have, much harder to explain when you aren’t even sure how to navigate your feelings as it is.

But there was no use in putting it off any further, so you’re quick to get out of bed, brush your teeth, haul on a pair of old blue jeans and an old band t-shirt and make your way out to your car to meet Ellie in town.

It’s almost impossible to have a sour mood in a place as magical as your little town. The moment you got into your car, the warm sun soaking into your skin made you take a deep breath, allowing yourself to clear your head for a second before making your way out into town.

Your mom was right, the sun can cure more than you thought.

You hadn’t even realized it was Sunday, which meant it was your towns tradition to hold the farmers market in the town center. You used to look forward to it so much as a kid, knowing it would bring out the best of the people that lived here, showcasing the talent every person had.

Some people sold clothes that they made by hand, pieces that could only be made with love and care, something you often missed seeing in the city. Others sold jewelry, so delicately crafted it was almost unbelievable that someone was able to create something like it.

But your favorite? Was the food. Different pastries baked by the hands of men and women, recipes passed on from generation to generation to continue to breath life into the traditions that made up your town, tying one another together with a single cake or pie.

It was almost like magic.

You catch yourself smiling as you walk down the strip of stands already getting into their sales. Your heart warms at the sight of familiar faces, aged but still happy. You notice new ones as well, like when you approach a stand you remember being up when you were kid, one of which sold your favorite sweet rolls.

Your attention is far too occupied with chatting up the familiar curly haired girl at the stand, the same one that your visit when you were a teenager, eager to her mothers famous pastures. You’re surprised to see that there’s now a baby on her hip sporting the same head of spiral chocolate brown locks sprouting from her head, giggling and kicking excitedly as you introduce yourself, grabbing the babies hands as you catch your with her mom.

Ellie had arrived not long after you, standing nearby as she smiles fondly at the way the baby quickly becomes enamored with you. Watching you play with kids was something that always made her heart flutter with joy.

You giggle softly as she hands you both pastries, giving her a nod as she begs you to come visit her and the sweet baby more often. You hum softly as you struggle to push both your receipt and your phone back into your purse, groaning softly to yourself as you fail to notice the sudden looming presence that falls over the, gentle hands opening your bag wider as they aid you in putting everything away.

“Here, lemme help you” Ellie breaths out gently, her voice alone making you freeze as your eyes trail to her body to land on her face that was suddenly very close to yours.

She chuckles when she notices you staring up at her with wide eyes, nodding her head down to your bag.

“Come on now, would hate to make you drop those” she hums as she mentions the pastries in your other hand. You blink a few times before you clear your throat, giving a quick nod before you push your things into your bag with her help.

“Fuck…sorry…I…um…” you struggle to speak, adjusting your bag on your shoulders as you watch the girl step back with a soft smile.

“No worries, you alright?” She questions, neck craning down a bit to get a good look at you, her own big green eyes staring into yours, making it hard to breath.

God, this was going to be much harder than you thought.

You inhaled deeply, opening your mouth to speak before closing it, looking down at the sweet rolls in your hand before outstretching your arm to hand one to her.

“I bought this for you…I figured you hadn’t eaten yet so…” you mumble out softly, watching as she stared at you for a moment before looking down at the perfectly packaged baked good in your hand.

Her heart warming at the mere thought of you thinking of her in that way.

She smiles softly before she nods, placing her hand on the small of your back as she began guiding you out of the small strip of stands.

“So sweet of you…c’mon, there’s some places to sit right up this way” she suggests, giving you a small reassuring smile as she leads you there.

Somehow it seems perfect. The sun, the birds chirping, the little shady spot that Ellie leads you over to, covered by the biggest tree with the prettiest flowers slowly drifting down from above. It’s truly something out of a dream….

It made you wish this was all a dream.

You let out a soft sigh as you sit opposite of Ellie on the wooden bench, your fingers toying with the paper the pastry in front of you is wrapped in. Ellie frowns as she watches you closely, knowing the expression far too well. She could see just how much you were in your own head, how the events you two shared prior lingered in your mind, making it hard to focus on anything.

You couldn’t even look at her, and she hated that.

She inhaled deeply before she reached a hand out, gently placing it atop yours.

“I hope you didn’t bring me out here to apologize…because you don’t have to” her words are soft, and sweet, and it makes your throat get tight because she shouldn’t be so kind to you after what you did, after the way you treated her.

You don’t respond, so she takes the opportunity to keep talking.

“I get that things are probably hard…and I shouldn’t even have kissed you that night…so I’m sorry” she tries again, and you scoff softly before shaking your head.

“Don’t…don’t apologize” you mumble out before you inhale deeply, finally looking up, only not at her, at the scenery around you both.

“I caught her in our bed, with some girl she worked with” you mumble out softly, fingers mindlessly running along the rough surface of the wooden table.

“I probably should have seen it coming….but I think I wanted things to work out so badly that I just ignored it” you shrug slightly as you explain before you finally look over at Ellie, who’s already staring intently as she listens to you.

“Ellie I don’t want you to feel sorry for me, or to think that I’m using my divorce as an excuse for what I did, for what happened between us….but I just need you to know that I’m hurting, and it’s just….hard for me to open myself up to something like that again after what happened” your voice breaks as your emotions threaten to give you away, chin wobbling as tears pool in your eyes.

But you don’t let them flow free. You don’t want to cry anymore, not over this.

“I…I just need time….” You silently beg, beg for her to understand what it is you’re going through, what it is you’re experiencing.

It scares you when she doesn’t answer right away, her green eyes scanning your face as she takes it all in. It’s a lot, and you know that, but there’s a tiny part of you that begs for Ellie to do what she does best, which is tell you exactly what you need to hear.

