#maybe a good cry as well. it’s been a day

[shinningdance]

Made with love

this is a part two of this :)) but it can be without part one!!

roommate au, my beloved ♡♡♡

warnings: none, pure fluff

The door slams behind you, locking with a small 'click'. The jacket you were wearing only a minute before is now laying on the floor, along with your shoes.

It was just so unfair. The Competition on who gets 2 days paid time off was supposed to be an easy win. You made the best Steak with mashed potatoes on the side, followed by the most delicious apple pie. Your co-workers were also not best cooks, making your win even easier. Yet you still lost, only because your boss was rating the foods and he had to choose his son, who cannot cook to safe his life. Who even pairs instant noodles with Asparagus?! But apparently his food was so delicious he won the competition with ease. And that jerk had the nerve to say to you he was 'just better than average". As if you're average, you're well above that, according to your four roommates who devoured your food.

Speaking of your roommates, one of them stares at you while you storm to your room, ignoring his confused questions. Normally you wouldn't ignore him, any of them really, but you would never ever ignore Kyle, he's always the first one to help you out with anything you might need. Need someone to proofread an e-mail? You go to Kyle. Need someone to talk to? Kyle it is. Need someone? Kyle.

You enter your room and, just like with the front door, slam your door shut. Turning the key to the right, you look it. Not that any of the guys would enter without knocking and waiting for you to say it's alright to enter. You sink down to the floor, clutching your bag to your chest. It's a bit silly to cry over something so silly, it's not like it was a promotion, it was just a silly work Competition. Unfair but still small.

Maybe what set you off were all those small things that happened. Spilling your coffee over yourself right before a big meeting, getting ignored through the entire said meeting, working through lunch - meaning going hungry, and last but not least, that stupid cooking thing.

With a heavy sigh you lift yourself up from the ground and head right towards your bed. You don't bother changing your clothes, just slipping right under the covers and closing your eyes. Maybe sleep will cheer you up for a bit.

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While you were sleeping Kyle went through every conversation he had with you in the last 24 hours, trying to figure out what he did for you to ignore him.

He couldn't figure it out. He always said good morning and good night, he left you your favorite food in the fridge after you got home from work and he saved you from a spider. He looked just like a kicked puppy sitting on the couch, a random show playing in the background.

He had to be sitting there for quit some time because the other three man had been starring at him since they got back home. 5 minutes of starring at Kyle until he finally acknowledged them.

"Did any of you piss off our bird?" he questions the three man locking at him, all of them re-stocking the kitchen after their grocery trip.

"Not that i can remember, last time i saw her, she was smiling like she had no care in the world." John answers quickly, making sure no one can blame him.

"Not me either" Simon replies, giving no explanation.

Three pair of eyes land on a specific Scot, who's currently showing the last remains of your pie down his throat.

He looks up, eyes turning wide as e speaks with a full mouth. "what? i dinnae do anythin'!" He claims as he swallows the pie.

"Are you sure? Like..100%?" Kyle asks while looking towards your bedroom door.

"ay! 100% swear on ma mama" Johnny nods, hoping they'll belive it.

"Then what did piss her off?" John asks, rubbing his forehead in confusion.

"no idea...wasn't today her cooking thing at work?" Kyle questions, looking at the three men again.

"it was." Simon confirms, nodding along. "But there's no way she didn't win." He grunts, placing the milk in the fridge.

"If she did win, she wouldn't react like this." John mumbles, trying to figure out what happend.

The four of them continue to try and solve this puzzle, to no success.

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You woke duo a loud crash, most likely metal falling to the floor. You groan and grab your pillow, putting it over your head. How long did you sleep? It could be 5 minutes or 5 hours, who knows.

A soft knock on your door destroys your plan of getting more sleep. You groan once more, making sure whoever is outside knows your pissed.

"What?" You question, voice muffled by the pillow.

"It's just me, dove." John calls back, voice soft like always.

"What?" You repeat, not wanting to have a conversation right now.

"...Please come out, we prepared something for you." John sighs, most likely pressing his forehead against the door like he always dose when trying to get someone to open up.

They prepared something?

you sigh and very slowly crawl out of bed to unlock your door.

John almost laughs as he sees your state, still in work clothes but very messy, even your hair is a mess.

"Don't even start." You warn him.

John raises his hands in mock surrender, smile on his lips. "Why don't you get changed, something comfy."

Another sigh leaves your lips as you close the door, right in his face.

You change into your pj's, the most comfy thing you own. You open the door again and John is still standing there. With a hand on your back he leads you to a battlefield, or that's just what it looks like. In reality it's just the kitchen in a very messy state. The smell of food fills the air and Kyle appears, a almost shy smile on his face.

"Listen, we really tried to make you food, we really did, but..we kind of failed." He laughs and takes your hand, guiding you towards the couch.

Lots of blankets and pillows, popcorn in a huge bowl and Johnny and Simon already in their seats.

"So we got Pizza, your favorite." He smiles and brings you to johnny, making you sit between him and Simon.

Johnny is immediately clinging to your side, chin on your shoulder as he smiles up at you. "You dinnae have to say why you're upset, you just have to relax an' enjoy the food we got you."

You simply nod, touched by their actions. Almost on cue your stomach starts growling, reminding you that you skipped lunch.

"Got thing we got this then." John smiles and places the carton of Pizza on your lap.

"thanks.." You mumble and pick up one piece, enjoying every second.

After a short bit of silence conversations started flowing like usually. Everyone was eating pizza while watching a movie of your choice, throwing in a comment every now and then.

"I lost the cooking thing at work." You mumble, quietly but loud and enough for them to hear.

It was funny watching Johnnys face, the pure shock on his face.

"You? Wha-?" His mouth opens and closes like a fish.

"How is that even possible?" Kyle questions, showing a bit of popcorn into his mouth.

"The winner was the bosses son." You shrug, watching all of them connect the dots.

"Well you definitely won our votes." Simon confirms, watching the way your eyes light up.

"So you would't mind having to be lab rats for my next time cooking?" You smile and this time watch as all their eyes light up.

"Not at all, it would be an honor." John confirms.

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a/n: not proof read!! Like always i gave up towards the end :))

[galaxy-stardust]

Simon Ghost Riley x you

It's your birthday

You should have been happy today. Your friends and family had gathered to celebrate your birthday, there were smiles, laughter, and a cake with your name on it. But no matter how much you tried to enjoy the moment, there was an ache in your chest, a shadow lingering at the back of your mind.

Simon wasn’t here.

You knew he had a mission. You knew his work wasn’t something he could just walk away from, even for your birthday. But that didn’t make the empty space beside you feel any less cold.

Throughout the day, you kept checking your phone, hoping for a message—something. But the screen stayed dark, and with every passing hour, the heaviness in your heart grew.

By the time you said your goodbyes and stepped into your empty home, exhaustion and disappointment weighed you down. You dropped your keys on the table with a sigh, kicking off your shoes, ready to just crawl into bed and forget this day even happened.

But then you noticed something.

The lights were dimmed, and there was a soft glow flickering from the living room. Your heart skipped a beat as you took slow steps forward, eyes widening at the sight before you.

Candles. A bottle of wine. And on the coffee table—a small black box with a note resting on top.

Your hands trembled as you picked up the folded paper, recognizing Simon’s handwriting instantly.

"Happy Birthday, love. Sorry I couldn't be there to celebrate with you. But turn around—I wouldn't miss this for the world."

Your breath caught as you turned sharply—only to be met with the sight of Simon, standing in the doorway, his gear still on, his mask pulled up just enough to show the smirk playing on his lips.

“Miss me, sweetheart?” he murmured, his voice low, teasing.

For a second, you couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. The weight of the day, the longing, the disappointment—it all melted away in an instant.

And then you were in his arms.

Simon caught you with ease, his strong arms wrapping around you, holding you tight against his chest. His scent, his warmth, the solid feel of him—it was all so overwhelming that you barely noticed the tears welling up in your eyes.

“You came home,” you whispered against his shoulder, gripping onto him like he might disappear.

“Told you I wouldn’t miss your birthday,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Had to pull a few strings, but I’m here now.”

You pulled back just enough to look at him, your hands cupping his face. “Best birthday present ever.”

His lips curved into a smirk, his eyes dark with something deeper, something possessive. “That’s not your present, love.”

Your breath hitched as he reached for the small box on the table, pressing it into your hands.

“Open it.”

With shaky fingers, you lifted the lid, revealing a delicate silver necklace—a small charm in the shape of a skull hanging from the chain.

Your eyes flickered up to his, your heart pounding. “Simon…”

“It’s mine,” he murmured, taking the necklace from the box and moving behind you. His fingers brushed against your skin as he clasped it around your neck. “So even when I’m not here, you’ve got a piece of me with you.”

Tears pricked your eyes again, but this time, they were from something warm, something overwhelming.

You turned back to him, your hands fisting in his jacket as you pulled him down into a deep, lingering kiss. Simon groaned against your lips, his arms tightening around you, as if he needed you just as much as you needed him.

“You gonna cry, love?” he teased against your mouth, his voice rough, amused.

You sniffled, laughing softly. “Maybe.”

He chuckled, brushing his lips over yours again. “Good. Means I did something right.”

And as he led you to the couch, pulling you into his lap, you knew that no matter how far away he had been, no matter how long the distance—Simon Riley would always find his way back to you.

[bitchface24-7]

Sequel to the pregnancy fic but this time baby no.2 is Jayces?

OOPS WE DID IT AGAIN! - JAYVIK X READER

synopsis: this time it wasn't a fuck up. James is four and keeps asking for a younger sibling. He’ll take good care of them he promises! You, Jayce, and Viktor have been planning to have a second one anyway. James looks just like his one dad, maybe baby number two will look just like the other…

warnings: pre-established relationships, kid oc, everything revolving around pregnancy, Grammarly as my beta

genre: m/m/f

p.s. Looks like none of the babies you have look like you… oh well! LMAO

James has been badgering you three ever since he started school to get a younger sibling. Every day he comes home and looks around your home, expecting a little brother or sister to be waiting for him.

That was the final nail in the coffin. The three of you have been debating on having another kid. You have the space, the funds, and the time to have one; James’ cute pleas sealed the deal.

So on one of his school days, ensuring he was out of the house, the three of you gave into his wishes.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

You don't know if they're highly fertile or if you are because before you know it, you're pregnant.

James is ecstatic! He keeps asking how long until his sibling arrives and you three have to keep reminding him that it’s going to take about a year. He always pouts and crosses his arms at that.

You go through all the pain and uncomfortable feelings again, but it'll be worth it. James is a miniature Viktor, literally. Its like you copy-pasted them. You can't help but imagine what a mini Jayce would be like.

You subtly pray that this child is just that. You've gotten to see the wonderful mix that is you and Viktor. Now you want to see the mix of you and Jayce.

James is already looking to be a great big brother. He's separated some of his toys, favourite books, and has even placed aside one of his favourite stuffies to give to his younger sibling. The three of you can't help but gush and coo over how sweet your boy is.

As your pregnancy stretches on, near the end the three of you sit James down for a small talk. You explain to him that your attention won't be fully focused on him anymore. That babies need help to do everything. James looks shocked, even asking if they need help to poop.

You laugh as Viktor and Jayce just look shocked. “Yes sweetheart. Sometimes they get colicky, or constipated and we need to help them poop.”

“Ew.”

James face screams disgust and you laugh harder at that, scooping him up and cuddling him to the best of your abilities. He doesn't fight you.

“Even though we may be more busy now with a baby, you're always our baby too. Never forget that. We’ll make sure you still have your own personal time with us.”

As you say this, Viktor kisses James’ forehead and Jayce ruffles his hair. James giggles and nods, “Ok! So… when's the baby coming out of mums tummy?”

Viktor and Jayce look at you and then at James, “Maybe a week?”

Jayce nods. James squeals. Finally! His best friend is coming!

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

The labour was intense, but in the end, you pushed through it. You're sweaty, tired, and desperately want a mommy-mocktail.

Viktor was with you in the delivery room, Jayce and James waited just outside to be let in. Giving birth can be scary, and you didn't want to scare James.

A nurse ushers your other husband and your son into the room, just as the doctor exclaims, “A healthy baby girl! Congratulations!”

The baby is swaddled in a pastel pink blanket as you hold her to your chest. You look down and feel yourself subconsciously smile.

James is Viktor’s copy. Your precious girl is Jayce’s.

Same eyes, same skin tone, same lips. Looks like she got your eyebrows, nose, and chin. She beautiful.

She’s perfect.

Viktor laughs lightly when he comes to the same realization. Jayce just looks like he's about to cry.

The moment is ruined by James.

“She looks ugly.”

“James!”

“What? She's all red and wrinkly. Are you sure you didn't give birth to an old lady rather than a baby?”

Viktor snorts, and then the rest of you follow suit. James looks incredibly proud of himself.

“You be nice to your sister James Talis. You're the one who begged for a sibling.” Jayce playfully scolds, and James puffs his face out in mock irritation.

“Fineeeeeee. What’s her name anyway?”

You looks to Jayce and smile, your eyes twinkling, “Rose. Her name is Rose Talis.”

That's what finally gets Jayce to break down in weepy tears. You and Viktor laugh lovingly at your husband; James is panicking trying to calm his dad down.

Now four has become five.

For all the smut I write y'all only got pregnant twice. I’d say that's a miracle LMAO

[ziminy]

Coming back to you

How to get back with your ex

Tags: smut, minors and ageless blogs do not interact, f!reader, normal au (because we suffered enough), my bbg Caleb the manipulative king he is (break me in half and all I'll say is thank you), implied stalking (if you squint), creampie, oral (f! receiving), fingering, marking, dirty talk, praising, size difference, little bit of crying, not proofread

Author's note: almost lvl 60 affinity with him, it was hard work and a lot of dedication. Trust me when I say I won't be able to recover financially from this any time soon.

Masterlist

Life was good when you were together, and somehow it even better after breaking up. It's not like your split up was messy, because you two parted ways on mutual accord, deciding that this isn't going to work since both of you were so busy lately. Why dragging the other down when you have your futures set?

In fact, the break up wasn't even supposed to be a break up, you were supposed to take a little break from each other that turned into a break up some time later. You said that you'd still be friends, that it's alright to talk and greet each other if you somehow managed to meet again.

But it was all lies. Both of you knew that. Because you never texted each other after that, and somehow you tried to avoid all the places he might be at. You don't really know why you're doing that, if just.. you feel a little uncomfortable looking back at what you two used to have.

Perhaps it was the way he looked at you, how he leaned down to talk to you, or that dumb smile that made your heart skip a beat.

He was caring, attentive, maybe a bit obsessive, perhaps a bit insane too. And maybe that what scared you, kept you away from dating again. Finding another one like him. God, what if you had the misfortune to wake up with another one like him at your door? You'd rather jump out the window than have the luck of getting another Caleb.

But he was good, in his own ways.

Well.. you can't really name any of his good traits at the moment, but he was a great guy. If you put aside his manipulative side, that he doesn't even try to hide to begin with.

You promised yourself to not fall for another guy like him, that empty words mean nothing to you. Threats had no effect, and you don't feel guilty anymore over things that you shouldn't be to begin with.

So, why was he here? You were supposed to meet with the old friend group, to reconnect and talk about the old days and how college used to be. I mean, he was part of the group, but why exactly was he here? And why did nobody told you he was coming?

"It's so good to see you guys!" one of your friends said, instantly jumping from person to person to hug.

"I feel like we're young again." someone else said, making you shake your head and let out a soft laugh. You can't show that you're affected, you're all grown now, you matured. He had no effect on you anymore. Even if it only been a year, you're still a different person that you were a few months ago.

"We aren't old to begin with." you said with a smile on your face. "How haves everyone been?" you sounded so calm, like you forgot how much stress was put on you back then. Everybody looks in much better shape after graduation, perhaps that place was rough for everyone.

"Let's just skip greetings and drink." of course there was that one person. "Caleb, you pay." everybody's eyes were on the tall man.

"You brought your wallet, no? Why should I pay." your eyes made contact for a moment, and you felt your face getting hotter. This night better go quick, because you don't know for how much longer you can handle this.

Everything was how it was back then, the way you sit in groups at the bar. How you found yourself next to the same girls you used to, deciding that you don't want to be loud and take it easy, just like before.

