#like if anything from this post happens i need it to be a hug

[lopsicle]

Arcane season 2 spoilers

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I have been thinking A LOT about Jayce and Viktor, mainly the scene where Viktor is reborn out of his pod of Hexcore.

Mainly because it means a lot for Viktor’s character. On a fundamental level, he never seen much worth in himself, but he did see worth in inventions, the things he made, it’s how he could prove himself to the world. This is why he becomes so concerned with his illness and the legacy he’ll leave behind on the world; he needs the Hexcore to work because he doesn’t have anything else.

But now, he is literally fused with his invention, his invention that he has grown to hate because it killed one of the only people who truly saw value in Viktor, and not the things he could, partly due to his own negligence. Viktor put it best, in his pursuit of greatness, he failed to do good.

He doesn’t really know how to process what happened to him at all, he’s a smart man, he can clearly deduce that his body has undergone some cybernetic change, he can probably remember the explosion in the council room, but other then that, he’s just confused, hence why he asks Jayce, “what am I?” Viktor’s body is entirely different and unfamiliar, and taking into context that the Hexcore, his greatest invention which he tied all his worth to, has failed before this, it’s likely Viktor had lost sight of who he was, and his new body only served to further that descent.

Jayce can’t think about any of that though, he’s just happy that his partner is alive and who wouldn’t be, he’d been waiting for days, possibly weeks for him to wake. Viktor’s mortality is one of the things that Jayce has struggled with the most in the series, which is what makes his survivor’s guilt so much more pertinent. A lot of people claim that Jayce grew up rich and coddled, and I think that’s true to an extent, but they forgot his family were workers, tool smiths. Jayce seemed to grow up with the idea that he wasn’t that fortunate, that he was a working, middle class man who was going to change the world, and then he meets Viktor, a “poor cripple from the Undercity,” and then he sees what the Undercity is really like and the conditions people live in. And that’s when Jayce realises; he had it good. I believe this is what encourages part of his admiration of Viktor; he is what Jayce thought he was.

Tangent aside, I feel that their hug is a very, very important moment, mainly because of Viktor’s reaction.

He isn’t relieved or uncomfortable, it’s just…nothing. Given what Viktor says about how he doesn’t feel that it’s cold and just recognises that it is cold, I believe this is the moment where it fully sank in how much his body had changed. He couldn’t feel Jayce.

And like, first off, that is such beautiful symbolism for what he says later about how they’re relationship was only held together by affection. Viktor physically cannot feel said affection anymore and know has no reason to stick by the side of someone whose views have become so contrasted to his. But more emotionally, it’s representative of Viktor’s belief that he is unloveable, his new body is merely proof at that, he can’t touch Jayce, he couldn’t save Sky, he couldn’t make the Hexcore work properly, he couldn’t even get Jayce to destroy the Hexcore. To himself, Viktor is a failure who is unworthy of love.

But, he still huge Jayce back. Despite not being able to feel Jaycee’s warmth anymore, despite it feeling like his whole life has crumbled, Viktor wants to give Jayce one last act of service. Perhaps to prove that he still has use, or maybe this was the moment where he decided he would have to part ways with Jayce, and just wanted Jayce to remember his touch, even if Viktor couldn’t remember his.

Anywho if enough people like this dribble, I may post my take on the rest of this scene because it shattered me

[mer-acle]

Do you have any athena hcs?

Uhhh

How much time do you have lol

I'll try to list the short ones so this post doesn't get too long. Due to writing about her a lot I have a lot of lore lmao

1. Athena is the eldest child (Hephaestus born shortly after her). Nobody who's spoken to her once would expect anything else honestly

2. At the time of the Odyssey she's about 4000 years old (No reason or proof I just decided) Her first 200 years give or take were spent with Triton (read: Pallas)

3. She only got assigned with Warfare as her domain after officially joining Olympus

4. Her emotional distance with her siblings is partly due to Pallas trauma, and partly due to Zeus liking to "keep her to himself" (read: isolated as the favorite). She gets along best with Hermes and Hephaestus (yes, I refuse to accept Erechtonius happened) bc the former is just as chaotic as herself and the latter shares her creativity and both don't ask for a big commitment from her (again. No Erechtonius and no arranged marriages in my plotline let me have this)

5. Dislikes being touched. Her siblings learn to accept it, Zeus does not. She doesn't try to enforce it with him. (Yes in every iteration of her that I will ever write, there will be a touch-starved to hug plotline sue me. I need therapy)

6. Never braids her hair. She used to have braids when with Pallas, but since then she has never worn her hair this way again. She also wears it quite a bit shorter than she used to back then.

7. Her grey eyes are inherited from Métis. They also glow in the dark. She has perfect night vision.

8. Perfect memory. Also she has bird's eye view versions of even her own memories (hc that one of her domains is history so that's why) It's how she found out that Zeus interfered with Pallas's death.

9. Used to have an Oceanic themed armor before joining Olympus (Métis made it for her) She allows Hephaestus to make her a new one, shedding the Ocean symbols in an effort to please Zeus.

10. Connected to her status as a virgin goddess but in contrast to Artemis, Athena dresses pretty covered up, doesn't undress even for bathing (in ancient Greece sometimes you'd keep your chiton on as a sort of bathing suit almost, but being naked was more common) (also this is not 'purity' stuff btw I just get that vibe from her, Artemis, literally go off queen you're doing great)

11. Classic but good, cocks her head like an owl like all the time. Also says "hmm" a lot (intonation may vary)

12. (Remember, my hc, you can do whatever you like) I think all the virgin goddesses are acespec/arospec in some capacity, but Athena is the cut and dry aro/ace/repulsed one. Like... It's a big fat no from her (I'm projecting hard btw)

Anyway twelve seems like a good number I hope you like them :) I picked those that aren't specific to Epic and can be applied to myth!Athena too

[lexirosewrites]

Hi! For this slick sunday I was thinking about specific winter habits and changes that go through their bodies in an omegaverse world. No idea if it was talked about before but:

Omegas who gain weight just before winter hits, similar to how bears gain fat to protect themselves from the harsh weather. It's something that happens with less and less omegas since living conditions improved considerably throughout the generations, but sometimes it happens with omegas that are feeling really unsafe somehow. Their bodies can't pinpoint what is the source of danger so when the weather is about to change dramatically it just tries to guard itself from more problems.

So post Starcourt, Omega Steve thinks he's handling everything quite well. Right, he has ongoing nightmares and his injuries are still healing but hey, it could be worse! It could always be worse and he's handling it. Deep inside he desperately needs to be held, to have someone assuring that everything's under control and nothing bad will happen again, but these thoughts are constantly being pushed to the back of his mind. The pups and Robin need him, so he gotta be up and running. 

It's inevitable then when winter approaches: he starts getting chubbier. He has no idea why that's happening. With everything that happened he didn't notice changes on exercising and eating so it caught him by surprise. It ends up being Dustin who connects the dots and concludes the reason for this, which leads to Steve being the center of a very affectionate pup pile. They're often giving him hugs and scenting is even more frequent now, anything to help center Steve and make him feel safe. 

If that scene attracts the eye of an alpha that yearned for years to court Steve, well, the sight of the omega looking comfy and so pretty makes Eddie want to snuggle him even more than usual. Maybe that’s what pushed him to finally make a move (Dustin’s pep talk be damned). 

omega adaptation traits are so interesting tbh!!! i have a fic exploring the concept of omegas putting on weight prior to their heats (“More of You to Love”), but i like it being a weather related phenomenon since omegaverse is a pretty animalistic in nature💕

[garciaasfluffypen]

take care of me (like i take care of you) pt. 3

pairing: jemily x reader word count: 2.4k warnings: SURPRISE i finished part three and wanted to post it so i could get this cross posted to ao3 hehe. its time to talk(tm) about everything that happened! y/n's rejection sensitive dysphoria episode is a prominent aspect of this part. poor emily doesn't really know what to do except comfort her girlfriends, jj has some issues she's working through, y/n feels absolutely horrible about everything that conspired

after everything that had happened in the past two hours, you were drained. you barely made it to the bedroom before bursting out into tears. this was it. this was the big kablooey. jj hated you now, there was no doubt about it. considering the way she reacted when you had let the term slip past your lips… you never should have done it. you pushed too hard, and this was the end. you’d have to change your name and move to timbuktu so nobody could find you ever again and you’d never be able to embarrass yourself in front of jj and emily anymore. the harsh what did you just call me? reverberated through your mind as you let the sobs take over your body, practically doubling over with the sheer force of guilt. you couldn’t believe yourself. how could you let it get that bad? it hadn’t even been three months and you already fucked up. but that was just it, wasn’t it? the three month curse you were stuck with. nothing romantic ever lasted past three months. it was only time that this one ended, giving you a chance to reset and find something new. your exes were right, you were never good enough. you always did something wrong. it was bound to happen sooner rather than later, and you needed to expect the worst. 

peeling off the clothes you had worn to the zoo, you blindly felt in what had been dubbed your drawer for your jammies. you had gotten the shirt from an online store and it was the perfect shirt for when you were having bad days or sensory overloads. and a bonus, it was long enough to cover your butt and go halfway down your thighs. you had gotten it big on purpose, and you were glad you did. once you felt the fabric, you pulled it on and stumbled back to the bed, grabbing a pillow and holding it close to your chest as you continued to try and calm yourself down. logically, you knew you were over reacting, but the fact you were tired mixed with the immense guilt you felt for making jj feel bad… everything piled up and you found yourself trying not to spiral more than you already had. 

the door opened and a figure stood there for a second before coming over and pulling you into the biggest hug they could muster. after a second, the scent of emily flew through your senses and slowly but surely you started to calm down as you curled into her arms. 

“oh, lovey…” 

this was one of the downsides to how bad your adhd and rejection sensitive dysphoria was- when you cried, you cried hard. you had gotten good at bottling up your feelings into a little corner of your mind that barely got touched unless you had a whole weekend carved out to mope around. those weekends were far and few between these days, seeing as the budget increase the bau got gave them more opportunities to take cases. it wasn’t too bad, until this happened and you cried so hard you felt like you might throw up. 

you curled into emily’s chest, barely registering the door opening. a red eyed jj stood in the doorframe, hands wringing together as she looked for you. jj looked worse for wear, emily noted. the last time she had seen jj like this was when they were at the fertility doctor earlier in the year, when they talked about the possibility of emily carrying a viable pregnancy. but that wasn’t anything they could talk about right now. the puffiness around her eyes was evident, tear marks showing where she had piled on concealer earlier that morning. she sniffled, gaining your attention. your head perked up and you felt your heart drop when you saw how upset jj was. wordlessly, you shifted on the bed to make room for jj, letting her crawl in, curling herself up between the gap you had created. she wrapped her arms around you, squeezing you tight as she could as a single tear fell down her face. you wiped it away with the pad of your thumb, shooting her a small smile. 