She blinks a few times before giving you a nod, paired with a soft smile. “You don’t even have to ask….you know I’d understand no matter what”

You inhale deeply as you watch her, her gentle eyes, her soft smile telling you that all would be fine. It make your stomach churn because you feel like you don’t deserve it, you feel like she deserves so much more than what you’re giving her.

You two haven’t even addressed what actually happened that night.

There’s nothing more to do than to simply smile back at her. It’s weak, and it isn’t much, but it’s all you can mange right now.

Ellie smiles softly at you before she looks down at the rolls in front of you both. “As good of a baker that Mary Beth is….i think we need some real food” Ellie hums out softly before she swings her leg over the bench to get up, nodding her head towards a small diner nearby.

“Come on. Let’s get something to eat” she suggests, holding her hand out for yours.

She notices the way your eyes linger on her calloused hand, unsure of whether or not you should take it, unsure of what signals it would send if you did.

You were unsure of everything. Unsure of Ellie, yourself, your own feelings. Nothing felt solid enough to trust, and you hated that someone like Ellie could make you feel that way, even though you knew that it wasn’t her that was making you feel that way, but rather what happened to you instead.

She can see it, she can see right through you and for a moment her frown mimics yours before she it turns into a soft smile.

“As friends” she affirms gently.

She sees a flash of something ripple through your eyes at this when you finally look up at her, something she doesn’t want to read too much into, something that she knows she can’t dive into for your own comfort, and perhaps even hers too.

A moment passes before you crack a weak smile, placing your hand into hers before you nod. “Yeah…as friends” you manage to make out weakly before grabbing the things off the table, shoving them into your bag and leaning into Ellie’s warmth as she guides you to the diner.

Ignoring the bitter taste left on your tongue at the way Ellie assured you that she was your friend, and nothing more.

Your mind was in absolute shambles.

It had been a few weeks since the farmers market with Ellie, and truthfully all had been well between the two of you. You both ate together, talked, laughed, you were even able to talk about your divorce, explaining to Ellie how you felt, what it had done to you, and she listened to it all, nodding along to your words, giving you the advice you didn’t want to hear, but very much needed. For a moment it was easy to forget all about the tension that had settled between you both, the thoughts that plagued you were finally silenced as you allowed yourself to just simply be.

That was until you got home.

The second you were in your bedroom, lying there, staring up at the ceiling, memories of that night began to flood into your mind. You could feel it all so clearly, Ellie’s hands on your body, her lips pressed against your mouth, gasping for air, her tongue sliding against your own. Her words echoed throughout your mind, desperate pants and moans of how she needed you, of how you needed her.

You couldn’t sleep a wink.

It felt as though you hadn’t even talked to her, as if things hadn’t glossed over to where they were okay, a point where things were fine between you both. They were, but the feelings you had were still there. You thought that if you had at least talked to Ellie, explained to her what you were feeling, it would give you a head start on where to go with sorting out your own feelings.

None of that ever came.

Your body yearned for a moment of peace from the issues at hand, you wanted to feel the same way you felt when you were sat at the diner with Ellie, her laugh and her sparkling smile distracting you from the things you were feeling.

But you knew you couldn’t turn to her for a distraction, you couldn’t use her to occupy your mind from facing things that you’d much rather ignore. That wasn’t fair to her and it would only hurt you further in the long run, lengthen the grieving process of the death of your marriage.

You couldn’t do that to Ellie.

You could however, go somewhere that you knew would clear your mind the moment you were there.

The low hum of your car engine shuts off as you pull up to the familiar clearing, a gentle smile on your face as you can already hear the gentle stream of the water the moment you’re stepping out of the car.

The old creek was one everyone in your town treasured, a tiny glimpse of paradise in the confides of your backyard. It was where all the seniors would go for senior skip day, and where families would visit to spend the day with their children. If there was any place that the people of your town would be during the summertime, it would be the creek.

And rightfully so, the waters sparkled like nothing you’d ever seen before, the shady trees hiding the spot away like a secret that belonged to you and only you. You had many fond memories of the place, ones with your family, your siblings, your old friends from school.

Ellie.

You and her would visit the spot any chance you got, diving into the cold water the moment you were there. You could recall the moment you two first found out, thinking it was a secret only you two shared, just to find out your parents had been visiting when they were your age as well.

Regardless of the fact that it didn’t belong to you two, it felt like it. A small piece of the world that you and Ellie could call your own, sharing secrets there with one another, Ellie pushing you off the old swing tied up to one of the trees before she swung in soon after, diving in and holding you close to her chest as she promised you’d be together forever, for as long as you both lived.

The intensity that you both shared as teenagers often made you laugh. What a silly thing for two teenage girls to say who have barely experienced the world out there.

You let out a gentle sigh as you rugged off your denim shorts after setting your spot up. A small blanket settled down with your bag, your old camera and a few books, clearly having every intention of staying the entire day, swimming to your hearts content.

Once you’re stripped of your clothes, your body only clad in your old bathing suit, you waste no time in making your way down to the water, shivering slightly once your toes hit the cold water, wiggling them in the process.

You’re convinced swimming in the small body of water has to have some sort of mystical healing properties, because the moment you’re diving your head under, eyes examining the aquamarine world that is below the surface, your mind is clear. It makes you feel like you could live there, swimming amongst the different underwater caverns and the fish, creating a whole new world below as the little mermaid you always dreamed to be.

Your mother always told you she thought she’d given birth to a little fish when your father first took you swimming.

It’s so easy to lose track of time when you’re like this, floating around in the water, letting its coldness wrap you up and swallow you whole. It’s almost comforting how quiet it is, the only sounds being the gentle stream of the water, the wind rustling against the tree leaves and the frequent sound of the birds chirping to let you know that you weren’t alone, letting you know they were there with you.