"So, how have life been for you? Haven't heard anything from you after we graduate." one of the girls looked at you, reminding you of how you chose to go no contact with everybody after your breakup.

"You and Caleb broke up? I thought you'd last a life time." is there nothing better to talk about?

"I'm a career woman now." you decided to change the subject, rather chosing to talk about work that your failed relationship.

"Oh?" why everybody looked so surprised was a mystery. But somehow you understood their reactions, you're also surprised you went this path.

"Got any boyfriends?" they still want to get info on your personal life, huh? Well, guess you won't be able to dodge that question any time soon.

"Nothing at the moment. Just focusing on work."

"I guess it's hard to date again. Normal guys must be so bland, not comparing to that piece of meat over there." you looked displeased with your friends choice of words. Yes, your ex might look good, but looks isn't what matters right now. Your well being was your top priority, and you enjoyed the freedom you had way too much.

"I'd be like that too if I had your ex. Imagine recovering from that." you don't even have to imagine.

"Is it even humanly possible to find somebody who's better than him?" their questions doesn't affect you, because you already know that you're the best you'd find. You understand and give yourself more than enough space that it's needed. So the right questions was if he will be able to find someone as good as you, because he won't.

"He's looking in this direction." the girls started giggling, and somehow, this was nostalgic.

Didn't this happened already? Before you started dating, right before you two confessed your feelings. Because somehow, you managed to do that at the same time. It was funny, if you're thinking about it. How you two were so in sync, you had no idea.

"Go talk to him." the girl next to you tried to push you, to make you get up and walk to the dark haired man.

"Don't want to." you kept avoiding any eye contact ever since you got in that bar. If you don't acknowledge him then he doesn't even exist to you.

"But he's looking at you." you grabbed the drink in front of you and gulped everything down your throat, trying to ignore him.

"Are you shy?" the girls started giggling again.

It was annoying. Why can't they understand that it's over? He understands this, so why can't they do it as well?

"We don't have anything to talk about."

"But he seems to want to?" it doesn't matter even if they point it out. It's been a long time already, you both moved on.

"Isn't there anything you want to tell him? Like things you didn't got the chance to while you were together?"

"This is the time to clear any bad blood between the two of you." but that wasn't necessary.

Frustrated, you looked in his direction. Eyebrows furrowed and biting on your lip so you wouldn't let out any curses you wanted to say at the moment. That classical expression, looking like he's good, even if there was no smile on his face, but he kept nodding to what his friends were saying. His eyes were betraying him however, those sleepy eyes, looking at you like you were more interesting, like he had to or else you'd evaporate from there or who knows what worse. It wasn't often when you'd see him like that, so you can't even answer your own questions on why he seemed like that.

No, if you payed attention to his surroundings, his friends might be annoying him. Saying something that he doesn't like, or.. they were talking about you. Just the way your friends were talking about him.

Was he feeling like that because he didn't want to talk to you either? No, you doubt that. It's probably because you refuse to give him any attention.

You turned to face the girls around you, who still seemed to push you to him. Maybe you should in fact go for it?

But, was there really anything that needed to be said? You don't have any regrets, you can't think of anything you want to say. And he's the same, even if he looked like he was holding back from time to time. You doubt he ever did something he's regretting. After all, you matched each other's freaks. You managed to stay together for that long just because you completed the other, understood yourselfs on a level no one else around you could.

Was this why you were pushed to him? Because everyone knew how well you fit each other?

You looked at your friends one more time, sighing as you finally gave up. You're still afraid to approach him, because he was still intimidating in a way you can't explain.

Or you can, because whenever you look at him you feel a chill down your spine. Your head was filled with stuff you said to him in the past, memories coming back to embarrass you, to make you forget what you want to do so you'd fuck up in front of him.

You stopped in front of him, staring at him as he looked at you. He still had that expression on his face, like you're still his softest spot, his weakness that makes him weak in the knees when he's around you. You opened your mouth, trying to say something but then forgetting everything once you looked into his purple eyes.

You can't be like this forever, you had to step up your game. You really had to move on, and maybe that's what you have to talk with him. Because he seems to be stuck in the past too. "You have time?" you noticed the way he almost raised his hand, to grab onto you and drag you closer like he always did. But he held back, because he knew this wasn't the time.

"Yeah." he tried to keep it nonchalantly, but you could see past his poorly executed facade. Should you feel happy with how you still affect him? You feel like you could laugh.

"Wanna talk outside?" you don't even know why you said outside of all places. You wanted to stay inside, where everybody else was. You wanted to have a reason to keep it cool, to not lose yourself in your emotions, because you know you'll fuck up if you're alone with him.

He got up, standing much taller than you as he followed you quietly. Seriously, this was like a deja vu. You still remember how you used to follow him just the way he's doing now. Not questioning a thing, and trusting him a bit too much. But you also had no idea where you're going. All you know is that you want to go outside, take some fresh air, say a few words and then go back to your friends.

For a moment, he got in front of you, opening the door and letting you walk out first. He used to do this all the time, didn't he? You almost forgot about it.

You walked a little further from the bar, resting your back against a building's wall as you looked at the sunset. No one said a thing, and the distance between the two of you was colder than the night's breeze.

"So.." a few words and then go back, that's all. You can go to your friends after this and rest. "How have you been." avoid eye contact, because you don't know when you'll fuck up, look forward, don't let yourself be distracted.

"Busy." his voice still makes something in your head ring, like a little bell that seems to not calm down until he said so. "You?"

"Busy." you couldn't even think of what to say, just biting your lip in frustration.

It was quiet again, like both of you forgot how to communicate.

For a moment, you looked to your left, at where the bar was, and then at him, catching him staring at you with a expression you can't quite explain. Sadness? No, it was a mixture of sad and frustration. And you understood him. He had you this close, next to him, and yet he couldn't do anything.

"You're bigger than I remember." you don't even know why you said that. It's just.. he looks different and you can't exactly say what it was.

"I stopped growing a long time ago." he kept looking at you, at the way you were scanning him for anything that it might have changed. "Maybe you're the one who shrinked." he extended his hand, he doesn't really know why, but it seemed alright in that moment. Like he knew you wouldn't run anymore. "My hands are still the same."

You looked at his palm, at his long fingers and at the way he looks so familiar, yet new. Like you forgot how his body looked for a moment, like you were back in the past before you two started dating. Because you did this back then too, you were in this situation before.

How he was trying to tame you, let you touch him just the way you want, explore and discover more. All just to show you how inoffensive he is, that he's not a threat.

And you bite the bait every single time. Taking his hand in yours, slowly touching it just to see if it was indeed like what you remember.

You should put more effort if you don't want him back in your life. Just look at you, you look like you've missed him so so much. You shouldn't be this sweet or else you might not be able to break up again this time.

He tried his luck, interlocking his fingers with yours, and showing you more of that size difference you haven't seen in a while.

You don't reject him, his actions only made you be more curious. What else was he hiding? You looked up at him, only to see that expression again. You really didn't understand how his eyes can be just this dark, like there was absolutely no life in them, only a purple abyss that seems to drag you in towards him.

"It's getting dark." he said in a low voice, forgetting that he was supposed not to scare you for a moment. "Let me drive you home." he's the same as ever. Getting ahead of himself just because he was able to feel your perfume for once, the same scent that you had since back then. It suited you, and he missed it.

"Alright." he always knew how to calm you, let down your guard so he can get more under your skin. Or perhaps you were doing that voluntarily, because he doubts you'd be like this just for anybody.

The ride back to your place was quiet, only the radio on, playing some mainstream songs over and over again.

The silence was loud, but not uncomfortable. It was better this way because you had nothing to say. And he will not talk until you talk.

But once you got to your house, you somehow didn't wanted to get out the car just yet. It's just.. can't he stay? You don't know why you want him there, and you don't want answers to that.

"You're.." you played with your fingers. "You're not busy, right?" you avoided his eyes, or to look in his direction at all. This was all his doing, wearing that one fragrance that made your head spin, and the shirt that he knew was your favorite. "Want to come inside?" you're doing this on your own accord. Because he wouldn't push you over your limits like this, especially when you just met again after a long time.

You came to him, you talked to him, and you dragged him into your home on your own. He didn't do anything, this was all your doing.

You were brave enough to make the first move, so he might as well reward you for it, no?

You didn't looked surprised when you started kissing the moment the front door closed behind you, you also looked unfazed when he started taking off your clothes, now going towards your bedroom, looking for a bed so he could place you on it.

How could you forget this feeling? Or the way he used to take care of you. Always stopping you from lifting a single finger, not letting you do anything until you start begging him, or worse, do things without even warning him first.

"Tell me if it hurts." he placed a kiss on your cheek before going down, biting softly on your skin and leaving kisses all over the places he touched. He was going to mark all of your body, so people would see a part of him on you even if you're not together.

He stopped when he got to your pussy, leaving a kiss on your inner thigh, before placing his lips over your heat. He was going to scream, he missed this so much that he just couldn't help but let out a lustful moan deep from the bottom of his heart.

How could you left him? Take this away from him, leave him all alone to suffer. If he didn't craved so much for you he would have punished you for it.

"You're so tight." he said as he got two of his fingers inside.

"It's been a while since I did it." he looked up at you from between your legs, placing a kiss on your clit.

"Have you done it with someone else?" he was asking as if he didn't knew everything you did while he was gone. And yet, hes jealous.

"No." you shook your head. "What about you?" are you questioning his loyalty?

"Did you touched yourself?" if this was his way of changing the subject, then it wasn't working. Because it only made you want to ask the same thing, embarras him just the way he did to you.

"Did you?" he should feel embarrassed, ashamed or anything between those two, but no, it was just you who feeling that way.

"Every time I missed you." seriously, can he calm down for a moment. You can't take it. "You didn't do a good job." he said, licking on your clit as his fingers curled up. "But I guess you can't do much with those fingers of yours." you couldn't face him when he was saying such dirty words. "Did you had a hard time stuffing yourself? Don't worry, I'll do it for you from now on." you placed a hand over his face, to cover his eyes so he would stop looking at you.

"Don't look at me." you whimper. "It's embarrassing." you were always so easy to tease.

"Alright." he moved your hand away. "I'm sorry." he was in fact not, but if that's what you want to hear then he'll lie again and again, as long as you're happy.

Your pleasure was more important to him. So he focused on that, paying attention to the places that made you melt, on your soft voice and your touch. You're still so hesitant, like you don't really trust him, like you're still testing the waters.

What more do you want from him? What can he possible give that he haven't gave you already? You have his heart, you have his mind and soul, his well being is all yours, his body and everything he owns. So give him attention, touch him more and tell him that he's doing good because he's about to burst.

For a moment he looked up at you, just to see how you're doing, to check on you and make sure you're alright.

How did he lived for so long without looking at you was a mystery. Why he accepted you leaving him and trying to move on. Who else is going to make you feel like this? You need him, you needed his cock and his touch.

But he's not going to fuck up, since it's been a while since you last did it, he shouldn't push you. So, he placed a last kiss on your clit before taking his fingers out of you, leaving you panting and waiting for more. He didn't even let you cum, how mean of him.

Still, how dumb of him, to come here with nothing on him, not even a single condom. I mean, it wasn't really his fault because he never knew he'll end up like this.

"Take it off, your clothes." you were all naked while he was still fully dressed. He also looked like he wasn't planning on getting undressed any time soon and it was annoying you.

"I don't have any condoms." that was the problem?

"It don't matter." you took him by surprise. "Come here." you knew how rail him up. And you better not regret your decision later.

You looked at him taking off his shirt, his defined muscles jumping right into your face. You were right when you said he looked bigger, he must be working out a lot more lately. He took his pants off after, your eyes on his hard cock as he came back next to you.

"Relax." he said when he got between your legs. "Look at me." it would only be harder for you if you keep overthinking. Yeah, he was big, so what. He's going to give you all the time in the world until you adjust yourself to take him. It's gonna be hard at first, but it's going to be so much easier once he models your insides into the shape of his cock. And that's a promise, believe him.

He slowly pushed the head of his dick inside your wet core, making you move a little from how it was feeling, trying to find a better position. He lowered himself, now his chest pressed against yours, placing kisses all over your face as he kept pushing more of him inside your warm pussy. It's alright, take your time. He's not going anywhere, he'll wait until you're ready for him to move.

"You're doing good." he whispered in your ear, his hot breath tickling your skin. "I'm all the way inside, see? It doesn't hurt." it hurts a little, maybe more than just a little. But wasn't it normal when he was stretching you like that? But just as much as it hurts, it also felt good, in a way that left your mouth watering. He was going to be the end of you, really.

"Move." you ordered him, wanting to feel more. Just being stuffed to the brim wasn't enough, you needed much more than that.

He followed your orders, moving his hips slowly, paying attention to your next move.

You were so cute when you're sticking to him like that, holding onto his shoulders and trembling every time he touched that spot deep inside that he wasn't trying to touch to begin with, to not overwhelm yourself.

He's going to give you everything you want, there's no need to rush. If this was how much you can handle then that's how much he's going to give you. So why were you grabbing him like that, and asking for more? "Deeper." but you couldn't take it? You're going to say that he bullied you later, and he doesn't want to take the blame for something you made him do.

"You're sure?" you nodded, looking at him through your eyelashes with a pout on your face. Alright then, if that's what you want. How could he refuse you?

So he got deeper, hitting that spongy spot with long slow strokes that seems to work wanders on you.

He kissed you, again and again, to mark everything that missed his touch. To make sure you feel him, more than just inside.

"Is it good?" he asked as if he doesn't know your body like the back of his hand.

"Mm." you nodded, leaning in to feel more of his warmth.

"Then say my name. Let me know how good I make you feel." how could you forget he was like this. He always had to mark his territory as if you're not already his. But unfortunately for him, you're not in the mood to fulfill his desires. Screaming his name seemed nice, but at the moment all you wanted was to feel him, have him to yourself and let nobody know about your business.

Maybe his greedy side rubbed on you, or maybe it's the other way around. Or not, because at the end of the day you both knew that your unsolved issues can't be fixed that easy, and it can't be passed into the other when both of you are insane.

That's why you're trying to consume each other in other ways.

Kisses that seemed way too loving for someone who just got reunited after a long time. Touches that linger on the other's body even after moving away. Whispers and words that really makes it seems like you two were just a day apart, talking about moving with him, how you don't need anyone else but him. And at the moment you're too drunk on him to even realize that you're nodding, agreeing to every little degrading thing he's saying.

You want him, don't you? You missed him, you were such a mess without him. Right? Why did you permited him to leave when he's made for you. "I love you." that's the most normal thing he said tonight. "I love you, you heard me?" you heard him, but if you're giving him an answer that satisfies him, you'll never make him pay for the pain he caused you.

"You do?" you didn't sounded loving at all, even if your arms were wrapped around his neck, looking at him in the eyes with something only he saw before, your lust and obsession.

"I love you." he'll say it until you finally give up. Placing a kiss right next to your eye, he caged you in his arms, a hand under your ass and lifting up so he could go even deeper than before. Move in even more, since you said you wanted deeper. He'll show you places you didn't even know existed if you're asking for it.

He can't say that he's a brat tamer, because he's not. He likes everything about you, your sweet side, your mean and angry side. He likes it when you punish him, it shows him that you care. And if you believe that he's not doing enough to deserve your love just yet, then he'll do more.

He liked trying after all. And he'd be damed if he said that he doesn't want to show you just how far he can go. Because trust him, you can't handle it.

He's going to eat you, or even better, sacrifice him as you see fit. He wants to be inside you forever, be part of you. Because he feels like he's finally at home only when he's with you, in your arms. And when he's balls deep inside you? He's in heaven.

"Does it hurts?" he licked your tears away, wanting to taste them and claim them as his.

You nodded, feeling his cock twitching before moving in a way that got you throwing your head back. This fucker. He thinks that he can just do this to you and not pay a price? And perhaps sometimes he forgets how you can be so cruel, mean, and play with his feelings in a way only you could.

All he needs is a look from you, fluttering those eyelashes in a pretty way, and a sad expression that he can't resist.

You win, if you wanted him to fumble, then you win. He's all yours, do whatever you want with him because he doesn't have the ability to think anymore. "Cum with me?" what gives you the right to ask such a dumb question when you knew that's the only thing he wants. If you're not, the he's not doing it either. He knows he's asking for too much, but let the man dream.