“i’m sorry i reacted that way, baby.” 

her words were muffled into the palm of your hand, her breath dancing across your skin as you put your cheek on top of your head. your logical thinking skills slowly started to poke through the barriers your rejection sensitive dysphoria always put up during these moments, the realization that it also upset jj hitting you like a ton of bricks. you hated seeing her so upset, especially when you knew you caused some of the upset. granted, everything was still so new and you all were getting used to the idea of the three of you being together, but it still hurt you more than you could ever put into words. 

“no, it’s my fault.” you started. “i pushed you too hard. i should have asked before assuming i could just call you mommy and get away with it. do you…?” you trailed off, hoping that jj knew what you were trying to ask.  

“i’m not sure how i feel about the use of mommy.” jj said, quieter than normal. “it didn’t make me feel… i didn’t like it.” 

emily raised her eyebrow, slightly shocked that jj didn’t give you the full truth. while she knew what seemingly the true reason jj didn’t like being called mommy, she knew that it would be something she revealed to you in due time. hell, jj was still figuring it out herself. the dislike of the feminine terms was something that had started within the past year and a half. yes, jj was very feminine presenting and loved dressing up when given the opportunity, yet she had begun to start hating when she was perceived in a feminine matter. it was an interesting late life dilemma to have, and she wasn’t sure how to go about it. she had been so secure in her identity for years, and to start questioning everything? it had started to send jj into a spiral of thoughts she frankly wasn’t ready to think about yet.

the only other person who knew about her dilemma was tara. it had come out one night while the two were having wine after a long case and emily was stuck at the office filling out more paperwork than intended due to her having shot the unsub. the two of them were a bottle and a half deep into pinot gritiot, and jj had blurted out “do you ever just… not want to feel like a girl?” and now here they were, with emily being the second person to know that jj had started to despise the feminine terms of endearment she had been taught to love growing up. it scared her. but not as much as the thought of you thinking you lost her. 

“emmy?” you looked to emily. “do you like being called mommy? because for some reason it felt very natural and i don’t know why.” 

“we can toy around with it.” emily squeezed your hand. “thank you for asking.” 

“i’m sorry i was super bratty earlier, too. i let it go too far.”

“i thought it was hot, actually,” jj started to blush. “i do think we need to play around with different dynamics and what we’re okay and not okay with. nothing has to be set in stone, but if i’m being honest… it was…”

“i liked it when you got all controlling.” you finished jj’s thought. “i really did.” 

“would you want to play around with that more? me being more… in charge sometimes?” 

you nodded. “i’d like that. because i like listening to emmy but…” 

“it’s very easy for you to listen to me, i know.” emily smirked. “and it’s very endearing.”

“is that something you’re okay with?” you looked over to emily. 

“if you’re comfortable with it, then yes.” 

“color system applies to everything we try.” jj stated. “any time, you can tell us to stop and we will. or call yellow and we can talk it out. and it applies to you, too. if there’s anything that we don’t like, we’ll tell you.” 

you nodded. “is there anything else that i’ve done? have i made either of you uncomfortable?” 

emily couldn’t help but clock the nervous look in your eye, seeing the fidgeting start in her peripheral vision. it was sad for her, seeing you like this. she hated when you got sad. you felt certain emotions more than others, and when you did feel them they hit you like a ton of bricks. emily most likely would never know how that truly felt, but she could only imagine the thoughts flowing around in your mind that would make you feel less than. she couldn’t control herself, searching your eyes for any emotion other than guilt. it pained you knowing that you thought you were the reason the conversation was happening. she wanted to grab you by the shoulders and scream at you that it was not your fault and would most likely never be your fault, but she knew that would be counter productive. the three of you were all adults, you could talk about it like adults. 

jj on the other hand, felt horrible. her reaction was the reason you felt as if you were the reason the problem persisted. guilt plagued her as she stared at you, her hand coming up to gently brush back some of the strands that had fallen from your braid. she knew her own insecurities were the reason everything was going the way it was, and the main reason the three of you were sat here in various stages of emotional distress, but it was something she knew taking the blame for would just make you feel worse. she didn’t fully understand how your brain always made you think that you were the problem, but it was something you had been fighting for years. even penelope couldn’t get it through your brain that nothing was ever your fault. and that was saying something, since you and penelope had been friends for ten years leading up to when you joined the bau. both emily and jj knew it would take a while to get past the walls you had put up, but they didn’t realize how tough it would be. but it was a fight they were going to get through together, no matter what it meant. 

“nothing you’ve done could make us uncomfortable, y/n.” jj’s voice softened. “i know this is new, and it’s making you react in ways that you normally wouldn’t react, right?” 

you nodded. “i’m trying to be better, promise. i guess i just want to be taken care of?” you questioned. “but i have a hard time accepting it. like… i just want someone to take care of me like i take care of you. i’m just… i’m getting used to it.”

“is that why you were pushing today?” jj looked at you. “because you wanted to feel taken care of?” 

you sheepishly nodded. “a little bit. i liked it when you told me we were leaving and got all bossy.” 

jj smiled. “i can do that more. do you want to have a certain phrase or word to let me know when you want it?” 

“um… maybe like… a shoulder tap to start? i don’t want to say anything out loud, especially if it happens in front of the team.” 

“how about three taps left shoulder?” you nodded, a small smile forming on your face. “and if there’s anything we do when we’re out that you don’t like?” 

“i’m not sure of that one yet.” you swallowed. “i’m sorry we didn’t have this conversation earlier. we could have avoided this.” 

“lovey, having these conversations is one of the things we need to do to ensure we’re all happy. we can’t necessarily schedule them.”

“i still feel guilty." you sniffled. “i made jj feel bad.”  

“oh baby,” jj pulled you back closer to her as the guilt washed over you again. “i’m not mad at you at all. if anything, i over reacted to that. i promise you i’m not mad. i’m not mad at all.” 

“you promise?”

“i promise.” jj placed a soft kiss to the tip of your nose. “i’m sorry i made you feel like you hurt me.” 

“i’m sorry i didn’t ask you if i could call you mommy and made you upset.” you looked down at your hands, which were fidgeting with your shirt. 

jj lifted your chin up with her finger. “hey hey, none of that now. no more feeling bad.” 

you chuckled. “okay. i’ll try.” 

“how about i draw us a bath?” emily smiled at the two of you. “with the epsom salt for your sore muscles?” 

“that sounds really nice.” you smiled. “can we light the candle i like too?” 

“vanilla swirl or the one that smells like disney?” 

you pursed your lips, thinking. “the one that smells like disney.” 

“i’ll go grab it.” emily placed a kiss to the top of your head. “you feeling better?”

“a little bit.” you nodded. “i’ll be better soon.” 

“good.” she squeezed your hand. “i’ll go get everything and let you know when the bath is ready.” 

emily slipped out of the bed and went to go get your candle, leaving you and jj sitting on the bed together. she placed her forehead against yours, her hand going to cup your cheek as you sat in the silence. 

“i-”

“if you say i’m sorry i’m pushing you off this bed.” 

you chuckled lightly. “i do feel bad.”

“and i��m telling you that you don’t have to. promise. every relationship is going to have it's issues. we’re just able to talk them out because we’re adults.” 

“yeah, you’re right.” you put your head in the crook of jj’s shoulder. “thank you for not being mad.” 

jj smiled. “thank you for listening and not freaking out when i told you i didn’t like it.” 

“i mean i freaked out a little bit.” 

“but not a lot.” jj chuckled. “you’re adorable.” 

“you are too. like, a lot.” 

you snuggled into jj’s arms, curling into her side. it made you feel a lot better knowing that she wasn’t super mad at you like you thought. while you still felt guilty for making her feel bad, it made you feel better knowing that jj didn’t think of you any differently. 

and that she still deeply cared about you. 

taglist: @jayden-prentiss @idkwhatever580 @multifandomlesbianic @softestqueeen

[willows-writings]

‼️This post is part of a choose your own adventure series and is not meant to be read stand-alone. Click HERE to go to the masterlist and Chapter beginnings‼️

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Ask if he's ok

Chapter 2

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Your concern wins you over and you pull back from the kiss. As you pull away Josh lets out a small groan and reaches up to try and kiss you again. You laugh and gently place a hand on his mouth. “Josh, wait, are you doing ok?”

He groans “Y/n no offense but we are not a one night stand who just met each other, we don’t have to do the whole get to know you thing.” he mumbles from behind your hand.

You grin for a moment before your face goes back to serious. “No I mean, with all the guys being here, and I guess… just being here in general.” You remove your hand from his mouth.

His face falls and he moves to sit up, scooting back so his back rests against the headboard and pulling your body with him so you remain on his lap. “Look y/n, in all honesty it freaks me out a bit, I miss them but more than anything I’m happy they all came up here, happy you're here.” He trails a hand down your face and you lean into it. You know there’s more, but you also know these next few days aren’t the time to interrogate him about it. 

“Ok,” You whisper and move your face to press a kiss to his hand “Ok, anything you need I’m here” 

He smiles at you and hugs you close to him. 

Suddenly you hear a noise from outside the room. Josh groans “Someone definitely just broke something, fuck.” He moves you off his lap gently, stands and starts to walk to the door while you remain sitting on the bed.

“Hey,” he turns to your voice, “what if… we just stay here tonight? I mean tension in the group is still running high, there’s a good chance everyone else will stay split off or just go to sleep. We could make hot chocolate and popcorn? Watch a movie? I got a few of those horror films you like downloaded on my computer? It’ll be fun!” You know at this point you're rambling but you can see his face softening the more you talk. 

“That sounds like a wonderful idea.” He briskly walks over to you so he can plant a dramatic kiss on your forehead. When he looks at you again there’s a huge smile plastered across his face. “I’ll check on everyone else and get the food and you can stay here, pulling up that movie, and just stay looking pretty for me which shouldn’t be too hard cause you always are.” He winks and you roll your eyes. “I’ll be no more than an hour, maybe get some rest, it’ll be a long night.” He says the last part while walking out the door in a sing-songy voice. 

You smile before remembering something from earlier. “And you know Chris told me about that snow angels comment from earlier.” He leaned back in the room, his interest peaked. “That will not be happening.”

Josh lets out a laugh as he closes the door behind him.