You don’t even realize it but you’ve spent hours swimming about in the small pond, the grumbling in your stomach finally stops you for a moment to actually think about anything other than swimming, forcing you out to lay out onto your blanket and dry in the sun, occasionally popping the sweet berries into your mouth you’d brought from home.

The book you’ve brought with you also silences the outside world, allowing you to flip from page to page without thinking of anything but the regal characters that seemingly had much more to worry about than you. What a world it would be to wear uncomfortable dresses and attend balls in the hopes you’d find the perfect husband.

What would they think of your divorce?

It makes you snort to yourself, a gentle hum leaving your lips as you flip another page, unaware of the sudden sound of feet crunching against the grass slowly approaching you.

The high pitched sound of your name being called rips your attention away from your book, furrowing your eyebrows a bit as you cup your hand above your eyes to shield from the sun, trying to get a good look at who it was that was disturbing your peace.

“I didn’t think I’d be seein’ you here! What a surprise!” Lilac chirps out, her curly hair tied up into a perfectly styled bun, tight coils framing her face as she clutches her towel to her chest.

You hadn’t seen her since the night Ellie took you out to the Copper Cat a few weeks ago, the girl not lingering on your mind much as you had much bigger fish to fry. You were honestly a bit shocked that she’d even remembered your name.

You give her a gentle smile as you sit up, your legs folding to cross one another as you give her a small smile.

“Good to see you Lilac….going for a swim?” You ask her, watching as the girl takes the spot right next to yours, her blanket fitting perfectly up against your own as she gives you a confident nod.

“Mhm! It’s too hot…bless Ellie’s heart for sharin’ this place with me. Don’t know what I’d do without it” she chirps out as she tugs her own denim shorts off, leaning her in the cutest little bikini.

You know she doesn’t mean it in the way that it sounds, bragging about being introduced to the small clearing by your ex girlfriend, and you knew that it was only in due time that this place was mentioned to her by someone in your town, making sense that Ellie would do it first since that’s just the kind of girl Ellie was.

But there’s just something that tugs at your heart at the thought of it all. Ellie mentioning this place to her, the two of them coming down together, alone, Lilac adorned in another one of those adorable bikinis she had to show off to Ellie her gorgeous body as they play in the water together.

Something about Ellie sharing the spot you two shared with someone else that just rubbed you the wrong way.

You inhale deeply, trying to calm your nerves as you remember that this girl owes you nothing, Ellie owes you nothing and Lilac has been nothing but kind to you from the moment she met you.

Giving her a gentle smile as she settles down next to you, you nod. “It’s pretty great out here…I’m surprised it isn’t so packed. Seems we got lucky” you give her a nod before you sigh, turning your attention back to your book.

She smiles fondly as she watches you turn your attention back to your book, her neck craning down a bit to get a good look at the cover, gasping softly once she realized what it was you were reading.

“You read those too? I love them! I just finished the first two” she beams, a soft hum leaving your lips as you look up at the girl, raising your eyebrows at her comment.

“Really? Most people think they’re super corny” you pout softly as you turn the book over to look at the cliche cover, which only earns a firm head shake from Lilac.

“Honey I’m a hopeless romantic, I daydream more than I actually try talking to people” she giggles out softly, giving you a gentle shrug.

Her words make you chuckle softly, gently closing your book as you toss it to the side before sitting up to mirror her posture, crossing your legs as you suddenly give her your full attention.

“You’re a hopeless romantic? But…Lilac you’re gorgeous. I wouldn’t be shocked if you have every single guy here desperate to get a chance with you” you confess, which only makes her shake her head as she gives you a shy smile, gently shoving your knee.

“Don’t you dare! I’m awful at talking to people” she pouts out, her eyes dropping from her own as she stares down at the flowers on her blanket, delicate fingers tracing the patterns gently as she lets out a gentle sigh.

“If I’m being honest…it’s not the guys here that I want…” her words trail off softly, and it makes you pout softly as you eye the girl, seeing how whatever is on her mind is clearly bothering her, plaguing the girl just as much as what was on your mind.

You open your mouth to ask her about it, feeling bad about whatever she was going through, but she’s quick to shake her head and put on a bright smile once she looks back into your eyes. “But let’s not get into that! M’glad you’re here to join me today” she breaths out, her voice sweet and genuine as her eyes soften.

And it makes your heart rate finally slow down, seeing just how genuine the girl seemed, how happy she was to be there with you regardless of the fact that you were as good as a stranger to her than anything more.

You smile softly as you nod, leaning forward and placing your hand on hers, giving a gentle squeeze. “Don’t mention it, Lilac” you hum out softly.

If there was anything you didn’t expect to do today, it was to have made a new friend, especially one in Lilac. The two of you spent the entire day down at the creek, laughing together, swimming together. The more time you spent with her, the more you realized just how much in common the both of you had.

Being completely honest with yourself, she had more kindness in her pinky than anyone in the city ever did.

The sun has set, and the breeze blew against your warm skin as you leaned against your car, Lilac in front of you as she made yet another joke that had you throwing your head back as you let out a loud laugh.

“Stop I feel the same way! I always wondered what happened to him” you gasp out, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear as you lean back to shove your back into the passenger seat of your car. Lilac giggles softly as she nods, her arms crossed over her chest as she swatted away the mosquitos slowly began to swarm around you both.

“He’s still an idiot, some people never change I fear” she groaned out, a prominent pout on her perfect lips before she cocked her head to the side, smiling fondly at you.

“Ellie was right about you, you know? You really are somethin’ special” she breaths out, and it has your eyes going wide at the mention of the girl. It makes you realize that you hadn’t thought about her all day, not since Lilac had joined you.

It makes you wonder what other things Ellie had said about you.

You whine softly as you bring your hand forward to nudge her playfully. “Shut up….you’ll blow my head up” you warn the girl playfully before you sigh softly, looking over at the sun that was slowly bur surly setting, the once warm glow that casted onto you both disappearing.

