#never read a book that made me feel so seen before

[hanafubukki]

Can be seen as a continuation for this fic and this one.

Riddle never thought he would be the type of father who would show off photos of his child to his colleagues when given the chance. If someone from Heartslabyul were the type to proudly show off pictures, most would guess Cater or Deuce, or even Trey. It doesn’t take much for Riddle to take out his phone or his wallet where he kept them.

The ones on his phone ranged from cute and proper photos to those taken candidly, angled and blurred in some and othersof a face too close to the camera or only of a wide smile seen.

The ones in his wallet weren’t much different. Some were crisp cut photos, freshly printed. While others worn with age and many folds and some with cute stickers and decor.

If one were to visit his home, they would see a house filled with frames; of smiles tender and sweet.

Riddle kept every photo ever taken.

He wanted to blame you for the mess in the kitchen caused from baking, but Riddle knew he was just as guilty.

Flour settled on the counter after floating in the air from being flickered at each other.

Giggles heard as the little one drew smiles on the counter from where they stood on the stool.

He blew at the stray strands stuck to his face that were now coated in white.

Smiling at the squeal as he picked up his child and placed them on the counter. He placed the bowl on the little one’s lap and covered their hand with his.

This mess will need to be cleaned up later.

For now, the strawberry tart took precedence.

He lightly nudged you away with his hip and scrunched his nose at you when you mentioned if he wanted the oyster sauce.

Riddle would watch whenever his mother visited.

His relationship with her was cordial at best.

He respected her for her achievements, but even he knew she wasn’t mother of the year.

She would make comments about his little one’s studies and development in magic. How they should have their unique magic by now.

Riddle maintained his child would develop it at their own time. Every child’s milestone is different and he felt no need to push his.

It was always a tense affair with her. More of a formal meeting with a boss than meeting a parent.

But she treated her grandchild well enough and with no incidents, he made sure of it.

If one were to ask him what his favorite time of the day was, he would reply nighttime.

Riddle loves reading books. He loves it even more when he reads to his little one.

Reclining on a softly worn leather chair, a blanket wrapped around him and his child as they read a book.

Riddle would let them pick a book and he would read to them. His child would join in at times or question a passage he didn’t understand. He would patiently explain it every time. He would wait as they would try to pronounce a word and gently correct them at times.

He loves to watch as his little one would yawn and curl into him as the activity of the day got to them. His voice would gradually quieten as their breathing deepened.

He would pick them up and carry them to their room. Too old to sleep in his bed but he made sure to tell them they’re always welcome to come in, his door unlocked for them always.

Riddle tucks them into bed, laying a kiss on their head, before leaving.

He joins you in bed.

His world at peace.

Been in a Riddle feels lately, and then the newest JP twst update came for my throat and inspired this. Riddle doing everything he ever wanted with his family. 🥹💞💚 Never denying his child that love and comfort. He’s at peace 💞🥰🥹

Ngl I debated about Mrs. Rosehearts and her role in his life, and I think I like how I portrayed it here. Despite everything he went through, he still respect her and her achievements. Feelings and relationships are complex after all. But, I also believe he wouldn’t allow history to repeat itself with his child. 🥺🫶

I also thought of the whole parents who are strict becoming less so with grandchildren route but…honestly, that always irked me and gives me mixed feelings. Even irl, it’s like?? You put your child through so much? And suddenly think everything is okay? Or can be changed because you’re older? What about the hurt you caused?

Besides, I see Mrs. Rosehearts stubborn even in her old age lolol 🤣😆

I hope you enjoyed the fic 💞💚 I was probably a bit too telling with my notes but…it’s okay, I feel most of us Riddle fans have similar experiences and can relate to these emotions. 🙏🥺

[xlettex]

In This Life and The Next||wakatoshi ushijima Reincarnation Au - The Second Lifetime

You slipped into Wakatoshi's life so effortlessly, as if you had always belonged there. Love with you was steady, certain—something he never had to question. But fate is cruel. Bound by a love that transcends lifetimes, he’s haunted by the feeling that this isn’t the first time he’s had to say goodbye. Some loves are too strong for just one lifetime. But in this one, their story is doomed to end the same way.

pairing - wakatoshi ushijima x reader genre - tragic romance rating - 13+ chapter word count - 4.6k content warning - angst, grief, loss, terminal illness, emotional distress

Authors Note: Something about wakatoshi ushijima screams writing an angst story to me.

the first lifetime <- the second lifetime -> the last lifetime

Wakatoshi never believed in fate—only in discipline, precision, and effort. Love had always seemed like an afterthought, a distant thing meant for others. Then he met you.

It wasn’t dramatic—no sparks of destiny, no grand revelation. Just an autumn afternoon, the scent of freshly brewed coffee curling through the air, and a stranger who changed everything.

He had seen you before, hovering at the café counter, your presence always accompanied by an air of curiosity. But today was different.

This was the first time he noticed the delicate silver star hanging from a thin chain around your neck. The small pendant caught the café lights, glinting like something familiar, though he had no reason to recognize it. 

Then, without hesitation, you slid into the seat across from him, arms full of books, your lopsided grin filled with something both confident and teasing

"Are you always this stoic, or did I catch you on a bad day?"

He blinked at you, momentarily caught off guard. "I’m not stoic."

You tilted your head, unconvinced. "Debatable."

And just like that, his world shifted.

You became a fixture in his life before he could even question it. Your meetings weren’t planned, yet you always found your way to him, slipping into the chair across from him as though it had been reserved for you all along. 

Some days you came armed with questions about the book he was reading, challenging his thoughts, playfully disagreeing just to watch him counter your points. Other times you brought your novels, quietly sipping your coffee beside him, content in the shared silence.

And sometimes, when you were lost in thought—your fingers would brush over the star pendent absentmindedly—he would catch himself staring, a strange unease settling deep in his chest.

He never asked you about it, but the feeling lingered.

The first time you didn’t show up, he noticed.

The café felt too quiet, the air lacking the warmth you so effortlessly carried. He told himself it didn’t matter, that you were just some passing presence in his routine, but the next day, when you reappeared and dropped into the chair across from him with an exaggerated sigh, complaining about a missed train, he felt his chest ease.

That was when he realized he had been waiting for you.

Your love grew in the spaces between conversations—shared glances over coffee cups, the way your laughter softened the edges of his world, the quiet walks taken down lamplit streets, your hands brushing together like magnets pulling toward one another. 

He never reached first, always hesitant, but you were fearless in the way you touched him—light nudges when you made fun of him, casual hand-holding as you walked, arms linked when you pulled him toward a shop window to admire something he hadn’t noticed before.

One evening, you reached for his hand without thinking, intertwining your fingers as you crossed a small bridge. The river reflected the city lights, shimmering in the dark like scattered constellations.

You were mid-sentence when you noticed his silence.

“What?” you asked, glancing up at him.

He didn’t answer right away, instead, he stared at the joined hands, the warmth of your skin pressed against his own.

You laughed softly, following his eyes. “You act like I haven’t held your hand a hundred times before.”

Maybe you had–maybe in some other life, this was just another moment in an eternity of reaching for one another.

His grip on your hand tightened slightly, then his gaze drifted—to the delicate silver star resting just above your collarbone, glinting softly in the glow of the streetlights.

You always wore it.

Even now, as your fingers curled easily around his, your free hand instinctively brushed over the pendant, rolling it between your fingertips

“That necklace… you never take it off.” His voice was quieter now, contemplative.

You glanced down at it, thumb grazing over the tiny charm. “I don’t know why… but I never do.”

There was something distant in how you said it as if you weren’t entirely sure of the reason. But the way you held it—the way you needed to hold it—sent a strange ache through his chest.

“You’ve got this whole mysterious, brooding thing going for you,” you teased, nudging him playfully, lightening the air again. “But I know you have a soft side.”

He raised an eyebrow. "Do I?"

You squeezed his hand, your smile turning softer. "Yeah. I see it in the way you look at me."

Wakatoshi had never been good with words and had never known how to articulate the depth of how he felt. But at that moment, he wanted to tell you everything—that you had become his home, his anchor, the one thing that felt constant in a world that never stopped moving. Instead, he cupped your face, leaned down, and kissed you, letting the press of his lips speak the words he couldn’t.

You moved in soon after, seamlessly slipping into his life as if you had always belonged there. Your presence was everywhere—your books scattered across the shelves, your laughter filling the spaces between the walls, your scent lingering in the fabric of his sweaters when you borrowed them. You left notes on the fridge, playful reminders, and small affections scribbled in your looping handwriting.

Eat something before practice. I love you. Did you know you talk in your sleep? It’s adorable. I stole your hoodie. Again. You’ll survive.

You hummed in the kitchen as you made coffee, your soft melodies carrying through the apartment. Sometimes, he would find you curled up on the couch, one of his oversized sweaters draped over your frame, a book resting open in your lap as you waited for him to join you.

But it was the quiet moments he loved most. The ones that didn’t seem significant at the time but stayed with him long after.

Like the way you got ready in the morning—still wrapped in a blanket, still half-asleep as you leaned into his side while brushing your teeth beside him. You never said much in those moments, just murmured a sleepy “morning” before wrapping your arms around his middle. 

And maybe, just maybe, that was what love looked like to him—sleepy grumbles, warm embraces, and the quiet comfort of knowing someone was always there.

He wasn’t always good with words, but he showed love in the way he always made sure your phone was charged before bed, in the way he shifted closer in his sleep just to keep you warm, in the way he adjusted your blankets in the middle of the night without waking you.

You understood him without needing grand gestures. He didn’t need to tell you he loved you every second of the day—you already knew. Because love was in the smallest things, in the way his hand always found yours in a crowded space, in the way he memorized your coffee order. And in return, you made his world softer, warmer.

Mornings became your favorite part of the day. He was always up first, a creature of habit, but you weren’t far behind. You would shuffle into the kitchen, still heavy with sleep, your hair tousled from the night before. He started making your coffee just the way you liked it—honey instead of sugar, a little too much milk. And every morning, you would smile at him over the rim of your cup like it was the best thing you had ever tasted.

"Perfect, as always," you would say, pressing a kiss to his cheek before settling into the chair across from him.

And he would watch you, coffee in hand, memorizing the way you looked bathed in the early morning light as if he could trap time in those moments.

One evening, as you lay tangled together in bed, you murmured, “What would you do if you could live a thousand lifetimes?”

He was quiet for a moment, his fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns along your spine. Then, in a voice so steady, so certain, he answered—

“Find you.”

As if it was the simplest thing in the world.

And maybe it was.

Because love—your love—was something that had always existed. Even before this life. Even after it. And deep down, maybe he had always known that, too.

You fit into his world so seamlessly that he forgot what life had been like before you.

And yet, no matter how tightly he held onto you, no matter how deeply he loved you, it would never be enough to stop what was coming.

It started as a simple cough—harmless, fleeting. You brushed it off with a wave of your hand, laughing when he frowned.

"Just the change in weather," you assured him. "I’m fine."

But it didn’t go away.

At first, it was subtle—small moments he almost convinced himself weren’t real. The way you cleared your throat too often. The way you pressed your palm against your chest absentmindedly. The way you seemed just a little too tired after a long day, resting your head against his shoulder earlier than usual.

"You should sleep more," he murmured one night as they lay in bed, his fingers brushing through your hair.

"Maybe," you hummed in response, eyes already drifting closed.

He told himself it was nothing. That you were simply overworked. That the seasons were changing. That you would be fine.

Then the coughing fits came. Deeper. More persistent. Some were so strong they left you winded, struggling to catch your breath.

"Maybe you should see a doctor," he said one evening, watching as you rubbed a hand over your throat.

You waved him off with a smile, pressing a kiss to his cheek as if that could ease his concern.

"It’s nothing," you murmured. "Just a little run-down."

And he let himself believe you.

Until the morning he woke to the sound of your coughing—deep, wracking, painful.

The kind of cough that tore through your chest, rattling in your lungs. The kind that made the sheets tremble with your small frame.

He turned over in an instant, eyes heavy with sleep before quickly sharpening in focus.

"Baby?"

You were gripping the blankets, your body curled in on itself, your face pale. When you pulled your hand away from your mouth, his stomach clenched.

Blood.

It was just a smear of red against your palm. Small. Almost unnoticeable. But to Wakatoshi, it was enormous, the weight of it crashing into him like a tidal wave.

You stared at your hand for a long moment, as if you couldn’t quite believe it either. Your breath was uneven, eyes flicking up to meet his own.

And then, finally, you sighed.

"Okay," you whispered. "Maybe I should see a doctor."

The waiting room was sterile and cold, the kind of cold that seeped into your bones, making you feel as if you’d never be warm again. The walls were a lifeless gray, the soft hum of fluorescent lights buzzing faintly overhead.

Wakatoshi sat beside you, his fingers intertwined with yours, gripping them too tightly. He could feel the bones beneath his palm, how delicate they suddenly seemed. You had always been small compared to him, but now, you felt fragile.

You leaned into him, exhaustion clinging to you like a second skin.

Neither of them spoke.

When the doctor arrived, his words were careful, and cautious, as if they might soften the blow of what he was about to say.

"It’s advanced."

A pause.

"We’ll do everything we can."

Another pause.

"We can fight it, but…"

But.

That single word sliced through him, jagged and unrelenting.

Wakatoshi barely registered the rest, his ears ringing, his breath tight in his lungs. He only noticed the way your hand had gone still in his, how the room felt unbearably small, closing in on them with every second.

He clenched his jaw, barely suppressing the tremor in his fingers.

"We’ll fight it," he said, a promise, a plea, a desperate refusal to accept what they were being told.

You exhaled slowly, your lips curving into something that was meant to be a smile.

"Yeah," you murmured. "We will."

But you knew.

And deep down, so did he.

The days following the diagnosis felt like they were moving in slow motion.

You went through the motions of treatment, but there was something different in the way you moved. A quiet acceptance in the way you carried yourself. He hated it.

He wanted you to fight. He needed you to fight.

So he researched.

At night, after you had fallen asleep, he sat in the dim glow of his laptop screen, reading every article, every clinical trial, every treatment option that could give them hope. He called doctors, and hospitals and reached out to people he hadn’t spoken to in years, searching for something—anything—that could fix this.

"You’re not eating enough," he murmured one morning, setting a plate in front of you.

You smiled at him, but it didn’t quite reach your eyes.

"I’m just not hungry."

"You need to eat." His voice was firm, the same unwavering certainty he used on the court, in the weight room, and in every area of his life where effort equaled results.

But this wasn’t like that.

Because no matter how much effort he put in, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t fix this. You reached for his hand instead of the food.

"Toshi."

The way you said his name—soft, understanding—sent a sharp pain through his chest.

"You can’t make this go away."

His jaw tightened, his fingers twitching slightly in yours.

"I can try."

Your gaze held his for a long moment before you finally spoke, your voice barely above a whisper.

"I know you want to, but… some things just aren’t in our control."

He didn’t want to hear that, didn’t want to accept it.

You were his. And he had always believed that if he worked hard enough, pushed hard enough, he could hold onto the things that mattered.

But this was slipping from his grasp, and no amount of strength could stop it.

So he did the only thing he could.

He held you.

He held you when you were too weak to stand. He held you when you cried in frustration at your own body betraying you. He held you in the middle of the night when the pain was too much, when you clung to him, shaking, and whispered apologies into his chest as if you had any reason to be sorry.

"I hate this," you confessed one night, your voice trembling.

"I know," he whispered back, pressing his lips to your forehead.

He wanted to tell you that he would trade places with you in a second. That he would take the pain, the exhaustion, the sickness if it meant you could stay. But words felt useless, hollow. So instead, he held you tighter, as if he could tether you here just by will alone.

But he was losing you.

Day by day.

Your body grew weaker, exhaustion settling deep in your bones, the color slowly draining from your cheeks.

But still, you wore the necklace.

He noticed it more now.

The way your fingers drifted to it absently, rolling the delicate silver star between them, as if grounding yourself in something unseen.

The way you clung to it in your sleep, fingers curled around the charm as if it held a promise only you understood.

The way, even as your body betrayed you, you never once took it off.

One night, as you lay curled against his chest, he traced the chain lightly, where it rested against your collarbone.

"Why do you always wear this?" His voice was quiet, uncertain.

Your fingers found the pendant instantly as if they had always known where it was.

You smiled faintly but didn’t answer right away.

"I don’t know," you admitted softly. "It just… feels like I have to."

There was something in the way you said it—a quiet certainty in an answer that didn’t quite make sense—that sent an ache curling through his chest.

He didn’t press further.

Didn’t ask why your fingers always held it a little tighter when you thought he wasn’t looking.

Didn’t ask why, even as your body failed you, you never once thought to take it off. 

He just watched and memorized.

Memorized the way your fingers curled around the charm in your sleep rolling it absentmindedly between them– like a habit older than time itself.

Later, he would understand…

..when it was far too late.

The months stretched on, and you grew weaker. 

Your laughter became quieter, your steps slower, your touch featherlight. But still, you smiled for him.

"You’re not supposed to cry," you teased one evening, brushing your fingers against his cheek. He hadn’t even realized he was crying.

"I don’t want you to be sad," you whispered, your voice raw from the illness stealing you away.