The door closes behind him and you lay back onto the soft pillows, he’s right, a nap would be nice right about now. You close your eyes and let sleep overtake you.

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End of Chapter 2

You got: Ending #4

Chapter 3: Beginning #4 (coming soon!)

OBaC Masterlist

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I like to think if you were actually playing the game this would be the choice that would increase your relationship with Josh the most.

For anyone confused when this takes place it’s around the time Mike and Jess are walking to the cabin, and before Josh goes with Chris and Ashley. Sam failing to turn the heater on alone was the noise.

[sakashq]

the beach / kai havertz x reader.

🌀 summary: you’re having a bad night but your boyfriend just knows how to make everything better.

🌀 yap!: double post! reader isnt implied as anything so imagine her as you wish! based on the song by giveon my favee. dedicated to my lover @ar4ujos because she is the ceo of kaisenal<3. also to the girliess @szalovebot , @halfwayhearted , &&. @planetpedri. i love you 💙

“Come on… pick up,” you sighed as the phone rang. You were calling your boyfriend, needing a support system after an altercation with your annoying coworker. Kai was always the person you went to no matter what. In your defense, he made it clear that he would always support you and listen whenever you needed to talk. He was a good guy, and your year long relationship proved so.

“Hello?” His voice sounded from the other line.

“Hey, do you have time?” You asked him, making sure he wasn’t busy first.

“Of course I have time for you, baby. What’s up?” His response got a smile out of you, already making what just happened seem like a distant memory.

You explained to him about how your coworker wasn’t doing the right job, inevitably ruining what you had already done. He had the nerve to argue with you about it, even though he was wrong. “I’m just kind if stressed out right now because I only have thirty minutes to fix it.”

“Hm,” Kai replied. He said that whenever he was thinking, so you knew he was coming up with a response. “Okay, hear me out. Make him do it and complain to your boss about him. This isn’t the first time he’s fucked things up. Just don’t let it ruin your day.”

You replied with a hint of playfulness in your tone, “I fear it already has.”

“Okay, I’ll make it better. What are you doing after work?”

“Going home. Why?”

Kai responded, “Just curious. I’ve gotta go, I have training. But I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

“Okay, bye, I love you.”

“I love you.”

You got home at around 5:30, showering immediately and getting ready to relax. As 6 p.m. hit, you got a text from your boyfriend.

As promised, Kai arrived at 7:28 on the dot. You didn’t know how he did it, but it was funny nonetheless. He came to your doorstep to greet you, you opening the door to a bouquet of roses.

“You look beautiful, baby,” Kai smiled, wrapping his arms around your waist and locking you in a warm embrace, still being careful not to crush the flowers. You melted into his touch, throwing your arms around him.

“Thank you, handsome,” you smiled back, holding him out with your arms and taking his outfit in. “This gave me absolutely no hint as to where we’re going, but I love it.”

“You might wanna change your shoes,” he completely disregarded what you said, grabbing your hand and bringing you inside. You thought your heels complimented your pink ruffled ‘jellyfish’ dress, but maybe not then.

“Still no hint?” You asked one more time, hoping that he’d give up a tiny detail.

“Unfortunately no. You should wear your sandals, though. That’s your hint,” he shrugged, finding a vase to put the bouquet in.

After a thirty minute drive, you finally arrived to your destination—the beach. Of course it was night time, but you had always told him that no matter the time of day, the beach would always make you happy. He clearly remembered this conversation, bringing it up as he pulled into a parking spot.

“Flowers, the beach, what’s next?” You inquired with a smile, being unable to hide your excitement for the night.

“Just wait and see.”

He walked you to a specific spot hand in hand, leading you to a picnic blanket set with food, wine, and a candle on it. It was surrounded by rose petals and accompanied with a small speaker softly playing romantic music. “I had this guy bring the food out here like ten minutes ago so I’m hoping it’s not cold.”

“Kai…” you trailed off, feeling overwhelmed with adoration. “This is so sweet, I love you.” You wrapped your arms around him, hugging him tightly.

He smiled and hugged you back, his arms making a way to your waist. “I love you. Okay, let’s sit.” He sat on the blanket, bringing you down with him.

The candle continued to burn and the music still sounded in the background under your voices and satisfied comments on the meal.

“Did I tell you you look beautiful?” Kai looked over at you with a bright smile. He was clearly proud of what he had done and even prouder that it hadn’t failed to brighten your day.

“Yes, you did,” you chuckled. “How did you plan all of this in two hours? I thought you had training.”

“A little white lie never hurt anybody,” Kai replied with a sly smirk. You smiled in response, not at all surprised by his sneaky antics.

You looked over at the water, sighing with endearment. You stared off into the ocean, the smell and feeling of it all trapping you. Kai pulled you out, scooting closer to you and wrapping his arm around you.

“Pretty, isn’t it?” He said softly, his words barely above a whisper.

“Yeah,” you responded, your voice reaching his volume.

He looked at you, not catching your eye until he said, “It’s got nothing on you, though.”

“Is that so?”

“If I had to choose between you or the ocean, I’d pick you,” he gave you a kiss on the too of your head. He added, “Never really liked sand anyway.”

You giggled, then lay your head on his shoulder. “Thank you for tonight, Kai. Really, I don’t even know how you did it.”

“I told you earlier I was going to make your day better.”

“That you did.”

[queer-reader-07]

if there is one thing that i want from good omens s3, it is tenderness & domesticity.

i want hugs (real nice comforting hold on so tight the other can’t break away but not so bone crushing it’s uncomfortable kind of hugs)

i want hand holding and pet names. “angel” “my dear” “darling” (oh the things i would do just to hear aziraphale call crowley “darling”)

i want cuddling on the couch. i want hands playing with the other’s hair. and maybe a forehead kiss. i want closeness.

i want crowley tending to the plants in their garden in the cottage in the south downs. and i want aziraphale reading on the porch while crowley gardens.

i couldn’t give less of a shit if they kiss on the lips again. i definitely don’t want a sex scene. (not in canon, keep on writing your smutty fics)

i just want them to finally be completely at ease in each other’s presence. i want them to not be on edge, to not have to think before touching. i want them to be able to relax and just be tender with each other and close.

[post3l]

[barkingangelbaby]

@ last reblog. it wasn't. life and people can just be cruel.

[inkskinned]

the thing about some men is that they want you to remember, at all times, that you are underneath them. that with one word or look or "joke", you will stay beneath them. that even "exceptions" to the rule are not true exceptions - the commonly cited statistic that one in eight men believe they could win against serena williams.

women's gymnastics is often not seen as real gymnastics. whatever the fuck non-euclidian horrors rhythmic gymnasts are capable of, it's often tamped down as being not a sport. some of the most dominant athletes in the world are women. nobody watches women's soccer. despite years of dancing and being built like a fucking brick, men always assume they're faster and stronger than i am. you wouldn't like what happens when they are incorrect. once while drunk at a guy's house i won a held-plank challenge by a solid minute. the party was over after that - he became exceedingly violent.

what i mean is that you can be perfect, and they still think you're ... lacking, somehow. i hope you understand i'm trying to express a neutral statement when i say: taylor swift was the possibly the most patriarchy-palatable, straight-down-the-line woman we could churn out. she is white, conventionally attractive, usually pretty mild in personality. say what you will about her (and you should, she's a billionaire, she can handle it), but a few things seem to be true about her: 1. she can write a damn catchy song, and 2. the eras tour truly was a massive commercial success and was also genuinely an impressive feat of human athleticism and performance.

i don't know if she deserves the title of "woman of the year," i'm not debating that in this post. what i am saying is that she was named Woman of The Year, and then an untalented man got onstage at the golden globes and made fun of her for attending her boyfriend's football games. what i am saying is that this woman altered local economies - and her dating life is still being made into a "harmless" punchline. the camera panned, greedy, over to her downing a full glass of champagne. congratulations taylor! you are woman of the year! but you are a woman. even her.

fuck, man. write better material.

a guy gets onstage at a college graduation and despite the fact like half the crowd is made up of women, he spends a significant proportion of it warning these people - who spent possibly hundreds of thousands of dollars on their education - that they were lied to. that the "real" meaning of femininity is motherhood. that they shouldn't rest on the laurels of that education-they-paid-for but instead throw it away to kneel at a man's heel. imagine that. sweating in your godawful polyester gown (that you also had to pay for!), fresh out of 4 years of pushing yourself ever-harder: and some guy you've never met - who knows nothing about you - he reminds you this "win" is a pyrrhic one at best. you really shouldn't consider yourself that extraordinary. you're still a woman, even after years of study.

god forbid you are not a pretty woman, but if you are pretty, you must be dumb. god forbid you are not ablebodied or white or cis or straight or good at swallowing. you must be beneath a man, or else they are not a man. the equation for masculinity seems to just be: that which is not a woman or womanly (god forbid). anything "feminine" is thereby anathema. to engage in "feminine" things such as therapy, getting a hug from a friend, or crying - it is giving up ones manhood. therefore women need to be put in their place to ensure that masculinity is protected.

this is something i have struggled to explain to terfs - they are not doing the work of feminism, but rather the patriarchy. by asserting that women and men must be (on some secret level) oppositional and in conflict, they also assume that being a woman is akin to being another species. but bigotry does not stem from observational truths or clarity - that is what makes it bigotry. there was nothing in my childhood that made me fundamentally different from my brother. we are treated differently nonetheless. to assert there is some biological drive that enforces my gender role is to assert that women have a gendered role. men do not see women as equal to them not because of biological reality - but instead because the core tenant of the patriarchy is that women aren't full, realized people.

we are told from a very young age to excuse misbehavior as a single man's choice - not all men. it is not all men, just that one guy. all women are gold-digging bitches who belong in the kitchen - but if a man is mean, bigoted, or violent to you, it's just that particular guy, and that means nothing about men-as-a-whole. it is only one guy who got mad when you gently rejected him. it is only one guy who warns her this trophy is heavy, are you sure you can hold it? it is only one guy who smashes her face into the cake. it is only one guy talking into a mic about hating our bodily autonomy.

i have just found that they often wait until the moment we actually seem to be upstaging them. you sit in a meeting where you're presenting your own findings and he says get me a coffee? or you run to the end of the marathon and are about to finish first and he pushes your kids out in front of you. you win the chess game and they make some comment akin to well, you're ugly away. we can be the billionaire and get the dream life and finally fucking do it and yet! still! they have this strange, visceral urge to say well actually, if you think you're so great -

it's not one just one guy. it's one in eight.

[parfaitblogs]

fresh out the slammer ❀ s. reid x reader

in which spencer reid comes home from prison, and needs to fulfil everything he has missed about you. 