“Ahh I should get going…we shouldn’t be on the roads too late” you breath out softly, turning towards the girl and giving her a small smile, only to see a sad one on her face.

You frown softly as you watch her, leaning forward and giving her hand a gentle squeeze. “Hey? You okay?” You ask gently, suddenly worried about the girls shift in her mood.

She lets out a gentle sigh before she looks down at her feet, kicking around the gravel below before she lets out a soft hum. “I know we don’t know each other well…but…I feel like you’ll be my only help with this” she admits to you, her eyes still casted downwards before you assure her with a soft voice. “Of course you can..” you mumble out softly.

She finally looks up at you, taking a deep inhale before she gives you a half smile. “I…think I like Ellie” she breaths out, as if she’d been keeping it held in for so long, as if finally telling you was letting a weight off of her shoulders.

Letting it off of hers and slamming it down onto yours.

You find it hard to breathe, because suddenly you’re shot back to the first night you met Lilac at the Copper Cat. Ellie’s hand on her waist, hers on Ellie’s arm as she whispers in her ear, the two of them matching one another far more than you felt you could’ve ever matched Ellie. You feel threatened, and it sets a fire off in your chest, and you feel like the world is crumbling around you as this beautiful girl admits her innocent feelings for your ex girlfriend.

When you don’t speak, she continues.

“And I just…you and her are so close, so I was hoping maybe you could give me some advice? Should I go for it? Do you…think she’d like me back?” She asks hopefully, twiddling with her fingers nervously as she watches you closely, awaiting your response.

You stare are her blankly, your body working on autopilot as you try to work your way through this. Seeing her that night felt like it might’ve all been in your head, especially when Ellie ran out after you and left the moment you were ready, but now this is all real. This is Lilac confirming that what you felt was real, and this was the reality of coming back to your hometown, more specifically your ex girlfriend.

And as you stand there, trying to figure out what the hell to say to this girl, you can only see someone doing the same thing that you’re doing. She’s a young girl, looking for love in this crazy fucked up world, and she’s unsure of herself. Someone as beautiful as her is unsure of herself and you could only wish that someone would have guided you when you were pursuing your ex wife, a third party bystander giving their advice and helping you through it all.

Because as much as it kills you? Ellie deserves love, and so does Lilac, and if they find it in one another, who the hell are you to take that away from them.

The both of them owe you nothing.

You inhale deeply before giving her a soft smile, nodding as you reach out to give her arm a gentle, assuring squeeze. “I think Ellie would be thrilled to be with someone like you, Lilac….you should go for it” you breath out genuinely, watching as the girls face lights up with joy with your confirmation, an excited squeal leaving her lips.

“I was hoping you’d say that! You’re an angel” she squeals, reaching forward and grabbing you up into her arms as she gives you a tight hug, swaying back and forth as she tucks her chin into your shoulder.

You can practically feel the happiness radiating off of her.

You smile softly as you nod, wrapping your hands around her as you hug her back before you hum. “You didn’t need me…you’ll be great on your own” you assure her before you pull away, giving her a reassuring nod.

She smiles brightly as she nods before she lets out a loud sigh. “Right…get home safe, alright? And text me! We can hang out sometime this week” she sings out as she gets into her car, giving you a wave as she begins pulling off.

And suddenly you’re left there all alone, with the newfound thoughts that are swirling about in your head. You know already that you won’t be able to sleep, not with the mental image of the two of them dancing around in your mind, forcing you to face reality, face the facts that time moves on with or without you.

But you were tired of being left behind, you were tired of being the last one to know things, the one broken heart in a sea of mended ones.

Driving off in your car from the creek gives you time to think, the cool breeze kissing your skin, pushing your hair back as the radio plays your favorite songs, creating somewhat of a perfect scenario to think things over rather than running from them.

While it all hurts, you know that there’s no use in standing in the way of Lilac or Ellie or whoever for that matter. Life would continue moving, and in that meant new love would be found, for both you and Ellie, it just felt like that wouldn’t happen for you in the moment, even if you knew it would.

But you were going to move on from this. And you were going to be fine, no matter how long it took for you to catch up with the tracks of life that seemingly always got the best of you.

There’s something therapeutic about hanging up the laundry on the old clothes line in your backyard.

You used to make fun of your mom all the time when she did it, telling her that there was a perfectly good dryer inside that would take less than half the time to dry the clothes than they did outside, not to mention less work when it came to picking them in.

However as you’ve grown older, there’s something so simple about walking outside with your basket on your hip, the gentle smell of detergent blowing into your direction as you pin up several articles of clothing, your white sheets, anything that you’ve washed, that tickles your brain in the best ways.

That, and the fact that these days you’ll take any task to fill your brain with thoughts other than Ellie or your ex wife.

Things had been fine. You spoke to Ellie here and there, dropped dinner off at Joel’s house that you knew he made sure she got some of whenever you made extra, you even made time for Lilac within the week as well. You’d picked up a small job in town as well, working at the cashier of a small floral shop that had been in town from you could remember.

So although your mind drifted to places you didn’t often like, life was fine. Life was slow, and life was good.

Lilac constantly gushed to you about Ellie, talking about all the progress they’d been making, asking your opinion on the girls behavior, which you always tried your best to help with. Although the strange thing about it all, was you heard nothing from Ellie about the situation. She didn’t mention anything about Lilac, not even when you brought it up.

It wasn’t long until you began distancing yourself from the both of them, knowing how hard it would be once they became official and you had to live life in a world where they were together.

Because although you were doing okay, the wound was still fresh, and you had to keep your peace.

You hummed a gentle tune softly as you continued hanging up your linen on the line, enjoying the feeling of the cool summer breeze against your skin, the dandelions dancing along through the air as they became loose from their stems.

