#like they really did that to me in like a few days

[jjjjisun]

My Playmate, My Sister

Hanni X Male Reader | 8566 words

TW: Incest

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I'll be honest, growing up with a sister like mine was no cakewalk. It was abundantly clear that my sister, Hanni, was destined for some form of modeling from the moment she started developing her killer body in her early years. All throughout high school she had the attention and longing gazes of every boy, man and even some women there. As I went through my freshman year, lusting after any bit of female I could grasp, I was constantly teased about my senior sister's looks and how much every one of my friends would love to "bang her."

Now I won't lie and say I didn't notice; after all, I was in the peak of my sexual desires too. However, my thoughts never strayed beyond the occasional hope to see her coming out of the shower or undressing in her room. I did get a peek every once in a while, but it was all innocent and never got out of hand. Luckily for me, Hanni was incredibly wholesome and modest about her looks, having a few lucky boyfriends here and there but largely displaying her beauty in tolerable amounts. So even though I had to stare down or ignore someone for the occasional comment about Hanni's "hot ass and tits," I never felt embarrassed by any of her actions.

I suppose I should probably tell you what she really looks like. Aside from a body that looks to be sculpted from marble, she is about 5'3" weighing just over 100 lbs. She has 24" waist and from inspecting some of her more seductive lacey bras in the laundry is done I know her breasts measured a full 32C which I wanted nothing more than to at least any chance I could get. She has the most gorgeous eyes, more green than hazel, framed by a cute, freckled face and tiny chin. To top it all off she has the perfect shade of blonde hair with dark streaks, which she wears in a variety of styles mostly with long bangs swept across her face.

Unfortunately, in high school I was a shrimpy little kid, never really breaking 130 lbs. until my senior year, when I finally came into my own. So when Hanni brought her usual slough of beautiful friends around, I was always just her little brother to them. It didn't matter to Hanni though, she was a bit nerdy like me and was always willing to play a video game or two or watch a movie late at night. She even got me with a few pretty girls if she knew their older sister or invited me to a party she could maneuver me around. She and I got along well, and even though we didn't interact much at school, we have always been good friends. After she went away to college across the country we separated a bit, but whenever we were both together we were thick as thieves.

But things changed for her early in Hanni's Junior year of college. As I walked through a convenience store on my way to the train home from school, I caught the top of a Playboy on the clearance rack behind the counter.

"I'll be damned if that doesn't look just like Hanni's face," I thought, not even realizing what that would mean if it really was her.

I asked for the copy, and after I showed my 19 year-old driver's license to the cashier and a sideways glance, he handed it to me. The photo on the cover, now many months old, was definitely in Playboy's usual style, airbrushed and photo-shopped to an almost unrecognizable degree, but I was 95% certain it was my sister. She was body-painted in the same colors as her college, Oregon State, and displaying what I had always known to be her fan-fucking-tastic form. I had no time to dwell on it, however, as my friends were all waiting so I shoved the Playboy into my backpack, paid and headed outside. I could barely focus on getting to the train and then home, and I don't think I said a word for the whole ride to my stop 30 minutes away.

I was in shock; "would Hanni really do that? She's always been adventurous but this is totally different," I thought.

When I finally got home I made for my room as fast as I could after a quick catch-up on the day with my Mom. As I pulled out the magazine and that's when I knew for sure, the beauty on the front cover was my sister. I thumbed through the pages and opened up to a her spread, not even thinking of the taboo implications. There she was, for all the world to see, and what a sight it was. She was going by the name Hanni Jean Underwood, obviously not the same as our family name. She was every guy's wet dream, clearly the best looking in the entire magazine, and she was my sister. I had to say it in my head a few times before it really set in, and after a cold shower I pulled out my phone and decided to text my sister.

"Hey Hanni, anything new," I wrote.

A few long minutes later, I received:

Hanni: "Nope, nothing really, I'm coming home Friday, a week early for summer, though!,"

Me: "That's cool, is something going on?"

Hanni: "Just felt a little overwhelmed is all."

Me: "Anything you want to talk about?"

Hanni: "We can catch up when I get home in a few days, okay?"

Me: "Sure, I miss you."

Hanni: "Miss you too!"

Soon enough it was Friday and I was nervous to see my big sister so soon after the recent development. I decided to do a little research online, and I wasn't prepared for what I was about to see. A quick search of her name brought a whole bunch of results, at least three photo shoots - all stemming from the fact that she had apparently been crowned playmate of the month in July. I clicked on each gallery and scanned the page, seeing my sister laid out in a bunch of unbelievably sexy poses in all states of undress. I couldn't help it, the pictures were turning me on. I imagined her laid out on the window-bench in my room, looking at me straight in the eye as she pulled her top off, light glancing off her just like it did in the pictures. In my daze I didn't even hear the sound of my sister clamoring up the stairs, and then standing at my open door, seeing clearly what I had found.

"Okay, now I know what that text was about," she said as I clicked out of the browser at the speed of light. "No point in pretending now, we obviously are going to have to talk about this."

I just stared at her, she was different than the last I saw of her about 8 months before that. She was tan, her hair was better than it had ever looked, and she was in the best shape of her life. Even her clothes were thin and more revealing than ever, and after looking at the pictures on my computer, I realized I would never see her the same again.

"Come here and give me a hug first, I've had a long day of travelling," she said with fatigue thick in her voice.

At 19 years old, I was a full 6'0" and taking good care of my body had left me at 180 lbs. with a decent shot with women. I walked up, towering over her now, and she sank into my arms. Maybe it was what I had just seen on the computer, her clothes, or maybe it was something she was doing on purpose, but every part of her seemed to be pressed against me. I could feel the swell of those amazing breasts pressing against my chest, and my hands around her felt a toned backside most girls dreamed of.

"You've really grown," Hanni said, leaning most of her weight into me as she ran her hands innocently over me.

We hadn't seen much of each other the previous summer as she was working (at Hooter's I later learned) near her school in Oregon. That and the 8 or so months of school had given me plenty of time to grow, gaining an inch or two and a ton of manly muscle, if I didn't say so myself.

She moved away from me and looked into my eyes, saying "I need you to be calm about this, and to please not talk to Mom or Dad about it until I'm ready."

Still slightly aroused, I pulled myself together, "Okay, but you have to tell me all about it at least."

She eagerly agreed. We sat in my room, the loving brother half of me paying attention to her story of how she was found in a little Playboy talent search I had seen on the cover of that fateful magazine and how the feedback on her first photos was so good they decided to make her Playmate of the Month. The other half of me could not stop thinking of what I had seen and how this beautiful specimen in front of me could be seen by anybody in the heart-stopping galleries online, and that she was my sister!

"...so what do you say?" I snapped back in. After a short pause she knew I hadn't heard the question.

"I know this is a lot to handle, but let's just do our best to act normally around each other, okay Oppa?"

I agreed of course, and she hopped out of my room, her sculpted little butt swaying a bit as she turned and shot me a slightly mischievous smile.

All things considered, it was pretty normal around the house for the next few days. Our parents were rarely around, busy with their work or fairly hefty social lives, so I didn't have to deal with blurting out our secret to them. Hanni was out visiting friends during the weekend and I was studying for finals, albeit occasionally distracted by the fact that I had a Playboy Playmate living under the same roof. One night as I studied for a relatively easy exam the next day, Hanni came in and we talked for hours, her in tight white tank top and some tiny shorts, teasing me, maybe not so unintentionally, the entire night. She told me she had dropped out a few months ago because things were going so good with Playboy. Then she began to talk about her love life, something that had never really been off limits with us. It was obviously different now to talk about love and relationships and sex, for my mind kept straying to what a man might do with a girl like my sister in the privacy of their own room.

"I can't relate to any of the guys I am meeting, they all are kind of slimy and just want me because of my photos. I miss being with a guy who might actually care about me, and I miss the sex too," she said, blushing and looking down, missing the wide-eyed look I had on my face.

I told her about some of the girls I had dated, and even noted a hint of bitterness as I named a few girls she apparently didn't approve of. She curled up in my arms as we talked through all of the changes in both our lives and we fell asleep together, laying a comfortable distance apart.

When I awoke I felt like a million dollars, warm and cozy and ready to get up and shower before my test. Slowly waking I realized the coziness came from the gorgeous girl I was now tightly spooning and who had wrapped herself around one each of my arms and legs. It was both loving and arousing, and I realized my hand was gently resting in the middle of her perfect chest. I tried to slowly move out of position but she only latched onto me more, pushing my hand further into her soft, cotton-covered breasts. I knew it was only a matter of minutes before I hardened fully and she would easily be able to feel it. That worry disappeared as she closed the space between us and nestled her tight bottom right over my shaft.

"Mmmmmh, good morning Oppa," she said softly, wiggling a bit as she turned her head to look at me.

It was excruciating to resist the urge to thrust forward between her cheeks. There was that suggestive smile again.

"I haven't felt this relaxed in a long time, I am so glad to finally be back," she whispered.

"How long will you be staying? Are you going to have to leave for any more shoots soon?" I asked quietly, trying not to move or address the fact that I was aroused by my sister.

"Actually, there is talk about making me Playmate of the Year, but I don't think I stack up to the competition. Either way, I have another shoot in a few weeks," Hanni said, turning to face me and finally relieving the pressure on my growing problem.

I paused, appearing deep in thought, "Yeah, I wouldn't count on it." I said sarcastically, making a funny face at her as her mouth dropped, insulted.

In mock anger she rolled on top of me, battering my chest with playful blows as she straddled me, both of us laughing as I grabbed her wrists with one arm and tickled her always sensitive sides with the other. As she twisted to avoid my prying fingers, her hips ground lightly down on my still slightly enlarged member, and I could hardly focus on the tickling for all of the pleasure it was causing me.

The wrestling intensified, both of us breathing hard between laughs and feeling her lithe body against mine. Our play continued, and I rolled on top of her, pinning her to the bed with her hands above her head. Her tank top had ridden up by now, revealing a mouth-watering abdomen and her bottoms were scrunched up towards her waist. She panted beneath me and arched her back, trying to push me off of her and once again forcing herself against my engorged cock. Still holding her down I moved my mouth to her abdomen and blew, making a funny sound like I used to when we were just kids. The subtle scent of her body wash and perfume lingered and she squealed as I rubbed the morning whiskers of facial hair on her smooth skin.

Displaying that she had obviously been working out, she somehow gained leverage over me and flipped back on top, her legs interlocked with mine, straddling my thigh. I could swear I felt faint yet rhythmic thrusts against my leg with her nimble frame squashed against my chest. I could feel her warm breath on my ear and she finally sat up raising her arms in victory as I gave up, exhausted. If I hadn't been so entranced with our arousing battle, I might have noticed her nipples standing proudly and entirely visible through the soft cotton of her tank top.

Our horseplay ended, and as I looked up at her with her abdomen and firm breasts heaving from our tussle, I knew then that she would undoubtedly win Playmate of the Year. It was almost as if she read it on my face, because she gave me a little peck on the lips and hopped off, maintaining the innocence our little slumber party had began with. She had the walk of an angel and she once again smiled at me as she bounced out, swinging around the frame of the door and out of sight. I laid there for a few minutes, trying to pull myself together and shake off any further thoughts of the hottest woman I had ever laid eyes on; it was no easy task.

As I worked through my exam, my thoughts occasionally strayed to Hanni, wondering what was going on and if I was out of my mind for thinking of her as any more than a sister. The exam was as easy as I thought it would be, so I finished and returned home early. When I got back my sister was at the fridge, deep in thought, biting on her finger as she always did. Dressed in tiny jean shorts and an oversized football jersey, tied at the waist and hanging slightly over one shoulder, I thought of she now seemed to know exactly what to wear to complement her figure. I scolded myself inwardly for then thinking it would be better if she wore less.

"Oooh, you scared the shit out of me," she said as she jumped and the jersey fell the rest of the way down her shoulder, revealing the strap of a black bra beneath.

I wanted to ravish her on the kitchen table right then and there as she turned her head and cocked her hips, playing at my desires.

"I was just going to make us both lunch, how did your test go?"

I told her about it as I sat at the table and she prepared lunch, slapping my hand away a few times that I reached for some little morsels.

"I've been taking cooking classes," she told me, "It's funny because I'm finally doing all the things I want to do, maybe I wasn't cut out for college anyway."

"You're nuts Hanni," I fired back, "you have always been the smartest girl I know, and are probably still the only female who can beat me in any game on the Xbox.... you're amazing."

She glowed in response to my comment her striking eyes locking onto mine, "I love you so much Oppa."

We ate and chatted about this and that, and I realized that even though Playboy Playmate status had taken her from a hot young girl to a to-die-for image on the page of a magazine, we still got on as well as ever.

"So I was thinking," she interjected, "I've got to go to this club tonight and shake hands with a bunch of the higher-ups of Playboy here, but I don't really want to go alone. They might be a little weirded out if I brought my brother, but do you think you might want to go as my date?"

"I mean, sure, if you think that's okay," I fired back, excited but nervous.

"Of course it is," said Hanni happily, "I'd just love to have someone to hold on to, it can be kind of intimidating considering the nature of the work."

She told me a little more about the night and what was in store, some dancing, some drinking and of course some more playmates - which I obviously couldn't complain about. The rest of the day went on with little consequence, we watched a movie together and caught up on some work individually.

After I had thrown on a nice button-up and dress pants I went and sat on the couch and waited for Hanni, who was never on time. When the doorbell rang and I hopped up to answer it, I was surprised to see a expensive-looking limousine sitting in the driveway.

"We should be going sir, wouldn't want to keep Hanni's employers waiting." said the driver.

Just then, the click of heels on hardwood alerted us that Hanni was finally ready to go. As I looked up I nearly collapsed, and so did the driver. Hanni wore a red, slightly shimmering dress, cut low between her breasts and high on her thighs. Her cleavage was so perfect I could die happy right there, the dress seeming to be holding on to it for dear life. It clung to her form and I couldn't imagine a more beautiful sight. As she gracefully stepped down the stairs in her simple but sexy black heels, the driver struggled for words.

"Good e-evening Miss Underwood, I am d-d-david, your driver for tonight."

Hanni was a good sport and thanked David as we walked out the door. As I took the first step out the door, Hanni stopped me and whispered in my ear, causing a tingle to run through my body,

"I think he saw something he liked."

Not to be outdone, I turned and whispered back, "He wasn't the only one."

She squeezed my hand and after she got in the limo, David, who was holding the door said, "You are a lucky man." I knew I was.

Hanni sat close to me the whole ride there and her presence was intoxicating. The night pretty much went as Hanni had described, we sipped on drinks while meeting a whole bunch of people who pretty much jumped over me to get to Hanni as she answered their questions. When all of the connections were finally made, Hanni dragged me toward the bar and said

"I need a shot or two, I almost couldn't stand it anymore."

I agreed and we both winced back two shots of something that was way above my budget, apparently free of charge. Then came playmate introductions. Some were scattered about the dance floor, others at various bars about the classy establishment. I recognized some from television but most were gorgeous and unknown to me. I did, however, notice that almost every one of them paled in comparison to Hanni.

Hanni dragged me onto the dance floor among the beauties and we were innocently spinning each other around and sharing the occasional close moment as the alcohol began to work its magic. Then, as if in a dream, Jessica Burciaga, a crush of mine with whom I had spent a little time flirting with earlier grabbed me for a dance. The beating music, dark atmosphere and ever-present buzz of the alcohol had me confident and forward as the tanned, Latina beauty pushed against me. She was beginning to really get into it, grinding her hips against mine in away only a fiery girl like her could. I was in another universe, doing what every guy always dreams of, and with her hands on top of mine I felt every inch of my long-standing playmate crush.

I obviously wasn't paying attention to much else because it took me a while to notice that Hanni, who was nearby, had found a guy and was dancing against him too. I tried to disregard the immediate pang of jealousy I felt, but it would not go away. Jessica was now doing her most seductive dancing, pulling my body into hers, our breath heavy upon each other, but it wasn't enough to keep me from stealing a glance at my sister across the way. Her dress was catching the little bit of light on the floor and her body was unfathomably sexy as she moved to the music. Once more I looked, and I saw on her face the same jealousy I had felt. Our eyes locked. We stared at each other as the music seemed to get quieter, and our dance partners continued their movement around us. I knew she wanted to be dancing with me at that moment, and I, with her. At the end of the song we thanked our partners, and Jessica planted a kiss on my lips, slipping a note into my pocket and whispering for me to call her.

I approached Hanni, who was now glaring at me and leaning on the bar a few feet away.

"Looks like somebody is having a good time," she said with a bit of an attitude, "you can take the limo home with her if you want, I'm sure I can get another ride."

"Hanni, don't be like that," I said with the best puppy dog eyes I could muster, "I got carried away, besides, it looks like you and Mr. Hands over there were getting along just fine by yourselves."

She loosened up a bit at that comment and looked at me sideways, smirking, "alright, just promise me at least one dance before the night is up killer," she requested with a sweet look on her face.

"Hanni," I said with a hint of seriousness in my voice, "I don't want to dance with anyone else tonight if that's okay with you."

Instead of voicing her approval, she stood on her toes and planted a kiss right on my lips, holding my head in her hands as she did. It only lingered a second, but I saw stars as she pulled away and motioned to the bartender to make us two seven-and-sevens. She leaned over the bar a bit, and the bartender ogled her cleavage as I, on the other end was helpless to the view of her backside, the red cloth stretched thin over it. I wondered if she was wearing any underwear, "maybe not," I thought mischievously.

We took our first sips silently as she batted her eyelashes at me, somewhat embarrassed from the kiss.

"I hope that wasn't your best effort out on the dance floor Hanni," I said with a hint of arrogance, "I don't think Playboy would like it if they knew their new protégé danced like she was at a junior high mixer."

Hurt, Hanni quickly shot back, "oh and I suppose you would have me shaking my ass like that little tart you were dancing with?"

"I'm not saying I wouldn't like it..." I trailed off.

Hanni quickly set down her drink and grabbed my hand as if to say, "I'm done talking about it, let's dance."

She dragged me deep into the crowd of people; it's amazing how you feel more private when surrounded by thick swells of human beings. At first she just pushed me back, swaying to herself and running her hands seductively up and down her flowing curves. My head spun as I watched and I couldn't tell if it was the alcohol or my hot older sister moving like she was in front of me. Then she approached me and I wrapped my arms gently around her, careful not to break the rhythmic surging of her body. I began to move with her, running my hands more daringly around her, and I heard a quiet moan into my neck.

She gracefully grabbed my arms and spun herself around, facing away from me and keeping herself enveloped in my grasp. Her style was entirely different from Jessica's, and I couldn't get enough. I savored the feeling of her petite form against mine as she ground he firm ass slowly against me. There was no question why dancing like this had become so popular, her undulations and grinding aroused me more than if she had instead turned and grasped my shaft with her nimble little hands herself. I was no amateur myself, and I moved easily behind her, touching her in all the right places, proud to see many people watching us dance so well together.