"How could I not be?" His voice was steady, but something was breaking beneath it. "You are my whole world."

You chuckled softly. "You make it sound like I’m vanishing forever."

He said nothing because the truth was too unbearable. He wished he could stop time, and hold you a little longer. But the reality was cruel.

There were good days, and Wakatoshi clung to them like lifelines. One afternoon, you twirled in the living room, laughing as you pulled him close. 

"Dance with me."

He held you carefully, afraid you might disappear right there in his arms. And for a moment, nothing had changed. You were still here, still warm, still looking up at him with the same brightness in your eyes that had captivated him from the start.

Then there were the bad days. The laughter faded, replaced by coughing fits that tore through your small frame, your body curling inward as you struggled to breathe. Panic clawed at his chest as he held you upright, rubbing soothing circles into your back, his voice murmuring, “Breathe, baby. Breathe.”

You gasped against his chest, shaking your head, your fingers clutching onto him as though you were terrified of slipping away. By the time it passed, your body was limp, exhausted, your face pale and damp with sweat.

That night, he carried you to bed, cradling you like you were made of porcelain like you might shatter if he wasn’t careful. He lay beside you, tucking the blankets around you as if they could protect you from what was coming. His fingers brushed over your knuckles, his lips against your temple, whispering "I love you, I love you," as if saying it enough times could root you to this world.

But love wasn’t enough.

You prepared him in the only way you could—leaving notes hidden in places you knew he would find them long after you were gone.

Some were folded in his gym bag, others tucked between the pages of books on the shelves, and one—sealed inside the pocket of his coat.

I love you. You’ll be okay, even if you don’t believe it now.

He found them too soon.

Days after finding your notes, he sat beside you, the weight of them still heavy in his chest.

The hospital lighting was harsh—too bright, too sterile—casting cold shadows against the walls. It made everything feel unnatural, as if this moment wasn’t real, as if you weren’t fading before him.

The machines hummed softly, an IV drip slowly feeding into your veins. The rhythmic beep of the heart monitor was steady, a quiet reminder that time was slipping through his fingers. You reached for his hand, your grip weaker than it had ever been. He immediately laced his fingers with yours, grounding you both. 

"Read to me?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

His throat tightened, but he nodded, reaching for the book you had always loved. His voice was steady, and measured, even as his chest ached with every word.

Your eyes fluttered shut as he read, a small, tired smile gracing your lips. Your free fingers drifted to your necklace, rolling the delicate silver star between them as if anchoring yourself to something unseen.

Next time," you murmured, your voice so faint he almost missed it. "In our next life, let’s meet sooner."

His grip on your hand tightened.

"We will."

And he kept reading.

But before he could finish the next page, you shifted slightly against the pillows, your voice soft but laced with something undeniably you—that teasing familiarity, even now.

"Toshi?"

He stopped mid-sentence, eyes flicking to your face.

"Yeah?"

You smiled—weak, tired—but still so vibrant.

"Can you get me some of that terrible hospital jello?"

For a second, he almost laughed, a breath of relief slipping through his lips at the sheer normalcy of it.

"Yeah, love. I’ll be right back."

It was such a simple request. Such an ordinary moment. And he let himself believe, just for a little while longer, that there was still time. That you would still be here when he came back.

That this wasn’t the last time.

He left the book on the bedside table, stood up, and stepped out of the room. It took him only minutes to return—barely enough time for the gelatin to wobble in the flimsy cup he carried.

But as soon as he stepped inside, he knew. The untouched jello slipped from his fingers. The small plastic cup hit the ground with a muted thud, red pooling across the sterile white tile.

But he didn’t notice.

Didn’t care.

Because everything was still.

Too still.

He hesitated in the doorway, gripping the frame as if it was the only thing keeping him upright. The air felt thick, suffocating, pressing in around him with a silence that felt wrong.

He tried to push past it.

You're just asleep, he told himself. You're resting. You're still here.

But then he realized—he couldn’t hear it.

The steady beeping of the heart monitor. The quiet, rhythmic sound that had become the backdrop to every moment spent at the hospital.

It was gone.

His stomach lurched.

Your pillow was still indented, the blankets carefully tucked around you—just as he had left them. The book he had been reading to you remained untouched, its last words still hanging in the air—never to be heard, never to be finished. The cup of coffee he had made that morning sat untouched, long gone cold.

Everything was the same. And yet, everything had changed. His feet felt heavy, like wading through water, like if he walked too fast, reality would catch up with him.

His hands shook as he reached for you, heart hammering, whispering a plea before he even touched you—

Please, please, please—

"My love," he whispered, reaching for your hand.

Still warm.

But limp.

His fingers closed around yours, squeezing gently. You didn’t squeeze back. His stomach dropped. He tried again, this time a little firmer, searching for any sign of response.

Nothing.

A sharp breath punched from his chest, his throat burning as he sucked in air that refused to fill his lungs.

"Baby?"

You didn’t move. He swallowed hard, forcing himself to stay calm, to be rational, to not fall apart—not yet.

He lifted your fingers to his lips, pressing a desperate kiss against them, but they remained limp in his grasp. His free hand ghosted over your cheek, then curled under your chin, tilting your face toward him.

You looked peaceful. Your lashes rested lightly against your skin, your lips still slightly parted, as if you had only just exhaled.

A strangled sound escaped his throat.

"No."

He leaned down, pressing his forehead against yours, his body shaking as his arms wrapped around you.

"No, no—baby, come back."

But you had waited for him to leave before letting go. The realization hit like a knife to the gut, twisting deep.

You had known. You had known and hadn’t told him. Had let him walk out that door, let him believe he had more time, let him think he could return to you still breathing.

You had done this for him. You had spared him the pain of watching you die. And somehow, that only made it worse.

"Why?" His voice was hoarse, broken, barely more than a whisper. "Why didn’t you tell me?"

Why hadn’t you let him be there? Had you thought it would hurt him less? Had you thought it would make it easier?

Didn’t you know that losing you—again—would never be easy?

A sob wrenched itself free from his chest, sudden and forceful, sending his whole body lurching forward. His forehead pressed against your shoulder, his fingers digging into the fabric of your shirt, clinging to the last traces of warmth in your skin.

"I should have stayed," he choked out. "I should have known—I should have—"

His voice broke entirely, dissolving into something unrecognizable.

If he had just been here. If he had held you, whispered to you, told you one last time how much he loved you If he had stayed.

If, if, if.

But he hadn’t.

And you were gone.

He needed someone to blame.

The universe. The doctors. Fate itself.

But when the silence stretched on, swallowing him whole, there was only one name that echoed back at him.

His own.

He had left you.

And now, you had died alone.

His shoulders shook violently as he buried himself into you, gasping for air that wouldn’t come. His hands grasped at you, desperate, helpless, his body curled around yours as he could somehow keep you anchored to him if he just held on tight enough.

But you weren’t coming back. The room was unbearably still. And then he saw it.

Next to you, lying carefully atop your final note, was the silver star necklace.

The chain had been unclasped, the delicate charm placed gently on the folded paper—not discarded, not forgotten, but waiting. As if, even in your final moments, you had known.

As if you had left it for him. His hands shook as he reached for it, lifting the tiny star into his palm. You had taken it off.

For the first time.

As if you had known he would need something to hold onto. As if you had wanted him to keep this piece of you.

His breath hitched, vision blurring, as his thumb instinctively brushed over the charm, rolling it between his fingers—just as you always had.

A shudder ran through him.

The motion was familiar.

Too familiar.

It was muscle memory. A habit that had never belonged to him. And yet, his fingers knew exactly how to move.

Something inside him cracked.

A battlefield. A letter never answered. A love waiting in vain for a soldier who never came home.

The memory slammed into him like a tidal wave, rushing past the walls of time, drowning him in the weight of something he had long forgotten.

But you hadn’t forgotten. You had known. You had waited for him then, just as you had waited for him now.

And just like before, he hadn’t made it in time.

His breath came sharp and uneven as his trembling fingers unfolded the note beneath the necklace.

There were only five words.

Yours, always. In this life and the next.

Fate had stolen you from him.

Again.

In this life.

In the one before it.

In every existence, they were given.

A cruel, relentless cycle, where no matter how tightly he held on, no matter how desperately he reached for you, something always pulled you away.

It was always like this.

Loving you.

Losing you

Finding you again, just to lose you once more.

Left behind, holding onto ghosts, remembering a love that was never meant to last.

But even through the gut-wrenching grief, through the unbearable weight of regret, he knew this wasn’t the end.

Because some loves are too strong to be bound by just one existence.

And in the next life, he would find you again.

And next time—next time—he would not let you go.

[azurem]

IM SORRY. IF SOMBD ALREADYY ASKED ABT IT buuuuut what's your take on inkmare first kiss or confession??? Chaos chaos, evil chaos

Uhhh. i do not remember well to be honest. I remember asking how the first kiss would be, however!

My take on the confession is that it was the one that happened first, when the relationship still was somewhat unilateral. Nightmare realized he had somewhat of a crush, and, assuming it was something about possessiveness (aka he thought it was a childish whim he wanted to quell), quickly proceeded to action. Like. Second truce done, friendship established and he didn't take long to confess.

I assume it was a mix of you-do-this-to-me + a try-to-sell-something-to-you kind of talk? Like. He wasn't quite sure if Ink reciprocated (which was kinda the situation) so he was sure to market himself and his question like something beneficial (though he was still kinda grumpy with it cuz he also has the unconscious thought that the crush existing™ was an act done against him. Like, the thought that this was Ink's fault and that he had to take at least some responsability about it)

I imagine it was quite attractive (of an offer). And Ink did find it entertaining enough he accepted. I imagine it happened when they were in one of their recreational meetings (aka probs reading inside nm's library or inside a geno au) likeeee

"...I've made a mistake," Nightmare said. Ink looked up at him from his place, sitting cross legged on the floor. They placed the book down. "This— a horrible mistake."

Ink just stared at him. The question marks of their eyes made him die a bit. They smiled at him. "C'mon, you're a confessed torturer. Can't be that serious."

But it was. He briefly considered sitting down, just to see them eye to eye, but Ink was already up and coming closer. The motion resulted on their elbows resting on his desk, their torso leaning forward.

"Hmmm?"

He really should have planned a better scenery for this kind of thing. Still, he couldn't let himself be intimidated, much less so when Ink was being so brave about it. "You're cruel."

This was not the response they expected. Nightmare saw him get their arms back to their sides, their back straightening. Ink's lost face stared back at him, their eyes wider than usual.

"You—" he couldn't help the way his hand shielded his mouth for a moment, as if he couldn't figure out the reason why his voice was acting. "You're— all I think about, now."

He had to fight against the instinctual need to hide himself like a child. It was sickening. He had vowed to himself to never let himself feel this small. And yet.

"You plague my mind," Nightmare said —as his hand went down from his mouth, it landed on his chest, squeezing the fabric with the need to touch— "since when, I don't know."

Ink's breath hitched with realization, flustered like one who'd suddenly find their seed peeking out from the ground in leaves. Oh. Oh!

"I don't know how," Nightmare continued, something like bitterness on his tongue before it cleared to something warmer. "But you've— you've enthralled me. I want you. As such, I need you."

"...huh."

"If you want me to beg—" Nightmare took a moment. Whatever he was about to say died in his mouth. "All I need now is a promise. An attempt. Anything."

"This is— hm. This— y'know—" Ink fidgeted with his hands, surprised when he found his cheeks warm. It was a sickening, horrible feeling. It tasted purple in his mouth, it tasted pink. The same feeling willed him to cover his mouth with both hands, unwilling to let it out on the floor.

When Nightmare looked at him cover himself as if he had something to hide, Ink felt something new. A new type of fear he never knew before. Why?

"...Of course," Nightmare said after a moment. He had never seen Ink turn those colors before. He wondered if this view would become familiar to him. "This means that if you accept, I'll make sure you're taken care of."

Ink looked at him with a type of confusion so sharp it was almost disgusted. "...Huh?"

"A truce between lovers would be quite a solid thing, don't you believe?" He said dryly, his fingers twitching with the dread of someone who hasn't been told yes. "Whatever you need, I'll acquire it for you. Whatever you want, you'll have. But you'll give yourself to me."

"But not the AUs," Ink said after a moment. He couldn't distinguish the emotion in his own voice as he put his hands down. "You wouldn't stop your show just to have me, won't you?"

"I'm afraid not," Nightmare said. His eye looked down on them. He couldn't help but smile bitterly. "Of course not. You'll make no slave out of me."

"...You're funny," Ink murmured. "I like you. You're— you're intriguing, dynamic. I'd like to know where your character arc is going. I like your color palette."

"...Is that a yes?"

Ink sighed. (It was a yes.)

[redcamellia13]

Mitsukou Analysis: Red House Arc

Okay. God, I was not excited for this arc…

*motivational (platonic) KouNene*

Honestly, when I first read this scene I was quite surprised.

Isn’t it sort of odd Kou isn’t super affected by Mitsuba or even Hanako’s disappearance?

Yashiro became a veritable shell of herself, and Akane fell into depression, so to have Kou as his usual smiling self was quite shocking to see.

Woah, woah, can… can we back up a bit Kou? That’s twice now you’ve shown signs of contemplation of killing yourself for your ghost boy friend. (In my opinion, it should be ghost boyfriend, but ya know.)

Wow, so he’s actually considering this. I assumed Kou knew he probably couldn’t die back in the picture perfect world, since it’s supposed to be picture perfect, but he’s genuinely thinking about it.

So. At this point in time, Kou doesn’t know “whether the old Mitsuba is really gone.”

Well, Kou, for better or for worse that’s about to change. Which brings us to the next point of interest:

Right here. Kou has realized, for the first time in (Hanako or Tsukasa’s, I can’t remember) words, “the Mitsuba Sousuke that lived and died in this world is not here anymore.”

I think some subconscious part of Kou’s brain really believed Sousuke was still out there somewhere, and because he only met him very briefly as a human, and still quite shortly as a ghost, he never really processed the fact Sousuke had family that cared about him.

This is divulging into more theory territory than analysis, but why did Sousuke have a picture of the Red House?

His connections with it are nonexistent, and even No. 3 doesn’t know it exists, and is only associated with it because of his relationship with Amane Yugi/Hanako.

This is mostly just context for what’s about to happen next. Aidairo has made it crystal clear the house appeals to your desires.

Ah yes, so of course Mitsuba shows up immediately afterwards, almost as if Aidairo are implying when you say “think of your greatest desires,” Kou’s brain immediately thinks of Mitsuba.

Another interesting thing about these panels, and also the main reason I added it is that this is the first time we’ve seen Kou’s desire to be needed, and be needed specifically by Mitsuba.

“I can’t go on without you Minamoto-Kun. You’re all I have.”

This is saying Kou wants Mitsuba to rely on him and only him, a fact that was already well-established, but confirmation is always nice.

Perhaps this is pulling from Kou’s desires of Hanako being “a run of the mill evil spirit” so he would be easy to exorcise.

However, I believe this is more pulling from Kou’s… suicidal tendencies, and wanting to be with Mitsuba on the other shore.

It might actually be a combo of both.

Actually, this got me thinking for a while. Do Kou and Mitsuba trust each other? Kou certainly doesn’t think so, but do we have examples of them showing mutual trust?

Welp, guys, thats another ding on the “are they a healthy relationship” perspective.

“You know you wanted me to say that.”

My sleep deprived brain cannot even begin to pick out why the hell Mitsuba would say that, but let’s try.

I have a vague feeling it’s because Kou wants Mitsuba to know that he wishes for Mitsuba to know he needs him to need Kou… but why?

Like I said, I am on not a lot of sleep and a lot of caffeine, so I can’t really say. I might come back later with new ideas, but for now this is what you get. (Sorry!)

Kou wants closure from Mitsuba’s death, which is understandable. However, Kou, you might wanna organize your priorities, because a solution for Yashiro’s lifespan isn’t even present, while Mitsuba comes up twice?

*ahem ahem*

🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈

Wow. Real smooth Aidairo. Stopping Kou right before we get an answer as to why Mitsuba (both!) is there, while not being an actual desire.

Yes, I updated my oneshot book- all entries below <3

[mintyys-blog]

OPEN TABS— bucky barnes

WARNINGS: mentions of smut, implied sex.

Bucky wasn’t the best with modern technology. He could handle the basics—texting, searching things up even using emojis thanks to Sam’s relentless teasing. But beyond that? A struggle.

So when his phone died and he needed to look something up, he turned to your laptop. You had left it open on the couch, and rather than bothering you while you were in the shower, he figured it would be easier just to use it.

Settling onto the couch, he placed the laptop on his lap and tapped the trackpad. The screen lit up, revealing the last thing you had been looking at.

He squinted. AO3?

Curiosity got the best of him. Clicking on the tab, he expected some kind of news article, maybe a research page. But when the page loaded, his expression shifted.

It wasn’t just a story. It was smut. Explicit, filthy, detailed smut.

His eyebrows shot up as he skimmed the words. The more he read, the more his face heated. He was a grown man, he had seen and done a lot of things in his lifetime—but this?

Goodness.

His fingers hovered over the trackpad, debating whether to close the tab and pretend he had never seen it.

But then he caught a particularly detailed paragraph and felt his ears burn.

And the worst part? It was good.