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader genre: smut & comfort (18+ mdni) tags: post prison!reid. soft dom!spencer. teeth might rot i was cringing during some of this. established relationship. the briefest of breast play because what do i hate? the word nipple! fingering. p in v. no protection is mentioned but imagine what you will. casual nudity afterwards. spencer's got bruises from prison. i lowkey forgot about his thigh wound until the very end.  word count: 5.7k a/n: there's a completely different version of me in a world where i didn't write this. i hope she's doing well. i feel like i've been reborn. this is stupidly long LOL my apologies. pleaseee tell me if you liked this! or if you didn't! i love feedback! here's my monthly smut fic see you all in october!

Three months wasn't a long time, in the grand scheme of things. A quarter of a year usually went by too quickly for anybody's liking, the year sprinting through seasons until all twelve months were complete, and you were repeating it all over again. Usually. Three months without Spencer Reid, however, went by achingly slowly. And you hadn't originally considered just how agonising they could be. 

Each day was another painful mirror of the last, waking up and going to bed with the same sense of dread in your stomach, oftentimes swallowing you whole and leaving you unable to do just about anything at all. 

Living life without Spencer Reid was hard.

You saw him — of course you did. Despite his original efforts to keep you off the approved visitors list, Penelope Garcia had seen one glimpse of your heart shattered expression upon being told, and marched her way to the prison to slap sense into him. You weren't sure if that was metaphoric or not. 

However, seeing him once every other week and living with him were two very different situations. You hadn't realised just how much you had depended on him always being there when you woke up in the morning until you were waking up to cold bed sheets and a pillow clutched petulantly to your chest in hopes of recreating the warmth only Spencer could provide. 

And then he was free. 

From prison, that is. You hadn't heard it all — information about his time in prison had been kept from you in an attempt to protect your own peace of mind. But you knew from at least the bruises he was always sporting no matter when you went to visit him, that something awful had happened to him in there, and his own brain would keep him imprisoned for as long as it wished. 

But he was free.

And he was here, and you were staring up at his face littered with unkempt facial hair and a head of untreated curls, and regardless of everything horrific he had endured brewing behind his eyes, he was staring at you with the same softness he had before any of this happened. 

Despite the beginning of a protest when you wrapped your arms around his torso, you hugged him, and he hugged you, and even the faintest smell of grime and blood couldn't stop you from gripping onto him with so much force you thought your knuckles would break. 

"You're real," you whispered into his chest, muffled by it, and it shook beneath your face as he laughed, quietly. Beautifully.

"I am," he answered, and you could feel him crushing his own facial features into the top of your head, no doubt inhaling your shampoo. "You're real."

"Yes," you confirmed with a nod.

Maybe hours passed, perhaps only minutes. Whichever it was, you were still reluctant to pull away from him until he did, your face stained with tear streaks you don't remember shedding, his own eyes glassy as your gazes met. 

"You don't want to talk about it, do you?" you asked him, walking backwards as you led him out of the doorway you two had been finding solace in, and further into the apartment space you were ecstatic to share together again. 

"Not particularly," he answered, strides catching up to you and encasing your waist between his hands, tugging your body closer to his own. "Is that okay?"

"As long as you promise not to keep it in," you replied, teeth chewing into your lower lip in a contemplative habit. 

"I have counselling at work," he said, and you nodded, your facial features softening only a little — you knew him well enough to know he wouldn't enjoy said counselling sessions. Breath tickled your lips as he leaned in a little closer, inciting heat onto your cheeks. "Any other questions?"

"No," you replied, your own lips twitching in amusement. "That's it. Why?"

"Because I haven't kissed you in three months," he murmured, "and I want to."

"Maybe," you said with a hum, and he said your name chidingly, eliciting a laugh from you. "Yeah. Okay."

To be honest, you had spent a few too many nights allowing your thoughts to wander and end up dreaming about what it would be like to kiss him again. Whether or not either of you would have the patience to be gentle and kind to one another. In those nights, you had decided you would be. Your heart cracking every time you thought of Spencer alone in a concrete cell that it left you with a gaping hole in your chest. All you really wanted was to hold him and remind him how adored he was. 

Right now, you learned you wouldn't be. 

There was a tenderness in the way his hands found your cheeks to cup, and there was a softness in his fingertips against your skin. Yet, everything he kissed with was anything but. Feverish and quick, swallowing you whole and inspiring a spark in your chest that resulted in you kissing back just as hungry. 

Just when you thought there was nothing left to trigger within him, a squeak left your lips as the result of him tugging you impossibly closer, and he was beginning to walk you backwards, even further into the apartment, his kiss growing all consuming. 

"Spencer," you said, breathlessly, jerking your head back, staring at him, waiting for him to realise you weren't returning your lips to his, and his eyes opened. 

"What?" he asked, almost irritatedly. When he watched the slight flicker of hurt flash on your face at the tone, his own expression became gentler. "I'm sorry. Is something wrong?"

Immediately, you shook your head. "No. I just wanted to check how far you wanted to go," your hands travelled up to his hair, fingers scratching gently against his scalp. "I know there's a lot going on up here."

"Actually, right now it's just you," he said, tilting a head to the side to lean into one of your palms. "It's mostly you all the time. But right now you're consuming it."

"I make such an impact on your life," you quipped. 

"I know you're teasing, but you do," he replied, fingers tracing up and down either side of your jawline, eyes searching each small detail on your face he had no doubt already memorised. "I survived in there for you."

"Oh."

Probably not the most eloquent response for the things he had just confessed, but truly your brain had scrambled within an instant, and you weren't sure what to say.

"Sorry," he said, hands stilling on your face. "To answer your question, I don't know. I really missed you."

"I know," you said when a gaping silence followed his words. "We don't have to."

"I think I want to."

Your eyebrows furrowed. "You can't think, Spence. You've gotta know."

"I've definitely said that to you before," he chided, thinking for a moment, before, "yes. I did. First time we had sex."

"Sue me for repeating important sexual advice to you, Spencer Reid," you huffed. He laughed. 

"No, I mean, I do. Want to," he finally replied. "I'm really scared of hurting you."

"Do you want to hurt me?"

"No."

"Then you won't," you reassured him, despite knowing whatever doubt he had in himself would not be resolved just like that, and it'll probably eat at his mind for a long while. "And even if you do, I won't be upset with you." When his face scrunched and his expression mirrored judgement, you stammered to clarify. "Not in a kinky way. Don't look at me like that, Spencer. Stop it. I just meant I'll understand. And I won't be mad."

"Didn't take you to be into masochism," he mumbled, and you groaned at his selective hearing, dropping your forehead to his shoulder, that shook with his laughter. "Kidding, honey. I know what you mean."

"Not funny."

"It was a little," he countered, a hand reaching up to entangle within your hair to pull your head back, gently, so he could look at you again. 

"Hi," you said when your eyes locked once more. 

"Hello," he answered, his lips pulling into a smile. "I'd like to kiss you again."

"You've used up your kiss for the day, actually," you replied, sweetly beaming up at him. 

"Quiet," he shot back, leaning forwards and allowing his lips to brush hesitantly against yours, eyes searching your own with an added hint of desperation. "Please?"

You pretended to think for a moment too long, because he was already mumbling something that sounded a little like 'brat', and pressed his mouth to yours once more. 

You couldn't complain. 

It was the same intensity as earlier, and yet there was something in it that differentiated the homesickness of the kiss from then, and the desperation now. Large hands — that you would probably allow to encase you whole — pathetically held your face lightly, hips knocking with yours as he walked you backwards and up against the back of the couch. 

"Spence," you whimpered embarrassingly, hands clawing at the sleeves of his suit jacket, trialling and failing at tugging it off his body. 

"I got you, sweet girl," he mumbled against your lips, not breaking the kiss for even a second as he helped you, shrugging the jacket off and allowing it to fall to the floor — something he will certainly chastise himself for later. 

"Bedroom," you said, in between heavy breaths and feverish kisses. A request he was more than happy to comply to, for he had nodded, and you were instantaneously tugging on one of his hands in the direction of the room, his eyes fixated on your body as he trailed behind. 

"Missed you so much," he murmured as he tugged you back towards him the second he had kicked the door shut, lips finding the corner of your mouth, then your jawline, then your neck, as he kissed down you. 

"So you've said," you breathed out, tilting your head to the side as he gently nipped at the skin. 

"Do you get off on being mean to me?" he chided, lifting his head to look at you again, and your heart stuttered. 

"No. Just that dominance act that it brings out," you murmured, attempting to keep the mood light. Successfully so, for air huffed out of his nose as his lips twitched, fingers that had dropped to your waist squeezing it gently. In unresolved doubt, you added, "I missed you too. Don't worry."

"I'm not," he replied, and the weight lifted off your shoulders. "Lie down."

"So demanding," you teased, though his tone was anything but firm.

You were met with an unimpressed look, and you merely grinned back as you climbed onto the bed, sitting cross legged atop it, staring up at him expectingly.

Instead of moving over you like you had expected, he crouched at the foot of the bed, holding his hands out on the mattress in front of you. Needing no more than the simple gesture, you untangled your legs and stretched them out in front of you, and he tugged you down towards the end of the bed, breath hitting the skin of your thighs deliciously. 

"I'm supposed to be making you feel good," you argued when his fingers trailed up the sides of your legs, finding the waistband of your pyjama shorts.

"Why?" he questioned, halting his movements as he searched your face. 

"Because you're the one who just got out of prison," his face scrunched at the verbal reminder. "Sorry. But... yeah. I have thought about making you come the day you got home like daily."

"Oh have you?" his eyebrows shot up, and it was then that your brain caught up to your running mouth, and your cheeks heated up. 

"Nope. Forget I said anything."

"No," he pushed himself up from the floor, moving his body over yours on the bed, successfully forcing you to lie back. "Tell me those thoughts."

"Spencer," you moaned, shaking your head as you buried your face into your hands, that he was a little too quick to catch and pry away. 

"I'm not going to judge you," he said, amused. "In fact, I aspire to know every single thought there is up in that pretty head of yours. Especially the ones about me. Please tell me."

"I just thought about making you come. There's nothing more exciting to it."

"Yes, but how?" 

"My mouth, I guess," you mumbled, voice going impossibly quiet. "I don't know."

"You're acting like you have never given me oral," he said, catching your gaze within milliseconds of you averting it, thumb and forefinger straightening your head again. 

"Nobody says oral, Spencer. Say head," your own face now scrunched up. 

"Lots of people say oral," he defended. 