The sound of your fence creaking open cuts right into your thoughts of housework, forcing you to turn around as you hang up another one of your sleep shirts, a soft smile on your lips when you catch sight of the familiar tall brunette walking into your backyard, both her hands shoved into the pockets of her denim jeans.

“Ellie…didn’t think you were coming over” you sigh out softly as you clip the end of your shirt up, continuing to hang up your clothes regardless of her being there.

“Was in the neighborhood….I thought I’d stop by” she breaths out, eyes taking in your form as you continue with your chore.

Her voice seems like something is bothering her, and you catch onto it the second she utters her first syllable. You know already why she’s here, to question you about your sudden absence, wondering if things were okay with you or not, worry clear in her tone.

“You…haven’t been around lately” she mumbles out, that same worried tone laced throughout her words.

It was just as you suspected.

You frown, thanking the task of laundry that hides your expression from her. It’s so much easier to lie to Ellie whenever you’re not looking into her eyes.

“Oh…I’ve just been uh…dealing with some stuff” you’re quick with the excuse, clearing your throat before you turn around to give her a soft smile. “I’m fine…honest” you give her your best attempt at a reassuring nod before you turn back to your laundry.

You have to turn away from her quickly, because you can see from the small glimpses you get of her that she’s frowning, and her brows are furrowed together with something that’s bothering her.

You hope she’ll leave after you tell her you’re fine.

But she doesn’t. You don’t hear her respond to your words, or even turn around silently to go about her day. You hear nothing behind you, only the sound of your white sheets wafting through the wind, drying on the line before you.

You frown when you look down to see your basket is empty, and the task of pinning up your clothes is no longer present to hide you away from Ellie.

So you need to get rid of her.

You inhale deeply, picking up the old basket and placing it on your hip, putting your most believable smile on your face before turning around, finally locking eyes onto the girl to see something that makes your heart sink.

It looks like she hasn’t slept, prominent bags under her pretty eyes, pouty pink lips chapped, most likely picked and bit at out of anxiety, a bad habit you knew she had whenever something was bothering her. Your heart tugs at the image, wanting nothing more than to pull the girl down into a hug, consoling her and telling her that whatever was bothering her, would be fine.

But you can’t. Because things aren’t the same anymore.

You inhale deeply before you nod your head towards your back door. “Well…I have lots to do inside…more house work…dinner” you explain, trying your best to hint at Ellie leaving without having to say so.

“Did I do something wrong?” She finally makes out, her words a clear plea to understand the situation rather than a half mumble that she’d rather not say.

It makes you furrow your eyebrows, watching the girl with a confused look as you try to understand her.

“Wrong? Ellie…I’ve barely seen you. What could you have possibly done wrong?” You try, confused of the sudden outburst from the girl.

Her eyes are stormy, hazy and hard to read. Her brows are knit as she looks down at the floor before looking back into your eyes, a prominent frown on her face.

“Why would you tell Lilac that there’s something worth looking for between her and I…why would you…” her words trail off, as if she wants to say more, as if she wants to persist with knowing why you would have done such a thing.

And soon it all starts making sense.

You wish Lilac wouldn’t have said anything. You wish she wouldn’t have told Ellie that you were the one that told her to go for it, even if she was the one that asked in the first place. You wish she would have just pursued Ellie without any mention of you, because was that even necessary? You know she must have done it to gush about you even further, the girl becoming enamored with you from the moment she saw you, and even more so once you two became closer.

But for the love of god…did she really have to tell Ellie that you were the one to tell her to go for it?

You open your mouth to speak before you sigh softly, your hands squeezing the handles of your clothes basket before you speak. “I….she spent the day down at the creek with me and when we were about to leave she told me she liked you…and she asked me if I thought she should pursue you” you explain with a shrug of your shoulders, which only makes Ellie scoff in disbelief.

“And you told her that was a good idea?” She argues back, as if it were the dumbest thing you could have ever done. She says it as if it were common knowledge to tell the girl other wise, you raise your eyebrows when she says this.

“Yeah? Why not? Lilac is…she’s fucking gorgeous Ellie. Anyone would be lucky to have her, and you should be happy I put you on with someone as great as her” you mumble out as you slip past the girl, clearly done with Ellie and this conversation as you walked up the wooden steps leading to your back door.

But Ellie isn’t finished with you, because she’s quick to follow behind, closing the door behind you as you make your way into your laundry room to set your basket down, your hands going to your hips once you turn around to see the girls built figure standing in your doorway.

“Ellie come on…I have things to do…you need to go” you huff out as you slip past her once again, going off into your living room to start on the dried laundry that needed to be folded, hoping that the girl would simply drop it and leave.

“You know I understood you the night after the show, and I was more than willing to give you all of the space you need, but this feels like you’re playing some sick joke on me” she’s standing over you now, watching as you try to ignore her in favor of some pillow cases that needed folding.

“Is pushing me into the arms of someone else your solution? And ignoring me until I’ve forgotten all about it? Is that the plan? Is that seriously what you think it’ll take to get rid of me?” She tries again, her voice pleading with you at this point as she watches you ignore her.

But this time you done, your hands drop to your lap as you stare up at her in disbelief before you toss the pillow case to the side, standing up opposite of her.

“I never had a plan! Lilac asked me a question and I was honest with her. There’s no reason why you shouldn’t be happy with someone else” you explain to her before you finally feel as though you’ve had enough, a huff of annoyance filling the silent air as you round the couch to slip away into the kitchen.

Before you’re fully there, Ellie’s voice is echoing off the walls.

“But I can’t be happy with someone else!” She shouts out, her arms flailing up inti the air before dropping down to her side, the sound of her palms slapping against her jeans before she sighs.

You stop dead in your tracks when you hear that one, your back still turned to her.