We were lost in each other, our heads buzzing from perhaps one too many drinks. I buried my head in her fragrant blonde hair, blowing softly on her neck - a move I had successfully used in the past. We were both so aroused about the fact that nobody knew our true relation that we nearly forgot it ourselves. She leaned back and looked deep into my eyes, my gaze confirming that I felt as strongly as she did. As she turned her head I boldly pressed my lips against hers, tasting a hint of cherry on her lips. I was not entirely surprised when she opened her lips a bit, and her tongue darted out to touch my mine. We broke the kiss about as soon as it started - locking our eyes together as she turned toward me and hugged her close once more.

Then after a few seconds that felt like hours, we ended our pause and were making out like a couple of teenagers. She jumped gracefully into my strong arms and we battled our tongues to see who could display the stronger desire. We were hidden from the outside world by the surging crowd but I could swear our passion caused a good number of couples around us to start engaging in the same activity.

After we were both out of breath and tired of pounding music, we broke our kiss and I said with a witty smile, "what do you think about getting out of here and going back to my place?"

She showed me that beautiful smile of hers and grabbed my hand once again, dragging me outside. I held her in my arms as we waited for the limo, and once inside we made sure the divider was up and she jumped in my lap like there was no time to lose.

Now that we had room to move about our kisses were practiced and still overflowing with desire. She thrust gently against me as I ran my hands up and down her sides, then lightly resting them against the breasts I had so dreamed of seeing. I ran my fingers in circles around her nipples which were protruding stiffly through her red dress. She moaned into my mouth and continued grinding herself against me as she straddled my lap. Not wanting her to do all the work, I gently laid her tiny frame down on the seat and hovered over her.

I teased her, putting my lips just millimeters away from hers and as she snapped up to try and lock hers to mine, I pulled away, concentrating on my hands moving firmly from her legs all the way up to her face. When they reached their destination, I grasped her neck and finally locked lips once again, this time lightly pressing my leg between her thighs. She moaned enthusiastically, barely able to maintain the kiss as I pressed hard and then eased over and over. My fingers moved just below the fabric next to her generous cleavage, wishing my hands were unhindered by the dress. She swelled back against my leg and I continued to massage her body and breasts. Just as she took a deep breath in anticipation of impending orgasm, there was a knock on our tinted window and we realized we had been stopped for some time. I looked down at Hanni and collapsed, both of us laughing at how our arousal had caused us to lose all track of time.

"Not fair," Hanni said, gasping and visibly pissed to be withheld what would have been a fantastic orgasm.

I pulled her up, also unhappy to be leaving the privacy and comfort of the limousine's cabin.

As we left vehicle, the driver said "Goodnight to you Miss Underwood, and to you too sir," giving me a knowing look.

Hanni was none the wiser as she sauntered toward the door, still moping about her suspended pleasure. I thanked the lucky stars that my parents were spending the weekend on a sailboat with friends and I would have the house, and Hanni, all to myself.

When we finally got inside and I shut the door, Hanni pushed my body against it softly with her own.

I looked at her and started in a concerned tone, "Hanni..."

But Hanni put her finger over my lips and stopped me, saying, "I want this, and I know you do too. I am your older sister, I can make my own decisions. Yes, this is technically against the rules, but so is looking at those pictures of me online little brother."

I thought about it for a second, "You've made a few good points."

"Now," she said, a little more demanding than I am used to, "I am going to go upstairs, and if you know what's good for you, I suggest you grab us something to drink, preferably without alcohol, and follow me up in five minutes."

With that, she turned and headed up the stairs without looking back.

I was stunned, and more than a little turned on. My sister had never been so forward in her whole life, but I loved the new her. I grabbed two waters and stood at the counter in the kitchen, taking hold of reality and reveling in how lucky I was. I knew that when I walked up those stairs, I would be spending the night with the most beautiful girl I'd probably ever come across, let alone my sister and a Playboy Playmate unlike any other. With that, I knew that there was no decision to make and my feet took me up the stairs like they had a mind of their own.

Taking a drink, I opened the door and for the second time that night, my sister blew me away. She had been under the covers, but as I opened the door she sat up and proudly showed off her full form. I literally spit out the water I had just drank as I took her in; she giggled, flattered at the reaction. She was wearing a slightly transparent magenta lace bra, which pushed up her ample breasts ever so slightly. Her bottoms were a simple but sexy black cotton that I couldn't wait to rip off.

She motioned to me and said "Come here;"

I walked to the edge of the bed. She crawled on all fours at me like a jungle cat, and equally as graceful. As she came eye to eye with me she took one of the bottles from my hand, opening it and taking a quick drink. She capped it and dropped it nonchalantly to the side, the glistening water still on her lips. She then gave me a slow and sultry kiss, once again holding my head in her hands; I could taste the cool water on her lips.

I placed a knee on the bed and pulled her close to me, once again beginning to slide our tongues against the other. I tried to go as slowly as possible as I laid her down and continued to kiss her deeply, but how could you blame me, with all the skin to explore my hands moved on their own. Up and down they travelled, not wanting to leave an inch of her body unexplored. I kissed her neck as I massaged all over her, and she once again began to pant into my ear, quickly nibbling at it. I couldn't believe how exciting it was to feel her move strongly against me, arching her back and thrusting her hips out to meet mine. My hands cupped her round cheeks and gave them a squeeze; I could feel her smile as we kissed.

My hands finally finished their journey, and one of them moved to the clasp in her bra. I had never been too good at removing a bra, but tonight, I was so hot with luck that I did it in one fluid motion. The fabric loosened, and I slowly walked my fingers along the patterned lace. She loved how much attention I was paying to each part of her; she had thought hard about what to wear for me. I pulled back from her face and looked into her eyes before I knew I'd finally have her naked body before me. The soft glow of the lamp nearby upon her made her all the more beautiful.

"Oppa...I..." she started, but this time it was my turn to quiet her, with a kiss.

She was about to tell me how much she wanted me, how happy I made her, but I already knew, and she let out a breath in relief as I acknowledged it with my kiss.

I ran my hand up one of her arms and placed it above her head, and doing the same with the other I joined them, restraining her harmlessly. With my free hand I gingerly moved her bra up her arms and covered her with my body, pulling it over her head and tossing it to the side. She nipped at my lip and caught me off guard, freeing her hands and allowing her to reach for my shirt and nimbly unbutton it faster than I could have myself. She pushed it down my shoulders and off and I kissed her once again, our partial nakedness adding fervor to our efforts.

I finally wrapped my hands over her breasts, one at a time, playing with it slowly and beginning to breathe heavily myself in arousal. I thumbed her nipples and found that she was extremely sensitive there, because her moans became more frequent into my mouth and neck. We both moved our hips against each other in unison, mimicking the action we both so desired to get to, but I wanted anything but to rush things. She on the other hand, had already begun removing my belt and unbuttoning my pants, and in no time, she was wrapping her legs around my pelvis and impressively removing my pants mostly with her feet.

I could feel her pussy wet against my thigh, and our new proximity caused me to resume the pressure that had been so effective in the limo. I once again had her humping at my leg, becoming wetter with each push. I replaced my thigh with two of my fingers, rubbing softly but surely against her lips and clit. She squealed in pleasure and dug her nails lightly into my back. She was so close to orgasm she could barely stand it, and as I drank her in I couldn't fathom that a girl could be any sexier. My older sister was beneath me, begging for my touch, both of us wanting each other more than we had ever wanted someone before.

As I continued my ministrations, I slipped my fingers beneath the cotton of her panties, finding her mound baby smooth and slick with her desire. Being the consummate teaser that I am, I continued to keep her at the peak of her pleasure without pushing her over. She was frustrated, and she began to grab at my cock through my boxer shorts. She moved her dexterous fingers over it, allowing me to savor the feeling and the cotton between them. Then, just as I had done, she moved her hands underneath my boxers and grabbed me firmly, shuddering occasionally from my own onslaught of her smooth quim. She brushed her fingers up and down over my shaft, lightly touching the tip and rubbing the pre-cum over it.

"Please...please....oh...Oppa," she begged into my ear as I continued to rub against her clit and eased one finger, and then two, slowly into her wet pussy.

In and out I moved them gently, feeling how tight she was, but only enough to keep her bucking her hips at my touch and begging for release.

She once more grasped my cock, not even able to wrap her small hand around it and pushed her other hand against my chest.

"I want you, no... I need you...inside me," she pleaded.

Now I may have been teasing her, but the entire time I could do little more than think about how fantastic if was going to feel to finally be inside my gorgeous playmate sister. I kissed down her neck, not failing to stop at each of her breasts and lick tenderly at each hard nipple, hearing her moan in return. As I continued I kissed at her tight abs, belly-button and then looked up at her, smiling as I pulled her panties down the first few inches with my teeth. She managed a smile through her sighs of passion and I finished taking off her cute little black bottoms the rest of the way with my hands. Me standing at the foot of the bed, she reached out with her toe and grabbed the elastic band of my shorts, pushing it down, showing me what she wanted. I took them off in one fluid motion and when I looked up she was using both hands to make a 'come hither' motion at me.

As I slid up her body, feeling our skin rub lightly against each other, I knew this was it. We stared lustfully and longingly into each other's eyes and I could feel my fully enlarged shaft pressing directly between her soaked folds. We kissed once more, a kiss so deep and meaningful that only a brother and a sister could share, and I gazed upon her stunning features.

"Are you sure this is what you want? I know I do, but I want you to be sure," I said, and I meant it.

She pulled me close and, still panting, spoke a breathy "Yes...fuck me...please."

She reached between us and gently pointed me directly towards her, placing the tip right at her entrance. With one hand, she pulled at my back, encouraging me to move inside of her. I did as instructed, but as if in one last effort to tease, I pushed only a bit of my tip inside of her before pulling it back out. The feeling alone was unbearably good, and I had hardly entered her yet.

This time she demandingly breathed, " Oppa," strongly, "Fuck me."

With that, I began to press into her. We both gasped into each other's necks as I slid in, inch by inch. I stopped briefly for her to adjust to my sizable cock, and pulled out a bit, causing us both to hold our breath at the feeling. Finally I made one final thrust, and our hips touched together as we joined in a passionate kiss. We were both smiling from ear to ear at the sheer bliss we were experiencing. She pawed at me, fidgeting at the intense pleasure I was giving her.

I could have stayed locked together like that forever, but we both began, slowly at first, to rock against each other. We stayed pressed together as my cock slid further and further, in and out of her impossibly tight tunnel. I began to lose focus on the kisses we had been sharing and was unable to do anything but grasp at her hips with one hand and support myself with the other. Her moans came almost every other breath now, a sound so soft and sweet I wished they would never stop.

"Oh...oh...Oppa...Oppa," she gasped into my ear.

"Hanni...Hanni...you feel...so....fucking....good," I whispered back.

We were moving as one, two bodies locked in a passion for each other so strong nothing could not stop us. She then wrapped her legs around me, grabbing at me with her heels and pulling me deeper. I continued to thrust in and out, and she pushed in perfect time back toward me, grinding her clit against me every chance she could. We pushed hard enough each time that I could see her breasts, possibly my favorite feature, bouncing a bit at each stroke, still sizable even as she lay on her back. She began to squeal just a bit now with each breath, a pitch that just barely came through with each breathy moan. Finally, the orgasm I had deprived her of for so long came and she tensed up, grabbing me with impressive strength as I kept moving in and out of her, her pussy pummeling my cock with its contractions as she came for what seemed like minutes. She continued to moisten and I continued to thrust, not allowing or wanting her to come down from her climax. I couldn't believe it, I still had time to go, and though I could probably have made myself climax at any second, my body seemed determined to let me continue my enjoyment of the amazing playmate, my sister, before me.

She finally began to come down from her orgasm, and pulled me tight against her.

"Don't move.. I can't handle it... I need a moment," she managed to say.

I observed her in her post-orgasmic glow and once again had time to marvel at my luck.

"Tell me when," I challenged her.

A few slow, controlled breaths and, as if encouraged by my dare she said with all the strength she could muster "when."

With that, she flipped on top of me as she had done so many times before, without removing herself from our incestuous connection. I could tell that she was still sensitive from her first orgasm but after a few seconds she began to move her toned core in the most seductive motion. She flexed and relaxed her abs, working me in and out of her soaked pussy like a piston around a camshaft. She smiled as she saw my eyes roll back, astounded at her ability. I firmly grasped her body, feeling it move and moving with it, my hands free to do whatever they pleased. I took her breasts in my hands, cupping them and feeling their weight and wonderful softness. She leaned into me, still moving her hips so smoothly up and down on my cock. I thrust up meet her downward movements, us now face to face and joining again in a lustful kiss. I felt myself closer to orgasm but fought it away, I couldn't give in just yet. Hanni on the other hand was not quite close, I could see her face change just a bit with each up and down thrust, and you should have seen it as I moved my thumb to her clit. As I rubbed at her little button she smiled again against my mouth and moaned my name:

"Oppa...fuck....Oppa....oh God."

Encouraged, I scooped her up, moving to the edge of the bed still inside her and could feel us both pulsing now that the thrusts had momentarily stopped. I looked around for something to set her on and found the that padded bay window across from my bed to be the perfect place. I stood up, but always wanting to try it, and her light body the perfect size, we began to fuck standing up. I grasped her ass tightly in my hands and she wrapped her legs around me. We adjusted to the position and for a minute or two were once again lost in our passion as I fucked her, the sexy little minx that she was, as well as I could. Holding her weight distracted me from my own not-so-far-off orgasm and I plunged into her again and again, seeing that she was enjoying it too. The feeling was like no other, having her wrapped securely around me, suspended in the air and still enjoying the heat of her sex sliding up and down my shaft. I savored it, her breasts pushing against my chest so I could feel her teasing nipples and each breath.

"Fuck...fuck...fuck me...Oppa... fuck your sister... Fuck you're big...shit...shit...Ohmygod."

I was so turned on by the dirty mouth she got as I fucked her, she never spoken like that before, and I began to pound her harder. Her moans got louder in approval as I pounded at her and her little hole nearly dripped in enjoyment.

Finally I moved with her still impaled on my cock over to the window, set her down, and looked her right in the eyes as I pulled out just past the tip and then began to thrust back into her slowly. Our looks both shouted that we loved and wanted each other so badly. My cock fit perfectly inside my sister's tight little pussy. I knew my orgasm was coming, and I could tell by the look in her eyes that hers was too. She looked back at me, pleading with me to keep going, and we both watched between us as my cock disappeared inside her again and again. The pleasure was agonizing and we never wanted it to end.

Each stroke brought us closer to our impending climaxes and I looked over her body one final time. She was just barely glistening with sweat and her face was flushed. Her chest, and firm breasts with it was heaving with each moan. She once again pulled me into her with her legs, and used one hand to bring my face to hers. I brushed the hair from her face and grasped her hips with my other hand. We were oblivious to anything else now but the sensation of her wet tunnel grasping at my cock. We alternated between quick, fulfilling strokes to slow and pleasurable ones where we held our breath for an entire thrust.

We ground against each other, feeling our bodies pressed together and our tongues dancing drunk with lust, and we were both seconds away from release. For a few strokes we looked deep into each other's eyes, wanting to see the other pushed over the edge. I pulled out one final time and Hanni's teary eyes begged for that one final advance. As I thrust into her, she screamed aloud, and I nearly blacked out as I began releasing inside of her. Her walls contracted around me, flowing with fluids and I pumped my seed again and again into her, trying to thrust in deeper as I did. She was clutching at any part of me she could with her hands, unable to breathe until her orgasm began to fade. Her legs held me inside of her, and I could think of absolutely nothing as a wave of such intensity washed over me that I went temporarily blind. Hanni quivered again and again as her own orgasm rendered her limp in my arms. Her pussy squeezed the last bit out of me and we both held each other, speechless for who knows how long.

I began to pull myself from her and the tenderness of our lovemaking made it almost impossible to move without both of us trembling at the feeling. As I finally moved completely out of her, we both felt an intense emptiness, which I remedied by quickly laying her down in the window and sliding in behind her. I held her tight as we spooned on the cushions, every sense heightened, and our desires for each other stronger than ever.

We lay like that for a long time, just feeling each other breathe, still unable to form words or thoughts at what had just transpired. All I knew was that I had just had the experience of a lifetime, and I wanted it to last as long as it possibly could. As if reading my mind, Hanni finally managed,

"I can't believe what you just did to me, that was...." I was hanging on her every word, "fucking incredible," she finished.

We both smiled at her phrasing, and I knew she felt the same as me.

"I love you so much Hanni, and that was the best thing that will ever happen to me," I said back, knowing that words really couldn't describe fully how I felt.

Hanni turned to me with a look on her face I didn't understand, "best thing that will ever happen to you, Oppa?" she questioned. "What about next time?"

...to be continued

[whosmariaaa]

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6 !

college! sukuna was indeed head over heels. he couldn’t stop thinking about you. you and your attitude, the way you didn’t take his shit. and maybe the fact that you were playing hard to get.

you were actually not, because you did not want him at all, and you hated his guts more than anything. especially right now.

“are you actually being for real? sukuna, the project is due in a week! and you haven’t done shit! you told me you would!” you told him in irritation. though you were growing more stressed than irritated. this project was a really big part of your grade, and if this wasn’t done right, you were screwed.

he was looking at your face with a lazy grin, though you doubted he was paying attention to anything you were saying.

“uh huh, just chill out, y/n,” sukuna shrugged, unbothered.

“chill out? i’ve been working my ass off for my part of the project, and you haven’t done a single thing!” you rejoined.

he raised an eyebrow. “are you sure? cause i’ve seen your part of the project, and it’s fucking shit—“

SMACK!

heads turned at the loud noise, but you couldn’t possibly care less. “i’m so fucking done with you! get your shit together! you finish your part of the project in two days, or i’m kicking your ass out!” you snapped before storming out of the library.

sukuna held a hand on the cheek that was starting to go a little red from the hit he just took. he wasn’t angry, or irritated. he just watched you go with a slight smirk.

no one ever dared to hurt sukuna and get away with it. that man was menacing, and could get people begging on their knees quickly.

but you? he let you. honestly, you were the most entertainment he was getting since forever. every single little thing you did out of anger, only made his infatuation for you grow. sukuna loved the thrill he got out of you.

two days later, he told you he finished his part of the project. which took a whole lot of weight of your shoulders, because you were starting to grow grey hairs at this rate.

and honestly, something in you told you to trust him. he had phenomenal grades, after all. so, not until a few hours before the deadline did you decide to check his part of the project.

you regretted it. spelling mistakes, grammar errors, nothing on the paper made sense. it was genuinely terrible. and suddenly, you felt as if you were growing grey hairs again. you called sukuna for nth time that hour, but when it send you to voicemail once more, you took it on yourself to fix this crap.

you spend your entire evening and night in complete stress, trying to fix what you could. and you eventually had to send it in, due to the dead line nearing. anxiety was surging through you. but maybe, the professor took mercy on grading projects.

the next few days, you avoided him altogether. no matter what he did or said, you ignored him and kept walking. you were too anxious about the project’s results to even start a fight with him.

and when your grade finally came in, you wanted to die. a 49%. all that hard work, and for what? and on top of that, now you were failing this class too.

after class you confronted him, angrily. but you struggled to conceal how you really felt about all this. you felt like crying, but you kept it in.

“you look pissed. what’s up, baby?” sukuna asked, leaning down condescendingly.