He knew you read, of course. You had your favorite books stacked by the nightstand, a Kindle always nearby. But this—this was something else. And the fact that it was saved, mid-read, meant you And the fact that it was saved, mid-read, meant you had every intention of coming back to it.

Bucky swallowed hard, shifting slightly in his seat as he continued skimming. He probably should’ve stopped. He really should’ve stopped. But his curiosity (and maybe a little bit of something else) had already gotten the better of him.

The language was filthy, the details graphic, and the main character—clearly the one you were envisioning yourself as—was being absolutely wrecked by a man who sounded suspiciously like…

Him.

Bucky’s lips parted slightly, his brows furrowing as realization hit. This wasn’t just a random story you’d stumbled upon. You had been reading this. Thinking about this.

A slow smirk curled at the corner of his mouth.

Well, well, well.

Bucky exhaled, suddenly feeling very warm. He shut the laptop and ran a hand through his hair, shaking his head with an amused chuckle. He had no idea you were reading stuff like that. But now that he did…

He was never letting you live this down.

The incident completely left his mind—until later that night.

The two of you were tangled up in bed, bodies pressed together, skin against skin. The room was dark, save for the soft glow of the city lights outside, and the air was thick with heat and want.

Bucky moved above you, lips trailing over your skin, fingers tracing paths down your spine. The little noises you made sent a rush of satisfaction through him, spurring him on as he pressed closer.

He didn’t even think before the words left his mouth.

“You like that, don’t you? So desperate for me you can’t even think straight.”

You shivered at the words, arching against him, and he smirked, reveling in the way your body responded.

It wasn’t until after—when you were both sprawled out on the bed, bodies still humming from pleasure—that your brain finally caught up.

Something about that sentence…

You blinked up at the ceiling, your chest still rising and falling as your post-orgasm haze started to fade. And then—Wait a damn second.

Your stomach dropped.

Your head snapped to the side, staring at Bucky in pure horror.

He was lying there with a satisfied grin, one arm tucked behind his head, looking completely unbothered.

“…Did you just quote something?”

Bucky went completely still.

A slow, creeping suspicion slithered down your spine. You narrowed your eyes. “James Buchanan Barnes.”

His lips twitched. “I—uh—”

“Oh my god.” You sat up, the blanket slipping from your chest as mortification set in. “You snooped! You read my—”

He groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Look, it wasn’t intentional! I went to use your laptop, and the tab was just open. What was I supposed to do?”

“Not read it?!”

“I got curious!” he defended, laughing as you groaned and buried your face in your hands.

“This is so embarrassing.”

Bucky smirked, reaching out to gently pry your hands away. “C’mon, doll, you gotta admit it’s kinda funny.”

“No, it’s mortifying.”

“Hey, if it makes you feel any better,” he teased, lips brushing against your cheek, “I’m honored you think about me like that.”

You let out a strangled noise, smacking his shoulder, but that only made him laugh harder.

“You’re the worst.”

“I’m the best,” he corrected, grinning as he pulled you back down into his arms. “And now I know exactly how to keep you happy.”

You groaned, still burning with embarrassment—but when he pressed a lingering kiss to your temple, you couldn’t help but smile.

[mo0nc4lf]

read fun home by alison bechdel and immediately listened to the broadway soundtrack right after and ended up crying my eyes out

[hollow-vok]

Ohh im obssesed

[its-me-hyunjin]

NO ONE TALK TO ME, CHAPTER 15 OF SLWY IS FINALLY HERE

star lost with you | hyunjin au | part 15

pairing: idol! hyunjin x artist! reader

synopsis: working in a quaint little art store, you’ve had the honor of meeting all kinds of people, but you’ve never met somebody like him.

there were many reasons hyunjin returned to his hometown; a getaway from the ephemeral and fast-paced life of the city, so he could fall in love with life again. he thought he was prepared for everything, to study art in the way that he’s always wanted to, but what he didn’t anticipate was meeting you. hwang hyunjin realises that sometimes, the best things in life happen unplanned.

genre:friends to lovers, so much angst, smut, fluff, set in the idolverse, mutual pining, unrequited love, forbidden romance, slowburn (!!!) soulmate au (kind of), star-crossed lovers

warnings:cursing, mature content, fancy drinking, mutual pining, sexual tension, so much angst, kissing, making out, dirty talk, fingering, grinding, dry humping, dom!hyunjin, jealousy, more angst

word count:35K (ik the wc makes it feel v long but it’s really not that much haha)

a/n: im so excited to be coming back with this huge of a chapter for you guys. so much goes down and im insanely excited to share this next phase of my story with you. its v long so pls get comfortable with a blanket and snacks. I would recommend rereading the last chapter, if you can! thank you for still being here.

i recommend that you can listen to my star lost playlist here!

important: all works are fiction, and do not in any way represent the real personalities or real people, they exist only as faceclaims, and are fictional characters.

masterlist

He had fucked up. Even in the dimly lit drive-in theatre, the guilt on his face was evident. Hyunjin had never looked this devastated.

“I need to talk to you” 

That’s what he had said. The gnawing feeling in your gut got worse. Those words together, in that order, was never a good sign. You knew as much, and you knew whatever he had to tell you was going to be something bad.

“Why did you leave in the middle of the film?” You asked, gaze darting between him and your friends.

Yuqi was staring wide-eyed, watching this unfold, soda cup clutched in her hands, and Felix…he looked beyond irritated.

The movie could still be heard all the way over here. You weren’t too far from the projection screen, and the speakers were right next to you. It was a horrible place to be having this conversation, but you couldn’t wait. 

What was he holding back?

You’d always felt the safest around Hyunjin, but every breath between you right now was uncertain. He was fidgeting, sliding the silver ring off and on his finger.

“I was on my way back to you when—” Hyunjin paused, and the veins in his neck were prominent as he strained to be heard over the movie, “—when Felix found me. He wanted to talk”

Keep reading

[bi-writes]

idk just thinking about seeing your lieutenant for the first time, this big giant dog of a man, and thinking to yourself, "hmmm yeah, i'm gonna make that thing mine." (18+)

like. i'm thinking about seeing him walk into the room for the first time. fresh off an op, still in all his gear. he's angry cause he's been awake off and on for 40 hours at this point, and he sinks down into a chair in the mess hall, and your eyes bug cause the chair fucking bends with his weight.

and you're just like "omg omg omg holy shit" cause this fucking brute is just huge and beefy, and you had no idea this was your type until you watched his hand curl around a cup and make it look miniature. and you're wondering like "fuck i bet those holsters are custom made" cause you don't think you've ever seen them stretch that far around someone's thigh.

ughghghghgh, and he's dumb as shit, too, or maybe he's just fucking blind. you give him every hint in the book, every indication of how you feel other than pasting a giant neon sign on your forehead that says "fuck me."

you wear the tightest cargo pants you can get. you let the buttons on your shirts go low whenever he's near. you make excuses to see him late, delivering him paperwork in the middle of the night, meeting him out for a smoke (and he's never seen you smoke anything), shuffling your way in front of him in line so you can bump into him and graze your ass against his front. he even catches you this way--even curls his hand around your waist and steadies you before letting you go impatiently.

fuck, bending over in front of him, the obnoxious giggling, the excuses to dangle your tits in his face. you want this man underneath you, on top of you, tangled around you and suffocating you with those enormous arms, and he barely side-glances at you whenever you're in his vicinity, and it's infuriating.

what do you have to do to reel this thing in? how many bones do you have to give him?

how many times do i have to flash my bra at you for you to fuck me over your desk?!

you can't eat another cherry in front of him. you can't drop more sauce onto your cleavage. you cannot come out of the showers in just a towel in front of him anymore because you're going to lose your fucking mind--

you even made out with his beloved little sergeant, his favorite little know-it-all that can't stop blowing shit up. that blue-eyed, insufferable, yapper of a scot that kisses all wet, with teeth, who pants like a puppy when he asks if he can 'ave a taste of y'r bonnie cunt, please, please, please--

and you say yes, because maybe he'll finally fucking shut up if you drown him between your thighs and never let him come up for air.

face down, ass up, cargos around your ankles, hips pushing past against that puppy's stubble as he devours you on his knees. his big hands spread your ass for him, and his thumbs flick over your folds as he opens you up, a cackle leaving him before he opens his mouth wide and kisses your pussy all sloppy and uncoordinated.

when the door swings open and hits the wall with a bang, the puppy tries to leave. he tries to move, but you reach back and grip his mohawk, scowling as you shove his face back where it belongs as your lieutenant stands at the door and heaves with anger.

"uh uh," you snap, and your sergeant on his knees whines, his blue eyes a little foggy and wet as he blinks up at you. but he complies, his tongue slurping, and you flutter your lashes at your lieutenant as you keep johnny muzzled in your cunt. "sorry, lieutenant. is this your office? must've read the sign wrong."

you reel from the contact. a big hand grips you by the hair, slamming you down against his desk, and you choke as you try and gasp for air. like a good boy, johnny settles where he is, shoving his tongue down your hole and moaning low when he realizes you're dripping down his chin now that his lieutenant has you.

"y'think this is funny, eh?" ghost mutters in your ear. "y'think i don't know wot y'r doin'? think i 'aven't caught on, think i 'aven't noticed wot a fuckin' insatiable bloody pain in my arse you've been ever since y'got 'ere?!"

you whimper, relaxing against the desk, and ghost tugs at your hair again, shaking his head.

"oi! y'don't get to be stupid just because y'r gettin' y'r cunny played with," ghost snaps. "y'r a right headache."

you laugh, getting up to your elbows, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as ghost scruffs johnny by the base of his mohawk and cups your pussy with one big hand. you gasp, leaning your head back, because finally, yes, it's all i want, please, please, please--

"'f you wanted to be my pet so bad," ghost murmurs, fitting himself behind you, leaning over your shoulder as he spits into your ear, "all ya had to do was fuckin' ask, swee'eart."

when your eyes open, ghost hums, clicking his tongue under the mask.

"use y'r words," he growls. "be a good girl, and say wot it is y'want."

"want you," you whine, and he sighs deeply, closing his eyes, and you drown out the sounds of johnny sputtering at your feet as ghost bends you at the hip a little more, arching your back.

"mmm...tha'sit. was tha' so hard?"

[irisinluv]

Isekaied as the Yandere Villain!? Pt 2

Part one

It was almost 2 minutes before I realized I was still dragging the crown prince behind me. I quickly dropped his hand and looked at him, not able to hide the embarrassment on my face. Listen- I’m committed to the bit. I WILL be the crazy jealous fiancé. But… I’m still human ok. I just dragged a full grown man down several halls and a flight of stairs while I spaced out thinking about how I’m gonna buy my cat premium wet food once I get back home to her.

It’s fine, I’m not flustered at spacing out about my cat, my characters just flustered because she’s been holding the hand of the man she’s obsessed with, that’s all!

“Well…. Did you still want to dine and take that walk?”

I expected him to scold me for my mistreatment of Cressida, grow irritated from me dragging him along like this. Instead, he chuckles and threads his arm in mine, and begins escorting me down the hall.

“Absolutely, have you dined outside by the roses yet? There’s this lovely pavilion that I am eager to hear your thoughts on.”

And that’s how I found myself under an impressive array of roses, all trained up and around a cozy dining area, creating a canopy of green and pink over an intimate tea table. The food was equally impressive, I had to keep reminding myself that the other me is used to this lavish lifestyle, to not gawk at the fancy tiny sandwiches and deserts.

“Well? Is everything to your liking? ”

I’m going off script here, how am I supposed to know how the villainess would react to a romantic scene like this?? If my “evil crazy” side isn’t supposed to be directed at him, and she’s usually kinda distant and unsure around him…. That means I should probably respond pretty curtly, polite, yet not really engaging. But…. I’ve already messed that up…. I guess I can be more genuine when it’s the two of us like this. He can think that this version of me is the facade, that I’m pretending to be pleasant, and then will start to see what a jerk “I” truly am when Cressida’s around. Besides…. I almost feel bad for the villainess. She really just seems like she was shy. Who knows- maybe, if given the opportunity, she really would have opened up more. It’s clear she loved the prince, and just didn’t know how to show it. So, with that thought, I made up my mind.

“It’s breathtaking! Roses are my favorite flower, and I’ve never seen so many kinds in bloom at once…. Plus the food and company leave little to be desired.”

There you go- slip in some subtle flirting! I’m not quite sure what time period this is supposed to be, but I get the impression flirting as bit more high class here, and I think I can have some fun with that.

“I’m glad, to be honest I was a bit flustered asking you to dine with me… you caught me quite off guard today, but in a good way.” He reaches his hand across the table and places it on my own, “I’d like to do this more often, you and I. I feel like the confines of our current arrangement have left us practically strangers, despite being engaged for several months already. I’m enjoying just being companionable with you, even if it’s just existing comfortably in the same room.”

Ohhhh, I know I’m the villain in this story but I can’t help but root for him- what a sweetheart! It’s so obvious he’s been lonely, I can’t wait for him and Cressida to fall in love and have a couple of kids that they’ll spoil rotten. And in the meantime…. Maybe I do have a bit of evil in me, because I’m going to selfishly enjoy this handsome man treating me to lunches under roses and reading in cozy libraries while I can.

“I know exactly how you feel your highness. Now, you mentioned a walk?”

We spent the afternoon laughing and chatting, and it felt nice to chat without worrying too much about my role. He asked me about that book I picked out earlier, and listened attentively as I caught him up with where I’m at in the plot. In turn, I asked about what papers he’s been signing, documents he’s been drafting, etc.

The only thing I had to do was send glares to any young ladies we passed, settling my hand on his arm possessively, and I saw their eyes widen and faces disappear behind fans as they whisper to one another. I can picture this illustrated in a manhwa- the nasty princess sinking her claws into the gullible prince… hopefully all these ladies will start gossiping and we can really cement this evil persona of mine now that Cressida’s here.

When we returned to our separate apartments, I explored my rooms a bit until servants came to get me ready for dinner, and I slipped back into the frigid bitch persona. The servant girls dressed me in a slightly stuffy gown, but I had to admit, I looked gorgeous. I sat stiff and straight as they did my hair, forcing myself to be the very picture of cold indifference. I then dismissively thanked them for their help, then sat there awkwardly as they stared at me like I was crazy.

Ohhhh shit…. The original story hadn’t prepared me for this. My character was a villain, yes, but a side character for the most part! How was she supposed to act towards her servants? I went over what I knew- the novel showed the villainess alone quite often, usually obsessing over Eric and plotting/stalking. It showed her with Eric, and how distant and awkward their relationship was when together. And then of course the numerous scenes with Cressida where the Villainess did all sorts of heinous things to the sweet girl. But… it never depicted her with servants, or even any friends or other nobles. Just… Eric and Cressida. Was other me not actually a bitch all the time? Am I being unnecessarily rude right now? Oh god I’m such an idiot.

The story is told through Cressida’s point of view- of course there’s more depth to my own character than I initially thought! The Villianess must be a misunderstood introvert! Unsure of how to act around her crush, she’s fiercely insecure and jealous of this new girl who doesn’t struggle the same way she does. When she notices the prince slipping from her grasp, she acts out against Cressida because she can’t bear to lose Eric!

As someone’s who’s worked minimum wage jobs and struggled with social anxiety most of my life, I try to be nice to the people just working to survive, but here I am acting like these poor women are the dirt beneath my shoe…. Ok. Um. Well they’re still standing there in shock, I can fix this….

“You really did a lovely job… my hair has never looked so gorgeous, you’re truly talented! And I think the prince will be very pleased with this choice of ribbon!”

There- I was nicer, and I brought it back to Eric, so I’m still the lovesick fiancé whose entire world is waiting for her in the dining room. I frowned as the servants scuttled out of the room with hurried excuses, all of them looking like they were about to faint. Damn it… I can’t believe I misread the relationship between us. I probably just ruined their night by being uncharacteristically rude. I’ve gotta learn their names next time…. Maybe ask them to help me eat some fancy pastries as an apology…?

I didn’t know it, but while I was lamenting how wrong I was about the Villainess’ character, the servants were all gossiping to the others about what had just transpired.

“You’re telling me she said THANK YOU!?”

“Yes!!! And then you should have seen how nervous she got! She just rambled, blurting out such a sweet compliment, and she even tied it back to the prince!”

“I had no idea how precious she was… I can’t believe I never realized she’s just shy! In a new place, all alone aside from her new fiancé…. Who I gather she’s got a bit of a crush on! Poor dear.”

“Ohh our sweet girl, I’m sure it must be hard bonding with the prince, when all you do is sit yards apart and hardly speak …”

“Well I may have some news about that… and it’s no wonder she was a bit flustered today, because I saw the two of them in the gardens today! They were both nothing but smiles- absolutely smitten with one another!”

“Such a lovely girl, and we never knew it all this time!”

Apparently, I had it backwards. The real villainess truly was a 2D, basic character. She was insecure and possessive over the prince, bullying Cressida half to remind her who Eric belonged to, half for the fun of it. But she didn’t let on to anyone about the true depth of her love for him. She didn’t gossip to her handmaid, didn’t ask the servants which dress he would like better. Simply acted as if they did not exist, hardly saying a word to them.