"Yeah, old people. We are not old people."

"Fine, you're acting like you have never given me head." 

Despite it being a jab at him to take the heat off of you, the phrase coming out from his lips sounded exceptionally vulgar for what it was, and it only resulted in your stomach flipping. 

Finally, you regained some control over your own thoughts, and you found it in you to reply. "That's what I want to do. Because I want to make you feel good."

"You underestimate how much I gain from making you feel good," he countered, fingers lazily caressing the skin of your jaw as his eyes studied your face with an intensity that had your stomach flipping. 

"It cannot be as good as an orgasm," you huffed, stubbornly so. 

He nipped at your nose. "It is."

"Can we compromise?" 

"So you don't want me to give you oral?" his eyebrows rose. 

In every other situation, you would not be fighting him on this. In fact, he would probably have already gotten his foreplay of teasing and teetering you on the edge out of the way by now, and you'd be well and truly content. However, the forefront of your mind was still plagued by how little time Spencer had to take care of himself, and the last thing you needed him to be was at your service. Despite his protests. 

"Head," you corrected. "And no."

He searched for remnants of a lie for a few beats longer, before he nodded his head, giving in. "What's your compromise, honey?"

"I don't think there's a sexy way to say to just put it in me," you said, and his lips curled up into an amused smile, followed by a huff of laughter. 

"No, I don't think there is," he agreed. "I do think anything you say can be sexy, though."

You pulled a face, and you shook your head. "No. Don't say that ever again either."

"I can't compliment you, I can't give you ora��head," he rattled off. "Is there anything good I get out of this?"

"You get to fuck me?" you batted your eyelashes up at him. 

"Such vulgar language," he chastised, ducking his head when a hand of yours rose to swat him. 

Despite himself, his head had dropped to the crook of your neck, and he had begun placing feather like kisses along the skin that distracted you just enough to drop your hand back to the mattress beneath you.

Any other day, and you'd probably still be bickering with him until the minute he made you come. However, three months without even the faintest of touches from him left you overwhelmed with everything he did to you, and so the gentle kisses trailing down to the collar of your shirt were enough to destroy any coherent thoughts you could have. 

Cautiously, and with a touch so delicate, Spencer lifted your — his — shirt up your abdomen, fingertips leaving behind the warmest of trails as they skimmed along your skin. One quiet whine from you was all it took for him to hurry his teasing along, and soon enough your shirt was discarded. 

A quiet, sharp inhale of air was the other sound aside from your quickened breathing, and you felt tears sting your vision as another kiss was placed just below your now exposed collarbone. 

The time without you seemed to weigh nothing in his mind as he took every inch of you in separately, lips mapping out your body like it was the first time all over again, though still knowing exactly when to pause and pay attention to for the sweetest of sounds to be ripped from your throat. 

He liked to hear you. 

Fingers found your waist as his lips kissed down your sternum, then back up and over until they reached your nipple. He spent time on each breast, ignoring your impatient whining as he neglected the rest of you for a few minutes too long (in your opinion).

"Spencer," you scolded, and it was all it took for him to accept you were not in the mood to wait, and for him to decide he wasn't either. 

"Sorry, honey," he replied, voice impossibly soft as he returned his lips to your face, a kiss pressed to the corner of your mouth as his fingers found your shorts again. "Can I take these off?"

"I think we're incredibly out of balance," you replied. And though there wasn't really anything wrong with the sentence — you had certainly said it before — he still pulled back, an unrecognisable grey clouding his eyes. "What?"

"I want to keep my shirt on," was his response, the words inciting confusion to your face. 

"What? Why?"

"Do I need a reason?"

You wanted to scream that yes, he did. But did he? Wordlessly, you shook your head, but it didn't help the pang of worry in your chest. 

"Unless there's something like an embarrassing tattoo, I'm not going to judge you," you decided to say instead. "Did you get an embarrassing tattoo in prison?"

"No," he shook his head, and you were comforted by the amusement in his tone. "I didn't have the best time in prison."

"I know," you replied.

"And I wasn't very liked. By the men in there."

You knew that too, to an extent. You knew the bruises on his face weren't self inflicted. "You're liked by me."

"I know, sweet girl," a heart shatteringly sad smile stretched across his face as a hand lifted to your cheek. "It just isn't very pretty. And I don't want you to worry."

Well, now you were. Regardless, you nodded your head, turning your head to the side so you could kiss the palm of the hand on your face. "I won't worry, then."

"I want to keep my shirt on. Can that please be okay with you?" 

Silently, and after a debate inside your brain, you nodded your head. Gratefully, he pecked your lips once more, before his focus shifted back to you and your body. 

"Shorts. Can I take them off?" he asked, again.

"Yes."

"Thank you."

His fingers collected the fabric of your shorts' waistband, and gently pulled them down your legs, cool air washing over you despite the final leftover article of clothing on your body. You shivered, and you could hear him mumbling nearly incoherent apologies as he kissed your stomach.

"These too?" he then asked, eyes flickering between your face for confirmation, and the pair of underwear you still had residing on your body. You nodded your head, and he pulled them down too.

You do not remember a time ever fearing being naked beneath Spencer Reid's gaze, and that did not change even now, as an arguably different man drank in your entire body, the love he had for you not having wavered despite the passing of time. 

And you certainly did not fear the way one of his hands slid up your leg, seemingly soothingly, until it teetered on the edge of too far up the limb to be innocent, and he was intensely watching your face for every reaction you could possibly make. 

Achingly gently, his middle finger ran up the centre, collecting arousal you hadn't realised was there and knuckle gently bumping your clit, eliciting a quiet mewl from you. You watched him smile at the sound, dragging his finger back down, gathering more of your arousal until he was pushing the finger in.

Your eyes fluttered shut, the feeling oh so familiar, and yet seemingly foreign all at once. Too long, you decided then. Three months is too long.

Leaning back down, his lips brushed your jawline, the otherwise odd sensation of there being something — someone — inside of you balancing out with the pleasure that came from the comfort of it being him. And of course the delicate circles his thumb had begun to draw on your clit. 

"Did you do this while I was in prison?" he asked you, lips moving against your skin. 

"Touch myself?" 

"Mhm."

"Yeah," you said, voice breathless. "Was never good, though."

"No?" he asked, curling his finger inside of you and tugging a louder moan from your throat. "Why not?"

"Just never felt as nice. Not like you."

"Oh. I'm sorry, angel," he murmured, pulling his lips away so he could look at you again. Though, your eyes were still planted shut. "I'll make up for it then, yeah?"

You feverishly nodded your head, and he laughed. Fulfilling his promise, he sped up the motions of his finger and thumb, your hands grabbing ahold of fistfuls of the sheets, in hopes that it will provide some comfort from the overwhelming feeling of Spencer touching you again. 

"Can I add another finger?" he asked, and though slightly hesitant, you nodded your head. 

He waited a beat longer before fulfilling your request, and there was something obscene about how easily another finger entered you. Though, Spencer thought it was pretty, and your back arching was pretty, and yes, he had missed this and he had missed you and he was biting his tongue from telling you that all over again. 

"Spencer," a delicately breathy whine left your lips when the heel of his palm collided with your clit — thumb long forgotten once he had gotten distracted with thrusting fingers in and out of you. 

"Hm?"

Your eyes fluttered open to meet his, the kindest smile on his face reminding you just how much he adored you, and your heart sporadically beat in your chest. When you didn't say anything else, he quickened his ministrations, eliciting more whines and moans.

"Is two orgasms too much for tonight?" he asked you, the question seemingly innocent regardless of both it's undertones, and what he was currently doing to you. 

In hindsight you should've probably said yes. It most certainly would've hurried things along to something he would enjoy as much as you. However, if Spencer Reid fingering you was a religion, you were an eternally loyal follower, and you would do anything to keep him there for as long as you could. 

So you shook your head, murmuring a quiet, "No. I can do two," and allowing him to fasten his fingers once more. 

Fingers found and massaged that spot inside of you he had probably engrained into his brain, and he was leaning down to swallow the loud moan that followed from the feeling. Practiced motions tore the same sounds from your throat as he repeatedly brushed up against it, until your eyes were forced to squeeze shut once more, and hands that were once seeking solace in the sheets, found his wrist and wrapped around it. 

"I can't move if you're going to keep my arm locked up, angel," he said when your nails dug into his wrist, lips smiling against your skin. 

A few short jerks of his hand convinced you to let go of the death grip you had on him, instead returning them to the mattress.

Then he was doing that motion again, and again, and you were silently praying he would never stop. Although, if your moans were any indication to where you were at — and they were — Spencer wouldn't. 

Your hips bucking told him more than he needed to know, and the absence of his body above you when he lay down on the bed next to you was long forgotten when a splayed hand on your abdomen pushed you back down into the mattress, your heart stuttering at the feeling. 

Gentle whines of his name, and a repeated mantra of 'please, please, please' was the only thing your otherwise dismantled brain could come up with, and Spencer was relishing in the knowledge that he was doing this to you. And though it is something he knows he's done before, it had been far too long since and the reminder was always welcome. 

"I know, sweet girl," he said against you when your eyes came open and searched his desperately, walls fluttering around his fingers indicating just how close you were. 

"Please don't stop."

"I won't," he confirmed, punctuating the promise with his thumb returning to your clit. He had your best interest in mind — you knew that. He now wouldn't stop even if you begged him to. 

Overwhelming seemed too insignificant of a word to describe what you felt like when you came, nerve endings all over your body sparking, instead of just the ones he was stimulating. 

His thumb rubbing circles and his fingers thrusting in and out of you didn't falter until your shaking body had stilled and your strings of moans had diminished, slowly coming to a stop and leaving your body — seemingly — as fast as they had entered. 

The content smile on your face was interrupted with Spencer's hand lifting to your lips, and instinctively you parted them, already knowing exactly what he was after. 

His middle and ring fingers entered your mouth, and your face scrunched up despite yourself as you tasted yourself on them. He laughed at that — of course he did — and pulled them out soon after. 

"You do that every time," he murmured, hair tickling your skin as he placed open mouthed kisses over your shoulder, up towards your neck. 

"It tastes weird," you argued, and his teeth nipping your skin told you he disagreed. Though, he wasn't in the mood to argue, for he didn't say anything else on the matter. 

"Still got it in you for one more?" he asked you, pulling his head back so he could see you once again. 

"Yes."

"Good."

Your eyes watched him even as he rolled back to take his pants off, and the awkward smile he gave you provided the inkling of comfort that there was still the man from three months prior in there. 