“what the fuck do you think? maybe the 49% on our project? you said you did your part of the project!” you retorted furiously.

he scoffed, “so? i never said i was going to try. i told you to not expect me to give a shit, didn’t i?” he taunted.

sukuna wasn’t taking you seriously at all. he just looked down at you with his stupid, stupid smirk.

you felt your legs go a little wobbly. you felt like shit, actually. and right now, you couldn’t stop the tears either as they welled up in your eyes.

“you’re a piece of fucking shit, sukuna! i hate you so fucking much! fuck you!” you snapped, your voice breaking slightly.

sukuna went silent for a moment at the sight of the tears pooling in your eyes, “shit, baby. i didn’t think you’d care this much,” he replied, though his tone was slightly less mocking.

you couldn’t take it anymore. you wiped your tears and got out of there. you couldn’t deal with all this anymore. and definitely not with him right now.

sukuna just stood there, with a weird feeling bubbling in his stomach at seeing you cry. he was quiet, with his eyebrows furrowed slightly.

“damn. what’cha do? cheat on her?” gojo chimed in, placing his hand on sukuna’s shoulder. but before gojo could react, he slammed him against the wall, and grabbed his collar.

“gojo, i told you to shut the fuck up about her. when the fuck are you going to get a hint? or should i beat the shit out of you first?” he threatened.

he felt himself get pushed off. “calm your ass down,” toji huffed. gojo just scratched his head. he was used to sukuna’s aggression, but not this kind of anger over a girl.

“whatever. watch what the fuck you say, gojo,” he warned firmly. gojo just shot his hands up in defence, “okay, okay. my bad. i won’t start talking about your girl again.”

sukuna’s eye twitched, but he sighed and just let it rest. he still felt like crap about you crying. he didn’t even know why, he made plenty girl cry before. but seeing you cry, made his heart feel heavy.

“fuck is wrong with you?” toji asked, though his tone was calm. sukuna stayed silent for a few moments.

“i fucked up,” he grumbled after a while. toji and gojo exchanged glances, not really sure what to do about all this. sukuna didn’t know either, and that made him feel even more shitty.

──★˙🍓̟!! hi babes!!!! thank you so so so much gor all the love, may God bless u all💞💞 and i’m so sorry i’m very busy with school rn i have a test week so pls forgive me if im a little slow w updates! ill also attempt to do a taglist in part 6, tysm for the patience!

[peanutalergy]

would you write something where Spencer finds reader's lost cat and brings it back to her then they keep in touch + they both develop a little crush on each other?

your writing is wonderful!! <3

-🪲

tags: fluff fluff fluff but there's making out (?) idk if that counts as anything; also lots of cursing lowkey; reader is lowk penelope garcia coded

w/c: 1.8k

a/n: tysm for the req that's an adorable idea unfortunately not such great execution from my part also I wrote this in like an hour I'm so exhausted I should go to sleep but whatever I also don't know if this what you meant anon I'm sorry if it's not 😭 yeah I hate this sorry idk what to say it sucks

MISSING CAT

orange, green eyed, really chubby cat, last seen at ~3:30pm on november 9th. he will answer to garfield or little fucker; most likely the latter, despite that not being his name. he's very clingy, he’ll probably come up to you and start rubbing on your leg like the little freak he is but he's actually just a baby who needs his mom (me) so please call this number if you find him.

reward: $10 and a kiss maybe if you’re nice enough

spencer chuckled when he reached the end of the text and saw the adorable picture of a ginger fat cat. he read over the number on the poster, making sure to keep it stored in a folder at the back of his head along with the image of garfield as he returned to his walk.

not even an hour later, when walking past a not-so-nice smelling trash can, he heard some loud purring coming from one of the boxes surrounding it.

if it were any other day, he would have ignored it, guessing it's just another stray cat, but he was still thinking about garfield and his seemingly interesting owner.

“garfield…?” spencer called out from afar. silence. he took a few steps closer, trying to peek over the box while keeping his distance so as to avoid getting jumped at and attacked. “little… fucker…?” he choked over the nickname.

immediately, the animal that had been in his mind since seeing his picture jumped out of the box, purring louder as he started rubbing on spencer’s legs. he chuckled despite being scared.

garfield wasn't nearly as well kept then as he was in the picture, due to the days he had been on the streets. still chubby, but dirty and with a few patches of dried blood in his fur. spencer tried to move away, seeing his pants getting smudged, but the cat just started following him.

spencer pulled out his phone and started dialing the number seen on the poster, still trying to avoid the animal. after a few rings, you picked up.

“hello?...”

“hi, is this garfield’s, uh… owner?”

“yeah, why? have you found him...?”

“i think i did, yeah.”

“oh my god, wait, actually? is he okay? are you serious?” you mumbled excitedly, sitting up from the position you were comfortably lying in, the show on your tv already forgotten.

“i am serious, yeah. i'm just out on a walk, and, uh… he was in a box near a trash can. he's all dirty and bloody, but he seems okay.”

“my poor baby” you said with a pout “where are you? wait– who are you? who do i owe my son’s life to? my savior, my hero?”

“oh, i’m just… just spencer, really.” he said with an awkward chuckle, giving in and leaning down to caress the cat, who immediately leans into his hands as if he's never been pet before, “spencer reid.”

“mm, cool. anyway, where are you? i’m going to pick him up. tell him mommy’s coming. actually maybe don't. don't refer to me as mommy, please.”

“uh, well, i wouldn't mind dropping him off at your place, if you want.”

“i thought you were on a walk? you're gonna walk all the way to my apartment with that fucker in your arms?”

“yeah, so… yeah, actually. does he… is he fine with being carried?”

“oh, totally, he loves uppies, but it's–”

“sorry, what? uppies??” he cut you off, confusion and disbelief clear in his voice.

“yeah…? uppies… like… when you carry an animal? in your arms?...” a bleach and tone, like???

“oh, okay…”

“yeah, so, he loves uppies. but it's just inconvenient, no? carrying him like that? where even are you, dude? is it not far?”

after you tell him your address, spencer decided it's close enough to walk there with an overweight cat in his arms. however, when he took forty minutes to show up at your door, panting and sweaty, you realized that probably wasn't a good idea.

“jesus, man, you could've just said you can't walk that long with this fucker.” you said as you opened the door, letting him in and taking the cat in your arms, talking to him in that tiny, baby voice. “oh my god, my baby, thank you so much. you poor thing. where were you, sweetheart? i missed you so so so much…”

spencer stood awkwardly in the doorway, wiping away the dirt that the animal left in his shirt, as you kept mumbling to him.

it must have been around another half hour before you set him down on the ground again, but when you did so, you looked at spencer and gasped, “oh, where are my manners? i'm so sorry, i forgot you were there. come in, jesus, come on in.”

he walked in, and after offering him a glass of water, you led him to sit on the couch. settling awkwardly beside you, he said “so, uh… is he alright? hurt..?”

“no, he's okay. i mean, as far as i can tell. not a vet, or anything. i don't think the blood is his… although that doesn't make it any less worrying. i'll give his vet a call. maybe stop by the clinic. yeah, i should probably stop by the clinic, shouldn't i?”

“yeah, probably. does he have all his vaccines?”

“of course.”

“still, there's a chance he would have caught a disease or eaten something that could have been infected. it's always good to make sure.”

“yeah, i know. i’ll give them a call, see if they can see us today.” you said, to which spencer replied with a nod, the two of you falling silent for a moment. “oh, right, the reward.”

you stood up and walked to the table, taking your wallet and a $10 bill from it. “there's no need, really… it's okay. don't worry about it” he argued, shaking his head when you offered him the money.

“no, oh my god, no, this is the least i can do. you walked so far, with that little heavy fucker. please, just take this. actually, you deserve more. i can barely handle to hold him for more than a few minutes, i'm not sure how you–” you look him up and down “–managed to walk with him for so long. just take the money.” you mumble, taking another bill from your wallet and handing it to him.

"no, no, really, it's fine, i swear."

"no, stop it. you're not leaving until you take this money."

he took it with a scoff, seeing how you won't take no for an answer.

“i should give you the other part of the reward, too.” you said with a chuckle as you sat back down beside him.

“what, the kiss?” he stammered, shaking his head as his face goes red and his eyes widened slightly.

“yeah, you want it?” he started stuttering when you said that, so before he got a proper word out, you added “nah, man, i'm just joking. i put that there to be funny, i'd never kiss a stranger like that.”

“oh, yeah, that… that makes sense.” he laughed shyly, nodding.

the cat showed up again, and you went back to talking about him, until spencer decided it's time to go home, which was only around a few hours later.

now, you're not sure when that turned into what it is now, but you're glad it did.

maybe it was the day after that, when you took garfield to the groomers, and sent spencer a picture of him when he got home, wearing the cute tie they always give him.

maybe it was when you started sending every picture you took of garfield to spencer.

or maybe it was when you started talking about things unrelated to the animal.

you're not sure. but now, spencer reid is at your place again, wearing a colorful hat and singing happy birthday to your cat.

of course, he's the only other person at the party. he's the only friend you were certain would show up. and that he did, after rambling about how the cat didn’t even know it was his birthday.

“woo hoo!! happy birthday, baby!” you exclaim when the song is over, taking the cat in your arms and giving him kisses.

“yay, happy birthday, garfield!” he says with a chuckle, petting him.

as soon as he starts getting fussy, though, you put him back down on the ground with a giggle, “yeah, yeah, off you go.”

“i did tell you he doesn't know the date he was born in.”

“well, yeah, but at least he's getting plenty of treats.” you shrug as you throw yourself on the sofa along with spencer, taking off the birthday hats and tossing them to the side. “he knows he's loved.”

“i'm sure he does” he mumbles, smiling at you softly.

“thanks, by the way” you mutter after a beat, turning to him and giving him a nod.

“for what?”

“finding him.”

“that was ages ago, you've thanked me 63 times since then.” he says with a laugh.

“it's not enough, though. he's a stupid little cat, i doubt he would have survived more time out there. you saved his life, probably.”

he nods, staying quiet for another moment.

“y'know, there is one way you could thank me.”

“yeah…?” you already know what he's talking about, he already knows that you already know. the blush in his cheeks that showed up as he said that, his fidgety fingers, the way he started avoiding your gaze.

“the, uhm… the other part of the reward…”

you'd tease him, make him actually say it, if it weren't for how anxious he looks. it physically hurts, how awkward he is.

so instead, you move your hands to his shoulders as you lean in to press your lips to his. for a second, you're scared this isn't what he was talking about. you're wondering if you've just screwed up a friendship, until he moves a shy hand up to your face.

he feels scared, at first. he holds your jaw, fingers gently tangling in your hair as he hesitantly kisses you. but when a moment goes by like that, and you move to sit on his lap, straddling his hips, it's like something within him changes.

he starts kissing you like you're the first and last thing he'll ever touch, his hands roaming down your body as he slides his tongue into your mouth. he bites and sucks at your bottom lip while his arms wrap around your waist, and your own arms go around his neck.

but a man can't live only off of his beloved’s lips. unfortunately, humans do need oxygen. so when he needs to pull away to breathe, he does so with a groan.

panting, you stare at each other with a smile, and pressing one quick peck to his lips, you whisper, “thank you.”

"no, thank you.”

[be4chywritez]

crush on the waitress | luke hughes

luke hughes x fem!reader

Luke has a big fat crush on his waitress, and he thinks he blew his shot, but did he?

recs are open + prompt list

beachy’s masterlist🐚

Luke hadn’t been back in Michigan long—just a few days into the break, and he was already back in the routine with his old teammates. Same group, same effortless banter, like no time had passed at all. Tonight, they had settled on some casual restaurant near campus, the kind of place that felt familiar even if you hadn’t been there a million times.

Luke wasn’t even paying much attention at first, just laughing at something Ethan said, but then he saw you.

You were waiting tables, moving easily from one to the next, balancing plates and conversations like it was second nature. And Luke? Luke got stuck. Mid-sentence, mid-laugh, mid-whatever he was doing before you walked into his line of sight.

He barely even noticed how long he had been looking until Mark leaned over.

"Did you hear anything I just said?"

Luke blinked. "Huh?"

Mark followed his gaze, then smirked. "That’s a no."

Mackie turned, catching on immediately. "Oh, this is good."

Luke felt his face heat up and quickly looked back at his menu, pretending to be extremely interested in the list of burgers. "I wasn’t even—"

"Yeah, you were," Ethan cut in. "You’re still doing it."

Luke sighed, but he couldn’t exactly deny it. You were just… effortlessly pretty. Not in some intimidating, untouchable way, but in a way that made it impossible not to look twice. Or, in his case, five or six times.

Before anyone could make another comment, you walked up to the table, pen and order pad in hand.

"Hey, guys! Welcome in," you said, offering a polite smile. "Can I get you started with something to drink?"

Luke knew he should just answer like a normal person, but instead, he sat there like an idiot while the rest of the table casually rattled off their orders. Then you looked at him, expectant, and he suddenly forgot how to function.

"Uh… water’s good."

You nodded, jotting it down. "Alright, I’ll be back in a minute with those."

You lingered just half a second longer, eyes narrowing slightly. "You look really familiar."

Luke knew that look. The same one people gave him when they were trying to place him but couldn’t quite connect the dots. He should probably just help you out—mention his name, drop something about hockey. But before he could say anything, you gave a small shrug.

"Maybe you just have one of those faces."

Luke opened his mouth to respond, but Ethan got there first. "Or maybe—"

"Don’t," Luke cut in, shooting him a look.

Ethan held up his hands in mock innocence. "I wasn’t gonna say anything."

"You absolutely were," Mackie said, shaking his head.

You glanced between them, amused but still a little confused. "Alright, well, let me know if it comes to you."

And with that, you walked off toward another table, leaving Luke to glare as his friends immediately turned on him.

"You’re useless," Mark said, shaking his head.

"Yeah, that was brutal," Mackie added. "Not even a ‘what’s your name?’ or a ‘do you go to Michigan?’ Nothing."

Luke just groaned again, dragging a hand down his face. "Can we please not?"

Ethan grinned. "Oh, no. We are absolutely talking about this."

Luke tried to shake it off, really, he did. But it was impossible not to look when you were right there, moving through the restaurant like you’d been doing this for years. There was something about the way you worked—effortless but focused, quick but never rushed. He caught himself watching the way you tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear, how you leaned in slightly when customers spoke, like you actually cared about their orders and weren’t just going through the motions.

It was oddly attractive. Not just the way you looked, but the way you carried yourself. Like you were completely in your element.

"Luke," Mark said, dragging out his name like this wasn’t the third time he’d had to get his attention.

Luke tore his eyes away, but it was too late. Ethan followed his gaze across the restaurant and immediately grinned.

"Alright, this is getting embarrassing," Ethan said. "At least pretend to look at your phone or something."

Luke ignored him, reaching for his drink. He wasn’t about to let them get under his skin.

And then you walked over to the bar, leaning on the counter as you talked to the bartender. Luke couldn’t hear what you were saying, but you were smiling, laughing at something he said.

And just like that, Luke hated him. Not in a serious way—he wasn’t delusional. He had no claim here. But still.

"Ohhh," Mackie hummed, noticing immediately. "Looks like you’ve got some competition, Hughesy."

Luke rolled his eyes. "Shut up."

Mark leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. "I don’t know, man. He’s got the upper hand. He’s already back there, cracking jokes, getting smiles."

Ethan nodded in fake sympathy. "Tough break."

Luke took another sip of his drink, refusing to give them the satisfaction of a reaction.

"Damn," Mackie added, shaking his head. "You think she writes her number on his arm with a Sharpie at the end of the night? Or just hands it over on a napkin?"

"You guys are idiots," Luke muttered, but he couldn’t help glancing back over toward the bar. You were still talking to the bartender, your expression relaxed, comfortable.

Yeah, Luke definitely needed to get his act together.

By the time you came back with their drinks, the restaurant had gotten noticeably busier. You barely had time to set them down before you were already moving toward another table, greeting new customers and juggling orders.

Luke didn’t even pretend not to watch you. It wasn’t just that you were pretty—though, yeah, that was a big part of it—but there was something about the way you handled everything so smoothly. Balancing plates, dodging customers, laughing at something an older couple said like you actually enjoyed being here.

"You’re still staring," Mark muttered, smirking over the rim of his glass.

Luke didn’t even try to deny it this time. "Shut up."

"Great comeback," Mackie said. "Really showed us."

Luke ignored them, glancing toward the bar again. The bartender was helping another server, barely paying you any attention now. Not that it mattered. Luke knew his friends were just trying to get under his skin, and he wasn’t going to give them the satisfaction.

Eventually, the restaurant started clearing out. Tables emptied one by one.

You came by, collecting empty glasses from the table, clearly in less of a rush now that the dinner rush had died down.

"Still hanging in there?" you asked, stacking the glasses with practiced ease.

"Trying," Ethan said easily. "You must be wiped."

You shrugged. "Not too bad. Closing shifts get slow toward the end."

Mackie leaned forward slightly. "You do this full-time or just while you're in school?"

"Just while I’m in school," you said, setting down a fresh napkin that someone had knocked onto the floor. "I’m in law school at Michigan."

Luke, who had been quietly sipping his drink, blinked.

Law school.

"Jesus," Ethan said, eyebrows raising. "I barely made it through undergrad."

"Yeah, I think you barely made it in, too," Mark added, smirking.

"Okay, rude," Ethan shot back before turning back to you. "That’s impressive, though."

"Thanks," you said, smiling. "What about you guys? You all go to Michigan, right?"

"Yeah, we did," Mackie said. "Most of us played hockey here, but now we’re scattered in a few different places. Luke’s in Jersey, I’m in Montreal, Ethan’s—well, Ethan’s still here."

"Hey," Ethan said, feigning offense.

You laughed, glancing toward Luke, who had been suspiciously quiet. "What about you?"

Luke, who had been very much not listening, snapped his head up.

"Huh?"

The table went dead silent for half a second before Mark burst out laughing.

"Oh my God," Mackie said, shaking his head. "This is embarrassing for you."

Ethan grinned. "Didn’t hear a single thing she said, did you?"

Luke’s face burned as he scrambled to figure out what he had missed. You just raised an eyebrow, clearly amused.

"I was just asking if you needed a refill or anything," you said, biting back a smile.

Luke groaned, dragging a hand down his face. "I’m good, thanks."

Mackie sighed dramatically. "Man is down bad."

As the night stretched on, the restaurant emptied even more. A couple lingered in the corner, finishing off their drinks, and one guy sat at the bar scrolling through his phone, but aside from that, it was just you and Luke’s table.

You grabbed their check from the counter and made your way back over. "Alright, guys. I’ll leave this with you," you said, setting the little black folder in the middle of the table. "No rush."

"Appreciate it," Mark said, reaching for it first.

Before he could open it, Mackie leaned over, lowering his voice just enough to be mostly subtle. "Alright, Hughes. This is your shot."

Luke, who had been so close to getting through the night without another round of this, exhaled through his nose. "What?"

"Leave your number," Ethan said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Luke blinked. "No."

Mark smirked. "That was fast."

"Come on, man," Mackie nudged him. "You’ve been making heart eyes at her all night."

Luke shot him a look. "I have not."

"You definitely have," Ethan said. "At least a little."

"Yeah, at this point, it’s kind of sad if you don’t," Mark added.

Luke shook his head. "Not happening."