"I'll fill you up nice and pretty, alright?" he made it sounded like a question, but you both knew he was just letting you know.

"Mm." you nodded, your lips smashing together the next moment. Eating each other out as you were both so so close. Touches becoming more and more desperate, his grip on so tight you won't be surprised if it leaves a bruise. But it's alright, because you feel like that's not quite enough.

More, you both needed more. And some heated sex after fucks knows how long won't be enough to satisfy the empty holes in you. You needed so much more.

Will you even be able to get out the bed tomorrow? Both of you. Because from the way you drag each other back, refusing to give up just yet was more than enough proof to show you won't step back any time soon.

But who knows, maybe you'll finally be happy by the time you both dry your energy out.

[allllium]

Hi! I'm not sure if requests are open, but if they aren't feeling free to ignore this.

So my birthday was on the more recent side (the 19th) and, most my birthdays (this year included) ive ended up crying and with everyone doing more important things so I end up with like maybe 1-3 people who celebrate it like a week late, and as a result I just don't tell people my birthday,,

So I was thinking sirius x reader where they're still both crushing on each other and he finds out he missed readers birthday for the aforementioned reasons jdkdkdksjdk

I'm sorry if it's a odd request, and it's totally chill if you don't do this. thank you for your time, and I hope you have a good day/night and don't forget to stretch, eat and drink some water!

~ this isn't an odd request at all, I get this feeling a lot. I have cried on every single birthday I can remember so I definitely get you. Either way I really hope you had a good birthday and hopefully the next one will be even better.

~ Fluff, Hurt/Comfort

Time to Celebrate

~ Sirius is very offended he didn't get to celebrate your birthday

You don't even know how long you've been friends with Sirius. One day his friend James, got a crush on your friend Lily, and the rest is history.

That being said, you've never told them your birthday. Year after year went by and you thought there was no point to bring it up. Telling them your birthday meant pressure and expectations. It meant being possibly being ignored and being alone once again even though you shouldn't be.

Over the years of growing closer to Sirius, he's never even asked. You don't blame him. He has a lot going on. You can't expect your birthday to be on his list of high priorities.

Sirius feels different.

The only friend that knows your birthday is Lily. You should've known this would happen eventually.

"What the bloody hell is wrong with you!" Sirius yells as he runs down the hall in your direction.

"Is that a trick question?" You ask, turning to face Sirius. "And is the running really necessary?"

"Why didn't you tell me about your birthday!?"

"You never asked." You say simply and wait as he slows to a walk and reaches you.

"That's a good reason and you know it. Explain please." He practically demands.

"I didn't think it was necessary. It's just a day."

"No it's not. It's a celebration."

"When's the last time you wanted to celebrate your birthday without James making you?"

"That's not the point!"

"It kinda is." You roll your eyes with a small smirk, and turn to walk away.

"But it's important." He follows right behind you. "You're important."

You stop walking for a split second, "It's just never been a big thing for me. I've never really had anyone to celebrate with." You shrug.

"But now you do." His voice has an upset tone laced somewhere in it.

"I know. I just- I didn't want to risk it."

He doesn't say anything for a few seconds. "Well come on then, we have a couple of birthdays to make up for."

He grabs your hand to pull you with him.

"Right now? We have class, Sirius."

"We have classes all the time, It'll be fine."

He takes you out of the school to get things like cake and decorations.

Something for every year he missed.

[triple-barred]

some excerpts from the first couple chapters of no easy answers by brooks brown

(transcript in alt text)

transcript for fourth image:

People will ask me what I remember the most about grade school with Dylan Klebold. Sadly, my strongest memory is of both of us kneeling on the floor of the Normandy Elementary School bathroom, bawling our eyes out as we took turns scrubbing a little girl's muddy jacket with a toothbrush.

It all started during recess. We were outside, playing in the leftover snow from a few days before. As we ran around, I found a big patch ofice that was starting to melt but was still plenty solid enough to play with.

"Hey, Dylan!" I said. "Come here!" By the time Dylan arrived, I was already bouncing and sliding on the slushy patch. Dylan gamely joined in, our feet smashing little spiderwebs into the ice as it buckled under our weight.

Dylan's boot crashed down on a corner ofthe ice and made the whole patch shift. It tipped into a puddle underneath, which splashed a good amount of muddy water into the air. A girl in our class was standing nearby, wearing a brand-new coat her parents had just given her; the mud left a jagged brown stripe right down the front of it.

It was an accident. We hadn't thought the ice was going to do that. But our classmate took one look at her ruined coat and started screaming.

The second grade teacher immediately ran over to assess what was happening.

"It was an accident," I tried to say. " We were just playing with some ice, and—"

"Don't you have any respect for other people's property?" I remember the teacher yelling at us. " Don't you? You two are coming with me right now." Dylan and I knew we were in trouble, but at the same time, we didn't understand why the teacher was so angry. It wasn't as if we had thrown the mud at the girl, or stolen her coat and rolled it around on the ground. Maybe we'd been a little careless, but that's all. It was still an accident.

We tried to get the teacher to listen to us, but she ordered us to be quiet as she carried the girl's coat into the bathroom.

Both of us were bawling by the time she had us at the sink, wetting a toothbrush. She put the coat in Dylan's hands. "I want this cleaned!" she ordered. " You two will stay in here and scrub that mud off and you're not leaving until I say you're finished!" Choking back our tears, we took up the brush and started working. We quickly discovered that using a toothbrush on mud wasn't very efficient but we didn't have any choice. Both ofus continued to cry, our ears burning red from the embarrassment of being yelled at, of our teacher's spiteful glare, of people looking at us as we worked.

"It's not coming out!" Dylan kept saying, rubbing the same spot for what seemed like the 500th time.

"We have to get it," I remember saying in response. I just kept repeating that. "We have to get it."

Judy Brown happened to visit the school that day to drop off something for her son during lunch hour.

"I was in the hall, and I ran into the teacher and she was red-faced mad," Judy recalls. "And I said, 'What's going on?'She said, 'Your son and Dylan ruined this girl's coat. He is in the bathroom right now, trying to clean it.'I asked when this had happened, and she said it had been over an hour before. She went and got Brooks to have him talk to me, and when he came out, he was in tears.

"So I took her aside, and I said, 'You know what, you're going a little too far with this,"" Judy continued. "I talked to Brooks and he said that he wanted to stay in school, that everything was okay: Well, I went to pick him up after school, and guess what? She had made them stay in there for the whole day, and now she was keeping them after school as well. She wasn't going to let it drop. This teacher was out of control, and it was over mud."

To this day, Judy is angry about the treatment of her son and his classmates in second grade, and not just because of the bathroom incident. "She expected these kids to be perfect," she says today. "And kids aren't perfect. But she would have none of it. She absolutely terrorized my child."

Scrubbing a coat in the bathroom may not have been such a bad thing by itself, but it was kind ofthe icing on the cake. Second grade had, from the beginning, been completely difierent from first grade. For Dylan and me, it was the first time in our young lives that we felt like an adult hated us.

[cheynovak]

Blurred Lines

Characters: Jensen Ackles x Y/N Female co-star     

Summary: Y/N is a friend and co-star of Jensen, they are friends, but what happens when one night, the lines of friendship seem to be blurry?

Warnings: Not much yet.

English isn't my first language.

*Please do not copy my work, reblog/comments/likes are appreciated*

---

The convention had gone well—plenty of laughs, nostalgia, and a few embarrassing stories shared on stage. But it was that one moment, the fan’s question about *The Boys*, that had stuck in Jensen’s head all day.

Danneel, ever the sharp-witted one, had laughed it off. “Pretty sure Jensen sees Y/N as a fourth child rather than a sexy co-star. He calls her kid all the time.”

The audience had roared with laughter, and Jensen had played along, nodding and keeping his mouth shut. He’d thought that was the end of it.

But now, hours later, his phone was buzzing at nearly midnight. Y/N’s name flashed on the screen.

Jensen frowned and answered. “Hey, kid—”

“Jensen,” Y/N cut him off, her voice breathless, panicked. “We have a problem.”

His stomach clenched. “What happened?”

There was a pause. Then she said, barely above a whisper, “Someone dropped a picture of us.” Jensen sat up in bed. “What kind of picture?”

“A bad one,” she said. “I—I don’t know where it came from, but someone got a shot of us… kissing.”

Silence.

Jensen felt the air shift, his mind racing through every possible scenario. It wasn’t like there were actually romantic feelings between them—right? Y/N was his friend. A good friend. He’d known her since she was just starting out. She’d played his lost adult daughter on a tv show, for crying out loud.

But things had changed when she’d been cast in 'The Boys'. Their characters had a… different relationship now. One that involved late-night shoots, a few too many teasing comments from the crew, and, of course, those damn scenes.

Scenes that had felt a little too natural at times.

Jensen exhaled. “Okay. First—where did you see this?”

“Twitter. Someone posted it, but it’s spreading. Fast.”

Jensen scrubbed a hand over his face. “Shit.”

“I don’t even remember this picture being taken,” she continued, voice rising with stress. “I mean, yeah, we’ve—” She cut herself off.

Jensen closed his eyes. Yeah. They’d kissed before. But off-screen? Only once.

A wrap party, after too many drinks, when they’d both been buzzing from the high of finishing a particularly grueling season. It hadn’t meant anything. At least, that’s what they’d agreed. They never talked about it after that night.

But apparently, someone had caught it.

“Okay,” Jensen said, keeping his voice calm. “We’ll get ahead of it. I’ll talk to my team, you talk to yours. Worst case, we chalk it up to method acting bullshit.”

Y/N let out a shaky laugh. “Yeah, because that won’t sound suspicious at all.”

Jensen smirked despite himself. “We’ll figure it out, kid.”

There was a beat of silence. Then, softer, she asked, “Jensen… are you freaking out?”

He hesitated. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “Are you?”

“…Maybe.” Another pause. Then Y/N sighed. “Guess we should’ve seen this coming, huh?” Jensen leaned back against his pillows, staring at the ceiling. Yeah. Maybe they should have.

Because maybe—just maybe—this wasn’t just a PR crisis.

Maybe it was something more.

---

*To be continued…?*

--

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[afantasyoffiction]

buddie fic recs, pt 2

yall i hit 250 posts a few days ago so here's the Updated Version of my first post! aka ive read and posted a fuckton of buddie content since then :)

also i still don't tend to read long novel length fics very often so all are under 100k (most aus being 50-100k), and most oneshots are 5-10k words

best aus

racing with the brakes cut by letmetellyluaboutmyfeels. holy shit holy SHIT this one was good. altered my brain chemistry good. fast and furious au that sounds like it should be unexpected but honestly is more in character than canon

friends don't mean nothing to me (its us) by Kwills91. buddie becomes friends before eddie becomes a firefighter, and its just done ugh so well it was so brilliant. like seriously spamming my friend's texts brilliant keep chortling to myself abt it brilliant just ugh so good

but i can see all along, love (it was you all the way down) by diazchristopher. time loop buck pov where he thinks he doesn't love eddie back and its goddamn delightful ok

your fingerprints smeared on my heart (lead my back to you) by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels. oh god oh GODS this one WRECKED ME. 1800s buddie soulmate au with modern buddie as well jfc i WENT INSANE. yep ive posted abt this one already and i probably will again jfcccccc

when the universe screams by bucksbelly. omfg girl dad buck au? njwnasjdbvjhlsdfbfjh good lord this one was AMAZING go read it go read it right now

our secret moments in a crowded room (they've got no idea about me and you) by allstarsneptune. jfc im only human ok u give me sports players taylor swift themed au and i EAT THAT SHIT UP this was brilliant and even made me tolerate a few baseball references

canon compliant (ish) feelings realisations/first kiss

to build a nest (to build a home) by Kwills91. (yes ive been slowly working thru this writer's entire ao3 archive and yes theyre all brilliant, so im only putting a few on here. go read them all). this one made me fucking cry (for totally unimportant reasons don't think abt why shush) its so sweet go forth and enjoy

the ebb of your tide by twobirdsonestone. firefighter convention in indeannopolis (how tf do i spell that) = only one bed! super fun super cutesy

call me hot and pretty by anon. honestly conceptually i thought this would be kinda cringe and it fully wasn't i was so along for the ride

short n sweet (can you tell its my favourite kind)

inappropriate use of federal funding by spotsandsocks. this one is so...teehee teehee very fun

last and forever by kwills91, post s8 ep 6 which is super cute

what would you prefer i call you by kwills91 (seriously go look them up already). buddie first fight but its adorable

sounding like the rest of my life by coupe_de_foudre. another fic where everyone knows buddie is married but buddie

friends don't by disasterbuck. so silly so fun so real honestly

an inch away from more than just friends by ummrys. if you too want sapphic buddie smut go forth and enjoy and yes it will make you gayer

anything to make you stay by intellectual_applesauce. teehee bc eddie notices something about green shirts...

angsty and happy ending

stay with me (you're all i need) by accio magic. yep i reread this one and yep im recommending it again they COOKED ok they COOKED

leave the light on (ill be coming home) by HMSlusitania. i could not for the life of me remember if id read this one or not before so i just read it again and it was just as good it was soooo sooo good.

that is by no means all of the wonderful fics ive read but it is the extent im willing to go through my ao3 history. pls also check out the original post which has plenty more! ur all welcome (its a mess of an ao3 history guys this post has taken me ages)

also i should maybe self plug? ive got two random eddie pov oneshots up under the same username but ill do a new post when i start posting my big hiatus fix it fic!

[gingerteafairy]

𝐟𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐡 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐨𝐧𝐞, 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝 (𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐝𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫)

"I’d die and kill for you. I just don’t want to see you suffer, ever again.”

tags n warnings: ghost!tate, est. relationship, heavy angst, hurt/comfort(?), depression, suicide attempt, drugging, male validation, oc's, death, toxic relationship, murder, blood, daddy/mommy issues, language. word count: 4.8k. masterlist

You kept your eyes fixed on the clock, as if each second was dragging on purpose, like time itself was mocking your patience during this endless shift. 10:34. The display blinked. Finally, another minute passed, and you sighed, feeling the weight of the moment. 10:35.

It was strange, because normally you’d be staring down at your phone, lost in it, looking for anything to distract you — any distraction, just like the emptiness you knew others could see in you. A deep ego, a soul rotting from the inside out.

You’d made a mistake on the machine an hour ago. A simple mistake, but a crucial one. It hadn’t reset. The supervisor, with that cold stare, had reprimanded you. And deep down, you knew you should apologize, but you didn’t have the courage. Something froze you. The second you opened your mouth, you felt like you’d break. Cry, beg for forgiveness, like that one mistake was the only thing that could shatter what was already fragile inside.

"Hey." Cecília’s voice cut through your thoughts, interrupting the whirlwind in your head. She gestured with her hands, signaling that it was time for a break, time to step away for a bit.

You glanced at the clock again. 10:37. It was well past the usual break time, but who cared? This place, this job, was so flavorless, so lifeless, that if you passed out right there, the most anyone would do was check your blood pressure, or maybe run the machine with their own blood sample.

"Let’s go," you murmured, standing up with little enthusiasm. You followed Cecília to the kitchen, feeling your muscles tense, like your own energy was up for sale and no one was buying.

Once inside the break room, you slumped into a chair, the plastic of the seat almost cracking under the weight of your tired body. Cecília, always quick, began rummaging through her bag. A carrot cake, you noticed, when she held out the container to you — a silent offering, but loaded with unspoken intentions.

Something was off, you could feel it. The way Cecília’s green eyes fixed on you seemed to overflow with something deeper than simple concern. And when you met her gaze, you realized there were traces of last night's argument, the tension still hanging between you two. You hadn’t eaten anything all day, and you were starting to feel lightheaded. Even so, your blood had been taken to help the newer interns. Cecília was pissed. You could feel you were losing a friend, and you feared, rightfully so, that you might lose another — especially one who’d been by your side for so long, since college.

"I brought cake," you said, your voice quiet, as if just mentioning food could ease the tension in the air.

"Nice," Cecília responded, the word falling like a stone as she tried to force a smile, her eyes drifting to the small piece of orange cake with a thin layer of chocolate. You tried to smile back, forcing your eyes to look away from the floor and focus on the simple sweetness of that cake.

"It’s good. Bought a bunch," her voice was flat, like she didn’t have the energy to care about what was happening around her. She took a distracted bite, tasting it without really savoring it, while her eyes wandered back to the break room floor.