While I thought my blunt “thank you” was colder than they were used to, and then tried to smooth things over…. It was more words than they’d heard from me in the whole time I’d lived in the palace. They lapped it up and declared me their own shy little dove after that.

When I arrived to dinner, I realized why daily dinners weren’t exactly a bonding activity for the villainess and Eric. The table was massive, and only held two chairs, one at either end. It felt so…. Cold?

Eric had beat me there, and quickly stood up from his seat, waiting until I sat and a servant pushed in my chair to retake his own seat. He smiled at me and said,

“Good evening, princess.”

He had to project his voice slightly. It wasn’t like he was shouting or being loud, it was just the manner of speaking you use when talking to an elderly relative, clearer, and enunciating better so they could hear you.

I replied back, projecting my voice similarly, and found the conversation was, in fact, more awkward than it had been earlier. We ate our food mostly in silence, occasionally one of us would say something and the other would stop moving their utensils on their plate, listening closer as they ask,

“What’s that?”

By the time dinner was over and we each went to bed, I felt drained. I could have just been louder I suppose- but it’s so hard to keep up a conversation like that. I know we get along- we had chatted all afternoon after all. But some part of me realized it’s probably good to keep a bit of distance between us, even if I’ve rewritten things to be a bit chummier between the two of us. Cressida needs to swoop in and steal him from me… and my job is still to leave that room for her to do so.

It’s hard trying to be someone else, yet also making sure you lead the plot in the right direction- it’s exhausting! I feel like both director and actress!

It’s with this in mind that I launch myself into the softest bed I’d ever felt, and passed out. My first day as princess consort, the Yandere fiancé, complete.

While I was getting acquainted with my feather bed, Eric was speaking with the head waitstaff.

“Yes, tomorrow, would you mind adjusting the seating situation? I’d like for the princess consort and I to be closer together from now on. Yes, and ask my assistant to arrange my schedules like so, I’ve detailed it here. Thank you.”

At the same time, Cressida was recounting her run in with the prince and I to her handmaiden as she finishing unpacking and settling into her family’s guest apartments. Which, unbeknownst to me… was right across the hall.

Series discontinued- sorry my loves. Ik y’all wanted more but the good news is that I’ve seen several really talented authors picking up this idea and executing it wayyyy better than my sporadic mood writing ever could.

[ramonathinks]

matters of the heart — Nanami K.

summary: finding out your ex-boyfriend wrote a novel detailing your relationship isn’t how you expected this week to go and to make matters worse everyone on the internet now thinks your “character” is a total bitch. you decide to pay your ex a visit, but can you do that without succumbing to your natural urges? well, no!

tags: 18+(MDNI/blank blogs) slight porn with plot, oral (f! receiving), brief nipple sucking, daddy kink, creampie, i guess nanami is a bit toxic in this lol, nanami might also be a bit ooc in here

to the moaners: has this been sitting in the draft for about 3-4 months? yes! but happy birthday month, kento 😚. artwork by @/_3aem (twt); @ryomens-vixen (this was the fic I mentioned a while back) word count: 5.6k (yuck), I don't really like this

I’m going to kill him, that was the only thing on your mind once you closed out of the novel. Normally, your weekends were spent relaxing with a fruity bubble-gum colored cocktail but today was different. Shoko called your phone at exactly 9:26 am claiming it was time she divulged some news to you. At exactly 9: 28am, she sent you an online copy of a book titled, “Matters of the Heart” and told you it was nothing but a two or three hour read and then to call once you finished. 

The book had a slow start and it seemed pretty average, just any old love story. Lately, anything was getting published and it seemed that was the case here — wait, you paused your reading and sat up straight. No. Just no. Something just clicked for you which led you to completely start over from page one. 

The moment you finished, at exactly 1:01 pm, you grabbed a salmon colored low cut shirt and light washed jeans, slipped on your white shoes and hurried to get into your car. You didn’t need to call her phone because you were going to talk to her face to face; this situation warranted a real conversation. It was nothing but a 17 minute drive to Shoko’s house, so when you arrived at exactly 1:18 pm, her door was already open. “They’re bashing me, Shoko. Fucking bashing! How could he do this to me?” Were the first words that flew out of your mouth, holding your phone close to her face so that she could see the reviews. 

“Well, it’s not like anyone would know it’s you.” She yawned, handing you a cup of water – probably because of how crazy you looked – before she ushered you to a seat on the couch. A golden brown blanket was lazily thrown on the seat, which she hurried to move. You sat down and faced her with a look of what Shoko could only describe as pure sadness. She had seen you like this many times before, all because of one person. 

“You did.” You sniffled with an eye roll, you couldn’t help but feel uncertain. Reading this book only brought back more uncomfortable feelings towards the breakup and him. You thought that you were over him and the memories that the book produced made you question everything. One question remained which is: Why?

She giggled drily. “Hey, I read all his works. Pseudonym or not. He can’t hide from me. Plus, I know you both and everything that went on. I was there too, remember?” She mumbled the last part. “Maybe this was his way of coping?”

“It’s been years… and I heard he’s announced a sequel. Shoko, a SEQUEL! It’ll be released later this year.” You spoke in a shaking watery voice while she rubbed your back in an attempt of comfort. Your mind could only think of what the reactions would be to your character in the sequel… insecurities that you never knew were there flooded your mind.

“There was enough material for a sequel? I thought he covered everything…” Shoko rubbed her chin and looked deep in thought. You just stared at her, she couldn’t be serious. “Sorry, ignore me.” She shook her head ignoring your stare.

“Do I even confront him over this? A-and how would that make me look, like I still check on him right? I’ll look crazy and bitter… which apparently I am. Oh and I’m bitchy and a ‘total cunt’ as they’re putting online.” He didn’t know just how much you changed, he missed your growth. Rubbing your eyes, you ask:“Why did you tell me about this? What made you take so long… I just don’t understand.”

“Well, at first… I didn’t think you’d care.” Moving a strand of her nut-brown hair out of her face, she continued. “Then about a month ago, I decided it was right to tell you, just in case someone else pieced it together.”

“Gojo read it then, huh?” You mentally cringed at the thought. It was the only person you could think of who’d be so crude about it. He knew how damaging the breakup was for you but not as bad as Shoko knows. Now, you’re just grateful that she told you before he did.

“Yep, so I figured that I had to tell you before he did.” She clicked her tongue. “But let’s just calm down before you make any rash decisions on how to handle this.” 

“He wrote a fucking duality series about me, our relationship, our sex life and you want me to calm down? Are you listening to yourself? This is a serious matter. I am being called a bitch, a slut and more on Goodreads and multiple websites, reviews, etc. and he didn’t even have the audacity to give me a heads up. You had to call me.” You let out an unladylike snort.“Why couldn’t he stick to his mystery novels? Wasn’t he doing good at those?”

“Writer's block.” Shoko said in a singsong-like voice. “He hadn’t written a mystery book since you two broke up and then… he alerted his supporters he wanted to switch things up and then… that was that. Ladies loved it, a big hit. By the way, if you two were really fucking like that I need to se—”

“Shoko, now is not the time!” Your face felt hot all over, your mind racing. “I just can’t believe this.” You wrapped your arms around your body and squeezed, giving yourself one big squeeze. It was hard not to cry but you could feel it all in your throat. 

“I’m sorry. If it makes you feel any better, I don’t think his intentions were to make you feel bad.” She hugged you to her chest, pressing a small kiss to the crown of your head. “I think he still loves you. I mean, isn’t this book proof? After all these years, he wrote about you.” 

“I’m sure he moved on by now.” You whispered, your eyes growing tired already and the day had barely started. “I just need to lay down. I need to rest.” Your mind seemed to finally grow calm and your breathing steady, a small hiccup now in your throat but with a gulp of water, you were better.

“Just stay here. I don’t trust you to be alone right now.” Shoko’s voice drowned out as sleep overtook you, you could only feel her warmth as she held you and honestly it was all you needed at this moment, Shoko always made you feel safe and you couldn’t thank her more than enough for that right now as you slept.

You were a light sleeper, it was always something that Nanami pointed out about you. He always said how he felt like he couldn’t leave the room while you slept even if it was to use the bathroom afraid to wake you. He knew how important sleep was to you and he’d risk having a bladder infection if you got all 8 hours that you required. Nanami was sweet and caring like that. 

You didn’t think you’d break up with him ever. He was the one for you and he always made that clear. He pampered you and even after the breakup – though you didn’t need it – he left you with a check for five thousand dollars, saying it was for his half of the lease for the next few months. 

The breakup was brutal for you. You almost quit working entirely. Shoko was the only person you’d confined into and the only friend you left to check in on you especially when you didn’t want to leave the house. She brought you groceries and helped you shower until you finally were able to get up again.

Though it was hard to believe, it was Nanami who broke up with you. You thought it was a joke, a cliche little joke. 

“Baby, I’m not joking.” His voice was quiet and husky, he spoke as if he was going to cry. “I just need some time to myself. I need to figure out if this is what I want. You don’t have to wait for me, you just keep on living your life and being happy. But… I think it’s time we let this go.” 

You didn’t cry in front of him. You didn’t cry when he packed his things up. You certainly didn’t cry when he shut the door, leaving his key on the table because you knew he was joking. He had to be. But when you called him and his number was disconnected and you were blocked on any form of social media… that was when you broke down and cried. 

It happened out of nowhere. You overanalyzed every aspect of your relationship for where you went wrong. You wrote down every conversation you could remember and dissected it word by word. You watched every video and picture you had of the two of you looking for a bit of regret or anything on his face. You read every text message, looking for malice. He said he needed time to figure out if he wanted this but he always made it clear that he did and even that he was looking forward to having kids together, you two had even gone ring shopping months ago. 

You didn’t sleep and when you did, it was only for 4 hours and sometimes barely that. Your heart had an ache in it and the tears wouldn’t stop. You could only think why wasn’t I enough?

When you opened your eyes Shoko was still holding you and a small smile grew on your lips. “Thank you Shoko.” You knew if you could count on anyone, it was always going to be her. She was the one who pieced you back together and made sure that life didn’t destroy you and you couldn’t help but to be grateful. 

“Of course. ‘M going to let you spend the night here, okay? Let’s get some takeout and watch your favorite movies, how’s that sound?” She knew the way to your aching heart like the back of her hand. 

“It sounds amazing!” You stretched your arms out wide, leaning off of her and sitting up. “Should we start with Uptown Girls or Legally Blonde?” 

It took two days before you confronted him. Shoko was adamant about not giving you his address and you were tempted to get it from her phone. But luckily, you wore her down, she was probably tired of you bringing him or his book in every conversation. So now you stood there, nerves washing over you in waves.

The mahogany colored door stared at you – mocked you – and you returned the glare before you knocked on it, hard. This was just a door and you were angry at the person behind said door, not the door itself. 

It was almost like he was waiting on you because the door unlocked and opened. He even stepped aside to let you in, quiet. His straw-colored hair was parted differently and he even looked taller or broader – you couldn’t completely tell – but he looked different… seemed different. The atmosphere around him made your stomach clench and it made you mad; why did it feel like only you suffered from the breakup? Here he was – strong and tall – and you were nothing or rather the same.

“You wrote a romance erotica novel about our relationship?” It was what you practiced saying before you got out of your car – making sure your voice didn’t tremble – this time, it didn’t. 

“Well, hello to you too. Even after three and a half years, you still like to get straight to the point.” He grinned, putting a hand on your back to guide you to a seat on his couch. “I must ask, what makes you think it’s about you?” He does a slight laugh and raises his brow.

“We have the same initials, almost the same name. Are you kidding me?” You retort, folding your arms across your chest. You tried to ignore the fuzzy feeling in your chest that occurred when you heard his voice after so long, hearing him and seeing that damned smile… your nose scrunched up.

“Sorry, I just didn’t know you kept up with me… with my books…” He muttered, glancing your way, a demure look in his amber eyes. “Should I be flattered?” Almost in an instant, he turned on a slight cockiness to himself, though his body language showed his nervousness – his thigh bouncing a bit and his fingers tapping on the couch handle. A light sense of relief filled your system knowing that you weren’t the only one being affected by this.

“I don’t.” You inhaled deeply. “Shoko told me about it and then, I checked it out.” Fiddling with your fingers and even picking at your nails, that was your tell all sign of nervousness and right now you were engaging in it more than ever before. 

“I wanted to tell you or rather, to ask you. I know you got the voicemails I sent last year…and then you kept dodging my calls.” He tells you, you could feel his eyes on you – or more so your fingers… the nasty habit that he had finally got you to stop all those years ago rushing right back in an instant.

“Writing a book to trash me and our relationship… to make you look like some sort of… ugh, like you’re so amazing and I’m just shit. Yeah, that certainly got my attention.” If you were coming off bitchy or rude right there, you couldn’t care less especially when there were worse things that you could’ve said or even could’ve done at this moment. You really wanted to slap him. 

“Is that all you got out of it?” He asks with his head low, almost as if he was admitting defeat or as if he couldn’t believe you came up with something so trivial. 

“Was there anything else to get?” You counter, shifting your body towards him. Maybe it was best that you sat down and actually listened to the author and his interpretations of his work.

“How about that I love you regardless of any flaws… how about I find your stubbornness and attitude sexy and how I knew this breakup would be good for you. I was holding you back. I mean, I heard you got promoted 3 times since we broke up… I just felt like I was changing you, hindering your growth. I needed to reflect on myself and this book helped that.” He tapped his fingers against his thigh, yet another sign of his anxiousness. “Believe it or not, I still care about you. No matter what happened between us.”

“What happened? You mean when you decided to just leave? You could've told me everything you just told me and I would’ve understood better. We could’ve talked and came to a compromise. You don’t understand what you put me through after it.” You were close to tears but you straighten your posture and sniffled, it was best not to think about what happened before. “I just needed a bit of closure too, I guess that’s why I came. I just was caught off guard. You could’ve knocked on my door or something, forced me to answer… forced me to talk.”

He met your eye for the first time since you came over. “You wouldn’t have listened,” He huffs. “Didn’t I mention how stubborn you are? Plus, I meant what I said. I needed time to myself and I think we both did.”

“I guess…But Nanami, this book was too much. A letter would’ve been fine if you needed closure, don’t you think?” You see his lips quirk up a bit before he licks them, trying not to laugh it seems.

“My publisher got a hold of some of the documents where I was just going over things, writing here and there. She loved the idea… plus I’m in a contract for six books so I had to put something out soon, it had already been a year.” He told you, sitting his chin on top of his knuckles. “I honestly didn't mean to hurt you. I was writing for fun… reminiscing about us and then later down the line, I realized I was writing because I wanted you to read it, I just didn’t exactly know how to get you to since you were very adamant on avoiding me, which is understandable. But regardless, I didn’t think it’d get on the bestseller list or for the reviews to get so harsh.” He admits, reaching for your hand before his hand froze in midair and he stopped himself, choosing instead to put it behind his head.

“Is there anyway you can stop the sequel from being published then… since you got my attention after all this time?” You asked, putting your most dazzling smile on, hoping to sway him. 

“I can talk to my publisher. Everything’s in print and materials are already done… but I’ll try to see if I can stop production.” His adam’s apple bobbles when he does a harsh swallow. “Are we… okay? Do you forgive me?”

The question made you pause. He always made it hard for you to not forgive him; it took one look or a smile and a small explanation and it made it easy to fall in love with him all over again, no matter what he did… it seems. But it made you ask yourself: Were you too easy? Did you really forgive him? It was thoughts like that swirling around the corners of your mind. You wanted to forgive him, he was just writing and telling a story… but it was your story, not just his. Using this for your attention when he could’ve written about anything else, he didn’t have to. Were you just ready to forgive him because you still loved him? 

You hadn’t realized how deep in thought you were until you felt the couch dip and even then, your mind was still spirling.“You don’t have to…” His voice brings you out of your thoughts, his body so close to yours that it was getting hard to breathe. He still smelled the same; citrus and woodsy and it was easy to get yourself sucked back in. 

“So you can write another book about my stubbornness?” You give a quiet giggle, scooting a bit away from him, seeing him frown from the corner of your eyes. You didn’t want to fall back but he made it all so simple. It was easy and you were already falling back on him and you didn’t need that… Did you?

“Baby…” Your body buzzed and hummed, turning to him with wide eyes. “I’ll do anything I can to make this right. Anything for you to forgive me… If they can’t stop publication, what can I do to make us right?” He was doing more than a gaze, he was full on staring and from how close he was it was hard to avoid. 

“Nanami I–” You stopped yourself. You couldn’t really think of anything he could do but you could think of several unhealthy things you could do to ruin your progress on going over him. He had betrayed you and made you a laughing stock so why are you stuck thinking about forgiveness when you should be leaving.

“I never stopped loving you.” His fingers traced up and down your pants but his eyes stayed on yours. “I never thought about anyone but you… I never slept with anyone… it’s always been you. But, I understand what I put you through and I’ll apologize every second until you forgive me…” The blond man who you never saw shed a tear looked more than close to it. “But just please… forgive me.”

“I’m sorry, honest.” He tries again after being met with absolute silence. “Just… let me show you, okay?” His breath tickles your face for a second and when you look into his cocoa brown eyes, you feel everything you once felt again.