Mackie sighed dramatically. "What a waste."

"You guys are the worst," Luke muttered, standing up and grabbing his jacket.

They all threw down cash for the bill, Mark tossing in a tip before closing the folder. You came by a second later, grabbing it off the table with a quick, "Thanks, guys! Have a good night."

"Yeah, you too," Ethan said pointedly, dragging out the words and raising his eyebrows at Luke as they all walked toward the door.

Luke ignored him.

They stepped out into the cool night air, making it about halfway down the sidewalk before Luke suddenly stopped short.

Mackie turned. "Oh my God, are you actually going back in there?"

Luke groaned. "Shut up."

"You are!" Ethan grinned. "Oh, this is incredible."

Luke didn’t even give them the satisfaction of a response before turning and jogging back inside.

You were behind the counter, flipping through the checks and tucking them away when you looked up, surprised to see him. "Hey, everything okay?"

"Yeah," Luke said quickly. "Just—uh—" He held out a few extra bills, more than enough to bump up the tip Mark had left.

You glanced down, brows raising slightly. "You didn’t have to do that."

"I know," Luke said, rubbing the back of his neck. "I just—"

You smiled, taking the cash and slipping it into the folder. "Thanks, Luke."

He nodded, standing there for half a second longer, like maybe he should say something else, but—nope. His brain had officially shut down.

So instead, he just gave you a small, sheepish smile before heading back toward the door, where his very entertained friends were watching through the window.

Mackie clapped him on the back the second he stepped outside. "You are so painfully awkward, man."

Luke groaned. "Can we go now?"

Ethan grinned. "Oh, don’t worry. We got everything we needed."

A few days passed, and Luke tried not to think about you.

He was back in Michigan, hanging out with his brothers and some old friends, doing what he always did during breaks—skating, goofing off, grabbing food with the guys. But every so often, his mind drifted back to the restaurant, to you.

Not in some overly dramatic, can’t-think-about-anything-else kind of way. More like a huh, I wonder if she’s working tonight kind of way.

And then, before he could stop himself, he was already thinking of excuses.

At first, he convinced himself he just wanted food. But then he remembered he had already eaten. Then he thought, Well, maybe just a drink, but that felt dumb, too. Eventually, he just sighed, stood up, and grabbed his keys.

"Where you going?" Jack asked, glancing up from the couch.

Luke hesitated for half a second before shrugging. "Just out for a bit."

Quinn, who had known him long enough to recognize when he was being weird, narrowed his eyes slightly. "Out where?"

Luke sighed. "Just a restaurant."

Jack smirked. "Are we supposed to pretend we don’t know which one?"

Luke rolled his eyes. "I hate you guys."

"You like her," Jack sing-songed as Luke walked out the door.

"I don’t," Luke called back, but Jack’s laughter followed him all the way to his car.

—

Luke pulled into the parking lot, telling himself it wasn’t weird. People went to restaurants alone all the time. He wasn’t being weird.

(He was absolutely being weird.)

Still, he walked inside, trying to act casual as he approached the host stand.

"Table for one?" the host asked, grabbing a menu.

"Uh, yeah," Luke said, rubbing the back of his neck.

He was being led toward a small table when he suddenly heard, "Luke?"

He turned, and there you were, standing near the bar with your bag slung over your shoulder, coat draped over your arm.

You were clocking out.

Luke, who had not planned on seeing you this soon, completely blanked for a second. "Oh. Hey."

Your lips quirked up in a small smile. "You here alone?"

Luke glanced at the empty table he was being led to, then back at you. "Uh. Yeah."

Your smile widened, clearly amused. "Bold move."

He let out a breathy laugh, shaking his head. "Yeah, I—uh—I was just, you know… hungry."

"Right," you said, nodding, the teasing in your tone impossible to miss.

There was a beat of silence before Luke, like the absolute dork he was, blurted out, "You wanna sit?"

You blinked, like maybe you weren’t expecting him to ask, and Luke was this close to taking it back when you smiled. "Sure."

He tried not to look too relieved as he sat down, watching as you pulled out the chair across from him.

"So," you said, setting your bag down. "Big fan of solo dining?"

Luke exhaled a small laugh. "Huge fan."

You grinned. "Sure, Hughes."

There was a moment of comfortable silence before you asked, "So, what’s your deal?"

Luke raised an eyebrow. "My deal?"

"Yeah," you said, sipping your water. "I know you play hockey, but, like, what else? What kind of person voluntarily sits alone at a restaurant instead of just ordering takeout?"

Luke shook his head, laughing under his breath. "I don’t know. I guess I just like being out sometimes."

You hummed, considering. "Interesting. So, are you the type that just, like, people-watches and makes up stories about strangers?"

"Maybe," Luke admitted. "Are you?"

"Obviously," you said. "It’s the best part of working here. So many weird people."

Luke smirked. "Am I one of them?"

You tilted your head, pretending to think. "Hmm. You did come in alone after a group of guys bullied you into leaving your number and still didn’t leave it."

Luke groaned, dragging a hand down his face. "You heard that?"

"Oh, I heard all of that," you said, grinning. "Very entertaining stuff."

Luke just shook his head, biting back a smile. "Great. Love that for me."

"You should," you said, leaning forward slightly. "It was kind of cute."

Luke blinked. "Wait. Really?"

You laughed. "Yeah, Hughes. Really."

Luke wasn’t sure how he got here, sitting across from you, somehow making conversation despite definitely being an idiot earlier that week. But he wasn’t about to question it.

You, on the other hand, looked completely at ease. Like sitting with him was the most normal thing in the world. Like maybe you didn’t think he was a total dork, despite the overwhelming evidence.

"So, law school," Luke said, fiddling with the edge of his napkin. "That’s intense."

"It is," you admitted. "But I like it. Keeps me busy."

"Busy enough that you don’t get to go out much?" he asked.

You smiled knowingly. "Why? You gonna tell me I should get out more?"

Luke huffed a small laugh. "I mean, I’m here alone, so I don’t think I can judge."

"True," you said. "But, yeah. I don’t get out much. Between classes, studying, and working, I don’t really have a ton of free time."

Luke nodded, thinking. "That’s kinda cool, though."

You raised an eyebrow. "Working all the time?"

"No," he said quickly, shaking his head. "Just—being that focused on something. Knowing exactly what you wanna do."

You tilted your head slightly, studying him. "You don’t?"

Luke exhaled, leaning back in his chair. "I mean, I do. Hockey’s kind of my whole life, but I don’t know. Sometimes I think about what’s next and it feels—" He paused, searching for the right word.

"Big?" you offered.

Luke nodded. "Yeah. Big."

You tapped your fingers lightly against the table. "I get that. When I first started law school, it felt like I was standing at the bottom of a mountain and had no idea how I was supposed to get to the top."

Luke met your eyes. "So what did you do?"

You shrugged. "Just kept climbing. One day at a time."

Something about the way you said it—so simple, so sure—made Luke feel lighter.

He liked this. Sitting here, just talking. No pressure, no expectations. Just… getting to know you.

And apparently, you didn’t mind getting to know him either, because the conversation kept flowing. You asked about his brothers, his favorite places to travel, how he got into hockey in the first place. He asked about your favorite classes, your dream job, whether or not you actually liked working at the restaurant.

The restaurant itself started slowing down even more, the last few customers trickling out. The staff wiped down tables, stacked chairs, getting ready to close.

You glanced at your phone and sighed. "I should probably head out soon."

Luke nodded, even though he wasn’t ready for the night to end. "Yeah, of course."

You grabbed your bag and stood, hesitating for a second before looking at him again. "So, Luke?"

"Yeah?"

You smiled, amused by how quickly he straightened up, suddenly on full alert. "You gonna keep coming here alone, or are you finally gonna ask for my number?"

Luke blinked, processing, before his brain fully caught up. "Oh. Right. Uh, yeah, I should—yeah." He fumbled for his phone, nearly knocking over his water glass in the process.

You laughed, shaking your head as you reached out and took his phone from him. "Relax, Hughes. You act like I just asked you to propose."

Luke groaned, dragging a hand down his face. "This is so embarrassing."

"Not at all," you said, smirking as you typed your number into his phone. "Very endearing, actually."

Luke exhaled a small laugh, shaking his head. "Glad I can at least be entertaining."

You handed his phone back and took a step toward the door, but then—before you could think twice about it—you turned back around.

Luke barely had a second to register what was happening before you leaned in, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. Except—he moved just slightly at the last second, and instead of landing on his cheek, your lips brushed the corner of his instead.

Luke froze.

Like, full-body shutdown.

And if he was a little pink before? Oh, he was definitely red now.

You pulled back, biting back a grin at the completely stunned look on his face. "See you around, Hughes."

Then, like you hadn’t just short-circuited his entire brain, you turned and walked out, leaving Luke sitting there—phone still in his hand, heart fully in his throat.

For a solid five seconds, he just stared at the door, trying to process. Then, he blinked down at his phone, your name and number still on the screen.

Jack was never gonna let him live this down.

But honestly?

Totally worth it.

[cherrygirlfriend]

touchy subject II

pairing: reader x exfiancé!rafe synopsis: seeing your ex-fiancé after four years. warnings: heavy angst. some fluff. miscarriage/stillbirth. vehicular accident. wc: 2k part 2 of touchy subject. originally posted 11/24/2024

part I & part III

you could feel your heartbeat in your throat, raw with unshed tears, the vision of your ex-fiancé with another woman blurred by nothing but the tears brimming at the edges of your vision, so different from the ones that ran down your cheeks the day you'd said yes to him.

"of course i'll marry you." you pulled rafe to stand up, your arms around him before you could even think about what you were doing, rafe letting out a sigh of relief. "wait, wait, i gotta ask you something." you rushed out, pulling away from the hug, his hands still staying on your waist.

"what is it?"

"is this just because i'm pregnant?" you ask, rafe's brows furrowing in confusion, yet you left him no time to respond, "it's just- i want to marry you, but i don't want you to feel like you have to ask me just because i'm pregnant, and if you want to wait until the baby's-"

you could feel how tired rafe was getting of your rant by the intensity of his lips on yours, using it to interrupt you, his fingers sliding under your jaw to help hold it up to meet his; and just like always, he didn't need to say one word for you to understand what he was communicating to you.

the moment his eyes found yours, it felt as if all the air was punched out of your lungs, like the entire planet just stopped spinning. it didn't matter that the jewelry store's display was separating you; it felt like the first time he looked into your eyes and told you he loved you.

you wanted to run, to make sure you wouldn't have to face him, to have to hear what his voice sounded when you'd already managed to forget how it was to hear it in person, but it was like your feet had rooted to the ground within the few seconds that he spotted you.

and you begged to whatever entity that once you saw him approach the exit to the jewelry store, the other woman long forgotten, that your fight-or-flight instinct would kick in, but luck was never really on your side, because there he stood, his face the same as the last time you saw him, with a few lines added here and there, and a part of you couldn't help but ache at the thought of having missed the moment they appeared.

you looked up at him, into the same eyes you'd once imagined your daughter would have, the thought making the bout of nausea in your throat even worse. a part of you wanted to congratulate him, to tell you that you were happy for him, but it felt like the words were choking you, like they were burning in your throat. but the choice to even say something was taken from you, when you heard the bell above the door to the jewelry store let out a cheery ring.

"rafe…?" the red-haired woman called out, her brows furrowed in question, and the moment your ex turned around to face her, you took the opportunity to turn the other way, begging that your feet would take you away before you threw up on the spot.

"i saw him yesterday."

"it was the first time you saw him in person since you left, correct?"

"yes. i sometimes checked up on his social media, but seeing him like this... so close to me i could touch him... it was pretty jarring. it felt like no time had passed, but also like i hadn't seen him in decades."

"and how did he look?"

"handsome." you chuckled softly, your hand going to fiddle with the locket around your neck, sliding it up and down the golden chain, avoiding looking at the zoom meeting displayed on the laptop screen. "he looked just like he looked with me. he looked happy."

"happy anniversary, rafe." you smiled softly as you pushed the gift box at him, your fiancé letting out a small tut.

"you know you didn't have to get me anything, right? you're enough for me already. both of you are."

"yeah, yeah, stop being all cheesy and chivalrous and open it already." you urged, watching as he lifted the lid of the gift box, his eyes widening as he looked down at the present, but before he could say anything, you stopped him, "look at the back of it!"

rafe rolled his eyes, picking up the steel watch from the box, and you could see his gaze soften the moment his eyes spotted the engraving on the back of the watch, the edges of his lips almost automatically twisting up at the words 'evelyn cameron'.

"is it bad that it makes me feel bitter?" you asked, chewing at the inside of your cheek, "that it's been four years, and i haven't been able to move on, but he has? that he's managed to be happy, but i haven't? that i don't know if i ever will?"

"the loss of a child..."

you couldn't help but tune out the words of your therapist like they were nothing but background noise, not knowing if it would be worse if she tried justifying your anger or if she tried to get you to understand why rafe had managed to move on, your eyes instead focusing on the heart-shaped locket you'd opened, the faces of the couple staring right at you.

"rafe, where are we?" you laughed softly, your feet hurting from the heels you were starting to regret wearing, the blonde having parked his car in front of a random house.

"you didn't think i wouldn't get you an anniversary present, did you?" when you didn't immediately answer, he pressed his hand to his chest in mock offense, shaking his head, "come on. lemme show you."

the two of you got out of the car, your heels clacking against the stone pathway leading to the house, rafe's muscular arm keeping you close to him, helping you walk.

when you got to the door, he let go of you, and you watched as he took out a set of keys without saying anything, twisting them in the lock and pushing open the door, looking to you enthusiastically, extending his hand to you.

the moment you stepped over the threshold, you were enveloped by warmth, rafe flicking on the light next to the entryway before turning to you as your eyes got used to the light, sliding his hands onto your waist, pulling you as close to him as the growing child allowed.

you looked into his eyes, yours filled with confusion while his were filled with nothing but sincerity, his thumb stroking your waist. "rafe, what's this?"

"it's our home." he said, bringing his hand to your bump, "i know it's not much, but it's got enough room for our family."

"rafe, this is-"

"this is my anniversary present for you. i won't take 'no' for an answer." he brushed a strand of hair away from your cheek, tugging it behind your ear, "i want us to build our own home. our own life."

you kicked the radiator in frustration; it seemed like no matter what, the place wouldn't warm up. you'd called a maintenance guy, but they told you that it'd take at least a week for them to get someone there, and in the middle of winter, your only option was to light the fireplace in the middle of the living room while you waited for your mom to arrive with a portable radiator she told you she'd borrow you.

you sat in front of the blazing fire, your fingers fiddling with the frayed edges of the worn-out ultrasound picture you'd looked at a million times, your voice coming out weak from the sobs you were holding in your throat.

"hi, evie." you said softly, looking to the small urn next to you, engraved with the name of your daughter as well as today's date, only five years before. "happy... happy birthday."

"hi, baby." rafe's voice called out from the speakerphone of your car, the windshield wipers wiping away some of the rain falling down on you as you drove through the dark streets lit only by the yellow streetlights above, "are you almost home?"

"i am." you chuckled softly, "seeing my mom was so nice, even though she kept being all cheesy about how big i'd gotten. i swear, she almost cried."

"come on, she's gonna meet her grandkid in a month, of course she's gonna be all cheesy. if my dad had a paternal bone in his body, i'm sure he'd be ecstatic."

"yeah, well, you're not the one whose stomach is constantly getting pawed by people." you let out a snort, looking out into the road, "listen, i'm gonna drop by the store cause little evie's craving chocolate, do we need anything?"

"nah, just need you two home as soon as possible."

"aye aye, captain. see you soon, baby." you laughed, hearing the noise that signaled that the call had been ended, eager to get home and off your feet.

but before you could even realize what was happening, you were faced with a second pair of headlights that was approaching you, another car lit up by your own yellow headlights. and you swerved.

maybe it's a part of the so-called mother's instinct to blame ourselves when something happens to our child. no matter how many people told you that it wasn't your fault, that there was nothing you could've done, every bone, every cell in your body couldn't help but beat yourself up over what happened.

rafe ran down the hospital hallway, the smell of disinfectant mixed with the feeling of his heartbeat in his ears making him feel nauseous, the man sure that it was beating 200/bpm, but finally, when he reached the hospital room the reception had guided him to, a sense of relief took over him.

a nurse walked out of the room, startled by the man, her eyes widening at the obvious sense of urgency he was displaying, "can i help you?" she asked.

"no, no, i'm just here to see my fiancé." rafe said, his hand going for the door, only to be blocked by the nurse.

"i'm sorry, but the patient has told us that she doesn't want any visitors."

"what?" rafe let out a dry, humorless laugh, his brows furrowed, "you have to let me see her, that's my fiancé. that's- that's the mother of my child."

"i'm sorry, but the patient-"

"hey!" rafe pounded the palm of his hand on the door, the hospital bed visible from the rectangle of glass on the door, the man able to see your mother hunched over your bed, holding you. "let me-"

"sir, if you don't calm down, i'm going to have to call the guards and they'll remove you from the premises."

"that's my fiancé!" rafe shouted as the nurse pushed him further from the door, "i have to go see her! you have to let me see her! just tell her that i'm here, she'll want-"

the door to your hospital room swung open, rafe meeting the crestfallen eyes of your mother, her lips pulled into a straight line. "rafe, she doesn't want to see you."

when you heard the doorbell ring, you wiped away the tears that had ran down your cheeks; you didn't want to make it obvious to your mother that you'd spent the last fifteen minutes crying, and even if she could tell by the redness of your eyes, you knew she wouldn't mention it.

you pushed yourself off the ground, placing the small urn and the ultrasound picture on top of the fireplace as you straightened out your sweater, your feet cold against the hardwood floor as you walked to the front door.

but when you pulled it open expecting to see your mother, it felt like all the air had been knocked out of your lungs, like your heartbeat shot through the roof just from the sight of his downcast eyes.

"rafe."

[marks-bby]

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀GOOD PUTHY

mark’s first time eating the box.

mark used to watch porn a lot before he became invincible. he had a lot of time waiting for his powers to come so what else then to whack his junk? but he loved watching men go down on their girlfriends. something about a man pleasure his girl to the brink of tears got his dick hard.

then he bagged you. he really didn’t need porn anymore. he and you snuck around here and there, having quickies and birthday sex.

and it was his today.

“ so what now, birthday boy ? ” — you stand in front of his bed, the same bed he laid on, staring up at you. your panties slide off your fingers, pooling on his bedroom floor.

“ i’ve been wanting to try this thing … ” — he leans up, rubbing your hips. he had a look in his face that told you that he was determined for whatever he wanted.

“ and that is ? ” — he smirks at your questioning tone.

“ it’s nothing bad . ” — he reassures you. his hands rub up and down your thighs, silently coaxing you. “ i want to…eat you out . ” he bites his lip, anticipating your response.

“ what ? ” — you chuckle, not believing him.

“ i’m serious . i’ve wanted to since we got together . please . ” — he kneads your thighs, almost beggingly. it was cute.

“ mark , i don’t even — ” — he cuts you off.