"Cecília..." You said louder, your voice sounding strange after the heavy silence that had settled between you. Your body shrank, like your own shame had become physical. You noticed the hallway door was open. A whisper wasn’t enough anymore. "Thanks for yesterday. For saying that... about me messing up and hurting myself. Thanks for caring."

Cecília fell silent, her hands resting at her sides as she let out a long sigh. The tension seemed to grow, as if the unspoken words piled up between you two, heavy and hard to untangle.

"I’m always worried." She remarked, the lump in her throat a warning of the depth of her words, like she was still shouting the same thing she had yesterday. "About my friends..."

"I... I’m not okay..." you finally confessed, what Cecília had suspected from your empty stare and dark circles. "My depression is worse, I feel like nothing makes sense. Nothing can be fixed. I…" 

You stopped, you couldn't tell Cecília that you tried to commit suicide on Saturday and that's why you didn't answer any messages. You wanted to say goodbye with a letter or message when you started taking your insomnia medication, but you stopped you. Wondering if it was all worth it. If you were going to die or it would just be a scare, where you would sleep for a whole day. It wasn't worth it.

"I didn’t know it was like this," Cecília whispered, her eyes fixed on the cake, which now tasted bitter, like earth and ashes. You smiled, but it was a hollow, bitter smile, slow to reach your eyes.

"I can’t talk about it," you answered, clenching your fists like that physical force could stop the tears from coming. "I’m just withering away... without anyone knowing."

"I’m here for you." Cecília’s voice, always so firm, echoed a comfort you knew would be useless. But somehow, it still felt like relief. You had never known how to deal with comforting words, but at that moment, they were a balm.

"Thanks for caring, really," your voice was soft, almost breaking the rigidity you’d been holding onto.

"I’m here for you." She repeated, this time stepping closer. Cecília crouched down, getting on your level, her eyes just inches from yours. "Whatever you need, we’re in this together."

You didn’t quite know what to do with those words, how to fit that kind of support into the mess inside you. But still, you smiled. A tired smile, but genuine. "Thanks," you murmured again.

You decided not to eat. Maybe it was better this way. The juice you’d had an hour and twenty minutes ago, with the supervisor, already felt like enough for your body. It was strange, but something inside you felt more satisfied just by watching Cecília eat, smiling every now and then, as if her happiness had the power to fill the empty spaces within you.

10:50. Time seemed to stick to your skin, like each second was a constant reminder of your decline, an unrelenting countdown since you were fifteen. It was time to get back to work, try not to freak out with the feeling of failure. But when you ran another test, you messed up again. Christian had to redo it for you.

"You’re trouble. Wasting my time," he joked, his laugh slightly forced, while he fiddled with the test tubes. When he noticed the silence, he shrank, embarrassment painting his face. Maybe he wasn’t so good with jokes. "I was just kidding."

"I know." You hurried to respond, trying not to sound too shaken. You watched how Christian did everything with such precision, a skill that seemed to come so naturally to him. How was it that you couldn’t be like that?

"What time is it?" He asked, putting the small glass back in the machine — that same machine you had failed earlier.

"10:55."

"11:10, we’ll be done, okay?"

"Okay."

You gave in, once again, to the temptation of your phone, waiting for the digital reading. The screen lit up, and you opened your private social network, checking if Alexandre had accepted your friend request. You wanted him to respond to your funny post about gastritis. He didn’t. Of course, he wouldn’t. Instead, he had seen the ridiculous post you made about your issues with your dad, with rock music playing in the background, making it even more pathetic. He didn’t comment. Great. Perfect.

Jonathan didn’t respond either, just saw it. It wasn’t unusual, he was used to your depressive and self-deprecating rants. Even though he understood the deeper meaning behind it, he did nothing but leave a like.

Maybe it was too heavy. Gastritis and daddy issues. You laughed at your own choice of topic, but deep down, there was something bitter in that laugh. It was an attempt not to cry over how ridiculous you felt, desperately wishing to get any male attention, any way you could.

Lucy liked it. Maybe that was enough. A small gesture, a comment from your sister about how the song you’d chosen reminded her of herself. That could have been enough, but somehow, you still expected more. You wanted Alexandre to comment, to start a conversation, to care about what you posted. Or maybe Jonathan, with his unpredictable way, would use that information to jump into the conversation, like he always did. Or even Professor Ivanovich, with his harsh and Russian demeanor, might like the post and give it a touch of authenticity. But no. None of that happened.

It was already 11:12, and time seemed to crumble on top of you. You still hadn’t retrieved the machine’s result in time. Desperate, you tried to rush everything, but haste only led to more mistakes. Christian noticed the shadow of disaster before you did, as always, and rushed to fix it. In the end, he had to redo everything himself. You, on the other hand, just withdrew, shoulders slumped, without looking at Cecília. You didn’t know if you should or if you even could. The goodbye was quick, almost impersonal. The exhaustion, the weight of the day, it all seemed to drain through your veins, leaving you empty.

Going home felt like torture. Being in the lab, at least, was easier. In fact, being anywhere else seemed simpler than that suffocating reality. Constant arguments, yelling, cutting words. The house was a battlefield, and you didn’t know where to hide anymore.

Your dad, intense and loaded with cruel words, always made you feel like trash, as if it was impossible to please him. He said the worst things, things that cut deep, and then... then he’d send a message:

"Hey, I don’t want to be on your back. I care about you. Talk to me, I’ll try to understand. I promise."

It was funny, in a bitter way. The coward never said what needed to be said face to face. All that was left was the emptiness, the bitter taste of the fight that still burned in your throat, as you tried to drown it all out with your headphones, the muffled sound blending with the external noise, until everything became an unbearable mix.

When you got home, the door creaked, announcing your arrival. Your mom was there, as always, with a hug. But her touch, which should have been a comfort, felt more like a sickness, like her fingerprints were invisible bacteria, microscopic, spreading across your skin.

"What happened? You look down." She asked, touching your face, and you did your best to smile. But it was a forced smile, masking the deep disgust, the gastric acid churning in your stomach.

I’m so fucking tired of being here. That was the answer echoing inside you, but what came out was a simple, "I’m tired." And with that, you went up the stairs of that creepy house, which reflected, in its dark corners and dusty furniture, everything you felt inside. It was as if the walls were alive, absorbing the despair you carried.

Your room always felt the coldest in the house, and whenever you passed the door, a chill ran up your spine. But then you knew exactly what was waiting for you. Turning inside, you found Tate, smiling at you with that sweet, almost innocent smile, his arms outstretched for a tight hug. He was your secret, the only place you could hide from everything and everyone.

You couldn’t share the happiness with anyone, you couldn’t let the world know, or it could all disappear. He had been seen by your parents, but only on the important occasions when he insisted on showing up and proving himself to be a good man. He didn’t tell them everything, of course. After all, dating a ghost, someone as broken as you, was a dangerous kind of happiness.

It worked, though, since everyone liked Tate, even if he was the embodiment of darkness itself. But still, you knew you couldn’t live without him.

"I missed you," he confessed, pulling back just enough to look at your face, holding it in his calloused hands, which seemed made to comfort and destroy at the same time.

"I couldn’t stand being without you." You smiled, leaning your face into the coldness of his hands, feeling the relief of his presence.

"Good thing we have an eternity together," Tate softened, kissing your forehead with the tenderness of someone who had all the time in the world. "Now that you’re feeling better, I think I can offer you a game. I’ve been waiting for you all day."

Tate was sweet. Everyone liked him. Almost perfect, like a rare phenomenon, a celestial sight that anyone on the street would stop and admire. But you knew that Tate, behind those dark eyes and golden hair, wasn’t what he seemed. There was something much darker inside him. Something you felt, but didn’t have the courage to question. Because deep down, you loved that darkness as much as you loved the light he could still show.

You loved him for his darkness. For the way everything you thought and felt materialized in his actions. He was the nail, and you, the flesh, so fragile, so vulnerable to everything happening in the outside world. But with him, you felt whole. Even when the world around you seemed to be falling apart.

While you were caught up in the card game, you heard his unmistakable footsteps. With a subtle gesture, you motioned for Tate to hide, and you, without hurry, began to organize the colorful cards, some of them personalized with the drawings Tate had made, trying to look as normal as possible.

“Did you manage to study yesterday?” Your father asked, crossing his arms and standing in the doorway, a critical look that no longer surprised you.

You didn’t look at him. Your eyes were fixed on the little dinosaur drawn by Tate, trying to focus on the cards and not on the tension that was building in the air. “No.”

“Did you study today?” He repeated, with that annoying insistence, as if you were just a reflection of his expectations, a piece of paper that needed to be filled out in the right way.

“No.” The answer was automatic, without desire. You continued shuffling the cards, as if that were the most important thing in the world, but in reality you were just trying to avoid confrontation. You were exhausted from the last fight, the reason for it being trivial: you had fun with your friends and arrived late. “Yesterday I arrived very tired. Today, the same thing happened.”

“You really are unbelievable.” He laughed, shaking his head in disdain, searching the room as if he knew something you didn’t, as if the walls held secrets. “You can’t do something without making mistakes. You have to go back to those worthless friends of yours. It almost seems like you have no purpose. You have everything, but you keep complaining. You don’t have to blame anyone for your misery.”

“Yes, I don’t have to blame anyone.” You replied, exhaustion finally reflecting in your voice. Before, you fought, but now everything seemed like a tiring theater, a scenario that you no longer had the strength to change. You just left everything as it was, too lazy to make any effort.

“I’m glad you know.” He shrugged, his tone arrogant. “You should be like that boyfriend of yours, Tate. I want to see what he thinks of his girlfriend being a slut walking the streets at night.” He hissed, already leaving the room, closing the door with force, making the sound echo through the house. You turned your head quickly, seeing Tate locking the door behind him, as if he wanted to protect you from something invisible.

“You know he doesn’t mean it…” Tate tried to soften, sitting next to you on the mattress. “He’s just… weird. At least he takes care of you. My father would leave the house and let my mother beat me saying she’d have aborted me when she had the chance.” He spoke with a sigh, as if this was his reality, something so far from yours, but that somehow connected with the pain.

“Great care. They give me a place to stay and food. Quality service.” You scoffed, your voice sour, your eyes rolling, irritation rising to the surface.

Tate grimaced, pressing his lips together and sighing, before touching your hair, with a gentle gesture, trying to calm you down. “Hey, don’t be like that. Forget it…” He whispered, getting closer and kissing your cheek, as if that gesture would be able to dissipate the pain. “You’re not getting in the way of anything and you’re not an idiot... you’re perfect for me, you know that.”

“But I’ll never be perfect for them, Tate.” You murmured, letting the weight of the words fall on you. You lay down, trying to close your eyes, but the tears began to roll, silent and constant. He understood. It was your moment to be alone. Tate disappeared completely into the coldness of the room, leaving you alone with your own thoughts.

Another day began, and with it, the same endless cycle: work, college, fights. But this time, something had broken for good. The screams were louder, more threatening, and you had the feeling that, for a moment, he might actually hit you. Your mother didn’t say anything, she was as distant as ever, and your sister just stepped back, as if nothing had happened, as if it was nothing more than another episode that would vanish into thin air, without a trace.

It was just another family fight, the kind that made you lock yourself in your room, burying yourself under the covers, wishing you could be transported to another dimension—anywhere but here. You squeezed your eyes shut, but the screams still pierced through the walls, each sharp word making you cringe. Your chest tightened, your breath coming in quick gasps. You needed something—someone—to hold on to.

And as if he could hear your thoughts, Tate’s arms wrapped around you, pulling you into his warmth as your tears soaked into the pillow.

“I’m getting out of here,” you mumbled, your nails digging into his arm as your body curled into itself. “I swear to God, I’m leaving this fucking house and never coming back to this shithole again.”

“Shhh, I’m here. Shhh,” he mumbled into your hair, holding you tighter, his other hand making slow, gentle strokes across your scalp. “I’m getting you out of here. It’s going to be okay, okay? You know that. I’m working on it. You’re not who they say you are. They don’t deserve you.”

“Nobody deserves to be stuck with someone like me,” you choked out between sobs. “Nobody, Tate. Nobody. I’m nothing—I’m insufferable. I’m fucked up, I’m everything they say I am!”

“Hey, stop.” His voice cut through the air, firm but calm. Before you could react, he moved, hovering over you, his eyes burning into yours. “Don’t ever say that again. Don’t believe that shit.” His voice was low, intense, like a storm about to explode. “Don’t ever say that. It’s not fair—to you or to me!”

You choked back another sob, your eyes locked on his. He looked on the verge of breaking too, his lips pressed tightly together, his jaw clenched as if he were holding back a scream. His throat worked, swallowing emotions too big to contain.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice so low it barely reached your own ears, scraping against your throat like glass. “I’m sorry for being like this, Tate. For doing this to you.”

He shook his head instantly, his eyes shining with unshed tears. Without another word, he leaned in, pressing a desperate kiss against your lips, the taste of salt mingling between you. When he pulled away, he sniffed, running his thumb over your damp cheek.

“You’re nothing like that,” he murmured, kissing your forehead, then your temple, then your cheeks, as if he could kiss the sadness out of you. “You matter to me. You’re everything to me. Don’t talk about yourself like that.”

“I’m sorry,” you tried again.

“Stop fucking apologizing,” he murmured, his face twisting with something that resembled pain.

“I’ve been apologizing for things that aren’t even my fault for so long,” you admitted, closing your swollen eyes as fresh tears fell. “I don’t even know how to stop.”

“Well, don’t do this to me,” he said, squeezing your hands tighter, lacing his fingers with yours. “Don’t do this to anyone. You don’t owe anyone an apology for simply being you.”

“I’m afraid of losing everything, Tate.”

“You won’t lose everything,” he said firmly, his grip tightening as if he were making a promise with more than words. “You’ll always have me. It may not be much, but I promise—you’ll have me.”

“This means everything to me.” Your lips trembled, forming the faintest smile, almost invisible, but Tate caught it.

“You should stop crying,” he teased softly, brushing his nose against yours.

“I’m trying,” you mumbled, your voice still hoarse.

“Forget about them,” he whispered, shifting to wrap himself completely around you, like a human shield. “Those days? They’re not coming back. Stay with me, lean on me. For anything, everything. Always and forever.”

“I’m afraid to depend on you.”

“It’s hard,” he admitted, his voice muffled against your neck before pulling away enough to look you in the eyes. “But no amount of softness will change the fact that you’re strong. A hammer doesn’t turn into a nail.”

A laugh escaped you before you could stop it, small but real. Tate’s face lit up like the sun breaking through the clouds.

“You’re so damn beautiful when you smile, my sunshine,” he murmured, his voice thick with something tender, something that made your chest ache in a way that wasn’t painful. He traced his fingers along your jaw, as if trying to memorize you. “And I swear, I’ll do anything to see that smile every day. I’ll keep you safe. I’ll take you with me. I’ll be your peace.”

That night, you slept with an overwhelming serenity, an unexpected peace that seemed to wrap your body in a comforting embrace, but something woke you in the middle of the night. An agonizing, desperate scream tore through the silence of the house, followed by the muffled, dry sound of a gunshot.

The scream was your mother’s. Your stomach churned, and a cold sensation ran down your spine. You jumped out of bed, your feet slamming against the floor in an uncontrolled rush, nearly tripping over your own legs as you ran down the stairs. Each heavy step echoed in your mind, but it was the scene in the kitchen that made your body stop, as if time had slowed down.

Your mother was on the floor, covered in blood, her face pale and lifeless, her glassy eyes fixed on an eternal void. Beside her, your father was lying, the pistol lying next to his limp hand. The smell of gunpowder still hung in the air, mixed with the blood that stained the kitchen floor. Your heart raced, your legs shaking beneath you as terror took over your body.

You staggered backwards, almost breathless, until your eyes met Tate's, who was standing in the corner of the room. He was smiling. But it wasn't a smile of relief or empathy. It was a smile between tears, a tortured and manic smile that made your stomach turn even more.

“Tate…” you sobbed, your voice shaking, your hands cold, your fingers barely able to move. Fear seeped into your bones, making every movement harder to make. You were shaking so hard that you felt your legs buckle under the weight of the scene before you. 

Your eyes roamed over Tate’s body, settling on the green sweater you loved so much, now stained with fresh warm blood. It was your mother’s blood. It was your own family’s blood. The shock was so intense that you could do nothing but take a step back, your body now pressed against the wall as if it were your only lifeline.