Memories of good times dulls out the odd feelings in the pit of your stomach – the confusion and pain – instead are replaced with joy. The trip to Malaysia where he rubbed sunscreen on your entire body and laid back to read a book and you watched as his eyes kept drifting to you while you played in the cerulean water; how you kept begging him to come in until he complied and how eventually in the early hours of the morning when you wanted another dip, he fucked you twice — once in the golden lush sand and another in the cool ocean water. 

His face is in your thighs and you couldn’t help but feel better, feeling his breath fanning so close to your pants covered pussy, your body felt scorching hot. He’s grumbling, “Will you let me make it up to you? Will you let me show you how sorry I am?” 

You must’ve nodded because he was already unbuttoning your pants and helping you lay back, pulling your shirt up just a bit to see your perky tits – he must’ve remembered how you never wore bras unless you felt it was necessary, which was mainly work or any important events. 

He blew a bit on your hardening nipples before he took one into his mouth – playing biting them with a smug look on his face before he began licking around your areolas and kissing around the swells of your breast. He doesn’t say anything but he looks deep in thought as he kisses down your body, his fingers scraping down your sides as he works your pants and your panties all the way down. Bringing his head up for a minute, he looks in your face. “I love you.” He says it simply, heavy emotions swirling in his brown eyes.

Removing your pants and underwear completely from your body, he spreads your thighs and looks over your body – a trimmed low pretty bush sits between your thighs and it makes him smile, he always loved seeing the curled hair on your delicate lower lips. He spreads your pussy, watching the skin stretch with a deep smile on his face. You could feel yourself … the wetness leaking down under your body and it made you cringe, but the way he was staring at you made the insecurities vanish. “All this for me?” He takes a tentative lick before he slurps, clutching your hips. “I know you like to run… but I need you to stay put, got it?” It was hard for you to listen to him, your head already fuzzy and the thoughts swirling around were only about him, nothing more. 

Then your body bucks up, “Wait–!” A broken moan escapes your mouth when he presses a soft wet kiss to your clit. Nanami had always been gentle and very careful whenever he ate you out; making sure his tongue was wet enough and that he wasn’t too rough. His tongue was wide enough to make your back arch, your body leaving the couch when it finally hit your clit and he gave you no time to recover before he peeled back the hood, sitting the tip of his tongue there and rapidly flicked at the bud. 

Hearing the lewd squelching noises coming from the mixture of your cunt and his mouth made you close your eyes, squeezing them shut tightly. He spits before he licks it up and down your aching slit, nudging his tongue inside only slightly, much to your dismay. You’re gasping every second when more of his tongue slips in and out of your pussy; sliding a bit more each time and it makes your thighs shake. When he finally slips his entire tongue inside of you, curling it just enough that you can feel it everywhere, your legs attempt to close up around his head. “Please– ‘m so… soo–oh…” His fingers join in on the fun and in small sloppy circles he rubs your clit, pressing down on the pearl while his tongue continues flicking inside of you. The split second that you open your eyes, his are already on yours and it was that moment, that made your body tense up and for you to cum. 

It happens fast, clear sticky wetness leaks out of you and Nanami still tries to get more of it on his tongue, catching anything that drips and sucking on your folds. “Always so fucking good…” He mutters, spreading you again and smearing more of your slick on his face by shaking his head between your thighs, so that he’s completely covered in you. 

When he moves his head, embarrassment comes over you, looking at his wet face… even his forehead was wet and you couldn’t bring yourself to meet his eyes. “Nothing to be embarrassed about, baby but… I’ll be right back, stay wet for me.”

Your heart hammers against your chest, lying there on this now wet couch. You didn’t come over here for this and yet here you are… about to get fucked and really, it was no turning back now. You’d been on dates with men after Nanami but they never lasted past the second date and you certainly hadn’t had sex in a while, but he made you come apart like it was nothing.  

But then again, Nanami knew your body… so of course this was a walk in the park for him. It honestly annoyed you right now, you couldn’t even make yourself cum half the time especially these last few years and now, barely an hour here and he has you right where he wanted you… bare and practically back in love with him.

Nanami came back with a fresh face and unbuttoned pants that he was currently pulling down. You clenched around nothing, your mind thinking only of the perfect dick that was going to be coming out of those pants. You licked your lips, this would be the first dick you saw in years and it was his. 

His drooling cock slapped his stomach and you swallowed, your mouth felt unreasonably dry. The length of his cock always impressed you, standing tall at seven and a half inches, he shakes with laughter which snaps you out of your daze. “Now let me look at you.” His whispers and even though he already saw you, both years ago and right now, you can’t help but feel hot all over again. He’s staring – drawing his eyes down every inch of your body –  focusing on your breast before getting to the stare of the show yet again. He smirks, laying you back down, pressing his body against yours to kiss you. 

Your breath was caught in your throat, his tongue still tasted of you and his hands cups your jaw. He’s gentle, his tongue moving around your mouth messily before he stops, saliva breaking apart when he does so. His fingers make a ghostly featherlight touch on your clit that makes you jump, the head of his cock at your entrance. He holds out his hand, close to your mouth. “Spit.” Gathering up some, you spit in the palm of his hand and stroke it along his length, huffing at the sensation. 

He pushes in, taking his time to work himself inside of you, a strained expression on his face. Hips pulled back, he focuses more on just the tip of himself fucking you, watching your pussy stretch with just the tiniest bit of resistance. Inching himself inside, you watch his torso flex and he groans, obscene noises plop and plap around the apartment, his heavy cock pushing in and out of you, your toes curling. 

“Pussy still mines, right? Didn’t give it away, did you?” You’re struggling to talk - to fucking breathe - your eyes rolling back and your jaw slacked but you babble out a soft ‘no’ which makes him finally thrust in you harder, completely bottoming out. You feel him in your belly, feeling full and embarrassingly wide with him stretching you out, his balls sitting on the crest of your ass before he moves. 

He moves you a bit, your bodies flush to each other and he moves his hips in harsh circles, his pelvis so close to your clit. His hands on your calves, he pushes your legs so that they rest on his shoulders, your knees touching your ears makes you tighten up and he groans above you.

“Nanami I-” You call out, eyes closed with pleasure shaking through your core, wetness slapping between the both of you. 

“Nanami? No, call me what you used to call me.” His hips slowed down, a whine escaping your lips. His cock dragging inside of your walls, pulling out slowly, awaiting your response. 

“Please…don’t slow down, Ken—” before the word even left your lips, his hand slapped your cunt, leaving your legs shaking a bit and your eyes snapping open. Drops of tears run down your cheeks and you sniffle, reaching for him… you couldn’t help but feel so small in his presence.

“Say it.” Then, you knew what he meant. A name that now feels foreign in your brain and even when it leaves your mouth, it comes out in a strange rattled whimper.

“Oh, oh… daddy, ‘m sorry. Please, keep fucking me. It’s so goooood!” He’s grinning before the words leave your mouth.

“Still my good girl huh? Always so fucking good for daddy.” He licks up your neck and it makes you tremble, your tongue lolling out a bit and he moves to suckle on it. “Did you skip over all those sex scenes or did you rub this pussy out to them?” He asks, his fingers digging in the back of your thighs. 

You choked out, sobbing, “I did, daddy… But I-I don’t want to remember everything.” 

“You don’t remember all the words I used to describe this cunt? This pretty pussy? That changed his life… my life? That made him always crawl back? That made him so fucking hard? The pretty words I used to describe you? To describe how pretty she always looked when he fucked her? How his heart felt like it was going to explode when she looked at him too long because he loved her so damn much?” He’s groaning in your ear, thrusting into you, his depth reaching your g-spot, your pussy spasming and begging for his cum at every word he uttered. 

Pumping himself inside, you could see the white creaminess that was on his cock, most likely because of you, he was constantly fucking the cream inside of you, your nails digged into his arms and he moaned at the feeling. Your stomach tightens and you move to push him away, “I’m going to c–cum!” You felt him throbbing inside of you, signaling that he was close too. “Please, cum inside of me… I can’t take it.” You couldn’t stand it any longer, it’s been years and you needed him to fill you up. He stopped for a moment, changing positions so that you’ll be sitting on his lap, grabbing your hips and forcibly bouncing you on his dick, dangerously slow. 

Wetness gushes on him as his tip hits you from a new angle, seeing the outline of him in your tummy, he’s stretching you again with each nasty thrust. Each drag of his cock making you go crazy and the aching between your legs continue, your body shaking and both of you moaning loudly and over each other. 

Finally, your orgasm rattled and shook your entire body, your pussy sucking him in, milking him for all he’s worth and it makes his body shake and he releases inside of you, trying to stay quiet as his body jerks up, unable to stop himself from fucking you through both of your orgasms.

It’s quiet for a while, just heavy breathing with you laying on his chest. “I love you too…” Your voice is scratchy and your face tear stained. He doesn’t say anything, his cock still pulsing inside of you.

“I know. I love you too, never stopped.” 

“Did you at least read the acknowledgements or did you just dive right in?”

“I never read the acknowledgements for books, thought you would’ve remembered that.” You watch him get up, walking around the living room, looking for something. You were both still naked and the entire room smelled of sex. 

“I did remember that and when you barged in my door, I already knew that you still hadn’t changed when it came to that. Here, read this part right here.” He brings you over a copy and you run your fingers around the softback cover with a small smile on your face; this silly thing had brought you both back together and right now you could give less than a fuck about those reviews. 

Feeling the spine of the book, you open it and can practically smell the scent of an unopened new book. Turning the first few pages, you go to the one page acknowledgment and read it aloud: “She might not read this book. But if she does, by chance. I hope she knows that I still love her.” You wiped your eyes and smiled. “You’re an asshole, you know?”

He lets out a hearty laugh, “I know baby.” Kissing the top of your head, he gets up and grabs his phone from the kitchen counter and you follow him. “I think I have enough material to write a third book now.” He grabs his phone and starts typing, his eyebrows furrowed as if he was deep in thought. Attempting to grab his phone he chuckles and uses his height to his advantage by standing taller.

Standing on the tips of your toes you snort, “Don’t even joke about that!” But a smile takes over your face and he can’t help but smile too. 

[rafeysbangs]

ꪆৎ𓏲 ๋࣭  ࣪ ˖↷ ex!bf!rafe sneaks into your room late at night...

warnings ; MDNI !!, ex!bf!rafe, soft!rafe i guess, oral f. receiving, fingering, unprotected sex, p in v, rafe calls reader baby, creampie, aftercare ! yippee

notes ; phew... enjoyyy !

the cool night air swept through your open balcony door, carrying the distant hum of cicadas. you were curled up in bed, trying to focus on the book in your hands, when the faint scrape of shoes against metal made your heart leap.

"rafe?" you whispered harshly, your pulse quickening as his familiar frame hauled itself over the edge of the balcony.

"don’t freak out," he said quickly, holding his hands up as if to calm you. his hair was a mess, his eyes wild, and he looked more desperate than you’d ever seen him.

"are you insane? you can’t be here, especially not at this hour," you hissed, glancing nervously at your door.

but rafe wasn’t listening. he crossed the room in two long strides, his voice cracking as he said, "i had to see you. i can’t- i can’t do this without you."

you folded your arms, trying to stand your ground, even as your chest tightened at the raw edge in his tone. "we broke up, rafe. i broke up with you. and you know why. i can’t keep pretending it doesn’t kill me every time i see you flirting with someone else."

"i wasn’t-" he started, but you cut him off with a sharp look.

"don’t lie to me. i saw you. over and over again. it’s too much, rafe. i couldn’t do it anymore."

his hands raked through his hair, his frustration evident. "it wasn’t what you thought, i swear. i’m... i’m a mess without you, okay? i’ve been losing my mind since you left. no one else matters- no one but you. i’m obsessed with you, and i’ll prove it. i’ll do whatever it takes to make it right."

"rafe," you began, your voice softer now, but he stepped closer, his hands gripping yours like his life depended on it.

"it’ll never happen again. i swear on everything. just... just give me one more chance," he pleaded, his blue eyes locking onto yours, filled with a vulnerability that made your heart ache.

you tried to resist, tried to remind yourself why you ended things, but the way he looked at you, like you were his entire world, made it nearly impossible.

"i don’t know if i can trust you," you said quietly, your voice trembling.

"you can," he said, his voice steady. "i’ll spend the rest of my life proving it to you if i have to."

before you could argue further, his lips were on yours, cutting off your words in a kiss so desperate, so full of longing, that it left you breathless. your resolve crumbled as his hands cupped your face, pulling you closer.

the kiss deepened, his lips trailing to your jaw and down your neck as your back hit the bed. he hovered over you, his breath hot against your skin as he murmured your name like a prayer.

your fingers tangled in his hair as his lips travelled down your body, heat pooled in your lower stomach watching him grow closer to the waistband of your tiny pyjama shorts.

he stopped there, slowly littering kisses as he looked up at you, you chewed at your bottom lip as your eyes were stuck on his, "rafe..."

"i'll make you feel good baby... don't worry" he whispered against your skin, sending shivers up your spine. his course fingers connected with your clothed pussy, slowly rubbing circles to make you squirm.

he grinned when he saw you twitch at his touch, your clit aching from the lack of direct contact. as if he could read your body, he pulled your shorts to the side, now faced with soaked panties staring back at him.

rafe sighed gratefully, "you're so soaked already, god you're perfect" he mumbled. his long fingers traced your slit and he chuckled a little to himself before pulling your panties to the side too.

without warning, his mouth connected with your wet cunt, sloppy kisses and flicks of his tongue made your eyes roll back before he slid a finger through your folds again. he tapped at your aching hole before sliding a finger in, watching your face contort as you got used to the welcome intrusion.

you groaned, "god-" rafe's smirk perking up against your heat, he came up for air for a second, "rafe's fine baby.."

you threw your head back as he licked a stripe down your pussy, grinning as he slid another finger inside, curling them before mercilessly pumping them in and out.

one thing leads to another, you're bent over the bed, rafe's cock bulging out of your stomach as his hips snap against your ass. a loud whine escapes your lips as he's rearranging your guts. your tight walls clamping desperately around his cock as your ass bounces with every thrust.

his tip brushes your cervix as he thrusts into you a few more times before pulling out and flipping you over mumbling, "need to see your pretty face.."

he shoves your body further onto the bed before climbing over you with his classic smirk. your breathing ragged as your eyes locked with his, he tapped his cock on your pussy before dragging it through your folds. he knew the teasing drove you crazy, your eyebrows cinched together as his ego grew.

a pornographic moan escaped your lips as he slid in again, rolling his hips against yours he pumped his cock at a heavenly pace. your nails left crescent shaped indents as you gripped on rafe's arms, the pleasure sending the both of you into overdrive.

rafe cursed as his thrusts grew sloppy, the way your gummy walls were squeezing him made him dizzy, his release creeping up on him. you too could feel a familiar coil tightening in your stomach, unsurprised at the discovery that rafe was the only one to be able to make you cum, even when you're technically broken up.

he lifts a hand and connects it with one of your tits, his tongue darting between his lips as he massaged the fat, your nipple between his fingers. you whimpered as his cock kissed your cervix before finally you felt the coil snap, your orgasm overpowering you.

the way your pussy clenched rafe's cock as you finished around him caused him to groan gutturally, spilling his release into your sopping hole. he collapsed on top of you, littering your neck and cheeks with kisses as he heavily breathed.

"fuck.. i love you baby" he said finally before getting up and slowly pulling out, his release leaking from you a little. he grinned at the sight and pumped to fingers into your pussy, pushing his cum back inside you. "i'll get us a wet towel" he mumbled, walking towards your bathroom after kissing you on the forehead.

taglist ; @rafegetinmybed @doeletteprincess ( feel free to ask to be added! idm! )

[dirkxcaliborn]

today was weird because I was trying to read my book on my break and there was something about a suicidal woman attacking a man, embracing him as she fell under water and began to drown and realizing her miserable life was finally coming to an end... and knowing that man went on to be prosecuted for her death and struggled for years to process it and at the end was determined to hold close to his heart the secret that she didn't want to live in the first place........ and then having to go back to work bro that kinda fucked me up a little agshsksjshe

[eczlipse]

pussy drunk jay with inexperienced reader🫶

pussy drunk — park jongseong（ 박종성）

as you and your boyfriend keep constantly missing each other because of work— when you both finally see each other , he can’t seem to hold himself back.

pairing & warnings : pussydrunk!jay (obvi), reader!inexperienced, sub!reader, fem!reader, nicknames.. (princess, my love)

authors note; hoping you enjoy this anon!! love youu <33 p.s not proof read…

you’d waited a while back at home, your handsome boyfriend had stayed at the studio— recording songs for his bands upcoming album. you missed him, work had taken up most of his time leaving you alone at home. jay on the other hand, missed you both physically and emotionally— being far away from you constantly, made him feel a significant need for you.

you sighed as you laid down on your shared bed, wishing he were next to you. pulling out your phone, you thought that ‘it wouldn’t hurt to text him while he’s a work. right?’ at that you sent him a message.

hi handsome when r u getting home ?

after a couple minutes of impatience, he’d sent you a text back.

i’ll be home soon princess, can’t wait to see you. give me another 10 minutes?

at that, you couldn’t help but blush at his written words. you were so excited to kiss your boyfriend, cuddle with him and have him by your side for the night. you then reached into your nightstand and picked up a book— beginning to read as you waited for jay.

as you slowly began to snooze, you heard a familiar sound coming from your front door— the door unlocking. at that, you got up quickly and made your way to the door reconnecting with your boyfriend. he smiled down at you as you wrapped your arms around his neck— kissing him softly. as it slowly came to an end, you both pulled away.