“ please . ”

“ i—i’m gonna start now … ” — he mumbles, inching closer to your core. you clench at nothing, anticipating for his tongue to connect with your cunt.

he groans at the start tase, his mouth watering. he laps at you for a few times, stopping before continuing. this, was heaven. his head between your thighs, pleasuring his girl. this is what life was.

then , he remembers the videos he watches. girls like their clits played with.

one of his hands that held your legs open inched further up, drawing tight and fast circles on your bud. “ shit . ” — your back lifts off the bed, your hands gripping the comforter under you.

“ haaaa haahaa … ” — your eyes touch the top of your eye lids. there’s no way your getting through this. the wetter you got, the lewder the noise got. he slurped and sucked you down like a glass of water. his fingers prodded at your entrance, rimming around your hole.

“ fuck , you’re such a good girl . ” — he mewls, drowning himself in you.

one thing you’ve realized with this moment that he was a munch. for now on, he would beg to eat you out til the end of his days. “ i love you . ” — he coos. you don’t know if he was talking to you or your cunt.

his two fingers creep into your cunt, curling up to drag his fingers along your spongy walls. you jerk up, the pad of his fingers rubbing against your g — spot. “ please baby , let me taste you . ” — he begs for your release, shaking his head between your thighs.

“ mark ! ” — you pull him away by his hair, giving your body a break. you look down at him, his touch lolling out of his mouth, his hand pushing against your hand. “ baby , please . ” — he whines.

this was mark’s best birthday .

new mark bot , sinister!mark !! — You watched your Mark’s body lost its life, going limp. Everything and nothing made sense to you. Why were two Invincible’s fighting each other. Na why was your Mark the one to lose. “I have searched galaxies for you.” The yellow and black suited Invincible slowly walked towards you, his body taut. “I’ve missed you. Why? Why did you leave me?” He couldn’t help but remember when he couldn’t save you from a building falling on you. You were taken out of his life and he wasn’t about to let it happen again.

[max1-taxi]

first time opening up on here, because only one person i know irl follows me. otherwise i doubt this will reach anyone. but i am so sensitive and i really hate when i tell someone in advance (i have to put myself together and motivate myself to tell someone, otherwise i wont.) they do not listen, i do not want to diagnose myself with anything but i know they have something wrong with me and it will be even weirder if there isn't, i dont reach out or vent to anyone so me posting here is a huge step and im scared some will judge me for being 'overdramatic'

anyways, i was with my bestfriend, and im not complaining, im very attached to her and i love her very much.

and i told her what i was sensitive about and how i researched and spent hours looking up at borderline personality disorder and how i think i might have it. i was honest with her and told her i splitted over her numeral times and how im suicidal (i never sh'd because i have a weak pain tolerance) and im sensitive and as easy if you leave me on read on purpose w.o a reason, (because shes a very busy person which i respect) or block me i will actually have a meltdown and i cry myself to sleep alot over things like that and i temd to lash out on her and i did once recently and i heabily regret it but most of the time if i have to get my snger out on her i do it when shes asleep and i delete it when im in my right mind again.

i also clarified that i suggest she doesnt make fun of my looks (because im also very insecure about my features) and i set some boundaries that day.

few days later i told her about it, she crosses the line, she leaves me on read just because she felt like it and blocked me just because i was pissing her off (and by that she means - i was being myself / i was comfortable around her) snd this caused me to split really badly one night and it completely turned me off. i love my bestfriend still but shes caused me to split one two many times and almost made me ALMOST* self harm because of it.

anyways i dont want to diagnose myself with anything, im just sharing my experience.

whoever read all this, you're the sweetest perosn ever ty for reading out my vent <3

unfortunately i DID take what you said to heart and now i’m sobbing and debating on whether i should kill you or kill myself

[wosospacegirl]

My girl always gets so cranky - leah williamson

Summary: Y/n’s PMS is ruining her night out with Leah, but when things explode over messy eyeliner, Leah’s love and patience bring her back down.

Word count: 1.6k

Notes: just a little fluff fic because im o period, also, say reservation one more time.

..

Y/n tried to be a good person, a good friend, a good colleague and a good girlfriend. She always tried her hardest to be kind, patient and overall a nice person, but there was a specific time in the month that, somehow, turned her into a whole other person.

Y/n had begged Leah to take her out on a date a few days ago, saying she missed trying new foods with her. So Leah, as an amazing girlfriend, did just that.

She reserved a table at a new Arab restaurant in North London and was excited to go out with her girl, but Y/n was having a really hard time getting ready.

“Love, c’mon,” Lead said as she leaned in the archway of the door, watching Y/n doing her makeup in front of the mirror. “We need to go like–” she looked at her watch, “–now.”

Y/n sat at her vanity, gripping the eyeliner as if it had personally wronged her. She knew she was being irrational — knew she was too tired, too stressed, too overwhelmed — but that didn’t stop the frustration from simmering beneath her skin. The shaky lines on her eyelids felt like a metaphor for her entire week: messy, uneven, and impossible to fix.

Y/n had been trying to do cat eyes for the last 25 minutes, but none of her attempts were good enough.

Each line was messier than the last, and every time she wiped it away, it seemed to get worse. Her breathing hitched as she tried to steady her hand and try to do the eyeliner again, but the tension building in her body made it another failed attempt.

She was getting frustrated already, and having Leah breathing down her neck didn’t help with the situation.

She inhaled deeply, forcing herself to remain calm. “I’m almost done, Leah,” she called out, trying to keep her voice steady, though it came out more strained than she intended. “Just give me five more minutes.”

But Leah wasn’t having it. She appeared at the door, arms crossed. “You said that ten minutes ago, babe– I just don’t want to lose the reservation.”

“Well, we will lose the reservation if you don’t step away for a minute and actually let me do my makeup,” Y/n grumbled.

“Oh no! I actually don’t,” Y/n gave Leah the most faux-dumbfounded face. “Can you please explain it to me, Leah?”

Leah crossed her arms. “You do know how a reservation works, right?”

After she finished her sentence her face was back into her grumpy expression.

“Don’t give me attitude,” Leah said angrily, but slowly breathed in and out, calming down. “You know what? If you don’t wanna go, just say so.

“I wanna go! I already said I’m almost done, I just need to get this cat eye right–”

“You look great…I promise. It’s just makeup, Y/n.” The reservation is more important, don’t you think?” Leah said, her voice sharper now.

Normally Leah was very unperturbed by Y/n and her not-so-nice attitude. Mainly because generally, Y/n was very kind and loving, but Leah knew the girl had her moments, especially after a long and stressful day.

“I care about how I look, Leah” Y/n bit back, putting her make-up down again. “I just want to look nice for once–but this stupid eyeliner won’t cooperate.

Was Y/n being spoiled and kind of a brat? Yes. Did Y/n care about it right now? No.

She just wanted to look pretty once. Her whole week had been stressful, she felt ugly and bloated and…she just felt like shit, really– and now Y/n couldn't even have a little time for herself without Leah being annoying. 

She had an argument with her sister two days ago,  it was followed by a disastrous meeting at work where no one seemed to know what they were doing. And then Leah had been in a foul mood since her team’s loss.

Y/n just wanted some time to relax, a night to herself and Leah– a night she’d been looking forward to.

But everything was going wrong.

Leah sighed, stepping into the room and looking at her watch. “Babe, we’re going to lose the reservation if we don’t leave now,” she said, repeating herself once again.

“Bloody hell, Leah” Y/n snapped as she turned to Leah. “You can go alone if you want to.” 

Y/n clutched the eyeliner before throwing it at Leah, who dodged it while looking at Y/n as if she was crazy.

Leah stood frozen for a second after dodging the eyeliner, her eyes flickering from Y/n and the spot where the eyeliner landed. For a moment she felt her face hardened–her eyebrows getting drawn tight, her lips parted, ready to snap at Y/n. 

But instead, she sighed and ran her hands down her face in frustration before collecting herself. She breathed one, two, three times. But as she was ready to speak, Y/n’s angry voice filled the room.

For a second, Leah’s anger burned hot. ‘She can’t be serious’, Leah thought. She was just trying to get her out the door so they didn’t lose the reservation, the reservation to the restaurant Y/n wanted to go.

She wanted to scream at Y/n and tell her she was being irrational.

“You clearly don’t care about how I feel and how I look,” Y/n stomped her way to their bedroom. “I just wanted to do a fucking cat eye.”

As Y/n screamed the last quote, she slammed the door to the bedroom shut. She could already feel tear-pickering in her eyes. She cleaned the tears aggressively while going to the bathroom. 

Stupid. She was stupid. She couldn’t get ready on time. She couldn't do her make-up properly. She couldn’t even pick an outfit. Y/n was looking at herself in the mirror and realised she looked ugly in it.

She began crying even more, her hand pressed to her face. 

Nothing went as planned this week. Nothing went as planned today.

A gentle knock came on the bathroom door, and moments later, Leah walked in, crossing the room quietly and wrapping her arms around Y/n.

“Shh, it’s okay, come here.”

Y/n felt warmth and the sweet smell of Leah’s cologne. 

Leah held Y/n to her chest as she put her chin on top of Y/n’s head, rocking them silently.

It was like the physical comfort was just another trigger for Y/n’s tears. She pressed her body even harder against Leah as she sobbed.

“I’m sorry today’s been so hard,” Leah whispered in her ear. “I also didn’t contribute much to it, huh?”

Leah’s heart clenched, watching Y/n like that, shoulder shaking slightly, feeling the girl sobbing against her body. If Leah was feeling any kind of angriness or frustration, it disappeared the moment she landed her eye on Y/n. 

Leah knew the whole situation wasn’t really about the make-up or the reservation. Y/n had been snappier than usual in the last few days, and Leah had a pretty good guess as to why.

“No, it’s not your fault,” Y/n mumbled, Y/n sniffled, lifting her head slightly to meet Leah’s gaze.” I-I’m just pmsing, I think.” 

“Oh, so that’s what it is,” Leah said knowingly, her lips quirking into a small smile .“My girl always gets so cranky.” Leah pinched Y/n’s cheek playfully.

Y/n nodded, shyly.

“Come on,” Leah said, helping Y/n sit on the bathroom counter while she took some makeup wipes. “Let me help clean you up.”

Y/n sat quietly as Leah grabbed some makeup wipes, her hands surprisingly gentle as she wiped away the smudged eyeliner. Leah’s fingers lingered on Y/n’s face, her thumb brushing along her jaw as if trying to erase more than just makeup.

“I’m sorry I made us lose the reservation,” Y/n mumbled, her voice small “I was just…frustrated about how I looked and the make-up wasn’t helping.”

Leah leaned in and kissed her softly. “It’s okay,” she said quietly. “I get grumpy when I’m PMSing too. You don’t have to feel bad.”

“But I was a bitch,” Y/n muttered, her voice full of guilt.

“Nah,” Leah grinned, waving it off. “Okay, maybe a bit, but I was bloody annoying, so I don’t blame you.”

“I hope we can get the reservations soon?” Y/n asked, looking to the side as Leah gently turned her chin.

“I’ll try again next week, alright?” Leah promised.

“Okay,” Y/n mumbled, still sounding defeated.

“You know,” Leah murmured softly, placing a kiss on Y/n’s temple, “I don’t care if you show up with the messiest eyeliner in the world. You’re still the prettiest girl ever.”

They were in silence as Leah finished cleaning Y/n’s face, her thumb always so gently tracing the line of her cheeks and nose.

“Well, if this cat-eye thing doesn't work out, we could always just go for the ‘I'm so cute even when I cry’ look, "Leah said teasingly, as she wiped the last bit of makeup away.

“I’ll take the cute look any day,” Y/n said, rolling her eyes playfully.

“It looks great on you, darling,” Leah said, kissing Y/n on the lips. “Anything on you looks great.”

“Did you still think that when I had a raccoon-styled eyeliner just half an hour ago?” Y/n smiled, lifting one eyebrow.

“Yes,” Leah winked at her. “It looked edgy, I liked it.”

..

Please don't forget to like, reblog and leave feedback!!! plss <3

Masterlist

[backinmyphase]

You didn't even know how this happened and if you were in your right mind, you would be embarrassed to no end, but somehow you ended up laying in fratboy! Satoru's bed with him on top of you making out, and god who knew what would happen after a few drinks at one of his parties?

But even now you still were wondering why his kisses felt so passionate, why his hand on your waist held you so securely and steady and why were you imagining a faint blush on his cheeks?

What a few drinks do to you, huh?

"Fuck, you are so hot..." he was mumbling into your lips while his other hand explored your body. You felt yourself burning up at his words and after a small whine escaped your lips, he chuckled while creating a small gap between you two.

"Says you..." a poor attempt to flirt really, but it did draw a small laugh from him.

"Soooooo..." he started to lightly pull at your shirt and a bit of panic ignited through your body. "Is this okay?"

He stopped in his tracks and looked at you through his dazed eyes. Blue eyes. Really, really pretty eyes.

Fuck, why were people always judging other girls for spending the night with him? You would do it for the rest of your life if you could...

"Hey, if you don't want to, it's alright-" after your lack of response, the famous fratboy! Satoru really got nervous and looked at you with no of his usual confidence.

"No no, I want this but..." you cleared your throat while looking away. "Could you please turn off the light?"

He blinked at you two times. Then three times. His mouth slowly opening and closing again, making you feel smaller under his gaze and almost clutch onto your clothes. He then sat up while shaking his head. "Why?"

"Oh you know..." you followed him and sat up yourself, while letting out a nervous laugh. "Don't want you to be turned off."

...

That wasn't what Satoru wanted to hear, no never. He looked at you with so much confusion he genuinely thought you were joking at first. But when he saw your awkward smile he couldn't believe you really meant it.

"Me? Turned off? By you?"

"Oh I know how it is, sometimes the imagination is better than reality, I don't want to ruin the fun-" you let out another nervous laugh. You already ruined this didn't you?

"Me? Turned off? By you??" he groaned as he saw the genuine confusion on your face.

"I don't understand..." you muttered while he studied your face with a critical look.

"Listen to me sweetheart." he pulled you close again and you could just barely surpress the little sigh that was about to leave you.

"You're literally the most gorgeous woman I have ever laid my eyes on. And I won't be turned off by any part of you, okay?"

Now it was your turn to blink at him. And it was probably just the lightning, but he seemed even more red.

"You are telling that every girl." you accidentally muttered what was supposed to stay in the safe and deadly space of your head, but he heard it and now almost seemed to glare at you.

"Jesus we need to work on your self esteem." he started to hide his face in the crook of your neck, nibbling at the skin. "And I won't fuck you, if I can't admire you, just to be clear. I waited to long for this moment to not see you moaning my name."

Now you were really burning up, what the hell?

"Please, I just don't want this to be ruined by my not so great loc-"

"I waited to long, seeing you every day at campus, admiring you, listening to your sweet voice, to only get a dark room for my first time worshipping you."

"Gojo, stop it-" you felt like dying from his words, feeling him touching you everywhere wasn't helping you in any way. Even if you will dream of this.

"Satoru. You know the name." he groaned into the crook of your neck. "Sweetheart, I think we have to just cuddle for today."

It was stupid but your heart sank at his words because, fuck, you really did ruin it. "Is that so?"

"Yeah. I have to take you out at first so you get that I'm serious."

What a few drinks do to you, huh? If only you knew fratboy! Satoru wanted to ask you out since last year.

Listened to bed chem while writing this hehehe

[circledwithaheart]

Buck is a few shots deep (when did he switch to shots?) with his new bar buddy. An attractive older guy who, as it turns out, also used to work at the 118 under Captain Nash.

"You worked with Bobby?" Buck lights up and rambles on before the guy can answer. "That means you must've worked with Hen and Chim, right?"

The guy mumbles a few things that Buck can't hear, and probably doesn't want to, before confirming he worked with Hen and Howie.

"Yeah, right. Howie. You know he married my sister? Gave me the cutest little niece." Buck beams and pulls out his phone to show off the album of Jee Yun photos. And then the other thought strikes again.

They look about the same age. It's possible, he thinks. Well, it's not impossible. Buck goes to pocket his phone again, only he misses his shirt entirely and it clatters on the table.

"Sorry 'bout that, uh, so if you worked with them- did you, uh, work with, uh, T-tommy? Tommy Kinard?"

Why is the name that used to slide off his tongue so easily now trip and stutter like it doesn't belong there?

The guy laughs, not seeming to notice Buck's elocution issues, and takes another shot. “Fuck, I’m getting too old for this shit.”

He spins the empty shot glass like a top. “Kinard? Yep, sure did. One of the best partners I could've asked for. At least he got to leave on his own terms.”

Buck furrows his brow, something familiar scratching at the back of his tequila addled brain. “What, uh, what did you say your name was again?”

“I didn’t,” the guy says matter of factly.

“But, you seem like a nice guy, so I'll tell you," he adds with a wink. "It’s Deluca. Sal Deluca.”

Buck's heard the name, a few stories here and there. Heard he moved to the 122, but doesn't know why.

"You transferred, right?" Buck asks cautiously.

The guy - Sal - shrugs his acknowledgement. "More or less. Anyway, I guess I better amend my introduction then. It's actually Captain Deluca. But Sal is fine. Or just Deluca."

"Buck."

Sal looks at him like he's got three heads. "Is that something new the kids are saying these days or...?"

"No, uh, 's m'name. Buck. Well, Evan Buckley, but you can call me Buck."

Sal studies him for a second before holding a hand out. "Nice to meet you, kid."

They shake hands and Buck thinks about the way Sal called him 'kid'. It's not like when Tommy said it. More like Bobby or Chim. Familial.

"Sorry to drink and run, but I gotta get home," Sal says, pushing out of his chair. "Wife's gonna kill me if I'm home too late."

"Oh, yeah. Sure. Maybe I'll see you around."