"I really missed you, you know?" This time it was you saying it, piercing the air as his hand came down between your thighs to part them. The head of his cock nudged against you, brushing delicately through your folds and eliciting a quiet whimper from your lips. 

"I know," he answered, pressing kisses on your shoulder once more. "Are you okay?"

"Me? Yeah. I'm fine," you confirmed with a nod, confusion crossing your features all up until you learned why he was asking. 

A broken moan, choked and caught in your throat, left you when he painstakingly slowly pushed inside of you. There's not a lot going on inside your mind when he stops, your entire body aflame and equally desperate for more, as you were for him to take a moment here. 

"I love you," he breathed out, the words hurried and encouraging your heart to speed up, and your mind to melt even more. 

"I love you too," you said back, voice just as quiet, gently nudging hips ushering for him to move. 

"Impatient girl," he muttered, but you smiled nonetheless because he did (move). 

His thrusts were slow, and gentle, but you never truly minded how much time he took with you once you two were here. Even more so now, for you were on the same page as him, and you wanted to savour every single moment of this down to the second. 

A whimper left your lips, followed closely by the desperate whisper of his name, and lips that were still resting against your shoulder smiled. 

"I thought about this a lot," he said to you, his hand that was holding your thighs slightly open sliding up to find your clit. "I definitely shouldn't have."

"Why?" You knew why, but the thought of hearing him answer it aloud excited you a little. 

Unfortunately, he knew you better than that. "Don't play coy. You know why, honey."

"You're cruel," you huffed, and he laughed, rolling his hips to meet yours, earning another moan. "Maybe I don't."

"Use that wonderful imagination of yours, then," he answered, rubbing your clit at the same time as he moved his hips once more, effortlessly rendering you unable to respond to him again. 

A teenage boy probably could've lasted longer than the both of you, but you decided to blame it all on your already sensitive nerves from a prior orgasm, and the fact that Spencer Reid had not had you like this for over 2190 hours (not that he was counting).

Whimpers escaped your throat as he kept his hips thrusting into you at an achingly slow pace, while his fingers working on your clit did anything but. It was an aching juxtaposition that left you reeling for more, and Spencer was now the one shutting his eyes so he could hold onto some semblance of composure. 

"Spencer," you pleaded, and it was a quiet moan from behind you that told you he was exactly where you were. 

"I know, honey," he replied, the desperation in his voice jumpstarting your heart. "Need to come, yeah?"

"Mmhm," you nodded your head quickly, breathlessly moaning. "Please."

"You're going to. Don't worry. Don't need to beg, sweet girl."

Commingled moans and obscenely wet noises filled the air, and your hips stuttered as your stomach twisted into knots. 

Chanting his name like a prayer, you meet him wherever your two souls go in that moment, and it's a shuddering feeling as you come at the same time as him. For the first time in forever. 

His hand drops back to your thigh and he massages the muscles there gently, willing himself to stop before he crossed the line of overstimulation — not that you think you'd complain about that. 

There was an emptiness when he pulled out, but then he was kissing you again to make up for it, and you were smiling against his lips as you kissed him back. This time, without the fever. 

"How're you feeling?" he asked you, quietly. 

"Happy," you answered, forcing your heavy eyelids open when he pulled back. "How are you feeling?"

"Also happy," he agreed, and your heart soared. 

"Good."

"You need to go pee," he said, placing another kiss on your cheek, before he leaned his body away entirely. 

"Help?"

Arguably, you could do it yourself. Your limbs were tired, yes, and your mind was melting, but you were coherent enough to brave it alone. 

Thankfully, you didn't have to. 

He carried you to the bathroom, running the bath water after you had silently begged him for it with your eyes (looking between him and the empty bath with wide eyes and a jutted lip worked wonders), and leaving you to pee. 

"Are you getting in with me?" you asked him as wobbly legs akin to a fawn carried you over to the now full and steaming bathtub. 

"Do you want me to?"

Hesitantly, you nodded your head, fidgeting with your fingers in front of you. "But you'd have to take your shirt off. So you don't have to."

He studied your face for a moment longer, before he nodded, and fingers expertly worked at unbuttoning down the shirt. 

"I'm okay now. That's the important thing you have to remember, okay?" his words provided little comfort, but you nodded your head regardless. 

You had a suspicion already of what sight you were going to be met with, but it didn't stop the guilt settling into your chest when the shirt fell to the floor anyways. 

"Spence," you murmured, taking a hesitant step forwards, heart falling to your stomach. 

Bruises littered the skin, some fresh and still purple, others nearly healed and yellowing. But there were so many, and it was then that you were swallowing the rest of him in with your eyes, catching the bandage on his thigh. 

"What is that?" you nodded towards the covered wound, and when your eyes returned to his face again, he was staring at you with an unreadable expression. 

"A lot happened," he answered, quietly, before repeating, "I'm okay now."

You nodded your head, tears stinging your vision for nothing more than your ridiculous amount of empathy. "Can you tell me about it?"

"I will," he promised. "Eventually. Just not now, okay? I haven't processed it all yet."

"Okay," you replied, and his heart shattered at the sight of a tear slipping down your face. 

"Hey," he took ahold of your hand and tugged you closer to him, fingers running through your hair and resting at the base of your scalp. "I promise, honey. I'm not going to disintegrate from a few bruises."

"It isn't just a few," you answered, voice wavering. "There's so many."

"You have a heart too big for your chest," he decided to say instead, leaning down to rest his forehead against yours. "Most of them don't even hurt now. Please believe me when I say I'm okay."

"I'm trying," your voice is thick with a sob caught in your throat. "I think I'm just really tired."

"Yeah," he crooned, agreeing. "Your body's released a lot of prolactin, which encourages sleep. Alongside the endorphins and dopamine that you're crashing from upon seeing this."

Wordlessly, you nodded your head, and he kissed the tip of your nose in an attempt to comfort. 

"Bath, then we can sleep, and we can talk more in the morning," he listed off, and you merely nodded your head once more, sniffling and wiping your eyes. 

"Okay."

your reblogs and replies are always appreciated ♡

[dramaticals]

through the wringer

pairing: theodore nott x ravenclaw reader

summary: theo tries to get your attention by spoiling you with gifts. you pretend not to notice the shift just to mess with him. childhood friends to lovers. / requested by @the-empty-refrigerator.

word count: 1,117

author’s note: i've also posted this on ao3 but as a theo x hermione fic, and so if you're interested in reading that instead: click here. reblogs / comments are always appreciated.

"What's this?" You ask, blinking in confusion at the box of your favourite sweets in his hands.

Theo places the box in front of you before settling into his usual spot at the Ravenclaw table. Your housemates have now made a conscious effort to leave room for him, considering he had no qualms about squeezing his way in to sit beside you. It's as if he didn't have his own assigned table.

"I thought you Ravenclaws could read."

"You're a twat."

"And here I was, doing something nice for you." Theo sighs. Always the flair for the dramatics. "It's Valentine's Day."

You eye him suspiciously before finally accepting the sweets and his reasoning. For as long as you've known him (and you've known him long enough that you couldn't even remember not knowing him), the two of you have never exchanged anything on Valentine's Day.

"Right, well, thanks." You say, offering him a nudge of your shoulder. His cheeks were pink. "I suppose I could share since I didn't get you anything."

Theo looks at you expectantly before he gives you a slow nod. His facial expression is unreadable, but something flashes in his eyes that you couldn't quite decipher. "How generous."

"I got you this."

You look up from your parchment, settling your quill down carefully to not spill ink. The library was nearly empty at this hour, and Madam Pince was an hour and a half away from kicking you out.

"Another present?"

"Are you complaining that I'm spoiling you?"

"I don't reckon a fresh box of the cheapest quills warrants you tossing the word spoiling around."

"It's not my fault these happen to be your favourite to write with."

"Hmm, touché." You sound, accepting the pack of quills. "Will that be all?"

Theo blinks, his eyes darting between his gift and you. He opens his mouth, closes it, and opens it again. Nothing comes out.

You shake your head and begin to pack your things away. You bite back a smile as Theo, ever the conversationalist, is clearly at a loss for words. "Come on, Nott. Walk me back to my common room."

"It seems Theodore's quite fond of you." Luna points out as soon as Theo leaves you with another present. This time, it was a locket charmed to hold as many tiny pictures as you liked. Being quite the sentimental person, this gift was thoughtful and just proved to you that Theo knew you—not that it needed to be proven.

"I know." You say, touching the locket he had secured around your neck. There's only one photo in it currently; a picture of you and Theo, laughing as you attempted to swipe frosting across his nose.

"You seem fond of him."

You nod and smile lightly. "I am."

"He doesn't know."

You shake your head. After Theo secured the locket around you, you questioned what the occasion was, and Theo shrugged, claiming he was just messing around with a spell. He couldn't hold your gaze, and his tells when lying were practically screaming in your face. Theo excused himself quickly when you gave him a very friendly side-hug in thanks, teasingly claiming just how good of a friend he was to you.

"I refuse to tell him until he can be a big boy and use his words."

"Are you going to Hogsmeade this weekend?" Theo asks, cutting through the welcomed silence as the two of you sit near the Black Lake.

"Mhm," you sound noncommittally. "As I do every time we're permitted to go."

"Right," Theo nods. He's fiddling with a loose string on the blanket the two of you are sitting on. "Wanna go with me?"

Your brows lift slightly, and your eyes flicker to his. "Don't I always?"

"I mean, yes."

"Okay," you say slowly. You pause long enough for him to interject. When he doesn't, you sigh and shake your head. "So I'll meet you at our usual meeting spot."

"Okay."

"I can pay for myself, Theo."

Theo shakes his head, making quite a scene of pulling out a few sickles and galleons (the price of two butterbeers and a slice of apple pie did not warrant the number of galleons he placed on the table).

"I'm well aware." Theo says, waving off your attempt at tossing in the amount for your share. "But I'm paying for it."

"Then the next one's on me."

"That's not how this works."

"This?"

"Yes."

"What's 'this' then?"

Theo's jaw clenches, and he exhales a breath. "You know what this is."

You did.

After he met you in front of the Ravenclaw common room instead of your usual meeting spot, purchased a book you were eyeing at Tomes and Scrolls, opened all the doors for you, and pulled out your chair for you at the Three Broomsticks (and then sat beside you rather than in front of you), you had a strong inkling of what this day was. But Theo never explicitly asked you or said anything that would allude to being interested romantically, and so you continued the charade. You played dumb.

Your brows furrow, and you blink in convincing bewilderment. "Do I?"

Theo releases a small groan, his hands covering his eyes in defeat. "Gods, you're impossible."