- i missed you so much, you wouldn’t believe it my love.

he spoke as his hand rested on your waist, you smiled at him before talking back—

- i’m flattered… i missed you too i guess…

you said sarcastically, he rolled his eyes and hugged you tightly— keeping you in his arms for a while, swaying side to side. your boyfriend then began to guide you to your shared bedroom, wasting no time.

you laid down, chuckling at his neediness. your boyfriend joined you, on top of you— you had never seen him in such detail. what had gotten into him? he continued to kiss you, placing his hands on your jawline sinking into the kiss, he wanted more. you slightly moaned in between kisses, for him— that’s what made him yearn for you even more.

at that, he began to trail his hands around your body. you felt confused, you’d never been touched in such ways. jay could tell your nervousness as his hands slid down your body. you nodded at him slightly, letting him know he was allowed to continue. you let each others hands roam around your bodies. as he reached your jeans, he looks at you and asked a simple yet important question—

- is this okay ?

you gulped and nodded, you had never been handled in such ways. he suddenly began to unzip your jeans— throwing them somewhere around the room and even slightly pulling down your underwear. he kissed down, from your lips down to your stomach and finally down to your wet entrance. he let his fingers rub your area, causing you to whimper. you felt so vulnerable to him, as if he could do anything to you— and that was exactly what he wanted : doing anything to you.

you gasped at his sudden appearance in between your legs, you felt him begin to flick his tongue within your entrance.

his tongue delved into your slick folds. he lapped at your clit, flicking your sensitive areas with the tip of his tongue before sucking it between his lips.

- you're so wet for me already, keep still mkay’

he groaned, the vibrations of his voice sending shivers through you. you attempted to keep still but his touch made it all so difficult. jay then gripped your thighs, spreading your legs wider as he buried his face in between you.

your fingers tangled in his hair at the unfamiliar feeling, tugging and pushing his head closer. soft, needy moans spilled from your lips, growing louder and more desperate as he brought you closer to the edge.

- that’s it, baby. are you alright?

you whimpered in response as he encouraged you, licking and sucking your clit. he doubled his efforts, tongue circling your entrance rapidly.

suddenly, your body began to tense, back arching as the intense pleasure crested. your moans had gotten louder, you cried out, gripping his hair tightly as you clenched around his tongue. he could tell you were at your climax,

jay moaned into your cunt, as you came all over his lips. pulling back, jay grinned up at you, his face glistening with your arousal.

he then crawled up to your body, pressing soft kisses along your stomach and breasts before capturing your lips in a deep, passionate kiss. you tasted yourself on his tongue, the flavor heady and intoxicating.

- i love you so much.

he murmured against your lips, his eyes shining with adoration and satisfaction. you wrapped your arms around him, holding him close as you both basked in the afterglow.

- i love you too.

[alsofoundinpeas]

No One's Ever Had Me (Not Like You)

Summary: After JJ's insensitive remarks toward Spencer become too much to ignore, Y/N steps in to comfort him, igniting a friendship that rapidly grows into something more. Though Y/N falls for him first, Spencer soon finds himself falling even harder, realizing no one has ever cared for him the way she does—and he's ready to return it in full.

CONTENT WARNINGS: 18+ MDNI!! This fic is intended for adult audiences. Oral/Facesitting (f!receiving), dirty talk, praise kink (if you squint), masturbating (m!only), fingering (f!receiving), unprotected sex/PinV sex (wrap it before you tap it lovelies pls), c** swallowing (I don't know how else to put that HAHAHA), slight overstim (for both parties), slightly ooc!JJ (for the plot), one brief argument scene between the reader and JJ. Fluff and smut. Coworkers to friends to lovers.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!BAU!reader/afab!reader

A/N: I love a little "she fell first, he fell harder" trope, so I'm hoping you guys enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it. :) I am once again pleading my case that I am NOT a JJ hater!! I just saw a clip of this scene from season 3 and was inspired because I too have been in Spencer's shoes and honestly it hurts, so I wanted to change up the outcome a little bit. The title comes from Taylor Swift's "So High School" but the fic isn't necessarily based around the song if that makes sense. As always, please tell me what you think! If you enjoy it, please like, reblog, and share it with your friends. <3 Thank you and I love you all!! :)

Y/N had never been particularly fond of JJ. They worked well together, of course—professionalism came first—but there was something about JJ that rubbed her the wrong way. It felt so high school to say, but Y/N had always seen her as a bit of a "mean girl."

Y/N had joined the BAU a year after Spencer, and she’d witnessed firsthand the awkwardness when Spencer, shy and eager, had asked JJ to go to a football game with him as a date after Gideon had given him tickets. A sweet, innocent gesture, only for JJ to show up with Penelope in tow, turning the evening into a humiliating disaster for Spencer. That was just one of the many moments Y/N had found herself bristling at JJ's treatment of him. Despite JJ’s consistent indifference and occasional cruelty, Spencer’s feelings for her had never wavered. 

Until today.

Spencer sat across from JJ on the jet, eager to share his excitement about the book he was reading and its similarities with Pinocchio, his voice bubbling with enthusiasm as he rambled on. He barely noticed the lack of interest in JJ's eyes, her eyebrows raised in a near-sarcastic expression as she muttered a disinterested "Wow" in the middle of his sentence. She tossed the case file onto the table without a second glance and stood. "Interesting. Coffee?" she asked, her voice dripping with faux sweetness, her smile a brittle, saccharine mask. 

Spencer froze, his words dying in his throat as she swiftly walked away. He felt a sinking sensation in his chest—an awkward mix of humiliation and disappointment. Was he that annoying? His hands trembled slightly as he glanced down at the book in his lap, the pages now feeling heavier than they had moments ago. He cleared his throat, but the discomfort lingered, thick in the air.

Y/N had been watching the whole exchange from her spot on the couch, her eyes narrowing as she watched JJ throw her head back in a loud laugh at something Morgan had said about “escaping the robot” from across the jet. That was the breaking point. Y/N's stomach twisted with frustration. She was tired—so tired—of watching JJ repeatedly gut the sweet boy simply because he had a hopeless crush on her, one that JJ clearly saw as beneath her.  

Swinging her legs from where they were tucked underneath her, Y/N stood and made her way to the seat JJ had previously been occupying, sliding into it abruptly.

Spencer’s head jerked up as she quickly filled the seat, blinking hard as confusion washed over his features. “Oh! Uh, hey Y/N… was there something you needed?” he asked softly, his gaze dropping back to the table, hoping she wouldn’t notice the wounded look in his eyes.

“I was listening to your conversation earlier and wanted to ask if you would continue. Please.”

Spencer’s mouth parted in surprise, unsure if he’d heard her correctly. She… wanted to listen to him? He swallowed, his brows furrowing slightly as he hesitated before speaking. “You... you don’t have to do that just to make me feel better, you know.”

Y/N shook her head firmly, her hands coming together on the table as she leaned in slightly, her eyes never leaving his. “Spencer,” she said softly, her voice steady. “I’m not asking you to continue because I feel sorry for you. I’m asking because I actually want to hear what you have to say.” Her tone was gentle yet sincere, and there was no mistaking the genuine interest in her words.

Spencer’s heart raced as he stared at her, his mind struggling to catch up with the moment before he finally opened his mouth, stumbling over the words to continue his excited rant from earlier. Spencer felt something shift inside him with every hum of acknowledgment, nod, and occasional question or light joke. It hit him all at once—this was how she always spoke to him: fully engaged, genuinely curious. She didn’t see him as the genius or the outcast. She saw him as... just Spencer. A person. Not a curiosity. Not a burden. Just him.

And for the rest of the flight, Y/N encouraged Spencer to spill every single thought that came to mind, entranced by the sweet boy in front of her for the entire time.

It was late when they finally landed, the team worn out and eager to get home. With quick goodbyes and Hotch’s promise of a day off tomorrow, the group trickled out of the office, one by one. When Spencer was left alone in the bullpen, he let out a deep sigh, running a hand through his hair as he sat at his desk under the guise of needing to look for something before leaving. His thoughts kept drifting back to the interaction with Y/N on the jet. He couldn’t shake it. And for the life of him, he couldn’t understand why.

It wasn’t like they weren’t already friends—talking to her was nothing out of the ordinary. But something about their interaction today felt different. Maybe it was how quickly she’d stepped in when she saw he was hurt? Then again, the more Spencer thought about it, the more he realized that wasn’t all that unusual either. He’d often felt out of place—whether it was the team’s teasing that sometimes went too far, JJ’s backhanded compliments that left him more bewildered than flattered, or the officers who looked past him because of his age or appearance.

And every time, without fail, Y/N had been there. She was always the one picking up the pieces of his bruised confidence, offering him quiet support with nothing more than a kind word or a warm smile, never asking for anything in return.

“Spencer?” 

Spencer jumped, the unexpected voice pulling him out of his thoughts. He spun around in his seat, heart racing, to find Y/N standing there, her hands raised in a placating gesture. He’d thought she’d already left with the rest of the team, but apparently, he’d been wrong.  

“Whoa, take it easy—it's just me. Are you okay?” Y/N approached slowly, her expression softening with concern as Spencer took slow, deep breaths, trying to steady his racing heart.

“Uh, yeah! I-I’m fine,” Spencer stammered, wincing as his voice cracked. “I just… I thought everyone had already left.”

“Oh, sorry,” she said with a chuckle, flashing a sheepish grin. “I told Hotch I’d drop everything off in evidence before heading out, but I kind of took my time.” She shrugged, then glanced at him. “What about you? Why are you still here?”

Spencer hesitated, his brow furrowing as he thought about her question. What was he still doing here, other than overthinking a simple conversation on the jet? He cleared his throat and stood up from his desk. “I thought I left a certain book here, but... it turns out it’s actually at home.” The weak excuse was followed by a nervous laugh as Spencer fidgeted with his fingers, silently hoping she wouldn’t question him further. 

It seemed luck was on his side, as she nodded slowly—her disbelief clear, but deciding not to press. Instead, she offered a soft smile and tilted her head toward the elevator. “Well, if you're heading out now, would you like to walk with me to my car?” Y/N asked, her voice laced with a hint of hope. “I can give you a ride so you don’t have to take the metro so late.”

Spencer was momentarily surprised by the offer, but before he could overanalyze it, he found himself nodding. She’d offered him rides before, and he’d always turned her down, worried he’d be inconveniencing her or that she was just being polite. But tonight, after the grueling case, he felt too drained to talk himself out of it. Honestly, he wasn’t opposed to spending a little more time with her—just the two of them.

“Um… that would be really nice, actually. Thank you.” 

Y/N waved it off with a playful grin. “It’s really no big deal, Spencer. I honestly wish you'd take me up on it more often. I worry about you on those late trains, and I live just five minutes from you. It’d be nice to have some company on the way home.” 

They continued their light conversation the entire way to the parking garage, pausing only when they got to her car. Y/N fumbled with her keys, unlocking the doors quickly before they slid inside.

The first thing Spencer noticed was the sweet fragrance of her perfume, filling the small space around them. He hadn’t really noticed it before, but now he found himself trying hard not to breathe in too deeply, captivated by the scent and wanting more of it. The smell of her shampoo blended with the fragrance, intensifying as she turned her head to back out of her parking spot. Spencer hadn’t even realized the car had started until that moment.

The next thing he noticed was the sticker on her dash reading Amor Fati. A faint smile curled at his lips as he shifted his gaze to her. He watched her silently for a moment as she focused on the road.

“Lover of fate, huh?”

“Hm?” Y/N frowned in confusion, shooting him a quick sideways glance as she stopped at a red light. It took a moment before she realized what he was referring to. “Oh, yeah. What about it, doc?” She chuckled, her voice light and teasing.

Spencer hummed, a sly grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Oh, nothing… But, did you know that Friedrich Nietzsche built most of his philosophy around that phrase?”

They plunged into a lively conversation, exchanging thoughts on various philosophers and their personal interpretations of the phrase. Spencer was captivated. The only other person who had ever indulged him in such “nerdy” discussions was Penelope (mostly about Doctor Who, of course). It was oddly refreshing, but at the same time, it only added fuel to the fire of his overthinking.

What was it that kept him so hopelessly fixated on JJ? She could be a good friend at times—he wouldn’t deny that—but there were moments when he felt like nothing more than a charity case. Like that kid who clings to someone at school, oblivious to the fact that they don’t actually want to talk to them. She was beautiful, of course—anyone could see that. But they didn’t share much in common, and their hobbies barely aligned. So why did he always end up seeking her out, when there were so many other people he could spend time with?

After the incident on the jet, Spencer had made a decision. He was done pouring so much energy into the blonde liaison and instead would focus on building a genuine friendship with Y/N. Not just the casual co-worker relationship they had, but something real. Maybe that’s why her sudden attention on the jet had caught him off guard. Maybe it wasn’t a crush forming, but rather a deep-rooted loneliness, a subconscious desire for a true friend. That had to be it.

The drive to his apartment seemed to fly by, and as Spencer stepped out of the car, he was surprised by the sense of reluctance that settled over him. He murmured his thanks and goodnight to Y/N, offering a shy smile, his thoughts lingering on the brief but unexpected moment of connection.

"Hey, Spencer?" Y/N called just as he was about to close the door. He paused, and she went on, her tone genuine. "I meant what I said. If you ever want to skip the metro and ride with me instead, I’d love the company. Honestly, I enjoyed our drive so much more than the usual Top 40 hits on the radio."

Spencer’s smile grew, a hesitant nod accompanying the soft bite of his lower lip. This was the opportunity to build something real with her, and for once, he decided not to second-guess it. “I’d really like that, actually.”

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat, a blend of relief and excitement bubbling up inside her. A smile spread across her face as she let out a soft breath. "Great. I’m looking forward to it," she said, her voice warm. "Goodnight, Spencer. Enjoy your day off tomorrow."

The first week of Spencer’s newfound behavior had Y/N feeling… disoriented, for lack of a better term. It wasn’t a bad feeling, not at all. She was genuinely thrilled by the extra attention, but she couldn’t quite figure out what had caused the sudden shift in their dynamic.

Spencer had begun riding home with her after work, both of them quickly growing fond of the newfound companionship. Throughout the day, he found himself gravitating toward her desk more often, offering to help with paperwork or providing a second opinion when she second guessed something. As they spent more time together, their conversations became easier—what had started as awkward exchanges soon evolved into Spencer initiating talks, no longer waiting for her to take the lead.

The irritated huff that escaped JJ’s lips as she stormed past everyone and into her office after Spencer politely declined her offer to sit with her and sort through case files, made it clear—Y/N wasn’t the only one noticing the change.

The next notable shift came when the BAU was called to California for a case. As everyone filed onto the jet and took their usual seats, there was one exception: Spencer Reid. When Y/N settled onto the couch, she was greeted by a soft, uncertain voice.

“Can I join you?” Spencer asked, his fingers nervously tugging at the end of his cardigan sleeves as he blinked at her with those sweet, vulnerable brown eyes.

The entire team glanced up in surprise, caught off guard by Spencer's decision not to take his usual spot across from JJ. Y/N, both puzzled and pleased, quickly moved to make space, patting the seat beside her with an encouraging smile.

"Of course, Spence. Go right ahead."

Spencer let out a quiet sigh, his shoulders drooping in relief as he settled into the seat next to Y/N, the tension he hadn’t realized he was carrying easing from his body. Ignoring the gawking from the others, he leaned in slightly, feeling more at ease in her presence. As Y/N opened the case file, he glanced at her with a small smile, ready to dive into the work with her by his side.

Morgan chuckled from across the jet, looking at JJ with raised brows as she scoffed to herself. "What'd you do to piss off the kid?"

“I didn’t do anything! And when did she start calling him ‘Spence’?” JJ grumbled, her arms crossed defensively as she narrowed her eyes at the two of them.

“Whoa,” Morgan muttered, his smile dropping into a frown. “Didn’t realize I was hitting a sore spot. What’s it matter what she calls him, anyway?”

JJ stiffened, her words catching in her throat as she struggled to respond. Morgan was right—she wasn’t the only one who could give Spencer a nickname. But that was her name for him, and it stung a little more now, given the distance that had been growing between them.

"It’s nothing," JJ replied quickly, forcing a casual shrug. "I was just surprised, that’s all." But even as she spoke, she couldn’t shake the unease lingering in her chest, unsure why it bothered her so much.

The remainder of the flight was spent with the team discussing the case, Hotch assigning tasks for when they touched down. Once they had gone over everything they could, the conversation tapered off, and silence settled over the cabin. Each team member retreated into their own thoughts, but Y/N and Spencer remained deep in discussion, quietly exchanging ideas about the unsub.

As they leaned in to continue their conversation, they unknowingly inched closer, drawn together by the ease of their shared focus. And when Spencer felt Y/N's knee brush against his, he kept his leg still, savoring the contact in silence—his secret to keep.