“You… What did you do?” Your voice came out as a broken whisper, each word leaving your mouth as if it were being ripped out by force, the terror visible in your wide eyes. Panic was taking over you, and a wave of nausea rose in your throat, but you couldn’t look away from Tate, even though you knew it was the gaze of a monster disguised as an angel.

He smiled, his eyes watering as he approached you, his steps slow, as if he were savoring every movement. “I told you I would help you,” he said, the words coming out with a smile that bordered on madness. Blood still stained his fingers, and you could see the tears rolling down his face, but they weren’t tears of regret. They weren’t tears of sadness. They were tears of twisted happiness. “I told you I’d give you the peace you so desperately need, baby.”

Those words. They echoed inside your head like a death sentence. “Peace” wasn’t what you felt. What you felt was dread. Dread of the person who had once made you feel safe, but who now seemed like a living nightmare. The sweater he wore, the touch of your hair—everything was a reminder of what he had become. You stared at him, eyes wide, breathing fast, trying desperately to get away from his presence, but the weight of what was happening paralyzed you. The blood was fresh, still dripping from your body as if it had been extracted from your family’s very life.

Noticing the terror in your eyes, Tate paused for a moment, his arms opening wide, as if it were his only way to offer you comfort. As if it was the only thing he could do to calm you.

“I said I’d be your peace, I promised,” he murmured, the tears now falling more heavily, but the smile remained. He seemed to be in ecstasy, as if he were carrying out a divine plan, something greater than the two of you. His smile was as grotesque as it was beautiful, a mix of twisted love and madness. “I always said I would do anything for you, and I always do what I promise.”

Terror took over every cell in your body, your voice cracking as you murmured, “I didn’t ask for any of this… I didn’t fucking ask you to do this…” The words came out slurred, almost like a cry for help, but Tate didn’t seem to understand.

"What? What... do you mean?" He stuttered, tearing apart. He stepped even closer, each step heavy and determined.

"TATE YOU FUCKING KILLED MY PARENTS."

“YOU CALLED FOR FUCKING HELP, DAMMIT!” he shouted, the fury and pain in his voice.

His voice made the walls of the house seem to vibrate. Anger and despair intertwined in his voice, as he calmed himself, running a hand through his hair, a desperate attempt to control himself.

“I’m sorry, darl’… I… ’m so fucking sorry for yelling at you. I promise, everything will be okay. I just wanted to help you…wanted to get you out of all this fucking bullshit. I’d do anything, I’d die and kill for you. I just don’t want to see you suffer, ever again.” It was a mantra, a manic justification that you didn’t know if you could believe anymore. 

Fear still tighten your chest, but something inside you begins to give in. Tate’s words were starting to make sense in a distorted way. The small possibility that you had ignored was now expanding, growing like a poisonous plant. He was right, wasn’t he? He had always been right. He loved you. He would protect you. You should trust him. Her breathing calmed, and her shoulders relaxed, as the horror of what was happening seemed to dissolve beneath the weight of his embrace.

He wrapped his arms around you, pressing your body against his, and you had no strength to resist. Deep down, you knew that you were now hopelessly trapped, but something inside you, a sick part of you, did not want to be saved. Over Tate’s shoulder, you saw your parents lying in the kitchen, their bodies inert, your father immobilized by the fallen pistol, your mother in eternal silence. Your sister was not there. There was no more screaming, no more mocking. There was no one left to hurt you. There was nothing left but Tate and you, and he was whispering to you:

“You’re my life,” he muttered, burying his face in your neck, his touch warm and possessive. “And you will depend on me. Now and forever. There’s no one else but the two of us, my dear. Not anymore.”

Those words sounded like a condemnation and a promise, at the same time. And you knew, without a doubt, that you were lost. Forever.

[snowluvvie]

₊˚⊹ ♡ . EASILY CONVINCED.

₊˚⊹ ♡ . RED K!CLARK X READER

₊˚⊹ ♡ . you want to leave him, but there's one thing keeping you there

₊˚⊹ ♡ . MDNI 18+ | word count — 2.8k | warnings — established toxic relationship, Clark does not care about your feelings at any point at all, manipulation, crying, oral (m. recieving), finger sucking, unprotected p in v, name-calling, hair-pulling

When Clark strolled into your shared Metropolis apartment, it was already after dark. The moonlight streaming in through the window glinted off the smooth marble countertop and illuminated you, already waiting in the shared kitchen for him to arrive home. Your arms were folded over your chest, eyebrows furrowed lightly. You were finally going to have the conversation you’d been needing to have with him for the past few months.

You thought if you came to Metropolis with him, stayed by his side rather than letting him run off on his own, things would get better. That isolation wouldn’t be good for him, and your presence would sway him to take off the ring and return to Smallville. It hadn’t. Sometimes it seemed like it worsened with the passing days—the going out and staying out for hours, sometimes overnight, being mouthy and rude, or just downright insulting. And you saw the way he looked at women passing on the street sometimes. It felt like being stabbed, though you’d given up on reprimanding him a while back. Now, though?

You’d come to the long overdue conclusion that this simply wasn’t the same Clark anymore, wasn’t your Clark. He wasn’t the guy that insisted on fixing your car when it made him late for school that day, or the guy that practically ran to your parents’ house to fix their fence when it broke, or the guy that kissed you like your face was something precious between his hands and fucked you like you actually meant something to him.

As Clark closed the front door behind him, your eyes caught on the obnoxiously large crimson ring still nestled on his giant hand. That old Clark was gone. Maybe one day he’d come back on his own, but for now? You wanted to go home. You wanted your life back.

You cleared your throat, and Clark raised his eyebrows as he regarded you standing there, waiting for him. “It’s late.”

He gives a halfway nod, lips quirking up into a smile, “It gets busier the later it gets. I should’ve stayed, really.”

By it he means that stupid club on the corner downtown. All pulsing blue lights and girls in the tiniest skirts you’ve ever seen. You’ve always tried to push its very existence out of your brain, and an involuntary shiver wracks your arms as you’re afflicted by thoughts of what he gets up to there.

“Well, I ate already.” Your arms tightened around you, silently cursing yourself for always fumbling when it came to things like this.

Clark hums in response, barely paying attention as he tugs his jacket off and tosses it onto the back of the chair. His keys clatter against the counter with a metallic clang, and he’s visibly already thinking about something else entirely.

You take a deep breath, “I wanna talk to you.”

“Y'are talking to me. Right now.” He flashes his pearly teeth, the little points peeking over his perfect bottom lip.

You shake your head, your eyes flicking away from him and instead focusing on the wall, or maybe the fridge. That was always how he got you—it was the same smile, the same twinkle in those blue eyes. It took all your willpower to stay grounded and remind yourself that no matter how bad you wished he was, he wasn’t your Clark. Your resolve trembled every time you looked at him.

“No, I mean talk to you about us.”

He rolls his eyes, “Not this again.” There he was. Dismissive and careless, which was all he’d been the last few months when he wasn’t just being blatantly mean.

“Listen! Yes, this again, you never let me finish!”

“I let you finish plenty. Wasn’t it…three times, last weekend?” He wanders over to the fridge, tugging the door open placidly. He looks over to you for a few moments, only long enough to see the way your jaw tightens as your face warms despite yourself.

“That’s not—I was trying to—” You huff, throwing your hands half-heartedly in the air as you struggle to articulate yourself. Like you always did, which Clark knew. “You know what I meant.”

Just as the last word left your lips, he slammed the fridge door. So hard the wall behind it rattled. "Can't this wait til' after I get somethin' to eat? 'M starved after tonight." He huffed out a laugh cause he knew what he was doing, leaving your imagination to run wild about what he'd got up to.

Though your bottom lip quivered a little bit, you shook your head. "No, you're a selfish dick. If I waited for you to want to talk to me, I'd be waiting forever."

Clark was across the kitchen and in your personal space in less than half a second, making you gasp. You tried to back up as he towered over you, but you bumped into the corner—he had you caged up against it. You avoided his eyes, though you couldn't escape his smell with how close he was. Delicious despite his bad behavior—oak barrels and gentle shampoo and sunlight. Your head swam as you took it in, you couldn't fight it when he grabbed your face, forcing it upwards. He craned your neck back to look at him, and his gaze was amused, lips tilted slightly upwards.

"My dick is a lot of things. Selfish is not one. You'd know, huh? There's only one greedy bitch here."

You were shaking like a leaf, and the squeak you let out was pathetic. "You know how I feel about the b-word."

Clark laughed loudly. "How you feel, and how you feel," his tone of voice lilted suggestively as his hand dipped down to the front of your shorts. "Are two very different things."

He paused for a half second, so you'd have time to say no, but it was mocking—he knew you wouldn't stop him. That made the seconds that stretched between you taunting, a total mockery of what you'd been trying to do, the corpse of your dead resolve practically half-buried already as you stood with baited breath, waiting for him to slip his hand where you wanted it.

As his hand went between your thighs, he grinned. “You’re real predictable, y’know that?” His fingers slid through your folds easily from how drenched they were. When he pulled his fingers from your panties, a glistening strand of your arousal clung onto them, and he shoved it in your face. Raising his eyebrows, “and you keep trying to act like you want me to be different. Liar.”

Your lip quivered from the misconstrued truth in his words, the way he could always use that against you. It wasn’t your fucking fault your boyfriend’s voice got you all hot, he was literally the most perfect man in the world, even when he was like this—that didn’t mean you wanted him to stay this way. The late-night whispers between the two of you as you laid on his barn couch back in Smallville, about a house and a family, were more important to you than the sex you seemingly couldn’t stop having. But why couldn’t you stop having it?

Clark shoved his fingers in your mouth, making you clean your own wetness off of them, and he intentionally shoved them back far enough to make you gag lightly. You hated the disappointment that bloomed in your belly when you realized he wasn’t going to relieve you further with his hand, he was just making a point. Your eyes burned.

"You owe me! I was ready to have a perfectly nice night an' settle in—you're the one who had to start somethin'." He rolled his eyes. "You're always doing this, y'know. Not very fair to me, is it?"

Your eyes watered and, though you were fighting furiously to keep it in, a little sniffle escaped you. The sound made Clark's eyes snap to you, just in time to watch the first tear slip down your cheek. The grin that spread across his face was sickening.

"C'mon. On your knees."

You hesitated for a moment, just long enough to make him punctate it with, "now."

The last of your resolve was officially gone and buried as you sunk to your knees, which met the cold tile underneath you, and looked up at him. Clark raised his eyebrows, prompting you with a nod, and your fingers found his belt and began undoing it. You fumbled with it a little, hands shaky through your crying.

When you raised a hand to wipe the tears from your face, Clark swatted it away. “Makes it extra wet, y’know that.” He reasoned with a charming smile.

You ignored him and finally got his belt undone, and his cock sprung out of the confines of his boxers already stiff. That only rubbed it in more—every insult and mockery he threw your way only made him harder, and your tears were just the nail in the coffin.

No matter how upset you were, it was muscle memory to take him as far back into your throat as you could, though you struggled. You gagged around it, saliva bubbling from the corners of your mouth. He was right, and the longer you went, your tears from both Clark’s mocking and how harshly you were gagging mixed with your spit and left his cock slick, your mouth sliding around it too easily. Your hand wrapped around the base so you could cover more of it, and his head fell back a little as you twisted your fist around his shaft at the same time your tongue swirled over his tip. The sigh he let out was contented, and he ran his fingers through your hair at the nape of your neck.

For a half second, you pretended it was Clark—your Clark. The guy who had held your hair back for you and rubbed your scalp soothingly when you had his dick in your mouth, doing his best to reward you for every good feeling you ‘gifted’ him, which was how he saw it.

The illusion was shattered when the fingers in your hair tightened sharply, making you yelp at the sudden pain. Clark groaned as your pained sounds vibrated around his cock, and he held your head in place as he started sliding in and out quicker, fucking your face at a more demanding pace than you’d been able to handle yourself. You gagged every time his tip hit the back of your throat, and Clark was letting the grunts and moans fall from his lips freely as you gagged, whined, and swallowed desperately around him.

“I like your mouth so much better when I do this. Not all that other shit.” He groaned. “Ah, fuck, ‘m gonna—”

Before he could finish his sentence, or cum down your throat, Clark was yanking you off of him by your hair. You let out a surprised yelp, but he was already snatching you up and tossing you over his shoulder like you were weightless. His shiny, throbbing cock still hung out of his blue jeans as he carried you to the back of the apartment and to your shared bedroom. He bumped your head on the doorframe as he brought you inside and ignored the noise you made, before tossing you down on the bed.

You sat there numbly, defeated, face streaked with tears and drool and precum, as Clark shrugged off his clothes and bared his inhumanly defined body to you. The moonlight coming in through the massive bedroom window—which wasn’t covered by the curtains, so you were sure some news helicopter would get a real eyeful of the habit Clark had developed to avoid a break-up—hit his chest in a way that made his tanned skin glow. Your mouth watered a little at the sight of him, something you’d truly never get used to, as if you needed more spit on your fucking face.

Clark wordlessly snapped his fingers at you as he knelt on the bed, and you moved obediently to hook your fingers in the waistband of your shorts and tug them and your panties down in one motion. Clark finished the job when he got impatient and made quick work of your thin sleep shirt, leaving it in two pieces by the foot of the bed.

He moved you like a doll, on all fours in front of him, fingers digging into your skin as he positioned you the way he wanted. The scream you let out when he sheathed inside you in one smooth motion—too big to fully bottom out, instead abusing your cervix immediately and giving you zero time to adjust—was muffled by his giant hand shoving your face into his pillow. That scent invaded your nose again, familiar and musky and clean, and you focused on it to distract yourself from the sting, gritting your teeth as you waited to adjust. Whines and yelps fell from your lips and were swallowed by the plush cotton, Clark still palming the back of your head to keep it there.

His pace was selfish and unforgiving, and though he was sliding in and out of you with no rhythm and no regard for how you felt, that didn’t stop the way your body began going limp, your pained squeaks turning into desperate moans and whimpers. “Nghh—ah, ah,” and you were sure Clark could hear it, no matter how drowned out it was by the wet, explicit skin-on-skin noises that filled the room.

He let your face up for a minute, and you gasped for breath.

“Feelin’ better now that you’re all full? Y’know—you’re always goin’ on and on—y’say you’re ‘not happy’” he did a high-pitched voice, mocking you, and you keened in response as he kept pumping inside of you, “I think what you mean to say is empty. Cause you’re all smiles when you're like this—real happy, right?”

Your only response was a low whine, and he smacked your ass hard. You jolted and yelped from the pain, but couldn’t move away from the second loud slap he landed against your cheek. He was holding you too tightly in place.

“Answer me.” Clark prompted, though his amused tone concealed an underlying threat as his hand still hovered over the globe of your ass, which was already blooming with red.

“Nngh—yes.” You cried out, but he clucked his tongue at you, ramming into you particularly hard to punctuate it. Your eyes rolled back.

“Yes what?”

“H-happy—‘m happy, thank you.” Fresh tears rolled down your cheeks from the way he was punishing your cunt.

You could hear the smile in his voice when he said, “there ya go!” Though, of course, nothing nice. He never fucking said anything nice. Said you hadn’t earned it, no matter what you did.

“Aah, shit—” His hips stuttered a little bit, and he let out a breath through gritted teeth. You clenched around him harshly and he groaned in response, your own release was creeping up on you.

“I dunno if you—argh—deserve my cum. Not today. Y’just cause problems.”

The pleading whine you let out was high-pitched and pathetic, the pillow wet with your still-flowing tears and the idea of him pulling out right now was torturous to you. He could’ve threatened to kill you and it would’ve been a less horrific idea.

“Please… please, Clark, please.” You babbled like a broken record, borderline incoherent through the snot and tears and broken moans. He was drilling your pussy, which was still squeezing him like a vice, and he laughed at your begging.

“One day I’ll stop bein' so nice, y’know?” Was the last thing Clark said before he came inside of you with a low, delicious groan, hips slamming into yours harshly as he fucked you through his orgasm. Your whole body shook with the force of it, limp and spasming, though he held you up easily. Your own release washed over you, and you finally let out a desperate, ecstatic cry as you were rewarded with the white-hot pleasure. The two of you were one, actually together for a few moments as you both reveled in the pleasure, something you didn't get from him anymore. Something you desperately missed, and your face screwed up at the familiar feeling.