"I'm confused."

"I like you!" Theo blurts, bringing his hands down so he can meet your gaze. His eyes burn with frustration and longing. His cheeks are red, and he's bouncing his left leg as if he'd just heard he needed to face three boggarts at once. "I've been trying to tell you this whole time. The sweets, the quills, the necklace, the book. I even took you out on this bloody date. How do you not know already?"

It took everything in your power not to crack as he finally voiced his feelings. As you watch him take bated breaths, you can't help but erupt into a fit of laughter.

"Merlin," you giggle, wiping the tears from the corner of your eye. "It took you long enough, you bloody goof."

Theo flushes, and you can't tell if he's red because he's embarrassed and confused or if it's because he's seconds away from breathing himself into hyperventilation. You don't let him get to that point (being the gracious and not at all cruel person that you are), as you grab Theo by his collar and pull him in for a kiss.

Theo tastes of butterscotch and syrup, and his lips are soft and hesitant until they're not. He comes to, his hand moving to cup your jaw as he kisses you back.

You pull away from him, beaming at his shell-shocked and pleased expression. "I've known. I just wanted to hear you say it."

[bunnyswritings]

Saying "I love you" without saying "I love you" — some ways your otp can silently express affection

Forehead kisses, and smiling through the kiss

Resting their forehead on the other’s after a kiss

Tucking strands of loose hair behind their ears, with a thumb caressing their cheek

Interlacing their fingers with the other’s when they least expect it

Sleepy back hugs when the other person is busy whipping up breakfast in the kitchen, catching them by surprise

Just doing their own things in the same space; being so comfortable around the other even in their pyjamas

Holding both their hands while holding their gaze gently, just before leaning in for a kiss

Switching positions with the other when walking down a busy sidewalk because your feel the need to keep the other safe

Being playfully clingy in the mornings when one has an off day and the other has to rush to work

Getting them something from the store when they only mentioned it in passing

When one is overseas for a work trip and everything they see reminds them of the other person (bonus: whenever it happens, they take a picture and drop the other person a text.)

Squeezing their hand reassuringly and holding their hand throughout an intense social situation (eg. a large school reunion which the more introverted person is dreading)

Kissing away their tears

^ and letting the other cry on their shoulder even when their t-shirt gets soaked from their tears

Meeting them where they are, mentally and emotionally; never forcing them to do anything they aren’t comfortable with

Wholeheartedly supporting their dreams, and putting that into action by making concrete plans for it to happen

Dropping the other person an encouraging text before an important interview/event

Surprising the other with flowers just because; no occasion and no reason needed

Picking the other person up from work when it’s getting late, and walking them right to their doorstep after

Good morning and goodnight texts

Making the other person a Spotify playlist with songs that remind them of their relationship and growth

Remembering the littlest of things — activities they like and dislike, favourite brands of stationery, go-to ice cream flavour, choice of popcorn

Writing little notes on post-its and leaving them in random pages of their textbook, so that they will get a little endorphin boost when studying

[loonylupinblack3]

Overprotective

Pairing: Max Verstappen x reader

Warnings: mentions of alcohol, intoxication, suggestions of violence occurring (nothing actually happens just very brief suggestion)

Summary: Going to the club and getting drunk without your overprotective boyfriend is never a good idea

Word count: 1.5k

A/N: posting bc of max's win in china

Max had always been protective of you. Since as long as you can remember Max had acted like your protector, stopping you from doing risky things and helping you when you did them anyway and hurt yourself.

You were childhood best friends, having known each other since you were five and he was six, brought together by a love of karting. As time passed and the two of you grew up, your relationship stayed strong, but changed. Feelings grew between the two of you, though it took until you were 21 before you two did anything about it.

So you were used to Max’s slightly overprotective tendencies. It was second nature to you, as familiar to you as breathing. However, that didn’t mean it didn’t get on your nerves from time to time, like tonight for instance. You were supposed to be going out with your girlfriends to a newly opened club, but Max was having some trouble letting you go.

He raised his eyebrows when he saw you enter the living room from his seat on the couch, eyes roaming your body. You were wearing a cliche club outfit; short black dress, heels, and bangles on your arm. You could see the appreciativeness in Max’s gaze, but also concern.

“You look nice,” he said, putting his phone down.

You smiled and gave a little spin. “Thank you. It’s the dress I got on Tuesday.”

Max stayed silent for a moment, considering what to say. “You look very beautiful, Schatz, don’t get me wrong…. But is that what you’re wearing out?”

“Is there something wrong with it?”

Max hesitated again. “It’s just… it’s not very restaurant friendly.”

You made an ‘o’ shape with your mouth. You had wondered briefly why Max had been so calm about you going clubbing, but you’d brushed it off thinking he just didn’t mind it. Now you knew it was because he didn’t actually know.

“Well, Max, that’s because we’re going clubbing, not to a restaurant,” you say slowly, waiting with baited breath for his reaction.

Max blinked, surprised. “You’re what?”

“We’re going clubbing….”

Max opened his mouth then closed it, clearing his throat. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

You shrugged. “I thought you knew.”

Max raised an eyebrow. “You thought I knew you were going clubbing? Even though I didn’t say anything about it? Or warn you about drinking too much?”

You grimaced. “I know how it sounds but I genuinely didn’t realise you didn’t know.”

Max sighed. “I know, I trust you. I just don’t know if going clubbing is a good idea.”

“But it’s already been decided. And I got dressed up.”

You pouted slightly and Max rolled his eyes. “Don’t give me that look, you know I’m just worried about you.”

“I know, but I’ll be fine. Me and the girls have sorted everything out.”

Max started. “You mean it’s just going to be you girls alone? What about Izzy’s boyfriend Liam? Or Kate’s boyfriend? They’re not going?”

“It’s a girls night,” you reminded him. “No boys allowed.”

“Schatz….” Max warned. “I don’t feel comfortable letting you go to the club alone.”

“I’m not going to be alone-”

“You’ll be with a group of girls, all of you vulnerable and easy to prey on,” Max said sternly. “I’m not trying to be mean, but without a man around you there are certain people who will take that as an opportunity to try and hurt you.”

You sighed. “I know Max, but we’re fine. We know one of the bartenders and he’s promised to keep an eye out for us, plus Liam will be driving us home so we have a ride. Seriously, you don’t need to worry.”

Max frowned, looking at your face for any trace of doubt. “I always worry about you.”

“I know, but I’ll be fine. I promise.”

Max continued thinking before eventually conceding, walking up to you and wrapping you into a tight hug. “Be safe,” he murmured into your ear.

You returned the embrace. “I always am.”

You pulled back, still in Max’s arms, and he tugged down your dress with a slight scowl. “Too short.”

You rolled your eyes and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Goodbye Max.”

“Don’t drink too much,” Max said, “and text me when you’re coming home.”

You nodded your head and hugged him goodbye once more before leaving the apartment and your boyfriend. You knew he was worried, knew he’d probably be worried for the rest of the night and wait up for you, which made you feel guilty. He hadn’t prepared for you to go out clubbing, completely different from a tame meal at some restaurant, and you knew he’d be agonising over it for the rest of the night.

All you could do was answer his texts and make sure he knew you were safe. 

Except things didn’t go to plan.

You arrived at the club and everything was fine. You looked around, taking pictures of the new place, and greeted your bartender friend. You ordered some drinks and stayed by the bar for a bit, talking and catching up, before one of your wilder friends, Lily, suggested shots and then dancing. You weren’t much of a shot person, mostly because you were a lightweight, and you hadn’t planned on getting too drunk tonight but everyone was egging you on, and you didn’t want to be left out so you agreed, the four of you slamming down tequila shots like you did in college.

Then it was off to the dance floor, you, Lily, Kate and Izzy forming your own circle, dancing and laughing with one another. And you were having fun. You were feeling happy, giddy, and the only thing that would make this night better would be to have Max by your side.

You stepped out of the dance circle, moving back to the bar as you took out your phone. Noticing the multiple texts from Max left unanswered you felt a pang of guilt, but it was distant compared to the excitement you felt.

y/n: maxieeeeeeee

maxie❤️: you okay?

y/n: im the bset y/n: i mss yoi y/n: u shoud come tothe club

maxie❤️: are you drunk??

y/n: jst a litttle bit

y/n: lily siad shots

maxie❤️: you did shots? are you okay?

y/n: im grate

y/n: u should cmoe hree

y/n: i wnna party wth yoou

maxie❤️: already on my way

If you were sober, you probably would have picked up on the annoyed/concerned tone Max’s text had, but you were not sober, so you texted him a ‘yaaaaayyyyy’ and turned your phone off, waiting for what you thought was going to be your party ready boyfriend.

Instead, after you’d had another shot with your friends and continued dancing, you found yourself face to face with your concerned and worried boyfriend.

“Maxie!” you slurred, throwing your arms around your boyfriend in a hug. “Come dance with me!”

Max chucked, trying not to show his concern, but his tight hold on your waist gave him away. You pulled back and looked at him. “You are going to dance with me, right?”

Max sighed, manoeuvring you so you were off the dance floor. You were almost too drunk to notice, just clinging onto your boyfriend. “I’m here to take you home.”

“But I don't want to go home. I’m happy here,” you whined like a child.

Max muttered under his breath, “did I or did I not tell you not to drink too much.”

You frowned at his bad attitude. “I just want to dance.”

He shot you a look. “You can dance at home where you're safe, not in a club full of strangers while drunk out of your mind.”

You pouted but your boyfriend had already made his decision, half dragging half carrying you to where he parked his car. You knew better than to fight Max when he was like this, even drunk, so you sat in the passenger seat with your arms crossed, glaring at the road ahead of you while silently cursing Max and his stupid overprotectiveness. 

Max glanced at you as he drove. “I can tell you’re upset with me.”

“I was having fun,” you complained, “and you took me away from it.”

Max sighed. “I’m sorry Schatz, I am, but I wasn’t comfortable letting you stay in a club full of strangers drunk without me.”

You pouted again. “So why didn’t you just stay at the club with me?”

Max laughed a bit. “Because I only enjoy clubs when I’m drunk, and the whole purpose of me being there would be watching you while you’re drunk, not the other way round.”

It made sense even to your drunk brain- sort of -so you dropped the subject, letting Max off the hook. Maybe you’d argue with him in the morning when you were sober and had a better grasp on reality, but as Max parked in your driveway and helped you out of the car, all you wanted to do was curl up with your boyfriend and go to sleep, which is exactly what you did.

Max helped you undress and got as much makeup off your face as he was able to with his limited skill set and then got you into bed, laying down beside you. He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you to his chest where you sighed into it, content.