It took Spencer just over two months to finally gather the courage to ask Y/N to hang out outside of work or their shared car rides—something he had started contributing to so he could get more comfortable with driving. She’d quickly climbed the ranks of people he favored and felt comfortable with, but the fear of rejection still held him back. He didn’t want to jeopardize the connection they’d built, especially when it felt so important to him.

Spencer’s fear dissolved when he asked Y/N to come over and watch a film he’d picked up at an antique shop. Her excited smile and enthusiastic "Duh, I'd love to!" made him realize that she’d likely been waiting for him to take the first step all along.

He was grateful for how Y/N allowed him to move at his own pace, understanding that his accelerated path through high school and college had made it difficult for him to form connections. She never rushed him, giving him the space to open up when he was ready and letting their relationship develop naturally.

Y/N arrived at Spencer’s apartment, her arms loaded with snacks and dressed in cozy clothes, her excitement palpable. She enjoyed their car rides, of course, but an hour together hardly seemed enough compared to the time she truly longed to spend with him.

Y/N had been captivated by Spencer for years, but the more time they spent together, the harder her heart beat for him—every smile, every laugh, every conversation only added to her growing feelings. She told herself she was content with just being friends, that having him in her life, even in the smallest way, was enough. But deep down, she knew the truth—her heart yearned for something more, something that seemed just out of reach.

"Y/N! Hi, welcome in!"

The door swung open to reveal Spencer, his grin wide with excitement as he motioned for her to step inside. The sight of him—beaming with an almost childlike enthusiasm—made her smile in return. His apartment matched her expectations in the best way possible: shelves overflowing with books and quirky knick-knacks, soft, ambient light spilling from lamps that cast a cozy glow across the room, and a desk strewn with an organized mess of case files and open journals. It was a perfect reflection of Spencer—intellectually chaotic, but with an undeniable charm and warmth.

Spencer's heart skipped a beat as she entered the living room, and for a moment, he lost track of everything around him. He had always seen her dressed up for work—polished, professional, a perfect image of control. But now, in her casual clothes, with her hair down and no hint of the usual makeup, she looked entirely different.

She was still stunning, but it was a softer kind of beauty, one that crept up on him and left him breathless before he even realized it. It was subtle, almost unnoticeable at first glance, but once he took her in, he couldn’t seem to pull his focus away. Spencer had always thought he knew Y/N, but this version of her… this version felt like a secret he wasn’t ready to discover yet.

"Where would you like these?" Y/N asked, lifting her arms up with the snacks.

The sound of her voice broke Spencer from his daze, and he quickly moved to help, grabbing a few items to set them down on the coffee table. "Oh, uh, you didn’t have to bring snacks," he stammered, his hands fumbling with the food as he awkwardly rearranged it. "I was just going to order takeout or something. You’re the guest," he added, his words tumbling out in a nervous rush. His mind was racing, still caught in the subtle sweetness of her perfume that lingered in the air as he leaned in to grab the bags, making it hard to focus.

Y/N shrugged, a small grin playing on her lips as she set the snacks down. "I didn’t have to, but I wanted to. And if you’re still craving takeout later, I won't stop you from ordering it. Sound good?"

He nodded, his nose twitching as he grinned, feeling his tension ease. It was just Y/N, he reminded himself. There was no reason to feel this flustered.

An hour later, with the movie playing and a bag of gummy bears between them, Spencer quickly realized he'd been wrong. He had plenty of reasons to feel flustered.

The film, which had subtitles, was riddled with translation errors. Each time a jumbled sentence appeared, Y/N would lean in close, her breath warm against his ear causing shivers up and down his spine as she whispered, "What does that one mean?" Her thigh brushed against his, neither of them making any effort to break the contact. Spencer felt an almost electric warmth spread through him from the slight touch, his body aching for more. Was he really that starved for affection?

That night seemed to crack something deep inside him, like a dam giving way to a flood of longing for touch.

Spencer—who had always been wary of physical contact—now found himself drawn to Y/N in ways he hadn’t anticipated. Every time they handed each other papers or worked on case files together, he’d make sure their fingers brushed. As he passed by her desk, he’d let his fingers trace along her shoulder blades, offering her a quiet smile that she always returned. After particularly exhausting days, he’d seek her out, leaning into her embrace, letting her arms offer him comfort and grounding. And during their hangouts, Spencer no longer hesitated to inch closer, letting his side press against hers, or allowing her to stretch her legs over his lap. The proximity felt natural, and he couldn’t help but crave it more.

It only got worse as time went on. He couldn't keep his hands off of her. It wasn't just casual touches anymore—it was almost as if every opportunity to be near her was a chance to close the distance between them. Y/N couldn't get enough of it. And the team? They definitely noticed. JJ, in particular, seemed to pick up on it right away.

JJ had attempted to confront Spencer about his growing closeness with Y/N before, but each time, he waved her off, insisting that he and Y/N had simply discovered they had more in common than he'd realized and that he just wanted to be her friend. JJ wasn’t convinced—not for a second. It was obvious to her that Spencer was falling for Y/N, and for reasons she couldn’t fully explain, it left a bad taste in her mouth. It wasn’t that she harbored romantic feelings for him, but she had grown accustomed to his attention. As much as she hated to admit it, she missed being the one to receive it.

The tension finally boiled over when the team was dispatched to a case in Oregon.

It had been six months since the incident on the jet, and Y/N and Spencer had become almost inseparable. Garcia and Morgan, delighted by their closeness, often teased them and playfully begged them to just admit they were dating—though both vehemently insisted that their relationship was purely platonic. Rossi and Emily often exchanged knowing looks on the jet, with Emily even going so far as to snap a picture of Y/N and Spencer sleeping on the couch after a case—a cute picture featuring Spencer’s head resting on Y/N’s and her face tucked into his shoulder as they peacefully dozed together. Even Hotch seemed to approve, having reviewed the Bureau’s internal fraternization policies just in case Strauss raised an issue. The only person who didn’t seem thrilled about it was JJ.

Two days in Oregon, and the team was already facing an uphill battle. They’d been working non-stop to build a profile for the unsub, but so far, nothing had gone right. There were no witnesses who could provide a description, a local officer had already compromised key evidence from the first crime scene, and the victims seemed to have no clear link to one another. Frustration was mounting for everyone, but for JJ it was mounting for an entirely separate reason.

Spencer had been managing his frustration through subtle touches with Y/N—brief brushes of his hand against her lower back as he passed, pressing his head into her shoulder with a frustrated groan after combing through their limited information for hours... But the moment that pushed JJ to her breaking point was when Spencer, noticing an officer staring at Y/N, pulled her possessively into him, his hand firmly gripping her waist until that officer left the room.

"Y/N?"

JJ's voice was tight as she stepped into the conference room the local officers had set up for the BAU to use during their case, spotting Y/N standing in front of the pinned-up map of the area as she studied the locations where the victims had been found. Spencer had just left, going to start more coffee for them since they were running low. The rest of the team was out in the field, reinvestigating the crime scenes for anything that may have been missed initially.

Y/N looked up, her brow furrowing as JJ closed the door. They weren’t close on a personal level, and Y/N couldn’t think of any reason, related to the case or otherwise, for JJ to want to speak with her alone.

"...Yes?"

JJ lingered near the end of the table, her arms crossed across her chest as she leveled Y/N with a look that immediately had her on edge. "I’m not trying to pry, but as his best friend, I have to ask… what’s going on between you and Spencer?" Her face was twisted in a scowl, her head tilting as she waited for a response.

Y/N's eyebrows nearly shot up into her hairline at that, a scoffed laugh leaving her lips before she could stop it. His best friend. Was she serious?

"Excuse me?"

"What's going on with you and Spencer?" JJ repeated, her voice deliberate. "Everyone’s noticed how he’s been acting—the constant touching, for one, is a bit much, don’t you think? He never wants to hang out with me anymore. It’s like he's all about you now. So, are you two seeing each other or what?"

Y/N turned to face JJ fully, her lips tightening into a thin line as she took a steadying breath. Her audacity was astounding, truly. The last thing she wanted today was to argue with this fucking—

"That's hilarious, Jennifer. Really," Y/N chuckled lowly, shaking her head. "Have you ever considered that maybe—just maybe—Spencer is an adult who can make his own decisions? I’m not the reason he doesn't want to spend time with you."

JJ stiffened at the mention of her name, scoffing in response. "Oh, clearly you have something to do with it. Before you started driving him home, he followed me around like a lost puppy. Now he barely even wants to be around me!"

That struck a nerve in Y/N, like a live wire finally sparked to life. A lost puppy? Was that truly how little she thought of him? Y/N's head tilted, her voice dropping to a low, dangerous tone as she spoke again.

"Don't you ever talk about Spencer like that again. He's not your fucking pet, Jennifer!"

Her voice was menacing as she stepped forward, grim satisfaction coursing through her as JJ stumbled backward.

"Spencer is a brilliant, capable man who’s never deserved the way you or anyone else have made him feel less than that. We’re not dating. But if we were, I wouldn’t be ashamed of him. Unlike you, who found the idea of a man like him adoring you repulsive instead of seeing it for the gift it was. Spencer Reid is a fucking treasure, and it’s entirely your fault you never realized how lucky you were to have his attention."

Y/N's face was flushed red with anger, her chest heaving as she seethed.

"So again, I have nothing to do with him not wanting to spend time with you anymore. Maybe he finally realized that you're just not as great of a person as you pretend to be."

Rather than waiting for the teary-eyed, speechless blonde to reply, Y/N grabbed her things and stormed out, heading out to take an early lunch. But as she swung the door open, she was met with Spencer standing right there, and before she could react, she collided with his chest. His hands immediately flew to her waist, steadying her as she looked up sheepishly.

"Shit! I’m sorry, Spence," Y/N muttered, still fuming from her conversation with JJ. Her face turned even redder when she realized he might have heard some of it, but she didn’t regret a word of what she’d said.

He hadn't just heard some of it... He'd heard all of it. When he’d left earlier, he’d turned back, intending to ask if she wanted to take a break from the map. Instead, he had been met with the sight of JJ closing the door, and he curiously (shamefully) pressed up against it to know what was going on.

Admittedly, it stung to hear JJ talk about him like that, even though he already knew she'd taken advantage of his past crush on her. But Y/N's words and how she defended him hit him harder than expected. It became clear in that instant—no one had ever been there for him the way she always had been, and somewhere along the way, he'd fallen deeply in love with her.

"Hey, hey, it’s alright," Spencer said quietly, his hands smoothing over her waist before resting gently on her shoulders. "Go take your lunch. You’ve earned a break. I’ll keep working on the geographical profile until you return."

Y/N offered a weary but grateful smile before walking away, leaving Spencer alone to process the revelation weighing on him.

That night, Spencer paced his hotel room, caught between waiting until they were home to tell Y/N how he felt or just saying it now. He felt like an idiot for not recognizing it sooner, for convincing himself his feelings for her were purely platonic. But now that he knew, it consumed him. He wanted to shout it to the heavens, to tell the world he was in love with her.

Spencer knew what he had to do. He realized that confessing his feelings in the middle of a case wasn’t ideal, but the thought of waiting any longer to let her know how much she meant to him was unbearable. That’s why, before he could talk himself out of it, he found himself standing outside her door at midnight, knocking softly.

"Spence? You okay?"

Her sleepy voice tugged at his heart as she opened the door, rubbing her eyes and letting out a soft yawn. She smiled faintly, gesturing for him to come in. The room was cloaked in darkness, but the moonlight spilling through the curtains illuminated the crumpled sheets, evidence of her restless sleep.

His heart hammered in his chest as he breathed in unsteadily, lowering himself onto the edge of her bed. She crawled back to the middle, flicking on the bedside lamp, the soft light casting a warm glow between them. His courage started to falter, but the gentle concern in her eyes anchored him. He remembered why he was here—because with her, he felt safe enough to face this, no matter how vulnerable he felt.

"Y/N, I—" Spencer began, his voice catching for a moment, but he continued anyway. "I heard what happened with JJ earlier, and it made me realize something I should’ve recognized a long time ago. I was so caught up in denial that it didn’t hit me until now. And I’m so sorry for that…"

Oh, fuck. He was starting to ramble. This isn't how he wanted this to go at all—

"Y/N... I'm in love with you. I am so, so in love with you that it aches. You are, without a doubt, the most beautiful person I’ve ever known. And it’s not just the way you look, though I could spend hours talking about how stunning you are. It’s who you are, the goodness that radiates from you. You make me want to be better, to wake up every day and try to be at least half the person you are. You care for everyone around you like it’s your purpose, and I want to be the one who takes care of you for once because you truly deserve that. I’ve never felt anything like this, and if you don’t feel the same way, that’s okay. But I just—I needed you to know."

Y/N’s jaw dropped as Spencer’s confession filled the air, her eyes welling with tears as the words she had longed for spilled from him. She moved swiftly, sitting up from the pillows and crawling toward him, a tear dripping down her cheek as she rested her hands on his shoulders.

"I love you too, Spencer Reid," she breathed, her voice trembling with sincerity. "I love you with everything I am."

Spencer’s lungs burned as he released a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. He returned her watery smile, his heart overflowing with love for the woman before him. Carefully, he cupped her face, his thumb following the line of her cheeks, his eyes filled with a quiet mix of wonder and adoration.

“Can I kiss you? Please?”

Her lips were on his the second he uttered the last syllable.

The kiss was both gentle and intense, their lips meeting with a deliberate slowness as if savoring every moment of crossing the line from friendship into something more. There was a hunger beneath the tenderness, an unspoken yearning finally being released. Their lips parted for only a second, allowing them to suck in a quick breath before they were back on each other. Each kiss was a quiet revelation, better than they had ever dreamed.

What started as an innocent declaration of their feelings for each other quickly evolved into something more ravenous as Spencer’s tongue prodded at the seam of her lips. The soft exhale Y/N released as their tongues brushed together had Spencer groaning, one of his hands sliding to cradle the back of her head as he savored the taste of her and the feeling of her lips against his. His other hand gingerly slid down her body, settling on her hip as he leaned forward, guiding her to rest against the pillows.

Y/N’s thighs parted eagerly to make room for him between them, her hands lacing through his hair as she tugged him impossibly closer. His elbows dug into the mattress beside her body as he hovered above her, swallowing the moan that slipped from her lips when their hips pressed together. He chased her lips when she tipped her head back, kissing her with an intensity that made her dizzy and had her whining into his mouth.

"I-I want— Spence, please—"

Y/N pleaded as his lips trailed down the side of her neck to suck a mark into her collarbone, though she wasn't even sure what she was begging for. She just knew she needed him. Her body felt like it was aflame, ignited by the spark that was Spencer's tongue soothing the possessive bruise now blooming across her skin. She needed him so desperately that her mind became a blur, consumed by an endless craving, unable to focus on anything but the overwhelming desire for more—more of him, more of this, more of everything he offered.

The thin fabric of their pajamas did little to conceal the feeling of his stiff cock grinding against her in subtle rocks of his hips as his hands began to roam her body, only adding to the overwhelming need she felt coursing through her. Spencer hushed her with a gentle peck, his lips lingering against hers for a brief, sweet moment before he moved to kiss her nose, her cheeks, and finally her forehead. With each gentle kiss, she couldn't help but giggle softly, her laughter melting into the space between them.

"I know, pretty girl. You're already so worked up and all I've done is kiss you," he cooed, the words taking her by surprise. He wasn't wrong. A wet patch had started seeping through the cotton of her pants, something his fingers had taken an interest in as he began to lightly skim up and down her clit with his knuckles over the damp fabric. "No one ever takes care of you, do they, baby? Let me be the one to take care of you, Y/N. Please?" He paused, gently lifting her chin so he could meet her gaze.

Spencer’s words quieted the storm raging inside her, and she took a deep breath, her body finally relaxing. She couldn’t recall the last time she’d felt such a strong desire to let go, to stop carrying the weight of everything alone. To finally surrender and let someone take care of her. So she did exactly that.

"Yes. God, yes. Please, Spencer," Y/N whispered, her eyes searching his, full of need and trust.

It was as if a switch flipped the moment Spencer got the confirmation he needed.

His lips were back on hers in an instant, devouring her as though she'd melt away if he stopped touching her for even a second. He rolled them over, breaking the kiss to glide his hands underneath the rumpled t-shirt Y/N had on for bed and lifting it over her head in one swift motion. Ignoring her soft squeal of surprise, he brought his hands down to her hips, massaging the skin there before sliding his hands under the waistband of her pajama pants to grip her ass.

"Look at you… You're nothing short of incredible. Absolutely breathtaking," Spencer murmured, staring up at her in awe. The soft brown of his eyes had faded, overtaken by the dark void of his dilated pupils, as if a veil had been drawn across them. "I can't even begin to express how lucky I am to have you... how beautiful you are."

Y/N’s cheeks flushed under his gaze, her teeth gently catching her lower lip as she placed her hands beside his head for support. She shivered as her nipples brushed against the fabric of his shirt, hardened by the cool air of the hotel room and the desire she felt coursing through her. She answered with a hum and ducked her head shyly, mouthing at the sensitive skin underneath his jaw as she wriggled impatiently in his hold.