“How could I possibly be happy with anyone else when you’re all I fucking think about….” Her voice is tired, and it’s almost as if she’s begging you for something, something you are not capable of, something you cannot give.

Begging for you.

“From moment we had our first kiss….to the moment I said goodbye to you before you left for the city…I’ve only ever wanted you” you can hear her getting closer, slowly making her way towards you as you stand there at the edge of your kitchen, frozen, silent, unable to say anything to her as she confesses these things to you.

“It’s pathetic, and I’ve tried to suck it up for your sake because I know….you’re going through a tough time after that moron did what she did….but I can’t fucking hide anymore” she breaths out, and it sounds the same exact way that Lilac sounded when she admitted to you that she had feelings for Ellie those nights ago.

Your back is still turned to her, and you know she’s right behind you because her smell fills up your lungs and makes your eyes roll to the back of your head as you try to fight all of it back, everything that you’ve done, all that you’ve worked through from the moment you got home to get to the point that you were at currently.

But you feel all of it break the moment Ellie’s strong hand grips your shoulder gently, sighing softly as she speaks.

“Look at me….please angel…” she begs, her skin wafting onto your neck as she tries her best to fight the urge to grab you right then and there and kiss you.

When you finally turn around, her heart breaks, because the whites of your eyes are red, and there are heavy tears pooling at the edge of your eyes, making them sparkle in the warm light of your kitchen, looking so beautiful yet so tragic all in the same time.

Her chest tightens as she leans in to cup your cheek, fighting back the urge to groan as she inhales deeply. “I can’t…I don’t wanna pretend like I’m not still in love-“ you’re quick to cut her off, your tears spilling out onto her cheeks the moment you hear the word.

“Don’t…don’t say it” you warn her with shaky words, struggling to even speak with the burning sensation in your throat.

You don’t think you could handle it, hearing those words fall from someone’s lips again, the fear rising the moment they hang from Ellie’s, flashbacks of you’re wife at the alter, promising you everything and more before she kissed you and whispered in your ear that she loved you.

It’s scary, and it makes you feel terrified of Ellie.

Before she can carry on even further, trying her best to convince you that her words are true, silently begging you to hear her out as her wide green eyes stare down into yours, you’re cutting her off.

“I told you already Ellie…I’m not….i can’t do this again. I can’t give myself to someone like I did with her” your voice trembles as you explain, her vision blurring with tears as you try your best to swallow them all back.

She licks her lips as she stares down at you before she shakes her head. “I get it….I get that you’re hurting from what happened, but I can’t keep going on without you knowing anymore….” She starts to explain, both of her hands coming up to cup either side of your face, forcing you to look up at her.

“I’ve….god I’ve longed for you from the moment you left after high school. There was not a day that went by where I did not think of you for even a few seconds. And I’m sorry for what happened, and I understand if I’m just a childhood fling for you, but I’d rather you tell me that then try to push someone else onto me to distract me from what I’ve felt all these years” she rambles on, nearly stumbling over her words as they all bubble up to the surface, overflowing and dragging you down with her.

You open your mouth for a moment before closing it, looking far too similar to a fish out of water as you try to find the words to say. What are you even supposed to say? Are you supposed to lie to her? Tell her that you haven’t felt the same way? But now it’s different and it hurts to even try to envision yourself in a relationship with someone let alone pursue them? Even when it’s Ellie?

Your Ellie?

She watches as you struggle to speak, her eyes searching yours for even a sliver of hope that this will work, that her confession will bring you to a point where you can both meet, where things can be okay again.

And if they can’t? She needs to hear you say it out loud.

“Tell me you don’t feel the same” she deadpans, hands dropping from your face as any hope she might have had slowly drains out, fizzling out of her system as she watches you simply stare up at her, a mere shell of the girl she once knew.

“Tell me you don’t love me, and I’ll never bring this up again. We can move on from this and we can be friends. I promise” she breaths out, feeling the air slowly leaving her lungs, making it hard to breathe.

You feel the exact same way. You feel like the world has stopped around you both as images of your life swirls around your head.

There’s images of your ex wife, taking the privilege of love from you, ripping your heart out of your chest and walking away with it the moment she decided to cheat on you. It hurts, and it burns and it feels like something you’ll never recover from, something that leaves a wound so deep, that it will never grow the familiar leathery skin that it’s supposed to, creating a scar that acts as merely a memory for what happened, for what you endured.

And then there’s something sweeter in the corner, so small that if you pay enough attention to the hurt in your heart, you don’t even notice it.

It’s memories of Ellie. Sharing your first kiss with her, going to prom with her, spending late nights with her in your bedroom talking about the future, spending time with one another that will leave sweet memories in your mind till the day you die. It’s soft, and it’s easy and it makes your insides flutter with excitement at the mere thought of her by your side.

As you’re looking over all these parts of you, standing in your kitchen with Ellie and staring up into her eyes, you make a remarkable discovery.

You realize that if you try hard enough, the pain that comes from what your ex wife did doesn’t hurt as bad, long as you’re focusing on the feeling that Ellie gives you.

Because when you’re with Ellie, you feel nothing but love.

You lick your own lips as you stare up at her, inhaling deeply before you shake your head, feeling your throat burn with tears before you speak.

“I can’t do that….” Your words trail off for a moment before your eyes drift down to her strong hands, missing the feeling of her skin pressed against yours.

You slowly reach forward to take her tattooed hand into yours, your fingers dancing along the intricate details of the leaves on her wrist before you interlock your fingers, finally looking up at her as your eyes well up with tears for what felt like the hundredth time that day.

“Because I….feel the same way” you breath out, watching as her sage colored eyes glimmer with happiness, a gentle sigh of relief leaving her lips as she quickly moves her hand to cup your face, her other reaching down to hold onto your waist, pulling you close to her body.