"Yeah, maybe." Then he's throwing some cash on the table and walking away.

~~~~~

As soon as he's out of sight, Sal taps on the camera app. It's probably a little unethical to surreptitiously be taking photos of the kid- Buck- but it's for a good cause.

Once upon a time he might have tried to pick him up, something about the kicked puppy look pulls at his heartstrings. Among other things. But now he's a happily married man with a whole brood to think about. Gina really would kill him, decorated fire captain or not.

He swipes over to messages and fires off a quick text.

Met your boy tonight. Christ Kinard he’s as bad as you. Should really put yourselves out of your collective misery.

It doesn't take long before the bubbles appear.

I did, remember? It's better this way.

Sal attaches the picture this time.

Better for who, exactly?

The bubbles appear and disappear again, until his screen eventually goes dark and no more responses come. Sal sighs and gets in the cab of his truck, contemplating another text, but ultimately decides against it. Tommy will talk when he's ready.

He steals another glance through the giant plate glass window where Buck is still sitting, sullen and lost, albeit with what looks like water this time.

"I hope it works out, kid, and he doesn't wait too long." Sal pushes aside the phantom acrid scent of a dinner forgotten in the oven while they fucked on the kitchen floor, the fear in Tommy's eyes when Sal asked when they could tell people about them. Because it had been months of sneaking around to each other's apartments. Of being more than just work partners- or so he thought. "Maybe he'll get his head out of his ass before it's too late this time."

[moki-dokie]

I applaud max for keeping this tradition alive, which i can only imagine dates back to pre-historic times, since i can't imagine any form of humanity where tweens aren't being little hellions to adults in various hilarious ways.

for me? we had this too. we had our own max. i feel like every class has at least one. the charisma is just too strong with them that no matter what, you wind up following their silly antics. especially when it's harmless.

our max was - we'll call him jeremy. this was also, coincidentally, 7th grade. maybe there's just something about 7th graders specifically. anyway. randomly one day in class - i can't remember if it was math or history tbh - jeremy just decided to meow every time the teacher's back was turned. and every time the teacher would ask about it, jeremy, quite seriously, would say "i think there's a cat in the ceiling" while looking up rather concerned. obviously the teacher wasn't buying it, but what can you do. fast forward a few weeks and suddenly half the class is in on it. nobody has been asked to do it. it's evolved from cat in the ceiling to cat in the walls to cat trapped underneath the floors, somehow. every time someone meows, the class begins SO worriedly looking for the source. teacher is annoyed and a little baffled. fast forward again a few months. the way our classrooms were set up in this school were "pods" which was like a semi-circle of 5 rooms that were all linked together. Mostly separated but there was a doorless entrance between each one so teachers could easily go between rooms for whatever they needed. this also meant that, sometimes, if one of the classes were being particularly loud you could hear them with ease. Or, if you happened to be sitting very near that entryway, you just had to speak up a little and they'd hear you next door. jeremy happened to have a class nextdoor to history/math teacher as well. he began meowing from the next room. and SOMEHOW, we all knew he wasn't fucking with THIS room's teacher (english, if I recall), it was specifically to fuck with the other guy. it's like a fucking hivemind, i swear. because sure enough, we started hearing students in the next room do the usual "the cat is in the ceiling!!" bit, while those of us in english were silent as could be. Of course that english teacher had a brow raised at us as well, but because we had no reaction to it she didn't really seem to think much of it. again, we just sort of. knew what to do as one unit. meows were coming from english and from math/history even when jeremy was in neither room. we carried the bit on all day long, every single day. (admittedly, english teacher was getting pretty fed up with it, so kids had to be pretty sneaky.) well eventually we kinda... broke him. LOL in retrospect i realize it was rather shitty of us to continue doing it when he'd asked so many times to stop but i mean, that's tweens for you. especially tweens of the early 00s. we weren't quite the nightmare goblin children of the decades previous, but we were far from being as enlightened as today's youth is. poor guy had a full on tantrum at the class, screaming and crying (with frustration, as one does) to the point the whole damn pod could hear him, and every teacher came out to go check on him. (in his defense, this was his first year teaching. i don't think he was quite prepared for the weird psychological warfare tweens can wage.)

we had a very serious talking to from both the principal and counselor the next day to cut the shit out or else they'd start doing sweeping punishments for every single student in class since no one would fess up (and, realistically, since it was a group effort lol). so for a little while, the meowing ceased and everything went back to normal. but near the end of the school year, like the last couple of weeks, jeremy started it again, and so did everyone else LOL luckily by then the teach could laugh it off along with the rest of us, realizing kids are gonna be kids and are gonna be annoying and dumb.

but it was a very odd thing to have pulled off with 0 communication. and as far as i know, nobody ever talked about it much outside of "yeah so this happened in class today". jeremy was just cult-leadery enough we were able to take his lead and run with it.

i think 7th graders have special powers.

[gf2bellamy]

ouugh. post prison Spencer and reader who he was already dating pre prison... after he gets out he's afraid he's not good enough for r anymore because he did what he had to do in prison... oughh.. and he starts pulling away from r and they reassure him that he did nothing wrong and they still love him no matter what...

just a thought since i saw ur post about post prison Spencer :)

no pressure to write anything based on this i just wanted to share my thought!!

-🪲

changed — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x reader ( no use of y/n ) content warnings: spencer distancing himself from reader , kind of emotional a/n: hiii !!i hope this is what you asked for !!

You weren’t entirely sure what to do anymore.

Spencer had been pulling away from you, and it was breaking your heart piece by piece.

At first, you told yourself it was normal—an expected reaction to the months he had spent in prison. The trauma of that experience was something you couldn’t fully understand, but you had tried to be patient, to give him the space and support he needed to heal.

The first few days after his release had been okay—better than okay, even.

Spencer had clung to you like you were his lifeline, hugging you tightly at random moments, his face buried in your shoulder as he whispered how much he had missed you, how much he loved you.

Those moments had been bittersweet, filled with relief that he was finally home. You had held him just as tightly, trying to reassure him that he was safe now, that you were here and you weren’t going anywhere. 

But then, slowly, things began to change. It was subtle at first, so subtle that you almost convinced yourself you were imagining it.

Spencer’s hugs became shorter, less frequent. He started talking about himself in ways that made your chest tighten—little comments here and there that were tinged with self-doubt, as if he didn’t believe he deserved the life he had come back to. 

“I don’t know why you even waited for me,” he had muttered one evening, his voice quiet. You had tried to reassure him, but you weren't sure if you had been successful.

At night, it took him longer to come to bed. He would linger in the living room, staring at nothing, or sit at the kitchen table with a book he wasn’t really reading. When he finally did join you, he would lie stiffly on his side of the bed, as if he were afraid to touch you.

And then there were the looks. You’d catch him watching you sometimes, his gaze distant and unfocused, his eyes holding a sadness that made your chest ache.But the moment he realized you had noticed, he would look away, his expression shuttering as if he were trying to hide something from you.

It was those moments that hurt the most—the way he seemed to retreat into himself, as if he didn’t believe he deserved to be close to you anymore. 

One day, the two of you were sitting on the couch, the TV playing some documentary Spencer had chosen but neither of you were really paying attention to.

You were tired and without thinking, you leaned your head against his shoulder. It was a small gesture, something you’d done a hundred times before, but this time, you felt him stiffen slightly under your touch. 

You pulled back immediately, your stomach twisting.

The reaction was small, barely noticeable to anyone else—but to you, it might as well have been a knife to the chest.

You reached over his lap to grab the remote from his side, your movements quick and a little clumsy, and turned off the TV. The sudden silence in the room felt heavy, almost suffocating. You turned to face Spencer, who looked at you with a slightly surprised expression, his eyebrows furrowed. 

For a moment, you just stared at him, your eyes searching his. And then you saw it again—that distant, sad look in his eyes, the one he always tried to hide from you.

It was like a dam breaking inside you, all the worry and frustration and love you’d been holding back spilling out at once. 

 “We need to talk,” you mumbled as you turned your body more toward him, tucking one leg under you so you could face him fully. 

Spencer blinked, his expression shifting from surprise to something more guarded.

“About what?” he asked, his tone careful, almost hesitant. As he spoke, he pulled his legs slightly away, creating more space between you so that your knees weren’t touching anymore. 

Your heart cracked.

You pointed at the space he had just created, your hand trembling slightly. “That,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “This. Everything. Are you okay?” 

The question hung in the air between you, heavy and loaded. Spencer didn’t answer right away. Instead, he looked down at his hands, his fingers fidgeting with the edge of the blanket draped over the couch.

His silence only made your chest tighten more, the worry you’d been carrying for weeks bubbling to the surface. 

“Spencer,” you said gently, reaching out to touch his arm. He didn’t pull away this time, but he didn’t look at you either. “Please talk to me. I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s going on.” 

He let out a long, shaky breath, his shoulders slumping. “I don’t know how to do this,” he admitted, his voice so quiet you almost didn’t hear him. 

“Do what?” you asked, your voice soft but insistent, your eyes searching his for answers you desperately needed. 

“This,” he said, gesturing vaguely between the two of you. His hand dropped limply to his lap, and he let out a heavy sigh, his shoulders slumping.

“Us. I… I don’t know how to be the person you need me to be anymore.” His voice cracked on the last word, and he brushed a hand over his face, as if trying to wipe away the exhaustion and guilt that seemed to cling to him. 

You opened your mouth to protest, to tell him that he was exactly who you needed, but he kept talking, his words spilling out in a rush, as if he’d been holding them back for too long.

“You just… you need someone—” He paused, his brow furrowing as he searched for the right word. “Better. Someone who didn’t do the things I did, who isn’t… me.” His voice was barely above a whisper now, his eyes fixed on his hands as they twisted nervously in his lap. 

Your heart ached at his words, at the way he spoke about himself. “Spencer—” you started, but he cut you off, his voice trembling as he finally met your eyes. 

“I love you,” he said, the words raw and filled with so much emotion it made your chest tighten. “Too much,” he added, his voice breaking. “But I’m not the same anymore. I don’t know how to be the person I was before, and I don’t know if I can ever be that person again.” 

Tears welled in your eyes as you listened to him, your heart breaking for the man you loved more than anything.

“Spencer,” you said, your voice steady despite the tear that slipped down your cheek. “You don’t have to be the person you were before. You just have to be you. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.” 

He shook his head, his eyes filled with doubt. “You don’t understand,” he whispered. “I’m not… I’m not good for you anymore. I’m not the person you fell in love with.” 

“Yes, you are,” you said fiercely, your voice rising slightly as you leaned closer to him. “You’re still Spencer Reid. You’re still the man who loves me, who makes me laugh, who knows more random facts than anyone I’ve ever met. You’re still the man who held me together when I fell apart, who stayed by my side no matter what. You’re still you, Spencer. And I love you. Not who you were, not who you think you should be. Just you.” 

He stared at you. For a moment, he didn’t say anything, his breath coming in shallow, uneven gasps. And then, slowly, he reached out, his hand trembling as he brushed a tear from your cheek.

“I don’t know how to fix this,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know how to be okay again.” 

“You don’t have to fix it alone,” you said, your voice shaky. “We’ll figure it out together. That’s what we do, remember? We’re a team.” 

Spencer’s breath hitched, and for a moment, he just looked at you, his eyes searching yours as if he were trying to find the truth in your words.

“I don’t deserve you,” he whispered, his voice trembling. 

“Yes, you do,” you said firmly, your hands cupping his face. “You always have.” 

You pulled him into a hug, holding him tightly as if you could somehow transfer all the love and reassurance you felt into him. And for the first time in weeks, he hugged you back just as tightly, his face buried in your shoulder as he let out a shaky breath. 

[clockwayswrites]

A Hill to Die On, Chapter 4 Part 2

masterpost (note that Caroline is not necessarily the best narrator about DID/OSSD, she's just trying explain her experience as she see is [in this story])

“He didn’t,” Caroline gasped, careful not to spill her wine as she leaned forward.

As soon as Dick realized that Caroline didn’t normally get to share and see the world through Tim’s eyes, he had been a fountain of stories about the family. “He did. There was a green tint to his skin for weeks. Sure, the distraction worked, I was able to slip away, but at what cost?”

“You ask that as if Bruce had any dignity left to lose,” Caroline pointed out with a raised brow. “I’m not sure there was even any to lose by the first time that I met him.”

“Oh, no, god no,” Dick said. He leaned forward to snag another piece of the dragon roll. “The cost wasn’t Bruce’s dignity, it was the fact that the fountains have never been dyed green for Saint Patty’s day again! We lost a great tradition that day.”

“A very noble one,” Caroline said somberly.

“Verily,” Dick agreed. He polled the piece of sushi in his mouth and leaned back to drape himself over the couch. He really could lounge. “How long have you known Bruce?”

“You mean you’re trying to figure out how long I’ve been around,” Caroline said.

Dick shrugged, looking only slightly cowed. “Yeah. Is that rude? I don’t want to offend you, but I can’t say that I’m not curious.”

“You’re a Bat, of course you’re curious,” Caroline allowed. She took a piece of sushi too, so that she had some time to think. “I haven’t always been around, just because I simply can’t have. Or I don’t think that I could have, because I think Tim was the first, but I don’t know when I haven’t been around. I have some unclear, fuzzy memories from before, but my first clear memory was when I was there to front for Tim’s first Gala. He was so scared about it. He didn’t want to upset his parents.”

“They weren’t your parents too?”

“No, never,” Caroline said with a vicious sort of certainty. She glanced up and caught Dick’s sympathetic look and gave a wry smile. “Do you know how badly it would have been if the Drakes knew that I existed? Or Alvin once he did? We would have been shipped off to some asylum disguised as a boarding school and they would have tried to fry me out of Tim’s brain. No, I was just there to perform admirably at galas. That was my first mission.”

Dick face was twisted up in a thoughtful little frown as he stared up at the ceiling. Caroline felt privileged that she got to see this side of Dick. She knew that he didn’t like to seem unhappy around many people.

“Didn’t Bruce pick the name Caroline Hill?”

“He did,” Caroline said.

“But…” Dick waved in her direction.

Caroline shifted and folded her legs up to her side as she thought how to explain. “I didn’t have a name. I was simply… the Woman. I think that I’m based a lot on Janet, even though she would have hated that, but also the other woman that we saw at galas. Calm, efficient, and in control. Tim knew I was there, but not… that I was? Or how much I was. I might have not even known. But when I was needed for his mission to be Caroline Hill… I don’t know. I suppose it’s a little like when Pinocchio became a real boy. Suddenly I had a name and a real mission, one for the life Tim loves. It was transformative.”

“And you’ve been… growing? Is that an okay word?”

Caroline shrugged. She didn’t mind the word at least.

“You’ve been growing ever since.”

“I suppose so,” Caroline agreed. She took a sip of her wine. She wondered how much Tim would hate her for explaining this, but someone needed to know. “After this injury, Tim hasn’t really been himself. I think maybe because he doesn’t know who he is without Robin. In all of that thinking… I don’t know how to explain it really, but I guess that there was some more room made for me and Alvin. Alvin might not much want it but God, Dick, I love being alive.”

Dick smiled. “Does that mean you’ll be around more.”

“I have been the last few weeks at least. But I promise that I’m not trying to take over from Tim,” Caroline said in a rush as it occurred to her that Dick might be worried about it. “I’m just enjoying some time out and about and some, ah, mutual interests and—”

“Caroline, calm down,” Dick interrupted. “I’m not worried about that. Whatever works for you and Tim is all that matters. And, well, Alvin. I just thought that if you’re going to be around more, we should make sure you have some things of your own.”

Caroline blinked, surprised. “Like clothing?”

“Definitely like clothing,” Dick agreed, “but also foods you like and even decor. Like, Tim has a spare bedroom, right? We could make it up as yours or at least a space that’s more your tastes.”

“Oh.” Caroline swallowed back the threat of tears. She wasn’t going to cry, damn it. “I—yes, I’d like that.”

“Shopping trip!” Dick said. His wine splashed on the floor as he threw his arms up in the air. “Oh, oh! What about inviting some of the other girls on the shopping trip?”

Caroline covered her smile with a delicate hand. “You’re not a girl.”

“Bitch, I can rock a skirt,” Dick said as he struck a pose.

“Fine, you wear a skirt for it and you can invite the other girls,” Caroline said before she could second guess it. “But you have to explain me to them before it and make sure that they… that they won’t mind me.’

“They won’t,” Dick promised, “and deal.”

[lavshaze]

❤️ | Beautiful thing

Continuation to terrible thing, but can be read as a stand-alone, I'm terribly sorry this took so long, I'm starting to think writing silco smut is my destiny and I should just drop out and do this 24/7

✧ contains ⤐ continuation of the wet dream shenanigans, so naturally also smut! finger sucking and fucking, oral (female receiving), missionary, a lot of feelings, like the yearning truly hits its climax (but so do both of them so it's alright), oh and lovely tween jinx is there at the beginning <3 w.c. ~ 7.7k (big boy)

It’s around 7:35 when you reach The Last Drop. 

You could blame it on the amount of time you spent in the shower, staring at the tiled floor and trying to get over the visions you had, but you weren’t going to tell Silco any of that. ‘I almost got robbed’ sounds a lot nicer and just as believable. 

You’re greeted with ear-splitting music the minute you walk through the door, a usual for the club, especially at this hour. It was only getting started and was probably going to be a lot worse by the time you leave. You pull your jacket tighter around yourself as you scan the crowd of faceless dancing bodies, looking for your possible silver line for tonight, a tall and strong woman who you’d actually pay to come up to Silco’s office and bully you just for this night. 

You visibly deflate when you don’t catch sight of her in her usual spots, not playing poker nor flirting at the bar. All you can see is a lot of sweaty people and a lot of shimmer being passed around. You do, however, spot Ran by the pool table, and you place her in your mind as your backup plan. 

Fortunately for Ran, your favorite blue haired devil is at your side the minute you open the door to his office. 

“Jinx!” 

You yelp out her name in equal parts excitement and surprise. Her hug attack nearly knocks you off your feet, if it weren’t for the door frame you’d managed to hold on to. You can’t help the grin that spreads on your face at the eagerness; the poor girl is stuck with a monologuing villain as a father all day, it’s probably a relief to see you, a normal human being who doesn’t glower and speak in riddles.

“Hello, Jinx.” You fondly run your fingers through the hair at the top of her head. She turns her head to look up at you, pearly whites exposed in a wide grin. “I missed you, sweet girl.”

She's grown taller over the past few months, now tall enough to reach your chest when she hugs you, but she's still as lanky as the day you found her. Or, well, the day Silco found her. She was smaller back then, but just as skinny. You look at the man who took her in, deeply immersed in whatever document is stressing him out tonight— looking just as malnourished as she does— and it all makes sense. 

“I've been waiting for you all day,” comes the squeaky whine from below, demanding your undivided attention. “Silco is so busy, he doesn't have the time to check out my new paintball gun, which is really lame, because this one has explosives!”

At the mention of his name, the man looks up from the troubling piece of paper. He stares at you for a minute, eye adjusting to the sight of another human being, then begrudgingly places the wretched document down on the desk and pushes the chair back to stand. 

“You're here.” 

You smile, absentmindedly petting the girl attached to your waist, “yes, I am. Did you not hear me talking just now?” 

He reaches for his glass of bourbon, three melting ice cubes in a nearly empty cup, “I did. I wasn't quite sure if you were a figment of my imagination or not.” 

Your smile almost slips into something sinister, all the nervousness from before suddenly escaping your body, “what, you have fantasies about me?” It’s so easy to slip back into the subtle flirtatious routine, the light comments that aren’t supposed to mean much to either of you. The earth-shattering dream almost seems like a silly thought now that you’re here, in his office, breathing in the air that’s tinted by him in every way. 

It’s Silco. Things didn’t have to change between the two of you, you could always just enjoy purgatory. 

He looks at you from atop the rim of his glass, a flicker of a smile on his face, “only when I'm at my wit's end.” 

The moment ends there, if only to protect Jinx. 