It was over as quickly as it happened.

After Clark pulled out, he had the decency to arrange your limbs into some semblance of a laying position for you, since you were far too gone to do it. Your whole body felt like syrup. He laid your head on your own pillow, which made you miss the familiar smell of his, and tugged the covers over you. You didn't think you could speak if you wanted to, or remember your own name—or think of anything but him.

Clark rolled back over, a satisfied smirk playing at the corners of his lips. He was perfectly composed, though your chest still heaved as you tried to catch your breath. Shakily, you took a few slow, deep ones. There was a fuzzy warmth tugging at the edges of your brain and your chest. Like there always was after he was done with you.

“I love you.” You mumbled as your eyes drifted shut.

Clark’s answer was matter-of-fact, so close to being neutral if it wasn’t for the smugness that crept in.

“I know.”

[faghubby]

Going out again

"Ally. Why can't we just go to dinner together?" I whined

"Don't start, I am in a good mood. You wanted me to find a lover and now all you do is bitch like a little girl whenever I go to meet him" Ally shot back as she sat at her vanity finishing her make up. She stood up.

"I know what it is, you're bored home all alone. Well why don't we fix that" she told me grabbing my arm she led me down the hall.

"See this closet, it's a mess. Everyone just throws stuff in there they don't want to deal with" She then led me to the kitchen. "And the pantry, stuff gets thrown in here no organization" she told me. "Why don't you spend your free time taking care of that rather then pitching about me getting laid" she told me. I lowered my head in defeat.

"Don't cry about it" Ally said lifting my chin. "You can wear my pantyhose while you do it" she smiled. She knew I loved to wear her pantyhose they felt so smooth and sexy on my legs. Ally left to meet her lover. I knew nothing about him. She never shared details. When I had mentioned her cuckoldingMr, i thought it would boost are sex life add spice. Instead it killed it. She was getting what she needed from someone else. She wouldn't talk about it. But also stopped having sex with me at all. She had known about the pantyhose fetish since before we where married. No my sex life was me sitting home wondering what she was doing and with who as I masterbated.

Maybe this was a test if I did a good job cleaning everything up she would have sex with me. So I put on a pair of her pantyhose and nothing else and tackled the closet first. I spent hours on the closet and the pantry. I wasn't even done when Ally returned home.

"Look at you a busy little sissy" she smiled. "Did you have fun?" She giggled my dick hard in the pantyhose. She stepped close.

"It's been months hasn't it?" She asked as she ran her hand over my hardon. "You did really well so how about I let you ask some questions" she said.

"How big is he?" I asked without thinking.

"Wow your first question is about his big cock, jealous? Do you secretly want to suck his cock?" Ally teased. "It's bigger then you of course bit not overly enormous" she told me.

I thought for a moment "do I know him?" I asked

"No" she responded. She rubbed me again thru the pantyhose then ran her hand across my ass. I jumped as it felt like electricity running thru my body.

"Whould you like to wear pantyhose more? I would get you your own?" Ally asked I just moaned. "What about other things, girlie things. Have you tried panties?" She asked

"Yes, I love the feeling of satin" I confessed she stepped behind me her hands never leaving me.

"I bet you would look so cute all dressed up in satin" she told me her hands running up and pinching my nipples. "Rub yourself, don't take it out just rub" she told me kissing my ear. I rubbed my hardon it didn't take long for me to make a mess in my pantyhose. She headed for a shower leaving me to finish up.

In the morning I found a pair of nude pantyhose on top of my clothes.

"Wear them under your work clothes today" Ally told me. I put them on and put my underwear over them thinking it would hide them better if I bent over or something. I struggled to focus all day. The pantyhose driving me crazy.

At home Ally was cooking dinner,

"How was your day?" She smiled. "Why don't you strip down to just your silky pantyhose" without a thought I stripped. "How did you feel today?" She asked.

"Hot" I complained even though I loved it.

"Well you could shave that will reduce the temp and of course make them feel even more anazing" Ally told me. "And maybe I tell you how he likes to fuck me" she smiled. I went to take a bath. I shaved my legs, ass and groin. Before getting out of the tub. Ally met me at the door with a pair of full size pink satin panties.

"They are your size try them on" I slid them on and they felt amazing she then handed me a new pair of pantyhose they fit better then hers they weren't tight they felt amazing on my shaved legs.

"He loves to bend me over and fuck me standing up. He pounds away abusing my poor little pussy" She told me rubbing me thru the pantyhose and satin panties. I wanted to cum but she stopped.

"Why didn't you finish?" She asked running her hand thru the little cheat hair I had. I had not thought about it. She didn't wait for a response instead she bent me over.

"Like this he has me then he spreads my legs a bit" she moved my legs "and gets me wet" she said as she ran her fingers over my panty covered asshole. She then pulled my pantyhose and panties down exposing my ass. She applied something cool to my asshole and pushed her finger in.

"I want to make you a full fledge sissy" she told me. I didn't move I let her do whatever she wanted. She then pushed something hard against my hole.

"Push out and relax" she told me I tried and suddenly something slid into my ass. It hurt alittle as I gasped she pulled up my panties.

"I suck and swallow his cock. I never even put you in my mouth" Ally told me. "Do you like your new butt plug?" She asked. I spent the rest of the night even sleeping with the plug in my ass and the pantyhose.

"I am seeing him agsin after work, so you should focus on getting the laundry caught up and maybe thinking about getting rib of the rest of this hair. I went to work in pantyhose again. But she let me remove the plug it was small it felt so much bigger. When I got home I found a bigger plug on the table.

TRY THIS ONE SISSY GIRL the note read. I took it and worked into my ass as I get the tub set. And shaved my chest and pits. This is what I wanted I wanted the attention I wanted her to tease me. The plug hurt a little but if it made her happy.

Ally came home just before I was going to bed. She underdressed in front of me making a show of it. She peeled off her cum soaked panties.

"Look at all his cum" she laughed. "I got you this to wear" she smiled handing me a pink satin nightgown. As she went to shower. I put it on and wanted to jerk off. I was about to give in when Ally got out of the shower. She laid in bed naked. She lifted my nightgown and stroked me.

"Cum, don't hold back cum" she told me. I cane innunder a minute she caught all my cum in her hand.

"He cums so much more then you, she bought her hand up to show me. "Eat it, lick up your mess" she said sternly. I hesitated.

"I let him fuck my ass, could imagine me letting someone take my ass" she said I licked her hand clean. The salty taste was okay but the slimy texture almost made me gag.

In the morning she gave me a satin camisole with matching panties to wear. But no pantyhose. Agsin as soon as ingot home she had me strip and added an even bigger plug to my ass. Another nightie to wear to bed. The next morning she added a garter and stockings under my work clothes.

When I came home she greeted me at the door. She dragged me to the bedroom sat me down.

"Tell me you want this" she told me.

"Ally I love you" I started

"Tell me you want me to make you a sissy bitch, make you suck cock" She instructed me.

I froze staring at her I didn't want this to stop, but suck some guys cock?

"Yes make me your sissy bitch" I told her.

"That's truly what you always wanted isn't it" as she started to undress me smacking my hands down when I tried to help. "A little cuckold unable to satisfy his wife because he wanted to he the girl" she continued. She stripped me completely naked.

"Get on your knees and suck my cock" She told me lifting her dress. A pink plastic cock jutting out from her crotch. She pushed me down and lifted her cock to my lips. I looked up at her then opened my mouth. She was right I could never satisfy her I wanted to wear panties. I tried to suck her cock she gave me tips and hints to suck her cock better. My jaw hurt my knees hurt my throat hurt by the time she let me stop.

"You didn't make me cum, so" she pulled my hair so I stood and she spun me around and lubed my ass. She pushed her cock into my ass. She started slow but was soon bounding away.

"You love my cock don't you baby?" She asked

"Yes, fuck me" I pleaded. Before she stopped and pulled out.

"Get dressed" she told me pointing to a pile of clothes. There was satin panties and a bra. Stockings and a skirt and a shirt that said Sissy across it then in a box a pair of high heel shoes in my size. I slipped them on simple black 3 inch heels. I almost fell putting them on. I had not even noticed Ally get dressed as well.

"I will be back in the morning, I expect the house to be spotless. I don't care if it takes all night. You should be a pro in those heels by then" She kissed me on the cheek and left wearing sweat pants. I so wanted to cum but focused on cleaning. I didn't want to ruin this. I was up to 2am scubbing the house top to bottom.

I woke up to Ally coming home it was 9am.

"Still in bed" Ally pulled back the covers I still wore the bra and panties. She sat and rubbed my erection thru my satin panties.

"Beg to clean his cum from my cheating cunt" Ally laughed. I looked at her she was serious.

"Ally, I don't want" I whined

"Beg to devoure his sperm from me, make me believe you need it" Ally said.

"Please, Ally let me clean your pussy" I said. She looked at me.

"Ally I need to suck his manly seed from you, I need to clean you" I pleaded she stood and dropped her skirt lowering herself to my mouth. His cum dripped on my face before she even lowered herself all the way. She ground her pussy into my face as I locked and sucked her lips and clit. When she was satisfied I had done a good job she got off.

"Stay right there" she told me. When she returned she wore her strapon. She pulled off my panties and lubed my ass, before shoving her cock balls deep into my ass. My dick became soft but cum leaked from it. As she fucked me. My legs on her shoulders.

"Your just a little sissy now, my little bitch girlfriend" Ally told me. That's all I was now wasn't it. She didn't see me as a man. How could she? I started to cry as she fucked me hard with her toy.

"That's it my little bitch, all you can do is cry" Ally teased. She fucked me so long sweat dripped off her face. I was jelly. I just laid there.

"Here let's put this on now" Ally said as she fiddled with something around my balls. I sat up when she was done. I didn't have a dick!

"I knew it would fit. It's like you have no penis at all she laughed. "It's only 3/4 of an inch chastity cage." She told me. "And I already threw out the key"

"Your a woman now" Ally smiled. As I burst into tears again.

[mouserthefirst]

sevika fluff for @sapph0ediva! if this isn't quite what you wanted, feel free to lmk :) this is my first time writing sevika so i hope you enjoy <3

word count: 819 ˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

When Sevika woke up from losing her fucking arm, she was expecting…well, maybe not an apology from Silco, but maybe a few day’s leave or something. Maybe a get well soon card from one of Silco’s henchmen which they would be predictably too scared to give to Sevika. She was certainly not expecting the Eye of Zaun himself to have adopted a goddamn child.

     But a child is what she finds sitting in Silco’s office, face covered in snot, hair in a ratty braid. Sevika’s still a little off-balance – losing an arm will do that to you, asshole – but she feels like falling over when she sees this snotty, raggedy little kid wearing Silco’s jacket around her thin shoulders, sniffling into the collar.  

     “The hell is this?” she rasps. God, she needs a cigarette. It’s too early in the day to deal with more of Silco’s bullshit.

     The kid looks up, eyes giant and glassy with tears. “I-I—”

     Sevika moves to put her hands on her hips, and when only one actually does so, she feels a pang of annoyance. It’s going to take a while to get used to this. “I just lost my arm, kid. Don’t make me lose my patience too.”    

     That seems to make the kid even worse. “I’m, sniff, sorry.”

     Sevika rolls her eyes and stalks past the kid to the cigar box on the desk. She intends to ignore it until the kid’s watery eyes on her back get too annoying to overlook. “Look, if you want to stare at someone, go bother somebody else.”   

     The kid just lets out a little sob.

     Sevika’s fingers tighten around her cigar. She’s been on her last straw for a while now, but this takes the cake in terms of the shit she lets Silco get up to. Still, there’s something in her, something she’d never admit exists, that wants to comfort the kid. She’s sure it’s nothing. “What’s your name then, kid?”

     “Pow – Jinx,” the kid says quietly, then repeats a little firmer, “it’s Jinx.”

     “’Kay then,” says Sevika. Weird ass name, but who’s she to judge? “Jinx. What’re you doing here?” 

     “S-Silco found me,” Jinx sniffles. “He said I could stay.”

     Sevika scoffs and shakes her head as she lights up. “Of course.”

     “Did I say something wrong?” Jinx asks, eyes big.

     “Nah, it’s not you,” Sevika says. “Just…fucking bosses, y’know?”

     “Not really,” Jinx snivels.

     Sevika shrugs – the kid’s probably got a point, what would she know about bosses? – but before she can think of what to say next, Jinx is back to crying.  

     The kid’s covered in snot and looks like she hasn’t slept or washed up in a few days. Sevika’s seen some nasty stuff in her time, but seeing a kid like this never brings her pleasure. “Listen, I’m sure everything’s gonna be fine. Always is.”

     Jinx lets out a muffled sob and before Sevika can blink, the kid’s throwing her small body across the room at her. Thin arms wrap around her waist and Jinx’s head leans against Sevika’s stomach as she cries. Sevika awkwardly reaches up to pat the kid’s blue hair, hand running over her short, stubby little braid. Her sobs make Sevika feel a flash of pity, just for a second.

     “Hey, what did I say?” she says gruffly. “Everything’s good. I’ve just gotta clean up Silco’s messes like always. And you’ll, uh, do whatever you do. Just like always, yeah?”

     The kid’s arms tighten around her waist. She can’t be older than twelve, but she’s got some strength in her, somewhere in that little body.

     They stay like that for a while, and Sevika swears she’s gonna rip Silco a new one for this. But when Jinx falls asleep on the couch, some ratty toy bunny in her thin arms, Sevika can’t help but let a bit of her anger go. It’s not that she likes the kid – in fact, Jinx is really goddamn annoying – but a part of her feels sort of bad for her. She hates to see it, but she can see why Silco decided to keep her. He probably sees a piece of himself in the girl or something dramatic like that. 

     After that, Sevika sort of takes care of Jinx. She swears she’s just doing her job, and they both hate each other equally, but she’d be lying if she said a part of her doesn’t feel like the kid is someone she’s supposed to protect. She’s fought out of obligation her whole life – it feels sort of nice to be fighting for someone just because she wants to.

     And sure, they don’t have anything in common. Sevika’d rather turn bluebelly than spend an hour with Jinx, and she’s pretty sure the kid feels the same way. But that doesn’t mean Sevika privately thinks Jinx isn’t too bad at all – it’s just that she’d never tell a soul about it.

[hotchreidwriter]

W.T.F…S.R…

Summary : After months of silence, Spencer is finally home. You’ve spent so long aching for him, missing him, and resenting the fact that he wouldn’t see you while he was in prison. Now that he’s back, the emotions are overwhelming—love, relief, anger, and heartbreak all tangled together. But as soon as you’re in his arms, you realize one thing: no matter how much time has passed, he’s still yours. And you’re still his.

Paring: (post prison) Spencer Reid x Fem!reader (BAU)

Content : •Post-prison reunion with Spencer Reid •Reader struggling with emotions after being shut out •Spencer feeling guilt but desperately needing comfort •A soft yet emotional moment between them •The beginning of healing after everything they've been through.

warning: •Angst •Hurt/Comfort•Mentions of prison and emotional distress •Crying •Mentions of past separation •Touch-starved!Spencer •A lot of emotions (love, pain, relief, etc.)— No use of your name…

Word count : 3K

A/n sorry I craved post prison Reid tonight enjoy . It’s barely proofed sorry for any misunderstanding or mistakes if you liked please re blog it keeps me going :) .

Request are open please be kind .

It was a Wednesday morning, around 9:30 a.m. You had to see him. You couldn’t think of anything else. Spencer had been seeing others—so maybe, just maybe, he’d see you too. At least, that’s what you told yourself.

You had confided in Garcia, telling her you wanted to see Spence. She hesitated, asking if you were sure it was a good idea. I am, you had insisted.

So, you went.

Standing outside the prison where Spencer was being held, you took a deep breath before asking to see him. You gave the guard your name, but before you could even finish, he shook his head.

“He doesn’t want to see you.”

Your heart dropped. “W-what?” You blinked, trying to process his words.

“I’m sorry,” the guard said, his voice softer now.

“No, there has to be some mistake,” you stammered. “I’m his girlfriend. He’ll want to see me.”

The guard gave you a sympathetic look. “I know, sweetheart. But you’re on the list of people he doesn’t want to see.”

You felt like the air had been knocked from your lungs. “What the—” Your voice cracked, your throat tightening.