“Jesus…c’mere” she practically moans out before she smashes her lips against yours in a passionate, love filled kiss.

You giggle softly, your hands wrapping around her wrist as you waste no time in kissing her back, arms coming up to loosely wrap around her neck as you press your chest against hers, reveling in the feeling of her lips pressed against your own.

You hummed a gentle tune to yourself as you mixed up the pitcher of lemonade, far too deep in thought to pay the bustling party behind you any mind.

One of your favorite parts about the summer time was the cookouts. There was something about nearly the entire town coming together at someone’s house, enjoying the warm weather, the bright sun and good food, that made your heart burst with excitement.

You were just about ready to make your way to your backyard with the others, when you felt a firm hand sliding against your waist, smoothing down over the fabric of your flower sun dress and pulling you into their chest.

“Don’t you think we have enough drinks baby?” Ellie hums out softly, pressing her lips against the base of your neck, making you giggle softly as you lean into her.

“It’s almost 100 degrees outside, Ellie…I don’t think too many things to drink is even a possibility” you explain before you turn around in her arms, smiling softly at the firm as you wrap your arms around her neck, leaning in to press a kiss to the corner of her lips.

“Aren’t you supposed to be on the grill? You better not burn all that food I bought” you playfully pinch her shoulder, which only makes her groan softly.

“It’s too hotttt….wanna be inside with you” she whines out, resting her head against your shoulder as she gently sways with you in the kitchen.

You hum as you nod, your fingers toying with the short hair at the nape of her neck. “I know baby….but your father will be very upset if he doesn’t have at least one beer with you…come on pretty girl” you hum out to her softly, your hands sliding down to hold her around her middle before giving her a gentle pinch near her ribs, which makes her yelp out as she pulls away, a prominent pout on her sun burnt, freckled face.

“Fine…but come out with me” she huffs out, leaning in to give your forehead a kiss before she makes her way outside, making you giggle softly.

You sigh softly to yourself, placing the lemonade on a small tray paired with some already filled red solo cups, and a few empty ones on the side that you knew would be getting filled up shortly after you brought them out. You had to move slowly with how full they were, groaning softly to yourself as you tried your best to not let them fall as you tried making your way through the crowd of people in your home.

“Oh honey let me help you with that!” You hear Lilac chirp out as she quickly comes behind you, pressing her hands against your waist before taking the heavy pitcher off of the tray, making you sigh in relief once you saw the girl.

“There you are! I was starting to think you wouldn’t show…” you pout out, smiling softly as the girl leaned in to press a friendly kiss to your cheek, which you were quick to lean into as well.

She giggled softly as she groaned. “Did you know that this party of yours is causin’ traffic out there?? Everyone’s dying to come, I almost ran out with the rollers still in my hair” she explains, making you giggle softly as she opened up your back door for you.

After everything happened with you and Ellie, you were terrified of what would happen with Lilac. You felt like you’d robbed the girl of something she wanted without even trying, even after being the one to tell her to go for it! Even after Ellie assured you time and time again that Lilac was always one to get innocent crushes on everyone, and that she’d get over it in no time, you were still scared that you’d lose the girl as a friend after just making her one.

You were quickly proven wrong when you met her in town a few days after, texting her and letting her know you had something to tell her. Instead of her being upset about you and Ellie, Lilac was thrilled. She grabbed you and hugged you, and told you that she even wanted to celebrate with you and Ellie, explaining that her crush was as innocent as could be.

And before you could even realize, Lilac had become your best friend.

You giggle softly as the children practically jumped you once they saw the tall pitcher of ice cold lemonade, frantically grabbing the cups and chugging them down before running off to play in the sun.

Catching sight of Ellie with her father and a few of her coworkers makes your heart flutter, and you decide to fill up a few more cups of the cold drink as you make your way over to them, a soft smile on your face.

“Lemonade anyone?” You chirp out softly, all of them taking them gladly before Ellie slung her arm around your waist, pulling you into her side as she pressed a kiss to the side of your head, carrying on with her conversation.

You don’t miss the way Joel smiles fondly at the two of you over the edge of his cup.

And later that night, when everyone’s left and the house is cleaned up, you lay with Ellie in your bed, the cool breeze blowing in through your windows, your bedroom illuminated by the white light of the moon.

You’re tucked away into Ellie’s side, your thigh hooked over her body, one of her hands rubbing along your skin and massaging your leg, the other looped around your shoulder as you stare up at her lovingly, your hand dancing along her t shirt clad chest.

“Did you have fun today?” You question softly, which earns a gentle smile from the girl before she looks down at you, giving you a slight nod.

“The best time baby….haven’t seen so many people gathered around for a party in a long time…you did good angel” she breaths out before she leans down, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek, which makes you smile warmly.

But the warmth doesn’t just settle in your cheeks.

A simple kiss from your girlfriend makes it travel down your body. It warms your throat, your chest, your stomach, traveling all the way down until it settles right in between your legs, making you clear your throat to bite back a whimper.

Ellie frowns softly when she notices this, pulling away to look down at you as she continues massaging your thigh. “Something wrong princess?” She questions, slight concern lacing her tone as she watches you with furrowed brows, her expression clear in the light of the moon.

When you and Ellie first started being romantic again, she promised you she’d take things slow. Your relationship only went far as kissing, a few gropes here and there, but nothing further than a steamy make out session that ended once Ellie tapped your thighs and forced you off of her lap, fearing that she was pushing you too far.

At first it was extremely considerate of her. It was true, intimacy was a bit hard for you at first, somehow thinking of your failed relationship every time you tried, blaming your self for not pleasing your wife enough.

But as time went on, those thoughts were virtually silenced. You didn’t even have the capacity to think of anything but Ellie when her tongue was down your throat, the feeling of her big hands on your body, and her toned thighs pressed between your legs.