Spencer chuckled breathlessly, squeezing her ass again before retracting his hands. His fingers danced along the waistband of her pants teasingly before he began to tug them down, dragging her panties with them. His heart raced as she wiggled out of them, hammering against his chest with a rhythm that felt almost deafening. He couldn’t comprehend what he’d done to deserve someone like her, but he would spend a lifetime making sure she knew just how precious she was to him.

"It's your turn to strip," Y/N mumbled as she sat up, straddling his waist as her hands found their way under his shirt. "I feel so... exposed."

Spencer’s brows quirked in amusement, a quiet laugh slipping out before he could stop it as she shoved the shirt up and over his head. She slithered down his body, grinning up at him before placing a kiss on his hip bone. His pants soon joined the growing pile of clothes on the ground, followed shortly after by his boxers.

"There. Is that better, sweetheart?" Spencer teased, but the words went completely unheard as she gawked at him.

Y/N kneeled between his spread legs, her hands planted firmly on his thighs as she took in the sight of him. He lay before her like something straight out of her most vivid dreams, more stunning than she’d ever imagined. He was effortlessly handsome—his hair tousled, lips slightly swollen from their kisses, and freckles and scars scattered across his shoulders and chest like a map of his past. His muscles were lean and toned, and the sparse hair trailing down beneath his belly button was far more enticing than it should've been. His cock was as pretty as he was, the flushed head of his more than impressive arousal matching the pink of his cheeks.

She couldn’t tear her eyes away.

"C'mere. I'm supposed to be taking care of you," Spencer grinned, motioning for Y/N to crawl back over him.

Instead of letting her settle with her thighs around his hips like she had previously been, he tugged insistently, her brows furrowing in confusion as she wobbled above him.

"Spencer, what—"

"Get up here," Spencer crooned, finally managing to maneuver her forward so her pussy hovered over his mouth. "And sit down."

Y/N's jaw dropped, her hands flying out to catch herself as she gripped the headboard. She was taken aback, utterly speechless. Here she was, being manhandled by Spencer Reid. The same quiet, awkward genius who rambled endlessly about statistics and couldn’t sit still for more than a minute was man-handling her and demanding she sit on his face. Was she dreaming?

"Are you— are you sure?" Y/N squeaked, staring down at him with wide eyes. "You really don't have to—"

Spencer turned his head so he could pepper open-mouthed kisses up and down her inner thigh, coaxing a soft moan from her as his warm breath fanned across her soaked folds.

"Stop all that worrying, pretty girl. I told you I'd take care of you—let me keep my word."

Before she could protest, Spencer gripped her hips, pulling her down at the same time he tilted his head up to lap his tongue over her core. Any hesitation Y/N had left evaporated from her body as a guttural moan ripped its way from her throat, her eyes fluttering shut as Spencer dragged his tongue over her clit. His movements were languid but hungry as he reveled in the taste of her, relishing her essence as though it was the very thing he needed to fuel his existence.

The air was filled with a mixture of moans and the slick sound of Spencer's mouth working between her legs, only amplifying the intense pleasure swimming through her body. Once Spencer was sure Y/N would stay put, he let one of his hands fall away from her hips, tracing it down his body until it wrapped around his cock. The breathy sounds she was letting out had him painfully hard, his thumb spreading the bead of precum spilling from the tip down the length of him as he began to pump himself.

"Oh, fuck—" Y/N whined as she forced her eyes open, turning to look over her shoulder at the sound of Spencer touching himself. The sight had her thighs trembling, a low groan rumbling in her throat as she turned her gaze down to look at him underneath her.

His eyes were squeezed shut, his brows pinched together in pleasure as his hand began to move faster. It was downright sinful. She'd never seen anything more beautiful.

Spencer alternated between fucking his tongue into her and sucking gently at her clit, the combination hurtling her toward her orgasm at a speed she never thought was possible. Y/N's hips rocked against his face, frantic whimpers slipping from her lips as her face began to scrunch in pleasure. The needy moans he was letting out against her skin pushed her over the edge as a sharp gasp broke free into the air, followed by a loud cry as her hands dropped from the headboard to tangle into his hair while she came.

Spencer whimpered as he let go of himself, instead using his hands to anchor her down while he gently worked her through her climax. He pressed a small kiss to her clit before she squirmed away, falling onto the bed beside him as her chest heaved. A look of adoration lingered on his face as he stroked her side and hair, pressing his lips to her forehead while she caught her breath.

Y/N flashed a small grin, rolling her eyes at his proud expression. A comforting heaviness settled in her limbs, pulling her deeper into the bed as she released a soft sigh. It took her a few moments to push herself up on her elbow, shifting to face him instead of lying flat on her back.

"How am I ever supposed to get anything done again now that I know you can do that?" Y/N murmured with a hint of exasperation, tilting her head to nuzzle her nose against his.

Spencer’s breath hitched as she draped her leg across his waist, hissing quietly as the head of his cock brushed against her warmth. He hummed, feigning thought before shrugging with a playful grin. "Could be a reward for a job well done," he teased, brushing a lingering kiss across her lips as his hand rubbed up and down her thigh.

"Yeah?" Y/N's hips began to slowly rock back and forth, the friction from his cock pressing between her folds making her head spin. "Well, can I reward you for a job well done then?"

Spencer's fingers flexed against her thigh, a low noise escaping him as he fought to keep his eyes on hers.

It made sense to him now why sailors would plummet into icy waters at the sound of a siren's call. If that call was anything as alluring as the sound of her voice, he'd happily do the same. She could demand the most heinous things of him right now and he'd do them simply because she asked.

But tonight was about her.

So instead of caving and begging for her touch, he shook his head, his lips quirking up at the pout forming on her lips. "As much as I would love to take you up on that offer, I'm supposed to be taking care of you, sweetheart. Not the other way around."

"Okay... so then take care of me by fucking me. Please?"

Spencer's resolve broke at her words. How could he possibly deny her? He'd be an absolute fool not to give her whatever her heart wished for.

His lips met hers in a fervent kiss as he moved to hover over her once more. Two of his fingers found her soaked pussy and sank inside of her with little resistance, a smug grin finding its way to his face as she gasped loudly into his mouth. He broke the kiss, trailing his lips along her jaw before he whispered into her ear.

"Are you sure that's what you want?"

Y/N bucked her hips up into his touch, writhing underneath him as she nodded frantically. There wasn't a thing in this world that she wanted more. "Yes, Spence, please. Please fuck me. I need it—"

Spencer groaned, latching his lips onto the side of her neck as he inhaled sharply through his nose before he sat back on his heels. His fingers slipped out of her, her eyes widening as he brought the digits to his mouth and sucked them clean with a satisfied hum.

"Flip over."

Y/N followed his command without hesitation, the rush of anticipation making her feel almost detached, as though she were on autopilot, waiting to see what he would do next. Her breath caught in her throat as his lips pressed a gentle kiss to her shoulder before he reached for a pillow, tucking it underneath her hips to prop her up. A low whine emitted from her chest as she felt the flushed head of his arousal bump against her entrance, her hips canting back in an attempt to get him to push forward as he leaned forward, his chest brushing her back as he planted his hands into the mattress beside her.

"Do you want it like this, sweetheart? No condom? Because I can go find one..." Spencer murmured into her ear, his breathing labored as he teased her opening.

"Please— Wanna feel you, Spence," She whined into the pillow, arching her hips into his touch, though he remained just out of reach.

Spencer's eyes squeezed shut as a pang of arousal shot through him, taking a shuddering breath to mentally prepare himself not to blow his load before he even fucked her. With a kiss to the back of her head, Spencer began to press forward, easing into her inch by inch.

Y/N's mouth gaped open against the pillow she'd tugged underneath her head in a silent moan, the sensation of him finally filling her more intense than she'd expected. Her fingers gripped the sheets as he bottomed out, a pitiful whimper slipping free as she wiggled her hips in an attempt to adjust to the feeling. Her walls clenched around him instinctively as she adjusted, causing a broken moan to fall from his lips as his head rested against her shoulder, his breath puffing across her skin in warm bursts.

His right arm kept him braced above her while his left arm made its way under her chest, pulling her close as his hand began to grope at her breasts. His fingertips pinched one of her nipples, reveling in the soft moan she let out. "Are you ready for me to move, pretty girl?" He breathed, peppering kisses along the side of her face as he waited for her to relax.

At her nod, Spencer began to move, his thrusts slow but powerful as he repeatedly drove into her. He shifted up onto his knees, pulling her hips back into his languid thrusts as she moaned beneath him. The angle allowed him to brush her G-spot with every stroke, causing her toes to curl with each pang of pleasure that wracked her body. His hands squeezed the flesh of her ass, a low whine bubbling in his throat as he took in the sight of his cock sliding in and out of her.

It was downright erotic, the sight of her arousal coating the wiry curls at the base of him driving him insane. She was so fucking wet for him. The knowledge that he was making her feel this good made his head spin. He couldn't keep it to himself anymore. He needed to show her how deeply this was affecting him, to make her understand the intensity of the way she made him feel.

Everyone knew Spencer liked to run his mouth. It wasn't a surprise that this remained true during sex. What surprised Y/N, however, was how absolutely filthy of a mouth the man had. Spencer, the same Spencer who had barely uttered a curse in all the years she'd known him, was now stringing together words that would make even the most foul-mouthed person blush.

His pace increased with each word he murmured, small "ah, ah, ah's" spilling from her lips as he began to really pound into her.

"Does that feel good? Huh? Finally being taken care of the way you deserve?"

"Fuck— look at you, baby. Taking my cock so well. Do you like that? You like feeling me stretch you open?"

"Such a perfect pussy, sweetheart. So fucking good for me. So tight. My beautiful girl."

Every vulgar word he breathed into the space between them had her mind reeling, her body teetering on the edge of release as her walls fluttered around him. Desperate moans began to spill from her as she took everything he had to offer, her teeth digging into her lower lip to try to stifle the noises in an attempt not to wake everyone on that floor of the hotel. Spencer's gaze was locked on the way her ass rippled with each thrust, a look of pure ecstasy on his face as his brows pinched together and his mouth hung open.

"S-Spence— I'm so close—" Y/N whimpered, burying her face into the pillow beneath her as she moaned helplessly.

He dragged one of his hands away from where it was squeezing her hip, shoving it between her hips and the pillow propping her up as he began to stroke her clit in time with his thrusts. "Let go, sweet girl. Cum around my cock. Show me how good I make you feel."

She cried out at that, thrashing underneath him as the tension coiling in her lower belly finally snapped. Spencer's hips stuttered, a guttural moan wrenching its way from his throat as she squeezed around him, her legs trembling as one of the most powerful orgasms she'd ever experienced washed over her in waves.

"God— fuck, I'm about to cum," Spencer grunted, his eyes squeezing shut briefly as he swallowed hard, his chest heaving with exertion as he fucked her through it. "Where do you want it, pretty girl?"

"Wanna taste you... Spence, please—" Y/N slurred beneath him, weakly pushing up on her elbows to turn and look at him over her shoulder. Her bottom lip was swollen and lightly bruised from how hard she'd been biting at it, and her eyes were watery with unshed tears as the pleasure began to overwhelm her.

The sight of her looking so ruined almost had him spilling inside of her, and with a muffled curse he pulled out of her, fisting his cock as she rolled onto her back and stuck her tongue out patiently. He shuffled up her body, bracing himself with one hand against the headboard as he gazed down at her reverently. The amusement he felt from the brief feeling of deja vu from having her in a similar position earlier that night was short-lived as his head tipped back, a strained whimper filling the air as her tongue brushed against the head of his cock.

It only took a few pumps for him to cum, his eyes rolling back into his head when she sat up to take him further into her mouth as rope after rope of his essence flooded her throat. Y/N sucked gently, working him through his orgasm until his hips were jerking and he was whining, pulling off of his softening cock with a slick 'pop'. He crumpled onto the bed next to her, his heart pounding almost painfully against his ribcage as he struggled to catch his breath.

Spencer wrapped her tightly in his arms, his lips brushing against the top of her head with soft, repeated kisses. Between each tender touch, he murmured how incredible she made him feel, how he couldn’t believe he was lucky enough to share this life with her, let alone love her the way he did. Y/N whispered back, her voice soft but full of conviction, telling him how deeply she cherished him and how every part of her was filled with love for him.

Her fingers idly traced patterns across the flushed skin of his chest until he caught her hand, pressing tender kisses to her knuckles before quietly slipping out of bed. She groaned petulantly as he pulled her to her feet, ushering her towards the bathroom with a pat to her butt and a mumbled but passionate lecture on the timeframe after sex in which she needed to pee to avoid getting a UTI. Even though she knew he was right, she still rolled her eyes as she trudged into the bathroom. She decided to brush her teeth while she was there as well, giggling to herself at the thought of kissing Spencer with the taste of him still in her mouth.

When she stepped out, Spencer had changed the sheets and set a bottle of water on the nightstand, flashing a drowsy grin as she slipped into bed next to him and turned the lamp out. "What's all this about?" she teased, her smile breaking into a yawn.

"I'm taking care of you, just like I said I would."

It didn’t take long for exhaustion to settle in, both of them murmuring good nights between soft kisses. As they drifted off together, Y/N felt certain he would be taking care of her for the rest of his life—and she was just as sure that she would do the same for him.

Continued A/N's: Happy (late) start to December!! I really hope you guys enjoy this :') I plan on doing a little something (maybe, possibly ;) ) for Christmas, so stay tuned for updates on what that little something may be. Also, a loving reminder that my requests are open! :) <3 K

REMINDER: I do NOT give permission for my work to be re-uploaded to any other platforms (c.ai, Tiktok, ao3, etc.) under any circumstances. If you'd like to translate my work, then please ask me before doing so. I know it sounds whiny, but I (as well as many other fanfic writers) spend so much time on these and it's genuinely not okay to take credit for work that isn't yours. It's insulting and completely unnecessary. If I do see my work uploaded anywhere without explicit permission, I WILL say something.

[timmydraker]

Tim who does crochet.

It’s Dick who is given the first gift, long before Tim is Robin and even before he knows who Robin is.

It was simply because he was a kind kid who had been there to witness something horrible and wanted to comfort the poor boy he saw sobbing off two lost loved ones.

Little Tim walked up to Dick with the crochet elephant that was admittedly a little funky looking and held it up to him without making eye contact. He had hidden the small plushie from his parents lest they disapprove of his hobby, just like they did with drawing and skating.

Dick had beamed happily and held onto the toy, saying it was so cute and how Tim should be so happy to have it.

Tim had frowned and shook his head, “It’s for you, Mister Grayson. It’s Tifa.”

Never had Tim seen someone so in awe of his creation as he did in that moment and it made him beam just like Dick had been.

Once Dick took the little elephant into his hands Tim had bolted away.

Bruce was next, being gifted a big fluffy jumper on his first birthday after loosing Jason. It was a soft, light green with too long sleeves that went over his ass. It was big, far too big, and thick enough that it might even be too hot in autumn.

He didn’t wear it for a while, mainly because he ignored the big wrapped present Tim had left in his room out of guilt and shame and even a little frustration.

When he opened it up he put it on and promptly broke down, finding the feeling more similar to a hug than he thought something non-hug could get.

He wore it in front of Tim once to show he appreciated it and then wore it whenever he was injured.

Steph got a few things, mainly tops and one big blanket that he gave her after they reconnected when she came back. It had been his way of saying he forgave her and wanted to be her friend again without using words.

Cass got a big poncho with a hood that was rainbow, bright and loud while still capable of hiding her when she felt she couldn’t be seen.

It took a long time for him to make Jason anything after he came back. When he did, him and Tim avoided each other for over a year until Tim overheard Alfred talking to Bruce about how sad it was to not see his two bright boys getting along.

Alfred had been pouring tea with the pot he made a kettle warmer snug with Lilly of the Vally on it when he said it.

So, Tim had searched through his old photos of Jason’s Robin and made himself recall those old ideals and awe. He made himself remember what Jason also had ripped from him and, while it wouldn’t change or excuse how Jason had brutalised him, it made him understand him more.

He decided that instead of joining to Jason and having a heart to heart, that he should do what all bats did and start off without saying a thing.

He makes Jason a blanket that took him over a month of a floral book cover of Jane Ire.

Tim was relived when it was done and simply left it laid out on Jason’s bed in his latest hideout with a note that said,

“I know little about Jane Ire, maybe you could tell me about it sometime?

~ Tim. D.”

Jason had sent him a text a day later to say he could send him a copy with his annotations if he wanted.

It wasn’t long after Tim had read the book, taking twice as long with all the notes Jason had left in it, that he was then left to make something for Damian.

Naturally, he didn’t want to at first.

Also naturally, he got bored and wanted to make another animal after seeing Tifa again. She was cute, but a little munted with age.

He took one look at Titus and promptly made a plan to create him with crochet. He wanted to give it to Bruce after he was done, but he’s only an asshole when he finds it entertaining.

At heart, he’s a kind boy, so he gives it to Damian.

When he gets an actual, verbal thank you from the new Robin, he makes Alfred the Cat and Ace, then finally Bat-cow and Goliath.

The best thing he’s made, according to Duke, is Signals first ever fan made merch that he wears nearly all the time.

Kate says that wrong because the leg warmers he made for winter patrols have apparently saved her life.

Salina would say it’s actually the cat pawed mittens he made her when he was twelve and never told Bruce about.