“I know this is hard,” he continued gently. “But those are his orders.”

Tears welled up in your eyes, blurring your vision. “Please,” you whispered, desperation creeping into your voice. “Can you at least give him a message for me?”

The guard hesitated before nodding. “I can try.”

“Just… just ask him to see me,” you pleaded, your voice barely above a whisper.

“I’ll try,” he said.

As he walked away, you stood frozen in place, tears slipping down your cheeks.

You had come all this way, hoping—praying—that Spencer would want to see you.

But he didn’t.

You called Garcia, your voice shaky as you tried to hold yourself together.

“I’m taking the rest of the day off,” you told her. “I can’t be at the office today.”

She didn’t ask why—she could already hear the pain in your voice.

“He didn’t want to see you, did he?”

You swallowed the lump in your throat. “No.”

There was a pause before you quickly added, “Look, don’t say I told you so, okay?

I just… I just miss him. I needed to see him, to know if he’s okay.”

Garcia sighed softly. “You already know the answer to that, sweetheart. It wasn’t his choice to be in there.”

“I know that,” you whispered. “But my heart aches for him. I don’t know how much more of this I can take.”

“I know,” she said gently. “I’m doing everything I can to help get him out.”

“I know you are, Garcia,” you murmured, voice barely above a whisper.

But knowing it wasn’t enough. Because no matter how hard she tried, Spencer was still in there. And worst of all… he didn’t want to see you.

It had been three months, two days, and three hours since you last saw Spencer—since you last tried to see him.

Your heart ached for him. You craved his presence more than anything in the world. Every week, you went through the same routine, clinging to hope like a lifeline. Wednesday. Thursday. Friday. You stood at the prison gates, pleading to see him, only for the guard to tell you the same thing:

He doesn’t want to see you.

The words cut deeper each time, like a knife twisting in your chest.

The days stretched on endlessly, each one heavier than the last. The months blurred together, time passing in a cruel, aching haze. You told yourself you would keep trying, but each rejection chipped away at the fragile hope you clung to.

And now… now you weren’t sure how much more you could take.

You were shattered. Not just by the fact that Spencer was in prison, but by the reality that he didn’t want to see you. That he had chosen to keep you away.

But what you didn’t know—what you couldn’t know—was that Spencer sat alone in his cell, head in his hands, counting the days just as you were. Three months. Two days. Three hours. He knew exactly how long it had been since he last saw you. And God, he missed you.

He wanted nothing more than to hold you, to tell you he was okay—even if he wasn’t. But he couldn’t. He wouldn’t. Because in his mind, he wasn’t the man you deserved anymore.

And if he saw you—if he let himself have you—he wasn’t sure he’d be able to survive losing you all over again.

It had been three months, two days, and three hours since you last saw Spencer—since you last tried to see him.

Your heart ached for him. You craved his presence more than anything in the world. Every week, you went through the same routine, clinging to hope like a lifeline. Wednesday. Thursday. Friday. You stood at the prison gates, pleading to see him, only for the guard to tell you the same thing:

He doesn’t want to see you.

The words cut deeper each time, like a knife twisting in your chest.

The days stretched on endlessly, each one heavier than the last. The months blurred together, time passing in a cruel, aching haze. You told yourself you would keep trying, but each rejection chipped away at the fragile hope you clung to.

And now… now you weren’t sure how much more you could take.

You were shattered. Not just by the fact that Spencer was in prison, but by the reality that he didn’t want to see you. That he had chosen to keep you away.

But what you didn’t know—what you couldn’t know—was that Spencer sat alone in his cell, head in his hands, counting the days just as you were. Three months. Two days. Three hours. He knew exactly how long it had been since he last saw you. And God, he missed you.

He wanted nothing more than to hold you, to tell you he was okay—even if he wasn’t. But he couldn’t. He wouldn’t. Because in his mind, he wasn’t the man you deserved anymore.

And if he saw you—if he let himself have you—he wasn’t sure he’d be able to survive losing you all over again.

It was a Friday evening. You sat curled up on Spencer’s couch, wrapped in one of his blankets—the one that still smelled like him. It was the closest you’d felt to him in months. One of his books rested in your lap, something you had mindlessly picked up from the coffee table, but you weren’t really reading. Your mind was elsewhere. On him.

Then your phone buzzed.

A number you didn’t recognize.

Your heart skipped a beat, but you answered anyway.

"You have a collect call from Spencer Reid. Do you wish to accept?"

Your breath caught in your throat. Hands shaking, you pressed one.

“Spence?” you gasped, voice thick with emotion.

Tears streamed down your face before you even heard his reply.

“I know,” he said softly. “I’m sorry.”

“W-what the hell, Spencer?” you choked out, torn between relief and frustration.

“I know,” he repeated, voice heavy with guilt. “I—God, I’m so sorry.”

You wiped at your tears, trying to catch your breath. “I miss you, Spence.” You weren’t even sure what to say. You just needed to hear his voice.

“I know, baby,” he whispered. “I miss you too.”

Silence stretched between you, filled with everything left unsaid.

“I need you,” he admitted, voice cracking.

“Then let me see you,” you pleaded softly.

A pause. Then—

“I can’t allow that right now.”

Your chest tightened. “Why?”

“You can’t see me like this.” His voice was barely above a whisper now, raw and broken. “Look, I just… I need you to know that I love you. So much. Okay?”

“Spence—”

“We don’t have much time,” he cut in, voice urgent now. “But please—please don’t give up on me.” He exhaled shakily. “I know I’m asking a lot, especially since I won’t let you see me, but… I love you. I really do.”

Your sobs wracked your body, silent but overwhelming.

Then the call disconnected.

Your breath hitched. “No.”

The dial tone rang in your ears.

No.

He was gone. Again.

It had been a couple of months since the call with Spencer. Since the last time you heard his voice.

You had thrown yourself into case after case, barely stopping to breathe. The team had closed several, and each time, you moved on to the next without hesitation. Work was the only thing keeping you from falling apart.

Emily and JJ had checked in on you more than once, their concerned looks never fading.

“Look,” you told them one evening, exhaustion lacing your voice. “I need to focus. If I don’t, I’ll break. And we don’t want that.” You hesitated before adding, voice cracking, “Spencer doesn’t even want to see me.”

JJ frowned. “You know he cares about you.”

“I know that,” you sighed. “But please, just stop walking on eggshells around me, okay? I just need to keep going until he gets out… if he gets out.”

You caught movement in the corner of the room—Garcia. Her face was unreadable, but her eyes told you something was wrong. Or maybe something was right.

“Everything okay?” you asked hesitantly.

She nodded, motioning for you to come over.

Your stomach twisted. “What is it?”

She took a deep breath before speaking, her voice soft but filled with something that made your heart race.

“We… we might have a chance to get him out.”

Your breath caught. “What?”

“I’m about to go get him.”

Your knees nearly buckled. “What?” you gasped again, louder this time.

Emily stepped beside you, a small smile on her face. “I told you we’d get him out.”

Tears burned your eyes. You didn’t think—you just moved, throwing yourself into Emily’s arms. A sob ripped from your chest as you clung to her.

“Thank you, Em,” you choked out. “I—I don’t even know what to say.”

She rubbed your back gently. “I know.”

And for the first time in months, hope didn’t feel so far away.

Garcia looked at you with a knowing smile. “Come with me.”

You grabbed your bag without question, following her as she led you to her car. She drove in silence for a few minutes, the hum of the engine filling the space between you.

It wasn’t until you recognized the streets that you frowned.

“I thought we were picking him up,” you said softly.

Garcia’s smile widened. “Sorry—did I say that?” She glanced at you, amusement twinkling in her eyes. “Look, he wanted to surprise you.” She reached for your hand, giving it a squeeze. “He’s home. I dropped him off an hour ago.”

Your breath caught. “What?” you gasped.

“He’s home,” she repeated gently.

Tears burned in your eyes as the words sank in. You had spent months aching for him, missing him, dreaming of this moment. And now—now he was waiting for you.

“Thank you, Garcia,” you whispered, voice trembling.

She smiled warmly. “Go get him, love.”

What you didn’t know was that Spencer was already home, waiting for you.

He had tried to stay awake, fighting off the exhaustion that clung to him like a second skin. But after months of restless nights, his body had other plans.

He had showered the moment Garcia dropped him off, scrubbing away the feeling of prison, letting the hot water wash over him until his muscles ached from standing. He should have felt refreshed, but instead, the warmth had only made him more tired.

Now, he sat in his chair, fighting sleep, his fingers twitching slightly as he tried to keep his eyes open. His heart pounded at the thought of seeing you again—touching you, holding you, telling you how much he had missed you.

Would you be angry? Hurt? Would you still love him after everything?

He didn’t know. But what he did know was that the moment you walked through that door, he would never let you go again.

You stepped out of the SUV, barely registering the sound of the door closing behind you.

Your heart pounded in your chest, your hands trembling as you made your way up to Spencer’s apartment.

You craved him. His touch, his warmth, the feeling of being in his arms where you belonged. But beneath the longing, there was something else—anger. Hurt. Months of unanswered questions and the ache of being shut out.

You wanted to run into his arms.

You wanted to slap him across the face.

He had chosen not to see you, not to let you in. And yet, despite it all, you had never stopped loving him. You had convinced yourself you were strong enough to handle anything—even seeing him behind those prison walls. But now, standing at his door, you weren’t so sure.

Taking a shaky breath, you turned the knob and stepped inside.

And there he was.

Asleep in his chair, head tilted slightly to the side, his breathing deep and steady. He looked exhausted, even in sleep—dark circles under his eyes, his face thinner than you remembered. But he was here. He was home.

Tears blurred your vision. You covered your mouth, a quiet sob escaping before you could stop it.

“Spence,” you whispered, voice thick with emotion.

Your knees nearly buckled as you stepped closer. You bent down in front of him, your fingers hesitantly threading through his hair. God, you had missed this.

“Spencer,” you said softly, voice trembling.

At your touch, he stirred, his eyes fluttering open. For a moment, he looked disoriented—then his gaze locked onto yours, and his breath hitched.

“Baby…” he rasped, sitting up and rubbing his tired eyes.

It was real. You were real.

"Spence… you’re home. You’re here,” you whispered, your hands trembling as you reached for him.

Spencer stood, his tired eyes never leaving yours. “I’m home,” he murmured, his voice barely above a breath. “I’m here.”

And then, finally, finally, he pulled you into his arms.

A sob tore from your chest the moment you felt him, the warmth of his body against yours, the way his arms wrapped around you like he was afraid to let go. You clung to him, your fingers gripping the fabric of his shirt as if he might disappear again.

He buried his face in your hair, breathing you in. “I’m home,” he whispered again, like he needed to remind himself this was real.

Tears streamed down your face as he held you, grounding you, soothing the ache that had settled in your chest for months.

After a moment, he gently pulled back, his hands cupping your face, his thumbs brushing away your tears. Without a word, he led you to the bedroom, keeping you close, as if afraid you might slip away.

“I’m home,” he whispered one last time, his forehead resting against yours.

And for the first time in months, your heart felt whole again.

Tags I think might enjoy this

@mggslover

@lover-of-books-and-tea

@angellsell

@hoe4hotchner

@catssluvr

@mggpleasedontlookhere

[system-to-the-madness]

Nightmare - Zuko x Reader

Pairing: Zuko x fem!Reader Word Count: 2 024 (hehe) Warnings: fighting, mentions of death, nightmare about injury and abuse, use of (y/n) Summary: After your fight you avoid Zuko, who tries to apologise. But even with your rejection he is by your side as you suffer from a nightmare. A/N: Can be read as a oneshot; Part Nine of the series Perfect (10 times Zuko thought you were perfect and the first time he told you);

It had been more than a full day since Zuko had last talked to you. It had taken the others only a few minutes after your return to the camp to realize you had fought with Zuko, and much to Zuko’s surprise and relief it was not an angry Katara that came to freeze him into an ice block for hurting you, but instead it was Sokka, trying to find out what had happened. Zuko was relieved that Sokka didn’t accuse him of anything and instead listened carefully to Zuko’s side of the story, before he patted his back reassuringly.

“She’ll come around, man,” Sokka told him. “She’s probably just upset because the conversation brought up memories of her dead brother. She’s not mad at you.”

“No, I think she is,” Zuko admitted, but Sokka wouldn’t have any of it and instead encouraged Zuko to spend the rest of the day by teaching Aang more Fire Bending.

That had been yesterday afternoon. Now it was already late at night, and over twenty-four hours since Zuko had last seen you. He knew you had been out of your tent, because Toph told him you went into town with her, but she refused to tell him whether you had mentioned him, and you had been clever enough to evade him as well.

So, there was only one way to solve this. Since you had not answered any of the times he had tried knocking on your door – well, tent – he had decided he needed to sit things out. Literally. And that was how he found himself curled into a thin blanket sitting outside your tent, waiting for you to come out.

Xiang had passed him a few times, and he had heard her trying to convince you to talk to him (he had had no influence on the matter, he knew things would only get worse if he tried to drag your sister into all of this), but you had only rejected her encouragement. The only good thing that all of this had, he supposed, was that it seemed like Xiang had taken somewhat of a liking to him. But that probably would only last so long until she decided she needed to side with you in the matter.

The last time the little girl had passed him, it had been to go to her own tent. It had been her own decision, as far as Zuko knew, to sleep all on her own tonight, and Zuko couldn’t help but admire her bravery. After all she had lived through, the imprisonment and torture, she did not fear the dark of her tent, not even on her own.

Now Xiang’s tent was the only one that emitted a slight glow from the glow stone Toph had given her, while all the other tents were quiet and dark. Zuko stared up into the stary sky above him and wondered what you were thinking about. Were you asleep already, or still mad at him? What could he say, do, to make you less mad? Could he give you another seashell? He still had the one he had first found for you after you had given it to him for safekeeping. Should he find more of the same kind and make you a wristband? Or a necklace? Girls liked pretty jewellery, right? Maybe he could give the shells to a goldsmith and have a real necklace made? Or he could try to cook something for you? Maybe something with fresh vegetables from the market?

Before his with sleep hazy brain could come up with any other ideas, a quiet whimper sounded from your tent, making him perk up. For a moment it was quiet, and he almost would have relaxed back against the stone he had been leaning against, when he heard it again. A whimper, as if you were crying. Carefully he sat up, listening more closely. The next time it was more like a sob, accompanied by unintelligible whispering.

That was it, Zuko decided. He needed to see if you were alright. On his knees he crawled over to the entrance of your door and hit his flat palm against the heavy fabric, creating a strange slapping sound.

“Hey, (y/n), it’s me, Zuko, are you okay?”

Instead of a proper answer he just got another sob, and the repeated mumbling of ‘no, no, no’.

“Can I come in? I’m worried about you,” he called again, but when there was no answer, only another sob, he took a deep breath and pushed the fabric over the entrance away.

As he had feared, you were curled in on yourself, entangled on your blanket with tears streaming down your face. But your eyes were closed.

“Don’t hurt- don’t hurt-” you mumbled, slightly shaking your head.

“Hey, hey,” carefully Zuko crawled into the tent, sitting down at your feet and reached up to shake you awake. “You’re having a nightmare, come on, wake up. You’re all safe.”

“Don’t hurt him,” you mumbled, refusing to wake up, making Zuko wonder who he was. Were you having a nightmare about Aang facing off against the Fire Lord? Or about your brother?

“Whatever it is,” Zuko told you, “You need to wake up. It’s just a dream, can you hear me? It’s just a dream.”

“No, no,” your voice gradually grew louder. “Don’t- don’t!”

With a jolt you sat up, frantically tearing at the blanket you had entangled yourself in, as another sob slipped past your lips.

“No, no, no, please no,” you kept mumbling, making Zuko worry more and more by the moment.

“Hey, hey, calm down,” he slowly reached out to you. “It’s okay, you’re awake now.”

Immediately you froze, your widened eyes finding his in the dark.

“Zuko?”

“Yes, it’s me. I’m sorry for coming in here but I heard you crying and-”

He didn’t get to finish his explanation, because a moment later you had thrown your arms around his neck and were crying into his shoulder.

“You’re okay,” you sobbed, “you’re okay.”

“Yes, of course, I am,” Zuko chuckled, carefully pulling you closer again his chest. You were as hot as a furnace. “Why wouldn’t I be.”