So now…God…you needed her more than anything.

You were almost embarrassed to even say it, but it was getting to a point that anything Ellie did was setting you into a frenzy. Just today, her toned arms in here wife pleaser and her denim jeans made your head spin, and your panties cling to your needy core.

Her frown deepened when you didn’t answer, the girl turning over a bit to better face you before her hand came up to cup your cheek. “Baby? What’s the matter?” She questions once again.

You finally let out a soft sigh, eyes fluttering shut as you reach up to grab her wrist gently, keeping her close as you avoid looking into her eyes.

“I….need you Ellie…need you so bad” you sigh out softly, voice barely above a whisper.

Her frown only deepens further as she stares at you down in confusion. “Need me? But angel I’m right-“ her words are cut off when she feels your grip on her wrist tighten, and your thigh hikes up her body further, pressing your core against her side.

Her eyes widen in realization.

“Fuck…” she breaths out, watches as your eyes flutter open to stare into her own, yours filled with want and need as your other hand moves down to hold onto her exposed hip gently.

“Are you sure baby? We can…fuck…we don’t have to…” she struggles to get out, eyes glued to yours as she watches you.

You shake your head before you gently pry her hand from your face, bringing her fingers down to press against your lips before you sigh. “I’ve thought about you every day since I’ve left Ellie…of course I’m sure…” you sigh out softly before you open your mouth, taking her pointer and middle finger into your mouth as you slowly suck them in, moaning around them.

Ellie lets out a soft moan as she watches you, feeling her own clit pulse against her underwear as she quickly grows warm with a need similar to yours.

“That’s my girl…fuck….been needy huh?” She moans out, making you nod before you roll over to straddle her, her other hand coming down to grip your hip softly, massaging your skin through the fabric of her own t shirt draped over your body.

You let go of her fingers with a pop before you stare down at her, a soft smile on your face as you move down to press your lips against hers, wasting no time in pushing your tongue into her mouth.

The kiss is slow, and sensual and dirty and it’s everything you’ve wanted and needed since your divorce. It’s nothing like kissing your ex wife, but it’s everything like kissing Ellie. The noises she makes has your head spinning, and it forces you to roll your hips down onto her, which makes her moan even louder into your mouth.

“Fuck…want you to…wanna feel your pussy on mine baby…can you do that for me?” She questions out desperately, her hands roaming your body, pushing her t shirt up on your to reveal your tits.

Ellie had it all planned out. She wanted it to be romantic, she wanted to take things slow and show you just how much she loved you, just how serious she was about you. She wanted you to feel loved.

Oh did her plans not go as planned, but oh how you felt so fucking loved.

You nod eagerly, sitting up and tugging the t shirt off, tossing it somewhere in your room. Ellie moans loudly at the sight of you above her, hands reaching up and cupping either one of your boobs, pinching and rolling your nipples between her fingers.

Once she’s had her fun, you climb off of her for a moment, tugging off her panties, giving her time to tug her sleep shorts off as well, leaving you naked and her bottom half bare. She’s feverishly tugging you back onto her lap, allowing you to tug her t shirt off.

And the feeling of your bare chest pressed against hers makes you moan loudly, your lips coming down again to press a needy kiss to hers, filled with tongue and teeth as you both situate yourselves.

The moment comes quickly, your legs slotted between hers perfectly, pussy right on top of hers as she stares up at you with low, hazy eyes, strong hands gripping your thighs and your ass as you slowly began rolling your hips so that your throbbing clit bumps against hers, making the girl beneath you moan loudly as her back arches and her eyes flutter shut.

“F-fuck! Oh my….fuuuuckkkk…that’s it baby…fuck yourself down onto my pussy…oh my….ha-fuck” she moans out, voice going hoarse as her strong fingers press firmly into your skin, sure to leave marks in the morning.

Your moans mix with hers, paired with the sound of your sopping wet pussies sliding against one another, a symphony of erotic love making that has been a long time coming. It’s like the two of you let out every raw emotion that had been bottled up for all those years you spent apart, her longing, your hurt, it all mixes together to create something of a beautiful love song that belongs to the two of you, and no one else.

“Ellieee…fuck! Feels…feels so good..” you moan out, picking up the pace as you feel your orgasm growing closer and closer by the second, your bed creaking with every thrust of your hips.

Ellie can’t take it anymore, moving to sit up as she grips both of your hips, aiding you in riding her pussy faster before she gives you an encouraging nod. “Come on baby…cum with me, yeah?” She sighs out breathlessly, staring up into your eyes passionately as she feels her own orgasm growing closer.

You wrap your arms around her shoulders, keeping her closer as you moan and whine, eyebrows furrowing with pleasure as you struggle to make it there, struggle to not let the pleasure get the best of you.

Your heart feels like it’ll just burst.

“I…mmm…fuck….Ellie I love you…I love you so much…” you moan out, eyes fluttering shut as you feel right on the brink of your orgasm.

“That’s my fucking girl…I love you so much baby…more than you’ll ever know…” she moans out to you.

And suddenly, you see colors.

Your chest feels like you’ve been struck by lightening, struggling to even stay upright as your orgasm ripples through your body violently, your forehead resting against Ellie’s as your arousal mixes with hers, both of your orgasms so intense, so powerful, it feels like it’ll kill you both right then and there.

The come down is hard, because it’s almost sorrowful to no longer feel the amazing feeling that comes with making love to Ellie, but the feeling of her strong arms wrapping around your middle and keeping you close is almost better, her lips pressing against your collar bones and chest as you both breath hard, the room silent compared to the noise that once filled it.

She holds you there the entire time, whispering how much she loves you, promising you that she’ll give you everything you could ever want and need.

And while you’ve heard all of that before, just for it to end in shit….

You believe her, because this time? It’ll be different.