He makes his way around the desk to settle on the couch, leaning back and finishing up his drink. You observe the way his hands curl around the glass, how he crosses one slender leg over the other, and bite down on your lip like a voyeur— always watching through the glass, never having the chance to lay your hands on the merchandise. 

Jinx detaches from your waist and goes over to sit next to him, thankfully pulling you out of the slightly unpleasant thoughts you were having. He puts his arm out, and she automatically goes for a side hug. You smile to yourself, watching The Eye of Zaun growing softer around the edges at the hands of the blue haired menace never gets old. 

You sit beside her on the couch, and she draws you into countless conversations. Reminiscing the past week, telling you about the progress she's been making with the explosives/paintball gun, and how she's already tried it on Sevika a couple times— ‘Jinx, that's not nice’ ‘it's sevika, she doesn't deserve nice!’ — and retelling a particularly funny bar fight that she witnessed.

While she’s explaining the process she went through to implement the explosives into a harmless toy gun, your eyes flicker back to the man at her side. He’s leaning back, craning his neck to look at the ceiling, and you take the chance to admire his side profile. Enhanced by the dim light of his desk lamp, the curve of his nose is particularly alluring at the moment. From his nose to his charming overbite to the strands of hair that fall to the side as a result of a long exhausting day, you sneak subtle glances at him, as much as you can without getting caught. 

But you know, in your heart of hearts, that he must be aware of your burning gaze on the side of his face. And you know, when he turns his head slightly to lock eyes with you, that the look he gives you is just as loaded and dangerous as this little game you were playing.

“..anyways, I’d really like to show you the gun now.” 

Your attention falls back to the child nestled between the two of you, big blue eyes blinking innocently at you. You know she’s not clueless, and you know she’s probably sick of you playing eye games with her father when she’s right there. 

“Of course, honey. Silco?” 

He removes his arm from around her, adjusting his position so his body is drawn away from yours. Huh, funny. You hadn’t noticed how much it was angled towards you until now. 

Jinx sighs in relief the minute the two of you are out of the door and you can’t help but laugh.

“Jinx.” 

“Oh, c’mon, it’s impossible to be in the same room with the two of you without you making kissy eyes at each other!” 

Thankfully, you’re far enough down the hall to know Silco wouldn’t hear that. “We do not make kissy eyes at each other.” 

She stops, turns to give you an unamused look, then turns back around and continues walking. 

You follow her down to the basement, where she pulls out her magnificent invention. She shoots it far enough away so neither of you get impacted and you’re thankful to see that the explosions are more like fireworks than actual big booms. You’re proud of her and you tell her as much, she practically glows at the praise.

But then her smile drops and she sighs dramatically— the spitting image of her father when it comes to dramatics, how are they not blood related— “if only things could always be like this…” 

You frown, “like what?” 

“You and me, having fun, no Silco.” 

The statement is so jarring that it pulls a stunned laugh out of you, and Jinx grins, proud of herself. “Kidding! I like him too, I just wish you two would stop your secret messages.”

“Secret messages?” 

She nods, “the ones you communicate with your eyes. I wanna be in on those conversations too!” 

You smile. She definitely does not want to be in on those conversations, but you'd preserve what was left of her innocence. 

“So, Jinx,” you lean down to be on her level, “what do you wanna do next?” 

You watch as all thoughts of those secret conversations practically vanish from her head, replaced with much more important things, like visiting Jericho’s stall. 

When you make your way back to Silco’s office, it’s with a lot more food than you left with. Jinx is happily satisfied with the meal that she had at the stall, but she carries the extra food bags like ammo. She was nice enough to consider leaving some of it for her dear father. 

To your disappointment though, the office is empty. You think maybe something came up and he had to take care of it, as it often happens, and you feel a little relieved that maybe you’ll get to end the night here and postpone the sensual torture he puts you through to a later time, when you're not so hormonal. As you’re about to back up into the hallway to ask the standing guard of his whereabouts, you feel a pair of hands on your hips, holding you in place.

“Careful,” Silco leans forward to speak the words right into your ear, “it’s awfully rude to cause such an injury to your host.” He’s not even whispering, he just always uses that tone. 

His hands are gone from your hips as fast as they’d been placed there, and you almost mourn the loss. But the sight of Jinx’s knowing, bored expression diverts your attention back to the girl. 

Right, no kissy eyes. 

“Jericho’s?” He asks, one eyebrow raised. Jinx nods and rushes to place the remaining food on the coffee table, “we got some for you too!” 

“How nice of you, Jinx. Unfortunately, I’m rather full at the moment so I must postpone such an appetizing meal to a later time.” You note the smell of smoke in the air, he definitely had his meal of the night. “In the meantime, I think we should be getting you to bed.” 

Jinx groans, “already? But she just got here! I barely get to spend time with her.” 

You put an arm around her shoulder, “I’ll come by earlier on Monday if you go to bed on time right now.” She moves to wrap her arms around you for a final time, looking up at you with glossy blue eyes, “you promise?” 

“I do,” you plant a kiss on her forehead. 

Silco extends a hand and she takes it, small fingers engulfed in his much larger one. She waves at you as he guides her outside his office, down to her bedroom, you wave back as they slip out the door. This leaves you in the dim office alone. 

You saunter over to the couch and mindlessly drape yourself over the cushions, your head occupied with the inevitable decision you’re facing now. You either make up an excuse to leave early, one that he’d know better than to believe, or stay and put up with more hidden innuendos and dark, poorly masked looks. It’s not that you’re not used to it, or that it’s a new development, but rather the fact that you’ve come to the harrowing realization that whatever you felt for him ran deeper than you anticipated. It had been bubbling in your chest, threatening to overflow like a boiling kettle on a stove, and the final straw— the thing that truly pushed you over the edge— was that dream. 

And it's not the fact that it was dirty, you've had those about him before, and consequently, you’d learned to brush them off as wild fantasies. It happened once in a dream kind of deal, you weren’t going to get hung up over the possibilities of those thoughts ever coming to fruition. The problem with this particular dream was how romantic it was— the heated gaze in his reflection, the appreciative scan of your body, gods, just the feeling of him inside you. You weren’t fucking that man, you were making love to him. 

The thought is so cliche it makes you gag, but that look in his eyes when he was watching you in the mirror, your unconscious brain was endlessly cruel to make it look like he held such love for you. The longing, the monstrous yearning that dream instilled in you was dangerous. It planted a feeling inside your chest that now threatens to split it open if you're not careful. 

You're not blind to possibilities, there's a chance that Silco shares the sentiment and you're not in this mess entirely alone; but you're also aware that he's extremely mission oriented, and he probably wouldn't consider the prospect of something serious with you as long as Zaun wasn't free. It’s something you respect him for, never losing sight of his goals, you just wish it didn't make him nearly unattainable.

Because gods above, you'd love to attain him. 

It’s a thought that’s been brewing in the back of your mind since you first met. Three years ago, a much more distressed version of yourself was too tipsy to feel endangered by his presence at one of the less frequented bars. Back when Vander was in charge, you didn't know who Silco was or the implications of what had happened between them. All you knew was that this strange man had a sexy scar and his eye kinda glowed in the dark, and that made your alcohol-addled brain see stars.  

To this day, you aren’t quite sure what about your slurred conversation skills made him tolerate you enough to listen to you all night. You’ve suspected it was the loneliness he was dealing with at the time, and you were likely his least dangerous form of entertainment, or maybe he thought you were pretty and perhaps much more charming when sober. It’s probably the second one.

But that's how your unconventional friendship started, chance encounters in small bars. He was always able to find you alone and you were never sure how he did it but you didn't really mind. Where you found your curiosities being satisfied every time he shared something about himself, he found someone willing to share the burden with him. Eventually, you learned about Vander and what actually happened between them. The river, the betrayal, the blood; the respect you'd had for Vander soured into distaste, and turned into borderline hatred when you learned of the deal he had with the enforcers. 

Things were progressing quickly though, and it wasn't long before Vander was out of the picture. The Hound had been overpowered by The Eye, and that's when you met Jinx for the first time, hysterical and wailing in Silco’s arms. Powder, they used to call her, peculiarly fitting for the girl who had crumbled in your hold that night. You held her until the screaming ceased and the three of you fell asleep on the couch. 

That's when your relationship with Silco started changing, getting much more intimate. That night where Silco discovered just how useful you could be with Jinx, that was the first domino in a long line that led up to this moment, to the present where you were fighting tooth and nail against the feelings that were threatening to suffocate you. 

The sound of the door unlocking pulls you out of your thoughts, the object of your suffering walks in. 

“Drink?” He walks over to the bar cart.

You shake your head, “actually, Silco, I'm thinking of going home early today.” 

He pours himself some whiskey and doesn't look up at you, “oh, were you now?” He takes a slow, agonizing sip of his drink before he speaks again, “anything important?”  

You smile in spite of yourself, “not really, just tired.” 

He looks up from his drink, two mismatched eyes settling on your frame. His gaze travels down your body, assessing you as if you were one of the chembarons working under him. But under that scrutinizing gaze, you catch embers of something else, something dark and seductive, something that looks a lot like desire. 

Your face burns. 

“I guess I shall not keep you then.” He turns, walking over to his desk, “I wouldn't want to distract you from such important appointments.” 

He settles back in his chair and is almost immediately immersed in work again. You envy him for being so focused, knowing that if you go home now you'll just keep yourself awake thinking about him. You watch his fingers grasp the pen that he puts to paper and feel yourself grow light-headed, it wasn't fair. It wasn't fair that you had to go home and sit with your thoughts while all he touches is paperwork. You wanted him to touch you, put you out of your misery. 

You stand but make no move towards the door, instead making your way over to him. He doesn't look up when you pass by, walking over to the grand window that highlights the main wall of the office. You'd always been fascinated by it, the color was certainly a choice, and in daylight it looks mystifying. Right now, it's dark enough for you to catch your reflection, you pretend to adjust your hair. 

“You don't really want to leave, do you?” 

He doesn't move, doesn't turn in his chair. You know he can't see the gesture but you shake your head, “I don't know.” 

“Is there something you'd like to tell me?” 

Your body feels a tad too warm for comfort. 

“I don't know.” 

He discards his work with a sigh. Your lips curl in amusement, knowing that whenever you’re around, he’s too distracted to get any actual work done.

You watch as his reflection comes up behind yours, the heat in your body intensifies in response to the glowing glare of his dark eye. You know he's aware of the effect he has on you, and you know he does it on purpose. You wonder if he's ever haunted with thoughts of you the way you are of him, you wonder if he ever has dirty dreams about you. 

“Has something happened?” 

You shake your head. 

“Is someone threatening you?”

You shake your head again and laugh, of course that's what he would ask. 

“Look at me.” 

You don't have it in you to resist, especially when he's using that tone. You turn around, coming face to face with his narrowed eyes, sea green and charcoal eyes looking back at you. It’s difficult to miss the hint of concern that you’ve become accustomed to recognizing over the years. 

“What's on your mind, dove?” 

Your heart sings at the pet name and your lips curl bashfully, “I can't say it.” 

“Can't you?” His eyes trail down to your lips, “you can tell me anything.” 

In theory, you can. In theory, you have, ever since you first met and you'd spilled way too much about yourself to him, and that leap of faith is exactly how you ended up here. Standing in front of the man who holds your heart so firmly, unable to reach out and touch him, unable to have more than a small part of him. 

He draws closer, too close. 

“No, Sil. I'm afraid I can't this time,” your voice comes out soft, strained, “I'm afraid I have to leave before I do something stupid.” 

He pays no mind to your statement, hands reaching up to cup your face, rough fingertips contradicting the gentle nature of the act. Your eyes gloss over, the spark you've been feeling erupts into wild flames that threaten to consume your whole being. His thumb brushes over your cheekbone with such care that it makes your chest squeeze. Expression unreadable, he observes your face carefully; when his thumb skirts the outline of your lips, your breath catches in your throat.

You part your lips slightly and something inside him understands the silent communication. Something else throbs.

Experimentally, he brushes his thumb over your lips, appreciating the rough texture of the chewed skin. He watches as you open your mouth wider in invitation, assessing the situation before he pushes his thumb past your lips and right into the wetness of your oral cavity. Your mouth closes around him, careful not to bite, as you stare back into his observant eyes.

His breath hitches, pupil of the good eye blowing wider, as he watches you take his finger to the hilt. You think this must be another cruel trick from the gods, another wet dream that you're going to wake up from in frustration, but the feeling of his finger against your soft, wet tongue is unmistakable.

You’re not sure what this means, for you or your relationship with him, but you’re sure that it’s happening and you feel the need to savor what you can. Your hand comes up to wrap around his wrist, thumb caressing the inside of his hand as your eyelids grow heavier. 

For a moment, the world stops. For a moment, all you can think about is how he tastes in your mouth, and flashes of the wicked dream you had only a few hours before run through your mind. Weeks of filthy thoughts push at you to do more, to ask for more of him, but you’re insistent on taking it slow, on memorizing every little gesture, just in case you never experience it again. 

“Do you have any idea what you do to me?” 

You hum around his finger. The tent in his pants may be a visual representation of the effect you have on him, but you’re feeling rather greedy. 

“Surely, you must, or else, you wouldn't walk into this office with such pride, so confident knowing that you've got me wrapped around your finger.” Your lips curl into a smile around his finger and he scoffs in amusement, “happy to know that you're my weakness, aren't you?” 

He removes his finger and you're left to think about the implications of a ‘weakness’. A soft spot, a passion, a sweetness, a hazard, an obstacle, a problem. Did Silco see you as a problem? And most importantly, as you look into hungry, lustful eyes, does he care about that right now? 

You can't help the hand that comes up to grasp at his vest in desperation, you can't help the frantic need to keep him close while you can, to touch him for as long as he deems himself touchable. You can't help the force that makes you pull him closer to press your lips against his in a bruising kiss, and you can't help the shiver that runs through your body when he kisses you back with just as much force. 

He tastes like the cigar that you knew he was having earlier, sweetened by the taste of whiskey still in his mouth. The contact overwhelms your senses, unable to process anything besides how he tastes, how he smells, how he feels. 

He backs you up against the window so your burning hot skin is pressed against the cold glass, tongue shoving into your mouth with admirable ferocity. You let him tilt your head for better access, place his arms around your waist, push you up against the glass, you'd let him do anything to you right now. 

Sharp teeth bite down on your lips and the metallic taste of blood fills your mouth, you find yourself unable to contain the small sounds of pleasure at his vicious probing. You can feel his arousal through his pants, poking at your thigh. Hungry for more, you reach down to give it a stroke over the clothes, to which he groans directly into your mouth.  

He draws back and you come face to face with the feral look in his eyes. 

“Needy little thing.” 

He reaches underneath your skirt and you gasp when his cool fingers make contact with the warm wetness of your underwear. He runs his finger back and forth in slow tortuous cycles. 

“So wet, so eager for my touch. Tell me, dove, how many times have you fantasized about this?” Your breath catches as he moves the offending fabric to the side and presses his finger to your bare cunt. “How many times have I made you this wet?” 

“Silco, please.” 

A devilish smile extends on his lips, “I know. Answer my question.” 

You throw your head back against the glass in frustration, breathing deeply. 

“More than I can count.”  

The fire that catches in his eyes is enough to burn down the greatest libraries in the world, mere embers of it manage to set your whole body aflame. It would be mortifying to witness if you weren’t the object of his affection, the recipient of what pleasure he has to offer. 

“You terrible little thing.”

Your answer rewards you with one, long finger easing its way past your lips and into your cunt. Your hips stutter at the contact and it elicits a sharp smile from your assailant as he curls the digit inside you. He watches your face contorting in pleasure, drawing out helpless needy moans from your sweet little mouth. He moves to swallow the gasps with his own, planting soft but relentless kisses on your lips. 

He's kind enough to insert a second finger in, working you on his hand as he angles his wrist to reach further inside. You break off from his mouth to peer down at the sight, watching his fingers disappear into your cunt; it’s endlessly obscene and it only feeds the fire burning inside you. You tighten around him when the pleasure gets too much and he grunts into your ear, the sound rolling down your spine. 

You force your head back up so he can kiss you again, shoving your head back against the glass. He claims your mouth once more, fingers relentlessly probing at your opening. His thumb moves to rub against your clitoris and your body twitches with pleasure, forcing you to draw back from his searing hot mouth. He observes you with the ravenousness of a predator observing its prey, appreciating the way your mouth helplessly hangs open. 

His thumb continues to rub against your clit as you approach the precipice at an alarming rate.

“I should like to see you speechless like this more often.” 

The smug smirk that stretches upon his kiss-bruised lips, the sinful tone of his voice, and the burning hot gaze he observes you with— it’s all too much. 

It takes a lot of control to keep your eyes open, but you don't strip him of the pleasure that comes from watching you crumble at his hand— on his hand. Those cursed, rough fingers that have committed atrocious crimes in the name of a greater cause, they continue to fuck the common sense out of you until you have no fight left in you.

When he pulls his fingers out, they’re coated with your wetness and you flush in embarrassment. Undeterred, he places the fingers in his mouth and licks them clean, before he leans forward and presses a soft kiss against your lips.

“Shall we continue this in the bedroom?” 

Gods above, thank you Janna. 

“Please.” 

When you're laid down on the silky bed sheets this time, it's miles better than you dreamt it to be. 

Silco wastes no time undressing you, having pulled your shirt off on the way to the bed, he figures out how to unhook your bra pretty quickly. You shouldn't be too surprised, those fingers are seriously skilled at everything they do. Once they're off, he dives to catch one of your breasts in his mouth, teeth grazing sensitive nipples. You take rapid deep breaths as you watch him devour your chest, creating bite marks that you'd definitely admire later. The wanting between your legs is overwhelming, but so is the one in your chest. You affectionately thread your fingers through his hair, pulling on it when he bites down on your sensitive skin. You think you could come from this alone. 

When he's satisfied with the assault on your chest, he moves lower. Your skirt is unzipped and removed at an alarming speed and his face is between your thighs before you have a chance to protest. 

Warm breath fans over your underwear, still wet from your first orgasm. He pauses, eyes peering up at you in such an uncharacteristically serene manner that you almost think something's wrong. 

“I've thought about this before.” 

You tilt your head, eyelids heavy as you smile down at him. “Have you?” 

“You have no idea, darling. I've thought about you in positions much worse.” 

You bite your lip, “I know. I've thought about you too.” There's a silent, unspoken implication in your statement that you hope the breathlessness and aching look you give him convey well enough, you're not sure that you'd be able to push out the confession otherwise. His eyes flicker from your face back to your clothed cunt, deep in thought. Almost mindlessly, he reaches up to lace his fingers through yours. He does it on his left, you reach for both his hands, rubbing gently at his knuckles. If it weren't for the position, you'd lean down and kiss them. 

“You must understand how badly I've wanted this,” and you do, “you must understand that this isn't a mindless act of the body.” Your breath hitches at what he's implying, and you're thankful that he doesn't declare it just yet, because you think you'd explode under the weight of the feeling bubbling in your chest.

“I do, Silco. I feel the same.” 

‘We can talk about it later’ is unspoken, but well understood between the two of you. For now, you focus on the way his body feels against yours, the way he noses at the inner side of your thigh in a slow absentminded motion. 

“Are you going to eat me out or should I get up and leave, Sil?” 

That catches his attention, eyes snapping to meet yours. His fingers leave yours to curl possessively around your thigh, digging hard enough to leave marks. 

“Leave? I would never let you, not when I have you in my hands like this.” 

And oh Janna, did he have you in his hands. 