“He was shooting lightning at you,” you cried quietly. “Your father. He wanted to kill you.”

Zuko froze. You hadn’t been dreaming about Aang, or your brother. You had been dreaming about him?

“That’s not going to happen,” Zuko promised you, holding you a little tighter. “He’s not going to hurt me. Or you. We’re safe, alright? You’re safe.”

“I’m not worried about me, you idiot,” you sobbed, pushing away from his shoulder. Your eyes were puffy and red from crying. But you were still beautiful. Zuko doubted that there was a moment in which you wouldn’t be beautiful to him. “I’m worried about you!”

“Well,” awkwardly Zuko pulled away from the embrace. You were practically sitting in his lap, which made things more difficult. “I’m safe, too. So… try to go back to sleep, okay? Things won’t seem as bad in the morning.”

“Will you stay with me?”

Through tears you blinked up at him, and for a moment Zuko thought, time had stopped as your question was processing in his mind. You wanted him to stay with you? Until when? Until you had calmed down? Until you had fallen asleep? Honestly, it really didn’t matter, because he would never deny you such a request. Even if he had wanted to (he didn’t), the way you sat in his lap, leaning just far enough back to be able to look at him, rendered any rational thought useless.

“Of course,” Zuko heard himself say, his mouth faster than his thoughts screaming with nervous excitement in his head.

His reply seemed satisfying enough to you, because slowly and uncoordinatedly you crawled out of his lap, flopping your head down on the small pillow. For a moment Zuko sat unmoving, wondering what he should do now? Just sit at your foot end? Sit down next to you? Lay down beside you?

Maybe yesterday morning he would have laid down without hesitation, but he wasn’t sure if you were still mad at him for not telling you about his connection to the 41rst, and it hardly seemed like the right time to ask.

That’s when he noticed that your blanket was pushed haphazardly around your ankles where you had freed your arms earlier from the tangles. Shifting onto his knees, he grabbed the upper edge of the blanket and crawled beside you, carefully covering you with the thin fabric. He was gingerly avoiding your eyes, which he felt following his face in the dark, instead focusing on making sure your body was completely covered.

Suddenly, and without warning, you sat up, wrapping your arms around his neck. Your warm breath fanned over his neck, making the little hair in his nape tingle, and the bare skin of your arms was soft against his.

“Thank you,” you whispered, and Zuko was almost worried you’d start crying again. “Can we just… stay like this for a while?”

“Uhm,” Zuko shifted uncomfortably where he was leaning over you on his knees. “Let me-”

Shifting his weight to the side, he carefully laid down beside you. When he looked up, he found your face was right in front of his. When had you gotten this close? It made his heart beat faster, and he was glad for the lack of lighting otherwise you would have certainly mocked him for how red his face was glowing.

“Can I…” your question trailed off, but even if Zuko hadn’t suspected you wanted to hug him tighter, he would have agreed to anything in this moment.

He nodded, his non-verbal answer more an acoustic sign to you in the dark where his head moved over the pillow, and a moment later you had already scooted closer to him. You were still warm, warm and so alive, he realized as he intuitively wrapped his arms around you to pull you closer. He could feel each of your in- and exhales, and if he paid close attention, he could even feel the beating of your heart against his chest. Your body moulded against his, as if they had been made to be fitted together like this, legs intertwined, arms wrapped around each other, holding tightly. Zuko was not sure whether he held you so tight to comfort you or to assure himself of your presence. Whatever the reason was, you didn’t seem to mind being held like this. It felt like the two of you were an island of warmth in the cool night, just holding and feeling each other, silently regretting any word and action that had ever driven you apart and secretly praying the other would forgive you and let you hold each other just a little longer.

“Zuko?”

Your voice was heavy with sleep as it broke through the silence. Zuko only hummed to signal you he was listening.

“I’m sorry about getting mad at you yesterday.”

“Don’t be,” Zuko answered, his voice so quiet that it wasn’t even a whisper. “I should have told you sooner.”

“Maybe. I don’t know,” you sighed, shifting slightly in his arms and nuzzling your face into his neck. “I just… I don’t want to fight with you. I’m sorry.”

“I don’t want to fight either. I’m sorry, too.”

For a moment silence fell over you, and Zuko wondered how you could be so perfect; so warm and soft in his arms, so cozy against his chest, making him forget anything that wasn’t you, and so understanding, so forgiving for all his many mistakes. He had to do better in the future, to earn the forgiveness, to not give you new reasons why you would have to forgive him.

“Does this mean we’re good,” Zuko asked into the silence of the night, but it was only met with more silence, as your arms slowly lost their tension around his waist and your breaths evened out from having fallen asleep. And it didn’t take Zuko long to fall asleep as well, his dreams filled with nothing but you.

A/N: I know I said this series would be finished by Christmas and that we’re way past that. Tbh I’ve have a not so good time. I’m more often at the doctor’s than in class (therapy, physiotherapy actuall doctor’s appointments…) and have been diagnosed with a metabolic disorder in December, which basically put my life upside down in a way. I know, there are worse things that can happen, especially because in my case it’s easily treatable in our current society, but it’s a lot of change and all these information mess with my head. I have queued the last two chapters, for next Friday and the one after that, so please look forward to these stories. (This phrasing sounds off… I think I might have used Japanese wording for this but in English. That’s where my head is at, I don’t know any language anymore.)

Taglist:

@ghoststookourlifes

@ashcal99

@4acoffee

@pxrplewalnxt

@toomuchboredd

@banished--prince

@oddobsessionbutotay

@makik0

@joysflower

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@tomiokasgwife (you didn't ask to be tagged, but i thought you might be interested in reding the next chapter)

[jettingtothemoon]

A Hunger That Shouldn’t Be Fed; part 1

➳ pairing: harry potter x draco malfoy ➳ genre: smut ➳ warnings: light bondage, humiliation, restraints, really just pwp ➳ word count: 2021 ➳ rating: 18+ ➳ summary: Harry Potter never knew that tailing Draco Malfoy could ever provide him with anything other than further evidence that Draco was up to no good. But now, seeing as he’s under his invisibility cloak watching as Draco — blindfolded and positively writhing — is pulling against his restraints and calling out Harry’s own name, Harry thinks that maybe he’s crossed a line he hadn't realised was there to cross in the first place.

The cobblestones of Diagon Alley were slick with rain, almost shining under the flickering glow of street lamps as Harry walked the quiet street. It was late — too late for most of the shops to still be open — but that was okay. Harry hadn’t come here to browse. He was supposed to be meeting Ron and Hermione in the Leaky Cauldron when he spotted, even through the dark of the night, unmistakable, pale hair.

Draco Malfoy.

He was clad in black, as he usually was, but with a long, shadowy cloak Harry hadn’t seen him wear before. A slender hand pulled the hood closer to his face, and Harry knew right then that Draco was up to no good.

So, in typical Harry fashion, he followed him. Ron and Hermione would understand, especially if Harry learned anything useful about what Draco had been up to lately. He’d been acting… strange. Well, stranger than usual at least. So much so that the trio had decided to keep an even closer eye on him than they already were, particularly given his father’s links to the very people they were fighting.

Bumping into Draco here, watching as his slim frame disappeared down Knockturn Alley, Harry knew there wouldn’t be another opportunity quite as golden as this. But that didn’t stop his stomach from tightening as he pulled his invisibility cloak around him. He hadn’t planned on needing it tonight, but the cloak had become something of a habit. Better to have it and not need it than to need it and not have it these days. Besides, Knockturn Alley was no place for a lone Wizard, especially at this time of night.

Harry kept his footsteps feather light as he followed after Malfoy, his breaths shallow as they slipped through the winding alleys. Every now and then, Malfoy would look over his shoulder as if he knew someone was there. And every time, Harry’s heart would catch like a lump in his throat. But Malfoy didn’t stop and neither did he cast. He just pulled his hood closer, pale fingers clinging to the dark fabric.

Finally, the chase was up and Malfoy slipped into a narrow doorway at the end of a dead-end alley. The door closed behind him with a quiet thud, and Harry waited, listening outside. Nothing moved. No voices. No signs of anyone else in the area. Just quiet.

He hesitated, his hand brushing the edges of the cloak. He could turn around right now and pretend he’d never seen Malfoy in the first place. But if the boy really was up to something then surely Harry had to find out what it was. So, Harry quietly pushed the door open and tiptoed inside.

The muffle charm seemed to have only been cast on the outer walls so, now inside, Harry followed the faint sound of voices. As he walked, the air seemed to grow thicker with the scent of burnt herbs and something sweeter, almost pleasant.

He found himself descending into the bowels of the building, cringing at every quiet creek that came from the stairs underfoot.

Just a little down the hushed corridor, he could hear what almost sounded like someone crying from behind one of the doors. Someone who sounded an awful lot like Malfoy.

His brows furrowed then, wondering whether Malfoy had finally bit off more than he could chew. The thought alone almost made him laugh, but then he tried to think of what few things could elicit a response like that from Draco. There was only one conclusion; it had to be something bad.

Before he could push the door aside and see for himself, however, he jolted to the side at the sound of approaching footsteps. A young man walked right up to him carrying a pot of tea, stopping in front of the very same door. He knocked on it and waited patiently for a voice Harry didn’t recognise to call out from inside, ushering him in.

Of course, the moment was too good for Harry to pass it up. So, he quickly followed the man inside. Nothing could have prepared him for what he was about to find.

“Just put it down over there,” the unknown voice said as the man it belonged to pointed to a small table beside him. “Oh, come now Draco, don’t be shy. I know you enjoy being seen like this.”

Harry’s breath caught in his throat because, strung up in the middle of the room, bound and blindfolded was Draco Malfoy. With his hands fastened securely above his head, he stood there entirely nude, his pale body twisting as he pulled against his restraints.

Malfoy’s head lolled to the side, his snowy hair damp with sweat, chest rising and falling in shallow breaths. “P… Please…”

“What was that?” the unknown man asked, dismissing the servant who had brought his tea with a wave of his hand. Harry didn’t recognise him, but he could see now that Malfoy had indeed gotten himself into trouble because there was no way he would ever—

“Please… Harry…”

All the blood suddenly drained from Harry’s face, his heart thundering in his chest. What the bloody hell had he walked into?

Malfoy made that sound again, the one that Harry originally thought to be him crying but now knew to be none other than a desperate whimper. And then his body strained even more, his toes barely on the floor as he all but hung from his binds.

“That’s a good boy. What a filthy little thing you are, coming here to fantasise about the boy who lived… When you fight with him,” the man asked, running a finger along Draco’s chest, “Do you think about what it would be like to lose? To be completely at his mercy?”

Malfoy bit at his bottom lip and nodded, a choked, affirmative hum of a noise rumbling through his lips when the other man dragged a nail across his perked nipple.

Harry wanted to look away. This felt like a violation — something he was never supposed to see, a line he was never meant to cross — but he couldn’t take his eyes away. They were transfixed, completely glued to the boy he had loathed for so many years.

A boy who was proud and obnoxious and mean and, in all honesty, a complete and utter pratt. But that wasn’t the boy Harry was looking at now. No, because the Draco Malfoy he knew would never come to a place like this, would never let someone defile him in the way he was being defiled now.

And yet, here they were. Harry, still hiding under his cloak and Draco, strung up and bare, completely at his mercy. Only, he wasn’t at Harry’s mercy. He was at the mercy of this unknown man. A wizard who should have been of little significance to Harry, but seeing him now — doing such things to Malfoy, making him squirm like this — had Harry feeling a great deal of unexpected emotions. Especially when it was so clear to him now that Draco had certainly visited this establishment more than once before.

It was ridiculous. It was shameful. Pitiful, even. But most of all, it was… arousing?

Harry couldn’t stop his eyes as they raked over Draco’s body. From the way he worried his quivering bottom lip pink right down to the hard length between his legs, standing so perfectly at attention as he was teased and touched and prodded. It twitched, the darkened tip smudging Malfoy’s own premature fluids over his stomach where his muscles were pulled tight. Had he always been this slim, Harry wondered? So delicate and fragile?

No. This could not be Malfoy. Perhaps it was polyjuice potion used to fulfil the lustful desires of the man Harry was watching now. The one with his hands all over the person who looked like Draco. The man who now stepped up close to the false Malfoy’s half-hanging figure and grabbed his jaw tight. The man who planted his slobbery lips against his as he let his other hand run along the arch of Draco’s back, forcing him closer.

Harry had to bite back a gasp at the sound Malfoy made next when the man’s hands landed on his behind, grabbing and pulling and kneading at his cheeks. Harry couldn't stop his feet from moving until he was standing behind Draco now, his curious eyes far too eagerly focused as the unknown wizard spread Malfoy open, one finger rubbing teasing circles around his hole.

It was so deliciously pink against his paper-white skin, and Harry almost found himself wanting to reach out and touch it too.

“Ah, but we’ve only just started, haven’t we? Best not to get to the good bit too soon, eh?”

Just like that there were no longer hands on Draco, and his body hung there still. He almost lost balance as the unknown man stepped away, his toes stumbling where they only just touched the ground.

He whimpered again then, sounding almost as though he was in pain, his breath coming out shallow and rushed as he begged, “Please… I… I can’t…”

“Can’t what?” the man asked as he poured himself a cup of tea from the still steaming pot. “Use your words, Draco.”

Draco swallowed, his adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. His tongue darted out to wet his swelling lips, and Harry found himself moving closer still, circling around Malfoy with wide eyes as though to savour every wretched moment of this.

“Let me cum,” his voice was still a strangled, sorry thing, his throbbing cock twitching with every vulgar word that fell from his lips. “Please… I want… I want to cum.”

Harry’s eyes flickered to the other man in the room when he chuckled and took a sip of his tea. He ran his middle finger around the edge of his cup, a lopsided smirk curling onto his face as his hungry eyes took in the sight before him — the sight of Draco Malfoy falling apart.

“And who is it you really want to touch you? It certainly isn’t me, is it?” his expression darkened as he stood from his chair, walking slowly over to Draco, making sure the blindfolded boy could hear his heavy footsteps coming closer with every step.

He reached out slowly, fingers only lightly touching the skin of Malfoy’s cock. Then, he cupped Draco’s balls, pulling a muffled whine from the boy as he squeezed. “Go on, tell me. Who’s hand do you really want wrapped around your pathetic little cock?”

“H…Harry,” Draco said, his jaw tight as he tried to blink back tears. They fell anyway, one sliding out from under his blindfold and onto his cheek. “I want Harry’s hand around my cock… I want him to ravish me, to touch me, to taste me.”

The man with his hand on Draco’s cock smirked again then, leaning close to his face as he laughed. “Pathetic. What would your father say, if he could see you now? Or would you like that? Imagine it, Draco. All tied up and spread on Potter’s cock, just for your father to walk in and catch you in the middle of your perverted fantasies.”

Malfoy bit into his lip again, this time drawing blood as he moaned. “Please,” his voice was almost inaudible now, so lost in his state of ecstasy. “Let me come… Harry…”

Harry’s cheeks flushed the deepest shade of red and he realised, only then, that he was already hard. His hand moved to palm himself through his trousers as he watched the unknown wizard stroke Draco’s cock — the latter writhing at the touch — it was all so wrong.

He should not have been turned on by this. Should not have felt such an intense desire to be the one touching Draco instead. He hated him, for Merlin’s sake. But seeing him now, crying out Harry’s own name as he came undone, his hot release shooting so high some of it plastered across his own chest, made it really fucking hard to think of anything else.

[daincrediblegg]

Unpopular opinion, mostly a joke: if Crozier just bit the bullet and fucked the rat man, there's a 50/50 chance that the result would either be fixing everything and thus sating Hickey's desperate need for approval, or making everything unfathomably, cataclysmically, world-endingly worse. And it IS 50/50. A coin toss.

strongly agree | agree | neutral | disagree | strongly disagree

Look. I’ve been around the horn. I’ve seen some fics. Being a violent Crozier enjoyer and deeply concerned about the mental state that could provoke such a decision in him, I can’t condone. And tbh I remain fully convinced that hickey’s little puppy sickness can’t be fucked out even by the daddiest of daddies (which by my own unpopular opinion crozier isn’t quite that. He’s had his moments sure but that’s not the whole of him and honestly I think he’d puke if anyone ever called him that). But I think the souls who explore that in fic are very brave and I wish much prozac upon them in their future.