“I love you,” he murmured into your hair.

Even drunk and half asleep, you still managed to reply, “I love you too.

[saetoru]

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩ KISS IT BETTER — GETO SUGURU.

contents. post hidden inventory arc, healing suguru agenda !!, fluff + established relationships, suguru has nightmares :(, chest kissies for sugu <3, reader lays on top of him, like very cheesy banter my bad

suguru gets nightmares—it’s expected, but it’s not easy. it breaks your heart—very painfully so—every time he jolts up with frantic eyes and labored breaths.

he tries to shake you off and pretend he’s fine the first few times, but by the time it’s happened enough, he resigns himself to letting you handle things, just like you always do.

it’s easier when you handle things—he’s starting to realize that more.

“another one?” you mumble through a yawn, sitting up and hugging him from behind as your cheek rests on his bare back. he grunts, hunched over with his head in his hands.

“‘s okay,” he says quietly, “you can go back to sleep.”

“we both know i’m not doing that, suguru,” you hum, palm rubbing slow circles into his abs. he sighs, melting into your touch eventually as he leans against you, head falling back to lay on your shoulder.

“sorry,” he whispers, “i didn’t wanna wake you.”

“i wish you would,” you hum, tracing his nose delicately as you kiss the side of his head, “i wish you’d let me help, baby.”

“you already help enough,” he mutters—almost bitterly, you note, “i don’t need to make you lose sleep over it.”

“you’d do the same for me,” you say gently, “wouldn’t you?”

“of course,” he says instantly.

sometimes, suguru is too kind for the world. it tramples him and leaves him curled on the floor under its cruelty. sometimes, he gives too much and forgets to take, to ask, and it’s starting to show. it’s starting to pile up and become too much and you think, just for once, someone should give to suguru too—because he deserves it.

“it’s a two way street, y’know,” you smile against his temple, “wake me up next time. please?”

“you really wanna see me at my lowest, huh?” he tries to crack a joke and dodge the question—but you know suguru, and you know what he needs. sometimes before he knows himself, even.

“everyone needs someone in their lowest, baby,” you mumble, “it helps more than you think.”

it’s silent for a bit. it’s like that more often than not with suguru these days—he’s silent, prefers the quiet and tender moments alone with you when you happen to catch them. he doesn’t have the energy to talk, and you don’t make him, and he’s grateful. he’s grateful when your fingers weave into his hair and your lips find his cheek, when you’re content with laying your head on his chest and just being there as he thinks.

you look down as he lays against you, his back to your chest and his body slotted between your legs, resting in your hold. it’s silent—he doesn’t always want to talk, and you don’t make him.

and he’s grateful.

finally, he breaks the silence first. “i felt it all over again,” he mumbles, “the…on my…”

his hand instinctively covers his chest, and you know what he means—he doesn’t have to finish, doesn’t have to say anything else before you press a tender kiss to his head. suguru doesn’t have scars on his chest. shoko’s reverse cursed technique heals well enough that the scars on his chest don’t remain even a little. it’s almost like it never happened—no proof of the x shaped slashes from blades to his chest.

but suguru can still feel his skin slicing sometimes—in fact, he thinks he can never forget it.

“hmm,” you think out loud, “well, there’s only one remedy for this i’m afraid.”

he looks up and raises a brow, staring at you before you crawl from under him, letting him plop down against the pillows as your body turns to hover over his.

“what are you—”

“mwah,” you press a wet kiss to his chest, starting from his collarbone before continuing in a diagonal line down the rest of his sternum. he can’t help but let his lips slowly widen into a smile with each one, letting out a soft chuckle when you tickle the skin slightly. “i read somewhere that kisses are really good for healing,” you murmur.

“ah yes, your doctorate from webmd is really coming in handy,” he teases, grinning when your lips press against his collarbone once more, on the other side this time as you peck along his chest in another diagonal line. it’s silly, a little pointless even—the wounds have long healed and you can’t even be sure you’re kissing where the scars would be, but suguru seems to brighten considerably with every touch of your lips.

it’s enough.

“well, my handsome patient,” you say cheekily, “did that help?”

“oh yes,” he nods dramatically, “i feel better than ever. thank god i have a gorgeous doctor like you.”

“hmm, i am rather gorgeous,” you brighten, giggling as he pulls you down by the wrist to kiss you softly. his hands are on your cheeks, cupping your face delicately as you hum against his mouth. “better?” you ask pulling away, pecking the corner of his mouth.

he nods, wrapping two strong arms around you as you lay over his body, grinning up at you.

“better,” he assures, “they should let you open up your own clinic. you’d put the hospitals out of business.”

“but suguru,” you gasp, “then i would have to kiss random men—surely you can’t let that happen!”

“you’re right,” he plays along, eyes widening in faux concern, “i can’t. i guess i’ll have to be your only patient.”

you smile at him—it’s radiant enough to clear the dark clouds of his shoulders, gentle enough that he feels the hardened parts of him start to go soft just a little. sometimes, suguru gets nightmares—they’re not easy, but you make them feel a lot less impossible.

it’s enough.

“what a waste of my higher education,” you sigh, “but fine. you’ll be the only one i kiss better.”

“i’m so grateful,” he snorts, pulling the blanket over your bodies as he holds you close.

sleep comes easier that night—and every night after.

i’ve decided to give this lil healing sugu series a tag so it’s: #operation: heal suguru! and you can click the tag below on this post to read the earlier drabbles !!

anyway unseen footage from this moment is that i actually sucked his tiddies as i kissed his chest. bc lord knows he just needed his tiddies sucked and he’d have been 100% happier and fine

[ovrour]

-YOU SHOULD BE WITH HER, I CANT COMPETE

✮𝑺𝒀𝑵𝑶𝑷𝑺𝑰𝑺• Matt's been getting multiple DMs from one particular girl. You're worried he'll leave you for her.

✮𝑷𝑨𝑰𝑹𝑰𝑵𝑮• Matt sturniolo x Insecure!gf reader

✮𝑮𝑬𝑵𝑹𝑬• fluff, with a little bit of angst, suggestive smut! established rls

✮𝑮𝑬𝑵𝑹𝑬• Insecure!reader

✮𝑾𝑶𝑹𝑫 𝑪𝑶𝑼𝑵𝑻• 0.8k

𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠...♪𝐒𝐋𝐎𝐖 𝐃𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐁𝐘 𝐉𝐎𝐉𝐈

You were scared.

Scared that Matt would leave you for the prettier girl.

Of course you knew that Matt loved you. You didn't have to question it at all. But, even then you were still scared. Matt treated you like the princess you are but, there was still so much you were scared of. Getting cheated on being the first. In your past relationship, it was extremely toxic. Anything you did it seemed like it was all wrong to your boyfriend. Even when everyone warned you about him, you ignored it because you were too in love with someone who didn't love you enough or not at all.

That was until you met Matt, he loved you like no other. You felt like you meant something, or that you were worth it. Meeting Matt was possibly the best thing that happened to you. You finally felt special to someone after so long. You felt like you didn't have to worry about anything. That was until Matt posted last month.

There's been this girl sliding up on his stories, complimenting him Every time he posted on his story.

Today, you and Matt we’re going to a dinner he planned for your birthday. He bought you a beautiful black long sleeve maxi dress, and a necklace with his Name on it, in gold.

You thought the dress was beautiful but, when you went to put it on it wasn't hugging all the right places, it felt too tight. You wanted to cry, how could he be with someone like you? “Baby, are you ready to go?” Matt walked into the bedroom. He stood there, admiring you. “Yeah, I'm ready.” You responded, catching your tears with your index finger. Hoping Matt wouldn't notice but, knowing him, he was a big observer.

“H-hey baby, what's wrong love?” He walked up to you, turning you around.

“It's nothing really.” Matt knew you were lying, you had this look on your face Everytime you lied about something. Especially your feelings.

Matt walked over and sat you on the bed, sitting next to you. “Baby, talk to me.” “It's not-” “don't lie to me y/n.” Matt never called you by your name unless he was serious, wanting whatever he was saying to get through your head.

“It's just, I hate the way I look. I can't seem to look good in anything anymore.”

Anymore? What did you mean by that? Matt thought you were the most beautiful girl in the world, and he always told you that. Every day, every night. Matt would've thought by now that you thought the same thing. But even if you didn't, he’d be patient with you the whole way through.

“Love, you look beautiful in anything, and everything.” Matt admitted, You may have not believed him but, what he said is true. He truly thought you looked good in absolutely everything.

“No I don't. I mean, have you seen the girl in your DMs? You have to be texting her when I look like this.” You spoke, trying to stop your tears from ruining your makeup.

“Baby, who are you talking about?” Matt asked, confused with who you were talking about.

“That brunette chick. I don't know her name but God, she's so much better looking then me.”

Immediately when you said that, Matt took out his phone and pulled up Instagram. He handed it to you, “Show me and then block her.”

“W-what why?”

“Because if someone is making my girl feel this way. There's no way I'm letting them be in my DMs much longer at all. If anything, you're the only girl I need and want complimenting me every time.” Matt admitted.

He wanted his girl to be happy all the time, and if someone was making you feel this way. He didn't want to know about them at all. Matt just wanted to make his girl happy. You slid through his DMs until you found the girl you were talking about. You held Matt’s phone up to him.

“Her. That's who I'm talking about. I mean she's so gorge-” Before you could finish Matt cut you off.

“Baby, block her. Please.”

You did as he said and blocked her. You sighed, a feeling of pressure coming off your chest.

“Baby, there's no other girl that will ever be as gorgeous as you. You're the prettiest girl I've ever laid my eyes on, Since we met in Boston.” Matt told you, his hand coming up to your thigh.

You smiled, your insecurities slowly washing away. “You promise?"

“I promise.” He stood.

“Now how about we go to dinner? Then after I can show you how beautiful you are.” Matt smirked, picking you up bridal style.

“I'd like that.” you replied looking up at him.

“Don't look at me like that baby.”

“Like what?”

“Like that.”

You felt so loved, and maybe just maybe Matt loved you more than you had thought.

© ovrour

a/n: thank you guys sm for 200+ followers. I genuinely appreciate you guys so much. In honor, I wrote this little blurb. I hope you enjoy it! Love you all.🩷

lots of love, alondra🪷

taglist!!: @bernardsbendystraws @flouvela @sturnthepot @sturniolosarethebest @soupuurr @missmimii @conspiracy-ash @nickgetsmewetter @luvs4matt @luverboychris (if you would like to get added pls lmk!!)