The first contact of his tongue against your folds has you arching your back in fervor, eager to meet his mouth with your core. His eyes flicker in amusement as he pins you down by the hips.

“Patience.” 

You whine, the amount of need circulating your body overwhelming your senses. He presses his tongue flat against you and licks another experimental strip; your chest heaves, heart beating erratically against your ribcage. The frustration has you untangling your fingers from his to grip onto the sheets. He glances up at you, a dangerous look playing in his eyes, and goes for another lick. 

You sharply inhale, “Silco.” 

His lips curl in amusement, “good things come to those who wait, my love.” 

You throw your head back and release a sound that's a combination of pleasure and frustration. Teasing, evil bastard. 

“You've waited a long time for this, haven't you?” You nod, feeling too frustrated to answer. “Tell me, dove, what made you snap this time? What gave you the audacity to wrap your lips around my finger so desperately, looking at me like I hold the key to all your desires?” 

Your skin feels impossibly hot, his warm breath fans over your exposed core but he makes no move to relieve you of your suffering, looking at you expectantly instead.  

“I had a dream,” you push out through gritted teeth, “I had a dream about you.” 

He draws lazy circles on the inside of your thigh, “have you? Did it feature such promiscuous positions?”  

You shake your head, smiling down at him, “worse, you fucked me in front of your mirror.” 

His breath hitches, pupils going wide at the mental image. He speaks slowly, entranced, “is that what you like?” 

“Maybe for another time,” your smile drops, “right now, I'd like you to fucking eat me out, please.” 

He chuckles, planting a toothy kiss on the inside of your thigh, “so impatient.” 

When his tongue makes proper contact with your pussy, you let out a wanton moan. The relief it provides is inexplicable, allowing you to melt back into the covers, his grip on your thighs keeping them wide open. Your hands travel down to thread through his hair, and you get the wonderful vision of dream-disheveled Silco as a very real projection between your thighs. 

“I always knew you were good with your tongue, Sil.” You sigh in bliss. He hums against your core, “gave it a lot of thought, have you?” 

“You have no idea.” 

His wet tongue rubs against your soft walls, eliciting more needy sounds from your throat. He eats pussy like an experienced veteran, silver tongue curling inside you to reach the deepest spots. If only he could always put it to such good use. 

His sharp nose rubs against your clit and your body jolts in pleasure. 

“Right there, Sil. Don't stop,” he looks up at you with dark eyes as you continue to beg in the neediest tone known to man, “please, don't stop.” 

And he doesn't. True to his nature, he has the stamina of a fighter, and if this is how good he eats you out, you look forward to what comes after. 

He works you with his tongue until you approach your second orgasm of the night. Your back arches in anticipation, grip tightening around his hair, all you can manage in warning is a breathless close that he responds to with more vigorous probing. His hands around your hips pin you down, resisting the relentless twitching that's evoked by his tongue moving inside you. 

You call out his name in desperate pleas, hips stuttering with every deep plunge into your cunt. His eyes meet yours from between your legs, practically glowing in enjoyment; your heart stutters at the sight, you don't know if you'll ever witness anything like this in your lifetime. He mercifully continues to rub at your clit, providing you with the release you've been begging for.

The tight rope inside you continues to curl and tighten further until it snaps, reverberating through your body like an intense war cry. You come with a broken moan that has you squeezing your eyes under the intense weight of pleasure, unshed tears wetting your lashes.  

Silco squeezes your thighs, silently asking you to look at him, and you shakily comply, allowing him direct eye contact while he fucks you through your high. 

He detaches from you within a few seconds, and the affection swelling in your chest has you pulling at his vest to pull him up for a bruising kiss. You taste yourself on his tongue, the evidence of your orgasm mixing into your shared spit. When you pull back, you're met with his wonderfully disheveled and flushed face, and you notice— with great amusement— that you've rubbed some of his foundation off on your thighs. 

Your eyes trail down to his clothed chest, you realize that there's a great disequilibrium between your states of undress. Your hands rise to trace the gold in his clothes, all the way up to his collar. 

“Will you take this off?” You tug at his clothes, “please, I'd like to see you.” 

You're aware that it's a big request, that his bare body would put him in such a vulnerable position that he would never recover from if this doesn't go well; but you're not quite sure what ‘this’ is either, between the lust you feel in your core, and the love beating in your chest, the one feeling that courses through you is ‘want’. 

You want him naked, vulnerable, offering himself to you just as you have to him. 

He looks torn, hesitant.

Your hand creeps up further to brush at what little skin is exposed from his neck. Slow tentative movements over the sensitive area has him twitching in your hands, but he doesn't move away. Your hands creep higher to settle around his neck, feeling for the physical and emotional scar that was left there ages ago, but still burns as if recently instilled. 

Discussions about Vander have been few and far in-between, and you understand the wound still runs deep. For a minute, you're afraid that he's going to turn away from your touch when his breath catches in his throat at the incidental scratch of your nails, but he relaxes in your grip when you continue to rub soothing patterns over the sensitive skin. 

With what power you have, you trace mindless circles on his shoulders, leaning forward to plant soft kisses along his collarbones. “It’s okay.” You kiss upwards, drawing closer to the junction of his shoulder and neck. His breath hitches as you draw closer to the sensitive skin, but he tilts his head back and allows you unspoken access anyways. 

Trust is not easy to come by, especially with someone like him, but the sight of Silco practically melting in your hands while you trace over his most sensitive scar, it feels like a bond even deeper than trust. 

The need to be brave for him, to lay yourself bare— even more than being entirely naked under him— is imminent. You take a deep breath before your fingers hook together behind his neck and pull him down for another kiss, once more for courage. 

“I like you, Silco,” you speak against his lips, glistening with the proof of your kiss. “I like you a lot, and there's nothing you can say or do that will make me like you less.” Your eyes trail up to his own, the next words feeling much more serious than you intend, “I like you so much that nothing you can show me now will make me turn away.” 

It's a reckless promise, a heated confession that admittedly just follows the weight of the moment without much previous thought. Later, you'd have to enforce the idea of boundaries, the things that he isn't allowed to do, but something in your head tells you that you weren't lying. Regardless of what he does, you don't see yourself ever walking away. 

His gaze softens, the hesitant look from earlier replaced by a prominent ache, the aftermath of a healing wound. 

“Ever the sweet talker, dove.” 

You smile, “only for you, Sil. Only for you.” 

He draws back, moving to undo his vest before he halts, instead reaching for your hands. 

“Would you like to help?” 

Your eyes twinkle with mirth, “please.” 

Slender fingers wrap around yours, guiding you to undo his tie, take off his vest, push his shirt off his shoulder. You appreciate the sight of his bare, scarred chest, running your fingers across his torso. You lean forward to plant a few soft kisses on his shoulder while you attempt to undo his pants without looking. 

You’re forced to draw back with a laugh when you undeniably fail. 

“Your pants are killing me.” 

He huffs a light laugh, “it takes a moderate amount of skill, dearest,” something flickers in his eyes, “you'll gain experience in no time.”

Your heart squeezes at the implication. You watch as he illustrates how to undo those buttons, burning every movement to memory. Once the pants are off, you reach for his underwear eagerly, grunting out a finally that only amuses him further. 

Within a few seconds, he's back on top of you and you're both equal parts naked this time. You wrap your legs around his waist, secure him against you as you exchange more open mouthed kisses. He grows harder against you, rubbing against your thighs and wet, sensitive cunt. You groan into his mouth and he takes it as a sign to reach between your legs and position himself properly. 

Your arms squeeze around his shoulder when he slips in. His girth is impressive for someone of such stature and it has you gasping for air. He raises his head to look at your face as you take him in, allowing you the glorious vision of his ruined, flushed face— he's continuously coming undone under your touch. Janna, you could watch him like this forever. 

Your fingers dig crescent moons into his pale skin once he begins moving inside you. It starts out slow, he enters all the way until you're taking him to the hilt and then allows you the pleasure of slow thrusts. Needy moans bubble in your throat as your grip on his shoulders tighten so much that you think you're about to draw blood, giving him a more pleasurable sort of scar. 

“It's been hard holding back around you lately,” he whispers against your lips. “You're impossibly alluring when you want to be.” 

You kiss him once more, “how do you think I feel?” He chases your lips when you part but you speak again, “how long has it been for you?” 

“Since the day I took in Jinx.” He drops his head into the crook of your neck, almost like he's shy, “and for you?” 

You wrap your arms around his neck, “since the day we met.” 

He breathes a light laugh against your skin, you continue. “No seriously, I'd have fucked you back then if you initiated anything. Men with scars are lethally sexy.” 

“Aren't you lucky, then.” 

He bites into your neck, eliciting a soft moan from your mouth, and sucks until you're sure it forms a nice satisfactory bruise. He licks the sensitive skin and moves to other sites to plant more marks. “Always knew you were a biter,” you say breathlessly, throat constricting under his hot mouth.

Once he's done with his assault on your neck, he stands tall and you watch something shift in his expression. The soft, loving look is replaced with something hungry and dangerous, it has you squeezing around his cock. 

“You've waited so patiently,” he hooks your legs higher around his middle, “I have to make sure I live up to your expectations.” 

And then something is set off inside him, because his pace changes from soft and romantic to goddamn animalistic. His pace speeds up, drilling so deeply inside you that you think you feel him in your stomach. Your fingers dig into his back for some sort of grounding ritual but it only makes him groan right into your ear and the sound travels down to where you're connected. You can barely catch your breath. 

“You, oh my gods, you exceed expectations, Sil.” 

“Oh, I know, darling, the way your cunt squeezes around me is proof enough.” 

Every obscene word goes right to your core and you feel him tugging on every sensitive string in your body. It's much more than that dream— gods that stupid, wonderful dream that had started the cascade of events that lead to this. There was no need for dreams anymore, his cock inside you was very much real and it was throbbing with need, one that you matched in your own core. 

His arms are on either side of your face as he fucks the living daylight out of you, and you turn and burry your teeth in his left hand to feed some of the gnawing need in your core. You think it would be delightful if you could have more of him in your mouth, you consider if you should bite down until you draw blood but you choose to be kind this time. You can save it for the next few times, something he seems to be planning as well. 

You turn back to face him and find yourself grinning stupidly at the knowledge that you're going to get this sight again, and again, and again, until you are either satisfied or dead. And if you happen to die during it, that'd be even better. 

“Dirty girl, smiling to yourself while you take my cock. What are you thinking of?” 

“I'm thinking of how beautiful you are, and how you're going to fuck me over and over again until we're both satisfied.” 

He releases a low groan, hips stuttering momentarily before he picks up the pace again, slamming against your bare ass with newfound vigor. 

“You're going to be the death of me.” 

Then he leans down and catches your mouth in one last sloppy kiss, tongue assaulting yours in a similar fashion to his cock assaulting your cunt. You wrap your arms around his neck once more, whining pleas into his open mouth. The pleasure in your lower abdomen is overwhelming, overstimulated by his bruising kiss and arms coming around you. 

It accumulates, all the sensations and the continuous coiling in your pelvis, until it explodes. The ecstasy washes over your body in waves, making you gasp against Silco’s mouth as you come undone. It shakes your whole body and for a second you think you see stars in the glowing orb of his damaged eye. He's endlessly beautiful, even as he brings you to your ruin. 

He continues to fuck you through your orgasm and long enough to reach his own, too. He finishes inside, spilling himself deep within you, making you shudder at the sensation. He doesn't stop until he's completely soft inside you. 

It's severely disappointing when he pulls out, but you understand that you can't be joined at the hips forever without an unfortunate lab accident. Instead, you settle for his embrace when he puts an arm around your shoulder, cuddling into him— two sweaty heaving bodies and an uncertain future. 

When he traces invisible patterns into your bare skin and leans down to kiss your forehead though, it doesn't really matter. 

It especially doesn't matter when you look up at him with a smile that matches his own, and it doesn't matter even more when that smile of his turns into a smirk at his next words.  

“If that's what one dream can do, I look forward to the rest of them.”

Lovely illustration for silco being an #eater right here ♡

[vividly-vermillion]

✴︎ CAUGHT RED HANDED PART 3

જ⁀➴ The LADS guys catch you masturbating.

ﾉ including: Rafayel

ﾉ cw: afab!reader, no pronouns, masturbation, phone sex if you will, hinted to more happening

ﾉ wordcount: 0.9k

ﾉ info: I need that fishstick badly someone swaddle me in a blanket please ﾉ Requests are open!

LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THOUGHT IN COMMENTS & REBLOGS!

-> Xavier | -> Zayne | -> Sylus (coming soon)

✶࿐ Rafayel

♡ You planned on going to Rafayel’s place later that day since he said he'd be busy until the afternoon doing who knows what.

♡ Your day on the other hand looked kind of bland, nothing in your calendar except going to Rafayel - a nice and lazy day off in other words.

♡ After cleaning your apartment and taking a shower the boredom started to hit you and your hands wandered faster than your mind.

♡ You bit your lip when your hand started sneaking beneath the fabric of your shirt, gently pinching and rolling your nipples until they were stiff and sensitive to touch.

♡ The dampness in your panties was evident long before you hooked your fingers into the waistband of them to tug them down your legs.

♡ Today was calm, nothing on your schedule and you decided to treat yourself nice and slow, gentle and teasing touches to get you wet and desperate for release.

♡ When your touches weren't enough anymore, you reached into the drawer of your bedside table, getting your favorite vibe out to help you find release

♡ The soft buzzing against your clit left you a moaning mess, whines, gasps and messy moans of his name

♡ Rafayel... little did you know that your phone picked up his name one too many times, his name showing up on your screen but you didn't see - couldn't see with the way your eyes screwed shut in pleasure

♡ Rafayel almost dropped his phone into the water of his mid day bath, getting a small heart attack from the sudden call

♡ "Can't you text me first? What if I fell and broke my ankle... again?" He exaggerated dramatically once he picked up but in reality he was glad you were thinking about him

♡ When he didn't hear anything back from you he started to get worried

♡ "Helloo? Did you forget that you need to speak when you call someone?" He asked and huffed out some air when he suddenly heard your sweet moan.

♡ The breath got knocked out of his lungs and his phone did fall into the tub this time, simply slipping from his grip. His concern wasn't the phone - it was waterproof anyways.

♡ His concern was missing another moan of his name followed by the low buzzing of what he assumed to be a vibrator.

♡ If anyone would see him right now, he would blame the blush on his cheeks on the hot water but the way you sounded while touching yourself really took him off guard.

♡ He knew he should hang up, knowing you didn't call him on purpose and he was breaching your privacy right now... but was he really? He was all what you were thinking about after all.

♡ His cock was rock hard from your sounds and he could picture how you must lay on your bed right now, clothes discarded and how pretty you must look right now with your skin glowing so beautifully.

♡ "fuck..." he grunted softly when his hand wrapped around his shaft to give it a few tentative tugs before settling for a slow speed to match your moans.

♡ Rafayel was completely enthralled in your moans, his own whines and moaned words mixing with yours and painting pictures in his head.

♡ Just as you came with a cry of his name, the buzzing getting stronger almost had him losing his mind entirely.

♡ "yes! Just like that... ngh... don't stop, cutie" he moaned, his voice cracking at his nickname for you, so so close to his own release as your last moan echoed in his head.

♡ "RafaYEL??" You almost squeaked out when you heard his voice muffled through your phone, followed by soft moans.

♡ Rafayels eyes widened when he heard his name like this but it was too late - his orgasm washing over him and he couldn't even hold the moan inside.

♡ You should have hung up but his moan sounded so desperate for you, a slight whimper following and you wished that a sound could get engraved inside your brain to play it over and over again.

♡ Once Rafayel caught himself from the pleasure and the shock that followed he wanted to hang up, pretend like it never happened but he knew that you'd come over later that day. And there's no way that he could keep his hands from you now that he knew that you were thinking about him too.

♡ "You called... it would have been rude to ignore your call... you could have been in danger," he mused and you saw the blush on his cheeks through the phone, that pretty shade of red you've grown to love.

♡ "I think you should come over sooner," he added eventually when he was met with silence on your end.

♡ The vibrator was still buzzing somewhere in the sheets but you paid it no mind once the bold words entered your ears.

♡ "weren't you busy all day?" You asked as you sat up against the headboard, slowly realizing that Rafayel got off to you touching yourself.

♡ "Well I am! Taking a bath and all that..." he tried to protest but heard your soft laugh at the other end

♡ "Think your bathtub is big enough for two?"

[evesbookshop]

𝐌𝐢𝐱𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬, 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐧𝐬𝐟𝐰 𝐬𝐨 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐩𝐥𝐬 𝐬𝐤𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐚𝐝𝐥𝐞 ❤︎︎

✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿

Izuku Midoriya who starts knitting as physical therapy after his last battle. Who by the time he’s a teacher has insane hand dexterity and is ambidextrous. Whose friends all have their own knit versions of their own merch. Who knits both you and himself little braided rings you both use as place holders until you marry. Which is extremely helpful cause he can just keep remaking his when it falls off without his knowledge or breaks

Izuku Midoriya, who always feels absolutely horrible when he does loose or damage one of these knit rings. And so he spends a few hours when he gets home wrecking you on extremely skilled fingers while whispering compliments and apologies in your ear. “You forgive me don’t you, baby?” Knowing you can’t see straight let alone form works.

Katsuki Bakugou, who despite being an absolute monster with Spicey food , cannot handle even a little sour. Who claims it’s just nasty , and won’t touch one with his friends around. Who falls victim when you give him a war head in place of a regular hard candy and whole face turns red just to twists in shock and betrayal before running out the room to spit it and and definitely not puke.

Katsuki Bakugou who’s a spiteful bastard, and so the next time you have sex, in the middle of moan you find lemon juice being squeezed into your mouth. Shock causing you to yelp and the juice to leak out your mouth. It’s okay though because despite hating the taste, he finds that it’s not so bad when he’s licking it off your throat.

Shoto Todoroki, who’s dense but not nearly as much as people think he is. It took a him a while to figure out he didn’t just really want to be your friend, and then stop ignoring you after the fact. But otherwise very aware of social ques and habits. Who was literally media trained as a child, but he just thinks it’s funnier to blurt things out that should probably stay private. Who acts very lost sometimes but only when it’s beneficial and gets people to leave him alone. And who after getting into a relationship doesn’t do it in private, because he refuses to lie or anything close to you.

Shoto Todoroki who despite not liking to play dense with you in day to day life is more then willing to use it against you in bed “oh right here ? Did that feel good? I’m sorry I can’t quite understand you , love?”

Eijiro Kirishima, who’s a tank of a man , the epitome of typical masculinity out side of his tender personality. Who also eats up trash reality television. Big brother, real house wives, keeping up with the kardashians, toddlers and tiaras, and the holy grail- Jersey Shore. He who has matching meatball shirts with you and that same pair of studded out sunglasses. And who because of said tv shows, has the nastiest reads in the book. A list shit talker when no one’s looking.

Eijiro Kirishima, who comes home one day to see you in the skimpiest outfit known to man, covered in leopard print. And finds himself more horny than he’s ever been in his entire life. Who is in the apartment for maybe 2 minutes before he has you face down, bent over the couch arm.

Denki Kaminari, who’s is actually a little dense and struggles with numbers and letters, due to dyslexia they caught late, but loves to consume literature. Who is might as well be a walking audible commercial. Who is an avid Colleen Hoover hater. Who eats up all sorts of books from biographies to the most jaw dropping smut books ever. Who because of his vast online book collection, is actually really smart just about oddly specific things and people.

Denki Kaminari who drags you into the bedroom because he’s trying to figure out a really oddly worded position in a book, and lets you reap the benefits of his confusion.at least when he gets it right, for the first half it’s mostly maneuvering around each other while listening to the same part of the book in utter confusion.

✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿

𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 ❤︎︎